#I wanna draw so bad my insides are itchy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

afeb · 4 years

Text

Fred Weasley - Best Gift

Summery: You and Fred confess your feelings for one another on the confines of his bed, which leads to something sweeter...

Warnings: smut, fluff

“Are you sure?” Molly said, her sentence being broken by a yawn.

I giggled a little. “I’m sure, it’s the least I could do for intruding on your Christmas.”

She waved me off. “You’re not intruding at all.” She sighed and gazed around at the messy kitchen. “You’d think with all the children I have one of them would’ve liked cleaning.”

I laughed and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t mind at all.”

She squeezed me tight and pulled away. “Your parents will come around.” She softly reassured, cupping my rosy cheeks. “Besides, you got a jumper out of it.”

I smiled and looked down at my new jumper, the large letter of my first name shining back at me. “I love it, thank you.”

“Goodnight Dear.” She kissed my cheek and soon I was left alone.

I sighed and pulled my hair into a low bun and set to work. I was part way through organising the sides when a deep voice from behind made me jump.

“Need any help?” I turned to see Fred standing tall, jumper matching mine and a pair of stripy pyjama bottoms adorning his body.

I smiled. “I’d love help.”

“You know Mum would’ve done this.” Fred said knowingly as he began scraping old food into the bin.

I ran the sink as I began dumping various things into the sparkling water. “Well she cooked, and let me stay here for Christmas-“

“And made you that god-awful jumper.” Fred teasingly interjected.

“I love it! Does it look bad?” I asked, diving my hands into the hot water.

“Looks lovely.” He winked back, causing a blush to creep up my neck. “Why are you here though? Why aren’t you with your family?”

I stiffened at the sensitive subject. “Well, I usually go home but this year my parents...I suppose they wanted alone time and they said I couldn’t go back...when I told Ginny I was staying at Hogwarts this year she insisted I come here.”

A deep frown had set on his face. “Your parents...they didn’t want you home for Christmas?”

“They’re Muggles, they don’t understand magic.” I shortly said. “They can be...a little hostile at times.”

“Oh...” he mumbled, leaning against the counter and looking at me. “I’m sorry about that.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine, one day they’ll come around.”

“Yeah?”

I sniffed. “I can only hope.” I sadly smiled, draining the sink.

I wet a cloth and began wiping down the sides. “Well Mum loves you, and Dad loves you, so I’m sure you’ll always be welcome here.”

I giggled. “I’m glad, what you have here...it’s really something.”

He gazed around his kitchen and living room. “It is, isn’t it?”

I sighed and looked around, immensely proud of the now spotless kitchen. “Well I’m off to bed.”

“Where are you sleeping?” He asked, turning the lights off in the kitchen.

“Sofa.” I smiled as I made my way into the warm living room.

“Sofa? Why?” Fred followed closely behind me.

I pulled out the blanket and pillow that was stuffed behind the armchair against the wall. “Molly did apologise but the house is full for Christmas, and I was a late comer.”

Fred frowned as he watched me organise the sofa. “But it’s Christmas Day...don’t you want somewhere nice to sleep?”

I giggled. “I don’t have much choice!”

He pouted his lips before crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“What? Fred no-“

“I won’t take no for an answer, it’s a double and there’s plenty of room.” He explained.

“Fred I couldn’t possibly-“

He muscled past me and grabbed the pillow, leaving the old tattered blanket behind. “Nope, come on.”

He was half way up the stairs before I snapped out of my suprise and hurried after him. Awkwardly walking past the bathroom where Ron was exiting he gave us a funny look.

“All innocent.” Fred shortly said before carrying on down the hall.

“Don’t tell Ginny.” I ordered as Ron raised his hands as sulked into his room.

Fred had his own room. It was small, a double bed taking up most of the floor space. He had a cluttered desk in the corner, a small chest of draws and oddly enough a large mirror with all sorts of photos of friends and family pinned to it. I took a moment to look at them. Fairy lights lined the ceiling as small lamps around the room cast a soft orange glow over the humble corner of the world.

“It’s not much...” he mumbled, throwing the pillow onto the bed and facing me. “But it’s home.”

“It’s cute.” I smiled.

He smiled proudly. “Do you er...mind if I sleep without my jumper on? It’s too itchy.”

I blushed. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

I averted my gaze as I looked at the photos once again, turning once I heard the bed creek. Fred had his arms behind his head as he looked on at me, flicking his head and signaling me to hop in.

“Can I...take my bottoms off?” I said nervously. His eyes widened. “No! No as in my pyjama bottoms, not my...no not my underwear.”

He stifled a laugh and nodded. “Whatever makes you comfortable.” He repeated back. “Can you turn off the lights?”

After awkwardly undressing and turning off all the lights, I hurried under the covers, shivering in the cold sheets. I arranged my pillow as Fred looked down at me, a small amused smile gracing his lips as I pulled the covers to my ears and shivered again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah thanks.” I smiled back.

He laughed and settled down, turning onto his side and facing me. “So you’re friends with Ginny then?”

“Yeah, we met last year when I tried out for Quidditch.” I explained.

“You play?”

“No, I’m useless at it.” He laughed. “I just didn’t have many friends and wanted to make some, which worked because I found Ginny and then Hermione.”

He nodded. “I always saw you around school but I never knew you.”

“I knew about you.” I said.

“Really?” He asked. “How?”

“How could I not?” I giggled. “The famous tricksters, Fred and George.”

He laughed. “I suppose we do have a reputation.”

“I actually had a massive crush on you.” I said before my teeth could catch it.

He sat up on his elbow. “What?”

“Pretend you didn’t hear that.” I nervously said, covering my face with my hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You had a crush on me?” He asked again.

I groaned. “Yes! You were my friends older brother, of course I did!”

He laughed again. “But why?”

“I don’t know...you seemed funny, and sweet.” I shortly said. “And you know...”

“What?” He whispered.

“Well you’re handsome, you must know that.” I scoffed.

He cocked a brow. “So you think I’m handsome?” He teased.

“No! I-I didn’t...you...stop talking me into a corner!” I huffed.

He laughed, biting down on his lip and clutching his chest. “Alright alright...” he settled down next to me again. “Wanna know something?”

“Sure.”

“I have a crush on you.” He confessed, looking deeply into my eyes.

“On me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“You’re beautiful and funny, and over this Christmas I’ve got to know you far better. You’re smart and witty, mum loves you...” he listed off.

I blushed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not!” He defended. “I do.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “I like you too.”

Suddenly the air around us grew thick with tension, both very aware that we were in bed together with minimal clothes on. Fred shuffled a little closer to me, legs bumping against my own. I moved closer still, hand resting comfortably on his chest.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. His thumb poked out and gently ran over my lips, eyes flicking down to watch the soft flesh move under him. My breathing grew thick as I watched him, desperate for him to make any kind of move.

He slowly inched forward and bumped his nose against mine, breath fanning over my face as we pressed our bodies together. He kissed the side of my mouth, testing to see if I would pull away. When I stayed close, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

He was cautious to begin with, pressing a series of small, delicate kisses to my mouth. When a small whimper escaped my lips he pressed his lips firmly against mine. His hand fell to squeeze my jaw, my hands balling against his chest. I gasped as he pulled my leg over his waist, slotting between my open thighs.

His tongue traced over my lips before easing in, dancing with mine. He moaned, deep and quiet, and squeezed my jaw tighter. He gently pushed me back and climbed on top of me, positioning my legs either side of his waist as he loomed above me. His lips trailed down my neck and softly nibbled the skin, darkly chuckling at the moan it elisited from me.

“Can I...” he trailed off as his hand teasingly played with the band of my underwear.

My hand cupped his jaw. “Please.” I whimpered out with a pout.

He watched as my mouth fell open as he dipped his fingers inside, quickly finding the bundle of nerves and drawing small, slow circles against the flesh. My hands flexed on his cheeks, digging in a little.

“Like it, babygirl?” He asked, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

“Yes!” I breathed out as he slowly inched a finger in, swirling a little before adding another.

“Merlin, you’re tight.” He moaned as he retracted his fingers and eased them back in.

My breath quickened as he slowly moved in and out of me, his lips kissing my neck once again. My hips began to buck as I felt a tingling feeling crawl up my spine, feeling as though every nerve was busting in pleasure.

“Fred-oh!”

“That’s it.” He cooed softly in my ear. “Let me see.”

He gazed down at me as I came underneath him, my face blushing a deep red as my teeth sank into my lip, a poor attempt to stop the small moans tumbling past my lips. He pulled his fingers from me, offering them to my lips.

I gripped his wrist as sucked his fingers, tasting my sweet self off of him. “Ah ah, leave some for me.” I watched as he sucked on his fingers, moaning deeply. “So sweet, like honey.”

I whimpered at his statement. “Please...”

He nodded curtly as he quickly pulled himself out, stroking slowly as he looked into my eyes.

“Have you...” I shook my head. “Are you sure? I don’t want to...hurt you.”

I softly smiled. “With a boy I like, on Christmas Day, in his warm bed...I don’t think the poets could have written a better way.” I reassured.

He blushed and smiled, dipping down to press a firm kiss to my lips. As I was distracted, he slowly eased the tip into me. I winced, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His lips sponged kisses against my cheek as he slowly eased in, bottoming out. He stopped for a moment.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered as he kissed over my cheeks and nose.

“I-It’s okay.” I winced as he pulled out, ever so slowly pushing back in.

The pace was slow, the moonlight from the window casting a soft glow over his face. I could tell he was trying hard to keep control, his face contorting in pleasure as he deeply moaned and groaned. His hand cupped my jaw as he gazed down at me.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented. “Like a goddess.”

“You look handsome.” I complimented back, gasping as he gave a harder thrust.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologised, resting on his forearms and boxing me in. His lips found to ear. “I’m not gonna last long, babygirl.” He stained.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and stoked his hair. “Please,” I begged. “Please cum inside me.”

“Fucking hell.” He groaned, hips stilling as he spilled ropes of cum into me. “Ah, fuck.”

I giggled as he swore, his head falling to rest against my shoulder. His breath was heavy as his fingers mindlessly fiddled with the hem on my jumper.

“Was it...”

He pulled back and smiled widely down at me. “You were perfect.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “The best, most amazing girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I giggled and smiled brightly up at him. “What does this mean?”

He settled next to me, coaxing my head to rest against his shoulder. “Well...if you want me, you can have me.”

I sat up a little and looked down at him. “Would you have me?”

“Without question.” He smiled back, taking my hand and kissing over my knuckes. “Who’s gonna tell Ginny?”

“Oh gosh.” I groaned as Fred laughed.

“For tomorrow, sleep today.” He soothed, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist and holding my other hand tightly against his chest.

“You’re the best gift I got today.” I tiredly said, my eyes drifting shut.

#Fred #Weasley #fred weasley #fred Weasley smut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #james #phelps #james phelps smut #james phelps angst #james phelps fluff #Harry #potter #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter

110 notes · View notes

loudestcloud · 3 years

Text

After a long brake from this saga, it returns for her birthday! However, I should start this by saying the obvious fact that I don't like they way Nami and women in general are drawn, I really wish the mangaka had a middle ground between the 'If I sneeze I'll snap in half sexy girls' and the 'i will crush you in my fat rolls ugly girls' types but here we are and this is what we've got. As a result, most of my connects would usual be how I wish she her skirts would be longer n such but I'm not gonna do that because I don't want it to get in the way of the actual content in the post. Let's go: NAMI!!

'First appearance': it's not the first at all, idk what to call it tho, it's her 3rd. it's just the one in We are so technically counts. It's probably the nostalgia, but I love this look. I can't place why but I'm not even mad at the weird stripe lengths design, it's just cute to me. The sleeves are short but long enough to hide her tattoo and I adore her skirt too like the dark orange parts remind me of blood oranges!

Baratie, Loguetown, Little Garden, first Arabasta outfit, (& Long Ring Long Land) Post-Arabasta & Post-Enies Lobby: This was probably a common or local brand for her cos she's rocking that skirt in all different colors 👌 Also, I just wanna start by saying, all her t shirts actually go past her hips? So her skirts would actually be longer than they look cos she's actually draw quite strange when in tops. Anyway, shes starting off strong with this nice pink top n I like the nice shade with the white. Then, a dark blue for the first and only time ever for Nami to pick out. I personally think lighter colors are nicer for her tho. Bringing us to this BEAUTIFUL baseball jersey with purple sleves, get it bitch oml! 😘 I don't think that skirt matches very well but it's still cute. Then, she tries stripes and I think it works out well and I think the 3/4 length look is good for her too so that one is nice. The diamond pattern tank top is actually one of my favourite Pre-Skip looks just because it's so well matched with the skirt. You can't see in the picture but the dot inside the circle is the same yellow as her top so it's just very well done, definitely an actual set. And the lace? Amazing. I hate the feel of lace myself but it looks amazing.

Baratie, Drum Island, Post-Arabasta, Long Ring Long Land Whisky Peak, Post-War, Punk Hazard: Now, I don't actually have much to say about these, I just think they are worth mentioning.i like Nami in shirts with text, I always spend way too long trying to read em lol. Anyway, I like the Drum Island shirt & Punk Hazard shorts because ✨ stripes ✨

Water 7 & Enies Lobby: Nami's first dress! And also a new skirt! I like this frilly style more, I wish it stayed around tbh but oh well. Water 7 gives us the iconic blue shirt & tie with matching shoes and it's a blessing really. Then, Enies Lobby gave us the strange Denim outfit that Paulie hated with all his mind 🤣 At the time,I thought it was a cool outfit. It's not bad, the too looks a bit armour so it's go that going for it and that jacket slaps in my opinion. I like long sleeves on cropped jackets.

Thriller Bark: Pink! When I saw the first outfit, I thought something super bad was going to happen because it looked fancy and that anime for 'time to die'. Lucky for her, nothing happened at all apart for her just looking really grown up. I like her hair too, super cute. In the next fit, it's a total flip, quite punk. Her belt is a nice contrast from her skirt and I LOVE her top! Her party outfit looks like an itchy lace and the straps, while I live frills, look very irritating. It looks cute but I could never wear it myself. Lastly for this set is one of my all time favourites for Nami because she gets to wear a necklace! It's very small and hard to see but I think it's amazingly cute. This combination of her hair being down again, a nice pokadot shirt, full length jeans and a big smile from making a friend makes it all the best.

Sabaody Archipelago & Levely: As with the 3rd outfit set, I just think these are neat. She's rockin' a different necklace, shorts and a 90s style flower top then in Levely she's chillin' in a simple puff sleeve shirt with hearts a cross the chest. Simple looks, very effective

Fish-Man Island, Punk Hazard & Dressrosa: Fish-man island comin' in hot with the iconic Timeskip look and belt! This, I much prefer the Crimin bra because it's simple plus her hair is up really cutesy. Also it's funny cos that would have been expensive for she didn't steal all the outfits she did. Looks wise, Punk Hazard is my favourite but I really dislike that it doesn't cover the bottom of her boobs and its not really supportive. I think it's my favourite because it reminds me of Frankys vibes. Dressrosa's is also really cute but once again looks like the frills would tickle a bit. Also I like her shorts.

Zou: A DRESS! not only that but it's Purple, a color she's not worn before more than as sleeves years back. It's an interesting dress style, very lacy and would brake easy but it's VERY nice to look at. Her next looks bring back the ruffley frills and basic shirts. The half button shirt has her 2nd number on it and the colour matches her skirt! I like the purple coming back in her next skirt but what I like way more is her last Zou look. It's a nice halter neck with black lace trim then to make it better, her skirt is a wonderful shade of red that has an adjustable rope belt with little gold buttons on! I just- 🥰

Whole Cake Island & Wano: everyone's lord and fashion savour, WHOLE CAKE!!! I mean look at how cute she is in that first one! That fairytale aesthetic really owns my ass at this point! Then it's a total shift with that more mature sexy style red turtleneck dress no sleeves? The side by side vibes are 😘👌 love em! Plus, this arc gave us more purple AND 2 box neckline dresses which I think with Nami they really work. The forts Wano ouyfit is only here cos blue really works for her. It look okay but I don't think they are as nice as most people do. Idk what it is about it, I think it's just too square. The 2nd is nicer to my eyes, idk

And lastly, I just wanted to Shout out the First eps and the Dead End Adventure outfit cos it looks like Vector from Despicable me:

This post was made listening to 'One Piece vibes' by Kato & rewatching One Piece

Sanji

Luffy

Zoro

#one piece #op art ref #art ref #art reference #op nami #nami op #nami #one piece nami #nami one piece #fashion #op fashion #happy birthday nami

13 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 5 years

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 11)

word count: 6k

angst, fluff

(part 10) (series masterlist)

"okay, now, which one, y/n?" wooyoung whines, holding up a fuzzy yellow sweater and a blue knitted one. you purse your lips to the side as you sit on his bed, examining the expensive fabrics.

"the yellow one."

"ugh but it's kind of itchy," he groans. your eyebrow raises and you desperately hold back a huff of your own because this is how the last hour's been going. shirts and sweaters getting tossed and complaints left and right and perhaps you should've put more thought into your own outfit.

"weren't we supposed to go at 9?" you whine back, looking at your phone that reads 9:52, "you'll look good in anything!"

he squints his eyes at your small smile as you wiggle your feet on his bed. you've been antsy all day and now just waiting around for your impending doom is making it so much worse.

because the second you stepped into the lobby for breakfast this morning, talk of a party being held tonight was the only topic of conversation between the bustling group of teens sprawled out across the couches and bar stools.

three of the boys in your grade had completely rented out one of the local restaurant bars, then promptly proceeded to sneak in all of their own alcohol and send out a mass text to everyone on the trip.

and of course you were hesitant from the start, seeing as what happened the last time you attended a party.

you listened to the boys talk over breakfast, yeosang only looking your way with a tense, barely-there smile. like he hadn't broke down to you and hugged you or delivered that (delicious) food to your door last night.

but then a part of you thinks he probably doesn't want to acknowledge it in a public setting, around all of his friends on top of the fact that you'd be able to cut the tension between him and seonghwa with a knife.

"so we're all in agreement then, we're gonna get shitfaced?" san confirms, clapping his hands together in excitement.

"the fuck, yes!" wooyoung says as if the question itself was absurd.

"i very much plan to," hongjoong concurs, mouth stuffed with a waffle.

"agreed," yeosang mumbles.

just the sound of his voice has the boy next to you tensing, your eyes peaking up to see seonghwa rolling his eyes at his friend and it makes you swallow nervously, not liking the tension or the way you feel like it's your fault. like how all of their little tiffs lately seem to be your fault.

he must feel you looking at him because his head turns to face you, cold eyes softening and the duality of his intense glares will never not shock you. how he could go from burning a hole in someone's face to having you fully mesmerized under his gaze.

his eyes move further down, brows knitting as his stomach sinks because just the mention of this party has you nervous, has your hands folded into one another and fingers fiddling nervously; he feels the familiar feeling of guilt start to creep in his veins at that moment.

"come with me?" he mumbles suddenly, placing his warm hand over the both of yours and rubbing them calmingly before taking one in his grasp.

you nod quietly, feeling the boy's gaze on you before the familiar sound of wooyoung's squeals.

"hands, hands, look at their hands!"

"oh, my gosh, cuuuuute," san whines happily, smacking the side of wooyoung's arm.

"do you two ever stop talking," yeosang growls, ripping his gaze away from your retreating figures moving to the breakfast table.

"are you still hungry?" you ask seonghwa, "i don't know how you guys eat like pigs but still stay so skinny."

a little laugh leaves his mouth as he takes more fruit and another bagel, piling it on silently before putting his plate down.

"are you gonna be okay tonight?" he asks quietly, taking a step closer to you and causing you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "i...we can do something else if you want."

a shy smile makes its way on your face, you heart warming at the gesture and the sincerity in his eyes. because it's so thoughtful and sweet and your heart continually melts when he shows time and time again how considerate he is.

but you don't wanna ruin the fun nor do you want that event to taint any other experience you might and will have. it appears though that even with your positive and strong thoughts, it doesn't translate to your body's natural nervous reaction. doesn't stop your stomach from feeling queasy or your mind start to race with the hazy memories.

you're suddenly very interested in the pictures on the wall behind him, eyes darting to take in the drawings and snapshots of the ski lodge throughout the years. the picturesque town, an overview shot from the ski lift at sunset, snow-covered tree, the-

his warm hand on your jaw moves your face ever so slightly so your eyes immediately fall back on him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips nervously and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it.

"y/n?" he hums, head cocked to the side as he looks at you, his gaze gentle and patient.

"no, i can...we can go, i'll be okay," you stutter out, your head turning to look at the table of excited boys throwing crumbs at each other.

"are you sure?" he asks, noticing where your gaze shifts and letting out a sigh, "they won't mind, you know."

"thank you," you say softly, turning back to him face, "but i promise it's okay, i...i think it'll be fun. we can dance."

a soft smile makes its way on his face and he has to suppress a laugh thinking about the kind of dancing you think is appropriate at a party.

"you're two left feet say otherwise," he quips, letting out a laugh when you smack his chest lightly.

"shut up!"

he bites his lip to stop his grin from widening, licking over the slightly red skin as his eyes glaze over with a seriousness. his hand falls to your waist a few moments later, pulls you a little closer and you look up at him breathlessly.

"what?" you squeak because he can go from playful to serious in the blink of an eye.

"i'll be with you the whole time, you know that, yeah?" his deep voice murmurs lowly and he thinks he's confirming this more for his own benefit than yours.

your cheeks warm as your eyes give him all the answers he needs and and you don't even bother to lower your face to hide your blush. "i told you to stop saying stuff like that," you whine and a laugh bursts out of his mouth when he pulls back to see your pink-tinted face.

"now why i would do that when you look so cute," he hums, his hand back on your jaw and moving your face gently.

you let out a huff, the pout on your face quickly replaced by your parting mouth letting out a tiny gasp when you feel his his warm, wet lips are on your cheek. it was a soft and sudden peck, warm and sweet and so juvenile it shouldn't have your heart pounding; you pull back and you don't even wanna know how wide your eyes look right now

"seonghwa," you whine, your hand covering the cheek he just kissed but a soft smile you have no control over stretching across your face.

another chuckle leaves him, his eyebrow raising teasingly as he covers your hand with his own. "what," he muses lowly, "you didn't say i couldn't do anything." and then with that, he winks, really winks, before taking his plate and leaving you shell shocked.

"okay, you know what, i'm going with the itchy yellow. but i'm just telling you now i'm gonna need you to scratch my back," wooyoung says, ripping you from the memory of this morning; the boy smirks at you when he sees your flustered expression.

"were you just reliving your dreamy kiss?" the boy asks sarcastically, fanning himself with one hand as he adjusts the neck of his shirt.

"ugh, stop," you whine, falling backwards on to the bed while wooyoung's chuckle rings in the background. "i still can't believe he did that," you mumble under your breath but apparently loud enough for a certain (self-proclaimed) nosy loudmouth to hear.

"you can't? he's literally obsessed with you," wooyoung says, walking over to his dresser where he has vodka and shot glasses lined up, "i don't know if i've ever seen him act like this," he says absentmindedly, such casual words sending you into a frenzy.

"what are you doing?" you ask warily when you pick your head up, trying to ignore the excited warmness spreading in your chest.

"these are for us, baby girl, c'mon," he says, calling you over with two fingers before throwing one back. he hisses before shaking his head and letting out a loud, dramatic "wooo!" that you thought for sure was only something frat boys did in movies.

"i don't think that's a good-"

he's over to you in seconds, both hands holding the neon glasses and you swallow nervously looking at them.

"both of them?" you squeak and he only nods, a smile that's much too large on his face. you both have a stare down, your eyes pleading but his relentless and you take them with a sigh.

"this is peer pressure, you know," you grumble as you take a whiff before scrunching your nose and gagging.

"oh, stop your shit," he yells from the dresser, pouring two more for him before walking back over. he clinks his glass with yours before counting down.

you take one shot on the count of three and promptly gag, nearly spitting it all up as you desperately look around for any other beverage. but he only shakes his head, holding a bottle of orange juice tauntingly.

"one more, y/n, come on," he urges and you suppress another gag as you take down the shot with a sneer. he hands you the bottle of juice with a little pat on the head and you squint your eyes at him as you gulp down the much better tasting liquid.

"that was so bad," you whine causing wooyoung to laugh and roll his eyes. "we're ready to go now!"

"okay, that actually wasn't toooo bad," you say only two short hours, leaning on san who just gave you your 4th shot of the night, "it tastes like peach."

"didn't i tell you," he says victoriously, grabbing on to your arm as you both stumble back to your friend group.

the restaurant is spacious and lit with fake candles, probably far too fancy an establishment to be littered with rowdy drunk teens grinding and drinking and screaming over the loud music playing from the dj speakers.

"oh no, here they are," yeosang says with a smile and you noticed he's much happier when he's drunk.

"here we areee!" you say as saunter up to him and stumble between his legs. "you," your finger coming out to bop him on the nose, "are a whole lot happier with a few in you. you should drink more often."

"you think?" he hums, tongue darting out to lick the top row of his teeth and your hazy eyes watch the slow stroke.

"i do," you squeak out before looking at seonghwa across the table who's gaze is boring into your body, or more so how close it is to yeosang. you furrow your eyebrows at him before moving to the other side of the bench, squeezing in next to him and he smiles at you.

"how many shots you have?" he asks lowly and you splay four fingers across your lips as a lousy attempt at 'sh.'

"and what about you?" you whine, looking up at him with wide eyes, "why aren't you drinking."

"i am," he says, holding up his beer bottle and shaking it. you furrow your eyebrows before leaning tiredly on his shoulder, hazy eyes moving to yeosang whose eyes are boring into seonghwa.

sober you would never so boldly call out the obvious tension and sneers between the two boys. but put a few shots in you and:

"stop looking at him like that," you whine before moving your head up to see seonghwa is doing the same. "and you too! you guys are-are best friends!"

"he's a dick," they both say in unison and you can't help but giggle.

"but you're each other's dicks."

"no, y/n, we are definitely not," seonghwa grumbles just as yeosang starts to fake gag. the both of them look at each other in disgust and you let out a sigh before shouting for wooyoung at the dj booth; he quickly turns and runs over, extending his hand.

"are you finally gonna dance with me!" he says excitedly and you nod your head, scrambling off the booth and taking the boy's sweaty hand in yours.

"be each other's dicks aga-again! you better have made out-wait no aha," you giggle to yourself, fuzzy brain searching for the word, "made UP, when i'm back!"

you attempt to pull wooyoung away when seonghwa quickly catches him by the arm. you let out an impatient huff as you watch him whisper something into wooyoung's ear. the boy face dims for the slightest of seconds before he nods enthusiastically and tightens his grip on your hand.

"i will not fail you this time sir," he says and the boy can only squint his eyes at the boy's playfulness causing wooyoung to grimace. "alright, let's gooo, y/n," he says, holding your combined hands up and running towards san and hongjoong on the dance floor.

"she can take care of herself," yeosang says after a few moments of silence and seonghwa's head snaps to him, his eyes squinting at the boy.

"what?"

"you told wooyoung to take care of her and to not leave her," he says, "but she can take care of herself."

seonghwa turns his head to the side challengingly, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw starts to tighten.

"you couldn't have forgotten what happened the last time we were all at-"

"obviously not, i was the one who had to walk in on it," the boy snaps, "but this time's different."

seonghwa's leg starts bouncing nervously, his guilt and irritation from that night swarming back into him before yeosang daringly speaks again.

"it's just all the time, seonghwa," yeosang then bites, "you're always worried and on edge and ready to like ..kill for her or some crazy shit. like last night, what the fuck was that."

seonghwa lets out a huff, breaking eye contact for a second to take a swig before looking back.

"you pay for her, tell me you're not gonna fuck with her, and then go and do the shit you did. what the fuck was that."

"i told you i already explained myself to her and apologized," yeosang snaps, "so you have to stop attacking me any time she's involved."

seonghwa's jaw twitches again and yeosang rolls his eyes at his friend's obvious anger, his drunken, hazy brain so over this confrontation and tension. "now can you stop clenching your jaw, you're gonna need new implants."

his eyes roll, head turned to the side as his tongue peaks out angrily and yeosang can't help the smirk on his face. "fuck you, i still don't know how that rumor got started."

"yeah, me either," yeosang hums, "because it definitely wasn't me."

seonghwa's head snaps to his friend, eyes roaming his face because if a rumor of that caliber was started by this little shit, he's gonna have to smash this beer bottle over his head.

"tell me you're joking."

his head turns to the side challengingly, tone sharp and teasing, "quit biting my head off anytime i breathe around y/n and i'll confirm or deny if i confessed my conspiracy in a drunken stupor."

now seonghwa can't help but burst out laughing, shaking his head before throwing the cap from his beer at his friend. "you're a fucking asshole."

and just like that, the tension was gone, the two of them laughing and turning to watch their friends sloppily dance and jump around. watch with bright smiles and soaring hearts as san and wooyoung spin and twirl you dramatically, your happy squeals filling the air.

but even in his drunken daze, yeosang is his ever observant self. watching you pull your neck back slightly, hand flying to your stomach before your mouth opens oh so subtly to take in a deep breath.

"oh, no, no, no, no," he mumbles, seonghwa turning his head to the side at his friend's mantra. and before he can ask, yeosang jumps up and runs to grab you by the arm.

"hold it," he grumbles in your ear before pushing you out the closest door to outside. his eyes frantically search before they land on a garbage, leading you to it just as a gag begins to leave your mouth. you grip the cold, snowy rim of the can just as you start to puke up the bile in your stomach.

you faintly feel a hand holding back your hair, the other rubbing your back as you choke out your sudden onslaught of puke.

"you shouldn't have been spinning around," he chastises softly causing you to whip your head back at him.

"i'll puke on the rest out on your shoes," you snap before turning around and lurching forward when the last bit spews out your mouth.

"right, okay," he hums, faintly aware of the sound of the door opening and feet scuffling toward you both.

"is she good," seonghwa mumbles and you close your eyes because how embarrassing that they're both here during this.

"oh, yeah, ju-just great with my head in the trash," you snap and both of them snort despite themselves, loving how you're extra snippy even with your drunken slurs and less than stellar position in the public garbage. they watch as you take a few deep breaths before finally wiping your mouth with your arm. yeosang releases your hair, taking a step back as you turn around and look at them with a bashful (humiliated) smile.

"that....was gross," you whine and the both of them bite their lips to hide their smiles. but it doesn't stop yeosang from making a snide comment complaining about how loud your gags were.

"can you shut-shut up," you hiccup, "i should've ruined your fancy little rich boy shoes." you kick the snow under your feet at him before seonghwa cautiously comes to your side. he wraps his jacket around your shoulders gently causing you to let out a content hum because you hadn't realize how cold you were.

"mm nice, thank you," you slur and you hope your act of inhaling his scent in subtle. "are we gonna go back and dance now?"

"i think you're done, little one," seonghwa says, a chuckle threatening to bubble out of his throat, "how 'bout we go back to your room?"

your head snaps up to him and yeosang raises his eyebrow, stepping forward ever so slightly and seonghwa's cheeks redden.

"not like that!" he says immediately, "i just...you should rest."

"he's right," yeosang agrees, his body suddenly relaxed, "and you need a toothbrush."

you narrow your eyes at the boy, reaching forward to shove him lightly and he stumbles back with a laugh. "go on home, little one," he mocks, teasing eyes moving to seonghwa who flips him off.

"you're little," you stupidly say and seonghwa wraps his arm around your waist to pull you away from him.

"you're both little," he says despite yeosang's glare, "c'mon, let's start walking, okay?"

you turn in his hold, looking up at him and poking him in his chest. "you use that-that soft voice thinking it's gon-na make me do anything for you and wh-hile you're absolute correct-"

your own hiccup cuts you off again along with the door busting open, san running up to seonghwa and it's obvious something is very wrong.

"you need to get in there, now," san says, grabbing seonghwa's arm and pulling him toward the door. but the taller boy pulls his arm back, "i'm bringing y/n back."

"have yeosang do it, you need to control hongjoong. he's-he's trying to fight that guy again."

"oh, god, not apple boy," yeosang grumbles and your head snaps to san who's turning to him in a fit of outrage. "oh yes, apple boy!"

you hear seonghwa groan above you, promptly causing your neck to snap up to him. "not this shit again."

"yes, this shit again," san whines, "c'mon! he only listens to you."

seonghwa's eyes are immediately on you and if you were sober, you'd see the conflict swarming in his eyes. warm and soft and really not wanting to leave you but also darting back towards the restaurant because he can't let hongjoong get his ass beat.

"i'll go with her," yeosang says, "i'd probably be leaving soon anyway."

seonghwa's eyes meet his for a second and yeosang sees the fleeting moment of envy in his eyes he almost thinks he made it up. because then he gives him the subtlest of nods and yeosang watches as he mumbles something in your ear. you look back at him with squinted, apprehensive eyes before turning back around to seonghwa and nodding.

"drink some water when you get back, okay?" he mumbles, lips grazing your ear and you wanna sigh at the feeling of his hot breath on you. but instead you nod up at him with a small smile and shoot him a thumbs up.

"be careful, don't get your pretty face messed up," you say, reaching up to tap his cheek twice.

"i could say the same to-"

"oh my god, i'm usually all for this, honestly, but you're gonna see her in a few hours." san whines, impatient and anxious at the prospect of hongjoong bleeding out on the floor, "let's fucking go!"

and with that, san is dragging seonghwa away and yeosang makes a show of gesturing to the sidewalk in front of you.

"i'd say ladies first but ladies don't puke in public."

"you're a mean boy," you grumble, stumbling past him and wrapping yourself further into seonghwa's coat.

"oh really," he says as he walks directly next to you, "because if it wasn't for me, you'd have puke in your hair. actually, you'd have puke in your hair after vomiting in front of everyone."

you let out a little huff because okay, correct. "wow, my hero," you sarcastically spit before whining, "i just wanted to dance." you stagger through the snowy piles on the ground, bumping into him several times before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, bringing you into him to keep you steady.

"do yo-you like to dance?" you ask him suddenly, leaning your head on his arm.

he's silent for a few moments, only surrounded by the sound of muffled music and your feet scuffling in the snow.

"no," he says and you look up at him dejectedly.

"what! how do you not like to dance," you grumble, "everyone likes to dance."

"not me," he insists, "i just like to sit around and bully people."

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you press yourself back into his arm, "okay, no-now that i can attest too."

the arm not connected to his body brushes against a snowy bush and you look at the cold, white wetness with furrowed eyebrows before an idea crosses your mind.

"hey," you say and he hums, glancing down at you when he feels you shrug off his arm. he watches with his arms out, ready to catch you if you fall as you stumble a few feet away from him and start touching the shrubs.

"what are you-"

"what about snowball fights? do you like snowball fights?"

his eyebrow raises and before he knows what happens, a giant ball of snow hits him dead in the face. a surprised gasp leaves his mouth as your laugh rings through the cold air, fog leaving your mouth and your hands already freezing off.

but the look on his face is so worth it, especially when he pushes off the snow to reveal his mouth open and eyes blazing.

"you didn't just do that."

"oh, but i did," you giggle out teasingly, "that's for you talking about my shitty aim in the-"

he's bending down and gathering a pile of snow in his hands before you can finish your sentence, promptly throwing it and now hitting you square in the face.

your squeal echoes throughout the town and you shake the snow off to see him standing there with a smirk on his face, two more snowballs already in his hands.

"you're gonna wanna think hard about your next-"

you reach behind and shove the snow off the bush, hitting his legs and waist before clumsily running away. you're wobbly and completely off balance but he doesn't think it'll be too devastating if you fall, cushioned by the fluffy snow and harsh reminder that karma is very much a thing.

he hits your back with one smack of coldness and you yelp, running further as you try to make a snowball on your escape. but you fail miserably, nearly tumbling down and luckily catching yourself last minute.

"stop!"

"you started this!" his deep voice echoes, no hint of mercy in his tone as he pelts the next snowball into your shoulder blades.

you giggle before turning around, holding out your hands defensively and he stops short to not smack right into you. "okay, i'm-i'm sorry," you say, even more breathless and dizzy from running on top of your dazed head.

"i don't think you are," he says lowly, inching toward you, "i think you're only sorry i did something back."

"that," you say, placing your finger on his chest and tracing figure eights, "is very corr-ect. you must be a smart tutor or something."

he bites his lip to hide his smile, his eyes rolling to the side in mock annoyance, so he doesn't see your hand making its way to his face. until be does, your finger on his lip, dragging down it slowly so it isn't trapped by his teeth before you sooth over the abused spot gently.

the fog of your cold rapid breaths from running and maybe something else, nerves you'll say, mingle together as he watches you trace his mouth slowly.

you pull your finger back before meeting his gaze and it's a moment filled with a sudden buzzing thats making you both unable to pull your eyes away, only slightly aware of your hand still on his chest.

but in the long run, you'd grateful for it. because it's able to create some distance between you in a moment where there'd hardly be any.

your glossy eyes roam his face, smiling softly at his red cheeks from the cold and his usual cold gaze no where in sight. instead, his eyes are warm and a light brown and looking at you with such wonder and intensity it's making you feel queasy again.

you really really hope it's that, at least, because you'd die if you puked again. especially after you drunkenly mumble, "are you gonna kiss my cheek, too."

that snaps him out of the moment almost instantly, eyes widening and heart beginning to pound ever so slightly and he knows he shouldn't even respond. should just roll his eyes and walk you to your room and never think about you saying that again.

because he saw seonghwa do that this morning, saw the warm way you both looked at each other and how light and happy his best friend's eyes were. he can't even remember a time he saw seonghwa as happy as he is around you sometimes.

but even with that, he doesn't. and he can't. and he's gonna blame it on all the beers he had tonight and admit to his hungover self tomorrow that he's a shitty person and friend.

"wasn't planning on it," he quips lowly, "why, do you want me to also?"

your head cocks to the side and your eyebrow raises, hearing the teasing tone in his voice and poking the inside of your cheek.

"i don't know. i really do-don't like you sometimes."

"agreed."

a little laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head. "but then sometimes i..."

"you....?" he says after a few moments of silence.

you let out a sigh, shaking your fuzzy head and moving away from him.

"nothing," you mumble as you walk past him; but he surprises you and himself when he grabs your arm gently. and then he really surprises himself when he asks the next question. he doesn't even know what possessed him too, just falls from his lips and the second he says it, he silently prays that you don't remember anything tomorrow.

"if you had to kiss someone," he says lowly in your ear, "would it be me or seonghwa?"

you swallow nervously, finally turning around to look at him and it scares you that there's no longer a hint of teasing anywhere. not in his face or his tone and you wish you could puke again to rid the twisting in your stomach.

"i...i don't know," you say weakly, looking at him with anxious eyes, "why are you asking me that."

"i think you know why," he says darkly and you shakily inhale before pulling your arm out of his hold.

"i-i don't know anything," you say, the hiccup in your sentence reminding him of both your current states and he want to smack himself for doing this right now. but he couldn't help it, not with the intensity of whatever stare down happened before.

"so you're finally admitting it," he says and you calm when the teasing is back in his voice. it's a little forced but it's back and it calms your dazed, racing mind. "let's get you to bed now, huh?"

and with that, you two walk silently the rest of the way back. your arms graze every few moments, his hand reaching out to grip your wrist when you stumble up the stairs of the lodge and stagger over to the elevator. you lean your head tiredly on his arm the whole way up, nodding off until the ding brings you back to your senses.

you both walk down to your rooms, snaking the key out of the tight pocket of your jeans and tapping yeosang on the arm quickly. "watch," you stutter, bringing your hand up to the door and moving the key slowly through the slot; his heart staggers when your smile lights up after it turns green.

"see!" you say, hand on the knob as you twist it open, "like a pro."

"you're good," yeosang hums, turning to the side to lean his head against the wall. "opened the door and remembered your key," he quips, tapping you on top of the head and causing you to scrunch your nose at him.

"thank you for walking me," you say softly, just overwhelmingly confused by drowsiness, "and for holding my-my hair back."

a small chuckle leaves his mouth, shaking his head as he watches your eyes barely being able to stay open. "you're welcome, you mess," he says, "go to bed now."

"you go to bed now," you mock before turning around to enter your room, your quiet voice murmuring goodnight before you door shuts and he lets out a exhale.

"goodnight, y/n," he mumbles to himself, looking over your door before retreating into his own room and promptly passing out five minutes later.

until the sound of shrieks next door have him shooting up in his bed, looking around in confusion before registering the loud cries are coming from your room. he quickly throws on a shirt before pulling his doorstopper out and then banging on your door.

"y/n," he says, quiet but firm and he listens quietly for any sign of a response that isn't your tortured yells. but there's nothing so he waits a few moments, no longer hearing anything now and the quietness is even more eerie than your screaming.

"y/n," he says, a tad louder.

but still nothing.

his mind races for what to do, maybe getting an extra key from the lobby or calling your phone, until he realizes he doesn't have your number. so he tries one more time, with a sharp bang and a firm call of your name.

he presses his ear up against the door and settles ever so slightly when he hears the scuffling of footsteps and what sounds like a small whimper, the door suddenly fumbling until your tear-stained face pops out; his heart promptly drops in his chest.

"y/n?" he asks cautiously, eyes roaming what he can see of the room behind you. "are you okay?"

he knows more than anyone how much worse those words make anything and yet he asked them like an idiot and now your sobs are back and he's cursing himself out internally.

"shit, i'm sorry," he says, attempting to step forward and his face dropping when you lean back ever so slightly. "what happened?" he asks softly, the softest he's ever heard his own voice as he steps back to give you space.

because the grip on your door is making your veins bulge, your breathing is scarily erratic and your eyes are shooting back and forth so fast he thinks they're about to fall out of your head. he sees you trying to form a sentence, your shaky breaths and mouth opening and closing a clear indication.

"seonghwa," he hears you mumble a few seconds later and his ear leans in closer to make sure he heard you right.

"what?"

"seonghwa. i-" a strangled breath leaves your mouth and you feel more tears burning behind your eyes. "i need him."

he swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head but not missing the way your legs are starting to wobble. it's a risk and he knows it but he moves in closer, very cautiously, and he calms when you don't move away from him.

"i'll get him, okay," he says quietly, like he's talking to an injured, abused animal, "but you're shaking really bad so why don't you go sit down okay?"

you crane your neck back to look at the bed and its what causes a fresh set of tears because you can feel that cold, hard bed underneath you and you turn back to tell yeosang you can't. but then his soft voice pierces the air again.

"i'll come in with you and call seonghwa, okay? i just...you need to sit."

you nod after a few more uncontrollable, shaky breaths leave your mouth and you nod your head hesitantly. yeosang opens the latch of your doorstopper as he follows you in, grabbing the phone in his pocket as he sees you sit stiffly on your bed.

seonghwa answers after four rings, his deep, gruff voice full of sleep.

"this better be good."

"come to y/n's room."

and just like that, just from the mention of your name, he's calm and alert.

"what happened?"

"she needs you-" he barely gets the last syllable out before the call ends.

"he's coming," he tells you and you nod your head, eyes brimming with tears and you just wanna breathe. just want seonghwa hear to talk to you and hold you and-

less than 15 seconds later does your door burst open, seonghwa's eyes wide and alert as he looks around your room frantically before they land on you. yeosang watches as his face pales and he rushes over, the sound of your small cries back and filling in the room.

"hey, hey," seonghwa says softly, bending down to put his hands on your knees. "what happened, what's wrong?"

his eyes are strictly on your face, the soft concern and adoration blind to you but extremely evident to the other person in the room.

"dream," you blurt out before shaking your head, "ni-ightmare of...i saw him and re-remembered," your voice cracks and you swallow because you feel like you're choking, "and now i can't-"

your sob breaks off your words and seonghwa quickly stands to sits next to you on the bed. your body immediately falls into his as he wraps his arm around your shoulder tightly, rubbing your exposed skin up and down slowly. yeosang watches quietly as his friend's pained expression meets his, biting his lip and quietly mouthing thank you to the boy.

he nods once, unable to take his eyes away and he doesn't know why he can't stop looking. is it because he's enthralled by the way seonghwa was so quick to comfort and soothe you? how quickly you melted into him? or because some strange part of him is hurting that you didn't-

"don't leave," you whimper and yeosang's head snaps to you to see your face buried into seonghwa, "please stay with me."

"i'm not going anywhere," he mumbles, his lips against your head before placing a kiss on your hair.

and that's about all yeosang can stand because it's getting far too intimate in here for him to be sitting here staring at you both. the boy turns to leave before catching seonghwa's gaze again, mouthing 'good luck' before making his way to the door.

he hears more cries and whimpers leave your mouth followed by seonghwa's coos and whispered mantra of "baby, i'm here"and he shuts the door with the most bizarre pit in his stomach.

but he's gonna say it's because he's still drunk, still impaired by the alcohol or maybe just envious and lonely; but it's definitely not because the mean, biting voice in his head is laughing at him for thinking he ever had a shot when he asked "would it be me or seonghwa?"

(part 12)

#seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fic #seonghwa fic

398 notes · View notes

ultraglittercat · 4 years

Text

Drabble 47

Chicken Pox

Little Varian had been quiet and sleepy the day before, going to bed without any prompting from Quirin. This was unusual enough that Quirin was worried, for Varian was a curious and active 4 yr old. He tiptoed into his son's room, preparing to wake him up.

Varian rolled over and whimpered in his sleep. Quirin put a hand on Varian's forehead and noticed he was very warm, definitely running a fever. And his face was blotched in red. That meant one thing: chicken pox. Quirin wasn't too surprised, there had been several cases in town this past week. He'd heard from his friends that Tom, Michael, and Katie had all been sick. Quirin gently nudged his son awake.

“I don't wanna...” Varian mumbled.

“Varian, it's your father. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I need you to get up and have some water.” Quirin said.

Varian yawned. “Daddy? Ow. Everything's itchy.” Varian whimpered.

“That's the chicken pox. The rash will go away in about a week.” Quirin told him.

Varian's face fell. “A week? That's so long!” he complained.

“It won't be so bad. I'll be here, taking care of you. But you'll have to stay inside until you're better. Chicken pox is very contagious. Plenty of other children in Old Corona are sick right now.” Quirin replied.

Varian felt bad for the other children sick in bed, and he wished he wasn't stuck in the same situation. But he knew his dad wouldn't budge: when you were sick, you had to stay in bed, that was the house rule. But usually that meant 2 or 3 days, not a whole week!

Varian pulled the covers over his head, feeling grumpy and out of sorts.

“Wait here, and I'll bring you some water and calomine lotion.” Quirin said.

Varian whimpered again, but he lowered the covers slightly, not wanting to disobey his dad. Quirin came back with a cool glass of water. Varian gulped it greedily, but it didn't cool him down as much as he'd hoped.

“Take off your shirt, and we'll get this lotion on your arms and chest.” Quirin instructed.

“Daddy, I don't like chicken pox.” Varian murmured as Quirin rubbed the lotion on.

“I'm not a fan of it, either. I remember when I was your age and had the chicken pox. I spent a lot of time in bed, playing cards with my parents.” Quirin recalled.

“Did you use to win at cribbage?” Varian asked.

“Not as often as you do.” Quirin laughed. Varian smiled. He was very good at cards, and any game that involved taking turns and coming up with a strategy.

“We can play all the games you want, Varian. Backgammon, cribbage, chess. And we can read as much as you like. You'll have to stay here, but I can go to the library for you and get even more books. And you can draw, or do a puzzle, or play with your toys.” Quirin suggested.

Varian squeezed his toy raccoon tightly. “This is my favorite toy.” he said.

“I know. The week will pass sooner than you think, because we'll be together.” Quirin said.

Varian was relieved. A week was a very long time, but at least it wasn't a week with daddy! Varian could hardly imagine being away from Quirin for a whole week. It would be the saddest week ever.

“And I'll make you some hot broth and some tea with honey when you get hungry.” Quirin offered.

“My throat hurts, I don't wanna eat.” Varian admitted.

“Well you do have to eat something later, but it doesn't have to be right now.” Quirin allowed.

“Okay, Daddy.” Varian agreed. “...Can we start by reading something?”

“Of course.” Quirin replied. He picked up a book and began reading until Varian fell back asleep, then he ruffled his son's hair and straightened his blankets before leaving the room.

The End

This was a request for Megan Guess at ff.net I never say no to some Quirin/Varian fluff. They are one of the best father/son duos Disney has ever made.

#tangled the series #tts #tts quirin #tangled quirin #quirin #tts varian #tangled varian #varian #fanfiction #fanfic #my fiction #fluff

31 notes · View notes

dcnatural · 4 years

Text

Filled To The Brim

Word Count: 1770

Pairing: Joker x Harley Quinn

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: Joker brings Harley a gift.

The metal table was cold enough to make Harley shiver. Her body bended over the edge, ass sticking up to the air, chest flat against the surface and head held in place by firm grip on her hair. Her long painted nails scratched the metal, looking for something to hold onto, but the tabletop was far too smooth and so every time the Joker thrusted into her, her body slid forward, and was pulled back as he retreated, only to thrust seconds later with as much strength as the time before. The friction of her skin against the metal was making her breasts itchy, and she was pretty sure she would have rashes when this was over. Not that she would complain about it; she never complained about her pudding.

Behind her, the Joker grunted, his cock twitching inside her tight ass. Letting go of her pale blond locks, he placed both hands on Harley’s hips, nails digging into her creamy white skin, and began to rock into her even faster, jamming into her balls deep.

“Puddin’!”, she shrieked, surprised at the sudden change of pace.

“Hush, Harley. Can’t see I’m too busy to talk right now?”

She bit her lip, suppressing a cry. “But -- but you are going to fast!”

As fast as a lighting, a fist hit the table just near her head with a loud thud. “Shut up!”

She nodded, teeth cutting through the fragile skin of her lips hard enough to draw blood. She told herself to enjoy it, that his happiness was her happiness. It’s just his way of showing he loves and wants me. She smiled slightly at her thought, yes, the Joker loved her. And she loved him, loved him enough to do anything. And with that in mind, her moans soon joined his, echoing through the walls of the abandoned warehouse. A wide grin formed on his face, those were the sounds he wanted her to make. Not her annoying whimpers or cries, but those sweets little moans filled with pleasure.

And then, with a final thrust, it was over: his thick cum shooting into her, flooding her ass. Without pulling out, he collapsed on top of her, panting as his breath returned to normal, his heavy frame weighing her down. His sweaty hands slid between her body and the table, cupping her boobs as he placed kisses on her neck.

“Oh, Harley, I have a surprise for you.”

Her eyes went wide in excitement. “I looove surprises!”, she said cheerfully, and would have clapped her hands, had she been able to do so.

His long fingers twisted her nipples, causing her to giggle. “I know you do”, he whispered seductively, mouth moving to lick the patch of skin underneath her ear. “And I’m sure you will fucking love this one. But for it to work, I’ll need to you to stay very still. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mistah J. Anything for you.”

“Good girl”, he purred before standing up and removing his softening cock from inside her. She heard his footsteps, as he crossed the warehouse back to where they had laid their backpacks and weapons. He searched for something, throwing out everything that was in his way, scattering guns and tricks all over the floor.

“Here it is”, he announced, jogging back to where his lover was, carrying with him a small black box.

Even though Harley had been holding up her ass, as soon as he had pulled out, the creamy white cum started oozing out of her hole. “Tsk tsk”, he reprimanded, running a slender finger along the pearly trail that it left behind, collecting the viscous substance and putting it back into her asshole.

He walked around the table and place the box right in front of her. “Wanna make a guess on what’s inside?”

She nodded happily. “Umm.. is it a jewel? You know I have been dying for a new necklace!”

“Well,”, he pondered, “you could call it a jewel if you wanted to. But it’s not for your pretty neck”, he laughed in his classic manic way, “No, no, for that we will have to find something another day. Maybe pearls?”

“Oh, I would love a pearly necklace. But what’s in the box then?”

His eyes sparked with a glint of mishchiviouness as he opened the lid, revealing a silvery object. It had a thin tip and it widden towards the middle, followed by a notch and a large flared base shaped like a heart and decorated with a huge red crystal. A butt plug, she immediately recognized. “So, do you like it?”

Harley’s jaw opened, but no words came out. “It’s huge!”, she exclaimed, but as soon as she noticed that a small frown was forming on the Joker’s face, she shook her head and smiled. “I mean, it’s perfect!”

He clapped. “Great, great, great. Now you can keep me inside you all the times.”

“You mean…?”

“Oh, silly girl, this plug isn’t only decorative. I bought it so you could have my cum in your ass, just how I know you like”, he paused for a heartbeat, pretending to ponder about the subject, then he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you like it, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I love it, Mistah J. I love everything you give me”, the sugary words fell out of her mouth automatically, she didn’t even need to think about it, pleasing him had become a second nature for her.

“HA! Just like I thought!”, he exclaimed, picking up the plug from its box, jumping through the table and positioning himself behind Harley. “Try not to move, darling”, he warned and then, without further notice, he began to insert the new toy inside her ass. She clenched at the coldness of the plug, and he had to coax her into relaxing to be able to push the rest of the device into her. Finally, the plug was fully inside her. “You may rise, dear.”

She shifted as she got up, still adjusting to the new feeling. “It feels funny”, she said giggling. He smiled softly and pulled her close, holding her against his unclothed chest.

“I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

She inhaled deeply, taking in the strong smell of his perfume and melted into his embrace. She loved when he held her in his arms, and always felt safe and protected. Nothing bad could happen as long as she was with her puddin’. He leaned down, kissing her roughly, an act the she replied eagerly, parting her lips for him. When he pulled away, her lips were swollen and reddish, but she could have gone like that forever.

“I love you, darling. You know that, don’t you?”, he asked, still so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her face.

“I know, puddin’. I love you too. I love you more than anything in this world.”

He tucked a loose hair lock back behind her ear. “Then will you bring something for me?”

“Oh, puddin’, of course! Just name it and I’ll make sure you get it.”

He grinned and let go of her. “ Per- fect”, he cheered. From the place where they had carelessly thrown it before, he picked her red and black jumpsuit and handed it to her. “Get dressed and go to the store, I have a insane need for some grape juice.”

She cocked her head. “But what about the plug?”

He dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. “Don’t you worry about that, no one will notice. Now, get moving, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Sure thang, Mistah J”, she said with a coy smile as she began to put on the suit. When she was dressed, she turned her upper body to check whether the plug was showing. “Puddin’, I dunno, but the suit is very thigh and the lump seems quite noticeable...” But he hadn’t stuck around to hear her worries, having already headed towards the bags and picked up his phone. She sighed knowing that he was far too immersed in the comedy show he was watching, she couldn’t distract him with her problems.

No one will care, she told herself as she left their hiding spot and walked to the closest convenience store. Just walking proved to be a difficult task, as with each movement she made, she could constantly feel the plug inside her. Not only that, but she could also feel the cum, which had now gone cold. When the store entered her line of sight, she unholstered her pop gun. The parking lot was empty, and through the windows, Harley could see that the cashier was the only employee working at the moment. Good for me! , she thought, running towards the door, prepared to kick it open.

A dry cry escaped her throat as she lost her balance and fell to her butt, making the plug seemingly reach even further. “Damned automatic doors!”, she shouted as she got up, groaning with the discomfort that the plug caused.

Behind the counter, the scared clerk had retreated to the wall, pressing so hard against it as if he thought that he could perhaps pass through it and hide.

“You!”, Harley pointed the gun at the employee. “Tell me where is the grape juice!”

He shook with fear, the words stumbling on top of each other. “In-- in the frid-- fridge. The back-kk. Plea--se don’t-tt hurt me-e.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole!”, she yelled, her back already turned to him. She couldn’t care less about him, the only thing in her mind was the juice. Her eyes scanned the shelves, looking for the right bottle. “AHA! Here it is!”

Making a precarious pile with the bottles, she carried it to the counter. “See, I’ll be needing a car. Do you have the keys to that junk parked outside?”

With trembling hands, the cashier reached into his pockets and pulled out the car keys, dropping them into Harley’s waiting hand. She smiled cheekly. “Thanks, you are honey! And could you pack those?”, she gestured to the bottles and the clerk quickly placed then in a large plastic bag. She took it and off she went, juice in one hand, keys on the other.

Driving back to the warehouse was easier than walking. Despite the loud noise the car made, and of the smoke coming out of its back.

“I’m back!”, she announced happily as she pushed open the door.

The Joker barely raised his eyes from his phone. “Good, I was getting thirsty.”

#joker #harley quinn #joker/harley #jarley #one shot #smut #joker x harley quinn #dc

16 notes · View notes

writinginstardust · 5 years

Text

Snowed In

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox-Montchristen-Windsor

Prompt: we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

Warnings: mild sexual content, swearing

A/N: Thanks to @moderngenius94 for requesting this prompt! (sorry, i still don’t know why tumblr won’t let me tag you) Not-famous university AU for you all which does exactly what the prompt says so enjoy!

Word Count: 2124

Alex’s thoughts were currently consumed by soft blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, plump pink lips, and a swoon-worthy British accent he didn’t know existed until tonight. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but too much alcohol, a sexually charged party atmosphere, and months of attraction had led to him finally taking action and inviting Henry back to his dorm room.

You could call it a spur of the moment decision since he hadn’t started the night looking to get laid, but it was something Alex had been considering, consciously or not, since his first week of college. At that time he’d still been blind to his own bisexuality but Henry had unintentionally forced him into having a sexuality crisis. And he didn’t even know his name.

His best friend Nora had been both a help and a hindrance in the following two weeks. She was too smart and perceptive for her own good and brought Alex to realisation quicker than he’d have managed on his own. The problem was, she lived in the same building as the beautiful blond who Alex was quickly realising he might be obsessed with and caught glances of him far too often.

So, he figured himself out but still had no idea how to approach the boy that starred in most of his dreams and even invaded his waking thoughts, or even if he could. He didn’t know his name or a thing about him, only ever saw him from afar around campus, and had no idea if he was even into guys. He ended up spending months pining, which was both unusual and most unwelcome by his friends, and never doing anything about the attraction he couldn’t seem to shake. Until tonight.

Alcohol had been flowing for hours at the Christmas party being held in his dorm and Alex had managed to get suitably drunk when he spied Henry across the room. Thank god for liquid confidence and the reckless abandon it brought, Alex thought as he found himself walking in Henry’s direction, determined to finally put an end to this one way or another.

“Hey!” Alex called over the music, his words only slightly slurred.

“Hi,” he replied with a smile and Alex could just make out the accent shaping the word. He wasn’t usually all that into accents, not even British ones that seemed to make American girls swoon, but he couldn’t deny that this one was doing it for him. And he’d only said one word. Maybe he could chalk it up to being drunk for now, even if he knew for a fact that wasn’t the case.

“I’m Alex.” He offered the boy his hand and a soft palm slid into his grip. Alex tried not to think about how good his hands would feel elsewhere.

“Henry. I’ve seen you around my dorm a lot, your friends live there?” So Henry had noticed him too.

“Yeah, Nora does.”

“Nora… Isn't she the genius one who’s always got a laptop with her?”

“The very same. So you’ve met?”

“A few times. She likes psychoanalysing me.”

“Yeah, she does that a lot. She’s kinda freakishly perceptive.”

“I’ve noticed.” He smiled softly and took a swig of his drink. Alex’s eyes were glued to his throat as he watched him swallow and wow, it was really getting hot in there.

“So, what are you studying?” He asked after a moment of silence in which he dragged his mind from the gutter.

“English Literature, you?”

“Political Science. So, let me guess, favourite author is Charles Dickens?”

“Jane Austin actually.” They talked for a little longer and yeah, Alex really liked this guy. Henry managed to catch up and get on Alex’s level of buzzed, losing some of his control and frequently looking at Alex in a way that had him very hot under the collar.

The sexual tension climbed between them as they drank and danced - at Alex’s insistence - and talked until it was too much to bear. Henry’s eyes had barely left Alex since he struck up a conversation and he looked like pure temptation with his flushed cheeks tousled hair, Alex couldn’t resist it any longer. He shuffled close to Henry, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him down into a searing but uncoordinated kiss. There was a moment where Henry didn’t respond and Alex thought he��d misread something but it was fleeting and he found himself practically melting when Henry kissed back and hands landed on his hips.

Both of them were too drunk to make it a good kiss but neither cared. It was hot and heavy and filled with pent up want on both sides. Henry was far from the shy, quiet guy Alex had seen around now and he didn’t kiss a thing like he’d expected. He moved confidently, taking what he wanted and giving Alex everything he needed in return and Alex wondered how he’d managed to go his whole life without this.

“You wanna get out of here?” Alex asked breathlessly when he pulled away, opening his eyes and meeting Henry’s which were dark with want. He was a little flustered at the question and its implications, which amused Alex after the way he’d just been kissing him, but Alex could read the answer on his face before he even said it.

“Yes. Gladly.”

Which is how Alex had ended up pressed against his bedroom door, hands tangled in that soft blond hair, lips locked with those perfect pink ones that had been drawing Alex in for months now. He ground his hips against Henry’s, groaning at the friction and slotting a thigh between his legs, pressing up and drawing the most beautiful sounds from his lips.

“Alex...fuck…” Henry breathed right in his ear and Alex felt like he might combust. God, his name hand never sounded as good as it did when Henry said it. He found Henry’s lips again and everything went into a haze. Clothes were torn off, lips traced hot, sweat-slicked skin, hands and mouths dragged out lustful sounds and sent them both tumbling into blissful oblivion.

Alex woke first the next morning. He squinted in the early light pouring through his window and tried to remember what had happened the night before through the pounding in his head. There were drinks, lots of them, he recalled, dancing, kissing, blond hair… it was all a bit blurry. As his senses properly returned he noticed another weight dipping the mattress.

Turning his head he was met with messy blond hair, pale skin, and a dawning realisation of just what the hell he’d done last night. He almost fell out of bed at the shock of finding Henry lying there beside him, very much naked and very much not leaving any room for doubt. ...So that had happened.

He watched the sleeping boy for a few minutes, taking the opportunity to admire the view while memories of last night resurfaced. Henry’s hands, his lips, his tongue, all over Alex. The taste of him, his face as it contorted in pleasure, his gasps and moans of Alex’s name. It was starting to get very hot in there again and his body was starting to react to those memories in ways he couldn’t exactly deal with right then.

Breakfast. Water. Painkillers. That’s what he needed right now. He slipped out of bed and looked on the floor for his clothes. A cold shower, he added to the list when another particularly vivid memory surfaced and he felt something stir in his belly.

He went for the shower first, dealing with his little problem and getting rid of the itchiness from dried sweat quickly. He was slightly more human by the time he’d finished and took some painkillers to help him get the rest of the way there, leaving the packet on the bedside table for when Henry woke up on his way back through the bedroom.

It turned out, as Alex discovered when he glanced out the kitchen window, that a snowstorm had hit during the night. He vaguely remembered seeing some news report warning about it a few days ago but hadn’t truly believed it would happen so of course the universe had decided to prove him wrong. Several feet of the white stuff had already settled from what he could see and was still falling heavily from the sky. He shrugged it off at first, graciously accepting his fate of being stuck inside watching TV or studying all day - oh the humanity!, before remembering Henry. Henry who was still in his bed. Henry who he’d just had a one night stand with. Henry who couldn’t get home in this weather. Well. Today was going to be interesting.

He’d just finished making breakfast - eggs and bacon, greasy and the only acceptable hangover food - when he heard tentative footsteps emerging from his room. They stopped abruptly and Alex turned, finding Henry frozen like a deer in headlights. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds as Alex watched him, trying to gauge where they were at, before breaking the silence.

“...Hi.”

“Morning.” Alex tried for a relaxed smile, not 100% sure it was successful. “You want breakfast?” Henry hesitated, looking very much like he wanted the delicious smelling food, but declined.

“I should probably go…” Alex tried not to look as deflated as he felt.

“Yeah, about that… There was like a blizzard last night and we’re pretty much snowed in.”

“I can’t dig my way out?”

“Nope. And even if you could, it’s still snowing pretty bad, I’m not letting you walk all the way across campus in this.” Henry looked like he wanted to argue but there really wasn’t any way around the situation they found themselves in and he accepted defeat.

“Okay. Uh...since I’m staying, could I have breakfast after all?” He looked so awkward, still hovering in the doorway, and Alex smiled at him, hoping to help him feel more relaxed. He was going to be stuck here for a while after all.

“Sure. You want coffee as well?”

“Do you have tea?”

“Probably.” Alex set to searching the cupboards. His roommate drank tea so there should be some around. “Aha!” He exclaimed triumphantly when he found it. “Is earl grey alright?”

“That’s fine.” Henry finally moved and joined Alex in the kitchen, taking a seat at the small dining table pushed against one wall while Alex piled food on plates and poured them both a drink. He stayed quiet while they ate and Alex wasn’t entirely sure what to say in this situation. Typically, you don’t end up having breakfast and being trapped with a one night stand. Especially not when that one night stand was someone you’d been into for months.

“So, uh, I should probably tell you, I don’t usually do this.” Henry finally said when they moved to the couch and Alex put on a movie.

“What? Hook up with impossibly attractive guys or have breakfast with them the next morning?” He winked and Henry nearly choked on his tea, cheeks flaming.

“Both,” he choked out. “This is really not in my comfort zone.”

“I get that. But, it’s only awkward if we make it awkward.”

“How on Earth can this not be awkward?” Henry asked. Alex just shrugged.

“Just try to forget how amazing the sex was I guess.” Henry’s face reddened with embarrassment again and Alex grinned. “Look man, if it makes you feel any better, I’m a bit lost here too. I don’t do the one night stand thing very often either.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’ve kinda liked you for a while.”

“We never even spoke until last night though?”

“Yeah, but have you seen yourself? Anyone with eyes has a crush on you.” Henry’s flush deepened at that, as if he wasn’t used to receiving compliments, the notion of which was utterly ridiculous to Alex. Henry didn’t have any kind of response for him and Alex let out a sigh. Might as well just go for it now.

“Okay, so, I know that was probably meant to be a one time thing, but would maybe wanna do it again sometime? Or something else?” He quickly added when Henry looked at him in shock. “Like coffee or dinner or something?”

“Are you- Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah. If you want.” Henry considered for a moment, they’d really gone about this in a very backwards fashion and the idea of a simple date after what they’d done last night seemed rather odd but not unappealing.

“I’d like that.” He smiled softly and Alex felt something flutter in his chest. Hopefully he’d get to see that smile a whole lot more now.

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Firstprince: @alex-g-claremont-diaz

#red white and royal blue #FirstPrince #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz x henry fox montchristen windsor #Alex x Henry #firstprince fanfic #red white and royal blue fanfic #rwrb fanfic

55 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years

Text

Hush, Little Lamb

TW: Self hatred, vomiting

——————

Joan has gotten used to being alone. She’s gotten used to everyone going out or just going home to sleep after a show, while she was left behind to work even longer at the theater. She’s gotten used to everyone making plans and excluding her because they already knew she was going to be busy. She’s gotten used to being forgotten.

That’s just how it was. She’s accepted it.

Besides, she had other things to worry about. Like the show! The show is what she worried about the most, actually. It’s become her whole world, whether she liked it or not.

(She didn’t like it she didn’t like it at all she wanted this damn shitshow to end already she so badly wants to be free she wants to be free she wants to be free why won’t they let her go free-)

That being said, Joan’s had her fair share of sleepless nights. Usually they’re three days of work straight and then a few days of rest. Right now, however, it’s five days and the only thing keeping her going is caffeine pills. She still drinks several cups of coffee, but the pills are what really give her the kick she needed.

Naturally, this wasn’t that good for her body.

Joan started to feel sick the moment she arrived at the theater early that morning to set up. Her entire body felt like it was vibrating, rattling around her rib cage and making her heart beat way too fast. Her breath comes out in quick gasps and gulps, and her hands are jittering in an unnatural way.

Being herself, however, she shrugged it off. Like usual, her work was more important than her health.

That’s how it always was. It wasn’t only her who thought that, anyway.

Joan rubbed her itchy eyes, but it didn't help a bit. Her vision was still hazy and it certainly didn't help her growing headache. She rested her head in her hands, staring at the many unfinished papers sprawled on the table in her dressing room/office space. She didn't have time to wallow in fatigue. She picked one of the papers and plucked up her pen with fumbling fingers.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Joan dropped her pen in shock, sending black ink droplets onto the paper. She growled and stood up abruptly, immediately regretting this rash action when her head spun. She had no choice but to wait a moment and press her palms against her eyes. While she did so, she wondered about who the hell was knocking so damn loud. And why didn’t they just come in? Well, at least whoever-it-was had some respect.

“He-e-ey, Joanie!”

Nevermind.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Joan growled.

Anne gave her a weird look as she invited herself into the dressing room. She shook her head, still wearing her beaming grin that was really starting to annoy Joan.

“Came here to tell you that Maud needed you.” Anne said. Then, she studies Joan’s grey face. “You look horrible.”

“Why thank you. It took me a week or so to look like this, but I think it was worth it.”

“You've been like this for a week?” Anne asked, “Why don't you take a break or something?”

“Did you come here to criticize my way of living?”

“No,” Said Anne. She’s seen her fair share of agitated, sleep deprived women (mainly Parr), so she knew better than to prod. “Got any food? I'm famished. Ara and Jane are bringing something, but I don’t really wanna wait.”

“I have coffee.” Joan said shortly.

Anne made a face. “That bitter gross stuff? That’s not even food! What do you want to do, poison me?”

“Alas, my schemes have been foiled.” Joan sighed, “Back to the drawing board, then.”

Anne’s eyebrows furrowed a little, but she didn’t get to stay any longer, as Joan was already herding her back into the hallway. She watched the girl grab a mug of coffee and then exit the room to go find Maud.

“Uhh, Joan?”

“What?”

“Wrong direction.”

“...Oh.”

—————

Joan’s stomach was a pit of angry snakes. It hurt so badly, but all she could really do was hold it when she wasn’t playing her keyboard.

She always thought the flashing lights in the show were too much, but now she really believed that. Even when she shut her eyes, she could still see the colors flickering and blinding her. They were making her even more nauseous and, right about now, she was at risk of vomiting all over her keyboard.

And that was something she would never be able to live down.

Joan clenched a fist over her abdomen as it cramps again. She blinks back tears of pain, trying to keep herself together because she knows if she breaks she won’t be able to piece herself back together. Without a support system, she would remain shattered.

(She used to have one. Jane, Bessie, Maria, and Maggie. But now she’s pushed them away, and they’ve given up on her. They have realized that she cares more about work than she cares about them, so they don’t try anymore.

Nobody tries anymore.)

A tiny whimper bubbles forth. Joan’s doubled over on her keyboard, head angled down, so she doesn’t notice how Maggie turns around to look up at her. There’s worry glinting in the guitarist’s eyes, but she misses that, too.

—————

Joan barely makes it back to her dressing room. She collapses into the chair at the table, curling her entire body around her cramped stomach. Her forehead burns, as does every organ inside of her, but she can’t dwell on it right now. Once she uncoils herself, she has to start working.

It’s always time to work.

—————

“Has anyone seen Joan?” Bessie asked, peeking in Jane’s dressing room. She notices Anne in there, chatting with Katherine, and the green queen gets a slight concerned look in her eyes.

“I thought she went back to her dressing room,” Parr said.

“Right.” Bessie nodded. She went to slip out, but another comment halted her.

“She was acting really weird this morning,” Anne said.

“How so?” Jane titled her head. Her maternal instincts have been activated.

“Like,” Anne’s hands flutter as she searches for the right words, “She was really hostile and looked tired. Not herself, I mean.”

Bessie and Jane exchange worried looks. Since they were both mother figures to the girl, this was concerning to hear.

“Yeah,” Katherine piped up, “I noticed her all hunched over a lot during the show. Is she okay?”

“We’re going to find that out.” Jane said before exiting the room, Bessie following right behind her.

As Parr had suggested, Joan was in her dressing room. She was also still in her costume, which was strange because who would want to be in that thing any longer than they had to?

Jane circled around to one side of Joan, noting the sweat glistening on her face and how her eyes were half open but she wasn’t really awake.

“Joan?”

The girl didn’t answer, just kept staring down at the mess of papers strewn across her table. Jane rubbed up and down her back, trying to rouse her a little more.

“Joan? Joan, sweetheart, you need to wake up for me. You can’t sleep here.”

“Mmmmm....” Joan groaned. Her eyes blink open and she looked at Jane, then glanced over to Bessie, who has appeared on the other side of her. The bassist wasn’t looking at her, however, but the papers on her table. She even had a few in her hands. That was enough to snap Joan to wakefulness.

“Don’t touch that!” Joan yelped, snatching the papers away and startling both Jane and Bessie. The two women exchange looks of motherly worry.

“What happened here?” Bessie asked, nodding at the desk, “It’s a mess.”

“I don't know!” Joan cried. She felt a lump in his throat. "Too much happened! Everyone expects me to do everything they throw at me! If it’s not writing remixes or mashups, then it’s dealing with music issues, and if it’s not music issues, it’s problems with tech even though I’m not the tech director and-” She felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes and became even more upset with herself. God, what was wrong with her? Couldn't she keep her cool for one second? She buried her face in her hands and let out a muted shout of indignation. If she didn't feel so horrible she would punch out all her glass windows by now.

“Hey, sweetie, calm down," Bessie said, “Things happen all the time to everyone.”

“But this is bad,” Joan mumbled. “I can’t even do what’s asked of me...”

Bessie glanced over at the great stack of papers on Joan’s desk. She reached over to grab one. Joan gasped in panic.

“Wait!” Joan shouted. She tugged on Bessie’s sleeve to keep her from reaching the desk. “Don't read them— it's fine. Whatever. Nothing important.”

Bessie raised an eyebrow. “I'll have to find out sooner or later, won't I?”

“Yeah but—some of it's uh, different things,” Joan stammered. She casts a distressed glance at the forbidden papers on her desk, worrying about the possibilities if Bessie or Jane read through the words of self hatred written on them. “Private. Shouldn't you guys go home?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Jane crossed her arms. “Wait... When have you last slept?”

“I’m fine. Just a couple more hours. I’ve gone longer without sleep.” Joan said, attempting to dodge the question.

“Joan Morgan Seymour-Blount.” Jane said in warning, “WHEN did you last sleep?”

At the use of her middle and last name, Joan flinched. She hated when Jane used that sharp tone with her.

“That isn’t my last name,” She mumbled instead of answering again.

“You-”

Joan saw Jane’s fists ball up and watched as the queen closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths.

“You know what? Fine! Let’s go, Elizabeth. She clearly doesn’t need our help.”

Jane turned away and strode out of the room like a dark grey lightning storm. Bessie followed, but not without a quick glower over her shoulder. Once they’re gone, Joan swiveled back around in her chair and continued to work, this time with tears dotting the papers.

(Jane and Bessie would never treat Katherine or Maggie like that.)

—————

Joan didn’t even take off all of her clothes when she trudged into the theater shower. She was crying, maybe. Crying under an ice cold rain in her itchy costume.

—————

Anna had found Joan in the showers and alerted Jane and Bessie, who, despite their annoyance earlier on, went to go watch over the girl. They loitered around out by the sinks after checking to make sure Joan was okay or alive at the very least. Saying they were worried would be an understatement.

The girl who stepped out of the stall was almost unrecognizable. Her hair was a tangled blonde mop upon her head, matted from the water. Mascara and makeup were running down her face, gliding over some picked off portions of her cheek, courtesy of Joan’s dermatillomania. Her entire costume was soaked and didn’t look comfortable while wet. She was trembling like a leaf in the wind, teeth chattering, staring up at nothing in particular.

Joan looked more like a corpse than a living, breathing person.

It was Bessie who offered her coat and got a towel while Jane guided Joan over to the sink. Bessie, as gently as possible, wiped Joan off, murmuring comforting things to her while she did so.

Joan couldn’t speak. She tried to, but no words came out of her mouth. Her jaw just hung half open as she stared at the wall with a dazed expression. She was almost completely unresponsive, almost like her body was shutting down. Jane and Bessie could have done anything they wanted to her at that moment and she would have let them.

“Oh, Jane, she’s burning up.” Bessie said after feeling the girl’s forehead.

“Joan,” Jane murmured, keeping her voice soft, “When did you last sleep?”

“Five...” Joan mumbled, “Five...days..”

Jane gasped softly and Bessie sighed. Joan could feel the disappointment wavering off of them and that made fresh tears roll down her cheeks.

“How have you been staying awake?” Bessie asked.

“Caffeine pills.” Joan answered, seeing no reason to lie anymore. “Coffee didn’t work anymore... Well it did, but not well enough. I just needed a few more hours...” She noticed Jane and Bessie exchange looks and shrunk backwards, whimpering as the flow of tears grew faster. The older pair turned back to her.

“Shh, shh,” Jane murmured, wiping away her tears, “We aren’t angry, sweetheart. I promise. We aren’t mad.”

“You’re disappointed,” Joan choked out, “Of course you’re disappointed. I’m a mess and a failure and-” Warm arms encircled her freezing, shaking body and she found her face smothered in Bessie’s shoulder. That made her cry even harder, especially when Jane joined the embrace.

Joan’s heart was beating too fast. Sobbing like this makes it even harder to breathe and that makes her feel worse. The pain in her stomach becomes more extremes. She needed to sit down right now.

The girl slipped from Jane and Bessie’s arms, sinking down to her knees on the cold, dirty floor, but she could hardly care about sanitation because she was definitely about to vomit on herself.

“Hey, honey, you can’t rest here.” Bessie said, “Come on, we’ll take you home, yeah?”

“No,” Joan protested, “No, no, please...please just...just lemme...rest for a few....” Her stomach cramps again and she whimpered softly.

“I think she has a caffeine overdose.” Jane said to Bessie, who nodded grimly. “Poor thing...”

Joan feels like she’s vibrating. Her entire body is rocking to a rhythm that’s being conducted by the caffeine pumping through her entire body. She was starting to see spots and everything was spinning and-

She was definitely going to be sick.

“Joan!” Jane cried when she saw the music director leap up and sprint at an alarming speed for someone who was sick. She took a step to go after her, but stopped when she saw the girl careen into one of the bathroom stalls and start retching. She winced and looked to Bessie, who had the same saddened expression.

“Joan?” Bessie called out.

“Go a-way,” Joan replied.

“Joan, we’re not-”

“Go away!” Joan cried, which was followed by horrid coughing and gagging, “Please...please go away... Please...”

Jane and Bessie exchange looks. In fairness, Joan was retching pretty loudly and violently- they certainly wouldn’t want someone hearing them throwing up like that.

“We’ll be outside.” Jane said before she and Bessie left.

True to their word, they stayed outside the bathroom, waiting. Although they couldn’t hear Joan being sick, they could finally hear her agonized wailing and crying. The poor thing just couldn’t seem to take the stress anymore.

Joan finally broke.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

Then twenty.

Still no sign of Joan and if she was even okay.

Jane and Bessie wanted to respect the girl’s wishes and privacy, but they were starting to get worried. So, being the natural mother hens they were, they both peeked back in.

“Joan?” Jane called out.

Nothing. Not even a whimper or a gag.

“Joan? Are you okay, honey?” Bessie tried.

Still nothing.

The two of them exchange looks, then Jane stepped forward. She walks to the stall Joan had been in, pushed open the door, and gasped.

“Bessie.” Jane said, not taking her eyes off Joan laying unconscious in a pool of her own vomit, “Go get my keys. We need to get her to the hospital, NOW.”

—————

Gastric lavage sucked. The doctors said there was way too much caffeine in Joan’s system. A dangerous amount, especially with the pills she had taken. Even if she threw up a lot, pumping out her stomach would be the best choice.

Joan was a whimpering mess throughout most of it. The tube down her throat and in her stomach was already incredibly uncomfortable, but the suctioning sensation it was causing made it even worse. She just wanted to be in her mother’s arms. Bessie or Jane. She didn’t care who.

She wished she hadn’t pushed them away.

—————

Tears drip down Joan’s cheeks as she sobs into her pillow. The feeling of that damn tube down her throat has yet to go away and all she wishes right now is for Jane or Bessie or both to hold her.

But they wouldn’t. Why would they? She’s a mess.

Joan knew they both cared, Joan knew they both saw her like a daughter, but that didn’t mean they had the patience to put up with everything. She saw the exhaustion in their eyes, she saw the agitation and the irritation at how bad she’s gotten. They’re reaching their wits end. Joan needed to learn that people had limits real fast.

But maybe not right now.

She just looks so pathetic, sweat sticking her hair in every direction, beads of sweat glued to her face.

She tries to stand once she got out of bed (as in: rolling out and slamming into the floor), taking one step before collapsing to the ground. She then resorted to crawling, hoping no one sees her as she guided herself in the darkness, up the stairs, and to the nearest door.

In front of her was Bessie, laying on her side with her head resting on one arm and her black hair sprawled wildly in her face, which looked peaceful. She was having a nice, dreamless sleep as Joan crept up to her bedside.

“Bessie,” Joan whined, tugging at Bessie’s pajamas before pushing her side to side to wake her up.

“What’s the matter?” Bessie mumbled, eyes still closed as she made no signs of moving.

“I need you.” Joan doesn’t even care about her dignity at this point.

“Okay. It’s like two the morning, can it wait?”

It was actually three in the morning, but pretty close.

“I really don’t feel good.”

Joan waited for Bessie to bolt up, to ask what was wrong, to care for her, but she doesn’t.

“What’s hurts?” Bessie asked in a sigh. A sigh of annoyance, Joan knows.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” Joan whispered, her confidence draining when Bessie doesn’t seem to care, “I feel really nauseous, but my body doesn’t want me to throw up. I feel horrible.”

“Joan, listen,” Bessie finally sat up, rubbing her eyes, “I really don’t know what to tell you. You did this to yourself. Just- make yourself throw up. Maybe that’ll help? Try it. Please just- let me sleep.”

Other people needed sleep. Of course they did. Just because Joan couldn’t doesn’t mean she needs to make others suffer the same way.

Weakly, she nodded and staggered out of the room, somehow managing the strength to stand. Right before she exits, she hears Bessie mutter, “Finally” before collapsing back into her blankets.

Joan calls Jane. In fact, she calls three times, but hangs up instantly when the first thing she hears Jane say is, “What?” in a sharp, annoyed voice.

Nobody cares.

Joan collapses into the chair at her desk. She downs two caffeine pills and gets to work. Not on music director business, no. She was going to work on the papers she doesn’t like people seeing. The ones filled with scrawled, poetic words of self deprecation and hatred.

Her stress relievers, if you will.

The shaking of her hands and the tears bleeding into the parchment makes it hard to write, though. Her body is begging her to sleep, but she just can’t listen. She glances at the clock. Almost four in the morning. That makes this the sixth day she’s been awake.

She laughs at that. Six days of no sleep...the show is called Six...

Technically, there’s ten of them, though.

But it might be nine, soon. If she can’t rest and let her body heal.

For some reason, nine sounds better than ten...

Joan doesn’t sleep. Not really, she dozes in a half awake state but doesn’t sleep.

When morning comes, nobody checks on her. Her bandmates don’t do that anymore. It’s a waste of time, since she’s usually out of town or at the theater already, anyway.

Nobody cares about her.

Joan knows she’s not going to work that day. She gets a disappointed text from her director and a few annoyed ones from other crew members, but she doesn’t bother reading them. What does it matter in the long run? She’s already been slacking from lack of sleep. It won’t be long until she’s fired.

Once Maggie, Maria, and Bessie have left (without even saying goodbye or texting her at the very least), Joan staggers her way upstairs and crawls into Bessie’s bed. She hugs one of the pillows close to her chest and inhales the bassist’s comforting scent.

(Jasmine. Bessie always smells like jasmine.)

Joan smiled weakly as tears rolled down her cheeks. She snuggled up in the soft grey blankets and started playing a fantasy in her head. Jane and Bessie were there with her, caring for her, telling her how much they loved her. If she thought hard enough, she could almost feel their fingers stroking through her tangled, oily hair.

(It’s been two weeks since she’s showered.)

Smiling a broken smile and knowing she’s ruined her relationship with everyone she’s ever loved, Joan blacks out while crying.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #joan on the keys #jane seymour #bessie on the bass #catherine parr #anne boleyn #katherine howard #tw self loathing #tw self hatred #tw self deprecation #tw emetophobia #tw vomit #tw throwing up

35 notes · View notes

marmaladedtoast · 5 years

Text

Cross posted from AO3

"And of course it was completely ridiculous. So I said-" Crowley cut himself off as he watched Aziraphale try to surreptitiously scratch his back against the doorjamb again. Normally, he would just move and help scratch the itch, but this wasn't the first time he had done that today.

He had knocked over a pile of books earlier without even touching them when he had turned around today too.

"Go on, my dear," Aziraphale called as he went back to puttering around the bookshop. "I'm listening."

"What? Oh, that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Not important, forgot all about it. Are you alright?"

Aziraphale started, taken surprise by either the question or how quickly he had shifted to it. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

Crowley pursed his lips before he decided he really didn't have the patience for this game today. "What's wrong with your wings, angel?"

See, the thing was, Crowley knew wings. He was nearly an expert on them. Most of the demons got rid of their wings when they fell, a sort of last fuck you to the Almighty. But not all of them. Crowley certainly hadn't, and he took pride in caring for them, black feathers and all.

The other demons who kept their wings... didn't take such good care of them. Most took a strange kind of pride in keeping their wings nasty and disheveled, but there was only so far that could go before it stopped being aesthetic and started being supremely painful.

And most demons had let it laps so long that they had forgotten how to care for them at all.

All of this is to say that even after the botched end of the world and his general banishment from hell, Beelzebub still showed up at his flat at least once a year for him to do up her feathers.

So he knew the signs of someone who had gone too long between preenings.

Aziraphale, for his part, didn't know about Crowley's expertise, but he wasn't arguing the point. He was just shifting self-consciously from foot to foot.

"They're just a little itchy, my dear. It's a bit hard to reach the back ones."

"You want me to help?" The question was innocent enough, but Aziraphale looked at him like he had been electrocuted. Crowley instantly realized the problem.

Just because he was used to platonic grooming, didn't mean Aziraphale was. And allopreening was, and always would be, one of the most intimate things two angels could do together.

That didn't mean they didn't share a certain intimacy. They had been together for decades, faced the end of the world together, but they were still an angel and a demon.

Wings were a part of an angel or demon's true form. They were fairly sensitive limbs- made to sense the changing winds. Exposing them to anyone, letting another person grab handfuls of feathers, it was the most vulnerable they could be.

After the apocalypse, their relationship had become more defined, but Crowley had always preened his feathers himself. His snake form gave him more joints that just happened to help him take care of his remaining angelic limbs. He had always just assumed Aziraphale had his own routine, and he didn't need any help.

Now he was thinking Aziraphale hadn't been ready for this... step in their relationship.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, angel, just... just wanna help."

Aziraphale had been avoiding his gaze, and it was actually starting to hurt Crowley's feelings a bit, but then he finally broke the silence. "I don't want you to see."

Crowley cocked his head in confusion. "What?"

"It's... it's just been a long time. I didn't... I've never been good at taking care of them myself. We used to, well, I suppose they still do, but, anyway, I used to go to the department heaven had specifically for this sort of thing. They used a sort of... comb thing. Took care of it all rather quickly, actually, but now..."

He trailed off and Crowley stared at him in shock. "Angel, are you telling me you have not had your wings properly groomed since the apocalypse?"

"Well, a few months before, technically."

"That was five years ago!"

"I am well aware," Aziraphale snapped, his voice threatening towards a whine.

"Why haven't you just asked them-"

"Don't you think I have?!"

Crowley stepped back like he had been slapped. Aziraphale crossed his arms and glared at the floor.

"You... Aziraphale, are you telling me heaven has... denied you help grooming your wings?"

Aziraphale just shrugged.

That was amazingly cruel. Not even hell would do that to a person. It was... abhorrent. He knew better than most how uncared for wings could fester, but he had no doubts that those bastards in heaven knew exactly what would happen.

"...let me help. Please."

Aziraphale wrung his hands together.

Five years. Crowley couldn't even imagine. Couldn't believe he hadn't noticed until now.

"It's... it's rather bad, my dear. I really.... I'll figure out how to take care of it."

"Angel, I've helped demons take care of their wings. I'm sure I've seen worse."

Aziraphale looked up at that, but he still seemed wary. "Did you really?"

"Well, my kind didn't exactly have a whole department for this sort of thing. Somebody had to do it."

"I suppose... if you're really sure?"

Crowley moved closer and pulled Aziraphale close, cradling his face between his hands. "I would wade through holy water for you. I think I can manage a little grooming."

Aziraphale chuckled just a little and pressed his forehead against Crowley's. "Alright," he whispered.

The trouble with grooming angel wings was that they couldn't just be miracled clean. The wings were themselves made of a kind of miracle, so they resisted any miracle-ing. You needed to care for them the old fashioned way or not at all.

And, as with all things, the old fashioned way took a lot of time.

So they closed the shop and moved upstairs. Crowley brought a chair from the kitchen and set it up in the middle of the room.

It wouldn't be the most comfortable situation, but it was the most practical. If Aziraphale laid down on the bed, he wouldn't be able to easily reach the underside of his feathers, and an actual armchair wouldn't be work at all.

Aziraphale didn't fuss about the seating arrangement, just sat backwards on the chair and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He took a deep breath and then he unfurled his wings.

"O-oh," Crowley gasped before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale sat straight up and drew his wings in close to his body. "Oh, I told you this was a bad idea!"

"No, no!" Crowley nearly tripped over himself to place a comforting hand on his angel. "I just realized I forgot some stuff we'll need. I've seen way worse."

He hadn't.

Aziraphale's once pristine, white wings were now a dingy gray. Crowley might have been worried about the state of his lover's soul, but he was pretty sure it was dirt, and not an indication that he was falling from grace. Nearly every feather was split and kinked out of place, or just plain broken, and there was... there was a smell. He had seen all of these things at one point or another, but never all on the same set of wings.

He had worked in hell for six thousand years, and he had never seen torture like this.

But he could hardly say that. Aziraphale was clearly embarrassed, but Crowley could not stand by now that he knew about this. So he miracled himself a chair, a warm bowl of water, a towel, and sat down to work.

"Is that a bowl of water?" Aziraphale asked, craning his neck to try and see behind him properly.

"Yes of course it's a bowl of water, what else would it be?"

Aziraphale pouted, his wings drawing up close to his back. "Crowley, I hate getting my wings wet!"

"....Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Crowley sighed and ran a hand experimentally through Aziraphale's feathers. "Angel, a lot of this could be fixed with a bath."

"... I tried a dust bath."

Well that would explain the grayness. He dislodged a few broken feathers absentmindedly as he tried to figure out the best way to fix this mess. He didn't want to make the angel more uncomfortable than he already was, but there was really no way around it. "I need to use at least a little water, angel. Can't clean 'em properly if I don't."

"It just feels so... icky."

The demon fought to think of a solution that would let him fix Aziraphale's wings without making him upset. "Well, maybe I can waterproof them first and then-"

"No!" Aziraphale jumped from the chair as Crowley's hands got close to his oil glands. Crowley snatched his hands away like he had been burned and looked up at the skittish angel.

He wouldn't say anything, but this constant rejection hurt more than a little bit. He didn't understand why he was having to work so hard just to take care of Aziraphale. He didn't understand why Aziraphale wouldn't let Crowley touch him.

Clearly the angel didn't trust him as much as he thought.

The hurt must have shown, because Aziraphale's face crumpled.

"I didn't mean... Oh, Crowley, I'm sorry, I... it just hurts so much! Please don't try to use any oil. I can't..."

Crowley frowned so hard he was a bit worried he might get wrinkles. "Your oil glands hurt?"

"Horrendously. But only if they're touched."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He needed to stay calm. "Alright. Angel, I need you to go lie down on the bed so I can look at them."

"Do you really have to?"

"Now, Assssiraphale," Crowley snapped. Aziraphale startled, but shuffled over to the bed, his damaged wings twitching nervously.

Crowley didn't want to be mean, but that wasn't something he could just ignore.

There were few things in the universe that could actually cause an angel or demon to become sick. Really, properly sick. Wasting away, rotting from the inside out, sick.

An infected oil gland was one of those things.

Crowley knelt next to Aziraphale on the bed and gingerly pushed away the feathers to look. He wanted to comfort the angel, but he couldn't find the words. All he could do was hold his breath.

He knew how to groom wings but that didn't make him a doctor. There was only so much he could do if it had gone past a certain point.

He didn't know what they would do if it was bad.

The feathers parted and Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. It was bad. It was still really bad. But it didn't look infected.

Crowley gently pressed a finger against the swollen gland to gauge the reaction. Aziraphale yelped and arched off the bed. The sound felt like a punch to the gut, but Crowley had to ignore the feeling. He was going to have to cause Aziraphale pain to help him, no matter how much the very thought of hurting the angel hurt Crowley.

Making soothing noises, Crowley brought his fingers up to eye level and rubbed them together. There wasn't a drop of oil on them.

"They're impacted," he said softly, rubbing at the space between Aziraphale's wings. "But I don't think they're infected."

"Can you fix it?"

"Yeah, I should be able to..." Crowley's eyes snapped towards movement, and he parted some errant feathers to confirm his suspicions. "Sssson of a bitch."

"What? What's wrong?"

"You have mitessss." He should have suspected at least that part. For whatever reason, the space where wings were kept when not in use was also home to itty bitty bugs. And as annoying as it was, interdimensional mites were a common affliction.

He had thought it was the out of place feathers that had been causing the itching, but it had probably been these bastards.

"Oh good lord!" Aziraphale slammed his face into the mattress and covered his head with his hands.

"It'sss fine, angel. Juss-" he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to reign in his hiss. "Just another thing. I can fix it. It'll just... take a while."

He made the water he had miracled much, much hotter and dipped the cloth into the water. The first thing he had to deal with was the impacted glands. Those were causing Aziraphale actual pain. Everything else was just discomfort.

He placed the damp cloth over the left wing gland and ran his fingers through Aziraphale's hair.

"Ah, hot," Aziraphale muttered, but he didn't arch away in pain again, so Crowley counted that a win. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the damp cloth. "My sweater's going to get wet."

Crowley rolled his eyes and miracled the garment away, ignoring Aziraphale's resulting squeak.

They sat that way in silence for a while as Crowley waited for the impacted oil in the gland to soften from the heat.

Aziraphale peeked at him over his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured "I should have asked for help sooner, and now everything's... well, I've made quite the mess of my wings."

"You didn't know I groomed wings," he replied, just as softly.

"It's not about that. We... we've been together for a long time. I should have asked you for help. As my partner."

Crowley pursed his lips. He couldn't really argue about that. He couldn't pretend that he hadn't been hurt that Aziraphale hadn't even considered him with things this bad. But he still understood. A bit.

"Well, I could have brought it up. Asked you for help, too, instead of just taking care of it myself." He took Aziraphale's hand and squeezed. "We could make this a regular thing. If you wanted."

Aziraphale chuckled and squeezed Crowley's hand back. "That sounds nice." He shifted his wing and winced. "Fixing this is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Probably." Crowley lifted the cloth and prodded at the gland. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn't jump, so it seemed like it had softened up as much as it was going to. "Ok, angel, I'm gonna try and clear this one out. I need you to not move, ok?"

The angel nodded and took two fistfuls of the bedding under him. Crowley took a deep breath, and then squeezed.

Aziraphale screamed, but the blockage was coming out.

The glands were up near the joint where the wing met the back, and they were hard to reach. Since Aziraphale hadn't been grooming his wings, the oil the gland had produced hadn't had anywhere to go. Trapped in the gland, the oil had solidified and gone bad.

A nasty, yellow sludge crept out of the gland and smelled like the depths of hell, but it was coming out. Crowley grit his teeth and kept pressing until his fingers were coated in clear, clean oil.

He pulled away and miracled the soiled cloth to the farthest point away from them as he could think of. That point being a particularly nasty pit of hell. They probably wouldn't even notice, really.

Aziraphale had done his best not to move, but at some point he had half curled into a fetal position. Crowley murmured comforting nonsense as he rubbed the tight muscles of Aziraphale's back, trying to ease the pain he had caused.

"I can't do it again, Crowley, I can't. Please don't do that again. Please don't."

Crowley was surprised he didn't break right in half at the sound of the angel's broken pleas. "It's almost done, love. Just one more."

"I can't, I can't, I can't."

"We can take a little break," he soothed. "We don't need to go again right away. But we have to take care of it. You know that. We're lucky they're not infected already."

Aziraphale didn't respond, he was shaking and Crowley wasn't sure he even could respond at this point.

It wasn't the best angle, but Crowley started to do some standard grooming, pulling out the broken feathers and straightening the crooked ones.

It didn't really count, since he still needed to deal with the mites before he could actually put the feathers in place, but it would feel good, and he needed something to draw Aziraphale out of the memory of pain.

He was a demon, pain was kind of their thing, and for all that Crowley had worked to avoid that part of the job, he still knew how to cause it. And to cause pain properly, you needed to know what things made pain a distant memory.

Crowley ran his fingers down individual feathers, occasionally reuniting barbules to smooth down a feather and fix a split, but mostly he was just... petting. He watched Aziraphale's body language carefully, waiting for him to uncurl and for his muscles to relax.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually the angel did uncurl, turning boneless under Crowley's ministrations.

"Does that feel better, angel?"

"Hmm," he blinked up at him, dazed. "Oh, yes, it feels... quite nice, really. I might fall asleep."

He chuckled and stopped going through the feathers. "Not just yet, angel." He had put another hot cloth over his other wing when Aziraphale had started to relax, and he removed that now so he could look at the impacted gland.

Aziraphale stiffened up again, and Crowley waited for him to relax against the bed again.

"I won't start until you say," he said softly.

The angel took a shuddering breath, but he didn't give Crowley the go ahead, so he still waited. He could have been worried that Aziraphale would never be ready; that he would try and avoid fixing his other oil gland because he knew how much it would hurt, but Crowley knew he wasn't stupid. It was a problem that needed to be taken care of, and they would take care of it.

Just as soon as Aziraphale was ready.

"Alright," he said, with only a slight tremor to his voice. "I'm ready."

Crowley squeezed.

The second time went better than the first, if only because Aziraphale passed out. It took a lot to make an angel or demon pass out, but extreme pain in a sensitive part of their true body would do it pretty good.

Crowley was just glad Aziraphale wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore.

He cleaned out the gland, thinking murderous thoughts about heaven. He didn't want another apocalypse; humans didn't deserve to die over a fight between heaven and hell, but if he got the chance to storm heaven's gates, he wouldn't exactly say no.

This was cruel. This was a death sentence that was so much worse than hellfire or holy water. A slow and rotting death that no one ever deserved.

But it was over now. They had dealt with it in time and Crowley would never let Aziraphale get to this point again. He would never hurt like this again.

With both glands cleaned out, Crowley arranged Aziraphale's wings and covered him with his favorite blanket. They still had a lot of work to do, but they both needed a break.

Crowley didn't care how long it took, he was going to make sure his angel was happy and healthy.

Crowley had miracled Aziraphale a more comfortable chair. Something that was more like a massage chair, but with a place for him to set a book. Crowley was currently bug hunting, and he couldn't tell you how long he had been doing it. It was monotonous work, but he was determined to win the war.

Aziraphale had one of his favorite books, but he would stop reading every once in a while to talk to Crowley.

"So how often do you... do this? For other demons?"

"Hmm?" Crowley looked away from the mite he was chasing and swore under his breath as it escaped. "Usually at least once a year. Most demons like the disheveled look, so they don't ask too often."

"No, I can understand. It certainly takes a long time."

Crowley snorted. "It doesn't normally take this long, angel. I just can't get rid of the mites the way I normally do."

"How do you normally do it?"

"Burn 'em off with hellfire."

"Ah. Well, yes, that wouldn't work here, I suppose." He turned back to his book, but Crowley could tell he was still feeling tense. It was all through his wings.

"I actually haven't ever fully groomed wings that aren't mine. They just ask me to fix, like, you know, a few broken feathers or something and then leave."

"Oh," Aziraphale said brightly. He twisted his head to look at Crowley. "It would be okay if it was more, of course. I know it's purely a professional courtesy."

Crowley pressed a kiss to the nape of Aziraphale's neck as a response and they lapsed back into a more comfortable silence.

Once he was sure he had crushed every last damned bug that had the misfortune to think it could make Aziraphale's wings its home, he moved to the actual preening.

He trailed his hands through the feathers, seeking anything out of place. He ran his fingers along every barb on every feather, from the primaries to the coverts, going back and coating them in oil once they were in their proper place.

Aziraphale sighed and melted into the chair. Crowley was sure the pain and itching was taken care of, and for the first time in who knows how long, the angel could finally, truly relax.

Crowley wanted to catalog every spot that made Aziraphale sigh, every ticklish and sensitive spot, but he knew that his wings must be getting oversensitive. He couldn't give an exact number, but he knew this process had taken at least a couple of days. Having anyone's hands in your wings for days, no matter how gentle, would get to be too much. So he did his best not to linger.

"There," he said, finally. "Good as new." He sat back to admire his handiwork. Aziraphale's wings had been restored to their white, shining glory, not a pinion out of place. It was his best work yet, if he did say so himself.

Aziraphale pulled them close to his back and they winked out of existence. He rolled his shoulders experimentally, a grin spreading across his face.

"Thank you, my dear. That feels so much better."

"Let's not wait five years to to it again."

Aziraphale pulled him close and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "No, I don't think we will.... I could do up yours tomorrow, if you wanted."

Crowley smiled and wrapped his arms around his angel, a coy smile playing on his lips. "I think I could clear a place in my schedule."

#good omens #aziraphale/crowley #wing fic #wing grooming #hurt/comfort #tw: hiding medical issues #tw: painful medical issues #tw: painful and gross medical procedures #tw: pus #tw: bugs #tw: mites #tw: medical neglect #it sounds really bad #but it turns out ok #just don't want to take anyone by surprise #it does get a little gross in the middle #My writing

161 notes · View notes

uncannycookie · 5 years

Text

I reworked the prologue for my book again based on this one inktober thing I did last year... yes it takes me literal years to finish one (1) scene now T-T

anyway here are some brutally shortened snippets + bad art

***

Emri brushes fistfuls of hair out of his face, rubs his eyes with just a bit too much force. Plush stops purring and jumps off the bed with an offended sound at being woken at this hour.

"I can't see it," says the apprentice, her small fingers fumbling with the hem of her night clothes. "But it's moving stuff and makes everything dark."

"That's alright." Emri drags his cloak from the chair next to him and pulls it around his shoulders as he stands up. "They usually don't mean anything bad by that."

***

That spot of darkness is, for the moment, not even the most irritating thing in the room.

"Why haven't you left?" he asks the group of apprentices huddled by the door. "Do you – who is teaching this class? Have you not done emergency training?"

"Master Irimel gave us a list," says the girl who came to get Emri.

“A list.” She starts shuffling her feet in embarrassment when Emri levels an exhausted look at her. "Well," he starts, softly. "Well. That's. I mean. There must have been – scheduling issues regarding the actual training." Deep breath. "Good, alright, never mind all that. Just go over to the next dorm, everyone. There is no time for proper procedure anymore.”

Because someone was unable to properly train her class of very tiny people for emergencies that everyone knows will definitely happen.

As soon as this is done, Emri will fight Master Irimel.

***

He’s not in uniform. No protective gear, just his sleepwear under his favorite cloak - which he's wearing inside out, he notes absently.

But he has his goggles, a provisional breathing mask and the emergency oxygen tank. He’ll make do.

He turns the dials around the glasses, adjusting for air humidity levels and oxygen content, satisfied when his vision starts glowing a deep red. His eyes immediately become itchy and dry, but at least the painful strain from staring directly into Void is gone now.

So is the risk of going blind, incidentally.

***

That spirit – it was condensed before, of course, practically curled into itself, overwhelmed by the curious auras of a dozen children bearing down on it.

But it was hiding a lot more of itself than Emri realized. Now it unfurls comfortably like a cat stretching its limbs upon waking, even shudders at the edges as if shaking off sleep.

Emri has yet to sense any sort of malice from its world ending existence. He is half convinced by this point the poor thing simply got lost.

Nothing about its aura feels angry or vengeful, or even especially sad. Confusion and curiosity are the main impressions Emri gets from the darkness. Some wistfulness. A sort of nostalgic homesickness that doesn't even hurt anymore, but is just a soft background noise to every single thought.

This one is old.

Images of lush greenery and thunderous waterfalls pass into Emri’s mind, humid air set alight by rays of golden sunshine. The spirit is not lost, not exactly – it knows this is the right place. Only not a single thing about the place is still the same.

His sigh is muffled behind the mask. There are maybe a handful of hieroglyphs he knows from that time. Nothing in the way of context. Nothing that would help him express "I know you're not doing it on purpose, but your mere presence here is killing my people. Please go back to the Void so I don't have to destroy you."

***

I dunno I’m thinking about Emri a lot lately and I just wanna draw him all the time, so these happened... maybe I’ll do the rest of the scene later

#OC #myOCs #original character #character design #illustration #art or sth #my writing #original novel #long post #ok did tumblr get rid of the horizontal lines or am I just stupid??#where are they #how do I structure text posts now come onnnn T-T

62 notes · View notes

vin-taege · 6 years

Text

cult following (m)

summary: in the middle of making a new movie, your co-star’s irresistible looks and explosive personality soon turn it into a porno.

genre: smut, fluff, pwp

pairing: actor!Jin x reader

words: 2.6k

warnings: spitting, boob jobs, degradation, kinda hate sex but not really, semi-pubic sex, sexual taunting (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, semi-clothed sex, choking, frenemies

(this gif will be the death of me)

The sweater the stylists gave you was a little too itchy for your liking, but they couldn’t find any replacements for it. They were already given a good scolding by your manager, but that still didn’t help your situation now – a tiny itch at the bottom of your back, growing into a huge nuisance. To say it was distracting was an understatement.

However, even with the itchy sweater, the shitty set, and the blinding lighting, the show must go on.

This was the climax of the film; you were supposed to scream for help, and just as Jungkook’s about to stab you, Jin emerges from behind the counter to whack him over the head with a fire extinguisher. The old “I’m-not-dead-yet” trope in horror movies.

Everything was going well so far. You were down to your final line before Jin’s cue. “They were our friends! I- We- We trusted you! What would you even gain with- with- fuck!”

“Cut!” Yoongi hopped off the director’s chair, nose crumpled in frustration. “This is the fourth time, ___. Could you please get your lines memorized? It’s ‘What would you even gain in doing this!” he repeated, digging his nails into his palm. Yoongi wasn’t the director anymore, he was just this small, shaking ball of rage. “It’s one simple line, ___. One simple line!”

Over the sound of Yoongi’s relentless yelling, you could hear Jin snicker, the man now leaning over the counter and whispering to Jungkook. “I told you she was perfect for the role of all boobs, no brain”

“Hyung, she might hear-“

“If only your acting was as good as your face,” you shot back at him, giving him a look that shot daggers. “Don’t get so high and mighty with me, Mr. Kim. You weren’t exactly so smooth with your lines three scenes ago.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to act with fake blood in your mouth?” he slammed the fire extinguisher down the marble countertop, an awkward silence immediately filling the set. “I could feel the unmixed cornstarch at the back of my throat!”

“Oh, no, princess isn’t used to having shit down his throat. Why don’t you cry about it to your PA?”

In the midst of the commotion, Jungkook managed to silently move away, mildly annoyed, but also very much afraid with the bickering going on between his two co-stars. He slid next to Yoongi, who was now mumbling curse words while rubbing his temples. Next to him was Jimin, scribbling something down on his clipboard before turning to Jungkook. “Ah, well isn’t this the perfect time to, uh, retouch your makeup! You won’t mind Mr. Jeon having a quick retouching right, boss?”

The assistant nervously laughed, clutching Jungkook’s arm tightly to drag him away from the chaos in the making. Yoongi didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“Okay, that’s enough!” He shouted, catching Jin mid-scream. “There will be no fighting in my set. Not in my set. You,” he punctuated with a finger flitting between you and Jin. “Fifteen minute break to get your shit together.”

Your respective assistants walked you off, making sure to lead you in opposite directions. Mina fussed over you, adjusting your clothes from time to time, and straightening your hair. “You were doing amazing, Ms. ___. Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just jealous of your star power. How about you visit Mr. Jeon’s trailer, he sounds like a sweet boy.”

Mina, though faithful to you, was also a nervous wreck sometimes. You appreciated the fact that she didn’t want to disappoint you, but she was also too much at times. “I really don’t want to bother Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he would rather not see me after what happened with Jin.”

The echo of your heels on the polished floor was the only thing heard for a while. Mina busied herself with double-checking your schedule and answering phone calls directed to you. She was in the middle of a call with one particular pushy client when she realized that you weren’t walking beside her anymore. “Ms. ___? Ms____!”

Unbeknownst to her, you took a right turn minutes ago to walk into a dimmed down set, the faint silhouette of a bed inside prompting you to come in. Your hectic schedule barely left you with time to yourself, much less time to sleep. At least a fifteen minute power nap and a few feet away from Jin were enough to be grateful for.

The bed was bigger than you expected, a king-sized one graced with a soft comforter and big, fluffy pillows. This way an opportunity way too good to pass off.

You kicked your heels off, stretching your arms a little, before plopping onto the mattress. You draped the comforter over your tired body, and curled into a little ball. For a few minutes, it was good. Until you heard heavy breathing.

“What the fuck?” you heard a hoarse voice whisper right next to you. Without a second thought, you threw off the covers, screaming and kicking the mystery man off the bed in the process. “Mina! Min-“

A hand clamped over your mouth. With your eyes adjusted to the dark, you saw Jin’s face awkwardly close to yours; his wide eyes matching your shocked expression. You licked the inside of his hand, making him draw it back in disgust. “Are you always so loud?”

“Are you always such a perverted stalker?” His face grew red at your comment, eyebrows furrowing with annoyance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you owned the set now.”

“All I wanted was to rest. Just a couple of minutes away from you, but you just had to be in the same bed as I am.”

“Big deal. I’m tired too! How about you stick to your side over there, and I stick to my side over here. Then, we shall never speak of this every again.” He rolled over, his back facing you. You let out an angry whine, tugging the comforter harshly over yourself. Jin’s eyes flew open, the cold air making him shiver.

Wordlessly, he tugged it back, eliciting almost the same reaction from you. Soon enough, you engaged a mini tug-of-war over the blanket, both sides too stubborn to give up or just share.

“Why don’t you act like a gentleman for once?”

“Why don’t you stop being a brat?”

One harsh tug sent you crashing down on his chest, tangling you between his warm body and the comforter. For a few seconds, both of you were frozen. The unthinkable happened and now you were squished up against the world’s most dramatic actor. He seemed to have the same thought process, though his hands slid their way to your lower back subconsciously.

Without missing a beat, you he crashed his lips into yours, your mouths dancing in perfect sync to the kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips, asking for entrance- which you gladly gave him. You let him roam around your mouth before detaching your lips, a teasing smirk playing on your face. He groaned, harshly flipping you over.

He directed his attention to your neck, sucking and biting at every inch until the skin’s been covered with purple love bites. He brought his hips down, pressing it against you crotch. You sighed at the feeling, starting to grind against his hardening member.

“So much for power nap,” you mumbled, hearing a silent chuckle from him. His hands moved to crumple your shirt over your breasts, tugging at the straps of your bra. “Off?”

“Not enough time. You have a spare shirt in your trailer or something?” you nodded, giving him a puzzled look. He just shrugged, pulling your bra under your boobs. He shuffled closer, retracting his hips from yours, a whine coming for your lips. He laughed, bringing his knees on either sides of your torso. “I fuck just as messy as I eat, princess.

”His large hands enveloped your breasts, kneading them slowly. He leaned down to suck on a nipple, his hand pressing a fingertip on the other one. He pinched at it, making you cry out, mind overwhelmed with the sudden pain and pleasure. Giving one last solid lick, he unbuttoned his pants, slipping it off with his boxers just enough to release his dick.

You boldly wrapped your hand around him, giving him slow strokes. He moaned, bucking his lips into your touch. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of him; the head red, pre-cum dripping all the way down to your boobs. He stared at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning at the mess he made on you.

You continued tugging at his cock, spreading the some of the pre-cum on his shaft and around his head. You let go, only to dip your fingers into most of the pre-cum that already made its way to your breasts. You spread it over the swells of your chest as best you can; Jin almost drooling as he watched you.

“For the record, I always knew you were a tits type of guy,” you smiled at him, bringing your head up to kiss the tip of his dick. He let out a hiss, hands flying back to grab your breasts, this time a little tighter; pushing them against each other. He repositioned himself so that his tip was rubbing against the underside of your cleavage. “That I am.”

He started to thrust into the tight space between your breasts, groaning as the supple, warm skin enveloped his throbbing cock. You raised your head a little to catch the tip of his dick with your tongue each time he thrust forward.

Jin’s moans sounded like sweet music – high-pitched and breathless – making your core wetter with each broken cry of your name. You felt your wetness soaking through your panties. It would only be a matter of time before you leaked onto the bed. Yoongi would certainly be pissed, but with the amount of money he gets with each film, you were sure he wouldn’t have a problem replacing it, much less replacing the bed altogether.

“F-fuck! Wanna make a mess on your tits so bad. You’d look so pretty with my cum all over you. Slap that shit on Playboy and show everyone who you’re a bitch for hm?” His lips stuttered, sending him into a frenzy. As much as he’d love to try the Playboy idea, he didn’t want to come yet. He pulled out, denying himself of his own release. “But not for today.”

Suddenly, you had an idea. It was bitchy, and downright mean to Jin, but after his snide comments from the last scene, you felt less guilty.

“Are you done? I was starting to get a little sleepy back there,” your voice was sickly sweet, punctuated by a fake yawn. Jin’s face instantly reddened, anger slowly replacing the blissed-out expression he had. “Or maybe you’re just fucking my boobs because that’s the only way you’ll make your dick look bigger.”

Sharp pain made its way to your scalp as Jin tugged your hair back. His other hand squeezed your jaw hard, making you open it. Before you knew it, a thick glob of his pit landed on your tongue, some of it starting to drip down your throat. He clamped your jaw shut again, forcing you to swallow the saliva.

“Spoiled starlets like you deserve nothing but cocks up your cunts,” he grunted, harshly pulling at your jeans and panties. He threw the material off the bed, but held onto your underwear, pushing half of it inside your throbbing cunt. “You need to be taught respect.”

He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. You clenched around your soiled panties as he brought his hand down again. He slowly took the wet fabric out, letting it join your pants on the floor. He dragged the head of his length from your clit to your folds, parting them as he shallowly thrusted in. “You need to learn how to obey.”

Without warning, he slammed into you, not giving you time to adjust before he started pounding mercilessly. Your previous words came back to bite you in the ass- he was nowhere near small. He wasn’t big on girth, but he sported a long cock, accompanied by a mouth-watering curve. He reached you deeper than anyone could.

As if you were going to tell him that. You wanted to play your game a little bit more, just to see how far you could push him.

“Is that the best you h-have?” you managed to say through gritted teeth, though your legs curled around his waist to bring him closer.

“I was just warming up,” he seethed, his thrusts speeding up. You bit hard on your lower lip to stop your moans; failing as a few whimpers slipped out here and there. You clutched the bedsheets tightly, knuckles turning white. Jin was fucking into you so hard you could almost see stars. But being stubborn as always, you continued to irk him.

“I can barely – mmphm – barely feel you inside me right no-“ Jin cut you off with a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Your eyes bulged out before narrowing, allowing tears caused by pleasure to fall freely. Your body shook with the intensity of how good you were getting fucked.

“You talk too much for someone you can barely remember one-liners,” he snickered, followed by a guttural moan. You could feel your orgasm building up, Jin sensing it as well with how tight you were clenching around him. “I sh-shouldn’t allow you to cu-m but…”

Hot white pleasure crashed upon you, the broad-shouldered actor fucking you through your orgasm. Your nails dug into his flawless skin, leaving deep crescent marks, and long angry stripes of red. A silent yell caught in your mouth, Jin’s grip on you still tight, making you light-headed. The mind-numbing release and the lack of oxygen was close enough to put you into unconsciousness, when he suddenly let go of you, spilling his hot seed deep in your pussy.

You took in deep gulps of air, body shivering at your heightened sensitivity. After Jin milked the rest of the cum out, he pulled out and laid next to you- panting as equally hard. When you’ve had enough time to calm down, you could faintly hear footsteps approaching, but decided to push the thought away. You turned around to face him, guilt evident in your tone.

“I didn’t mean all the shit I said.”

Surprisingly, he laughed. A wide grin broke through his blissed out features, his eyelids fluttering open to look at you. “I know.”“

We are the most problematic stars, huh?” It was funny how mere seconds ago, he was giving you the hardest orgasm of your life, and now you were talking as if you just had coffee over lunch break. “Yoongi is going to freak out.”

The thought made the two of you chuckle.

“Mr. Kim, Mr. Min is looking for you,” The trembling voice of Jin’s assistant came from entrance. His boss rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm protectively around you, making you struggle to turn around. “He - uh- he sounds very mad,” he added, doing his best not to peek through the hand covering his eyes, making you giggle. Instead, he turned his head to the door, yelling a quick “Mina, I found them!”

In turn, you groaned, burying yourself and Jin inside the blankets. He held you close to him, trying to salvage as much of the ruined moment due to the sudden disturbance.

“If you’re not too busy after shooting, maybe we could have dinner together?” he asked in a tiny voice, in contrast to his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. You laughed, hitting his chest lightly.

“Sure, minus the assistants.”

A raspy chuckled followed, a sigh of agreement leaving him. “Yes, minus the assistants.”

#bts smut #jin smut #hyunglinenetwork #bangtan smut #jin x reader #jin #kim seokjin #bts #bts jin scenarios #bts jin imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #smut

523 notes · View notes

hungergames-fanfic · 5 years

Text

Sleep My Little Dora

To make sure no one steals our horses or carriage daddy pays a local man to keep watch. Cause the stew pot is hot and momma Bilmin carries the basket of bread up the flights of stairs, it's my job to run up before them to open the exit door. Down the hallway, sounds of children crying and faint yelling can be heard through the walls. When we get to the Oxoro's door, I can hear the sounds of gunshots. They're watching television, most likely an illegal film. Movies of any kind aren't allowed unless they’re filmed from home or shown on one of the government approved channels.

Eddy opens the door by just a crack. He peeks out and I'm the first he focuses his eyes on. My cheeks feel warm. Spotting daddy he opens the door wide and steps aside. In here, normally empty, it's full of people who turn away from the television to see who it is. On the sofa sit Mr Oxoro, a woman and another man. On the floor is Vano, outside the window is Omarion talking to someone out of view, i assume it’s Felix. Next to him, with her foot inside is a girl that catches my eye.

At first she looks like a boy. Fluffy short hair sticks out the front of her backwards hat, she wears a big green shirt and black shorts. Her socks too big for her skinny ankles, they fall loosely off her foot.

Mr Oxoro stands up once he sees daddy and helps momma Bilmin with the basket. He welcomes us in the house and introduces us to everyone. When he says my name everyone turns to look at my arm. Including Felix who peeks in. I'm guessing they know about what happened.

"That's my sister Jenae, her husband Otto", Mr Oxoro points, "eldest you've met Vano, that at the window is Jocabeth and", he chuckles, "the little one is Abie". From the small hallway a girl sticks her head out the Oxoro sons room. "You go on Isadora", Mr Oxoro says to me, "boy been excited to see you". This brings out a big smile on my face.

In the room, across from the door, Efrain lays in his bed. He smiles wide and calls me to go closer. "It's okay, Eddy made sure to clean everythin' up and i got my shots", regardless of what he says, I still run and give him the biggest hug. "Oof", he goes and chuckles.

"Efrain!" I yelp, "so much has happened, so much i wanna tell you", I chant happily. He chuckles and looks at my cast. "I bet", he says.

I spill the second I sit on the middle bed, Felix's. I tell Efrain about being so alone during lunch and after school. How I tried to be better friends with Wendy and the other kids we play with when I come over, but none were as fun to be around. I tell him how one day I had an extra piece of bread and spotted Ari sitting all alone. "Ari?", he asks. "Yeah, Arielle", "Arielle!?", Efrain exclaims with his eyes wide. Excitedly I tell him about all the fun that I've had with her. How every day in lunch and after school we spend time together. How at home we always play games or play outside with the animals. I don’t admit we play dolls the most. I laugh when I tell him about getting lost in the shopping center in Littleburg, taking a bath with her and then working in the farm as punishment. I tell him about being in trouble for lying, having to work in the farm as punishment and getting injured riding Milk. I also mention taking Ari home before coming here but I never tell him about the kisses.The one she gave me the other night and the one I gave her this afternoon. Secrets I plan to keep forever.

With a big smile on his face Efrain talks about how glad he is that Ari and me are friends, how excited he is to talk with her when he goes back to school and playing around in my house. I've also decided not to mention how much she doesn't like him.

"Ya'll sound like Vano and Bethy. Girls, girls, girls, i'm tired of it, so can we please finish watchin’ Lizard Sphere A", Abie snaps and rolls her eyes at us. Efrain and I laugh but neither pays attention to the animated show, instead he shows me all the drawings he's drawn while in bed rest.

While he shows me some really cool ones of me and him being space men and Abie choking in the background, I can't help but to stare at him the same way I did to Ari earlier. Last I saw him, Efrain's wasn’t this skinny. He practically resembles Ari, whom he used to be a little bigger-than. He's also a lot more pale and sickly like his momma. His eyes are sunken and his cheekbones stick out. He looks like he's at the verge of death with only a smile keeping him alive.

"Y'all come eat", Jocabeth says at the door. She leans in with a bored look on her face, like nothing is cool enough for her. For a split second, I wish I was her. I stare at my light orange dress, my frilly, itchy socks and white, shiny belted shoes. I pull on a curl that already rests on my hand, how I wish I were as comfortable as her. In the living room, I stare at her nonstop taking in her personality. Everyone laughs at everything she says, eating a piece of cooked lettuce from her soup with her hands, burping as loud as she wants, joking and laughing so care free. If I ever ate with my hands and burped that loud i'd be in trouble. I wish I was funny too.

While we all enjoy momma Bilmin’s cooking, the adults talk amongst themselves, they mention the cost of living and how the president doesn't care about us. This catches my attention.

"Some bloke started a union a few months ago, found'em dead in a ditch and a lot of folk got fired. They ain't waste a second though, next day the factory was full of new workers", Eddy says. He looks irritated and waves his arms with annoyance.

"It's like we brought bad luck or some", Jenae ways touching her forehead. She looks upset.

"Naw auntie, there was rumors 'bout this from the start. I'm just worried 'bout findin' another job", Eddy says thoughtful.

"I'm in need of some hands", daddy speaks up with a shrug, "c'mon Asmel, I've told you this", daddy turns to Mr Oxoro.

The conversation goes on and on until everyone agrees that Eddy and Vano start working for daddy from now on. Apparently Mr Oxoro's sister and family were kicked out of their home from a shark? Now they live here and will be staying until they get the money to move out. Daddy invites Mr Otto to work in our ranch too but he jokes that he's one of the new workers in the meat factory. Mrs Jenae claims she cares for Mrs Oxoro and the kids. In a way, it makes me happy to hear someone is here to care for my best friend.

After dinner we all sit in front of the television. Blowing a bubble with her gum, Jocabeth puts a movie in the VCR. "A classic", Mr Oxoro says hugging his wife who's wheelchair has been rolled right next to him. On her lap sits Efrain snuggling with her arm and next to momma Bilmin, I hold her hand and watch, occasionally turning my gaze out the window. There Felix, Eddy, Omarion, Vano and Jocabeth joke about. I wish I was old enough to hang out with them.

The movie starts off in a dessert, how humanity has decayed and withered except for a couple of people living like ferals. They fight for food and water, some even fight for money. Those wanting to be rich steal from those already poor and hungry, "not far from the truth", Mr Oxoro says. Just as I fully invest myself into the movie my thumb reminds me of all the times I bumped my hand on to something. I try to keep the pain to myself but its not until I can't ignore it that I speak up. Daddy uses this as an excuse to go home, says my pain medication has worn off and he forgot it. Jenae, who's been eyeing daddy all night is the first to hug us goodbye. She bumps into my hand. I'd shriek, drop and die but I don't want the older kids to think i'm a wuss. Instead I hold on to the tears in until we leave the apartment.

On the way home I silently cry so much I fall asleep only to wake up when I feel my hand hit the bed. Daddy's carried me inside, taken off my socks and gives me kiss before he leaves. I don't know for how long I sleep until I'm woken up again.

The lights in my room are turned on, I shut my eyes tight and cover my face with my arm. Someone slaps my hand off my face, forcing me to look at them.

"What is this I hear bout you kissin' girls?", momma snaps at me. "That. Is. Disgusting. You hear me? Where have you seen women kissin' other women?" She raises her voice angrily. Momma Bilmin, woken up, comes out her room and into mines. Momma explains to her how I kissed Ari on the lips just this afternoon. She says it grossed out as if I had stepped on poop and got in bed.

"She ain't hurtin' nobody!", momma Bilmin snaps at momma. Daddy walks in my room too, he stands in between them just as momma Bilmin tries to get in momma’s face. My warm tears quietly roll down my face just like they did on the way home, only now the pain is in my chest. I've never made momma this mad before. She ain't ever yell at me this loud either.

"No, no, no!", momma yells pushing daddy’s arm away and turns to me. "I don't wanna see that little red head in my house ever again, you hear me?" She connects her thumbs with her index fingers, making her point. "I don't wanna see or hear bout you kissin' girls, Dora! When? Where has she seen any of this? Sure as hell not from me!", she screams and walks out the room still scolding me from the hallway. Daddy shoots me a look of worry and goes after momma. The rest of the night I sleep in momma Bilmin's room. She combs my hair with her fingers, sings a lullaby and assures me there's nothing wrong with liking who I like. Still, I cry until I've fallen back asleep with only one thought in mind. Liking girls is not normal, it's gross. Momma said so.

#isadora wyetka #efrain #mr Oxoro #mrs oxoro #Jocabeth #Abie #Vano #Eduardo #Felix #Omarion #Otto #Jenae #age 10 #the hunger games imagine #lgbtq #esperanza wyetka

5 notes · View notes

banditchika · 6 years

Text

ran’s emo hours? always

fandom: bandori

ship: ranmoca

words: 2796

ao3 link

author’s note: based off of this au!!

"Oh," Tsugu says, and the smile freezes on her sweet face. "You mean you're not... going?"

"No." Ran picks at her cuticles. Anything to avoid the crashing disappointment in Tsugu's eyes.

Moca sighs noisily and plants her elbows on the table, a solid, heavy weight by Ran's side. "There's no such thing as major for bread consumption, so Moca-chan might as well not bother, y'know~?"

"The university offers home ec though! And design!" Himari's voice is a little wheedling, a little frantic. "You like design, Moca!"

"But I like an easy-going life even more..."

"And Ran, right?" Tomoe's voice is mild but her gaze is sharp. She's always been better about cutting through Ran's bullshit than Himari or Tsugu. The five of them like this, sitting two and three in the booth's seats? It couldn't be more obvious what's going on here, but Tomoe smiles anyways, warm and sincere. "Hey, I get it though. Uni isn't for everyone—that's why I'm takin' a gap year, to be sure."

"Yeah. To be sure." Ran doesn't mention that she'll probably never be sure.

She doesn't want to be that person—so-and-so's good-for-nothing daughter, who rocketed through college in a whirlwind of mediocrity only to lock herself up in her room the second the certificate of graduation passed into her hands. Half-assing her way through a major she doesn't care about, fighting for a job that she knows she's going to hate, then feeling bad about not getting what she wanted when she hadn't really been trying anyways; who the hell would want to resign themselves to a lifetime of that?

Irresponsible, Dad calls her. Free-spirited, Tsugu would probably say. Ran knows the truth. Her itchy feet and restlessness are a symptom of fear, and no amount of excuses or slammed doors is going to change the fact that Ran is nothing but a born coward, doing everything she can to pretend otherwise.

"Well, that's fine! No matter what you do, we'll be behind you no matter what!" Tsugu brings her fists up beneath her chin. It's an expression of conviction; has been, probably always will be. But right now, with her eyes too-bright and a faint tremble in fists, she just looks like she's trying to convince herself and failing miserably. "Even if we're not together, we can still make time to see each other! I plan to come home a lot to help out, so..."

Tsugu's eyes are shining with an earnest hope, but she has to know—no, she does know. They've already tried this before. Without Afterglow, the five of them might have fallen apart; broken up into their own little cliques without time and proximity and shared interests to keep them glued together. Moca and Ran, Himari and Tomoe, and then Tsugu—everyone's cherished friend, but no one's special somebody.

(It feels so cruel to even think that, even if—even if it's probably true. You can love someone perfectly well and still not be able to talk to them. Tsugu's so honest; so eager to please. Ran's words shrivel up on her tongue in the face of that candor. Someone like Moca; someone tricky and shifty and despite it all, patiently understanding—that's the kind of person that can draw Ran out of her shell.

That kind of person, or maybe just Moca.)

Tears are starting to streak down Himari's cheeks. Tomoe yelps and blots her face with napkins.

"You guuuuys," Himari wails, and obligingly blows her nose into the damp tissue Tomoe holds out for her. Tomoe grimaces and tosses it in a soggy heap on top of her empty plate. "I'm gonna miss you so much... but we'll always have the group chat! Promise me you'll check in every day! Ran, you have to reply to my messages! Don't leave me on read!"

"I won't."

"You'd better not be saying that to get me off your back! I'll call you every night at 3 a.m. if you don't answer for more than a week—no, five days!"

"I'm pretty sure that's one way to guarantee Ran'll never call you back, babe," Tomoe laughs, stretching an arm behind Himari's shoulders.

"Then I'll visit her myself. Ran's dad will let me in, you know he will!"

Ran flinches. They all notice, of course; Himari's tears cease like someone's turned off a faucet inside her. Tomoe frowns. Tsugu shrinks in on herself like she's waiting for a blow to come.

Moca steals the last fry from Ran's plate. "So, about that..."

“So this is gonna be your new place?” Tomoe asks. She turns slowly on her heels, taking it all in. Ran knows it’s not impressive. If she’s being honest, when she and Moca first scoped this place out—she thought it was a real shithole. Cracked tile, peeling wallpaper, and water that refuses to stay hot for more than a minute, but it’s far enough from Ran’s house that her family would probably never bother, and more importantly, it’s cheap.

Desperate girls can’t afford to be picky, so Ran shrugs noncommittally and drops a box filled with kitchenware onto the counter.

“Hii-chan, you can put the fridge in the corner~”

“Okay! Leave it to me!” Himari’s all but disappeared behind the mini-fridge in her arms, but it’s nothing compared to her muscles. She shoulders into the apartment and sets it down with a clatter and a gusty sigh. Tomoe stares at her, betrayed.

“Himari! You were supposed to let me know when you were bringing that up!”

“Nuh uh!” Himari flexes, cradling the ball of her bicep in one hand. “If you want to stand around chatting with the married couple, then Tsugu and I are just gonna move everything ourselves.”

“I’ve been helping,” Ran complains. She cuts open the top of the kitchenware box before realizing that she hasn’t actually cleaned out the moldy cabinets yet. Fuck.

“Me too,” Moca says from where she’s sprawled out on the futon. It was the first thing they brought in and she hasn’t moved from it in the hour they’ve been unpacking. She grins foolishly at Ran’s glare and sticks her bare leg up in the air, one worn out sock dangling from the very tips of her toes. “I’ve been controlling Hii-chan with my mind.”

“It’s true,” Himari says very helpfully. She digs her fingers into her temples. “And right now she’s telling me to go grab… the cleaning supplies!”

“Yep. That’s exactly right.”

“So she can clean the mold out of the toilet,” Himari continues, “because she knows her good friend, her best friend Uehara Himari just had a large latte and needs to pee!”

Moca gestures at the empty cup on the counter. “And Moca-chan says that if Hii-chan needs to go, she can just recycle~”

“You’re disgusting,” Tomoe says cheerfully. She loops an arm around Himari’s waist. “C’mon, babe. I’m hungry and Tsugu’s still with the car. Maybe she’ll drive us to get burgers if we ask nicely.”

Himari lights up. “You’re a genius.” She presses a great, smacking kiss on Tomoe’s cheek. “Tsugu, we’re coming for you!”

And before Ran can so much as blink, Himari drags Tomoe out the door, leaving her alone with Moca and the echoes of Himari’s voice ringing in the living room.

Moca shoves her hand into her hoodie pocket. “I’ll text Tomo-chin to get us our usual order.”

“No thanks.” Ran reaches into the box of kitchenware and starts dividing it into plates, bowls, cups, chopsticks. It doesn’t take too long. Anything more than three of each would just be vanity, and with their cooking skills, more than one or two pots and pans would be a waste of precious space. "We said we'd budget, remember?"

“Aw, don’t be like that, Ran. We don’t even have groceries yet,” Moca says. She props her head up on her chin. “Let Moca-chan have her last taste of good bread before she goes on an instant ramen diet.”

Ran hesitates. “But…”

“We can get the kids’ meal,” Moca prods. “If Hii-chan picks up Tsugu and swaddles her in Tomo-chin’s jacket, they can probably pass her off as like, six.”

Ran snorts. Nothing short of a national disaster could rob Tsugu of her rosy cheeks and cherub face, but even she would have a hard time passing herself off as a child. "You get the kid's meal. I don't want it."

Moca drops her phone on her chest with a dull clunk of flesh, bone, and plastic that Ran swears she feels in her own sternum. Her eyes slide shut, as though that one text has drained her of every drop of energy in her body and nothing short of a flash sale at Yamabuki could rouse her. “Y’know, Ran.”

“What?”

“This might be the last meal we can have together for a while. Ran doesn’t wanna send ‘em off just yet, right?” Moca rolls over on her stomach. Her voice is soft and ponderous when she says, “To be honest, Moca-chan doesn’t want to either.”

“Moca…” She swallows past the lump in her throat, and what was once a comforting silence now seems sour, weighing heavy on her shoulders.

Sometimes Ran wishes her loved ones could be less kind, less understanding. If they weren’t kind, then she’d have a justification for being angry. If they weren’t kind, then Ran’s fear and fury would have somewhere righteous to go instead of churning in a writhing knot inside her chest, jolting her awake in the middle of the night and soaking her pillow with hot, helpless tears.

But they are, and Ran drowns in it. She can’t help but feel as though their time is wasted on her when she’s going nowhere, doing nothing but spiraling somewhere dark and deep, running as far away from their open arms as she can.

What the hell is she supposed to do with herself? It hurts when people are cruel and it hurts when they’re kind. She can't exactly make a life out of running away from everything that scares her when everything scares her. And then there’s Moca, staring at her with gentle eyes. Moca, who she’s dragged all the way out to the middle of nowhere, far from everything familiar and everyone they love.

Moca can do anything she puts her mind to. She could have gone to Todai like her mother did, and with her grades? God, Moca could have made it. Moca could have gone anywhere, and she chose Ran. She’s always chosen Ran.

That devotion scares her. She doesn’t know what to do with it. She doesn’t know what she’d do without it.

Ran’s lip wobbles. God, what the hell. What the hell. She’s standing in the middle of her stupid mildew-covered kitchen and crying because she caught feelings about her girlfriend while talking about burgers. It's the worst. She's the worst.

“Ran?” Moca clambers to her feet. She cups Ran’s cheeks. “Hey…”

Hey yourself, Ran wants to say, and ends up making a noise like the time they were at the beach and Himari served a ball right into Tomoe’s gut. Moca dabs at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie and stays mercifully silent, guiding Ran’s head to the crook of her neck.

“Hey,” Moca says when Ran’s choked sobs subside. She presses a kiss to the side of her head, scraping her dry lips over the tip of Ran’s ear. “C'mon. Save the tears for when I propose." Her arms wind tight around Ran's waist, like in spite of everything Ran's made her give up, she can't bear to lose Ran just as much as Ran can't stand to be without her. "Everything will be alright, you’ll see. Moca-chan will let you have her Happy Ranger toy.”

Ran snorts despite herself. “I don’t—don’t want it.”

“Well, you’re going to get it. I’ll leave it between us on the futon.”

“Don’t.”

“I will,” Moca swears. “It’ll be our pet.”

“I’m allergic.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Happy Rangers don’t have fur, right?” Moca says, and when Ran’s shuddering sigh transforms into a weak laugh, gropes her ass.

"See? Not so bad."

"There was literally a wasp nest over our doorway."

"And neither of us got stung. So not too bad, right~?"

"We have to call the landlord tomorrow," Ran says, tugging her shirt over her head. Cold, calloused fingers trace the knobs of her spine, then wrap around the strap of her sports bra.

Moca pulls it back and snaps it against her skin. "Don't worry, Ran. Moca-chan will protect you."

"From wasps?"

"I'll open my mouth and swallow them all."

"I'd never kiss you again."

"How I suffer for your safety," Moca says. She presses her dry, cracked lips to Ran's shoulder. "You can also hide under my hoodie."

Ran peels off her jeans—a task made all the harder by Moca clinging to her back like a parka-clad koala. "How's that supposed to help me?"

"Moca-chan got stung by wasps once, remember~? She's immune now."

"Immune to being stung?"

"Don't you trust me?" Moca finally steps away to watch Ran pull on her sleep shorts. "Wasps can't sting through jackets, right?"

"If you're not sure, I'm not going along with it." She snatches a tank top off of their rumpled futon. It's Moca's and hasn't been washed in a couple of days, but they don't have enough clean clothes between them to be picky.

"Aw, and here Moca-chan thought you might wanna be cradled against her chest." Moca strips and collapses onto the futon in her underclothes. She holds her arms open. "C'mere Ran~"

Ran pointedly lies down beside her. Moca, never to be deterred, wraps her arms and legs around her anyways. Her skin is clammy from sweat, and the two of them stick together, uncomfortably warm but for the places that Moca's icicle hands and feet touch.

Her heartbeat is strong and steady against Ran's back. Her breathing is noisy in her ear.

"Hey," Moca whispers, pressing her cold feet against the back of Ran's calves. "Y'know, people usually plan to get married when they elope."

"Have we eloped?" Moca's fingers trace patterns against her stomach. Ran grabs her hands because—damn it, Moca knows she's ticklish!

(And if she laces their fingers together too, well. That's just the best way to stop Moca from trying anything funny.)

"Lessee... left our friends, family and everyone we know behind," Moca mumbles. She presses a sloppy kiss to the back of Ran's neck. "Got a shitty apartment together." Another kiss. "Livin' off instant ramen and sandwich bread. Also together."

She nips at Ran's nape. "And you're definitely Moca-chan's lover, unless the girl at the konbini actually calls me, so. Definitely eloping, right~?"

Ran flushes. Moca trails her lips over her jaw, up to the shell of her ear. "I-is that what you want? We can't afford a ring right now, you know that."

Moca hums and peels away from her. Ran sits up and gets an eyeful of Moca's ass and washed-out underwear as she crawls around their cramped futon.

"What are you doing?" Ran asks. Moca gropes under their covers and pulls out a cracked ballpoint pen.

"Raaaaan," she whines, wriggling her fingers insistently. Ran squints, then relents and puts her hands in hers.

"Hey, that tickles."

"Hold still, this is importaaant~"

Moca's pen traces wobbly blue lines over the ring finger of Ran's left hand. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth as she draws. Sitting there in their shitty, run-down apartment and worn-through futon, sweating hard because they can't afford to turn on the air con; Ran doesn't think she's ever been more in love.

They still have to get jobs. The money they've saved from their share of Afterglow's ticket and album sales will run dry before summer's through, and even Moca's magical couponing skills can't fill their mini fridge when their food budget is two thousand five hundred yen a week.

But right now, as Ran plucks the pen from Moca's grasp and gets to drawing her own wobbly ring around Moca's finger, those concerns seem unreal, almost faraway.

This is their time, their space. Their problems aren’t going away anytime soon; neither are Ran’s doubts. Their friends and family are a city and three train stations away. Next month will mark a year since the last time Ran touched her guitar. She’s pretty sure Moca is two ramen packets away from jaundice.

But they have each other. They have each other, and if the soft smile on Moca’s face as she stares down at their laced fingers is any indication, they’ll always have each other.

Ran makes a point of not letting Moca see her blush as she leans down to kiss Moca’s knuckles.

They’ll make it work somehow. Same as always.

#bandori #ranmoca #aoba moca #mitake ran #mocaran #peents writes #god this au is so good. its so delicious. please check it out #i love ranmoca n they're so fun to write.... we r aglow stans before we are people.

64 notes · View notes

moonyxnights · 7 years

Text

Bill’s Book || Bill Denbrough

Request: jungkooksbowlingskills- “Could you do 9 and 49 with bill denbrough? 💕”

49: “I don’t wanna screw this up”

9: “You’re in love with her.”

Summary: Bill has trouble expressing his feelings for (Y/N), and Eddie can see him struggling. Whilst (Y/N) talks to Beverly about her feelings for Bill.

A/N: so I kinda used my feelings for someone who I proper like who looks so much like Jaeden so it kinda helped with this, so I hope you’s enjoy it bc this is basically the situation im in rnnnn lol help. I also wrote this while listening to Appalachian Moon by Kevin Reilly (bc Charlie Heaton in As You Are) on repeat to get that feeling you knowwww, so I suggest listening to it whilst reading if you can. (I also wanna do a lil story of Bev x reader, so I guess let me know your thoughts on that bc I have an idea and it’d be helloooooo emotional- and based off of ‘as you are’)

Bill had never been so unsure, confused and scared of something so much in his life. He was unsure of his feelings, confused as to why he couldn’t pinpoint how he felt and scared that she would disappear. Ever since Georgie, Bill had trouble getting close to someone, too terrified of them getting hurt and leaving him. He was a very quiet person; he didn’t want the rest of the group to know about these uncertain feelings he had: the first secret he’d ever kept from them all. But if one thing helped him the most, it was that she was the same: terrified however, she was pretty certain of her feelings towards him. It had taken her a while to adjust to the new feeling of liking someone, but she soon came to the realisation that, yes, she completely adored him. Yet, neither one knew about the other.

“How ya doing Bill,” she smiled, nudging him lightly as she sat beside him on the wide library steps. He smiled in return, but couldn’t seem to get any words out, and so he just decided to nod. “What are the plans for today, then?” she watched as everyone discussed about the layout of the day, but gradually she zoned out. Voices becoming background noise to the shuffles of Bill beside her, of his flu sniffles and his nervous breathing. She turned to him, seeing that he was already slightly looking at her too, before the two quickly looked away from each other.

“Were either of you, shits, actually listening?” Richie asked, suddenly bringing her focus back to them. She looked up and nodded, before looking down to her feet, the points of them facing inwards to each other. “Liars,” he shouted in a British accent, causing everyone to roll their eyes.

“Shut up, Itchie,” she joked, standing up and flicking his forehead, causing a small laugh to escape Bill’s mouth. This made her turn round sharply to look at him, but he just closed his book and stood too, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“W-we should g-g-get going t-t-t-t,” he tried to get the words out but they didn’t seem to want to. Richie laughed to himself and she shoved him lightly.

“Seriously, Rich, shut up,” she said. “Bill, take your time,” she nodded towards him but he just shrugged.

“I-it doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, which led the group to look at each other. They didn’t understand why Bill had been acting this way for the past week, but Eddie had his suspicions. He knew Bill too well, knowing that certain behaviours of his meant something deeper. Eddie looked at him as he walked away, chasing to catch up to him. Bill turned to his side at him, saw Eddie’s concerned face. “It d-d-doesn’t matter,” he repeated reassuringly but Eddie wasn’t convinced.

Beverly and (Y/N) were sat on (Y/N)’s roof, the sunset gradually coming to an end. “Do you know what’s up with Bill, lately?” she asked but Beverly shook her head. (Y/N) sighed, looking out to the sky, knees close to her chest as paranoia and sorrow formed. “I’m worried about him, Bev.”

Beverly looked over to her, a weak smile held limply on her face. “We all are,” she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. For the rest of the day earlier, Bill had kept his distance and tried to speak as little as possible. “What about you?” she asked, looking to (Y/N) softly, “Are you okay?” Beverly had been seeing the way that she looked at Bill for the past month, an ache in her chest of empathy.

(Y/N) just shrugged, “I don’t even know anymore,” she spoke quietly, biting the inside of her lip. She stayed staring out towards the sky, absent-mindedly. “Like my whole focus has been on making sure Bill’s okay, you know, because of everything with Georgie, so much that I forgot to take shit seriously for myself,” Beverly listened intently as she vented. “But lately he’s been so dismissive with me over the littlest of things,” she quickly turned her body to face Beverly. “Have I done something? Is there something I should’ve picked up on, like what- what am I meant to do?” she ran her hands through her hair, frustrated and upset.

Beverly placed her hands on her forearms as they rested on her head, “(Y/N) you haven’t done anything,” she reassured her, looking her directly in the eyes. “It’s probably just Georgie,” she took her hands away and (Y/N) lowered her arms. The two looked at each other softly before they both turned to look at in front of them again.

They stayed in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of cars and birds in the distance. They could hear her neighbours playing music loudly, clearly drowning out the noise of a family argument. They could see lights in the far houses gradually dimming to black, almost as if they played a Mexican wave of turning off lights.

“Bev,” she said, barely above a whisper, wanting to keep the secret to her ears only. Beverly hummed, indicating for her to proceed. “I think I like Bill,” Beverly’s heart stopped for a mere second, she had always had the thought that she did.

“At least you finally admitted it to someone,” she laughed lightly, an elegant sound through the night. “What are you going to do about it?” she asked, not wanting to make any eye contact.

“I don’t know,” she breathed out, laying down on her back, hands underneath her head for comfort. Beverly turned to her this time and rested on her elbow beside her. “What do you do in this situation?” Beverly stayed quiet and just shrugged in reply.

“Maybe just tell him,” she suggested.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” (Y/N) took a slow blink, sighing louder than she had before. “I don’t want to ruin the group, it’s the only place I’ve felt comfortable.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Beverly sat up, as did (Y/N). Beverly held her legs close to her whilst (Y/N) had her legs out in front of her, she rested her head on Beverly’s shoulder. “This whole thing is up to you.”

Eddie followed Bill that evening, determined to find out why Bill was acting the way he was. Bill had spent the journey continuously telling Eddie to go home, but Eddie stayed put beside him. When they reached Bill’s house, the two sat on his steps together. Bill had finally given up with crying alone in his room, and whilst he stared towards the road that Georgie had followed, his lip began to quiver. Eddie placed an arm around his shoulder, rubbing his back as he did so, and let Bill sob without pestering.

Bill sat up from his hunched position, wiped his eyes with his palms before Eddie passed him a tissue from his fanny-pack. He looked at his friend, his chest aching with empathy as much as Beverly’s did for (Y/N). “I’m s-sorry,” Bill muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Eddie spoke quickly, crushed that Bill felt the need to apologise. “Don’t ever be sorry for crying, Bill, you’re allowed to grieve,” he removed his hand from Bill’s back and placed it on his lap. Bill sniffled and mumbled something that Eddie couldn’t make out. “I’m sorry for following you home but you know I’m worried about you, we all are.”

“I’m f-f-fine,” he managed to get out. Eddie sighed and shook his head, “What?” Bill asked, confused at Eddie’s reaction.

“You’ve been different,” he said. “And that’s not just because of Georgie, is it, Bill?” he raised his eyebrows, knowing full well there was more of an underlying issue. Bill shook his head. “Thank you, now, you’re going to talk about it with me,” he spoke with a firm insistence.

“Ed-d-die,” he spoke quietly, looking to floor away from him. “I don’t th-think I c-c-can,” he shook his leg nervously.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, concerned and worried for Bill. “How bad is it, Bill?” Bill stayed quiet, fiddling with thumbs. He didn’t know if he should tell Eddie or just lie, but he wanted to tell someone. He wanted to tell someone what he was afraid but that only made him more afraid of losing his friends. “Bill?” Eddie’s voice was muffled behind Bill’s paranoid thoughts.

“I,” He stopped himself from speaking, he tapped his book before passing it to Eddie. At first Eddie was confused, but when Bill nodded towards he realised that the answer was held within the book. He looked at Bill, making sure he had 100% permission, and then looked down. He carefully opened the book to find drawings of Georgie at first, then to some small stories he’d written, next few pages of the Losers Club, until finally he came to the pages in which she covered. Her face, drawn perfectly and painted perfectly, covered them: laughing, crying, side views, almost everything.

“You’re in love with her,” Eddie whispered, mostly to himself but enough to let Bill hear him. “Bill, these are amazing.”

Bill took the book back gently, closing it and rested it on his lap again. “I don’t know h-how I f-f-feel, Eds.”

“Yes you do,” he said plainly. “You’re just scared, which is understandable but at least tell her. Let her know, Bill, let her see those,” Bill shook his head. “Bill.”

“I don’t th-think it’s the s-s-same thing for her,” he muttered and Eddie laughed lightly, causing him to look up at him.

“You’re joking, right? Have you seen the way she looks at you, looks after you and acts around you?” Eddie stood up, energy fuelled and excited. “Tell her, Bill, trust me.”

Beverly had made (Y/N) think for the remainder of the night and for the week after. Eddie had made Bill contemplate his feelings and contemplate admitting them to her throughout the week, also. None of the others in the group had even noticed the difference in atmosphere when the two were near, as well as having Eddie and Beverly knowing.

(Y/N) had woken up one morning with the instant need to tell him; the feeling had been brewing through her sleep and as soon as her eyes opened, she knew. She got up, earlier than usual, and got dressed into her jeans, large knitted jumper and quickly took a piece of toast from the middle plate from the middle of the dining table. She sat at the bottom of the stairs and put on her worn out converse, stumbling slightly as she stood up and finished tying the second shoe. She opened the front door, breathed nervously and then closed the door behind her, finding her way towards Bill’s house.

Bill had done the same, woken up with this sudden desire to tell her how he felt. His feelings had become a lot more certain after his discussion with Eddie and his contemplation week. He woke up and took a second as he looked at Georgie’s door, instantly becoming overwhelmed by his fears of loss. He walked passed the door and let them float away from his mind, now confident with his decision. He got dressed, green Tracker Bros. shirt and half-length jeans already laid out for him to wear. He grabbed his book and shoved it into his rucksack; made his way downstairs and to the front door. He breathed nervously, a small hint of him filled with doubt and regret, and then opened the door, walking outside.

“C’mon, (Y/N), keep it together,” she spoke to herself, rubbing her clammy hands together to lessen the sweat. She walked fast and was unsure if she was shivering because of nerves or the because of the breeze. She went over the specific words she wanted to say in her head, constantly shaking her head and mentally changing them.

“B-Bill,” he muttered. “You’re ok-kay, y-you can d-d-do this,” he tripped slightly on his way, looking around him to see if anyone had noticed. He, too, went over his exact words, more so his actions of giving her the book and his explanation of each drawing of her. Then he thought, what if she finds it weird? He shook his head, in attempts to get the thought to leave his head and then he stopped in his tracks.

She looked up and came to an abrupt halt, staring at the boy in front of her. “Hi,” they said at the same time. They both blushed and laughed, looking away from each other anxiously and then back to each other. “I was just coming to see you,” she said.

“S-s-so was I,” he smiled. “I mean, I-I was c-c-coming to s-see you,” he corrected, scrunching his face in embarrassment and regret. “S-sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be,” she smiled warmly towards him, the two still standing opposite each other. “I wanted to tell you something, Bill,” he opened his eyes and looked at her, hope written across his face.

“I have something to give you,” he trailed, slightly unsure if he should go ahead with the idea.

“I like you, Bill,” she spoke fast, desperate to get the feelings out in the open. He froze. “I think I love you.” His eyes widened and he couldn’t get any words out, all he could was smile. He then quickly rummaged, holding a finger to her as he did, for the book.

He passed her the book and nodded for her to open it, she gave the same look to him as Eddie did, making sure she was allowed to and making sure he was okay with it. He waved for her to open it and she turned the pages, seeing all of the things that Eddie had seen. Her eyes scanned the pages, she trailed her fingers across the paintings and drawings.

“Bill,” she whispered, amazement and adoration filling her eyes in the form of tears. “Bill, these are… these are incredible,” she looked up to him, seeing his smile wider and he looked a lot more at ease. He didn’t look as stressed, dismissive or scared.

“I’m in l-love w-w-with you,” he said. “I wasn’t sure a-at f-first, I w-was s-scared because of G-G-Georgie,” he struggled with his brother’s name so she placed her hand on his upper arm for comfort. “Then E-Eddie t-told me I did,” she laughed lightly.

“Eddie told you that you loved me?” he nodded. “That’s really sweet,” she smiled. The two shared a look before she leant forward and kissed his cheek, a lingering and caring type of kiss, to allow him to take the moment in, and to allow him to know she wasn’t going to leave him.

696 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

Text

Star Force: A Guide To Rumplurians - Part Two of... Who Knows!

Part One, exploring the Rumplurian religion, can be found here

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

====

Rumplurians are a fictional race of aliens found in a fictional TV show, Star Force, as mentioned in my rumbelle fic Friendships and Fandoms, an AU in which the various Once Upon A Time characters were the cast and crew of this fictional TV show. Gold played the Rumplurian chief medical officer, Dr Stiltskin, and Belle was his make-up artist (and also stood in as Stiltskin’s human wife, Lacey, when the actress due to play her had to pull out).

Friendships and Fandoms can be read here and @licieoic and I also wrote a few Star Force screenplays which can be read here.

====

You can all blame @woodelf68 and @ripperblackstaff for this. Thanks to them, I spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about alien anatomy and reproduction and now, well, this happened.

I need to thank @hedwighood and licieoic for some of the headcanons herein. Licie, I dunno, this might be useful for future Star Force episodes?

Anyway...

Are you all excited to learn more about scaly alien dicks?

I’m gonna take that as a solid yes! Without further ado let’s begin our second lesson in Rumplurians... anatomy and reproduction! As you’ve probably guessed, this post is not safe for work!

Disclaimer: Before we begin I’d like to remind you that this is all completely made up. No similarity to any actual aliens (or any aliens from other franchises like Star Trek etc) is intended.

I’d really love to illustrate this essay with some naked Rumplurians but

a) I’m bad at drawing

b) I’m even worse at drawing scaly alien dicks

c) I don’t have a scanner to upload said terrible pictures of scaly alien dicks

So you’re going to have to settle for some suggestive gifs and using your imaginations.

*puts on David Attenborough documentary style voice*

To all intents and purposes, the Rumplurian doesn’t look all that different to the human, with the exception of the scales. When you look a little bit closer however...

(I’m sorry I’m having way too much fun with this.)

Rumplurians are scaled all over. Yes, all over. They have no body hair, apart from that on their heads. (And eyebrows, because no eyebrows just looks... weird. We’re not quite sure where the eyebrows and head hair came from, but we think it’s the result of intermarriage with hairy races earlier on in the evolution chain.)

Their scales are not the same texture all over. The scales are generally smooth but will give a slightly rougher texture if rubbed in the wrong direction, with much smoother scales on the palms and soles (necessary for grip) and genitalia (necessary for enjoyable sexual encounters).

Like a lot of scaled creatures, Rumplurians do shed, generally once a year. They don’t shed their skin all at once like snakes, that would just be creepy.

[Sheesh, I now have visions of Stiltskin shedding his skin on board Aurora while they were stranded and hiding it somewhere for Hook to find and freak out. Onwards because that’s just gross!]

The scales flake off individually, usually a good scrub in the shower with a loofah will get them all off. Their scales get greyer when they’re about to shed and are very itchy, so most Rumplurians like to slough off the shedding scales as quickly as possible. The new scales beneath are very sensitive for the first day after shedding. On the Rumplurian homeworld, it was perfectly acceptable to take sick days when shedding.

Lacey particularly enjoys having fun with Stiltskin when he’s shedding. Many a happy shower has been shared.

Rumplurian skin is tougher than human skin and it takes slightly more force to puncture it; they tend to heal from scrapes and abrasions slightly quicker. Likewise, Rumplurian finger and toenails are much harder and more claw like. They’re fast-growing and naturally grow into points, and need regular filing, but they don’t like paring them right down like humans do their fingernails because the claws are a part of them and due to the way the nerves work, it can be painful to cut them too short. Mostly they file the tips to make sure they’re not sharp.

(As has been mentioned in previous Star Force smut fics, Stiltskin keeps his index and middle claws clipped short. This is both for practicality and hygiene when performing complex operations and for Lacey, whose soft human insidey bits would not enjoy being accidentally scratched, and whose soft human insidey bits he likes putting his fingers into...)

(No, Rumplurian women do not have scaly vaginas but their inner walls are a lot tougher.)

(I cannot believe I just wrote the phrase ‘scaly vaginas’. Twice.)

Ahem. Onwards!

Since we’ve already veered into incredibly not safe for work territory, let’s stay here in the gutter!

Rumplurians have long tongues (not like, chameleon long and prehensile, but longer than a human’s and more dexterous) and are very enthusiastic givers and receivers of oral sex.

They aren’t cold blooded, they don’t need to sit under heat lamps of a morning to get them going, but their internal thermostat is set lower than a human’s and they come from a very warm planet. If they get too cold, they get sluggish. Which is the opposite of most humans, who get lethargic when it’s too warm.

Lower core body temperature means... Yes, Licie, Stiltskin has internal balls. Rumplurian testes are kept in a kind of pouch inside the body, nice and protected from being kicked by... anything that might want to kick a Rumplurian dude in the nackers. However, the balls do drop down out of the pouch and hang down beneath the scaly alien dick in a human-like fashion (although they tend to be smaller than humans’ balls) when said Rumplurian is sufficiently aroused. The balls think “aha! time to make baby Rumplurians! let’s get to work, fellas!” and are very eager to get in on the action. So if you really want to successfully kick a Rumplurian in the nackers, wait till he has an erection first.

*Worry has to go and take a break before she dies of either embarrassment and laughter.*

YES! ONWARDS! LET’S GET TO THE END OF THIS ESSAY BEFORE I DIE OF SHAME!

Since we’ve got the lowdown on the downstairs bits, let’s move on to the act itself. Good grief, what am I writing here? *Worry takes a moment to question her life choices.*

Ahem.

As you all know from my Star Force smutty fics (they’re on my masterlist somewhere), Rumplurian Baby Making is not all that different to Human Baby Making. Don’t worry, we’ll get onto the actual babies in a minute. Woodelf mentioned refactory periods and I spent way too much time thinking about them, so I’m going to talk about them. If a Rumplurian guy keeps receiving stimuli after having an orgasm he can be ready to go again fairly quickly - quicker than a human. However, if there’s kissing and cuddling and getting breath back time afterwards and his balls draw back up inside, then it will take him longer to get ready to go again - longer than a human. Rumplurian balls need time to recharge, dammit!

And now for the Baby Making.

Rumplurian ladies don’t ovulate anywhere near as frequently as human women, generally only about twice or three times a year. They get super horny around this time because they don’t have as much opportunity for conception, but they don’t go mad, like animals in heat do.

They also don’t menstruate because their womb is constructed differently. If conception is successful, then they’ll start to build up a shell like substance around the baby that grows with it. A full-blood Rumplurian pregnancy lasts five months, the babies are much smaller than human babies when born. When it’s time for birth, the shell shatters and the baby is born in a pretty much human way, although covered in pieces of shell. The rest of the broken shell is delivered as afterbirth, like a human placenta.

Stiltskin can’t tell when Lacey ovulates, possibly because she doesn’t get as super horny as a Rumplurian lady would. He was amazed to find out that she does it once a month and to be frank he’s incredibly grateful for birth control methods.

Half-Rumplurian babies are different and depend on DNA, each case is different. They follow gestation and pregnancy patterns of the mother carrying them, so Stiltskin and Lacey’s babies grew and were delivered in a human way, but a Rumplurian lady carrying a baby sired by a human father would have a five month shell pregnancy.

Rumplurian ladies do breastfeed but their milk is very different to human breastmilk which can cause problems in mixed-race babies. Stiltskin and Lacey’s son Bae was fine with Lacey’s breast milk and it’s generally accepted that the human DNA in him is dominant. Their daughter Nim, however, rejected Lacey’s milk and also rejected Rumplurian formula. They tried a compromise whereby Lacey would express her milk and mix it with formula to create a mashup, but again that didn’t take and poor Lacey was frantic.

Their Rumplurian friend, Dr Morgana, came up with the solution of giving Lacey some Rumplurian hormone supplements, which did the trick, giving her milk just enough Rumplurian hormones for Nim to be happy with, and my word, once she was happy with it, she was a greedy little girl. Lacey was so relieved!

The supplements made Lacey’s skin very dry and itchy as a side effect (since they’re designed for people with scales), but it was worth it for Nim, and Stiltskin helped by rubbing cream in all over...

Right, I think I’ve exhausted my knowledge of Rumplurian Bits and Rumplurian Babies. If you have any questions, fire away! If you want to add your own headcanons, go ahead! If you want to write fic based on Star Force, feel free (just tag me in it because I wanna read it)!

If you think I should go away and think very hard about my life choices, don’t worry, I agree!

*Worry hits post and shakes her head*

#Star Force #woodelf68 #ripperblackstaff #Friendships and Fandoms #Alien Anatomy lessons #what the hell am I doing with my life?

32 notes · View notes