#i even have a version where he wears the undershirt under the dress shirt but its whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedritomosquito · 2 years ago

Text

Wardrobe Malfunction

Summary: Bella feels awful in her form-fitting costume. Pedro and Craig swoop in.

Pairing: No Pairings, just Pedro & Bella

Word count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Gender dysphoria, panic attack

A/N: Bella did an interview where she said that she wore a binder for 90% of filming and that Pedro was the biggest supporter of it. This fic is how I imagine that conversation went down.

This is an incredibly self-indulgent fic written with little to no skill lol. I thought my fellow trans/non-binary/gender queer friends might find some solace in it, so I decided to post it anyway.

Bella walked back from the wardrobe department completely numb.

In the previous episodes they’d shot, she always had multiple layers on. Usually an undershirt, a flannel, and a hoodie covered her frame, obscuring any details of her figure.

But now she was dressed in a snug long sleeve top.

She just nodded as they did the fitting, complacent with whatever choices they made. This was the outfit wardrobe wanted–what Craig and Neil wanted. She trusted them and letting them down wasn’t an option. She should really just get over it, despite the growing sickness pooling in her stomach.

She stood in her trailer, staring at her reflection, peering at herself from every angle. Her figure was soft and rounded in all the wrong places. She didn’t look like herself, her appearance too foreign. She was mismatched and her outside was incongruous with the rest of her. Everything was wrong. She couldn’t barely even explain what or why, but it was wrong . Maybe if she really slouched… No, that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough .

Her throat squeezed tight and she couldn’t bear it. The thought that this strange version of her was going to be permanently etched into television for everyone to see made her desperate. Without a single thought, she picked up a water bottle and chucked it at the mirror. The outburst didn’t supply any relief and she spun around, folding over herself like she could store her body away.

She wrapped her arms so tightly around her chest, she could hardly breathe. She dropped to the floor and let the sobs overtake her.

—----

Pedro checked his phone as he wandered over to Bella’s trailer to pick her up. They usually walked to set together and their lunch break was just about over. As he approached the door, he froze–there was crying coming from inside.

“Bella?!” He knocked on the door and got no response, just hearing more cries. “I’m coming in, honey!” He warned her. He’d bust down the door if he had to.

He swung the door open and stepped inside. He found her sitting in a heap on the floor, tears soaking her cheeks.

“Oh, Bellie,” He breathed. She finally looked up at him as he knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to explain herself. She just cried harder, leaning towards him.

He sat down and pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” He tried, “It’s okay.”

He didn’t know what could have made her that upset, but he can’t say he’s surprised. Bella was only nineteen years old and the stakes were unbelievably high for this project. The shooting schedule they had was brutal. He never could have handled the amount of stress she was under when he was nineteen.

He continued to reassure her, softly rubbing circles on her back. He waited until she had calmed down a bit before asking her to speak.

“What happened, Bella?” He asked gently.

“I feel wrong ,” She sobbed

Pedro’s frown deepened.

“What do you mean, honey?” He pulled away a bit to take a look at her, pushing back some stray hair that stuck to her tear tracks.

“I don’t feel like… myself… in this,” She replied, unlacing her arms and pulling at her shirt. “Millions of people are going to see me and I can’t–I just want my binder.” She hid her face against his shoulder, covering herself back up and letting more tears stream down her face.

“Bella,” He sighed, hugging her tight. “You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to.”

“But this is what they want, it’s what Craig and Neil want,” She replied defeatedly, “It’s my job to give them what they want.”

“You don’t owe anything to anyone if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable with yourself,” He said, “And I can guarantee you Craig and Neil would never want you to feel like this. Did you talk to them about it?”

“I don’t want to be difficult,” She said.

“You’re not being difficult, not at all. It’s a simple costume change, honey. They change our wardrobe a hundred times before choosing something anyway, you know that.” He assured her. “Is it okay if I talk to Craig?” He asked, “And then we can talk to him together?”

She picked her head up, giving him a wary look.

“I’m not going to let you leave this trailer until you’re wearing something that makes you feel like you. I’ll be the ‘difficult’ one, okay?”

“Okay,” She nodded.

“Why don’t we get you on the couch?” He offered.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I ended up on the floor,” She apologized sheepishly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” He replied, “Being on the hard floor is actually a great way to soothe your nervous system, sort of like a weighted blanket. You did it instinctually.” He explained as he helped her to her feet and guided her to sit on the sofa.

“How the hell do you know this stuff?”

“You overestimate my emotional stability, madam,” He joked, getting a giggle out of her. He got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders so she could finally release her arms. He grabbed the fallen water bottle and retrieved some tissues, placing them next to her.

“I’ll be right back,” He smoothed her hair and gave her a little smile before stepping outside.

He spotted one of the PA’s and called after her.

“Cindy!”

“Mr. Pascal, what can I do for you?” She asked, noting his serious expression.

“Can you let Craig know we need him in Bella’s trailer? It’s urgent.”

“Of course,” She replied. She pressed her walkie talkie. “Cindy to Matthew?”

“Go for Matthew,” a voice replied.

“I have Mr. Pascal here–he needs Mr. Maizin to Miss Ramsey’s trailer. It’s urgent.”

“Maizin to Ramsey’s trailer, got it,” The voice confirmed, “I’m getting him now.”

“Thank you so much, Cindy,” Pedro said.

“You’re welcome,” She replied, “I’ll make sure he gets here.”

Craig was a man on a mission when he was told Pedro and Bella were having some kind of emergency. It was less than two minutes before he was knocking on the trailer door.

“Pedro?” Craig called.

Pedro met him at the door and led him away, out of earshot of the trailer.

“You know what a chest binder is, right?” Pedro began.

Craig wasn’t sure what he expected this conversation to be about, but it definitely wasn’t this. Where was he going with this?

“Yes,” Craig replied.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Bella wore one with her wardrobe, would it?”

“No, of course not,” He replied, “They can wear it if they want.”

“The poor thing, I found them absolutely hysterical over it,” Pedro explained sadly.

“Oh god, I had no idea,” Craig sighed. “Absolutely they can wear it. Are they doing okay now?”

“Yeah, I got them calmed down,” Pedro said.

“Alright, let’s go have a chat,” Craig replied.

Bella’s eyes looked up as they entered. Craig took in the sight of her, curled up on the couch in a blanket, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, lip trembling.

“Aw kiddo,” He swept over to her and sat down, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side. “There is nothing to be sorry for. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable with your costumes. You can absolutely wear a binder, or we could rework the whole outfit if that would be better, whatever you need. I didn’t even think to ask you about it. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, I just… I panicked,” she replied quietly.

“This is a big deal–it’s a big deal to us,” He said, looking to Pedro too, “You being uncomfortable is a big deal. Your well-being is more important than anything, you hear me?”

She nodded.

“Do you have a binder with you?” Craig asked.

She nodded again.

“Okay. How about we break for a couple of hours, I want you to rest, alright?” He advised, “And then we can go to wardrobe together and get you fitted for some better costumes. That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” she said with relief.

“You know you can always, always talk to me or Neil or Pedro about this kind of stuff, right?” Craig asked. “If you’re upset or uncomfortable with anything or even if you’re just not sure about something—please talk to us. We want to help.”

Her eyes start to water again.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys?”

“In passing,” Craig joked.

“On occasion,” Pedro agreed.

Finally, they got a smile out of her.

“Change into anything you want and relax for a bit,” Craig said, “I’ll come by at three to check on you, alright?”

“Alright,” she replied, another small smile on her face.

Craig gave her shoulder a squeeze and a gentle playful tug on her ponytail.

“See you later,” he said as he departed.

“See you.”

“Where are your clothes baby girl?” He knew she would get a kick out of the nickname.

Bella gives a mock gasp.

“Oh my goodness, did I just get blessed with a ‘baby girl?!’” She asked. “I’ll pitch a fit over my dysphoria more often if it means I get the full Joel experience!”

“You’re too much,” Pedro laughed. “Clothes?” He asked again.

“Right, they’re in my bag,” She pointed at the blue duffle in the corner.

He handed it over to her and he sat down facing away from her so she could change.

“Okay,” She announced when she was finished.

“Better?” He asked, turning around to look at her.

“Better,” she dropped back down onto the couch.

“You look wiped, honey. What do you think, do you want to take a nap?” He offered.

“Mhm,” she nodded, getting comfortable and pulling the blanket back over herself.

“Get some rest,” He said, getting up to leave.

“Stay?” She interrupted.

“Of course,” He smiled.

#pedro pascal #bella ramsey #actor rpf #fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

15 notes · View notes

outerbankies · 3 years ago

Note

LITTLE BLURB YES PLS!

only since you said please!

(disclaimer: this takes place during part 5 but in this version they went to topper’s, not griffin’s after midsummers. don't put too much stock into any of this—esp john b's appearance at the end—it's not important for the plot at the end of part 5, promise. just a scene i liked before i kinda changed the direction of the end of the part and had to delete stuff + rework some logistics.)

new light blurb: afterglow — rafe cameron

warnings: drinking, swearing, mentions of sex (minors dni)

“Times’it?” Rafe asks from his spot on your chest, his morning voice cracking from misuse and sending vibrations through your entire torso. “Hm?” You mumble, blindly running a hand through his hair. Your sleep-addled mind could still make out that your boyfriend smelled like chlorine.

“Time?” he reiterates.

You hum noncommittally, cracking just one eye open to search for your phone in the sheets. You can’t resist scratching a hand across his abs as you do, giggling when the muscles jump at your touch. You finally find your phone under your hip, only to discover a black screen when you try to power it on. “It’s dead.” “What would you do without me?” he chides, rolling over out of your hold to check his phone on the night stand, stopping his army crawl up the bed to give you a peck as he goes. He pulls his phone off of his charger. “Damn.” “What time is it?” You plaster yourself to his back, burrowing your face into the back of his warm neck and placing a kiss there. “Nearly noon, party girl,” he coos, plugging your phone in for you when you hand it to him and turning back over. You fall onto his chest, humming when he runs a hand through your hair. “We have to meet my sister and her boyfriend in an hour.” “Tell them to pick us up,” you whine. “And bring us coffee.” “Top said he had coffee delivered earlier. It’s in the kitchen,” he says, scrolling through the missed notifications on his phone. You hold your hand out for it, opening his Snapchat camera to check your appearance once he gives it to you. You gasp. “Oh god, I slept with my makeup on,” you groan, seeing your mascara had gathered in smears and bits under your eyes. You send a snapchat to Topper, typing out ‘please tell me you have makeup wipes.’ Rafe snatches his phone back out of your hand, saving the photo to his camera roll before he sends it for you, laughing maniacally as you whine. “I look like a panda.” “Mm,” he murmurs, setting his phone back down on the nightstand and snuggling down into the covers, arms circling in a vice grip around your waist. He assesses you one more time before letting his eyes shut again, pressing a long kiss to your forehead then resting his cheek against it. “Or maybe a raccoon. A cute one though.” “Nice save.” “I try,” he murmurs, cracking his eyes back open, looking down at you again, leaving it up to you to make that last move. You do, thumb on his chin angling him down at a good angle for you to kiss him. Rafe makes a pleased noise into your mouth, already shifting to lay on top of you, the arm that’s not holding his weight over you sliding under your back, fingers skimming underneath the back of your shirt—his shirt. There’s a knock on your door, a worse for wear looking Topper Thornton appearing in the doorway. “Hey, watch it bro,” Rafe admonishes, shifting off of you and making sure the duvet is covering you. “She’s not dressed.” “Chill, Rafe.” “Sorry, Y/n/n,” Topper says, but you just wave him off. He staggers into the room with a packet of makeup wipes, handing them off to you then promptly flopping down at the foot of the bed after you pat it, not unlike how you summon Wilbur. “I’d say I died and came back to life, but I think I just died.” “Me too, bud,” you sigh, started to scrape as much makeup as you can off your face. “Top, these are bougie.” “Did Blythe leave them here?” Rafe teases. Topper wouldn’t stop talking about this girl from his school that came to visit him a few weeks ago, and Rafe kept ribbing him for it every chance he could. “They’re my mom’s,” Topper mumbles, face down in the bed. “Fuck you.” “Down bad. Where’s Kelce?” “Last I knew, passed out in the tub down the hall.” Rafe laughs, pulling you closer to him, still making sure the covers are up to your waist. He pulls your shirt closer together where the buttons were undone. “Topper, close your eyes. I’m getting out of bed.” “I don’t think I could open them if I wanted to.” “She told you to close them,” Rafe says, kicking him from under the covers. “Ugh, you two make me sick,” he mutters, still moving to cover his eyes with his hand. “There.” “Thanks bestie,” you say, hopping out of bed to throw away your used makeup wipe. You hear a crash from down the hall as you settle back into bed. ��Is that Kelce?” Rafe asks. “Kelce is dead,” a voice says from the doorway. Kelce is wearing sunglasses, his pink suit jacket from

Midsummers still on, but not much else underneath. “I am a new person. One that is never drinking again.” “Wait,” Topper says, resting up on his forearms suddenly, looking down at the covers under him, then to Rafe, shirtless, and you, wearing his dress shirt. Your dress, probably still damp from the night before, hangs over the shower rod in the en suite. “Please don’t tell me you guys had sex in my guest bed.” You blush, immediately denying it. “No, of course—” “Might wanna tip your maids extra,” Rafe cuts you off, laughing when you hide under the covers. He stops when you kick him in the shin. Topper fake wretches, making Kelce actually wretch before he runs down the hall. —

You’re whining about the bruise Rafe left on your hip, which your yellow bikini bottom strap so conveniently dug into, when John B steers the Druthers up to Topper’s dock. Rafe hops on first, helping you after him, tugging your t-shirt—which was actually his undershirt from last night—down further for you, even though it’s already brushing the tops of your thighs. He can’t resist the urge to press on the bruise with his thumb, grinning when you suck in air through your teeth. “You’ll be fine. Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” You push him away from your ear, trying to suppress a shiver. You can’t even remember if it was from his hand or his mouth. “Sarah!” you greet, leaving Rafe to follow behind you. It isn’t long before he’s smacking John B’s hands away from the steer, taking his rightful spot. He looks silly wearing one of Topper’s shirts, stretched a bit too tightly around his bigger build, the hemline falling a bit too high on his stomach. You’d offered to wear it instead so he could have his own shirt back; he didn’t take kindly to it, huffing and forcing Topper’s shirt over his shoulders. You even think you heard a seem rip. “Hey, Y/n,” Sarah says, hugging you and offering you a White Claw. You politely decline and she giggles. “Rough night?” You just shake your head, settling into Rafe’s side where he’s driving the boat. John B keeps trying to touch things and Rafe smacks his hands away, every single time. “Be nice, Rafe.” “Ooh,” John B says in delight, and Rafe just shakes his head. “Am I making you look bad in front of your girl, Cameron?” You open your mouth to say something, comment on how their relationship had evolved since high school. But Rafe’s admittance of his insecurities last night was still fresh in your mind, and you didn’t want to stir anything back up. You just lean further into his side, squeezing him around the waist. “Watch it, Routledge,” he says, smacking John B in the back of his head. “I’m still your girlfriend’s big brother.”

—

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @amourtentiaa @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks netflix #she writes #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #this is fun #i cut so much shit like mainly straight fluff so maybe i'll post them as blurbs more

408 notes · View notes

safaia-47 · 3 years ago

Text

Gojo Satoru Diaries - Food tastes better with friends

I didn't start teaching Safaia-chan and Ryuuga-kun right away. I had been occupied for two weeks straight because curses have been flooding in since spring started. I'm just glad I cleared most of them before their party. Another reason I didn't start right away was that I wanted them to get used to their new classes. It's their senior year I want them to be able to enjoy their last year of high school.

I even had time for Megumi and Tsumiki-chan entrance ceremony pictures. I was kind of late showing up for their ceremony, Tsumiki-chan was so excited when I showed up. I think she thought I wasn't going to come, I have barely been able to come home early for them lately. Megumi just put up an act like he didn't care that I showed up, but when we took pictures I saw his face get red. Little man can't even express his feelings for me. When we took the pictures with Megumi I made bunny ears behind his head. He got so angry that he nearly took my head off. Ehehehe

I decided to mail her asking when is a good time for both of them to start learning about curse energy. She told me this weekend should be good. That's when I made up my mind to teleport to Fuji city, instead of driving there. It's better to show them some of my abilities instead of hiding them if I'm going to be their teacher. Ehehehe I should scare her by teleporting behind her. I smirked to myself and got dressed in a grey-blue jacket, white undershirt, jeans, and white sneakers, and got ready to leave the apartment that I share with the kids.

"You're the man of the house while I'm gone Megumi-chan." I ruffle his hair as tell him. He tries to push my hand awhile from his already messy hair.

"Where are you going, Mr. Gojo?" Tsumiki-chan asked me as she turned around from watching her Saturday cartoons.

"Yes, I'm going to help train some new students that I discovered just recently. They show great promise, just like Megumi-chan!" I answered her and tried pulling on the poor boy's cheek.

"That's so cool! Are taking Megumi-chan too?!" She asked again completely ignoring the yellow electric creature on screen. I guess it wouldn't be a problem taking Megumi. I'll be killing two birds with one stone. Safaia-chan will be bringing the cake that I asked for, I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing. I hope she would love to meet them as well.

"That's a great idea! You guys can meet the children of the pâtissière that made those tasty macarons. Oh, remember pâtissière is a feminine version of pastry chefs. And her daughter is making a cake for me since I graduated from Jujutsu technical college. I guess I can share with you guys." I bend down to her level. "Would you like to come Tsumiki-chan?"

Her eyes lit up and grinned "Yes!" She yelled.

"Kay now let's get ready, I'll teleport us there," I explain as I ruffle her hair and stand back up. As they were getting dressed, I mailed her asking if she didn't mind if Megumi-chan and Tsumiki-chan could come. She mails back that it was perfect, the more the merrier. I felt so relieved that she said it was okay. I'm glad she wants to meet them.

"We're done, Mr. Gojo." I look down at her from mailing Safaia-chan and noticed her cute soiled white sunflower pattern dress and white open-toe sandals. This is one of the many dresses and shoes that I bought her since I took them under my wing. I noticed she was growing out of her clothes or they were looking worse for wear.

"You look really pretty Tsumiki-chan. I'm happy you like the dress." She blushed as I picked her up.

"Thank you, Mr. Gojo." She tries to hide her blush away from me. I turn to see Megumi dressed in a dark blue shirt with a big Gabumon design on the front, black shorts, and dark blue shoes.

"Don't you look pretty Megumi-chan." I mocked him as I tried to kiss his cheek.

"Stay away from me old man and stop calling me Megumi-chan. I'm not pretty." He looks up at me and glares.

"Of course your pretty Megumi-chan. Boys can be called pretty too. Look at me I'm pretty" I ignore him correcting me and bend down to pick him up. "Remember to be nice," I told them as I teleport us to Fuji city.

I teleport to us close to the beach where Safaia-chan and I talked. "We're here everyone!" I said as I put them down because Megumi was fighting me to climb down. "So mean." He didn't care it was written all over his face.

"Where are your students, Mr. Gojo? I don't see them. She questioned as she looked around walking towards the beach.

"We're early since I teleported here. They're still preparing the cake so they can safely deliver it to us." I answered. "We're having red velvet cake. It's going to be fantastically delicious, I can't wait to eat it." I demonstrate by rubbing my belly.

"You said the pâtissières daughter is making the cake. Are you sure she can bake? We only taste her mother baking then, so how do you know she can bake?" He negatively asked.

"Hey hey now we haven't even eaten it yet. Be nice if you don't like it, tell her nicely. Who knows she might be an amazing pâtissière." I corrected him.

"Yeah be nice Megumi-chan, she made us a cake. We should be very grateful." She says with drool dripping down her mouth and her stomach growling.

"You're just answering with your noisy stomach." He said with a smirk. She blushed as she held her stomach in embarrassment.

"I'm sure they'll be here with the cake soon. Hey, there's the beach! The last one there is a mean Megumi-chan!" I started to run away from them to the beach. Followed by feet running behind me.

"I don't want to be mean Megumi-chan!" Tsumiki-chan yelled, running away from him.

"Hey, I'm not being mean, I'm being realistic!" He hollered out. Ehehehe I beat them there obviously followed by Tsumiki then Megumi.

"Better luck next time buddy." I ruffle his hair and give Tsumiki her second-place prize, a seashell.

"It's so pretty thank you, Mr. Gojo." She thanked me as she admired the new shell she got.

"You're welcome Tsumiki-chan." We did get there a lot early so we played on the beach waiting for them to show up. In between playing with them in the sand, I mail her that we're here. She sounded surprised since we got here so fast and I told her I'll tell you guys my secret when they come.

Fifteen minutes go by, and here they are holding two baskets. Ryuuga-kun wore a lightweight light blue hoodie, black shorts, and black sneakers with blue shoelaces. Next to him was Safaia-chan dressed in a purple seashell star pearl pattern spaghetti strap dress with a dainty belt, and it ended at calf-length. On her shoulders sat a light pink lightweight button sweater. And wore white sneakers with pink accents. Her curly hair was styled in a half-up ponytail with a purple scrunchie. Going throughout her ponytail were sea stars and shell's shape barrettes. Her curly fringe hair was a frame to the left side of her face, with the rest pulled back leaving her forehead showing.

'She's beautiful' was the only thing running through my mind. I like how she always dresses for herself and how unapologetic she is. Her stunning hair could pull off any hairstyle. When I ruffle her hair to tease her, I get the chance to feel her lovely soft scarlet hair. I wonder what it would feel like if I run my fingers through that gorgeous hair.

'What the hell am I thinking about! She's a friend, don't be weird, Satoru!' I scream at myself.

"Yo Ryuuga-kun, Yo Safaia-chan, glad you could come to my very first class and you're already tardy. For shame." I cross my arms pretending to be upset.

Ryuuga-kun laughed and said, "Awww we're sorry Gojo-sensei we were coming as fast as we can."

"Gojo-sensei came too early for class. I thought you take longer to show up. I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting. But I bought food and cake so I hope you'll please forgive me." She showed the basket filled with food. "Oh, is this Tsumiki-chan and Megumi-chan I heard so much about?" She peeks behind me to see the kids looking behind my legs.

"Yep, this is Fushiguro Tsumiki and Fushiguro Megumi. Funny name for a boy right?" Megumi pinched my leg as I said that. "Owwww Megumi-chan. Well, kids, these guys are my new students Amagi Ryuuga and Amagi Safaia." I introduced everyone.

"It's nice to meet you Amagi Ryuuga and Safaia. Amagi-chan is very beautiful and Amagi-san is very handsome." Tsumiki complimented the twins.

"Hello, Amagi-chan and Amagi-san. It's nice to meet you." Megumi greeted them.

"Hey, guys it's nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to working together. Thank you and you looked pretty too." Ryuuga-kun says and shakes hands their hands.

"Hi, it's so nice to finally meet you guys. Thank you Tsumiki-chan, you guys are just so adorable. Don't worry about him Megumi-chan, you have a magnificent name. Blessing or grace whoever gave you that name wishes your life would be a blessing for you. I think that's a lovely name to have, boy or girl." She gave him that gentle smile that I know too well. My chest tightens a little.

"See Megumi-chan I told you, your name is pretty." Tsumiki wholeheartedly agrees with her.

He looked off to the side so he didn't meet her eye but he mumbled: "Thank You Amagi-san." His ear turns red.

"Hey, little man there's nothing to be worried about. Your name is fine." Ryuuga bend down and gave him a thumbs up.

"Awww I didn't mean to hurt your feelings Megumi. I was just teasing you, sea urchin. See like that." I teased him again while playing with his hair.

"Cut it out Gojo-kun you big bully." She pouted at me. So cute.

Ehehehe "Me bully never." I defend myself and they all looked at me like I grew a second head.

"Hey don't gang up on me. If we're going gang up on anybody let's gang up on that cake. It needs to be eaten. Gimme gimme." I reach out my hands.

"Oh please, can we eat the cake now Amagi-chan? Tsumiki asked with big pleading eyes.

"Why of course but I also brought food since it's lunchtime. I made kara-age, tamagoyaki, korokke, onigiri, edamame, sunomono, and rice. I wasn't sure what you guys like but I hope you like it. I'm glad you mailed me before coming so I made more for everyone to enjoy." She looked at me. I was afraid she would break her neck looking up at me so I sat down with the kids helping roll out the blanket.

"Safaia prepared everything last night minus the cake which already had been done. She was darting this way that way in the kitchen. What I'm trying to say is that she worked hard on this. I hope you guys like it." Ryuuga-kun says as he helps her lay out the food, cake, and drinks.

"Everything smells delicious and I see your hard work." I smile at her.

"This smells good." Tsumiki is drooling again and Megumi nods agreeing.

"Thank you. I hope it tastes good now." She thanked us while finishing up setting out the food. "Okie dokie everything ready."

We join our hands together in front of our chests and say "Itadakimasu!"

I ate everything given to me; it was so good. It was way better than the food from my family home. "This is mouthwatering good Safaia-chan. Be my housewife."

"Nooooo she can't be a housewife yet. She is still too young. You can't take her away, she has to feed me." Her brother whined.

"So are you protecting me or just trying to get free food for the rest of your life?" She questioned him.

"Both," He said while reaching for the cake.

Megumi tugged on her dress "It was excellent Amagi-chan. I like the korokke."

"Yes, it was perfect Amagi-chan." Tsumiki said rubbing her new pot belly.

"Thank you all so much." She grins with her eyes becoming crescents moons eyes.

"Now onto the main part," Ryuuga handed out the cake to everyone and the milk that goes with it. "Red velvet cake and sheep milk."

"Sheep milk?" Tsumiki-chan questioned when she got her bottle of sheep milk.

"Yes, it's really good for you, and I didn't know if you guys were lactose intolerant. Sheep milk doesn't cause people to get sick. Also, sheep milk has way more nutrients compared to cow milk. Sheep are made from an A2 variant that's good for the digestive system. While cows have A1. But they're some cows that are good for your digestive don't get more wrong. You can make an informed choice when you get older. Plus, I like the taste of sheep milk.

"Oh, really is that the reason why people don't like milk. I didn't know that. Thanks for telling me. I feel smarter." I praise her.

"I'm glad you listen to my rambling about sheep milk." She smiled but this was a weaker smile compared to before.

"It's not rambling, it was very helpful. I got to learn something that I didn't know today. What's wrong with you talking about something you are passionate about. Don't worry about it, we didn't mind."

"Amagi-chan seems a whole lot smarter than Gojo." Megumi tries to comfort you and everyone laughs at me.

"Hey! That's Gojo-sensei to you!" I yelled as a fake cry. "No respect for your sensei."

She giggles and a brighter smile appears on her face. "I'm sure you feel better if you eat your cake Gojo-kun. Eating something sweet helps fuel your brain."

"You're so right Safaia-chan!" I cried out as I ate my slice of red velvet cake.

"This cake reminds me of Amagi-chan hair." Tsumiki humm to herself as she eats.

We talked as we finished eating the cake I found out Safaia-chan innate technique is (Stellar) Plasma Manipulation. Ryuuga-kun innate technique is Lunar Manipulation. I found out he has a shikigami, named Ryūjin. I told them I got here so fast because my abilities allow me to be able to use teleportation. I explained that when I got home from their party, I drove some and then teleported the rest of the way back home.

"That's incredible you can teleport that far of distance. Don't you get tired?" She asked me. I told her no because my eyes help refresh curse energy. Then the conversation changed to kids going to school. Safaia-chan asked them if they are making any friends or what subjects they are interested in. The cake was delightful both soft and moist.

"Eating with new friends tastes better," Safaia-chan says in a sing-song voice as I got my third slice of cake. I looked up at her listening to the kids talk. It's been a while since I heard those words. I miss eating with him.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen #writing #gojo satoru diary #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x amagi safaia #amagi safaia

10 notes · View notes

boxoftheskyking · 4 years ago

Text

Something Good, Part Sixteen

I know this is late, and not to be That Guy, but it is the playoffs

In which there is music and Wei Ying is awkward

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen

Lan Wangji kicks him out of the kitchen, but kindly.

“The children will be worried,” he says, nudging Wei Wuxian towards the door. “They didn’t see you last night. I will prepare breakfast, and you should wake them.”

So Wei Wuxian wakes them, just as he always does. It’s one of his favorite moments of the day and is the only thing that makes rising before five worthwhile. Sizhui and Jingyi always stumble over to him where he kneels, rubbing sleep out of their eyes and tumbling into his arms. He holds them for a long few seconds, feeling their warm little faces against his neck, their messy hair tickling his nose, their tiny fists pressed against his chest and shoulders.

“Are you dreaming, little ones?” he always whispers before picking them up and spinning them awake.

This morning he stays down on the floor with them for a long time. Jingyi starts snoring, a little whistling hum, which makes him laugh, which makes him cry.

“Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says when he lets them go. “Are you sad?”

“No, A-Yuan. No, I’m not sad.” He wipes his eyes. “Ha! Come on now, everyone. Breakfast! Breakfast! And I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Ouyang Zizhen hops over, grinning down at him.

“Yes! Yes, come on. Up! Up! Hanguang Jun is making breakfast today!”

“Hanguang Jun can cook?” Su Meiling asks with her undershirt stuck over her head.

“Hanguang Jun can do everything,” Lan Ting says.

“Clothes! Clothes, now, come on.” Wei Wuxian gets Su Meiling sorted out and darts around tying sashes and pulling up boots.

Wen Ning stays back in his corner, dressing silently and staring at him, blank. Wei Wuxian, still a coward, sends all the children out before approaching him.

“Are you going to leave?” Wen Ning asks.

“No.”

“Are you going to change your mind?”

“I’m not going to leave unless they send me away. Unless you all want me to leave.”

Wen Ning nods.

“Do you—” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose. They’re really only a few years apart. He suddenly feels like the young one, desperately seeking approval. “Do you want me to leave?”

There is a very, very long silence. Three years at least. Then Wen Ning throws himself forward, wrapping his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and pressing his forehead into his shoulder.

“No, no, please don’t go. Don’t go.”

“Aiyah, Wen Ning. They’ll have to fight me off.”

Wen Ning mumbles something into his shirt.

“What? Here, I can’t hear you.” He pulls the boy back by the shoulders.

“Why were you going to leave?”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip. “I was wrong about something. I thought something had happened that would mean I couldn’t stay, but I was wrong. Now I know where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do.”

“And what’s that?” He’s shrewd, this kid, gentle but iron underneath.

“Look after you. For as long as you need it.”

“And Jiejie?”

“What Wen Qing does is her business. The junior disciples are mine.”

Wen Ning makes him wait for it, but finally a sunrise smile takes over his face.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Wen Ning salutes him and dashes out the door to catch up with the others.

In the afternoon, the children quietly practice their brushwork. Lan Wangji doesn’t look like he’s been up all night, but he’s passed on teaching lessons and set them busy work instead. Wei Wuxian is leaning against the doorway and keeps jerking himself awake. They’re mostly very attentive, focused on their writing with furrowed brows, tips of tongues poking out from serious faces. Wei Wuxian doesn’t notice that Lan Wangji has left until he comes back with Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren.

That wakes him up, trying to stand at attention and look responsible. The look Lan Xichen gives him is so kind and almost proud, it reminds him of Yanli and makes it very hard to not do something ridiculous like hug him. Lan Qiren is impossible to read. He doesn’t look completely furious or disgusted, so Wei Wuxian assumes he’s been told the whole story.

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to say something, can’t think of anything, and bows instead.

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren says. Wei Wuxian bows again. “I’m told you will be staying in Cloud Recesses.”

“If allowed by the Grandmaster, of course,” he says diplomatically.

“Hmf,” is all the response he gets.

“We are honored by your continued service to our sect,” Lan Xichen says. Wei Wuxian scratches the back of his neck and barely stops himself from scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says suddenly. Lan Xichen’s eyebrows raise and his lip curls up in surprise. Now Lan Qiren looks furious.

“Yes, Hanguang Jun?” Better to play it safe.

Lan Wangji says nothing more, just reaches into his sleeve and pulls out Chenqing, holding it out to him with his jaw set and shoulders straight. Wei Wuxian looks hastily around the room, wondering if a set of guards or angry villagers might burst through the windows. Nothing happens. The Sect Leader and Grandmaster also do nothing, though Lan Qiren’s face is nearly as red as Lin Biming’s. Wei Wuxian takes the flute from him, giving an awkward little half-smile, and then tucks it quickly away inside his shirt.

“Wei-qianbei!” Lan Feifei pipes up. “Is that a flute?”

“Yes, Feifei, just a flute. Just a normal flute, for a normal man. To play normal music.”

“Will you teach us?”

“Oh, yes, teach us!” Lan Hua and Su Ming shout from the back of the room.

“Uh. I, uh . . . We’ll see.”

Lan Qiren storms out of the room. Lan Xichen smiles, bows to them, and follows, graceful as a summer breeze.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian hisses to him. “He may not be able to send me away, but he can still kill me with his mind.”

“Who?”

“Your uncle!”

“He can’t—”

“Never mind!” Wei Wuxian waves him off, suddenly feeling restless. “All right, disciples! You’ve all worked very diligently today, and you behaved so well during the festivities this week, how about we spend the rest of the day with the rabbits? Good, yes?”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow at him.

“Really, Lan Zhan, get your face under control,” Wei Wuxian mutters to him before heading out the door.

“I will see you this evening,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian spins back around to him and pouts. “No bunnies for you?”

He shakes his head. “There is work to be done now that the guests have all left. But I will ask Madam Xiao to supervise dinner and bedtime tonight. Come to the Jingshi.”

Wei Wuxian looks at him for a long moment, waiting for some crack in his expression. “All right,” he says finally. “Deal.”

He spends the afternoon playing Chenqing for the children and the rabbits. When the children ask him “What song is that? Is it about something?” he makes up fantastical stories about cranes that turn into old women and children that grow in place of radish bulbs.

He’s hit the point of being awake for so long—and he’s realizing how little he’s been sleeping all week—that he’s tapped into a kind of manic energy. Part of it surely is being able to play music, freely, as much and as loud as he likes, for the first time in years. He lines the children up and tries to assign them each a little melody.

“Now, Yao Hualing, when I play this figure—” he blows a little trill— “then that means I’m calling you. Ready?”

He plays it again, and she hops up. Su Meiling hops up, too.

“No, A-Ling, this is you.” He plays a slightly different trill, and she frowns at him.

“I can’t tell the difference, Wei-qianbei.”

“Me neither!” Lan Yixian yells, hanging upside down from a tree branch.

Wei Wuxian sighs. “Well, we’ll call that a failed experiment. Who knows a song to teach to everyone?”

After a number of favorite songs sung too many times, and an intense argument over how many children Mother Chaochong has in the “real” version, it’s time to eat. He turns the children over to Madam Xiao and apologizes for the inconvenience. She just pinches his cheek, which makes the children scream with laughter.

When he gets to the Jingshi, the door is closed, and he’s not certain if Lan Wangji is around. He kicks some stones around on the pathway, nerves bubbling up inside his ribcage, until the door opens and Lan Wangji looks around, face worried.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls with completely false confidence. “Here I am! Are you going to play the gu—”

He loses his voice and his mouth goes completely dry when he gets to the doorway. Lan Wangji is dressed for bed, only wearing one layer of robes, hair down around his shoulders. It’s an odd sight when the sun hasn’t even started to go down yet.

“What—” he can’t think of what to ask, so he takes his boots off and holds them. Lan Wangji sits down on the bed, and Wei Wuxian is quite sure the skin on his cheeks is about to melt away.

“You haven’t slept.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“You should sleep.”

Wei Wuxian coughs. “I have a— I have a bed.”

“There are other people there, in the servants quarters. You won’t sleep well.”

“There’s other people here. I mean, you’re here.”

Lan Wangji’s brow furrows. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No!” Wei Wuxian shouts and drops his boots. “I mean. Unless you want to. But you’re not dressed, so that would be a scandal. What would everyone say? Wen Qing might see you, and then where would we be? Not—”

“Wei Ying.”

“Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“Come here. And sleep.”

He has some kind of hypnotizing powers. That’s the only explanation for how Wei Wuxian is suddenly next to him, one knee up on the bed.

“And what about you?”

“I will also sleep,” Lan Wangji says, as if it’s that simple. He rises and closes the door, then crawls onto the bed, settling near the wall. There is plenty of space.

“There’s no way I’m going to sleep,” Wei Wuxian breathes. Lan Wangji just looks at him, a challenge, and far be it from Wei Wuxian to not meet a challenge.

He lays down on his side and stares over at Lan Wangji. “I mean it, there’s no way—”

“Shh.”

Wei Wuxian glares at him, then squeezes his eyes shut as dramatically as possible.

He’s asleep before he can take another breath.

Part Seventeen

#assorted writings #something good #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #this chapter is brought to you by Mania #yer gal needs some SLEEP

55 notes · View notes

deliciouspeachpirate · 4 years ago

Note

fluff- 1 or 18 for javid? i love your writing !

A/N Thank you so much, you are so sweet! And thank you for requesting! This is probably not quite what you had in mind, but I’m pretty happy with it! I did a modified version of the “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” prompt. This is absolutely entirely fluff. I hope you like it! Have a great night/day everyone, and thank you for reading! Requests are still open if anyone has anything they want to see! <3

"Jack come on, you've been working for hours, its late."

"I just gotta finish this bit tonight Dave, Medda wants this done by the end of the week." Jack added a few strokes to his painting, pulling back to see if it looked the way he wanted. "She has a new show and she really wants this to be ready for it."

"Jack its almost done anyway, leave it for tonight and you can come work on it tomorrow!"

Jack only hummed in response, eyebrows furrowing as he brought his brush back to work on the finer details. The painting was gorgeous. It showed the city from high above, looking out towards the Brooklyn Bridge, with the sun setting in the background. Davey always loved Jack's art, but he liked Jack's sunsets most of all. The colors were always so vibrant, blending together to create something so realistic and yet too beautiful to be found anywhere that Davey knew of. He always felt like he could see Jack in them. The brightness of the reds, oranges, and yellows always seemed so playful yet kind and welcoming, just like Jack was. And underneath that were the pinks and purples that reminded him of the softer, more emotional side of Jack that normally only ever showed itself during late night conversations in the penthouse or when someone was upset. It was bright and rambunctious and playful, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It held a sort of mystery or puzzle that Davey couldn't help but be drawn to whenever he looked at it.

He smiled as his thoughts kept drifting around Jack. He couldn't believe that this boy was his boyfriend. Even though they had been dating for a few months now, he still got butterflies in his stomach every time Jack looked at him with his eyes all soft or when he laughed at something. Hell, being around Jack at all gave him butterflies. Not the kind you get when you are nervous anymore, but the kind when you get when you wake up and realize that its your birthday or when you see your best friend after a long time. Being with Jack made him feel beautiful and safe and warm and like there was nothing in the world that he couldn't take on. He mind slipped further and further into a happy daze and his eyes drooped shut as he dreamed about his love.

"-ave, Dave, DAVEY"

Davey jumped, causing Jack's hand to fall from his shoulder. He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep while waiting for Jack. Unfortunately, he knocked over one of Jack's cans of paint water that was on the table that he had been leaning on next to him and it spilled all over his vest, soaking through to the undershirt he had on under it. He and Jack jumped up and quickly moved to try and dry the table and floor off before it could damage anything else.

"You alright there, Dave?"

Davey sighed exasperatedly, fumbling to move the chair out of the way. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that Jack. How long was I asleep?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders with a little grin, "Don't ya worry bout it, Dave. I have no idea how long you were asleep, you was just quiet for a bit an' when I looked over your head was in your hand an' you were droolin out the side of your mouth."

"Jack! Come on, really?" Davey wiped the corner of his mouth, hoping to not make an even bigger fool of himself.

"Ay relax, sweetheart, ya looked cute," Davey ducked his head and smiled shyly at that. "Now come on, ya gotta get outa your shirt, its all wet."

Jack moved to unbutton it for him before Davey had a chance to, causing him to blush profusely. Of course Jack had seen him without a shirt on before, its not like the two of them hadn't done anything in the three months they'd actually been together, but he was more ready for it then and normal had his mind on...other things. Jack noticed the pink flush across his cheeks and chuckled at him before motioning for Davey to put his arms so he could take of his shirt entirely.

"Aight now, I should have an extra shirt over there," he gestured vaguely to the supply closet on the other side of the room, "go put it on 'for ya get too cold."

Davey thanked him and Jack smiled in return before turning around to put away his paints. Davey jogged over to the closet and opened it. Upon rummaging around a bit, he saw a shirt he was pretty sure he remembered wearing during the last union meeting over in Brooklyn. Chuckling and rolling his eyes at his thieving boyfriend, Davey quickly slipped the dry shirt over his head, buttoning his vest over it.

"Oh Jack!"

Jack looked up at a smirking Davey standing with his arms crossed about a foot away.

"Yes Davey, my love?" he smiled back at him, raising an eyebrow.

Davey wrapped his arms around Jack, pulling him closer to his chest.

"Is there a reason you had my shirt in the closet?"

"Your shirt, don't you mean our shirt? Since apparently that's what it is at this point, huh?"

Davey started twisting Jack's hair between his fingers, smiling down at his cheeky grin.

"Jack, you idiot, no. This is my shirt. Remember, I wore it to Brooklyn the other day?"

Jack started laughing outright at that, startling Davey and causing his eyebrows to knit in confusion.

"Davey, hun, that's MY shirt!" Jack managed to get his explanation out through his chuckles. "You stayed over the night before and put it on instead of your own that morning, I just didn't stop you!"

Davey cocked his head, hardly remembering the rush out the door that morning much less what he had been thinking when he got dressed.

"I'm not so sure about that, Jackie."

"Love, that's what happened," Jack laughed again, "Trust me, the boys wouldn't stop teasin me about it all day. That's my shirt!"

"Okay I guess I have to believe you, but I don't remember that at all, I swear this looks like my shirt," Davey sighed.

Jack put his head against Davey's chest and chuckled again before leaning up to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"Aight Dave, lemme put my brushes away an then I'm walking ya home, meet me at the stage door, hm?" Jack squeezed Davey's hands quickly before stepping back from him and finishing up his cleaning.

A few minutes later, Jack opened the door for Davey as the two of them stepped out into the cool night air. Jack took Davey's hand gently, smiling up at him as he did. Their lips met and they exchanged soft, sweet kisses in between quiet giggles as they walked down the dark street in silence. The kiss lasted a little longer once they reached the building where the Jacob's apartment was. They both whispered their goodnights and Davey jogged up the steps to the door.

"Ay Dave!"

He turned around and raised an eyebrow when he saw the genuine smile on Jack's face rather than the famous Kelly smirk.

"What do you want now, Mr. Kelly? You've already kept me out late."

"Keep the shirt, it looks better on you anyway."

With that and one last kiss blown in Davey's direction, Jack Kelly slid back down the streets of Manhattan and into the darkness. Davey grinned and opened the door, letting the warm light from inside wash over him. Yep, he was in love with that boy.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #requested #i hope you guys liked this!#I had fun with this #its just all fluff #i love these boys

28 notes · View notes

kathyprior4200 · 4 years ago

Text

Haven Hotel: That’s Disengagement!

A princess with long black wavy hair walked out onto a high balcony. She wore a black undershirt with a white bow tie on top. A dark teal shirt, long white pants and white high heel shoes completed the look. Her face was pale white and teal blushes were present on her cheeks. Her eyes consisted of white pupils and dark blue sclera. Perched on her head was a black spiked crown. She was the inverted, antithesis of Charlie, the princess of Hell in a parallel world.

“For all my life, I’ve been taught that all angels have good inside them. But I know that to be a lie. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith, God’s closest angels betrayed Him… I don’t think I can believe in these flawed teachings anymore…”

The princess was Coerciona Egnam, Coercia for short. She was born and raised in Heaven…though she was not at all one would expect her to be in such a place. Self-entitled and pessimistic, nothing much could cheer her up except heavy metal music, rebelling against the rules and the occasional brawl.

“It makes sense that only a worthy few are able to be here in Heaven. Choosing them out of the sea of sinner scum. Yet ironically, even the saints and Heaven-born aren’t flawless all the time. It’s inevitable that all those imperfect beings will go to Hell. They deserve to deal with suffering and challenges. Best of all, they wouldn’t be bound by social expectations. Heck, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it were me. I do enjoy my comfortable life here, just not these restrictions.”

Her servants Pub and Chub were fat white naked cherubs with horns on their heads, small white feathery wings, and black eyes. One tested the strings on an electric guitar while the other shot out torpedoes from a small cannon.

Outside was a white clock tower standing tall against the blue sky. The numbers read 0 then changed to 365 days. Writing above the numbers read “Days until the next cleanse in Hell.”

The black Exorcists did their job in eliminating part of the demon population in 2P Hell like they did every year in the canon Hell. But at the same time each year, the Anti-Exorcists, risen white demons with white bat wings and horns, invaded 2P Heaven. They carried glowing black pitchforks and turned innocent denizens into demons. The Anti-Exorcists would carry books and tempt angels with their innermost desires. Sex, sin, self-expression, sorcery, whatever that need was. Then, once they were hooked, they were stabbed with the pitchforks, causing their wings to burn off and sending them plummeting down to Hell. Nearby families would grieve at their loss.

It was quite the entertaining show for Princess Coercia!

Coercia leaned against the marble balcony and began to sing in a low growl.

(“I’m Always Evading Shadows”)

“At the end of the journey, there’s suffering

Denying it, how often I’ve tried

But my life’s a disgrace

Just a slap in the face

And the harsh truths have all been denied”

“A sliver of despair in this world of light

I know this world’s not free of sin

I search for the good

But get misunderstood

And reality will always win”

“Why have I always been imperfect?

Lost in this brainwashed sea

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Trapped, drowning in the social flow

Free-will forbidden, my answers are hidden

Lying down below”

“Some people sugarcoat their speeches

I always blab out what I mean

I may be cruel but I am no fool

Things are never what they seem

Believe me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Waiting for people to awaken

In vain”

A nearby portal opened and out came the Exterminators, bloodstains over their wings and bodies and harpoons. They took off their creepy LED masks, their white angelic faces revealed. One by one, the citizens clapped and cheered. One of the Archangels with four black wings flew up to the front, his spiked halo glowing. He took off his mask, revealing a white stern face with yellow eyes and short black hair. In his utility belt were a few daggers, whips, chains and a bottle of emergency holy water.

“Another successful purge,” their leader Samael (Venom of God) praised. “You cleansed more sinners while still keeping the population in a good balance. Well done, all of you.” He cleared his throat and made a cross symbol over his heart. “For the greater good in the name of our Lord.”

The angels repeated the phrase.

“Until next year. Dismissed.” The Archangel soldiers saluted and then flew off separately to see their families. Several of the angels, having been brainwashed in their Exterminator states, shook their heads sadly at what they had done.

All around Coercia, Holy City was basked in a heavenly glow. The city was located up in the sky among the clouds, but no one had to worry about falling, even the ones without their wings out. A large church with the appearance of the Notre Dame Cathedral stood proudly in the city square, made of polished marble. Choirs and songs floated through the stained glass windows as the regular angels went in and out to pray and visit with their neighbors. A large fountain sprouted non-alcoholic wine of a golden color. It had a white statue of Mary and Jesus as a young boy at the top, both with welcoming faces.

The streets were spotless and clean. Roofs and roads were powered by the sun’s rays. The Cloud 9 supermarket had endless amounts of food for sale…no one ever had to worry about going hungry. Charity workers and volunteers worked by the dozens, passing out food and bestowing miracles for those who needed them in the lower levels of Heaven. Metatron, the highest ranking angel, was busy keeping records of human lives, deaths and the messages of God.

This version of Heaven was very similar to the Heaven in the realm next door, the one above the familiar Hell with the Hazbin Hotel. The architecture was almost the same. But unlike those angels with their blonde hair and red blushes, these angels most often had black hair and teal blushes on their pale cheeks. Like in the other Heaven, some of the bipedal angels displayed animal-like characteristics: some had heads of doves, others had swan wings and mannerisms. Many of them had fur, ears, and fluffy tails of dogs and wolves. It was the only place where dogs and cats could dance and prance together without conflict. Still a few others had faces of flowers or even objects like harps and musical instruments.

God’s Palace was the grandest place of all: it was settled at the highest point of Heaven like Mount Olympus. Only a few angels were allowed to visit there. God’s abode, the Empyrean, had an elite group of angels guarding it. Seraph angels with six fiery rainbow wings guarded the throne of God, chanting “Holy, holy, holy!” much to the annoyance to those nearby. There were rumors that in the palace gardens, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge were grown there, heavily protected.

Lucius and Lilian were Coercia’s parents, those who took the place of Lucifer and Lilith after they were banished. They were named the new king and queen of heaven (Under God and a few Archangels), thus Coercia became the princess.

Lucius had a white face, teal blushes on his cheeks and short dark hair. Lucius wore a gray suit with a dark blue bow tie and a black top hat with two white feathers attacked to the brim. Lilian’s hair was long and black, and she too had the teal blushes and typical angel features. She wore a golden halo crown and an elegant white sequined dress. Both had white wings which could turn black when they were angry or defensive.

In a nearby movie studio, Valentine the butterfly producer, Nil the TV angel and Ashen, the doll angel sat together playing a board game. Despite liking old fashioned shows and the like, they still controlled much of Heaven’s technology and media. Iris, owner of an emporium, cried as she crossed out the name of her former female colleague, Francesca.

Along the street, a red car stopped beside the sidewalk. A tall creature opened the car door and stepped out. The spider angel had a furry dark gray face and body, plus multiple slender arms: six in total. He wore tall boots, green gloves and a shirt with a teal bow-tie near the top. His shirt and sleeves had black and dark green stripes. Green dots resembling eyes were located under his eyes.

“Thank you for the ride,” said the spider angel.

“No problem, Devil Grit,” said the driver Sivart, a white furry owl guy wearing a top hat. He tipped his hat to him and drove away.

Devil Grit walked over to a vending machine and bought himself a granola bar. He then gave it to a homeless guy leaning against the wall.

He walked inside a building and onto a stage in an auditorium. His opponent was already standing nervously at his spot, a microphone rising from the ground and stopping in front of him.

Sir Anguis was the nervous white snake. He had a white face with large slightly teal eyes with white pupils. He wore a white bow tie with a blue circle in the center below his thin neck. Surrounding his face on a flap of skin were bright teal eyes against dark purple. His suit was light gray with dark purple vertical stripes. Finally, he wore a large light gray top hat with a large green moving eye in the center.

The crowd settled into their seats and the debate began.

“Those other brave do gooders will do great with helping me with my presentation. Anyone want to try?”

A couple of hands shot up. Mechanical eggs on robotic legs moved around to help out the white snake lord.

“Oh thank you, my Nestlings,” he said.

Air Anguis pushed a button and a presentation showed up on a screen titled “Heaven Economics and Invention Ideas.”

“I don’t like to fight,” Sir Anguis said, clearing his throat, “and I’m super nervous up here…”

The Nestlings rolled their eyes.

Devil Grit glared at his cowardly opponent who then yelped, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Heaven doesn’t need any future technology,” Devil Grit argued as he stepped to his podium, “because we already have better things: friendships, food, and fun.”

Sir Anguis glanced down nervously at his note cards and read from them. “At this rate I will persuade the entire East end of Holy City by night’s beginning. Or was it day’s end? And nothing, not a single beauty in this paradise of bliss, will be able to change my mind or escape the constrictive grasp of persuasive argumentation.”

“Heaven will be ours, though it’s mine in my mind. And everybody will know the name of…”

“Scared Snake,” said a female voice.

“W-who said that?” Sir Anguis asked.

“You ready for a debate, old man?”

The voice belonged to Berri Blossom, the opposite of Cherri Bomb in Hell. She was a tall cyclops with black skin, with a single green eye with a black cross in the center. She wore a long dark green dress and white high heeled shoes. Her black skin was decorated in some areas near her shoulders with tiny teal specks. Her long hair was curly, blue at the top and black near the bottom. She pushed her thin dark rimmed glasses up to her face, looking at her organized set of notes in front of her.

She walked over beside her academic partner Devil Grit. “Why don’t you play with your tinker toys somewhere else while I go over the logistics of divine law school?” She looked professional and poised. “Seven Reasons Why Heavenly Traditions Never Fail.”

“You want to go, madam?” Sir Anguis asked, a spark of rebellion in him. He fiddled with a few gadgets before the well-dressed Nestling eggs…egged him on to continue. He flicked his hood back. “Well, let the battle for tenure and status begin!”

A neon logo appeared on the screen, saying “777 News” surrounded by a halo. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

“Good afternoon, Holy City!” smiled a pale woman with short black hair, wearing a light blue dress. “I’m Catie Carejoy!”

“And I’m Ron Wrench!” said the man next to her, wearing a business suit and who had a wrench for a head.

After discussing the weather, various humane societies, and legends on Earth, Catie continued, “The debate battle is underway between inventor and coward Sir Anguis and professional economics expert Berri Blossom. Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of His Majesty Lucius, who’s here to discuss her brand new passion-project! All that and more after the break!”

Inside the break room, Phalla the romantic butterfly angel adjusted Coercia’s white bow tie. Nearby, a blue tinted sign read “No smoking.” Another sign read “In The Air” in large letters.

“Okay, you remember what to say?” Phalla asked Coercia.

“Yes, I’m ready,” Coercia stated.

Phalla brushed her long black hair from her face, the ends of her black hair teal. Like Vaggie in Hell, Phalla’s thick hair extended down to her legs, giving her hair the appearance of moth wings. She had a glowing green cross over her right eye and her left eye was purple with a white pupil. A teal bow was perched on top of her head. Her skin was light gray and she wore a dark gray crop top with white Xs over her breasts. She also wore leggings, her right legging striped dark green and light gray, her left legging light gray.

“Oh this is gonna be great!” Phalla squealed happily. “How about you make your speech sound more exciting?”

“Come on, Phalla, I know what I’m going to say,” Coercia answered, crossing her arms.

Phalla walked over to the pitcher of ambrosia punch on the table. Pub and Chub ate bagels from the table. Phalla got an idea. “Oh! What if you…”

“Sing a song about it?” Coercia asked, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to. This is serious!” She curled her hand into a fist and brought it down on the palm of her other hand. “They won’t take me serious if I start belting out some random song. Life isn’t a musical.”

“But neither is it an emo tragedy,” Phalla pointed out. “Life is great, especially with all the cute guys around.” Her single purple eye shinned.

“Romance, bleh,” Coercia made a face and Phalla giggled.

“Hey,” Phalla brightened, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have some ideas about what you could say.” She bounced up and down. “The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

“They’re all highlighted,” Coercia replied, scanning the paper. “You call your childish drawing your ideas for me?”

“Sure!” Phalla said. “Look here.” It showed a list of different terms “sinners = winners” “Misunderstood are still good” and “demons and angels party between worlds!” Skulls were lined up at the bottom of the page: “we’re all connected by death.”

“Say, that’s actually pretty good!” Coercia said with a smile of sharp teeth.

“Thanks!” Phalla beamed.

Coercia snatched the piece of paper from her friend and tore it in half, much to her shock. “But you should know my ideas are always better.” She tossed the pieces of paper aside, gave a salute and walked out the door.

Catie waved with a smile. “Hi. I’m Catie Carejoy.” She held out her hand but Coercia didn’t take it, instead remarking, “You can put that away. I don’t touch commoners, I have standards.” Catie, looked stunned, pulling her hand back. “So this project of yours, when did you come up with this idea of creating a hotel in order to…break the law as the rumors say?”

The angel crew murmured nervously.

“I’m gonna keep this short,” Coercia said as she walked over to the desk. “You might think my idea doesn’t hold water, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m too influential to give a flying feather about what some stuffy old news lady thinks of my proposal.”

The crowd gasped. Ron shook his head.

“Well, if you can’t take constructive criticism and be polite…”

“…and we’re live!” called a voice as a buzzer sounded.

“And we’re back!” Catie said, rushing over into her seat. “So, Carrie…”

“It’s Princess Coerciona Egnam,” said Coercia, sitting in a chair beside her and Ron Wrench.

“Sorry. So tell us about your project.”

Coercia took a deep breath. “As most of you know, I was born here in Heaven, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. But recently, I don’t believe that’s always the case. We just completed another Extermination. So many sinful souls lost but for what reason? God said in the Commandments “thou shall not kill,” yet killing random people is okay? If we can’t even trust ourselves with our actions and thoughts, is Heaven truly paradise? Not to mention that ever since Lucifer and Lilith betrayed Him, we don’t know who to really trust. Some people are given too many chances!” She pounded her fist on the desk, startling Catie.

Coercia stood up and made her way forward. “No one is truly flawless. Mistakes are made, but we get blamed for doing things we sometimes enjoy. Sex, drugs, partying, swearing, even violence. All because we don’t live up to impossible standards imposed upon us, both here and on Earth! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such lies and propaganda! So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a more liberating way to hinder forced compliance here in Heaven? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to express change through…recreation?”

The angels talked quietly amongst themselves. Phalla nodded in appreciation.

“Well I think yes,” Coercia continued. “So that’s what this project aims to achieve.” She walked back to the desk and sat down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that encourages moderate amounts of so-called sin!” She spread out her arms.

The audience stared in stunned silence. Many of the adults were shaking their heads.

“Who is that girl?” asked a dragon watching from inside a soup kitchen. “What’s her deal with trying to cause more trouble for this world?”

“She’s nuts!” added another angel with an eagle’s head and wings, wearing a suit.

Coercia added nervously while still trying to keep a glare, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place to work toward self-expression. Yay.”

Among the crowd of angels watching the news outside, a tall man with a thin pale face stood toward the back. He wore a light blue dress suit, had blue and white hair, fluffy deer-like ears, and large blue eyes. His white wings were folded behind him. He watched the program with a look of worry. A deer creature made of light appeared beside him. A sign posted on the wall showing the same man as a DJ read: “Counseling and good times with the Techno Angel!”

A camera man shook his head at Coercia. Phalla walked up to him and pleaded, “Please give her a chance.”

Coercia sighed. “Look, I know every single one of you has insecurities and issues that need not be bottled up. If you could just embrace those sides of yourselves…”

Coercia then smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.”

Phalla clapped her hands and “ooohed” in excitement as Rub and Chub got the electric guitar ready.

Coercia showed a pair of sharp white teeth and black curved horns emerged from her head. Black feathery wings sprouted from her back and an X appeared over her right eye. A harpoon appeared in her right hand and a spiked halo appeared over her head. She was in her dark angelic Exorcist form. She posed over the desk and began.

(“Inside of Every Angel is a Sinner”)

“I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a fantastic mind-blowing hotel

One of a kind, go and yell

A great place to dwell

Catering to specific clientele”

*Guitar starts and scream vocals*

“Inside of every angel is a sinner

Inside of every do-gooder is a beast

Inside of every jolly go-lucky mentality

Is a subconscious portion we know the least”

“Resist all the rules

You’re not passive fools!

With just a little time

Down at the Hazbin Hotel!”

“So all you rescuers, priests, and heroes

Gifted athletes, jocks, and cheerios

And the sheep citizens, relief is here!

All of you angels, leaders, and stars

Traditionalists with fancy cars

And the activists on Mars

Show no fear

No taboos, no laws

Embrace your flaws

You’ll be truly free

Check in with me

It’s the right path, you’ll see”

“There’ll be no more pressure

And no more status quo

Just friendship, fun, and endless bags of dough

Establishment put to rest

You’ll be like, “Yes!”

In the tunnel of darkness you’ll go!”

“So all your hierarchies, GMOs, politics, and isms

Lectures, labor standards, and diamond studded prisms

Ancient Indian elitisms

All must die”

“All you fantasizers, artists, servers, and lords

Spoiled children, winners of awards

Imposers of chores

Face your fear!”

“Be who you are

And you’ll go so far

Our service will raise the bar

You’ll be the star

Come from near or afar at the Hazbin Hotel!

Yeah!”

“Wow,” said an angel in a top hat. “That was…alright.”

The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

Catie shook her head. “What in the Nine Levels makes you think a single denizen of Heaven would give two feathers about becoming a sinful person? You have no proof that your little experiment even works! You want people to disobey God and the rules just…because?!”

Coercia lifted up her head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause.”

“And who might that be?” Catie asked.

“Oh just someone named…Devil Grit.”

“The grumpy old spider?” asked Ron Wrench.

“He’s not old,” argued Catie. “He just acts older than he is.”

“Anyway,” said Catie to Coercia. “You couldn’t even get that guy to do something bad, even if a gun was pointed at his head.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Coercia argued. “He’s been troubled, dirty, and having conflicted thoughts for two weeks now.”

“Breaking news!” called a voice as the screen changed to a recent debate shown in a building.

The news came on, detailing Devil Grit and his recent TED talk about the 7 Heavenly Virtues.

“Well, it looks like the one discussing the Heavenly Virtues is none other than…conservative Devil Grit! What a coincidence!”

She and Ron did a “ratings!” and jazz hands.

Corceria rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry to say, but it looks like your plan’s departed on arrival,” said Catie. “I hope you learned a good lesson here.”

Coercia’s eyes twitched, her teeth barred. “Lesson?! I’ll teach you a lesson, bitch!” The princess and Catie fought fist and claw on the desk. Ron called for security.

After Coercia was kicked out, Phalla followed her wordlessly to the white limo. Devil Grit, Phalla, and Coercia rode back to the hotel.

Devil Grit lounged in the far seat, wearing an outfit of black with green stripes and green gloves on his four hands.

“Devil,” said Phalla with concern. “I know you were trying to do good by doing your professional speech. But could you please try not to help society in public? Now people won’t believe us when Coercia says that people are free to express their earthly desires.”

“I’m sorry Phalla,” said Devil from the other seat, “But I have a reputation to keep up. Helping the greater good is His plan for all of us. Besides, a good professional debate is a reasonable form of self-expression right?”

“Not to everyone,” said Phalla. “What about the hotel? People are thinking that you don’t care about Coercia’s project at all.”

“I do care, senorita,” said Devil. “I just don’t think it’s going to be easy to accomplish in such a short time. So many angels are fixated on tradition, myself included.”

“I do appreciate all of your help,” said Coercia, still fuming after the interview, arms crossed. “But I will make this project work, even if I have to do it myself.”

The white limo pulled up in front of the hotel, a pristine building made of glass and marble. The group got out of the car and stepped inside.

White wings made of rainbow scales posed as part of the structure on the roof. The stained glass windows by the door were decorated with apples, a tree of life, and many shades of blue and green. The sign above read “Hazbin Hotel” in big letters on the roof. Inside the lobby, a painting of Adam reaching toward God was displayed on the high ceiling. The hotel had seven floors with seven rooms on each floor. There was even a lab down in the basement which belonged to a man named Baker, the opposite of the demon fish scientist Baxter from Hell. A bowl of blue berries and blue raspberries sat on a table below a welcome banner. Phalla rested on a couch while Devil Grit munched on a granola bar.

“It’s probably a good idea to stock up some more food in this place,” said Devil Grit. “Good or bad, people always seem to be greedy when they’re hungry.”

Devil Grit pulled out a chart and went over probabilities and graphs regarding the hotel and the potential number of visitors. Coercia just sighed and walked away toward the door. She went outside and took out her cell phone, calling her mom.

“Carol cakes!” called her mother through the phone. Coercia cringed.

“Mom, I told you not to call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Lilian with a giggle. “How was the interview?”

“Meh. It was alright. I proposed my idea, but nobody seemed to buy it.”

Lilian’s tone turned more serious. “Coercia, why do you insist that everyone must go down to that horrible place? Why can’t you just see the good in people?”

“Because,” Coercia said, “Everyone has flaws and they don’t realize it.”

“Yes, but that also applies to you, too. Before you get involved with the lives of others, you need to look inside and critique yourself.”

“I’m a princess. Everyone else has more flaws than I do.”

Lilian let out a long sigh. “Young lady, we’ve been through this I don’t know how many times. You have to push your selfish thoughts aside and just accept the way things are. It’s part of a higher purpose.”

“And what is this “higher purpose” anyway? To be His flock of dazed sheep, dancing around without any care in the world? To not experience ecstasy and adventure, even for just a moment?”

“That stuff is dangerous and forbidden. Thousands of souls would do anything to get up to this level of Heaven. And you just want to throw your life away?”

Coercia paused in thought. “If it means proving myself and serving Him in a way I see fit, then so be it.”

“You have delusions of what entertainment and happiness is, Carol. Sometimes, you need to take the time and appreciate the beauty that’s in front of you.”

“Other than my own refection, I don’t really see beauty in many other things. Well, heavy metal and watching battles…oh and watching sinners beg for their last breaths…”

“You have a lot to learn, dear daughter,” Lilian replied. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.”

“Whatever.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Coercia hung up and went back inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door frame, closing her eyes in frustration…trying to hold back a stream of tears from the stress.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Two knocks, four ones, then a last one. Coercia turned around with a sigh to answer it. She swung the stained glass door open. From outside stood a tall slender man with a pale light gray face, wearing a light blue pinstriped dress coat. A white upward cross was part of the design on his light blue undershirt. He was carrying a modern microphone atop a staff in his left hand. His small antlers were white and his hair and deer ears were blue with white tips. A monocle rested under his left eye. Coercia narrowed her eyes.

“Hi, excuse me…” he spoke quietly. “Is this…”

Coercia angrily slammed the door in his face.

She opened it again.

“…the right address?” finished the man.

“No!” she shouted, slamming it again.

“Hey Phalla!” called Coercia.

“What?” her friend asked.

“The crybaby Deer Man is at the door!”

“What?!” she asked, blushes appearing on her cheeks.

“Who?” asked Devil Grit.

“What should I do?”

“Well…let him in!” Phalla cried, eye shining.

Coercia rolled her eyes and scoffed. She sighed and opened the door again.

“May I talk now?” the man asked in a radio voice.

“Sure, whatever,” Coercia said.

The man held out a white gloved four-fingered hand. “Rotsala, it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” He walked in. Worry was etched on his face. “I saw your interview on the picture show and I was worried sick! I was afraid you were never coming back after your argument. Why I haven’t been that upset since the 1929 Stock Market Crash!” He sniffed, “So many poor orphans…”

“Hello there!” Phalla called with a smile, staring up and walking in front of him. She greeted in Spanish. “I’m so glad you’re here to help out my friend with this new hotel! I’m a big fan of yours and just being in your presence is just…” She swooned. “Oh just take me already you cute, pompous, talk show, blueberry pimp lord!”

She embraced him and he stood stunned, his face blushing. “I do love hugs,” he whispered as she stepped back. “I bet all of you would be so nice and soft after we get to know each other for a while…”

Phalla blushed while Devil Grit and Coercia made disgusted faces. “Not gonna happen, creep,” Devil Grit said.

Rotsala gave a nervous laugh, and popped a strawberry and blueberry into his mouth.

“You’re not gonna cling to us are you?” Phallas asked. “Or, you know…”

“Dear, if I wanted to screw anyone here…I would’ve done so already.”

Rotsala tilted his head. His blue eyes briefly glowed with blue upside down radio dials in them. Electricity sparked around cyan colored voodoo symbols in the air. His eyes filled with tears, tears spilling down his pale gray cheeks.

Phalla watched in bliss, while Devil and Coercia rolled their eyes at the show-off.

Rotsala shook his head and his eyes returned to normal blue.

“No, I’m here because I want to relax and help out.”

“Say what?” Coercia asked, eyebrow raised.

Rotsala held up his staff which glowed blue. He said with a sad crack in his voice, “Goodbye, is this thing off?”

He tapped it. A blue sad looking eye appeared in the center of the microphone. It spoke in a mechanical voice. “You’re silent, quiet and unclear!”

“That’s your motivation motto every day?” Devil Grit asked, crossing his four arms. “Pathetic!”

“Tragic and mysterious, I love it!” Phalla squealed. “It’s like the opposite of announcing. It’s…denouncing.”

Devil Grit elbowed her. “Hun, could you not get attracted to every other man you see? I’m your boyfriend.”

“I can’t help it, love!” she cried. “I just get so distracted easily.”

“Um…you want to help?” Coercia asked.

Rotsala appeared behind them after morphing into light.

“With…” he spoke in her growl then his normal shy sounding voice, “…this random thing you’re trying to do. This hotel. I want to help you run it, if that’s okay.”

“Uh…why?”

Rotsala choked a bit on his words. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sheer absolute lethargy! I’ve been partying around and keeping busy for decades. I would like to do something more relaxing and easier.”

“My work became overwhelming, lacking focus. I’ve come to crave a new form of disengagement!”

Coercia rolled her eyes. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as disengagement?”

“No,” Rotsala said. “It’s violent and messy, not really my thing. Life is truly strange…reality, fantasy, true tragedy. After all the world is a grave, and the grave is a world of disengagement!”

Coercia brightened a bit. “So, does this mean you think it’s possible to taint an angel? That life is meaningless without your own self to temporarily control it.”

Rotsala sniffed and held up a hand. “Who knows? Anything’s possible. Sinning, oh the vice of humanity! I think there’s plenty left that can change such marvelous saints. But then again, the chance that was given to them was the life they lived before. The reward is this!” He spread out his arms. “According to God, there’s no undoing what is done…or at least that’s the way it should be.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t fully believe in my cause?” Coercia asked.

Rotsala turned around to look at her. “Consider it an investment in ongoing knowledge for myself and others.” He let out a small smile. “I want to watch the blessed of this world struggle to give into temptation, only to repeatedly realize and raise themselves up the golden ladder of success!” His eyes glowed blue.

“Right…” Coercia began.

“Yes indeed,” Rotsala said, both of them walking off to the side. “I see you taking risks and who better to keep you grounded than I.”

“Ah, so what’s the deal with Mr. Frown over there?” Devil Grit asked.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of him before?” Phalla asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Devil shrugged his shoulders.

“The Techno Angel, one of the most complex beings Heaven as ever seen?”

“Eh, I’m not too big on people.”

Phalla sighed and leaned in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Rotsala manifested in Heaven, seemingly in one day. He began to catch the attention of overlords and archangels who had kept to themselves for centuries. That kind of attraction and magic power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his adventures all throughout Heaven just so everyone could experience some joy, tragedy and emotions. Saints starting calling him the Techno Angel, (as unoriginal as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and constructive heroes. But one thing’s for sure: he’s an unpredictable source of silliness, a depressed spirit of mystery and a loving being of order…or disorder, the likes of which we can get involved in, especially if we want to end up aroused!”

“You done?” Devil asked. “He looks like a blueberry businessman. Or a shady con-man. Either way, you’re delusional.”

“Well, I trust him completely!”

“Do you blindly trust any man? All men?”

Phalla skipped over to Coercia. Rotsala examined a family portrait of Lucius, Lilian and a young Coercia in the center. Young Coercia wore a white dress with a turquoise top to it. Her hair was jet black, braided in black barbed wire, her cheeks had teal blushes. Her mother had long black hair and wore a fancy white dress and a round gold crown. Her father was dressed in a dress suit of white and blue, with blue and black stripes in the center below a white bow tie. He wore a large light gray top hat with a dove and a green apple on it. His cane also had a green apple on the top. Both of them were smiling, showing rows of sharp teeth, white wings folded behind them.

“Coercia, listen to me, you can believe this dreamer. He isn’t just a sad face. He’s a miracle maker, pure good! But… don’t count on him to believe in your cause. He could be tainted and rebel, but we don’t know that. He could very well side with God and your parents. And he’s most likely looking for a way to hinder everything we’re trying to do if it means following God’s rules. But still, give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

“I…” Coercia began. “…we don’t know that. Look, he’s a crying bitch, and he probably doesn’t want to change.”

Phalla put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“The whole point of your hotel is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better and people can embrace their flaws, their true selves! How can you turn someone away? You can’t. It goes against everything you’re trying to do. Everything you believe in.”

Coercia looked downcast. Her friend had a good point. She hated when people made good arguments against her. But it also gave her a chance to consider her thoughts. Phalla kept her grounded and added some cheer to her overall fake afterlife. Coercia smiled at her.

“You take care of yourself,” she said to Phalla.

“Coercia,” warned Phalla, “Unless you are serious about responsibility, do not make a promise with him!”

Demons often made deals with each other that often resulted in gaining power at the cost of one’s soul or freedom. Usually the one who initiated the deal would gain advantage. A demonic deal was bad in and of itself. Breaking an angelic promise could result in rejection, eternal torture and damnation.

“Don’t worry,” said Coercia. “I learned one thing from my dad.” She mimicked his low voice, “Ya don’t break trust with other angels!”

Coercia marched over to the Techno Angel.

“Ok Mr. Rot... You’re prissy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a too-dangerous risk. But I don’t.”

Glowing blue symbols briefly appeared around a concerned Rotsala, then vanished.

Coercia continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be themselves. After all, it’s in their nature and the sooner they realize it, the better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition there be no lessons or lovey-dovey speeches made.”

Rotsala twirled his cane and held out his smallest finger from his right hand.

“So, it’s a promise, then?”

The room was surrounded by a pink aura as light spirits roamed around the walls. The wind blew against Phalla’s and Devil’s faces.

“Nope!” Coercia yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking, no promises! I…hmmm…”

She paused in thought.

“As Princess of Heaven and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help out with this hotel for as long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Rotsala said with a slump of his shoulders and walked on. His cane vanished.

Rotsala stopped and spotted Phalla to the side.

Phalla went up and tickled him under the chin, much to his shock.

“Smile, deer man!” she said.

Rotsala walked on, speechless.

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Rotsala asked Coercia.

“Uh well,” Coercia began. Rotsala peered at Phalla through his monocle below his left eye.

He stuttered. “You’re going to n-need more than that.”

Rotsala walked over to Devil Grit, who was sitting on a stool.

“And what can I do, my business fellow?” asked Rotsala walking over to the dark furred spider, blushing.

“You can suck a dick,” Devil retorted in a grumpy tone.

“AH! Ok,” said Rotsala, blushing and stepping back. “Can it be yours?”

“Fuck off,” Devil added, pulling out a long knife from his belt.

Rotsala summoned his cane. “Well this just won’t do. You want others to cause trouble, yes? I suppose I can cash in a few favors to deaden things up!”

He snapped his fingers and the wall beside the fireplace cracked. The circle went dark, the fire going out. Ice cold water appeared to fill in the circle and a shadowy figure solely formed inside. Rotsala walked over and removed the dripping figure from the water. A large single purple eye was revealed.

Devil Grit, Phalla and Coercia peered at the creature. With a balloon deflating sound and a puff of white smoke, the figure was revealed.

“This little rascal is Klutzy!” Rotsala announced with a worried smile, dropping the figure.

A black-skinned short cyclops female landed on her face on the floor. She stood up with a grumpy look on her face. She wore a dark green skirt with a white stray cat off to the left side. Her arms and legs were white and stick-shaped. Several blue dots stood out from the lighter green color of her skirt. Her shirt was black with cyan paint spots off to the right. Her large eye took up much of her pale white face; it was dark blue with a white pupil. Her short hair was teal with a dark blue spot off to the left.

“I’m Klutzy,” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “It’s a waste of time to meet you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen strangers.”

Her pupil narrowed from side to side.

“Why are you all men?” she asked. “Have any women here? Or video games? Screw this place.”

She briefly picked up Coercia, then let go.

“Oh man, this place is boring!” she exclaimed. She ran over to a vase and proceeded to knock it over with her elbow. It shattered to pieces on the floor. She tossed couch cushions aside.

“It really needs a more manly touch, disorganized clutter’s more fun.” She grinned as she poured dirt from a flower pot onto the rug.

“Yes, yes, yep, yeah!” she yelled as she proceeded to break windows and knock down more stuff. Then she plopped down on a couch once the room was messy. “I’m bored. Make me some food or something.”

Phalla, Devil, and Coercia looked on in worry, Rotsala just stared off into space. “She has quite the temper sometimes.”

A cat angel was working on a Rubik’s cube with colleagues. His furry face was black, framed by white fur. His little top hat was white with a blue band across it. A big teal bow tie was under his neck, over his black furry chest framed by white fur. His wings were a brilliant blue, with black and red mathematical symbols on either side: the pi symbol, E = mc squared, signs for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, among others. More symbols were visible within his two pointed ears. His teeth were sharp and purple and his long eyebrows were teal. His eyes were purple and sclera white. The angel placed a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “Ha!” he declared in triumph. Read ‘em and weep, boys! Full…whoa…”

He felt himself being transported in a flash of light to the hotel. Part of the science room that the cat had been in was merged with the hotel lobby…posters of the elements, the solar system and Biblical works of art.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on?

Then he brightened when he saw Rotsala. “You!”

“Ah, Core, my old friend,” Stalaro sniffed, his head briefly looking like it was in between antlers from a stuffed deer head on the wall. “You made it.”

“Glad to see you, you son of the sun!” Core said. “I just completed my Rubik’s cube after just an hour.”

The cube vanished as Rotsala looked on.

Core raced over to Rotsala and embraced him in a side hug. The deer-like man blushed. “So, what can I help you with this time?”

Rotsala blinked nervously. “C-Can we snuggle?”

Core laughed. “I mean, seriously, why’d you bring me here?”

“My friend, I’m doing some dirty work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services. If that’s okay?”

“You must be joking,” Core said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“You thought it’d be a great idea just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I’m some kind of tragic boy?”

“Maybe,” Rotsala sighed, as crying sounds came from his microphone.

“I ain’t doing no dirty work.”

Rotsala appeared behind him. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to greet and critique the guests at this fine establishment.”

He pointed his staff off toward a stand with vegetable drinks as claps and boos sounded from his staff.

“With your grumpy cat face and love of solitude…”

Core lifted up the corners of Rotsala mouth with his paws. “Aw come on, Al, Don’t forget to smile once in a while!”

His mouth frowned once he let go.

Rotsala walked over to the stand. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can make this more interesting…if you wish.”

He conjured up a bottle of catnip with his finger.

Core stared with wide happy eyes. “What, you think you can buy me with sad eyes and some cheap catnip? Well, you can!” He purred and took the bottle with him.

Coercia, Devil, and Phalla arrived.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Phalla squealed. “Brilliant idea to have healthy drinks!”

“No!” Coercia protested. “This is supposed to be a place that encourages sin! Not some kind of, frilly, Zen, child’s play…”

Core noticed Devil Grit and slid up to him. “Hey cutie,” he flirted.

“Go screw yourself,” muttered Devil Grit.

“Only if you watch me,” Core joked. “Or more likely, Rotsala will watch you.”

Coercia leaned in close to Core. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You are going to go insane here!” She grinned, her teeth sharp.

“We’re all mad here,” Core replied, sniffing the catnip.

Rotsala walked in, an ever-present frown on his face. “S-so, what do you think?”

Rotsala ran over to him. “This is horrible!” she spat.

“It’s amazing!” Phalla beamed.

Phalla leaned in close between Coercia and Rotsala, embracing them in a hug.

“This is going to be very disengaging,” Rotsala exclaimed. Dubstep sounds emitted from his mouth as he stared around with worry. He stepped away from Phalla. “Coercia, I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you.”

Rotsala changed his light blue suit into a dark blue funeral outfit with a matching top hat. He did the same with Coercia, Devil Grit, Core, Klutzy, and Phalla, who were all wearing black clothing from the early 1900s. Coercia wore a short tan flapper dress and a round matching ladies’ hat. She and Klutzy stared at their outfits in disgust, while Devil Grit, Core and Phalla smiled as they stared at theirs. The room changed, the walls now covered with Voodoo symbols, Christian crosses and deer antlers.

“Take it boys,” Rotsala said. Light spirits appeared and played violins, a piano, and a flute in a sad symphony.

Rotsala sang his reprise to Coercia as they did a slow dance. Coercia looked annoyed but Rotsala smiled.

(“Stalaro’s lament Reprise”)

“You’re on a mission

Your innocence fell

And it’s so dangerous but hey, I wish you well

Yes your blunt protests

Will send you straight to Hell

And I can’t bear to see you banished, or your soul up to sell”

“Don’t bring your life to an end

No matter what you say, I’m still your friend

We all have our wounds to mend

And you’re vulnerable feelings are real, don’t pretend”

“Inside of every angel is love and emotion

They have values and lasting devotion (devotion to God)

While you recruit those around

Don’t be swallowed by the ground

The authorities can retrieve you tight and bound (no turning around)”

“Here above the sky

Spread your wings and fly

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Haven Ho…”

An explosion rattled the windows. Klutzy saw a door flying toward her face and she broke it in half with a karate chop.

The room and everyone’s clothing returned to normal.

Everyone looked outside and saw a podium in the air, held up by flying metallic eggs. A familiar snake debater appeared.

“Look who it is harboring the striped annoying opponent! We meet again, Rotsala!”

“Do I know you?” Rotsala asked.

Tears came to Anguis’ eyes. “Oh yes, you do! Watch this presentation!”

The eggs danced in the air, singing a song about Sir Anguis trying his best to rule Heaven. He read from notecards. “You all can’t compete with me. Your hotel sucks. I…shall…destroy it…with… my…”

Rotsala giggled and blushed. “Your baby weiner havor?”

Anguis looked up from his cards in anger. “Not like that, pervert!”

Rotsala snapped his fingers. A portal appeared and white tentacles shot out, knocking the podium off balance. The metal eggs knocked into Sir Anguis and he yelled, “Ow that hurt! Show mercy!”

Rotsala used a drop of his blood and the podium exploded in green smoke.

Sir Anguis emerged from the crater, arm shaking, fangs shattered. Rotsala waved a hand and the snake was healed.

“Shoot me with your ray gun,” said a metal egg beside him. Sir Anguis face-planted on the ground.

Rotsala looked on, sadly while everyone else stared, stunned.

“Anyone hungry?” Rotsala asked turning around. “Please don’t make me cook jambalaya. It’s way too spicy and it nearly killed me! I much prefer tea and sugared strawberries, oh the way they melt in my mouth… but anyway, you could say the kick brought me straight into Heaven.”

Rotsala lead the way back to the hotel, the group following him.

“Yes sir, new changes are about to take place. Now…”

Rotsala waved his finger at the lit up sign above the glass, gem-encrusted building on the roof.

The sign changed from “Hazbin Hotel” to “Haven Hotel.”

“Stay tuned.” He finished with low whimpers.

#2PHazbinHotel #heavenhotel #havenhotel #2p

11 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

Text

Mr. Monday

Pairing: Park Jinwoo x reader

Genre: fluff / bar au

Warnings: none

Word count: 2420

Life worked in mysterious ways.

When you took this part-time position four months ago, you had been less than pleased that you would be working in a bar most nights. Now, you found the environment suited you well. There were nights, like tonight, where it was slower and you could study in between serving punters. And even on the nights where it was hectic with endless orders and live music blared around the trendy metropolitan establishment, you had grown accustomed to enjoying it.

You could leave the shy and awkward version of yourself at the door and enjoy the loose atmosphere whilst being paid to do so.

Still, you did prefer when you could play the music you wanted to listen to and have a quiet night to spend productively.

Or, as productive as it could be once he arrived.

Every Monday, the door would jingle at eight and you would glance up, your cheeks turning pink immediately. When his eyes found yours, he would smile graciously at you, tugging off his corporate suit jacket as he approached the bar.

And like clockwork, you would have his whiskey in a glass and placed on the counter by the time he was seated before you on a barstool. He grinned. “Ever the efficient one, aren’t you Y/N?”

“Can’t have my favourite customer go without his drink for long, now can I?” you replied as you tried not to smile giddily at the way he said your name.

“Favourite customer? Wow, I’m flattered,” he gestured and then leaned in closer. “But you can do better than that, right?”

“Jinwoo,” you breathed and he bit his bottom lip in satisfaction before lifting his drink to his lips. You turned to busy yourself for a moment to ease some of the heat you knew was residing upon your face. Glancing sideways at the man now unbuttoning the cuffs links on his shirt, you tilted your head a little. “How was your day?”

“It was long so this drink is much-appreciated, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Jinwoo.”

“It had become sort of a game. Who could say the other’s name more often in one night? There weren’t many people in this world who would address you so intimately every time you spoke, who put such effort into knowing your name and caressing your soul each time he uttered it. Jinwoo was unlike all the other men who walked into this bar. He treated you as if you were special, as if he came for you instead of the whiskey he cradled in his hand.

You often fooled yourself into believing that was the reason for his stellar attendance each Monday.

There was another element to the handsome man and that was how he seemed to undress from the successful CEO to someone who felt more approachable each time. His sleeves were soon rolled up to the elbows and after another sip of his drink, he popped the first four buttons of his shirt, thankfully remaining decent due to his undershirt. Still, watching Jinwoo do all this felt like a performance and you would often end up pouring yourself a cold glass of water to calm down as he arranged the glasses over the bridge of his nose.

Once appropriately relaxed, Jinwoo would chat with you. He’d ask you how university was going, offering up an office space in his building for you to use if you needed a quiet space away from your less than accommodating roommates. You would hear about deals he had made during the week or when any projects were frustrating him endlessly. Over the past four months, you had grown accustomed to sharing the evening together every Monday, Jinwoo remaining as you closed the bar up at midnight.

“You seriously don’t need to wait, Jinwoo.”

“But I do, Y/N,” he assured with a chuckle, pointing to the outside world. “It’s too late at night for a woman to walk alone to the station.”

“What a gentleman,” you gushed and Jinwoo nodded.

“I hope I am.”

“You are,” you confirmed and once you had everything in order, you turned to the man now standing up. And as usual, he slung his jacket over your shoulders, a hand pressing into the small of your back as you headed towards the exit.

Jinwoo had started walking you to the subway station after a month of knowing one another and you always wished you had more confidence out in the brisk air. Once you closed the bar’s front doors, you seemed to return to your shy, incapable of speaking three sentences in a row self.

Jinwoo never pushed you for more, merely happy enough to walk to you to the station in comfortable silence. And each time he would sigh when you handed back his jacket, looping it through one of his arms before driving his hands into his pockets. “Another night where I farewell you here, Y/N.��

“I hope you sleep well, Jinwoo,” you blurted out, blinking rapidly as you shook your head. “I meant, when you get home, that it’s not too hard to fall asleep.”

“With you on my mind, I might stay up all night,” he teased and you swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in your throat. He chuckled and stepped closer, tenderly brushing your hair away from your forehead. He sighed again. “Sleep sweet, Y/N.”

And with that, you would depart from Jinwoo’s intoxicating grip on your heart and mind, yearning for the start of a new week to arrive again.

And it did, just like clockwork. You had the worst day leading up to your shift that you were a little flustered in the first hour at the bar, clumsily dropping a glass and shattering it on the floor right as Jinwoo arrived.

He rushed to your side as you attempted to clean it up, taking the tools out of your hands. “Let me.”

“I’m the one who works here, Jinwoo,” you mumbled, trying to reach for the dustpan and brush he had swiftly taken but he started to move as he cleaned it up.

“Yeah, well I own the place so-”

“What?” you breathed and Jinwoo snapped his focus up to you, his face flushed before he swore under his breath and continued to clean up. You merely were frozen at his side, trying to register what he meant. When Jinwoo noticed your position, he grabbed your hand, jolting you back into the world, gripping on tightly as you flinched so you didn’t lose your balance. He searched your face momentarily before smiling weakly. “Go out back and catch your breath. I’ll be there soon.”

Dazed, you nodded numbly and jarringly made your way to where he directed you to go, amazed when the man walked into the break room and out the back door as if he knew the layout of this side of the bar like the back of his hand. You blinked when he returned and reached for your hand, gently tugging you up and taking you down the corridor to the boss’s office.

You had never met the owner before; your manager had been the one to hire you. And so you had never seen the inside of this space until now, shocked when Jinwoo opened the door after punching in a code and led you in, throwing his jacket down on the back of a leather couch. After rounding the piece of furniture, he sat you both down, examining your hand closely.

“Jinwoo?”

“Mm, Y/N?”

“What is all this?” you implored, casting your gaze to your hand and then gasping.

Jinwoo smiled sadly when you noticed your small cut. “Stay here, there’s a shard of glass in there.”

Following orders, you waited until he returned with the first aid kit and his hands wrapped around yours again. For a moment, you forgot about the puzzle before you and watched as he treated the wound. Your smile grew and without thinking about it much, you reached out to his blonde locks, gently running your fingers through it. Jinwoo paused for a second, his eyes darting to yours and then back to your injury. He smiled. “We’re feeling better?”

“Maybe light-headed. I wouldn’t be so bold normally,” you murmured and he chuckled.

“I guess the surprise is enough to startle you,” Jinwoo agreed and then pasted a bandaid over your injury. He grinned. “There, almost fixed!”

“Almost?”

His lips quickly pressed to the palm of your hand, over the injury. You stilled completely, hiccupping when your shortened breath felt laboured. Jinwoo laughed heartily. “Y/N, since when were you like this?”

“Since now,” you lamented with a whine, Jinwoo grabbing the bottle of water he had carried in and handed it to you. Thanking him silently, you gulped down enough water to stop the hiccups and then grimaced. “So, you kind of own the place?”

“It’s a long story, Y/N.”

“Today’s been a long day,” you replied, sighing heavily. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s always been policy for me to check how my staff members serve the clientele. Since I’m not in the office at night, I would come in as a guise and test the newbies out. However, you were not what I expected in the slightest.”

“I wasn’t very good?”

Jinwoo shook his head. “You made me feel at home. Funnily enough, I should feel that way already since it’s my own establishment. However, the first time I encountered you, I forgot I was here to check up on you. I had too good of a time.”

He stood up then, running a hand through his hair. “So I came back the following Monday. And from there, it kind of stuck. I didn’t know how to tell you who I was when you had painted me as some fancy CEO or corporate guy, Y/N.”

“Hey!” you cried with a shake of your hand. “That’s on you! You told me you had to work on deals for your products and delegate new staff changes…”

Your argument fell flat when you realised how easily that could apply to the bar. Lowering your head, you pouted. “But you wear a suit…”

“Ah, how I look? My Dad always told me to dress to impress and that a man with a business needed a fine suit. I can see where that kind of threw you.”

“We both threw each other.”

“I’ve been honest with you, you don’t have to worry that I have led you astray, Y/N.”

“Except for the whole boss thing.”

Jinwoo nodded again. “To be fair, I didn’t want to be your boss.”

“What?”

Sitting back down next to you, Jinwoo chewed on his lip as he deliberated his next sentence. “Who wants to be the boss of someone you like? I fell harder for you by the end of every Monday night. I guess the reason I never came clean about owning the place was that I didn’t want you to think less of me. Now I’m your boss and you’re my employee. It kind of changes things in your mind, huh?”

“Does it have to?” you wondered aloud, Jinwoo looking at you in surprise. “You make my Mondays feel better than any other day of the week. I really don’t want to lose that.”

“I don’t either.”

“You’re right though, I can’t just pretend I don’t know you pay my wage each week though,” you said and Jinwoo’s expression softened.

“So don’t.”

“Jinwoo, how can we have both? It either looks like favouritism if I start dating the boss or-”

You knew he wasn’t thinking when his lips came down on yours, and you decided to join Jinwoo with uncaring in the moment, kissing him back with demand. You had fantasised about this moment all too long, wondering how soft his lips actually were. You were surprised to feel a little bit of their roughness, but it only made the moment more real for you. Kissing Jinwoo felt like you had reached another level in your little game together and you didn’t want to stop; even when you were certain he had effectively stolen your breath away.

Jinwoo pulled back regretfully, only to press his forehead into yours as he caught his breath. “You are my favourite, Y/N.”

“See, this is reason why-”

“But let’s keep Mondays how they are,” he pleaded, looking at you intensely. “I love Mondays with you.”

“Can we?” you breathed and Jinwoo nodded immediately. You smiled. “What about the other days?”

He faltered, his brows furrowing together. You giggled. “Jinwoo, you can’t kiss me and then think I’ll accept Mondays as the only day we experience this kind of connection.”

“You want to date me? Really Y/N?” His face broke out into the widest grin, unchecked and genuinely excited. “Because I’d love that.”

“I thought you might.”

“Will I still be your favourite?” he asked cheekily as he pulled back enough to cup your face in his hands. “Maybe not your favourite customer though.”

“My favourite boyfriend?”

“I feel like a teenager again, you’re making me feel too giddy,” he confessed and you giggled, nodding in agreement. “Of course, we’ll have to face the whole, boss part in this predicament. However, there are a lot of people out there dating their boss.”

“You’re painting this as a plausible picture.”

“Hey, it’s not illegal for someone to turn up off the clock to the place he owns just because there’s a really cute bartender he wants to see.”

“Some might consider that a conflict of interest, Jinwoo.”

“I only care what you think about it, Y/N,” he rebutted, waiting to see what you would say next.

Smiling, you leaned in closer. “The only type of favouritism I expect is that you only go around kissing me when my shift is over. Whilst I’m on the clock, we’re strictly business.”

“Okay, deal. But only if you let me take you home every night you work,” Jinwoo stipulated and you laughed. He shook his head. “I’m serious, I hate walking you to the station. Let me walk you up to your front door too.”

“You’re trouble, Mr. Monday.”

“I think I’m worth it, don’t you?” Jinwoo cheekily questioned and you pecked his lips lightly.

“Can I call in sick for my shift? I know it’s short notice but I don’t think I can be very productive tonight.”

“Done. Want to go on a date with me instead?” Jinwoo offered and you laughed as you nodded.

“Maybe there are perks to dating the boss.”

_________________

[ASTRO Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

125 notes · View notes

bittybattybunny · 4 years ago

Photo

It’s still the 5th on the west coast it 100% counts

Day five! In anotehr Au’s Clothes!!! You actually.. can’t see Ru well at all. he’s in the outfit he wears for Triassic Planet and Eclipse is sporting her look from the Tangled AU (end outfit)

Ficlet time~! This one’s a lil long sorryyyyy

“Don’t you look smart,” She teased as the ghost fixed the cuff sleeve with an annoyed huff.

“Ever since they lost their disguise, that nth dimension shifter keeps making weird requests,” he grumbled as he reached to mess with his hair.

“Come here I’ll put it up.” she grinned holding the bright blue hair tie.

He sighed and shifted, kneeling a tiny bit as she combed his hair. He leaned into her hand as she did, causing her to laugh.

“Prince! I can’t fix it if you just go soft!” she snickered.

“I’m sorry I like the sensation.” he huffed as she began to gather the unruly curls, “Your claws are nice when you comb it.” he admitted, “like when you play with Snatcher’s mane.” he felt his face glow as he thought about it.

“Yeah?” she paused and pursed her lips, “I guess then at least they have a decent use other than ripping rifts.” she snickered.

“Or cutting wolves.” He added with a laugh.

“Or cutting perverted nooses.”

“I asked them to knock it off.” he sighed, “Are they still making comments?”

“Not at me but I overheard them talking to Hattie.” she huffed. She finished pulling his hair up, “there we go!” she beamed.

He stood up and brushed a strand off his shoulder, “Thank you. Normally I don’t mind it loose but I feel this weird outfit needs it out of the way. I just…” he scowled, “Have a lot of hair.”

“You do!” she laughed, “But it’s pretty and soft~!”

He covered his face embarrassed, “Not as nice as yours… mines just….” he sighed. “I sometimes wish I wasn’t a shade.”

“Oh?” she asked curiously.

“I.... normally I’m fine with it but some days…” He looked at her and gripped his chest, “If we met when I was alive…” he sighed and shook his head.

“Maybe we have!” she laughed as she went to open the garment bag Craft had left for her, “I wouldn’t know! I have no memories of my past! Well. I have bits and parts. And Papa said I am two years younger than you! And I’m from Solgario! So maybe we did!”

She frowned, “How.. Do I even put this on?” she pulled out the gown that shimmered with silvers and blues. She frowned, “Prince what do I do with this?”

He choked a bit looking at it, “Are they being funny?!” he shifted to help fully remove the intricate gown with a shocked expression, “T-This is a royal gown?!”

“Oh?” she tilted her head, “So they want me to dress like a princess?” she scrunched her nose, “are they mocking you?”

“I wonder….” he scowled with a heavy sigh and hung his head, “I can help you put it on. I used to help Vanessa sometimes.”

She turned a bit red, “Mmhm… I just… I don’t think---?!?!” she huffed as he pinched and pulled on her cheek with a scowl, “I-I’m not being negative!!!”

“You were going to say you don’t think you fit a princess weren’t you?” he huffed, “What. Have. I. Said.” he scolded.

He let go and she rubbed the spot tenderly with a pout, “But I’m just an idiot wolf…”

“A very pretty idiot wolf.” he smiled. Looking at the gown again he sighed, “Come on, sooner we show them the outfits sooner we can put our normal clothing back on.”

He knew he was blushing as he looked at the outfit, “I… want to see you in it… we can even take a picture for Snatcher…” he chewed his knuckle as he thought about it, “Shame they had me dressed as a scientist… If I was in my normal outfit the two...of...us…would maybe…. Look...like a...” he shook his head and gave a loud laugh, “Anyhow let’s get this over with!”

“R-Right!” she huffed as she looked at it. She frowned as she began to strip down to her underwear, the grey stretchy material clinging to her as she took the gown, “Do I go under the skirt or?” she huffed.

“It’s in parts.” he helped shift it, “we’ll put this underskirt on first. Just step into it,” he explained.

She nodded taking it to pull it up and frowned, “this is going to be a pain to move in!” she fretted.

“Yeah…. Our clothing was more for showing status than moving. I hated my formal clothing. My casual was odd but I could at least run.” he laughed.

“Even with the heels?” she asked innocently, causing him to turn yellow and look away. She giggled as he handed her the next part, “Undershirt?”

“Yes.” He helped with the strings in the back, “Corset is next…. Have you worn one before?”

“Only costume ones for Craft.” she flinched when his cold hand touched her waist as he helped with the shirt. She felt her face grow hot, “S-Sn.. I mean, so how many layers is this?”

“Looks like they simplified it so about 3ish.” he admitted as he unlaced the corset, “Arms up. This may hurt a little since you’re unused to it. Gods know Vanessa despised the corset some days but it’s needed to help the gown stay up.”

She gulped and did as instructed. She tensed as he moved behind her, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Alright. Brace.” he grit his teeth and pulled on the laces. She squeaked as it tightened and gasped.

He scowled, “yeah I know. I’ve worn one too.”

She gave a small laugh as he finished tying it up and patted her back.

“All set.” he huffed. He stared at her as she stood in the undergarments and corset. Even though he’d seen her in her underwear plenty of times, normally when forcing her to wash her clothes, he couldn’t help turning a bright yellow as his eyes trailed the dip in her side as the corset fit her. She turned around and he yelped as he accidentally looked right down. He forgot corsets did that.

He coughed to regain his composure, “O-Okay let’s put the actual gown bit on.”

He took the outfit and noticed his shaking hands, “A-arms up.” he instructed. He just needed to finish getting her dressed, then he’d be fine. Right?

She huffed arms up as he helped pull it over her head. She fixed her hair, letting the silver fluff behind her as she moved to fix the sleeves and such. She looked at herself with a small frown, “Hrmph.”

Snatcher could only look at her a little slack jaw, he covered his mouth and looked away, “it fits.”

“Mmhm. Well, Craft knows my siz---”

“No I mean… it fits... You… you look good…” he covered his mouth as he looked at her shyly. He moved closer walking around her. He knelt in front of her with a smile and took her hand kissing it lightly. “You look amazing, my lunar princess.” he smiled.

She turned bright red, the shorter parts of her hair fluffing up in shock at his gesture, “S-Sn--Stop T-Teasing me!” she gasped when he stood up and scooped her up. She yelped and gripped his shirt as she looked up at him with wide eyes. She buried her face in his shoulders with a pout.

He laughed as he spun around holding her, “I guess that nth shifter has some good ideas….”

“Typically.” Craft leaned in the treehouse, leaning on a patchwork covered hand, “Glad to see it fits.” they smirked, “Too bad Snatcher isn’t here.” they sneered looking right at the ghost.

Snatcher scowled a bit as he set Eclipse down.

She huffed, “H-He’d tease me more than P-Prince does!”

“I’d say he’d most likely get the ghost version of turned on. Or I hope he does.” the shifter pulled up into the house and dusted off. They walked around both, before giving a proud smirk, “God I am good!” they laughed.

“Are you?” snatcher scowled.

“Well, judging from the color on both your faces, mission semi accomplished. But considering ‘Snatcher’ isn’t here then it’s another failure.” they sighed.

“W-What does that mean?!” the prince tensed up angrily.

“Oh nothing.” the shifted huffed and took Eclipse’s hands spinning her to see how the gown behaved, “Hrm. maybe this fabric is too heavy. I want it to flow a bit more when she dances.”

“Maybe you aren’t dancing right.” Snatcher sighed and stood beside them. He held a hand out which Eclipse took with a laugh. “You’re a nine-foot pile of ooze. Let me dance with her.”

“I think it’s heavy.” she admitted, “I don’t mind layers but.” she huffed, “I can’t move like I want to.”

She held the prince’s hands as he began to dance with her, gown flowing with their movements, “See? Moves fine with traditional dancing.” he huffed.

The shapeshifter frowned, hand up to their face in thought, “Hrm. Yeah but I still want more flow. I want it almost like she’s underwater with how it ripples.” they scratched the back of their head and removed their hood with a sigh.

“I don’t think you can do that with this style dress, Craft.” She laughed as she danced. She felt her foot catch the rug and gasped as she fell into the ghost’s chest causing them both to flush. She pulled away and fixed her hair with a small squeak.

Craft watched and sighed again shaking their head back and forth, “Well. I’ve never backed down from a challenge!” they grinned, 7 eyes alight with mirth, “Just you wait! Anyhow, thanks for wearing them again!” they pulled their phone out, “Hold still.”

The two smiled as the shifter snapped a photo and put their phone away, “Alright I am gonna head back to Birdopolis, Connie dear is going to blow a gasket if I’m not on set again. Honestly it’s not like the owls WEAR most the costumes I make. They just DRESS like that...” the ink on their features shifted as they took human form and kissed Eclipse’s cheek, “Enjoy taking the outfit off as much as on.” they teased before heading out in a flurry of feathers.

She stood there slack jaw, “W-what does that mean?! C-Craft!?” She shouted in a huff. She stared at the sky where the owl-shaped shapeshifter had already vanished from view. She gave a heavy sigh before she turned to see Snatcher holding his face.

“Ah.. Did the prince leave?” she tilted her head with a pursed expression.

The ghost fluffed up, “Y-Yeah. Had something to do…” he lied and used his tail to hide the discarded clothing he’d slithered out of in his shock.

She sighed but made a small noise when the ghost touched her cheek. She gave a small smile, “Do you like it?” she asked leaning into his hand.

He grinned and kissed her cheek, “You look decent.” he cackled.

“I’ll take it.” she laughed.

#RuClipse Month 2020 #ahit snatcher #ahit fan character #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #ahit au #ahit #a hat in time #Fanart #digital #colors #themoonguardianandthelostprince #i 100% cheated the bg since they are in his house and he has limited furniture heh #im only late cuz i was working on the jelly belly au and rping dinosaurs with gin #i did make her a sona as well!!!

24 notes · View notes

sandalaris · 4 years ago

Note

DVD Commentary A: Lesson in Navigation - The End of Chapter 5? Starting with: "She wakes to the sounds of the shower running and an empty bed across the room." (it may be slightly longer than 500 words, but only by like 60, don't cut off this line: "It reminds her a little of the way he'd case a potential score, half-lost in the calculations and newly revealed details, and she fights a shiver, looking away as she ties her laces and stands." cause it's one of my favorites)

A. Send me any passage of 500 words or less from any fanfic I’ve written, and stick that selection in my ask. I will then give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what’s going on in the character’s heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you’d expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

She wakes to the sounds of the shower running and an empty bed across the room. There’s a pounding behind her eyes, a physical protest against the late night and too short hours of restless sleep, and an irritation at the world under her skin.

This was a mixture between my personal dislike of developing a crush, because it feels awful in the beginning and I don’t get anyone who says they like feeling that way, and my being convinced that Kate didn’t sleep well after her realization the night before that led to Kate waking up cranky and with a headache from a bad night’s sleep.

Not gonna lie, I’m a little proud of the line “an irritation at the world under her skin.” I made a point not to cut it when my editing almost reworded it in such a way that it didn’t work.

She wants to roll over and escape back into unconsciousness for a few more hours but the digital clock beside her tells her its already well into late morning. Her stomach grumbles in hungry protest as Kate slips from the bed, blinking groggily in the muted light from the curtained window.

I probably spent way too long trying to figure out exactly what time motels stop serving breakfast, especially when I didn’t even specify what time it actually was that Kate woke up, but that’s a big part of writing, doing a bunch of research you never actually use. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the timeline so that I could stick as close to canon as I could, and I needed it to be late enough that they wouldn’t arrive at Uncle Eddie’s too soon but also wouldn’t have to skip out eating. Parts of the breakfast scene were already written and I really didn’t want to have to chuck them all and make them eat in the car.

The shower turns off and Seth appears a few minutes later clad in boxers and pulling his undershirt on over his head.

Seth was always going to come out in some kind of clothes, but I did amuse myself with the idea of writing him coming out in a towel and a flustered Kate grumpily dealing with that.

It’s such a small thing, I doubt anyone’s noticed or cares that much, but I try very hard to only call Seth’s white tanks “undershirts.”

Lingering patches of moisture glue the thin material along the lines of his chest and torso and Kate’s eyes catch and stick for a moment, a faint echo of heat pulsing low in her stomach.

Because now that Kate’s realized she’s attracted to him, she's going to notice such things in a way she didn’t quite before. And Seth seems like the kind of guy to not fully dry off before pulling some of his clothes back on (but not all, because pants on damp skin doesn’t work). They’ve also developed quite a bit of casual intimacy with each other by the time season two starts, and coming out in what is essentially his underwear falls under that.

I was also wanted to touch on the idea that Kate finds her feelings/attraction to him a bit inconvenient. Not only does she have to deal with everything else going on in her life, she’s now distracted by Seth in a damp undershirt and runs the risk of being caught staring.

I’m also asexual and do not understand the appeal of visual stimuli in a purely sexual context. I read a lot various slowburn romances dealing with sexual attraction in hopes that I could get Kate’s physical attraction/noticing of Seth across in this and the chapters following. I know this is just a short line, but “a faint echo of heat pulsing low in her stomach” was practically agonized over as I tried to figure out if that was something that was plausible. *shrug* It’s easier to imagine/write about when there’s touching and/or emotions involved.

He pauses when he sees her, gaze flicking down to her bare feet before coming back up to her sleep mussed hair.

“Sleeping Beauty finally wakes,” he greets almost cheerfully and Kate scowls at him.

It’s a cliche and I don’t care, Seth one-hundred percent noticed her wearing his shirt and only his shirt, especially with her just-out-of-bed hair. He’s also more than a little amused by Kate’s sleepy state, because sleepy people are adorable and you can’t convince me otherwise.

The fandom refers to Kate as a Disney princess enough that I just had to put a reference in as well. :P And Seth will take a teasing opportunity when it presents itself, especially after last night and her new awareness of him. And I’m stopping there because I do have his version of this scene written and I don’t want to spoil everything that’s going through his head.

And of course, grumpy!Kate.

Seth, she’d discovered shortly into their life on the road, is a morning person. Even when hungover he’s able wake-up fairly alert and ready to get moving, while Kate has always needed time to shed the lingering effects of sleep. “Get dressed. Breakfast ends in forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah yeah,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes as she heads towards the now vacant bathroom.

I took most of that from canon and just expanded on it a bit. We only see him wake up the once, but he definitely got up and got moving really quickly. It wasn’t much to decide that he’s a morning person.

She finds her clothes folded haphazardly on the bathroom counter, pausing with a flash of muted embarrassment at the sight of her underwear sitting on top of her jeans.

It amused me to think of Seth catching sight of Kate’s clothes on the shower and then having to pull them down and poorly folding them. Just the domesticity of it, of sharing a living space with another person and all those little things that you end up doing/seeing. But it also takes on a different, more embarrassing context when you like someone and you realize they’ve seen your bra and panties sitting out.

It’s ridiculous, Seth must have seen every article of clothing she owns at some point or another, either when doing laundry or because life in one room motels doesn’t leave a lot of space for modesty, but there’s something about knowing he had to pull her delicates down from the top of the shower curtain that leave her self-conscious and eyeing the simple faded green cotton critically.

I was thinking of those moments when you run into your crush and suddenly you’re thinking about how your shirt still has that coffee stain from this morning or how messy you’re desk/apartment/workspace/etc looks and just becoming suddenly self-conscious of how they are taking in you and your stuff. And again, the whole he saw her bra and panties thing and then had to move them out of the way.

She shakes it off, brushing her teeth and using the restroom quickly before pulling on her panties and jeans.

I’ll admit, this line was mostly because I didn’t want to forget that these are people and they need to do basic human things like use the restroom.

Her shirt from the day before is full of weird wrinkles and her bra still too damp from where the lightly padded cups absorbed their fair share of water and she hesitates only a moment before shoving them both in the plastic shopping bag.

Part of this was an excuse to get Kate in Seth’s shirt for a bit longer (for reasons), although the bra part was more inspired because I noticed Kate wears bras with slight padding and I know they can take too long to dry.

Folding the sleeves of Seth’s shirt up to her elbows and removing the smudges of make-up from below her eyes go a long way to making her look presentable, but she still morns the loss of her few cosmetics and face wash. Or god, even a hairbrush, running her fingers through her hair only does so much.

I hadn’t entirely realized the implications of Kate and Seth running into Carlos right after their dinner and then having to flee until the conversation Kate had with Sonja in the parking lot. (I’m a pantser, I set write something and then think about the consequences after :P) In the first draft, Seth didn’t come back with anything after getting a room so there was no bag or Tylenol for Kate’s headache or toothbrushes. But he also didn’t get much, and I wanted to show the consequences of running with virtually nothing and how much you miss the little things.

Seth’s brows knit together when he sees her, but he doesn’t comment.

Seth and seeing her wearing his damn shirt and the statement it implies... yeah...

He watches her though, throwing on his suit jacket and buttoning it closed as Kate pulls on her socks and shoes, something thoughtful and a bit intense behind his eyes. It reminds her a little of the way he'd case a potential score, half-lost in the calculations and newly revealed details, and she fights a shiver, looking away as she ties her laces and stands.

Seth is a strategist guy, and when he’s casing a job he’s figuring out angles and how to best approach. He knows how to work the job, how to study all the pieces and get everything set up to give himself the best possible outcome. Its a rather focused look he has, his attention devoted on gathering as much information as he can and working out the steps he’ll need to take. Not to imply that Kate is something he's going to steal (although he kind of already did that) or that he’s got some grand master plan here, but rather this newly discovered (on her part) possibility between them and the statement she’s subconsciously implying and just this shift in their relationship... there’s a strategy to courtship and Seth knows strategy.

“C’mon,” she mutters, shoving what little possessions they have into the bottom of her bag. “I’m hungry.”

I’ll be entirely honest, I struggled way too much with how to end this scene. I swear that line gave me more trouble than the rest of the scene combined.

#my writing #asked and answered #sethkate

12 notes · View notes

cyprinoides · 4 years ago

Text

romeo et juliette costumes

at some point people on the retj discord were talking abt how the costumes are just chucked somewhere in the time space continuum and now I’m apparently analysing where in time those costumes are from so read my findings under the cut

ok so first up we have Guilietta’s white dress from the dvd version.

if we’re going by decade I’d say her dress is 1800s esque because it appears to be made of light, delicate fabric and has a long skirt train. As well as this, the silhouette is slender and the 1790s were a transition period from the wigs and bum rolls so by the 1800s, the silhouette was different. idk if you can see it in the photo but the waist is high and the bodice is short which was also typical for the decade. Of course, there’s many aspects of this costume that doesn’t match up, for example there is no corset and no sleeves. Corsets were still very much a thing as it gave u the nice waist, supported women’s upper bodies and helped their posture (as opposed to the belief that D: corsets bad it crush my ribs :,( bc that was men shitting on women’s fashion choices, a thing that occurred again when the crinoline was introduced) and sleeves were generally elbow length. I’m not even gonna talk about hair or makeup or whatever because that would be d i f f i c u l t

next we got mercuzio also with the dvd costume

alright so i’d place this one like early 1830s somewhere in Europe idk. During this time people were getting a bit more flamboyant with fancy patterns and layered fabric because imported fabric was chic and cool which I guess is represented in this costume (??) Anyway, the collar is high and the waist is cinched which resembles the silhouette for men basically throughout the 1800s, the only differences being length of coats and position of the waist. In the 1830s, the waist was low but still higher than ur natural waist which is the same case in this costume. u cant see it very clearly but the edges of the shirt is padded which also happened in the 1830s but was more common with the hem of women’s dresses.

in this photo you can see that the trousers are long and bunched at the ankles and the sleeve is thicc at the shoulder which are both accurate to the decade. Now for inaccuracies, uhh there’s only 1 sleeve and he’s wearing a belt which were only created in the 1900s. Also, its a bit too slutty for lack of better explanation and he kinda looks like what movies tell you pirates wore (altho jack sparrows costume from pirates of the Caribbean was tailored to johnny depp’s imagination and flamboyant tendencies).

now we have 2010 Juliette’s costume

I honestly don’t really know but if I had to place it I think her dress is late 1830s in western europe - there was so much shit going on in that decade so early 1830s and late 1830s are hella different. Firstly, the waist is in the natural position which only came to fashion in the late 1830s and the bodice is pointy. Also I think her dress was floor length ish which would’ve been accurate but i can’t remember lmao. Also, its minimalist both in design and colour and has narrow, long sleeves which was a result of Queen Victoria coming to rule in 1837 and making modesty and minimalism cool. And for inaccuracies... there is no corset or big skirt and crinoline and the sleeves are off shoulder ???

onto 2010 and tour Meructio’s costume (the coat stuff goes for Romeo and Benvolio’s long coats as well btw)

Aight so this costume is pretty 1830s but specifically French. The coat resembles the greatcoat - which was a coat for being awesome and to be worn over ur other stuff and another tailcoat or waistcoat - because of the length and lining. The trousers are long and bunched at the ankle which hints at early 1830s and before u ask I’m not gonna talk about colour either because Im lazy lmao. The polo underneath may seem inaccurate at first but it could pass as what men of that time considered to be part of their under wear (similar to a woman’s chemise). The length of the sleeves is correct and the wrists are cinched (altho you cant see it in this picture but look at a video of je reve or smth and you’ll see) the cuffs of the shirt are also longer than the coat and when they’re longer than standard they were considered as ‘french cuffs’.

here’s a photo of typical french 1830s greatcoats before I get into the inaccuraces. Alright so men’s coats - as you can see in the above picture) have volume to the skirt because that was the in fashion silhouette at the time but in the costume it is flat, the belt is there to perhaps give the waist shape but belts weren’t invented in the 1830s and the position of the belt is lower than men’s clothes were waisted at the time. Moving onto the shirt, it should have ruffles and the collar should be up and the sleeve hole where the shoulders are attached were very low in the 1830s so as to fit beneath coat sleeves but as you’ll notice (if you find another photo where he’s not wearing the coat) the shoulder is not that low. As well as this there’s no cravat and although the sleeves are the correct length in the coat, it has a rly big triangle cut? Also, since the shirt would’ve been considered as underlayers, it was scandalous and improper for those to be seen in public (but does it really count as an inaccuracy if its kinda in character?)

And now we have 2010 and tour Tybalt costume

This costume is 1830s Britain i guess??? So the coat resembles a sporting coat because of the length which was generally around knee height because you’d be hunting or riding horses and stuff in it. British hunting coats in particular were commonly red (I know its bc Capulets but it supports my fashion analysis) so you wouldn’t accidentally shoot ur friend when your out hunting in the woods together. Again the trousers are the right length for the 1830s and the shirt would be the underlayers. The shirt buttons are also the correct size for that time and the weird back collar thing was common for coats bc they were warm and were like very mini capes. And altho that thing on his waist looks weird it could actually be considered as a cummerbund which served the some of the same purposes as women’s corsets but was smaller - here’s a photo of a period accurate one

inaccuracy time! there are no buttons on the coat and no snatched waist. I don’t really want to write it again but its the same case with the shirt and the collar as Mercutio’s costume although in Tybalt’s costume the collar is buttoned up all the way so it looks higher and resembles more 1820s undershirts meaning that the lack of ruffles would be accurate.

And that’s all for now maybe I’ll make a part 2. Hope you enjoyed and plz help me figure out when all these costumes are

#retj #romeo et juliette #romeo e guilietta #juliette #mercutio #tybalt #fashion #fashion history #retj costume

22 notes · View notes

efrmellifer · 4 years ago

Text

FFxivWrite ‘20, Twenty-Three

Prompt: Shuffle, during Heavensward, 1,845 words (this could be considered a non-canon spiritual successor to Entry Eleven from the Wondrous Tails event)

Drinks were already on the table, ready when they were due to arrive, armored and bundled against an especially cold night.

Etien was the first to get to Camp Dragonhead (without already having been there, of course), with no knight’s responsibilities to keep her behind and running late.

Haurchefant had been called from the room to tend to some matter one of the younger knights had needed help with, so when he returned to find Etien seated, spreading out the cards, turning them over and doing tricks, he was a little surprised.

“Eager, are we?”

“Tataru gets the taverns, Alphinaud eavesdrops on the high houses’ gossip, and I get to see what the knights get up to in their free time,” she explained, examining her nails. “Not to mention that I enjoy the company of all three of you.”

“I can only apologize more of us couldn’t join in.”

“Such as?” she asked, folding her hands and resting her chin atop them.

“Oh, I don’t know. Corentiaux, Lucia, maybe some of the dragoons.”

Etien grinned, teeth glimmering in the lower light. “I don’t mind us keeping it small. More intimate that way.”

Haurchefant couldn’t hide the little giggle that bubbled up his throat at that. “You, my friend, must be careful saying things like that. Intimacy. Next, they’ll say you touch a gentleman's hand without gloves.”

She thought about the layers of leather and armor and thick fabric that had been barriers against even the most chaste of touches.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched someone outside of maybe supporting them after a battle.

Nothing came to mind. She wanted to, though, wanted to feel the warmth of a cheek against her palm, or the brush of fingers through her hair.

She had a preferred partner for that sort of thing, if ever she could be so blessed. Despite her intentions not to, she’d looked��stared, even, if the quick, hungry gaze could be called that—at the fingerless gloves giving way to fingertips Etien would give just about anything to kiss even if only once. Though she wondered, didn’t he ever get cold?

Hells, she’d have to kiss his fingertips to stave off frostbite.

She wondered a lot, not just about the kissing issue, but why the gloves were fingerless at all. Did it increase his grip on his sword? She needed her fingers free for bowstrings and lyre-plucking, but even she either cut holes in them or added leather with extra friction.

She didn’t suppose she would ever have a good reason to ask, it wasn’t as though she could simply say—

“Oh, hello, Aymeric.” She tried to keep her voice light as she gathered up the cards she’d been playing with, scrabbling for her drink—oh gods damn, Haurchefant had added port to the chocolate.

Well, this was probably the best group for her to be drinking around; she could trust them even if the drink really was intoxicating.

When Etien had put her cup down, Aymeric greeted her, followed with an “Enjoying that?”

She nodded. “I hadn’t expected the wine, but it’s a nice touch.”

“Ah, I had meant to warn you,” Haurchefant interjected. “Mine apologies.”

She waved it away with a sunny smile. “Estinien coming soon?”

“He was only a few steps behind me,” Aymeric commented, looking towards the door. “So I would think so.”

The door opened, Estinien shaking snow from his hair.

“I would think it would be warmer, if snow was on the way,” Etien said with a little tint of confusion.

“It is not snowing,” Estinien grumbled. “Someone being careless with their Chocobo ran into a tree I was standing under.”

“Is everyone all right?”

“The Chocobo trotted off unscathed, but without its rider. I made my way here as fast as I could.”

“Ah,” resounded from Aymeric, Etien, and Haurchefant.

“So what are the rules tonight?” Etien asked as she lifted the cards again.

The three men shared a look among them. Something had sparked in Haurchefant’s eyes, but Aymeric looked hesitant and Estinien impassive. But no one seemed to disagree with whatever he was suggesting.

“Light armor, no other outerwear,” he said finally.

Etien shrugged off the draping cloak she had on, and unlooped her scarf from around her neck, laying it on the table next to her.

“No helmet, Estinien?” Aymeric asked.

“None of you have one; it seemed unfair if we were playing from armor.”

“Unfair to us, or you?” Etien asked, fiddling with her effects spread around her. She straightened her cup, refolded her scarf, fidgeted with her gloves.

“That depends. I hear you’re becoming a mean hand at cards these days.”

“I’m learning from the best,” she replied.

Haurchefant beamed as he sat down. “Would you like to shuffle, Etien?”

She nodded, scooping up the cards and shuffling them. “I didn’t intend to choose the game, one of you three can choose.”

She kept shuffling the deck as the Elezen debated the merits of a few common card games, or whether specific versions of the games were fair to play with someone who was still so new at the games themselves.

Eventually, they decided on one, and Etien passed the deck over to Haurchefant to cut. He tapped it. “I have no idea where you would have learned to count cards, so I think that won’t be necessary.”

She started to deal.

When she lost the first hand, she shrugged, popping open the clasp of her top, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it drape over the back of her chair.

She was more careful after that, cards close to her chest, playing with caution. And so a few hands passed by, hands she made it through with no trouble.

“I think I prefer this method,” Estinien commented, sipping at his drink while Aymeric tried to slip out of his coat gracefully while still seated. “I don’t lose any gil.”

“Good thing our clothing does not make the pot, then,” Aymeric responded.

Etien laughed softly. “it is, though I would love this,” she added, rubbing the blue material of the shed coat between her fingers. “So pretty. Is it comfortable?”

“I used to find it heavy,” he replied, attempting to be casual. “I have since gotten used to it. Are yours?”

“Comfortable enough. Not too heavy.” She gestured behind her, to the discarded boots. “Getting those on over the bottoms can be difficult, though.”

“It must keep your legs plenty protected,” Haurchefant commented, eyes on his cards. “I fear I must fold this hand.”

He kicked off his breeches, sitting down again. “What have we on, friends?”

Etien piped up first. “My undershirt and my field bottoms. And my socks. And my smalls, of course.”

“Good to know you wear them,” Estinien snorted, huffing harder when Aymeric elbowed him. “Ow. Breeches, gauntlets, my shirt. Everything under that.”

Haurchefant looked to Aymeric. “I still have everything on but my coat,” he responded.

“Guess that would mean you’re winning,” Etien said, draining her mug of port-and-chocolate.

“Certainly, because I would seem to be the least-dressed of us,” Haurchefant said, matter-of-fact. “Play on, friends! I shall watch eagerly.”

The trio laid their cards out.

“That would be impressive, Etien,” Estinien began, “but it doesn’t beat this four of a kind. Aymeric?”

“All I have is a straight.”

Etien stood, shimmying out of her bottoms and taking her seat again. “Who’s dealing now?”

“I’ll do it,” Aymeric said, holding his hand out for the cards. Everyone handed them over, and as he shuffled the deck, letting Etien cut it, Haurchefant stoked the fire.

“We cannot let her get cold, so unused to the Coerthan clime,” he explained, though he hadn’t needed to. All three of them could see Etien starting to shiver in only her shirt and tall wool socks.

Cards spread over the table, chatter accompanying them.

Just as everyone looked up from their cards, Aymeric happened to notice Etien’s ears flatten.

Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention before, but now that he had noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It was unfair to play cards with someone who, no matter how well she coached her facial expressions, would be given away by involuntary body language.

She clearly thought her hand wasn’t good enough to get her through the game still in her shirt. She was already shivering. Something had to be done.

“I-I fold,” he said.

“Surely your hand cannot be so bad that you would drop out immediately!” Haurchefant cried out.

“No, I assure you, it is,” he lied, standing and peeling away his shirt. That wasn’t so bad. It was like training. Though usually he was a little warmer then...

He ignored the blush rising to his cheeks when he caught Etien’s eyes on him, but at least she looked a little more relieved. And it did serve to warm him.

When she, Estinien and Haurchefant laid their cards out, he scanned over them all before anyone had spoken.

Estinien’s three of a kind would have him losing those gauntlets, especially when Etien’s straight hand had only just edged him into last place.

Still, when she’d handed over her cards, Etien’s hands came to her upper arms, trying to rub some warmth back into them.

“Haurchefant, maybe we should end it here, I’m freezing.”

“One more?” he pleaded. “Besides, I think Aymeric has half a mind to keep you warm. Give her your coat,” he instructed, getting ready for a new hand.

Etien accepted the cards, tucking her tail under her leg and scratching at her ears, trying to disguise any movement they made.

So her sound thrashing with an utter bum hand of only Thordan-high had her sighing heavily, especially up against Haurchefant’s full house (including a pair of Flavien de Fortemps cards, no less), Estinien’s four of a kind, and Aymeric’s royal flush.

That flush became far more literal as Etien shrugged back his coat and her fingers curled around the hem of her shirt.

She peeled it away, breaking into gooseflesh. “If we go much further than this, we really will be getting in trouble,” she said with a giggle.

“We… would do nothing of the sort,” Estinien replied. “I think I have had enough of cards. Seeing you like that is giving me a chill.”

He had found his voice, but Aymeric had not, eyes practically boring holes into the discarded cards strewn about the table.

Haurchefant was busying himself adding another log or two to the fire, and getting Etien something hot to drink. He had to get her warmed up again, at the very least. And so he occupied himself with that, even though he could tell from the growing tension in the room that he wasn’t only one who wanted to do so, though with very different method in mind.

And he had hoped this would spur Aymeric into action. Especially with how cute Etien looked, all curled up in his coat. She looked good in that shade of blue. Pity.

Haurchefant would just have to keep goading them, then.

#FFXIVWrite 2020 #FFxivWrite #fic #Aytien #but before they were a couple #also kind of Estinyan

2 notes · View notes

writermich18 · 5 years ago

Text

Good Omens Writing Prompt: AU Meets Canon

"Our Michael is a pyromaniac."

All conversations stop. The Canon characters - including Lucifer in human form - turn to stare incredulously at their AU counterparts.

"What." Canon Michael deadpans.

"It's true." AU Michael easily shrugs about it. Her voice was calm, rough, and low with a slight high undertone similar to AU Lucifer's own tenor voice. This Michael had wild, neck length red hair with it framing and mostly moving to the left. Any way you looked at it from any direction, it still looks as if it was constantly on fire. Sharp, but open and mischievous amber orange eyes with a red pupil. Darkly tanned skin marred with white, sometimes pink, scars. A prothestic left arm. Pointy ears with small blue hoop earrings (the same kind worn by BOTW Link and the same type of ears as Hylians). All of the AU Angels had those pointy ears and a different colored pupil other than black. The AU Demons all had round ears and black pupils. Baby cheeks but roughed by the weather and the streets, rough but circular jawline. Short nose. AU Michael was wearing an undershirt black sleeveless training turtleneck, a dark red and white tunic over that with Enochian and Celtic designs dancing on the hems and collar. Chest armor with one shoulder pad, armguards and fingerless black gloves with a metal plate on top of which the Army symbol was carved on. Dark blue leggings, armored skirt, shin guards, and black shinobi sandals. A tanto was strapped horizontally to her waist with a belt. Said belt had an assortment of other pouches and supplies attached to it. She had on a dark orange cloak with many Enochian and Celtic designs sewn on the back, hem, and collar. Dark red rope at the neck connected the two ends.

"I tend to blow shit up. Lucifer-nī tended to scold me for it," she remembers with a fond smile. "He still does, too." She adds.

"Because you keep shit up in Hell! It's already chaotic enough, stop adding to it!" AU Lucifer practically yells at her from his spot next to Canon Lucifer. Though his yell was more like a slightly louder normal voice. His voice was a smooth, tenor's voice with a rough low undertone similar to AU Michael's. There was a ghost of a tempting voice hidden somewhere in it. Long nose but it looked like it had been broken and reset a couple of times, most likely by Michael and then reset by a medic. AU Lucifer had just as wild hair as Michael but it was more in the way of stylishly curly mess than Michael's wild lioness mane of hair. It fell to his chest, unfairly stylishly, and dirty blond yet somehow shining in the natural light as if it was the fucking sun itself. High cheekbones, smooth jawline, but you could just tell that he was harsh to the touch at a closer look. Sharp, closed off silver eyes with a slit black pupil that still shined with its own inner light. Peach, pale skin. Round ears without a piercing. He wore a black high collar button up with a white silk tie and a black blazer with white lined hem and collar, white trousers, and black dress shoes. He looked put together but like he could easily destroy your life without a word.

"It just needs a little more fire, lighten the place up a bit."

"Says the soldier!" AU Luci sarcastically retorts.

"They're gonna be at this for the entire day so..." AU Uriel mutters. AU Uriel has a medium leveled voice, not high nor low pitched, it wasn't rough nor smooth. It had an emotional undertone, as in you could hear their emotions even when they were supposedly emotionless - comes with being the Archangel of the Arts (and yes, the Arts as in any type of art including philosophy), I guess. They were dark brown skinned person-being. Short, cropped black hair with some braided tiny buns burling along their head. Multi-colored eyes and pupil for the Arts is the element she maintains and is multicolored for its many aspects. Pointy ears with stud Anime character earrings (fan art is art) and multiple other ear piercings, and one lip piercing on the right side of their lips. Extravagant, cosplay style makeup painted their face into a beautiful canvas. They wore a high school's music shirt, with blue overalls - the overalls were painted on like a canvas as well - over the shirt, a utility belt filled to the brim with different artifacts all supplies from the different artistic areas. Old and worn galaxy styled sneakers finished their look.

"Stop it." Another voice pits in. AU Michael and Lucifer stop immediately and sulk as they refused to look at each other. Canon Aziraphale stared at his AU counterpart, the one who said stop it, as he has been since meeting her.

AU Aziraphale who apparently prefers to go by Ezra when she's on Earth doing her job. She, unlike him, was raised as a soldier practically her whole life. She never stopped training even when she was being Heaven's Earth agent. So she had muscles where he did not. He was chubby from eating while she was "chubby" from training and growing muscles - not really "traditional" chubby, chubby like a rolling torso and muscles. Not a bad thing but differently not something he's seen on his own body since becoming Heaven's Earth agent. Unlike him, she had a wild mane of white - white, not light blond - hair set up like AU Michael's with a slight difference in volume. Darkly tanned skin with scars and calloused hands and feet. Bare foot, dirty from walking on the ground. A nomad, she said she was. Didn't tend to stay in one place. Got antsy if she tried, like an enemy was going to pop in and kill her in her sleep because she's kept a predictable schedule. Sharp but almond shaped and kind amber orange eyes, red pupils like AU Michael's. Her Michael's adopted blood daughter, did the blood ritual to make it official for the papers. That explains the the fire colored streaks briefly seen flickering around and in her hair like actual embers, Canon Aziraphale thought faintly. She wore the same hoop earrings as Michael. Pointy ears. Baby cheeks but roughed by the weather and the streets. Ezra wore a black turtleneck like Michael, over which she wore a dirty blue button up with brown chest armor and a red wrongly tied tie. The sleeves were ripped up and turned into a short sleeve. She wore fingerless gloves with the metal plate that has Heaven't symbol on it. Wrapped around her waist was a plaid blue-and-black shirt under which was a utility belt with a assortment of book recovering supplies, a first aid kit pouch, and weapon pouches with another pouch, probably filled with more weapons, tied around her left thigh. Ruined at the hem, and torn dark blue pants covered her legs with multiple pieces of bandages and rough signs of frantic sewing on the pants. Her nails were somehow manicured, with only a few nails being mildly bitten. A nervous habit. She also apparently has a smaller version of Michael's pyromaniac tendencies - not a lot but enough to where even her superiors except her mother and Mother was afraid of pissing her off.

The rest of the Canon characters were also slightly unnerved and or intrigued by their respective counterparts.

Canon Adam was actually jealous of his counterpart because though he had an older sister, he didn't have a twin sister. Said AU Adam's twin sister was apparently essence adopted by AU Michael - meaning while her earthbound body made her the Young Family's daughter, her adopted-by-an-angel-and-ritually-claimed-as-Michael's-child soul, her essence, made her essentially Michael's daughter, meaning she got the benefits and consequences of being Michael's daughter. Which means AU Adam is not alone in the Child of an Angel department. Not only does he have a big sister in the form of AU Aziraphale - being Michael's angelic adopted daughter, related to AU Adsm through siblings Lucifer and Michael - but also a twin sister, related to AU Adam by 2 ways: sibling relation thus cousin relation for their children, and siblings through the Young Family, relations through earthbound body.

This situation they've all found themselves in will either end in hilarity or tragedy. All of them, except for the Chaos Trio (AU Michael, AU Lucifer, and AU Aziraphale), prayed for it to end in hilarity because another tragedy did not need to happen right now.

Ezra was just hoping for the Canon counterparts (and some of the AU counterparts) to never learn of the circumstances which caused her world's Michael to take her under her wings (literally and figuratively) and adopt her. That was a scarred past that should be buried and forgotten. Though she did want some chaos to happen.

AU Michael was also crossing her fingers and hoping people never found out about her ostracized and broken past which helped push her to help two damaged but not broken children. That was a wound too deep to heal without breaking someone else. Though she did want some chaos.

Lucifer just wanted chaos so that he could finally take that 32 hour long nap he's been meaning to take.

#good omens #writing prompt #au meets canon #aziraphale #michael (good omens)#lucifer (good omens)#adam young #siblings #adoption #long post #sorry i'm on mobile unfortunately

4 notes · View notes

captainderyn · 7 years ago

Note

“I know I say this a lot, but…I love you.”

Thank you for the ask @delavairesslegacy!

Cullen Rutherford/Tucdela

Cullen considered himself a man of routine. Whether it be the Templar training or just his structured personality he performed some tasks the same day in and day out, and that was how he liked it. One such task was keeping track of and putting away his armor at the end of the day so that come dawn he wouldn’t need to rummage around the cold stone floor in his barefeet and bedclothes trying to find a stray gauntlet. There were, of course, sometimes complications to this routine, mostly of elven nature if a certain Inquisitor had her way, but that, at least today, was irrelevant.

Today, his armor was conveniently missing from its stand, every bit, from mantle to boots. Thinking that maybe one of his soldiers thought to have a laugh and steal their commanding officer’s armor he made the quasi walk of shame–shameful in only that he felt quite bare in Skyhold’s cold morning air in his boots, trousers, and loose tunic shirt–down to the training court.

His troops were all gathered in a circle as he approached, unusually awake at this hour of the morning, without their usual grumblings of falling asleep on their feet, watching a smaller figure attempt to swing a sword much too long for them around.

As he drew closer he caught sight of familiar dark red waves and the elegant point of elven years curving from beneath her dark hair. She tried to heave the sword up again, familiar accented voice rising into the still mountain air. “You just need to whack it really, really hard.” As if to demonstrate she aimed towards one of the training dummies and the sword fall into the straw and cloth shoulder, sending up a puff of dust. It stuck, and she had to pull extra hard to get it out. “See, really hard.”

“Tucdela,” Cullen called, momentarily forgetting to call her by her title first–as had become habit in the initial period that he hadn’t let himself entertain the thought of her being anything other than his leader. Title notwithstanding his soldiers have already sniffed out the gossip that their Commander and her Inquisitorialness as Varric called her were spending an ample amount of time together– and there was laughter in her voice when she whipped around, nearly tumbling to the ground. His boots–and now he knew where his armor was as she’s requisitioned all of it, no matter how big,–are much too large for her feet, he can see that she can’t really lift them, instead shuffling along the ground. Somehow she’s clipped and tied his gauntlets around her arms and fastened her chest piece around her lithe figure, even if she’s swimming in the abundance of metal.

He has seen her in the fur mantle and cloth under piece to his armor, after all her usual armor around Skyhold was in fact a cut and tucked version of the over piece he draped around her in the snow of Haven, minus the heavy fur now. Now, however, his, fully not sewn to fit her proportions, hangs down to her knees and dangles loosely over her brown undershirt. Now it hangs down to her knees, danging distractedly loose around her brown undershirt.

“What’re you doing?”

In a split second where she seemed shocked to see him without his armor, despite she herself wearing it, her eyes drifted over the loose but thin fabric of the one shirt he had been able to find in his haste before dragging to his face. Then they narrowed, a smirk quirked her lips and she barked in her best imitation of his voice–ridiculously husky and low and still clipped with the Dalish dialect. “Recruit Rutherford, you’re late!”

He couldn’t play around in front of his troops, they were already snickering behind their hands at the stand off between their commanding officer and their Herald. But she crossed her arms, cocked her hip and waited for a response.

So, in his driest voice he asked, “What’re you teaching today, Commander Lavellan?”

Tucdela hauled the sword up, gesturing between herself, her ‘students’, and the dummy. From the look she fixed on him he might as well have had the thought process of that dummy in that moment. “How to fight with a sword.”

He can’t help it, the natural banter he finds himself himself reaching for when its only them breaking free, when he immediately shot back; “Can you even swing that sword? You’re an archer.”

There are muffled exclamations from the peanut gallery of soldiers and he can practically hear the coins shifting hands and bets being made. “Inquisitor?”

Tilting her chin up he pinpointed the moment her smirk widened and she celebrated a small victory, perhaps in losing the complete professionalism he keeps a tight handle on. “Is that a challenge, Rutherford?”

It was a breach of every rule he’s set for himself over the past years of the Inquisition but she has been telling him to loosen up in front of his troops, make himself one of them instead of holding himself at a cool distance. Well, none of his men should be challenging the Inquisitor to duels in their armor. If they were then they would have something more to worry about than beating Tucdela Lavellan in one on one combat.

“You find yourself challenged, Inquisitor.” Scanning the gathered troops and waving towards the swords of one of the soldiers that was close to Tucdela’s build, a young Orlesian that had joined forgone her countrymen’s fight after the Winter Palace in favor of the Inquisition, if his memory served him right, he said. “Eira, if you wouldn’t mind lending the Inquisitor your sword.”

She handed it over with a pushed down amusement filled grin and he turned to hold it out to Tucdela, quirking a brow. “You might want to take off the armor before you bring harm to yourself.”

Stepping closer than strictly necessary to grab the sword she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, keeping her voice between them. “Oh I can think of someone and some way better to remove this armor, Commander.”

Maker’s breath. With the relative calm that had come over Skyhold in planning their next blow and waiting for information to surface on their enemy, filled with odd jobs and resource gathering, much of the stress had lifted at least slightly from her shoulders; and while he thanked the Maker that she was no longer a husk of herself those green eyes looking up at him from thick lashes as she stepped back were almost to much.

It took her a few minutes of fumbling with the straps she’s crossed and recrossed before the armor came off, leaving her barefoot and just as under dressed for her rank or even just a duel as he is. Then again, with the rumor mill pumping furiously from Denerim about the fact that the King and Queen had dueled each other–for fun, nobles nearly lost their minds at such a concept–in their royal finery, dueling in shirts and trousers hardly seemed such an issue.

It took three or four blows for them both to realize that Cullen was correct, and that Tucdela was an archer by trade and nature and not a swords-woman. While not completely hopeless with blades, she did after all carry and know how to use two daggers were something to ever go wrong in combat with her bow, she was clumsy and unsure with a sword.

She lost gracefully, though not for lack of trying. With the weight of a sword weighing her down she couldn’t dance and flit around the way she could with her bow, couldn’t jump from spot to spot. Instead she would find her flank open, then her front, then her back; all faster than she could reach with her experience.

Finally she raised her hand in surrender, leaning on her sword. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly and she raked her hand through hair damp with swear. The loose brown tunic she had been wearing clung to her back but despite her tired and overheated look her eyes were gleaming with a light he hadn’t had to pleasure of seeing for a long time.

“I give.” With a wheezing laugh she rocked back and forth on her feet. “I’ve been humbled enough.”

Then she smiled at him, beaming and happy, and he couldn’t help but give a small, reserved smile in return. Motioning to his troops he gave them his most stern look. “Alright, you’ve all had your fun at the Inquisitor’s expense, go get ready for your actual training.”

“I don’t know, Commander. Her Ladyship might be able to give you a run for your job.”

Pointing at the smart mouthed soldier, though his tone remained light he shooed him off. “I didn’t ask for your smart mouth, ser, that’s an extra three rounds for you.”

With excessive grumbling the troops ambled away to prep for their real drilling, pushing and shoving back at each other. When it was only the two of them Cullen turned to Tucdela and offered a real smile. “Are you alright?”

She waved off his concern, straightening up and relinquishing the borrowed sword as her cane. “Pssh that? I’m fine. It’s only the most work I’ve done in months.”

Cullen wandered to the pile she had made of his armor, starting to sort through it and untangle straps. “Even with the dragon you and Bull slayed in the Approach?”

“Maybe less than slipping and sliding on sand while trying to avoid dragon breath.” Tucdela mused. “Though this is a close second.”

He jumped when suddenly her arms were slung around his shoulders, her head resting against his. “Thank you, for doing that, even with your troops there. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had as ‘The Inquisitor’ lately.”

Pulling at the straps she had adjusted to make work he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her exposed jaw. “Anything for you.”

Her low hum rumbled in his ear as she pulled herself closer for a moment. “Ah, I know I say this a lot, but I love you. And I really don’t want to go to my meetings now.”

Then she was dragging her arms from around his shoulders with a huff, looking down at her sweaty and dusty garments. “Josie’s going to flay me alive if I show up in this.” She sighed, then fixed him with a look. “I’ll see you after these morning meets? Office or battlements?”

“As always.”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #inquisitor lavellan #cullen x lavellan #I answer things!#oc: Tucdela #otp: The Elf and the Lion #i don't write them often #as im terrified of writing and posting cullen #but when I do write them theyre pretty cute

21 notes · View notes

ellana-ravenwood · 7 years ago

Text

Silly Bat’ - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Just a short silly fic BECAUSE WHY NOT RIGHT ?! I like to imagine that when Bruce doesn’t have the stress of taking care of Wayne Inc or of his nightly activities on his back, he’s just a very funny and kinda weird man...So I wrote something about it, hope you’ll like it :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

There were times, when it was just you and Bruce, where you genuinely wondered if your husband wasn’t completely crazy.

Not in a bad way. Not in a “Joker” or “Harley Quinn” way. Nooooo. In a “that man is completely silly, and I’m really starting to question his sanity...is he on drugs ? Drunk ? I don’t know, but it’s funny” way. Yes. Exactly in that way.

Often, when it was just the two of you, behind closed door, he would...loosen up. And not just a bit. He would loosen up completely and go on full “goofball mode”.

You couldn’t count the number of times he started a pillow fight, a war with water guns (though since Alfred yelled at you two as if you were children making a mess, you switched from water guns to nerf guns), a tickle fight or a stupid and ridiculous fashion show etc etc.

You still remembered how your abs hurt after the fit of laughter you had when he came out of the bathroom wearing an awful bright green tuxedo vest a random fashion house send him, without an undershirt, flexing all of the muscle of his chest and all, some sweatpants on of which he tucked the lower part in cowboy boots Clark gave him, and a lampshade as a hat...Where was he even finding those ideas ?

Yes. When it was just you and him, he was a different person. That no one else but you, not even his children, not even Alfred, or any of his close friends would ever see. A Bruce completely carefree, and also slightly insane...but hilarious.

Every time you ended up having the Manor to yourself (which was very rarely, with five children and a butler who almost never took days off), it would even be better, your playground being bigger.

One of your favorite “Silly Bat” time was when you played hide and seek (yes, grown ass adults could totally play hide and seek) and you went to hide in a tree in the garden...And got found by Clark.

The embarrassment on Bruce’s face when he was trying to explain what you two were doing was priceless...In the end, he said that you were playing a “sexual version of hide and seek”, because it was easier to explain than to tell his friend that he was actually playing the actual game, like a damn child, with his beautiful wife...

Clark was impressed. After all, he found you in a tree, so he wondered how you two were going to make lo...Your laughter stopped his trail of thoughts. Your superfriend misinterpreted your laugh, thinking you were mocking him because he was blushing, and that was good (for Bruce). It settled the end of the story.

Soon enough, Superman was laughing too, and it took everything in Bruce to not even crack a smile, to keep his stoic stance, and slightly bored facial expression, so that he wouldn’t get discovered. Ooh you loved that man.

You really loved this kid like part of Bruce, you felt like he deserved to have those moments, because his childhood was ripped from him when he was but an eight year old child...So you indulged him whenever he had one of his “I’m a bit of a weird idiot” time.

Like today.

For the first time in six months, you had the entire house for yourselves, and you took advantage of it the night before (Bruce took his weekly night off of patrol, letting his children and other partners handling things), making love in every single room, needless to say, you fell in a deep sleep when the first light of morning arose...You woke up alone in bed, but Bruce’s side was still quite warm, so he was probably downstairs or in the bathroom.

Bathroom was empty, and you saw only your naked reflection in the huge mirrors all around the room. With a loud yawn, you put on one of your Husband’s sweatshirt, long enough for you to play as a dress, and didn’t bother to put some underwear on. You knew your Bruce, they wouldn’t last long on you anyway.

It was almost noon when you came in the kitchen to get a late breakfast. You definitely had a deep craving for some Cap’n Crunch right now.

Still a bit sleepy, you first thought you hallucinated as your gaze fell on Bruce, standing in front of the kitchen counter, settling the breakfast down (how cute). You rubbed your eyes vigorously and...Nope, the sight was still there.

You took a few more steps, quite confused, and he turned around as he heard you. Smiling widely, he came to you as if nothing, and planted a kiss on your forehead.

-Breakfast ready my love. I made some hashbrowns, bacon, eggs, blueberry pancakes...and of course, a bowl full of Cap’n Crunch and cold milk.

It was really cute, how he made you breakfast whenever it was only the two of you. Contrary to popular belief, he was quite a good cook...But, you just couldn’t wrap your head around what you were seeing right now. Unable to contain yourself, you said :

-Hum...Bruce, what are you doing ?

-Whatever do you mean ?

You approach him, and his smirk convinces you that he damn well know what you mean. Still, you explain :

-I mean...why are you wearing one of my shirt ?

He looks at himself, and gives his person an appreciative look (arrogant bastard), nods a bit, and look back at you, his cocky facial expression making you narrow your eyes in slight annoyance :

-Payback. Cause you’re always stealing mine.

Payb...What ? He gestures to you, and of course, conveniently, you are in indeed wearing one of his shirt. His huge ass shirt that was way too big for you. That served as a dress. You gave him a look, trying to defend yourself, no you weren’t always stealing his sh...his eyes and one of his eyebrow raising shut you up. Yeah ok. He was right. You had the bad habit to steal all of his shirt, to the extent he had to buy new ones often because all of them just magically disappeared (you had a place under your king sized bed where you hid them...Alfred helped, because he thought it was cute).

But still. His shirt were so big you used them as some sort of dresses. They were going almost all the way down to your knees. You could hang around in your house with them, in front of your children and butler, without it being weird. But your shirts ? On Bruce ? You were trying so hard not to laugh. Especially since you knew that’s what he was waiting for. Holding yourself as best you can, you sit next to him and say :

-...You are aware that you’re a giant compared to me right ? It looks like you’re wearing a really strange...Crop top.

-I am aware, and I like it. I’m gonna set a new trend across Gotham.

-One of my extremely small shirt as a crop top, and wearing only boxers ?

-Yup.

-People love you so much that I bet they’d find this idea brilliant...

-You think ?

-Yes, especially since it’d give them a glimpse of your very handsome body. I’m gonna have competition.

-Haha, no one compares to you, you’ll never have any competition.

-That’s cute. But you still look ridiculous.

-Non sense, I look fabulous.

-Fabulously ridiculous.

-You have no fashion sense, wearing such baggy clothes like my shirts. You’re not showing how gorgeous your body look with such things on.

-Oh ?

-Yes. Let me give you a make-over my love.

You smile and roll your eyes. Yes, he was definitely in one of his “Silly Bat” mood. As usual, you were definitely enjoying it.

He raised from the stool he was sitting on, and got even closer to you. Kissed the top of your nose, and with one swift move, took his sweatshirt off of you.

-Here. Fixed it. Now you’re the most beautiful woman in the World.

-I’m naked.

-Exactly. Perfect.

You chuckle a bit, of this little and short laugh he loved so much, and his feature soften even more. He’s unable to hold his sweet smile for you, and the sight of your Bruce, smile out, wearing only his boxers and one of your shirt that was way too small for you, turns into one of the best sight you ever had.

-You’re not too bad yourself.

-It’s because of your shirt, adds character.

You giggle some more, and his hands go automatically on your waist at the sound of your cute laughter. He brings you close from him, and your lips connect with his in the most tender kiss ever. God you loved moments like this, when it was just you and him.

When he could be silly, weird, affectionate, without the fear of someone seeing him, without the fear of ruining his reputation (reputation that was important to keep up for a lot of reasons).

When he could make you laugh to the point that your abs would hurt so much afterward. When he could just be himself a bit more...The thought of some people discovering this facet of his personality was hilarious.

Imagine Clark, on a mission with the dark and broody Batman, being very confused as to why said dark and broody Batman wears a bright yellow suit and a lampshade on his head ? Hilarious.

His kids sometimes saw a bit of that part of him, and Alfred too (he loved it, it reminded him of the boy Bruce used to be before his parents’ murder). Nerf guns wars were a regular occurence this later days.

But most of the time, people only saw his darkest side, his saddest one...And you were honored that he graced you with his childlike side on a regular basis.

One thing was troubling you however :

-Tell me Bruce, my dear heart...

-What my love ?

-How exactly did you put my shirt on ?

-...With great difficulties. That’s how I did it. Your shirts are really small, not easy to slip it on. I learn how flexible I could be thanks to it though.

Your laugh makes his heart fly and sing. Only you could have such an effect on him. Just a smile or a glance...And he’d feel lighter. Like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the World (or at least Gotham city) on his shoulders.

He was thankful that you were in his life. Without you, he would have buried this side of him deep within himself, never to let it out ever. Without you, he would only be the dark and broody Batman, the arrogant, womanizing and cocky Bruce Wayne. Without you, he would be miserable. He was beyond glad that you tumbled in his life one day, and just...stuck around, with your bright smile and sarcastic jokes. You were perfect.

Especially when naked.

He hands were starting to get hungry, and you chuckled a bit more as he tickled you unintentionally.

-Aaah, maybe I could set a trend too.

-Uh ?

-Well yeah, how would I look like if my husband set a trend, the soon to be famous crop top/boxers look, and I wouldn’t do anything ?

-What trend would you set ?

-This one. The Naked look.

-...The Naked look ?

-You said it was perfect.

-It’s perfect for my eyes only.

-Thanks...

-No, I mean, any men, and women for that matter, would think it’s perfect too ! You really are the most beautiful woman on the planet. But...It’s..I...Only for me.

-Bruce, sharing is caring.

-Maybe, but I have no intention of sharing you.

-That’s not very nice, for a self-proclaimed philanthropist. People would be disappointed.

-Fuck ‘em.

-Oh, and he swears. Outrageous.

He smiles wickedly at you, and you return the same smile. He loved when you were messing with him (as long as it wasn’t going too far...then he’d get all pouty and frowny, which was kinda cute, but anti-climatic).

-I can show you how outrageous I can be.

-Oh yeah ?

-Yeah.

-Mr. Wayne, I am appalled by your behavior.

He brings you closer to him, and lift you up the floor, his hands behind your thigh. You automatically wrap your legs around his waist, and peck his lips lovingly.

He kisses you deeply, and you moan lowly in his mouth. You pull away, and rest your forehead on his as he puts you down on the counter.

-Good thing no one will ever know what we’re about to do on the counter.

-Oh yes, they’d be very...appalled if they knew.

You burst out laughing, and kiss him once more. He pulls away, and just before plunging his head in your neck, says :

-I love you (Y/N).

-I love you Bruce.

Your shirt was difficult to put on for him, but definitely easy to rip off of his body.

FIN.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #Batman imagine #batman headcanon #Bruce Wayne headcanon #Batmom x Bruce Wayne #Batmom #Batfamily #batfam imagine #Batfamily x reader #Batman fanfiction #fluff #fluffy Bruce Wayne #also #Silly Bruce wayne

2K notes · View notes