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15-dogs · 4 years ago

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lovely night |r.b.|

pairing: regulus black x reader

summary: when regulus finds hidden letters from sirius after he’s run away with his girlfriend, you admit to something you never thought you would (hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, forbidden love, no war au)

warnings: blood status stuff, underaged drinking (regulus and reader are 18), idk if this needs to be tagged but reader is a muggle born butler/worker for a pure blood family

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name

word count: 2.2K

a/n: askjdhs this is my first regulus fic i hope it’s ok we’ll see we’ll see. also!! yes i did draw inspo from lovely night from la la land so the girlfriend sirius ran away with years back is the reader from planetarium so check that out if you want context to the letters!! feedback is greatly appreciated and i hope you like it!!

***

You only did what you had to to get by. Your muggle parents had thrown you out years ago so you had to find a job to support yourself. In the defense of good character and charity, the Greengrass family took you in as their worker. You stayed with them in the private quarters you shared with the house elves and kept your head down when they threw backhanded insults about your blood status at you. Whatever you could do to get by, you did.

As a reward for being so well-behaved at their home, the family would take you out to private events, fit only for the pureblooded families. Many families would bring their attendants with them, just to prove they were not of ill faith quite yet. You didn’t quite care about those intentions, not when you were too distracted by the glamour of the day.

You did have a very rich fantasy life. As Amalina Greengrass’s seamstress, you got to play with her dresses. And what dresses those were. Long, flowing gowns with pale colors which could make anyone look like royalty.

You used to dream about attending those parties in those dresses, catching the eye of a certain young suitor who was quite skilled at the violin. You imagined walking right past him, like he wouldn’t even recognize you in your fancy clothes, but he would do a double take before running after you, spouting compliments and praise and wondering why in Merlin’s name he hadn’t noticed you that way before.

But Regulus wasn’t like that.

Regulus was your friend, dress or rags. Every party you two were forced to attend, you always ended up sneaking off to chat. Regulus would secure a secluded balcony far off in the mansion from the ballroom while you stole a bottle of firewhiskey from the kitchens. That night was no exception.

Regulus sat on the ground, his legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the garden 30 feet down. He looked so pretty in the moonlight, his sharp features finally softening. It was moments like those you knew Regulus wasn’t as scary as he or his family let on.

Against your instinct to stare in silence, you knocked on the open glass door and pushed past the billowing curtains to reveal yourself. Regulus didn’t turn around. You joined him on the balcony, sliding into the spot next to him as you rested your cheek against the cool metal of the railing.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you teased. Regulus didn’t smile.

Now, with you so close, you could see all the details in his face more clearly. The pain you had mistaken for calm flooded his face and soon washed over you. Your stomach turned with an ache for his wellness.

You knew he wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, not when he was stone cold sober, so you untwisted the cap and sloshed the liquid around before passing it to the boy next to you, deciding he should get the first drink. Regulus winced at how much he slugged back but didn’t falter, continuing to drink until amber liquid spilled down his chin.

“Easy there,” you whispered, cautiously easing the bottle away from his lips. Regulus grunted in discontent before allowing you to pry the bottle away from him, your hands slipping over his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Silence with Regulus wasn’t unusual, but silence when he had something to say was unsettling. He had only completely lost it once, when Sirius moved out and ran off with some girl he met at one of the balls his parents hosted. He did it all with telling his younger brother. And although Regulus spat Sirius’s name with venom he had inherited from his environment, he loved him, and his running away cut so incredibly deep Regulus didn’t know how to control himself.

So really, you could only prepare yourself for the worst.

“It’s a lovely night out,” you began, nudging Regulus with your shoulder. He shrugged. “What a shame it’s just for us.”

Glancing out of the corner of your eye, Regulus frowned. That disquieting look reappeared on his face, although a tad bit more melodramatic than before. Regulus snatched the bottle from you and took a quick swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with reckless abandon, your nerves thrumming.

Regulus finally— finally— turned to look at you, his cheeks reddened in a healthy flush from the alcohol. His shoulder brushed against yours and you looked up, your face nearly colliding with his. Unconsciously, you sucked in a sharp breath and consequently inhaled the scent of the burning liquid off of Regulus’s breath.

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation. He blinked in shock. “Yes, Reg, I think you’re wonderful.”

He sat in silence, studying your face for a tell while you allowed yourself to get lost in his eyes. The moonlight passed over them, giving the deep chocolate brown a plethora of shades and his long lashes cast a nearly invisible shadow which you wouldn’t dare miss.

After what felt like an eternity, Regulus turned his body to unbutton his vest, promptly pulling out a small stack of letters. He dropped them on your thigh with a look of horror before pulling his gaze away.

Before you could ask what they were, Regulus answered you. “They’re letters from Sirius.”

Your eyes bulged. Raising the letter up to your face, you glanced at the contents before shuffling to the next one. “These are all from when he left. Where did you get these?”

“Mum’s dresser. She asked me to get her perfume and I found them in there, hidden.”

Regulus made a limp movement to get the letters back, accidentally slapping them down on the floor between you two. He huffed with frustration as he went to gather them, only picking up a few letters at a time. Regulus ran a hand through his perfectly done hair, freeing it from some of the gel which held it in place.

“She ran away with him, you know,” he began. Regulus looked up, scanning your face for something you couldn’t quite describe. It was deep and introspective, like a man looking at his reflection. “They were so in love they ran away together. I wish I was loved like that.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you and Regulus were. Friends, or something more, you hoped. So that’s why you simply said, “You are.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, staring into them for an explanation. He attempted to peel away as he chuckled softly to himself, making you purse your lips in defiance. “No, no,” he started, waving you off, “I mean, I wish I was loved the way Sirius and his girlfriend love each other.”

“You are.”

The silence hung heavy in the night fog. Although you managed to look calm, your heart felt like it could have beat out of your chest. But you knew, somewhere deep in your heart, you didn’t regret your confession for a second. It needed to be said, so it was. And if he didn’t feel the same you wouldn’t have to go on pretending you and Regulus weren’t friends anymore, it would just become normal.

“(Y/L/N)!” a shrill voice shrieked from the horn in the room behind you. “You are required in the parlor!”

You nodded like the caller could see you, gathering yourself and leaving Regulus alone once more. You didn’t dare look back, too fearful he’d see just how vulnerable you were. Yet, the silence wasn’t much better.

***

Typically, you hated checking the portkeys at the end of the night, making sure there were no more left in case a muggle accidentally took one. However, that night you couldn’t have been happier to offer. You needed the fresh air. You needed to be away from that place. You needed to be away from Regulus. So when you descended into the deep blue night, the last thing you wanted to hear was Regulus calling your name from behind you.

“What are you doing?” he called through heavy breaths as he caught up to you.

“Checking portkeys,” you answered curtly. You took a sharp turn down one street, cutting him off and hoping he’d get the message. But of course he didn’t. Regulus continued to follow you, hands clasped behind his back as he watched you intently. “Stop following me.”

“I would if you were going the right way.”

Your steps faltered. Didn’t you go down this street earlier? No, you were definitely in the wrong place. Huffing, you turned around and tried to maneuver around Regulus but he blocked your way.

“What are you doing?” With a cross of your arms, you looked the boy over for the first time in hours.

“Trying to get you to slow down.” Regulus planted his hands firmly on your shoulders and guided you towards a bench beside you, overlooking the skyline of the city. “Look, (Y/N), just look for one second. Look at how lovely this night is.”

It was unfair how beautiful the lighting made him look. You had to catch yourself before you got too caught up in a lost cause so you directed your attention down towards your aching feet, peeling off the cramped shoes you were forced to wear.

Finally, you decided to look up. Regulus was right: it was a lovely night. But lovely nights were made for loving people, and he had made it clear he wasn’t one of those people. Your mood instantly soured. The more you thought about the situation, the stupider you felt. You were asking Regulus Black, the “Pureblood Prince”, to love you back, a measly muggleborn butler.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

Regulus’s timid voice broke the silence and sent a sharp pain in your chest. You shook your head. “So, what? You thought taking me to look at the city would soften to blow?”

He perked up at that. “What?”

You scoffed, standing up, shoes in hand and venom in your veins. “I shouldn’t have expected you to say it back. I misread this, and I’ll take the blame for that to spare you. So can we please just drop it?”

Before he could even process what you had said, you were already walking away from him. Regulus scrambled to your side with a flurry of rushed pleas to make you sit and listen to him for just one second.

“You know what’s funny?” you started, a chuckle toying at your lips. Behind you, Regulus had silenced himself. “That I thought this would work out. I mean, come on, we have to take a look at ourselves for a second, Reg. We know who we are. We know our places. And my place is not with you.”

“Merlin, why not?!” Regulus shouted. Anger reverberated through the hollow street and you were near positive you could almost feel it. The corners of his eyes pricked with tears from frustration. You weren’t over him, you knew that, it was too soon, and seeing him in such a distraught state made you sick.

“What?”

Regulus ran his hands over his face with a shaky sigh. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to shout, and especially not at you. You don’t deserve to be shouted at. I just can’t hear about ‘our places’ again.”

Taking cautious steps towards him, you asked, “Again?”

Regulus sunk into a squat and rested against the pavement, evoking a quiet gasp at the cleaning his elves would have to do to his dress pants. “Amalina thought you might fancy me and told my mother. For two bloody weeks she gave me lecture after lecture about how it would be sickening if I even thought about being with someone of your…”

“Oh.” You sunk to his level, relaxing against the emptied street next to him.

“But I realized how much what she says doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes flickered up to his, wide and full of hope. “Reg, do you know what you’re saying?”

Regulus laid on his back, you following suit, staring up at the night sky. He subconsciously took your hand in his and began to trace the constellations against you with his thumb, sending sparks flying through you.

“I do, I promise, I do. When I found those letters from Sirius, everything felt very...obvious to me. I think I might love you.”

Much to your dismay, you inched your hand out of his as you sat up, causing him to turn his head to look in your eyes. “Please don’t say that. I know you miss your brother but pretending you’re him isn’t the way to get him back.”

“I’ll admit, I thought I was doing that, too. Our love is different than theirs— it’s been there all along. And I quite like our love.”

You waited for him to look up at you, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. Regulus smiled sweetly at you, making your stomach flutter and nerves thrum. Laying back down next to him, you once again took his hand.

“What’re we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” The raven haired boy frowned. “But I think I’m prepared for it.”

As you leaned your head on his shoulder you realized lovely nights were made for loving people, and perhaps you were one of them.

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if you’re crossed out i couldn’t tag you!!

tags: @aspiringsloth02 @dreamy-clousds @nuttytani-reblogs @anyqueen008 @lunalovecroft @pandaxnienke @for-bebbanburg

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black fluff #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black oneshot #regulus black hurt/comfort #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #forbidden love #sirius black #amalina greengrass #original female character #song fic

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morporkian-cryptid · 3 years ago

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Today in "Elliott's Niche AF AUs": one (1) person asked me about this, sooooo...

Lupin III Discworld AU crossover headcanon pile thingy!!!

For those who don't know: Discworld is a flat world held on the back of four giant elephants on top of a giant turtle, floating through space. That world has magic, as well as trolls, dwarves, goblins etc... but in a way that's meant to subvert typical fantasy tropes.

Ankh-Morpork, the biggest city on the Disc, is a hotbed of crime, innovations, and innovations in crime. It is run by a council of guilds, and by a Patrician (a lifelong tyrant; he's elected by the guilds but he has the final say in everything). Notorious for having an Assassins', Thieves', Beggars', and Seamstresses' (sex workers) Guilds. Also notorious for its Watch (the police), which is actually surprisingly good at solving crimes. It's also the biggest immigration destination on the Disc.

Character backstories/situations:

Lupin : half-quirmian-half-agatean (Quirm being the DW equivalent of France), grew up in the Agatean Empire (DW equivalent of China/East Asia). He moved to Ankh-Morpork to follow Fujiko, and/or to escape Zenigata. He’s an illegal thief (meaning he's not registered with the Thieves' Guild), and his favourite hobby (besides just stealing in general) is screwing with the Guild. Commander Vimes, the head of the Watch, is supposed to catch him (or at least help Zenigata catch him), but he's secretly rooting for him because he dislikes the Guild slightly more than he dislikes Lupin.

Jigen : son of a couple of Agatean immigrants in Ankh-Morpork, grew up as a street urchin in the Shades (the most crime-ridden neighborhood of the notoriously crime-ridden Ankh-Morpork). He joined the Assassins’ Guild later in his life as a (mostly self-taught) sharpshooter, with a talent that outshone that of the Guild's best students. He later quit the Guild after he met Lupin (possibly had a contract to kill Lupin, and decided “screw this I’m going with him”). He can use any kind of shooting weapons, but favors crossbows. He’s tried stealing and using the gonne (DW's first and only firearm); it didn't go well. He somehow managed to learn one single spell from the wizards, the fireball, by becoming pals with Arcchancelor Ridcully (wizard, head of the Unseen University, and famous for his unfortunate passion for crossbow shooting).

Goemon : agatean immigrant/fugitive, master swordsman. He left Agatea because Fujiko stole his Zantetsuken and fled to Ankh-Morpork, so Goemon had to follow her to retrieve his sword. He then met Lupin and Jigen and decided to stick around. The Zantetsuken is a talking sword, and its personality is basically the embodiment of Bushido. It's extremely annoying (like all talking swords), but Goemon loves it. (it was probably his only friend back in Agatea)

Fujiko : agatean immigrant/fugitive. Ran away from the Agatean Empire chased by Goemon. She joined the Thieves’ Guild, but everyone confuses her for a seamstress because her technique usually involves seduction. She tried it on Vetinari once. It failed spectacularly.

Zenigata : agatean immigrant, part of the Empire’s police force, who came to Ankh-Morpork chasing Lupin. He only brought his assistant Yata with him, and has to cooperate with the Watch to have resources to catch Lupin. Vimes doesn’t particularly like him, but he’s good at his work so he can’t say anything (they're both too stubborn to get along).

Bonus:

Yata: Zenigata’s assistant, came to Ankh-Morpork with him, rapidly became great friends with Rufus Drumknott (the Head Secretary of the Patrician, Lord Vetinari). He has a bad influence on Drumknott. He also befriended Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson, but then again Carrot befriends everyone.

Ami: She's a clacks operator. Clacks are basically the DW equivalent of telegraph. There's a group of clacks hackers called the GNU, so she might have joined them.

Albert: He's part of the Patrician's Dark Clerks (they're the secret services of Ankh-Morpork)

Rebecca: She's from Quirm. That’s all I have about her for now. (Quirm's the equivalent of France, but in the french translation it was made into an equivalent of Italy)

Random-Ass Headcanons

Lupin gets along like a house on fire with Moist von Lipwig (former conman and current postmaster, notorious adrenaline junkie), both figuratively and literally. Lupin and Lipwig sometimes team up on heists and rely on each other’s help, when they’re not busy competing against each other because Lupin keeps daring Lipwig to thieving competitions.

One of the contests’ goal is to steal Vetinari’s manuscript, The Servant. Fujiko wins. She wasn’t even in the race.

///

Fujiko quickly became friends with Adora-Belle Dearheart (Moist von Lipwig's rather explosive girlfriend), they get together every now and then to trash-talk their respective boyfriends.

///

For some reason everyone thinks Lupin is a werewolf. (it’s actually Jigen)

(maybe. I haven't yet decided whether or not he is. That would be a very good source of angst, considering what most werewolves are like, and also a very good source of domestic fluff if the whole gang has to adapt to the moon cycle and Jigen's transformations. Idk. Might be fun.)

///

Fujiko owns a horse golem (a gift from Adora-Belle or something she stole, we may never know). The Gang also owns a carriage, modified with a spell so it will drive faster, and they drive it completely carelessly. It has been destroyed and rebuilt countless times. (actually a bunch of spells, Lupin probably found a way to blackmail Ridcully so he could mod the shit out of his carriage. Or they rely on Jigen’s friendship with Ridcully)

///

Lupin uses swamp dragons as firearms (dialogue courtesy of @marquise-de-clarabas: Jigen: You stole a dragon??? Lupin: I didn’t steal him! He’s his own person and can make decisions himself! Dragon: I wanna steal). He has an alias and disguise entirely dedicated to visiting the Sunshine Sanctuary For Sick Dragons, and somehow became friends with Lady Sybil Ramkin-Vimes (Commander Vimes' wife, and the greatest expert on swamp dragons in the city, probably on the Disc). Vimes doesn't know about it, and Lupin finds the whole situation hilarious. He constantly makes jokes about how he’s playing with fire.

///

The Thieves’ Guild and the Watch are competing to catch the Gang, but secretly Vimes is rooting for the Gang (the Guild just hates them). That said, Vimes also hates Lupin (only slightly less than he dislikes the Guild), because he's always a little shit whenever he gets put in jail, and then he immediately breaks out.

///

Rincewind (famously bad wizard with a shit luck and a tendency to run from problems) once got arrested by Zenigata, because he got startled by him yelling LUPAAAAAAAAAN! and started running for the hills, making Zenigata believe he was Lupin in disguise. Rincewind is terrified of Zenigata.

///

Zenigata is actively trying to stop the Thieves' Guild from catching Lupin and Co, both because he wants to catch them himself, and because he knows what the Guild does to illegal thieves and he doesn’t want it to happen to Lupin.

///

Lupin stole Ridcully’s hat (custom wizard hat with a bunch of pockets, drawers, a crossbow, and a tiny flask of alcohol) as a gift for Jigen’s birthday. He also stole Lipwig’s hat (golden cap with dove wings), after which Adora claimed she didn’t recognize Moist (dialogue courtesy of @marquise-de-clarabas: Moist: C’mon babe, it’s me, your boyfriend! Adora, knowing full well who he is: I have never met this man in my entire life). He also raided the Assassins' Guild's armory/museum to get a birthday gift for Goemon.

///

About Jigen and the gonne (spoilers for Men at Arms) : basically, the gonne being such a dangerous and destructive weapon compared to crossbows, it has a nigh-magical attraction on people, and awakens and strengthens whatever lust for power, vengeance, blood etc they have. It basically controls its user and feeds on their convictions, addictions, wants, etc. The only person known to have resisted it is Vimes (because he's a stubborn mofo with a sense of morals you could bend iron on), and even he came damn near to losing his mind. (And Carrot, because... he's Carrot.)

Assuming the gonne didn't get destroyed in this AU: after they steal it, Lupin tries to use it, gets completely possessed/cursed (again) and accidentally tries to murder his friends (again), prompting Jigen to take it from him. Jigen then gets possessed as well, and they start fighting for the gonne, until Goemon just walks in, takes it out of their hands and takes it away. Goemon's completely unaffected by the gonne because 1) of his ascetic training and 2) "it is a filthy morporkian artifact and cannot compare to the noble art of the sword."

///

Zenigata often teams up with Angua (resident werewolf of the Watch), they get along very well. The Gang is very easy to track, they smell like a tobacco factory that has caught on fire.

///

Yata and Drumknott (Patrician's head secretary, and confidante, sort of) get together after office hours, and argue about whose boss is the best (because as we all know they both have a crush on respective bosses). One day Drumknott accidentally calls Vetinari “Sempai” after he heard Yata call Zenigata that all the time.

///

Lupin follows Lipwig’s example and steals all of Yata’s pencils every time he visits the Pseudopolis Yard (the Watch's HQ). Drumknott is fuming when Yata tells him about it.

///

Leonardo Da Quirm is butt-naked, because Part 4.

///

Something with vampires, probably.

///

tagging @carriagelamp and @mad-whoman-with-a-book00 because I know you may be potentially interested in this AU ^^

#lupin iii #lupin the third #discworld #ankh-morpork #terry pratchett #lupin iii discworld au #already making a tag in case i make more posts; you never know #the hobbit's headcanons

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mintaka14 · 4 years ago

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See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Two – Chasing Down a Daydream

“Luka’s not seeing anyone,” Rose said conspiratorially as Marinette pinned a swathe of calico dress pattern into place on the tiny blonde girl, and Marinette couldn’t help the involuntary glance in Luka’s direction. “Not that he hasn’t had his share of girlfriends, and a couple of boyfriends too, for that matter,” Rose went on.

“I’m sure he has,” Marinette said coolly.

“They’ve never lasted more than a few months, though,” Rose told her, and said with studied innocence, “I think he’s still waiting for the right one to come along. Or to come back.”

Marinette ignored that, and focused her attention on how the rough bodice was sitting. The neckline was still not quite right.

“Deny it all you want, but I know there’s something in the air with you and Luka. I can feel it. My Sparkly Sense is tingling.”

“Your Sparkly Sense?” Marinette said, a little louder in disbelief than she’d meant to be, and Luka looked up. Her eyes met Luka’s over Rose’s shoulder, and he gave her a quick grin. Marinette rolled her eyes back at him.

“Like Spidey Sense,” Rose was saying, “only more sparkly. It’s never wrong.”

Luka went back to playing, and Marinette found herself watching his hands as they moved over his guitar. There was something indecently hot about the leather cuff and bracelets around his slim, strong wrist, and she got dizzy just thinking about those callused musician’s hands of his. It turned out that Rose wasn’t the only one getting ideas, and Marinette clamped down hard on that particular little daydream before it could get out of hand.

Rose saw romance everywhere she looked, but that bridge had been well and truly burned. Luka had moved on long ago from whatever damage Marinette had done to him, and there was no way that he could ever feel like that about her after the way she’d broken his heart all those years ago, even if she was willing or able to try and start anything again. She considered herself fortunate that he was willing to let her back into his life as a friend.

“We’re just good friends,” she muttered, and the piece of calico she’d been pinning shifted as Rose folded her arms. Marinette glanced up into Rose’s wide blue stare and one raised eyebrow. Rose flicked a glance back over her shoulder at Luka, and turned back to Marinette.

“Just friends, huh?” the blonde girl said, and Marinette put her hands on her hips.

“Don’t start,” she warned her friend, keeping her voice low. “We tried the whole relationship thing, remember? Do you really want to put Luka through all that again?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “That was ten years ago! You were fourteen.”

“And nothing’s changed,” Marinette said firmly. Rose didn’t look convinced, but Marinette started unpinning the back of the rough gown so that she could step out of it. “I think I’ve got enough to work on with this dress for now.”

Rose reached for her tunic and leggings, tugging them on over the slip she’d been wearing for the fitting, and Marinette folded the calico gown, careful not to dislodge any of the pins or markings. When Juleka came over for her fitting, Marinette said, “Your girlfriend is a compulsive romantic,” and Juleka grinned at her.

“Yeah,” the taller girl said, and held out her arms with professional ease while Marinette set up the pattern around her. “My life is full of unicorns, and I have glitter in places I didn’t know existed.”

Marinette pulled a face. “I did not need to know that.”

After Rose’s constant fidgeting, it was so much easier to work with Juleka, who was used to holding a position while seamstresses buzzed around her. The mock-up started to take shape much more quickly this time.

“And somehow my wedding is turning into a fairytale extravaganza,” Juleka complained, but she didn’t sound too distressed about it. At least Juleka got to be a little bit Maleficent, Marinette thought, eyeing the gown and picturing it in the shimmering black metallic fabric she planned on using.

“Luka said that Jagged’s going to be at the wedding,” Marinette said, taking another pin from the band on her wrist and frowning critically at the calico pattern piece she’d just adjusted on Juleka. On the other side of the room, Rose had started making something that involved a lot of glitter and offering the occasional critique on whatever Luka was playing.

“He’s the one who got us the venue,” Juleka said with a shrug. “Or rather, Penny did. It’s amazing how easy it is to make things happen when you’ve got Jagged Stone’s wife and personal manager organising it.”

“And you don’t…?” Marinette broke off, not quite sure how to finish the question.

“It never bothered me like it did Luka.” Juleka shot her brother a look, and Marinette followed the direction of her gaze. “And if a lingering sense of guilt means Jagged wants to spring for a château on a vineyard estate and a weekend in Bordeaux for all of us, I’m not going to stop him.”

“A vineyard in Bordeaux? That sounds lovely.”

“Yeah,” Juleka said softly, and her eyes went to Rose, surrounded by glitter and black craft paper. “Yeah, it does.”

Marinette knelt and busied herself with the fall of the calico pattern while Juleka stood there patiently in her slip. The strains of Luka’s acoustic guitar made a pleasant background as he drifted from one song to another, breaking off occasionally to call out something to Juleka or ask Rose’s opinion, and then sliding into something else. Somewhere along the way, he started singing scraps of the songs, and Marinette found herself caught by the soft, husky burr of his voice.

Luka was still the same sweet boy he’d always been, but older. Sharper. Hotter, she had to admit. The kindness that had always been in his eyes was still there, and that indefinable sense of grounded calm had only grown stronger. Luka wore maturity well, and gave the impression that he had nothing he needed to prove to anyone.

She’d been relieved to see that he still dyed his hair. That shade of ocean teal was one she always associated in her memory with Luka, although he wore it in a longer undercut now that shadowed his face when he wanted it to and left her itching to run her hands through his hair and tangle her fingers in it until she could see those eyes go as dark as the open sea.

She found herself following the angular outline of his jaw, which had lost the softer edge of his teenage years, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers along the shadow of stubble there now, down to oh god those shoulders and the swell of his biceps with the ink that coiled around his arm and along the sinews of his forearms.

The fashion designer in her that always paid attention to people and what they wore couldn’t help but notice that Luka still wore his clothes with an easy air. He wore a shirt and tie with the same casual indfference that he wore his favourite band shirt, and, if Marinette was any judge, a complete lack of interest in how he looked in either. It really wasn’t fair how attractive that indifference was, or that he looked so stupidly hot no matter what he put on.

Right now, he was wearing an old tshirt and a sleeveless hoodie that had seen better days, the heel of his heavy black boot hooked over the crossbar of his chair and idly tapping along with whatever it was he was playing on his acoustic guitar.

Marinette found herself imagining the staff and school parents, and probably more than a few of the students themselves, who probably swooned over him, and wondered if he noticed them. She drew a swift, sharp breath and suppressed the pang at the thought. Nice as it was to be back in his life, and as easy as it was to fall back into that closeness that they’d had before things had fallen apart in their teenage years, nothing had fundamentally changed. She still couldn’t ask him for more, and she certainly couldn’t give him more. No matter how much, a tiny fragment of her whispered slyly, you might really, really want to.

He laughed at something Rose said, and suggested, “Fine, Miss Disney Princess, what about this one?”

The guitar shifted and rippled into something else, and Luka sang, “All those days, watching from the windows,” with a laugh in his voice. He broke off to tell Rose, “But you might have to grow your hair out for that. Or is Juleka going to be Rapunzel at your fairytale wedding?” and then he picked up the melody again.

Marinette didn’t realise that she’d been singing along, or that Luka had dropped back to a soft hum, until she felt Juleka tap on her shoulder. Juleka pointed behind her, and she looked around to find Rose staring at her with huge, excited eyes and her hands clasped under her chin. Luka’s hands stilled on his guitar, and he gave her a warm smile.

“That. Was beautiful!” Rose squeaked. “You two sound so good together. You have to sing that for us at the wedding!”

Marinette shrank back a little, her eyes going to Luka.

“I can’t sing.”

“You sound just like Mandy Moore!” Rose insisted, but Marinette was pretty sure that that was just Rose’s enthusiasm speaking.

“You’ve got a nice voice,” Luka said more moderately from the chair where he was bent over his guitar. “Sweet, with a little rough around the edges. It’s nice.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as he strummed a random chord. “And you can sing on key.”

Luka couldn’t lie to save himself when it came to matters of music, no matter how much he might want to spare a friend’s feelings, and Marinette felt a little reassured.

“I’m already making your wedding dresses,” she told Rose. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s just one little song,” Rose pleaded. Those big, Bambi eyes were dangerous, and Marinette could only hope that Rose used them for good and not evil. “One little song. Hardly anything. Please??”

Marinette shot Luka a surreptitious glance, but he was focused on the soft music he was playing again and all she could see was the fall of his blue dyed hair and the sharp line of his jaw. She sighed in surrender.

Rose beamed triumphantly. “Oh, this is going to be so good!” She clapped her hands together, and got a look of cunning that left Marinette feeling uneasy. “You two are going to need to practise together. We’ll leave you to work it out.”

And she hauled Juleka out of the room, towing the taller girl with surprising strength. The door closed firmly on Juleka’s protests, and Luka and Marinette exchanged glances. Marinette couldn’t help laughing, a little helplessly.

“Rose is not subtle.”

“Ro’s the eternal romantic. I think she’s decided that if she throws us at each other hard enough, the magic will happen. She’ll get over it.”

The guitar strings sang At last I see the light, and he raised an eyebrow at her in a question.

“You really want to do this?” she asked him. “I’m not a singer.”

“You can hold a tune, and you know most of the words already.” Luka’s smile grew wider. “I’m a pretty poor music teacher if I can’t get us through one song.”

She let out a small huff, and Luka’s eyes grew soft with concern. “If you don’t want to, I’ll talk Rose out of it.”

“Is that even possible?” Marinette muttered, and Luka chuckled.

“I have my ways.”

Marinette considered it for a long moment, then, against her better judgement, she shook her head. “I might as well give in now as later,” she told him. “The things I do for my friends.”

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he insisted. His ocean blue eyes were still on her, giving her that look that saw more than they should, and Marinette remembered sixteen year old Luka telling her You can tell me everything, or nothing if you prefer as he held her while she fell apart. And she’d wanted to tell him everything. She’d come within a breath of spilling all her secrets and risking the safety of everyone she cared about to keep him.

Looking into his eyes now, Marinette had a bad feeling that the man Luka had become would be even harder to walk away from than the sweet sixteen year old boy he’d been. So it was just as well that Rose and her Sparkly Sense was way off base.

“What have I gotten myself into?” she sighed.

#lukanette #pro lukamari #i see the light #it's disney

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 4 years ago

Text

Map of the Soul, Drabble #2

Drabble #2 - A Prom Dress Fit for a Princess

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 7K+

Warnings: NSFW 18+ cursing, sexual tension, groping, oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, suggestive language, protected consensual sex,

“Why can’t we just have a normal theme for Prom?” you scoffed while looking at the garish poster in the hallway. “This theme is totally isolating people who are planning on going to Prom without dates.”

“Costumes aren’t just for couples, sweetheart,” a warm voice mutters behind you. “Must you make everything into an argument?”

You grinned at the playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t shake the need to validate your argument. You refused to turn around because you knew that the moment you saw that heart-shaped smile, you’d lose any and all conviction in furthering your point.

“I’m just saying that not everyone is going to fit into this theme,” you continued. “What if someone wanted to go alone or in a group? What do those people do for costumes? The only depictions on this poster are couples. That’s very discouraging.”

“What is so discouraging about Romeo & Juliet?” the voice countered. “That’s classic literature and totally your thing.”

“A poor example, at best,” you snorted. “Unless you’re trying to go for a lame teenage romance gone completely wrong. They would not be my first choice in literary couples.”

“Oh yeah?” the voice challenged. “Name one better than Romeo & Juliet. I dare you.”

“The Little Prince and his Rose,” you argued. “Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy! Shrek and Fiona!”

Suddenly, you were whirled around and into the arms of a very handsome and very annoyed boy who was clearly not happy with your examples.

“There is no way I’m painting myself green,” the handsome boy growled. “There are limits to my love, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?” you snickered at him. “You were going to be Fiona. I was going to be Shrek. Haven’t you heard of genderbent costumes, Hobi?”

Jung Hoseok rolled his eyes at you as you burst into a fit of giggles imagining him in a green ensemble complete with red wig and golden tiara. Your giggles ceased abruptly as he tugged you into a nook in the hallway and pressed his lips onto yours. It was a simple kiss, but it was enough to shut you up. Before either of you got any ideas about flaunting your PDA in the middle of the high school, Hoseok pulled away and shook his head in mock exasperation. You’d been dating for nearly a year and you still knew exactly what to do and say to get him riled up and pouting.

“You’re always teasing me, sweetheart,” Hoseok whined cutely. “One of these days, I’m going to have to punish you for being so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” you cooed. “It’s just so much fun to see your feathers all ruffled.”

“No feathers and no sequins,” Hoseok commanded. “Like I said before, I have limits.”

“Fine, then we won’t be Shrek and Fiona,” you relented. “I’m sure we can figure out an amazing costume for Prom. But seriously, honey, the Prom committee should try to make some posters that are more inclusive. Maybe like group or solo costumes?”

“Ok, ok,” Hoseok exclaimed. “I will talk to our marketing person and see if they can make some extra posters. I can’t have the Prom Committee Chair’s girlfriend starting a ruckus over inclusivity.”

“Thank you, my love,” you replied while planting a kiss on his flushed cheek. “Now, let’s get to class. We’re starting a new project in Theatre today.”

Hand in hand, the two of you rushed off to your next class with thoughts of Prom floating around your head. -------------------------------

“This is going to be an amazing project, baby!” Hoseok cheered. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah,” you sighed. “But there are just so many options, it’s difficult to choose just one.”

Your Theatre teacher’s words echoed in your mind and you scrolled through the search results on your phone.

Your next project is to create a Fairy Tale Performance. Choose a fairytale, create your own costumes, props, and design a set. You will be performing for the elementary students in about three weeks and you will be graded on your theatrical choices and how the audience reacts to your performance.

“What about Hansel and Gretel?” you suggested. “I think you’d look cute in lederhosen and I can totally pull off wooden clogs and braids.”

“Ewww, pass,” Hoseok winced. “That would require a lot of set design and we’d have to find a witch. I want something that is just for the two of us.”

“Ok, then what about Rapunzel?” you offered. “It might be fun to make a massive braided wig and drape it all over the stage.”

“What is it with you and braids?” Hoseok chuckled. “No, I think we can do better.”

“Well, then you pick something, Hobi,” you huffed. “I’ve already suggested over a dozen different fairy tales. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Something unique,” he smiled. “Something just for us.”

Hand in hand, you were both deep in thought as you arrived at the community theatre to visit Hoseok’s mother. She was the head seamstress in the costume department, and Hoseok started interning as her assistant the summer before his senior year. Throughout his tenure at the theatre, Hoseok gained invaluable knowledge and skills about sewing, costuming, and all things theatre.

“Hello, Mama,” Hoseok chirped as he popped his head into the costume shop. “What are you working on today?”

Hoseok’s mother smiled softly while running layers of fabric through her sewing machine. Yards and yards of colorful silks and satin were draped across her mannequins and you marveled at the scene before you.

“Hello, my son,” Mrs. Jung replied after lifting her needle and cutting away the excess from the garment she was working on. “I’m prepping costumes for the next musical production that is set to start in about a month. It’s going to be a large cast, so I need to have some starter costumes ready for fittings. What about you two? To what do I owe this honor?

“We have a project for our Theatre class,” Hoseok explained. “I was hoping I could convince my wonderful mother to help me make some costumes.”

Mrs. Jung chuckled slightly and walked over to an empty mannequin to drape the newly sewn garment. She began pinning more pieces to the costume and she motioned in your direction to get more pins, which you quickly brought to her.

“Thank you, dear,” she said while pinching your cheek playfully. “It’s so lovely having someone around who helps me instead of demanding more work in my already busy schedule.”

“Mama,” Hoseok whined cutely. “You know I would do this on my own if I could-”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Jung cheered. “I’m so glad that you’ve finally realized your potential, son. Use whatever you need in the shop, but please try to stay out of my way. Mama has a big production coming up and these costumes are excessively complicated to create. I’m so proud of you, Hoseokie.”

With a pat on his chin, Mrs. Jung was able to help Hoseok close his dropped jaw and she tossed a wink your way as she walked into her supply closet. Hoseok dropped his head in defeat and pouted as he walked toward you.

“I guess we’re on our own, baby,” Hoseok grumbled. “I thought for sure she’d help me out with some ideas.”

“Hobi, didn’t you hear her?” you admonished softly. “She knows you can do this on your own, and besides, she’s hella busy right now. I think we can do this, yeah?”

Hoseok sighed and sank into a seat at the spare drafting table in the costume shop. All throughout the summer, this station was his little creative corner. The two of you had even written your names on the wall by his station, complete with hearts and flowers. You glanced at the empty table and decided to help your grumpy honey along with his creative process.

You grabbed a sketch pad and several pencils from a nearby shelf and placed them on the table in front of him. When he refused to budge, you took up a pencil and started sketching out stick figures with your amateur drawing skills. Under each figure, you wrote the words “Prince” and “Princess” and looked up at him with your imploring eyes.

“Ok, Hobi, here’s the deal,” you began. “I will be your assistant seamstress if you can design us some costumes fit for royalty. If we’re going to put so much effort into this project, we might as well get more use out of these costumes. Let’s make them so nice that we can wear them to Prom. This will be our couple’s costume!”

“I thought you were against the couple's costumes,” Hoseok challenged. “Weren’t you just giving me grief about this at school, my love?”

“I was challenging the committee’s lack of inclusion, not the couple’s costumes,” you corrected. “Besides, we’re a couple. We should go as a matching pair. Just us.”

Hoseok sighed and pulled you into his arms with a whiny groan. You could actually feel him smiling into the crook of your neck, so you allowed him a little time to get all the exaggerated dismay out of his system. After planting a kiss on your forehead, Hoseok finally relented and grabbed the pencil out of your hand.

“Ok, fine,” he grumbled playfully. “I’ll design us some fairytale/Prom outfits, but I need something to go off of. Break out those books you got from the library and let’s pick our royal pair.”

Mrs. Jung wandered out as you were perusing the books next to the workstation and when she looked over Hoseok’s shoulder to see him sketching out foundational design concepts, she hummed thoughtfully.

Hoseok stopped drawing and tapped his pencil on the table, signaling his slight annoyance at his mother’s hovering.

“Yes, Mama?” Hoseok asked sweetly. “Did you want to say something?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Mrs. Jung assured him. “I was just looking at your sketches. What is your project exactly?”

“We have to perform a fairytale for the elementary students,” you explained. “But we also want to use the costumes for Prom, so I’m trying to find a prince and princess pair for us in one of these books.”

“I see,” Mrs. Jung responded. “Did you find a Korean fairytale then?”

“Not yet,” you replied. “I’m still looking.”

“Really?” Mrs. Jung replied with a tilt of her head. “Then why is Hoseokie drawing a hanbok?”

You stepped over to look at Hoseok’s drawing, and sure enough, there was a figure wearing a stylish hanbok on the page. Hoseok tilted his head in confusion at his drawing and shrugged with a giggle.

“Just drawing what I know, I guess,” Hoseok grinned. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Hobi,” you smiled. “That actually looks beautiful. Do you want me to find a Korean fairytale then?”

“Oh, you won’t find many Korean fairytales about princes or princesses, my dear,” Mrs. Jung explained. “Our culture doesn’t have a Cinderella or a Snow White. It’s a shame, really. You would look radiant in a hwarot, sweetheart, and my Hoseokie would look so dashing in a classic hanbok.”

“Well, maybe they don’t have to be a part of the story,” you suggested. “Maybe Hoseok and I can just dress up as Korean royalty and recite a Korean fairytale like that?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” Hoseok beamed. “I could make our costumes look amazing and we can just act like royal storytellers.”

“And then we can wear the costumes to Prom!” you gushed. “Oh, Hobi, it’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Hoseok called out as Mrs. Jung made her way back to the sewing machine.

“For what?” Mrs. Jung smirked. “I didn’t do anything.” ------------------

After a few days of sketching, Hoseok finally had two amazing designs prepared for your costumes. His traditional hanbok had a few modern embellishments and he was planning all sorts of accessories to accent the outfit completely. Additionally, Hoseok scoured Korean history books for images and designs for a proper hwarot that only a Korean princess could wear. Side by side, the outfits were going to look phenomenal, and you were so excited to start making them.

Hoseok already had his own measurements, and you were eager for him to take your measurements so he could start pulling fabric for your gown. Mrs. Jung set aside several bolts of colorful fabric that Hoseok noticed were reflecting the colors of the Korean flag. Bold royal blue silk and vibrant red brocade joined piles of black satin, gold ribbons, and delicate strands of beads surrounding Hoseok’s workstation.

You arrived at the theatre after your marching band rehearsal, and you hoped that Hoseok didn’t mind that you were dressed in shorts and a baggy T-shirt. Once you entered the costume shop, your worries were allayed when Hoseok handed you a simple muslin tunic to put on.

“You’re going to have to wear this under the hwarot,” Hoseok explained. “I’ll be able to get better measurements this way. Don’t worry if it’s loose. The other garments will layer over it.”

You slipped away to the dressing room to change and when you returned, Hoseok was nowhere to be found. You wandered around backstage and eventually came across the empty stage with the ghost light shining brightly across the theatre. Light classical music could be heard from the backstage area, and you couldn’t help swaying and spinning in time with the music.

As you made your way across the stage, you imagined you were performing for a packed audience and your movements increased dramatically. You fictionalized a ballet where you were seeking out your lost love, and you focused on the ghost light stand as your absent prince. You ended your impromptu performance by embracing the ghost light and were startled by sudden applause emanating from the wings.

“Bravo, princess,” Hoseok called out. “Magnificent!”

You swiped at your burning cheeks and pranced into the wings to bury your face into his shoulder. As embarrassed as you were, Hoseok knew better than to tease you for too long. You pulled back and pouted at his brilliant smile, which prompted him to assault your face with a dozen kisses. You giggled at first, but the lighthearted feeling in your chest shifted into something steamier as Hoseok nipped at the sensitive spot on your neck. You pulled him back behind the curtain and proceeded to devour his lips hungrily.

You half expected Hoseok to put a stop to your lustful advances, but there was something different about Hoseok now. His hands were not resting tentatively on your hips, but were grasping at your skin and sliding back against your ass. His hips refused to keep their distance, instead choosing to grind against your stomach, revealing a hearty erection. His voice lacked any of the whiny nature you usually heard, but instead housed a deep growl which sent shivers down your spine.

“Hobi,” you whispered. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s this slip you have on, princess,” Hoseok explained while nibbling on your ear. “It’s practically sheer under those lights. You have no idea how incredible you looked dancing around like that.”

“Oh yeah?” you gasped as he reached up to fondle your breast. “Did you like what you saw?”

“You have no idea,” Hoseok groaned. “It was so hot. I just want to keep touching you. Maybe unwrap you like a birthday present?”

You moaned lightly at his suggestion and reached between you to grip the stiffness pressing against your stomach. Hoseok’s hips shot forward and he stilled completely in your arms.

Before he could refuse, you reached in and took a hold of his hardened length and began stroking it slowly. Hoseok braced his arms against the wall and huffed out a groan at your ministrations. Sensing that this needed to be something quick, you dropped to your knees and wrapped your lips around the strained head of his penis. Hoseok’s moan was muffled as he buried his face into arm, and he restrained his hips from thrusting forward as you brought him to his climax effortlessly.

Hoseok still marveled at your insistence of swallowing while going down on him, but he respected your decision. Who was he to argue if your main concern was cleaning up an unnecessary mess? Hoseok helped you back to your feet and sought out your lips, not even caring that he could taste his own cum in your mouth. As hot and heavy as things were getting, one of you needed to get a grip on the situation before you got busted.

“Shit,” Hoseok breathed out while leaning his forehead against your own. “We can’t do this, princess.”

“I know, Hobi,” you sighed out airily. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fooling around in the theatre. Your mom would kill us.”

“I mean, yeah, you’re right, she would,” Hoseok chuckled. “But I meant that I’m still not ready to go any further.”

“Hobi,” you replied with worry. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything, my love. I told you I would wait and I meant it.”

“I know,” Hoseok grumbled. “But a few more minutes of this and I won’t be able to control myself, so we need to stop.”

"Oh, yeah?" you smirked. "What happened to all that self control of yours? Did you lose it somewhere?"

"Yeah," Hoseok sighed while gripping your hips. "It went out the window when I saw you in this slip, princess."

You pressed one last kiss to Hoseok’s lips and you straightened out your clothing before heading back to the costume shop. You both stopped at the bathroom to freshen up and then strolled back to the costume shop hand in hand.

The rest of the afternoon was ripe with sexual tension, and every time Hoseok’s fingers danced across your skin as he took your measurements, you fought the urge to shiver or whine or make any kind of sound that would sound sensual in any way. Hoseok was also struggling while on his knees in front you, inhaling the faint smell of your arousal through the thin muslin.

After that sexually charged work session, you and Hoseok agreed to go out for dinner, but first, you both ended up in the backseat of your car with your legs over his shoulders and his tongue buried in your dripping cunt. Several orgasms later, you were both satiated and decided to end the night with a quick bite to eat at your favorite drive-in restaurant. While you were stealing some of his curly fries, you noticed a pensive look on Hoseok’s face.

“What’s the matter, Hobi?” you asked. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok stated unconvincingly. “It’s fine.”

“Hobi,” you sighed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

Hoseok's shoulders sagged as he put his half-eaten burger on the dashboard and turned toward you in his seat. You followed his lead and did the same, apprehension clouding your mind as you took in the furrowed brows on your boyfriend’s face.

“Are you happy with me, princess?” Hoseok murmured quietly. “Are you sure that I’m enough for you?”

“What are you talking about, Hobi?” you blurted out. “Of course, I’m happy with you! I love you so much, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I know you love me,” Hoseok pouted. “And I love you too, but sometimes, I feel like maybe you wish I could give you more. I know we’ve already talked about this a lot, but it still bothers me when I pull away from you like I did earlier.”

“Baby,” you cooed. “Have I ever given you any indication that I’m not totally satisfied in our relationship?”

“No,” Hoseok admitted. “But I know you’re used to more than what I’m giving you. I know you and Taehyung were very active, and I feel like I could never measure up to him. I mean, you guys call each other soulmates. How am I not supposed to wonder whether he could give you more than I can?”

You leaned forward and cupped Hoseok’s face with your hands. The distress on his face was unbearable and you resisted the urge to plant a million kisses on his face so that you could assuage his grief.

“Soulmate or not, Taehyung is not you,” you reminded him. “I love you, Jung Hoseok, and it doesn’t matter that you’re a virgin and I’m not. You are all I need, and you have nothing to prove to me or anyone else. Just be you, Hobi. That is more than enough for me.”

Hoseok took a deep breath and nodded as best he could with his face squished between your palms. You smiled at the glimmer of hope in his eyes and you prayed that he believed the truth of your words. You leaned in to press a kiss onto his lips and when you pulled away, his face broke into a vibrant smile. The glassy look in his eyes confirmed that he was on the verge of tears and you hated that he was torturing himself unnecessarily. You grabbed a napkin and tried to dab at the corners of his eyes, but he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist

“I’m ok, princess,” Hoseok assured you. “I’m just so happy that you feel that way. I know I get a little insecure about our physical relationship, but you never fail to make me feel so loved and wanted. Thank you for that.”

With a kiss to your wrist, Hoseok released the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders in a long exhale. He took the napkin from your hand and dabbed at his misty eyes comically to drain his lashes of the tears he’d been holding back. You couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at comedy in the midst of your serious discussion, but that was your Hoseok.

Such an amazing person. How did I get so lucky? ------------------

“Can you hand me that black ribbon, princess?” Hoseok called out from behind the mannequin. “The velvet one, not the satin one.”

You grabbed the three black ribbons that looked like velvet and offered them to Hoseok, who was kneeling and pinning ribbons to the back of his hanbok. He looked up at you and grinned at the options you displayed in your hands. After grabbing one of the spools, he shook his head and started pinning more ribbon to the flowing fabric.

“Do we need to review fabrics again, princess?” Hoseok joked. “Didn’t we cover this over the summer?”

“Hobi,” you groaned. “A lot of these ribbons look the same. How am I supposed to keep them all straight? That’s your job.”

He simply chuckled and snipped the ribbon on the spool before pinning the last bit of ribbon on the edge of the hanbok’s hem. As he stood, he examined the other bits of fabric and ribbon pinned to his creation and hummed in satisfaction. He emerged from behind the mannequin and set down his sewing supplies on the workstation. After pulling you into a back hug, he leaned his head on your shoulder and sighed happily.

“So, what do you think, princess?” he questioned playfully. “Do you like it? Is this what you imagined your prince wearing?”

You dragged your gaze across the bold colors, the clever embellishments, and the hint of modern flair that Hoseok managed to imbue into his creation and you were astonished. You knew he was skilled, but this latest creation was beyond anything you’d expected. His hanbok was worthy of being displayed in a museum; such intricacy, such craftsmanship, such finery.

“It’s perfect, Hobi,” you exhaled. “You truly are a master at this.”

“I’d say so,” piped up a voice from the corner of the room.

You and Hoseok turned to look over at Mrs. Jung who was hanging up another one of her prepped costumes on a hanger. It was magnificent and you were dazzled by the brilliant green and yellow accents she’d applied to the blue skirting. She brushed away a few wrinkles and stepped forward to look at her son’s garment.

“The line work is very good, Hoseokie,” she complimented. “I like how you took the original design and made it your own. A lot of heart went into this, I can tell. Well done, my son.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok beamed. “I can’t take all the credit though. I had an amazing teacher.”

Mother and son smiled brilliantly at each other before stepping forward for a tight hug. Mrs. Jung pulled a handkerchief from her apron and gently dabbed at her eyes. Hoseok cleared his throat awkwardly and sniffled slightly before lifting his mother’s free hand into his own. Their eyes met and glowed with affection and unbridled respect.

“Eomma,” Hoseok addressed his mother kindly. “Thank you for teaching me everything. I only hope that I can reproduce a fraction of your passion and talent. You inspire me to do great things, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all of the time we spend in this shop together.”

“Jung Hoseok,” his mother smiled. “It is not your talent which brings me pride. It is the dedication to your work which makes me happy. You’re an artist, son. I only sought to nurture the skills you already possessed naturally.”

Hoseok kissed her hand and she ruffled his hair before going back across the room and into the storage closet. You grabbed another tissue and dabbed at the tears which manifested while watching the tender moment between mother and son. Hoseok smiled softly at your emotional reaction and pulled you into his arms to soothe your tears.

“There, there, princess,” he said sweetly. “You don’t have to cry on my account.”

“I’m not,” you pouted. “That was just incredibly moving. You and your mom are #LifeGoals. I don’t have that kind of relationship with my mom.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok agreed. “But you do get all mushy and sweet with your dad. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“I guess you’re right,” you relented. “I don’t know how you’re going to be able to finish my outfit. This one took you quite some time to complete and it isn’t even sewn together yet. Are you sure we didn’t take on too much, Hobi?”

“Not to worry, princess,” Hobi grinned. “Your hwarot was done yesterday.”

Hoseok stepped around you and pulled a sheet off of the mannequin behind you. You gasped at the glory he revealed and reached out a trembling hand to run your fingers across the royal blue satin of the bodice.

“Oh, Hobi,” you whispered. “It’s breathtaking.”

You explored the various folds of blue fabric, the silver brocade accents, the black ribbons sewn into the bodice creating a fitted curvature that stepped away from traditional and spoke of a modern interpretation of the original design. The hwarot he’d sketched originally was an exact replica of the designs in the history books, but this new iteration was unique and fresh while still maintaining the original structure of the gown.

“How did you come up with this design, Hobi?” you cooed. “It’s amazing.”

“Well, I started out with the original design,” Hoseok explained. “But honestly, I just kept thinking about you in that slip dancing around the stage. I couldn’t get your curves out of my head, so I decided to highlight them a little with those lines on the bodice. You were my inspiration, princess.”

You blushed under his praise and stepped behind the hwarot to look at the intricate lacing on the back of the bodice. The collar of the hwarot remained intact, but there was a large section under the collar that was left open. The bodice started lacing just above where your bra line started and continued down to the hip line before billowing out thanks to the petticoat underneath.

“This is the most incredible costume I’ve ever seen, Hobi,” you gushed. “I can’t get over how gorgeous it is.”

Hoseok reached over and took your hands into his own before kissing the tops of both. You smiled as brought you closer to him, pulling your hands to his chest.

“A gorgeous gown for my gorgeous princess,” Hoseok grinned. “The only thing more beautiful than this gown is you, my love. I can’t wait to see you in it.”

With a final kiss to your forehead, Hoseok stepped back to his hanbok and began pulling it off the mannequin so he could start sewing everything together. You changed into your muslin slip and Mrs. Jung took a few moments to help you into the completed hwarot, much to Hoseok’s pleasure. The compliments and praise showered upon you and Hoseok brought unimaginable joy to Mrs. Jung and she quickly excused herself once again to dab away the tears from her face.

After both outfits were sewn together and a final fitting took place, you and Hoseok gathered your things and gave Mrs. Jung a heartfelt goodbye. Your presentation was less than a week away and Prom was happening immediately after that. It was time to get ready to premiere Hoseok’s greatest creation. --------------------

“You guys were amazing today,” Hyejin gushed. “The kids loved your presentation. My little brother was talking to all of his friends about it.”

“Thanks,” you cheered while carefully arranging your hwarot into its garment bag. “It was so much fun. Hobi is such a ham. He was a hit as the goofy prince.”

“And you were the envy of every girl in our class,” Hyejin sighed. “That dress is absolutely gorgeous. I still can’t believe that he sewed your outfits himself. The man is crazy talented.”

“Tell me about it,” you giggled. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” came a voice from the hallway. “Are you talking about me, princess?”

Hoseok appeared with his garment bag and another tote full of accessories. As you finished packing up your gown, he collected the various props you’d placed on the desk.

“I was talking about you, my prince,” you cooed. “You were incredible today.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed while bowing with a red plush dragon in his hand. “If I was incredible, then you were superb, princess. The kids loved you and I can confidently say that we aced that presentation.”

“Well, I’ve gotta head to practice,” Hyejin announced while gathering her things. “I’ll see you guys at Prom tomorrow.”

You both said your goodbyes to Hyejin as she skipped out the door and you zipped up your garment bag after folding the last yard of fabric inside and securing the hanger. Hoseok placed the last bauble into his tote and zipped it up as well. He looked over at you and opened his arms comically.

“Come here, princess,” he demanded. “Give your prince a hug.”

You leaned into his embrace and the two of you just held each other for a few moments, allowing the excitement of the afternoon to dwindle into a pleasant buzz. You leaned your head back to look into Hoseok’s face and the two of you smiled as your eyes met.

“I’m so proud of you, Hobi,” you said. “You never cease to amaze me. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

“I’m the lucky one, princess,” Hoseok corrected while tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I get to have this incredible, beautiful, sexy girl in my life. You make me feel so loved. I just wish you could understand how much you mean to me.”

You shook your head at his sentiment and kissed his lips. As you pulled away, he continued to look at you like the answers to the universe were in your eyes.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you giggled and booped him on the nose before turning to gather your things. You turned to see Hoseok staring at you fondly with hooded lids and a devious smirk.

"What, Hobi?" you pried. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Hoseok shrugged. "Just thinking about how beautiful my princess looked in that gown. I can't wait to see you in it tomorrow at Prom."

"Well," you teased while pinching his cheek playfully. "I will make sure that I am very careful when I get dressed tomorrow. I want to look extra special for my prince."

Hoseok waited until you were almost to the door before he reached over to grab his bags.

"You be careful putting it on," he murmured quietly, just out of earshot. "I'll be careful taking it off."

You missed the mischievous smirk on Hoseok's face because as soon as you turned around, it was replaced by a glowing smile.

"Let's go, princess," Hoseok chirped. "I have a lot to do before tomorrow and so do you."

Hoseok placed another lingering kiss on your lips and headed down the hallway next to you.

It's time. ------------------

The lights were flashing and the music was pulsating throughout the ballroom. After posing for your Prom portraits and making the rounds to all your friends, you and Hoseok were seated with a random assortment of refreshments.

"Isn't it wonderful, Hobi?" you gushed. "You and the committee did an amazing job. Everyone looks so good in their outfits!"

"Not as good as you look, princess," Hoseok commented. "Not one person holds a candle to you tonight."

'It's all because of you Hobi," you exclaimed. "You created a masterpiece when you made these outfits."

"Only because you were my Muse," Hoseok purred. "Care to dance, princess? Let's show off my inspiration to everyone."

You nodded enthusiastically and took his hand as he escorted you to the dance floor. The music transitioned into a thumping R&B tune and Hoseok pulled your arms around his neck as he swiveled and gyrated his hips to the sultry beat. You hummed with satisfaction as his thigh pressed in between your legs, mere inches from your center.

You were both sweaty with exertion and when the R&B groove gave way to a slow melodic love song, you both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whew," you breathed out. “That was fun, but I need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Already, princess?” Hoseok teased. “I thought you’d have more stamina than that.”

You pouted and smacked his arm playfully and his giggles filled your ears deliciously. With the multicolored lights bouncing across the dance floor and the light dusting of imitation fog, you twirled around the dance floor with your handsome prince. He spun you around once again and you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling at his sparkling eyes and buoyant smile. When the song switched to another slow song, you sighed happily and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Once more around the ballroom, princess?” Hoseok asked sweetly. “Or are you done making everyone else jealous with your unparalleled beauty?”

You nodded against his shoulder and he waltzed the two of you into a shadowy corner of the dance floor. You were in the midst of soaking up this romantic moment when Hoseok’s hands began to wander into the silken folds of your gown and your breath hitched when his fingers found your center.

“Hobi,” you squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“You look incredible in that gown, princess,” he breathed out huskily. “I can only imagine how you’d look without it on.”

Your eyes widened significantly and you pulled back to look at Hoseok’s face. Full blown lust was darkening his gaze and the dimples around his lips deepened as he grinned. You’d seen your boyfriend aroused before, but this was something else entirely.

“Hobi,” you exhaled shakily. “What’s gotten into you?”

His smile softened and he leaned in to kiss your lips gently, raising a hand behind your neck to hold you in place as you shared the sweetest collection of kisses he had to offer.

“Princess,” he murmured against your lips. “This past year with you has been one of the happiest of my life. I can’t even remember what my life was like before you were in it.”

“Oh, Hobi,” you shivered. “You make me happy too. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too” Hoseok whispered into your ear. “In fact, I love you so much that I might have built up this impossible image in my mind that you are untouchable and precious. So precious that you will break if I push you too hard.”

“I’m not a delicate little flower, Hobi,” you grumbled. “And you haven’t been pushing me at all. If anything, I feel like I’m the one pushing you sometimes.”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok snapped. “You’ve been nothing but patient and understanding, and I am so grateful that you allowed me to come to terms with my virginity on my own.”

“Hobi,” you whined. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin. I already told you that. We don’t have to do anything just because I have before. I just want to be with you. That’s all I need.”

“I know,” Hoseok sighed. “And it only makes me love you more.”

Hoseok punctuated his statement with another kiss to your lips, lingering on your bottom lip and nibbling on it hungrily. You were thankful for the lack of lighting in this corner and the excess fog collected around you. You didn’t want to get kicked out of Prom for making out with your boyfriend on the dance floor.

“I know this is going to sound totally cliché,” Hoseok murmured against your lips. “But I really want to make this prom night memorable. I think I’m ready to make love to you, princess. Will you let me show you just how much I love you?”

You shivered with excitement and took a moment to fully appreciate the look on his face, your thighs clenching at the unbidden desire pulsing in his dilated pupils, and you bit your lip with anticipation.

“Yes, Hobi,” you smiled demurely. “I’m ready.”

Before the music could stop playing, you wandered back to your table to gather your things. After a quick stop at the bathroom, you walked back into the parking lot toward Hoseok’s vehicle. Your options were limited since you were both still high school students living at home, so Hoseok made a split second decision and drove toward the coast. --------------------------

“Hand me that other blanket, princess,” Hoseok instructed. “Go ahead and take off your shoes. You can leave them in the front seat.”

As Hoseok laid yet another blanket in the back, you thanked the gods for his SUV and the seats that folded down to a nice level plane. After layering a few fluffy blankets from your last camping trip, there was a nice layer of comfort for you both to lay on. Once you discarded your shoes and accessories, Hoseok was careful to undress and hang his outer layers across the back windows. He helped you do the same and stretched your gown across the front seats so that you were tented in with the vibrant colors of the Korean flag.

Hoseok’s undershirt and boxers were clinging to his body with perspiration, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from roving across your own body covered with that simple muslin slip. With practiced precision, he reached down and ran his fingers from your exposed ankle all the way up to the slit across your thigh.

“I’ve been waiting to touch you in this slip since that day I caught you dancing in the theatre,” Hoseok admitted. “You were so intoxicating in that spotlight, your curves clearly visible under this thin material for my eyes only. I think I fell for you all over again that day.”

You shuffled closer and placed your hand on his cheek, shivering when his palm slid further up your thigh to your hip.

“I fall for you every day, Hobi,” you replied. “I feel so precious and desirable when I’m with you.”

“You should always feel like that,” Hoseok insisted. “Because that’s what you are, princess. Precious and the only thing that I truly desire.”

As soon as those words left Hoseok’s lips, he pulled you closer so he could devour your lips, his hand tangling into your hair while the other pushed your slip up further. In between heated kisses, you both began discarding your remaining articles of clothing until you were both left completely bare, grinding against each other in search of friction.

“Wait, princess,” Hoseok gasped as your hand wrapped around his stiff length. “Let me get the condoms.”

Hoseok reached between the seats and pulled out a 12-pack of condoms from his tote. Your eyes widened at the extra large pack, and you gawked at the open box that was clearly only half full.

“Umm, Hobi,” you queried. “What happened to all the other condoms in that box?”

“Oh,” Hoseok grumbled. “I wanted to get some practice putting one on and it took a few tries to get it right.”

You giggled at his embarrassment and kissed his flushed cheeks. Once the passion reignited, you were both fumbling with the foil square, trying to get it open and onto his swollen dick.

“Hold on, princess,” Hoseok groaned. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Hoseok shifted further down and latched onto your hardened nipple while dipping his slender fingers into your flooded depths. After stroking your clit and inserting not one, not two, but three fingers into you, Hoseok shuffled his body in between your legs and then paused. His heavy breathing was either a product of his passion or his lingering anxiety. You were about to reassure him that there was no need to rush, but he started rubbing the tip of his penis along your folds and you lost all sense of reason.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you moaned. “That feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of stopping,” Hoseok groaned. “In fact, I think I want more, princess.”

Hoseok shifted his hips forward and slipped into your hot center, earning him an even louder moan from you. You arched your back and encouraged him to thrust even deeper into you, which proved to be his breaking point.

“Shit,” Hoseok growled. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. How the fuck did I go so long without doing this with you, princess?”

He pulled back and slammed forward with more force and the high pitched “Hobi” you released made him grin.

“That’s right, princess,” Hoseok encouraged. “Let it all out. Tell the world who’s making you feel this good. Tell them who you belong to.”

Once the initial shock wore off, Hoseok found that his body and yours were a perfect fit. The more he gave, the more you took, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces, his hips continuously snapping into you, his hands gripping your ass and shoulder for leverage, your nails digging into his back with delicious licks of pain, your legs wrapped around his waist, your voice begging for more.

He was so enthralled with you, and he completely ignored any indicators that his body was heading toward any type of climax. Usually, he’d blow his load after you’d blown him for a few minutes or after you’d given him a short hand job. But now, he unearthed a mountain of stamina and only your cries of pleasure captured his attention. There was no way you were ending this night until he’d given you several orgasms. His own pleasure was shelved to serve you and nothing else mattered.

Once you were both sated, you cuddled against his sweaty chest trying to catch your breath after so much exertion. Hoseok trailed his fingers up and down your back and continued to kiss every inch he could reach. You never felt so revered or loved before.

“This really was the perfect evening,” you commented. “I wish it could last forever.”

“Forever?” Hoseok inquired. “Is that what my princess wants? Then that’s what I’ll give her.”

You hummed your assent and lifted your head to kiss him again. The hazy look in his eyes was a testament to his love and you thanked the gods for blessing you with such an amazing man in your life. The night was indeed memorable and you were somewhat disappointed when you had to put your clothes back on so he could take you home.

“Come on, princess,” Hoseok coaxed. “Our parents will kill us if we stay out all night. We’re already going to be late as it is.”

“I know,” you grumbled while pulling on your underwear. “I just feel like I won’t get many more of these nights with you. You’re graduating in a few months and then you’re leaving me to go to college.”

“Don’t say it like that, princess.” Hoseok admonished. “You only have one more year left and then you’ll be doing the same. There is a lot of time between now and when I have to leave. We’ll figure something out.”

“You promise?” you pouted.

“I promise,” Hoseok chuckled as he kissed your pouty lips. “Now, let’s get you home.”

You drove off away from the coast with the windows down, trying to air out the smell of sweat and sex from his vehicle. Once you pulled back into town, you raised the windows so you could fix your hair. If anyone saw you walking in with “sex hair,” you’d never hear the end of it. You took another glance at Hoseok, eyeing the flush of color dusting across his face after your sexual escapade, and you smiled.

Such a handsome prince. I hope nothing ever pulls us apart. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that.

You pulled his hand into your own and looked out at the flashing landscape. Prom night may have been cliché, but no one could convince you that it hadn’t been perfect.

Author’s Note: Just a little drabble for the biggest ball of sunshine in the world! Thank you to my lovely soulmate @xxxille-girlxxx for helping me beta read this. Enjoy a little slice of hope with me ^-^

MAP OF THE SOUL MASTERLIST

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

#Map of the soul #bts drabble #Jung HoSeok #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts au fic #BTS au #bts angst #prom #hobi smut

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

The Crackship Sails To Molly’s-I’m Not A Nurse - Rheese - Connor Rhodes x Sarah Reese

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: My second Halloween fic, and my first Rheese fic, hope you guys like it!

Warnings: swearing, mention of drugs, mention of how Halloween has been oversexualized, Protective!Ethan, seriously he threatens him and it’s a little intense

Sarah used to love Halloween. Her favourite nanny, Katya, used to be a seamstress and so she would hand make Sarah’s costumes. Sarah had loved it so much that she’d actually gotten the older woman to teach her how to sew, something that came in handy later in life for suturing, and she had been making her own costumes since Katya left to pursue another career. But as she got older new problems arose. Starting at fourteen she was expected to dress in... Revealing costumes. And Sarah did not like that, first of all, it was disgusting to expect women to dress in ‘slutty’ costumes, and second, it was appalling that the expectation was pressured on them so young. So the magic of Halloween she’d loved as a kid shattered, she didn’t even dress up for the holiday anymore unless it was for a costume party where she knew it would be appreciated. That Halloween, she was working in the ED. Even worse, it was the night shift. That meant the usual hell of calling time of death and cranky nurses, while also dealing with drunk morons who use Halloween as an excuse to fuck shit up.

Most of the usual ED staff wasn’t scheduled that night, they were here during the day which had been bad enough, but Sarah, Ethan, Connor, and Ava were all working doubles. Ethan was still avoiding April after their breakup and Noah was helping move her stuff out of their apartment that night before heading to Molly’s, Connor had requested it for some unknown reason, and Ava stayed because she and her girlfriend had gotten into a bad fight but she was using a patient’s touch-and-go condition as an excuse. Sarah downed her sixth coffee before stepping back out into the pits of hell. Connor wasn’t in the ED, probably went back up to the cardiology wing to help with Ava’s patient. Their relationship had improved drastically when Ava figured out she’s gay. It wasn’t something that was accepted in South Africa so she repressed it, even in Chicago, until she met Emily Foster. Ethan was sitting behind a computer with nurses bustling behind him, glaring at his computer screen. Sarah suspected it had less to do with whatever he was reading and more to do with whatever Doris was gossiping about right behind him.

Doris was an excellent nurse. Intelligent, experienced, and sympathetic when necessary. Unfortunately her sympathy did not extend to the other staff at MED whenever they were going through something gossip-worthy, read: deeply personal and often heartbreaking. Sarah had a basic amount of respect for her, but it didn’t expand past more than that since she heard her call Natalie the ‘ice princess’. The woman lost her husband and then found out she was pregnant a month later, had to deal with her mother-in-law constantly, all while continuing her fellowship, and Doris couldn’t say anything nice about her? And while she was right behind her. Another flaw of Doris’, she rarely kept stock of where anyone was in the ED at any given time so she usually ended up supplying MED’s gossip mill right in front of whoever it was about. It was distasteful, really.

“Dr. Reese, incoming, you’re going to treatment three.”

“What do we have?” Sarah’s eyes began wandering them patient’s body, taking mental notes, as she listened to the debrief from Sylvie Brett and Gianna Mackey. “Male, 24, laceration on the forehead, we stopped the bleeding, but he lost consciousness once at the scene and three times on th way over. He was in a bar fight.”

“Okay, transfer on my count, 1, 2, 3. Good, thanks guys, be careful tonight.”

“You too, Reese.” And with that, the two paramedics left leaving her with a drunk patient and a couple of nurses. Sarah went through her usual checklist of examinations based on the physical exam, questions answered by the patient, and information from the paramedics. “Can you tell me your name?”

“My name’s Brad, am I terr yous anytingting yous wans tas know.”

“Well Brad, my name is Dr. Reese, does anything hurt?”

“Non, non, nona, yous a nurse, ot a-”

“I assure you Brad, I am a doctor, now can you please tell me if you’re feeling any pain and where?”

“Nursh, yous nursh. Where you fish nets? Ans I wants yous boobies.”

“Okay, let’s get him to CT and run a tox screen, his bandage is good for now and the wound is clear, I’ll stitch him up after we run the tests.”

“SOW ME YOUS BOOBIES!”

“... Are there any male nurses available?”

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

The rest of Reese’s night went like that, drunken fools, high morons, and an absolutely swamped ED. Brad shockingly did not have a concussion, and was refusing to let Sarah stitch him up and send him out. She would have just let him sign out AMA, but his tox screen came back with copious amounts of alcohol and ecstasy in his system, so she couldn’t under good conscience let him sign out and leave without the proper treatment in his state. So he was moaning and groaning about... Everything and kept demanding a ‘real’ doctor. “Hey Sarah.” She turned to face him, her shoulder relaxing as she signed in relief at the sound of his voice. A beaming smile graced his features that immediately made Sarah’s day and she really wished that they could just stay like that for the rest of shift. Or eternity, either would do.

“Hi Connor, how are things up in cardiology?”

“Good, good, they don’t really need me up there so I came back down here. Were you scheduled for just the ED tonight or neuro aswell?”

“Just the ED for tonight, I’ve been putting in more hours up there recently so Ms. Goodwin suggested a couple of doubles to catch up.”

“Ah, hey have you seen the movie ‘Knives Out’ yet?” Connor had tensed slightly, and was giving an odd amount of attention to an old coffee mug sitting on the nurse’s station, and a nervous look drained onto his face as he glanced between Sarah and literally anything else. Honestly it bummed Srah out a little, working with Connor was the only silver lining she had while working the graveyard shift, and she’d be lying if she said that her heart didn’t hurt a little everytime Connor looked less than ecstatic. She’d also be lying if she said she wasn’t head over heels in love with him.

“No, I just haven’t had the time! I have to keep running out of the room anytime my housemates talk about the movie so I don’t get any spoilers.”

“I still haven’t seen it either, maybe we could make a day of it, grab some dinner at that Thai place you like and then head over to that theatre by Navy Pier to watch it?”

“You know what Connor, that sounds like a great idea.” And just like that, Connor perked up, his smile was back and so was Sarah’s.

“Really? I mean-”

“Nursh! NURSH! NURSH REESH!” Connor cocked his eyebrow in annoyance un the direction of Brad’s room. Both at the interruption and at the language the man was using.“I keep telling him I’m not a nurse but he just won’t listen to me. And he’s in detox right now so we can’t discharge him yet.”

“Do you want some back up?”

“No, I’m good Connor, but thanks.” So Connor stayed in place as she drifted over to treatment three, his lips pursed together in worry. “Reese’ll be fine, man, she can take care of herself. And did I overhear incorrectly, or did you FINALLY ask Sarah Reese, third year ED and neuro resident, out on a date?”

“... Shut up, Choi.” All the other man could do was let out a boisterous laugh, while Connor didn’t really appreciate that all the attention was on them now, or that he was being mocked for finally addressing his feelings, Connor had to admit, he hadn’t seen Choi laugh in a while, let alone so sincerely. So he cracked an embarrassed smile and chuckled along with him. “I’m happy that I won’t have to see you looking after like a lost puppy, but in all seriousness, Reese is like a little sister to me. I you hurt her I’ll string you up by your toes and make you eat your own kidney.” Choi’s eyes had gone completely devoid of amusement, they were hollow and dead serious, at that moment Choi looked how he did whenever he had to think about his time overseas. A pang of fear fluttered through his chest. “I’ll- ahm- I’ll keep that in mind.” Connor forced himself to break eye contact and Choi nodded definitively. The tension still hadn’t dissipated by the time Sarah got back. “You know, I used to love Halloween. I used to handmake all of y costumes. Now? Hate. It. Women are expected to dress in ‘slutty’ costumes, and everytime I work the day of, before, or after Halloween I get idiots who will ask why I’m not in my ‘proper uniform’, and some more idiots who are far to handsy. I just can’t wait for this shift to be over.”

“I take it Brad is being a little too friendly, then?”

“Yeah, I just have to keep thinking ‘only one more hour, only one more hour’.”

“And you used to make your own costumes? They must have been great!”

“They were! When I was twelve I was Medusa, fourteen I was one of the Beauxbatons from ‘Harry Potter’, Poison Ivy when I was sixteen, I had a lot of awesom costumes over the years but those were my top three. Oh! I saved pictures to my phone, hold on.”

“Well why don’t you still dress up? You clearly love it, and those costumes are amazing.”

“Other people have certain expectations for Halloween, as I mentioned before, and I started to get a lot of negative attention for it. So unless I’m going to a Halloween party that hasn’t been thrown by horny teenagers masquarading as adults, I just don’t dress up anymore.”

“I’m sorry Sarah. It’s a bit too late for this year, I think you’ve inspired me to throw a Halloween party next year.”

“Connor, you don’t have to do that just for me.”

“I know, which is why I’ll also be doing it for me. I used to like Halloween too, but like you said, it just gets so... Pervy when you grow up. I think it’d be really nice to have a Halloween where I can get excited about costumes again, it used to be my favourite part, too.”

“I’ll right, well I’ll keep my calendar open. For that one day, three hundred and sixty-four days from now.”

“That’s great. I loo forward to it.”

“And as for our ‘Knives Out’ date, would you be free for it tonight?”

“Uh...” Connor was taken aback, he had asked her out, yes, but he wasn’t sure if it actually came across as a date. And he was too nervous to ask himself because he really liked Sarah, she had become one of his best friends and she truly had carbed out her own spot in Connor’s heart, something he welcomed. “Unless... You didn’t aske me out and I just and I just made everything super awkward...” Connor could see Sarah start to internally chastise herself, so he gently grabbed her elbow before she could walk away, hope blooming inside of him. “I did ask you out on a date, and tonight sounds perfect.”

“Really?” Sarah smiled up at him and Connor couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he did to be lucky enough to have her in his life. “Yeah, really.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later tonight, Connor.”

“Yeah, you will.” And twenty minutes later, after both of their shifts had ended and they were free to go, they left smiling, excited for the future and not despising a mutually memorable holiday as much as they did going in.

#One Chicago #chicago med #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x sarah reese #Sarah Reese #sarah reese x connor rhodes #rheese #ethan choi

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mvsesrp · 4 years ago

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kaleigh , benny , lucas

K: What’s their Youtube suggestions look like?

mostly sewing hacks or instructional videos, make up and hair tutorials and the occasional music video for some county-pop singer she likes

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

she doesn’t really have exes? like, ex-hook ups, yes. but not really an ex-boyfriend. and her hook up list can get kind of long, lmao. she’s just always so ready to love someone and as soon as she talks about dating, the guys she’s been intimate with are like, “whoa, i’m not really looking for a relationship??” so yea. but also, yes, she keeps in touch with the guys she’s hooked up with/almost dated.

L: How often do they post on their social media accounts?

probably way too much. she’s got most of the social medias out there and posts at least once a week, probably more. unless she’s in a mood, than she’s m.i.a. it’s probably a good tip off to her friends to check on her. like “she hasn’t posted anything in the last four days. should we go make sure she’s ok?!”

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?

lmao, no. she’s the saddest she’s ever been. thanks for asking.

I: In general, are they organized or messy?

she’s actually very organized and to an annoying level. she lowkey gets annoyed when her friends moves her stuff around. she’s also definitely the person that if you put the pen in the wrong cup holder, she’ll very dramatically move it to the right cup holder and make sure you are watching her as she does as a way of silently being like YOU SEE WHAT I’M DOING?! REMEMBER THIS FOR THE NEXT TIME!!!

G: What was their first job?

she’s really only ever had the one job, a seamstress at a local clothing boutique. but her grandma did pay her one summer to water the flowers a few times and she definitely claimed that to have been her first job at one point

H: Who texts/calls them the most?

probably a tie between easton and andrew. i would say usually easton because i don’t imagine they usually went a day without some kind of communication between the two of them. but andrew also talks to her a lot so he’s definitely up there. and now with some of the messiness with her and easton, they don’t talk as much as they used to. so andrew is sliding into first place.

B: Who is the last person they shared a bed with?

in like the friendliest way, maya? i can just see them hanging out and watching a movie or something in his room and both passing out.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?

yea, i think so? he’s a pretty happy guy in general though?

N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents? N: Are they clumsy and/or prone to accidents?

he’s not clumsy by nature. he’s actually usually pretty good at balance or whatever? but he does like to skateboard a lot and smoke weed. usually it’s not a problem but sometimes he gets a combination of really high and really drunk and tries to show off? it’s rare but it happens and he ends up like “ayyyy, watch me do this fuckin’ ollie” or something dumb like that and then ends up tripping over himself? it’s rare though!

Y: What movie could they watch over and over again?

oh goodness, brave little toaster? and shaun of the dead?

Thank you for only using his nickname because BENJAMIN is too much!

L: How often do they post on their social media accounts?

not all that often. maybe every few weeks? unless there is a lot going on? he doesn’t use social media all that much. but he has instagram and will post pictures here and there.

U: Would they rather be single or in a relationship?

oh, good question. he never really cared about this kind of stuff? he wasn’t the type of guy that went on dates growing up. any time he had a crush on a girl, it was very much one sided. and that was fine. but then he fell in love with gwen and all he wanted was to be her husband. so it’s a toss up?

C: If they had to pick one sport to play/watch which would it be?

baseball. people teased him a lot about being a total nerd and stuff growing up but like he was on the baseball team?! he had a letterman jacket. he was just also good at math! the duality of man.

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

he’s only had like two girlfriends ever, maybe? one might barely even count? like i said, he didn’t really date growing up. and he didn’t really keep in touch? mostly because he left town for college and they moved on too and all that. but his most recent ex is gwen hwang and yea, they keep in touch. how could he not when she breaks into his house?! and ok, she technically has her own key but still!

S: How do they tell someone they’re sorry?

in a lot of different ways. i think he says sorry in the way he thinks the person he’s apologizing to would like it best. a lot of time it’s bringing the person food and drinks and just straight up saying he’s sorry and accepting the wrongs he’s done.

SPELL A MUSE’S NAME IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL TELL YOU…

#badlandswrites #m;kaleighhenderson #m;benjaminprice #m;lucasdunn #answered

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a-very-fond-farewell · 5 years ago

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The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 15/? Kimi no Na Wa AU: “Seamless” [ok I changed stuff bc I’m well on my way to thirty and teenage love is fun and fresh until you realize you could technically be a parent yourself and then it’s all downhill from there. so the characters are adults, sorry about that] [title comes from (what I understand to be) a way of saying that goes “a goddess’s robe is seamless” which (supposedly) should mean a great plan coming together –which reminded me of fate and time and the whole underlying plot of the movie– or something perfect/the product of perfect craftsmanship. I was looking for info about weaving procedures and I stumbled across this:

From Wikipedia, under “Loom” “In Tang Dynasty, China, the goddess weaver floated down on a shaft of moonlight with her two attendants. She showed the upright court official Guo Han in his garden that a goddess's robe is seamless, for it is woven without the use of needle and thread, entirely on the loom. The phrase "a goddess's robe is seamless" passed into an idiom to express perfect workmanship. This idiom is also used to mean a perfect, comprehensive plan.”

There’s also reference to the legend of Vega and Altair, which is what the Japanese festival tanabata is based on. And my creative juices gave me a sugar high so...yeah] * No matter how isolated Gusu is known to be, preparations for the upcoming July festival attract people from all over the country. Time has relentlessly transformed what used to be a secluded and safe place for people to meditate in into a tourist location known for its cold springs and breathtaking sceneries. Yet, Lan Zhan wonders what cities and stories could possibly hide behind those mountains he has known for all his life.

Managing the temple of the goddess along with his older brother and uncle should bring him joy, but deep down he knows he’s still living beside them more out of obligation than anything else. Lan Huan himself feels trapped behind the usual mask of politeness and fake smiles, his heart still bleeding for the loss of his two precious friends in the span of five years. Their uncle Lan QiRen well may have taken them in when they were mere children, stepping in to take care of them in place of their mourning father after losing his wife... but Lan Zhan knows his brother doesn’t want to disappoint their elder in any way.

Falling in love not once, but two times in a lifetime should not be frowned upon... but Lan QiRen couldn’t stomach the idea of one of his nephews falling for a man the first time, let alone the second. Just having said goodbye to Nie MingJue when they were mere teenagers after their uncle had prohibited him from meeting with his nephew, Lan Huan thought he could have another chance at happiness with Meng Yao in his twenties... just for the other man to fall ill and move country to look after himself. Ever since, Lan Huan has stopped believing in ever being able to find happiness for himself and decided to accept his fate and manage the temple like their uncle did for most of his life.

The idea of celibacy doesn’t sit well with Lan Zhan, not for himself and certainly not for his heartbroken brother, but life outside Gusu seems so far away and unapproachable. Without them the ancient tradition of working the loom to create seamless robes would perish and most of the profits from the temple would fall dry if not for their hard work. Their mother used to be a seamstress herself, teaching them how to weave without breaking the delicate thread, setting the rhythm of their hearts with her feet moving on the pedals as they watched her work her magic day after day. Their robes are still valued for their absolute perfection, even if nowadays they’re bound to be bought not by emperors or kings, but by celebrities and politicians who just want to boast their ego in front of cameras and flashing lights. The set Lan Zhan himself has been working on will take another three months to finish and on top of that he uses his spare time to make the ribbons they sell at the local gift shop while his brother prepares the traditional talismans by hand, his calligraphy as delicate as the products of their weaving.

As the nights of the local festival approach and they practice the rituals in full traditional gear more to appease the tourists than anything else, Lan Zhan feels getting more and more tired the longer he wears the long wig and the heavy robes himself, wishing his heart could stop being so ungrateful for the life he was entrusted with. But the news of a comet quickly approaching them brings the promise of change as Lan Zhan looks up at the sky and wishes he was born in a different body. Just for once. Just to live at least once in that existence of his.

[more under the cut]

Wei Ying is in university (engineering major), living with his brother Jiang Cheng (marine biology major) in their sister’s tiny ass apartment. They keep her company while she waits for baby Jin Ling to be born, ZiXuan working day and night in the hospital fresh out of med school to get their family a bigger house. Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng moved in from the tiny Yunmeng and secretly hate the big city life, but their studies come first and they didn’t want to leave YanLi alone while pregnant. Their parents are still working in the countryside and couldn’t properly care for her, living so far away in Lanling.

Wei Ying works part time in a bar and the usual routine is so rooted in his system that he doesn’t even care anymore. Study, eat, work, sleep. Rinse and repeat. He would like to think his brother has it easier than him, but he’s even more elusive than him, studying in the library until his night shift in an art gallery as a guard. The poor guy doesn’t even sleep, let alone have a social life. Spring has just begun and YanLi still has a trimester to go, her spirits low even if she loves her child very much already. Keeping her company and helping her leading a normal life is their priority as her brothers, but sometimes Wei Ying wishes things were easier.

He doesn’t really want to become an engineer, or, at least... he used to want that. But he’s more interested in actually making stuff instead of taking a hundred calculus classes per semester. He wishes he could enjoy his studies more and maybe get a girlfriend or boyfriend to pass the time, not that he believes in romance or anything. Commitment sounds scary.

One day he wakes up and... nah, he’s still dreaming. The ceiling is wrong, he doesn’t live in an old traditional cottage with a view on... wtf is that a mountain? Fuck that he doesn’t have time to waste, he has a test today. Studied hard enough last night he fell asleep on the desk... better start getting ready.

So he goes to the bathroom and showers, too tired to even open his eyes. But the shampoo smells all wrong, what even is sandalwood? And he doesn’t like mint toothpaste. And why are his clothes a size bigger? He doesn’t even own a button down, what in the...?

Who the fuck is that in the mirror??!?

On the other hand, Lan Zhan wakes up on a desk, drool on the books, late for a test an angry stranger reminds him he has to take in half an hour at best. He is presented with a soup his body mechanically ingests out of habit as he tries to politely nod to whatever the kind woman in front of him is saying. (“You look sick, are you really okay?” / “A-Jie stop babying him” / “But I’ve never seen him so... quiet?” / “He’s probably pretending so that he can skip his test.”) But if he really has given his word for such a commitment... maybe he should just go.

Still, he doesn’t remember going to any university. That may be a problem.

His body feels different, but he never paid attention to his reflection. They don’t even own mirrors back at home anyway. He doesn’t remember his hair reaching well over his ears and under his jaw. Should he consider asking his brother to cut it for him? It feels greasy, should he fix it or?

As he tucks a strand behind his ear he realizes something is terribly wrong. From the tip of his nose to the width of his shoulders, from the clothes he put on without even thinking. The window of the shop under the apartment he’s just left shows him a stranger that he cannot recognizes for the life of his.

And now some funny stuff:

(If you are not familiar with the movie, go watch it. But if you are you should be fine with the following list so... enjoy)

Jiang Cheng loves dogs, but Wei Ying is allergic and they cannot get a puppy... so he de-stresses at a local dog café whenever he can. Wen Qing works there even if she’s a cat person and comments on how he’s secretly planning to murder her so he can get her job. They’re good friends and dated for a while before Wen Qing understood her lesbianism was stronger and Jiang Cheng’s chaotic bisexuality was leaning more on the boy section of the partner store anyway. They bitch about everything and everyone anyway.

Lan Zhan (in Wei Ying’s body) manages to arrive in university and take the test, getting perfect scores even if Wei Ying’s never got such a high mark. For the rest of the day he roams Lanling in awe, believing it’s just a very nice dream. He also discovers the existence of pet bunnies in a pet store and his life changes.

Wei Ying (in Lan Zhan’s body) is a mess. Lan Huan immediately notices something is wrong, but he hasn’t really smiled in several months and whatever is happening to WangJi is extremely entertaining to him. He sees him skipping the morning prayers right in front of Lan QiRen’s salad (so to speak) and he doesn’t seem to remember the existence of their uncle’s punishing bamboo stick.

He also clearly never used a loom in his life, but luckily Lan QiRen is too busy to notice as he welcomes tourists in the temple and explains them the history behind it. Lan Huan takes “Lan Zhan” out for a stroll and they sit down as Lan QiRen’s mellow voice explains the legend of the weaver goddess and the importance of the artisanal work they still keep practicing to this day. Transfixed, “Lan Zhan” smiles big at his brother and Lan Huan knows for sure this is not his WangJi at all.

Wen Qing finds “Wei Ying” petting bunnies in the shop where her current girlfriend MianMian works and notices how... awfully quiet he is. She thinks he bombed the math test and might be sad, but he doesn’t seem to recognize her when she waves her hand at him. She then reminds him he should be getting ready for work and he blanches at the idea. Eventually asking her “where he’s supposed to depart for” and honest to the gods Wen Qing ends up convincing herself he’s high as fuck.

Imagine “Lan Zhan” being reprimanded by Lan QiRen for -gods forbid- laughing too loud? Asking for a beer at the local tea house? Saying out loud that he craves meat when he’s vegetarian? That’s just a dream for poor Wei Ying, whatever! He’s having a great time and Lan Huan is this close to lose it when they practice the traditional rites together and “Lan Zhan” doesn’t know how to put the long wig on anymore.

Now imagine “Wei Ying” not knowing how to use a shaker at work, or how to make a martini, or the fact that he and a boy named Wen Ning are actually coworkers and not strangers. He goes back home at 3am with the feeling he has forgotten something important, but when he finally (finally) finds his apartment he falls asleep on the doorway. Too drained by the city life to even change out of his uniform.

Next day there’s no switch: Wei Ying wakes up in his body by the doorway, with Jiang Cheng coming back from his night shift and panicking hard; Lan Zhan wakes up in his bed but he’s somewhat grounded at 20 for... drinking beer?

Technical stuff now!

Lan Zhan lives in 2010 and he is 20, Wei Ying lives in 2015 and he is 20.

It’s LXC who suggest his brother to keep a diary for his dreams if they get too crazy (later on it will be revealed something shocking about LXC, but for now the journaling is just a “suggestion”)

WWX and LWJ switch every other night or so, and things change when WWX wakes up in LWJ’s body and finds the diary.

They keep in touch with diaries [bc I don’t think LWJ would have a phone like...ever, but I digress]

WWX notices the two Jades of Gusu are kept outside of their peers’ circles because other people think their family is weird: they still use courtesy names; they don’t eat meat; most of their relatives are believed to have died in celibacy without actually being monks themselves; they don’t drink alcohol and are deemed unsociable... and so on.

But it’s when he overhears people bashing LXC for “his past with several boys” and for “running away from society like his father” that WWX (in LWJ’s body) actually loses it and starts a fistfight right then and there until those losers stop muttering behind their backs.

In the meantime, ZiXuan comes back home to surprise YanLi... and LWJ is there (in WWX’s body) and the younger man almost doesn’t let him enter bc he doesn’t know who this strange man is and what does he want from Jiang Cheng’s sister?

LWJ also follows JC to his night shift one day bc he’s never seen an art gallery (but apparently WWX often trails behind his younger step brother anyway, so JC doesn’t notice anything weird... aside from how quiet the other is)

JC then takes that opportunity to ask his brother (while LWJ inhabits said body) if... if he’s depressed and needs help [“Wen Qing saw you petting bunnies too many times for you to be ‘just fine’. You can talk to me.” / “it’s fine.” / “fuck that you’re not fine. Stop lying to me.” / “it’s just a transitional time for me, it will pass” / “who taught you such big words, what the fuck”] and then JC begrudgingly tells his brother than he loves him and doesn’t want him to be sad.

The next day WWX is back in his body and finds written down: “your brother tells me he loves you and that you should take better care of yourself” and WWX clowns the fuck out of JC the following day and JC is like “noPe. You’re fucking fine. Whatever, your fucking with me. You’re always fucking with me. Stupid of me to fucking care, gods forbid.”

LWJ starts developing feeling when he learns WWX defended Lan Huan + LWJ goes every night he can to the art gallery when he doesn’t have to work at the bar and learns there’s an entire section of the gallery dedicated to Gusu + but he doesn’t want to think about home for now, avoiding the exhibit, and so he learns more about JC and starts to think he would have lots of things to talk about with LXC.

Lan QiRen takes his nephews to their annual purification trip to Burial Mounds, to a cave hidden on the mountain where it is said the goddess met with her lover for the first time in the past. They leave their offerings and change the ropes securing the entrance of the cave with sturdier ones, which they have made themselves prior that year. It is said that whoever enters the cave will be granted a wish, so it’s responsibly of the Lan family to keep everyone else out until the lover of the goddess returns to be granted the wish to reunite with her. It’s a privilege the goddess has left for him to enjoy and no mortal should dare take that from him. Only those who wear the sacred headband of the Lan family can enter without being cast out of the cave and be forced to leave by the spirits.

WWX falls in love with LWJ a bit everyday: the little gifts and notes he finds on his desk for WWX to open and read every morning; the beautiful drawings LWJ makes of the mountains; the care he put in the white robes that should adorn a deity and not common human beings.

crushed with longing for WWX, LWJ wishes to meet with him one day (the real him) and so he runs away from Gusu on train and reaches Lanling and searches for him at the university. But he’s not there. He looks everywhere for him, but doesn’t find him. Until he stumbles into YanLi and it’s almost like there’s a wall between them: shocked, LWJ recognizes YanLi even if he knows she has never actually met him in real life; but the worst thing is that... she’s not pregnant. She’s not even at home as she usually is, but going to university herself and it doesn’t even seem like she’s even in a relationship with ZiXuan yet: the two of them not even sparing a glance to one another in the university corridors.

LWJ finds his words at long last, asking YanLi if her brother Wei Ying is well. She beams at him at first, elated to see her brother actually has friends outside of the family... “but you look around my age, right? What business do you have being friends with a fifteen year old boy anyway?”

Shocked, the last thing LWJ can do before leaving her alone is to give her a ribbon he made himself, the one that represents his heart. “I just know him by chance, he... he helped my brother once. I was wondering how to repay his kindness so I made this for him. Can you give it to him?”

That evening he goes back to Gusu and he prepares for the festival knowing the comet is coming. The last thing he wishes is to forget about Wei Ying, because -having realized there’s a discrepancy in timelines and that he has interacted with someone from the future for months now- he cannot possibly justify having developed feelings for a minor.

There are no more switches and WWX is left wondering what happened.

Now the sad part:

Under the weather for what happened, WWX follows JC around a lot and he even adopts a couple of bunnies to cope. YanLi is closer and closer to the due date and gets restless, forcing her brothers to clean up the entire apartment with her until everything sparkles for the baby’s arrival. They dig out an old box with all of YanLi’s stuff from university and LWJ’s ribbon appears out of nowhere. WWX immediately recognizes it for what it is.

[“I’m sorry A-Ying, I was supposed to give you this back then, but I forgot.” / “What are you taking about... why do you have a Gusu’s ribbon with you?” / “Ah, was your acquaintance from up there? He said you helped his brother once, or something like that... and he wanted to thank you. I’m really sorry.” / “How long ago was that A-Jie?” / “Five years or so? I think?”]

To this JC startles, saying that’s awfully weird, considering what happened to Gusu exactly five years prior. To which WWX is like ?pardon? and then JC takes them to the art gallery to the traditional art section, where the exhibit on Gusu is: there, WWX finally remembers how a relatively small rock has detached itself from the comet and destroyed Gusu in 2010 on the final day of the July festival.

On a display there, the siblings find one of the few things spared by the fire: an unfinished set of robes weaved with the precious heavenly silk, which was said to be made from the stars themselves.

Wei Ying cries all of his tears, neither JC or YanLi can console him and the only thing they come up with is that -maybe- their brother felt bad for forgetting to cherish a friendship... but they don’t remember if he had reacted so badly five years ago when the news of the fire at Gusu broke.

In the middle of the night, with the ribbon secured around his wrist, Wei Ying runs away and takes a train to Gusu. There are no more direct lines and he has to hike all the way up there... just to see a lake where the town was supposed to be. The crater so big it swallowed the ground where half of the city used to be.

Desperate, he wanders the mountains without knowing where to go, until his feet take him to the secluded path Uncle QiRen took him once. He follows it, noticing the same ribbons knotted around the trees he saw the first time he walked there. He follows the path and reaches the cave.

Inside, nothing happens. The talismans are still there, but -as he imagined (*eyeroll emoji*)- there’s no actual magic preventing him from entering. So he jumps over the white ropes made of ribbons and silk and gets inside the cave of Burial Mounds. He takes shelter there from the storm outside and thinks of Lan Zhan, of how much he misses him. And then he cries thinking about him and his brother and their uncle and the entire Gusu: because none of them deserved to die. And he wishes he can rewind time and save them all.

He faints in the cave and his wish is granted.

Now for the good part!

He wakes up in LWJ’s body (in 2010), the day after the boy’s impromptu trip to Lanling, the last day of the July festival. He gets to work as soon as he goes downstairs, determination painting his (well, LWJ’s) features to the point Lan Huan notices... and he has to say something.

While they ate breakfast, out of Lan QiRen’s sight, Lan Huan sits his “brother” down and tells him something unexpected: that he used to switch bodies with not one but with two people at the same time, NMJ and JGY.

That he managed to finally meet NMJ in their teens when the older boy came to Gusu for a school trip... but he didn’t want to leave bc he had finally found LXC and didn’t want to part ways. Lan QiRen put end to the older boy’s silly antics and the two friends agreed to meet in secret, before Lan Huan put a end to the relationship for fear of displeasing his uncle. The three friends kept switching bodies until one day they stopped.

Then Meng Yao came to find him and told him he had discovered the truth of what happened: that NMJ had a car accident and lost most of his memories of their years as friends and that now was living somewhere else with the woman he fell in love with. Meng Yao himself tried to live in Gusu for a few years afterwards, regardless of his poor health, eventually deciding to not make Lan Huan worry and disappeared without a word to take care of himself (or to die far away enough so that Lan Huan didn’t have to see him at his worst).

Lan Huan said that it took him years to remember their names and that he was able to finally utter them in front of his brother only the previous year, at the last July festival. He also reveals WWX that trying to remember something so simple caused him great pain, to the point he believed he could let himself die that way, starving himself from human connection.

Impressed and sorrowful, WWX cries for him and wishes things were different for Lan Huan, who’s only 23 and yet had suffered more than anyone else. But Lan Huan is content with what he has, even if he feels guilty for being the reason Meng Yao neglected his health. Yet he’s happy for NMJ and doesn’t regret befriending them at all.

With his help, WWX alerts people in Gusu: LXC finally standing up for himself against their uncle in order to gain his respect and convince him of the emergency at hand.

On the other hand, LWJ wakes up in the cave in WWX’s body (in 2015) and doesn’t know why he’s there. Yet he knows the way out and travels back following the ribbons... but when he reaches Gusu he sees there’s only a crater filled with water and doesn’t know what to do. He knows of the time discrepancy between the two realities, but he doesn’t know what to think.

WWX realizes LWJ must be in his body somewhere on the Burial Mounds, from the top of which Gusu can be seen, but he doesn’t know if he would find his own body in the cave, since the year now is 2010 and WWX reached the cave by himself only in 2015. Yet something tells him to go and so he leaves for the mountain.

On top of the Burial Mounds, he doesn’t find anyone.

But Lan Zhan is there, on the other side of the veil between present and future.

And as the light of the sun fades away and dusk approaches, Wei Ying enters his body and Lan Zhan gets back inside his own. They meet for the first time and Wei Ying doesn’t know what to say, having never seen Lan Zhan’s body from outside and feeling suddenly very self conscious and uninteresting.

To which Lan Zhan responds with “are you legal?” / “what the fuck Lan Zhan.” / “I gave you my ribbon. did you receive it?” / “yes, my... my sister gave it to me like, yesterday.” / “yesterday as in... what year?” / “2015”

And then Lan Zhan kisses the hell out of him because nothing screams romanticism to him like a relationship between two contenting adults and Wei Ying gets blissed out of his pants for that single kiss on the spot. In between kisses Wei Ying tries to convince Lan Zhan to stop, that there’s something they should remember... or at least something they should not forget.

But Lan Zhan does not relent, hugging and holding Wei Ying, finally... finally keeping him close and never letting him go.

Until Wei Ying disappears and the only thing left of him is the white ribbon Lan Zhan has given him.

They forgot to write their names, so that they would not forget them like LXC has done for years.

And finally.....!

years have passed, it’s the beginning of 2020 [sans quarantine, thank you] and Wei Ying has graduated and is looking for a job. He doesn’t remember Lan Zhan.

Jiang Cheng has found a job close to the sea at the local aquarium and the only thing he talks about on the phone is “how useless his new intern is. a nobody late bloomer who discovered the mountain wasn’t for him and decided to study in the opposite direction, go figure. Gusu must have bored him alright. but the other day he reminded me mountains are actually ancient reefs and now I think I’m in love.” So all is well.

(Gusu did not fall and everyone was evacuated in time. Lan Zhan had descended the mountain and made sure his brother got his backup in convincing their uncle of the emergency. He doesn’t remember either, but he always keeps his ribbon on his wrist, feeling like he’s waiting for someone to get it back.)

On a snowy night they cross paths on a pedestrian bridge, but don’t recognize each other... until Wei Ying’s scent of lotus reaches Lan Zhan. But the other has already disappeared behind a corner of the ever busy Lanling and they miss each other once again.

The following day, when Wei Ying has just dropped Jin Ling at his kindergarten and is about to cross a road, he sees a familiar face on the other side of the street. Both of them are talking to the phone: Wei Ying to Jiang Cheng, who’s calling him from a toilet, panicking about his first date with the intern; and Lan Zhan with his brother Lan XiChen, who’s waiting for his date to come back from the bathroom in the restaurant they chose to meet at.

As they walk towards each other they sense something, but don’t stop. Until they have now reached their respective sides of the road and realize what just happened. They turn around, but there are too many cars in between them.

They look for a way to meet and run towards a pedestrian bridge right above the road. They make the steps two at a time until they’re out of breath on top and stare at each other after so long. Wei Ying has lived for five years feeling like half of him was missing, but Lan Zhan had spent twice as long waiting for something to change in his life.

(“I’m still legal, you know?” / “That’s the first thing you decide to tell me after ten years? Really?” / “you thought it was romantic last time” / “what’s that supposed to mean?” / “that you should kiss me right the fuck now, you big oaf.”)

They meet in the middle of the bridge and kiss.

Then, Lan Zhan tilts his head and ask “what was you name again?”, clearly amused, and waits until Wei Ying’s laughter resonates all around.

The fucking end.

Now I need a break.

#mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #cql #the forbidden crack! untamed prompts #mdzs/au: manga/anime inspired #mdzs/au: kimi no na wa

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jeff-stillcoolasazombie · 5 years ago

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The Waiter and the Hotel Heiress- Chapter 2

a Kristanna and Eloise at Christmastime crossover event!

Length: 2741 words

Rating: K+

Also read on AO3

A/N: I am clearly booboo the fool if I thought I could start and finish writing an entire Christmas au less than a week before Christmas. I’m really busy the next few days, but I have nothing else in my head except for this story right now, and I have it all mapped out. I will have the whole thing done and posted by New Year’s at the very latest.

Chapter 2: Red Roses

After gently interrogating the housekeepers the night before, Eloise had determined that Kristoff and Anna belonged together. Yes, Anna was engaged to Hans, but Eloise still sensed there was something off about him. And anyway, what Kristoff and Anna had was true love, and what was more perfect and romantic than literal, actual true love?

Still, if she was going to convince them of that, Eloise would need to find legitimate reasons (as if true love needed reason for anything) for the two of them to connect.

But first, she needed to be absolutely sure that Anna still cared for Kristoff. Although Eloise was pretty certain that she did.

Naturally, with the nuptials mere days away, Eloise knew to find Anna in the parlor that morning for a dress fitting. “Hi Anna,” she said, strolling right up to the podium Anna was standing on. “Gosh, fancy running into you here.”

Anna gave the child a polite smile. “Hello, Eloise. What do you think of my dress?” She was wearing an ivory colored satin gown, the flared mermaid hem currently being altered with pins by a parlor seamstress.

Eloise thought Anna looked divine, but only gave a cursory glance. “Oh fine, I guess. Only I’ve been thinking, and aren’t you afraid that you might be rushing into things a little?” She began wandering around the small section of the room, pretending to be more interested in other bridal things as she spoke.

A confused look fell across Anna’s face. “You mean the wedding?” she clarified. “A couple of days ago you thought it was the most romantic thing you’d ever heard.”

“Well, it is,” Eloise said, trying not to back-peddle. A Christmas wedding was the most romantic thing Eloise had ever heard of, but forget whatever she said or thought. Right now she needed to focus on the task at hand, which was to test the waters and see how deep Anna’s feelings for Kristoff still lingered. Eloise continued, “I mean, when you’re absolutely sure it’s the right thing, because you really know the guy. Like really, really, really know him.” She paused in front of a floor length mirror to look back at Anna’s reflection. “Like you know Kristoff, for instance,” she said nonchalantly.

“You’re quite fond of him, aren’t you?” Anna said, laughing.

“Of course. He’s my best friend,” Eloise answered happily. And she listed off all the reasons Kristoff was so great. “He’s funny and charming and he lets me win every sword fight.” That last one might have been a bit biased toward six-year-olds, so Eloise added, “And no matter how tired he is, he’ll always play me a song on the piano.”

Anna beamed. “Did he teach you the little dances that go with them?” she asked, her face lighting up at the memory of playing music with Kristoff.

Then right there, Anna hopped off the dress podium (to the seamstress’s dismay) and started tap dancing with Eloise, humming a silly tune before ending in a little surprise twirl. The two girls giggled.

“Oh, he could make me laugh so hard with that,” Anna said full of glee. She lowered herself down a bit to meet the six-year-old’s eye. “Sometimes, I’d sneak down after the parties were over and we’d put on these little shows together, just the two of us. And I remember this one time we—“

Anna stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse in the mirror at herself in a beautiful bridal gown. She was supposed to be preparing to marry Hans, not reminiscing over ancient memories about Kristoff. Her face fell back into a neutral expression at the thought.

“Well. It doesn’t really matter now,” Anna said with a sad smile. She rose back up to the podium. “We’ve both moved on.”

Eloise frowned, for only a split second, before changing the topic. “Yeah. Good ol’ Kristoff,” the girl said. “Only I wish I could figure out who his girlfriend is.”

Anna’s head perked up. “His girlfriend?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Eloise started, playing with some veils to seem distracted from the leading comments. “But this morning I was in the kitchen, and I heard him ordering flowers over the phone. I mean, what else could I think? You don’t just send red roses to just anyone.” She glanced at Anna’s reflection in the mirror again, searching for any hint in the woman’s face.

“Red roses?” Anna herself had received an arrangement of beautiful red roses just that morning. It seemed too coincidental that Kristoff would’ve ordered red roses for some other girl, right?

Eloise knew it wasn’t coincidence at all. Kristoff hadn’t sent anyone roses; in fact, Anna’s roses were delivered by Eloise herself. But sometimes true love needed a little help.

———

FIVE YEARS EARLIER, THE SAME DAY

Kristoff wasn’t at all sure which university the Christmas party belonged to, but he immediately found that it didn’t matter in the slightest. Most parties—especially around the holidays—had the same general decorative layout and duties, he learned.

True to her word, Anna was waiting by the entrance of the Gold room at 1:45, just like they’d agreed. She was wearing the same pink blouse from that morning but now with a brown skirt, her red hair in an elaborate braid. At least she had more appropriate clothes on now. She waved at Kristoff giddily when she saw him, and he gave her a polite smile in return. All of the other employees greeted her as she walked past, but other than that no one really regarded her more. It was as if her presence was a natural occurrence and expected without question. She was just another person helping out.

And yet, every single task she performed with immense cheer, Kristoff noticed. She wanted to help, but more so she was glad to, it made her happy to help. Kristoff smiled every time he looked up to see Anna setting up some table or decoration or another. Her family was so wealthy, she could afford to spend her time doing whatever she wanted, but instead she was helping the waitstaff in the ballroom, because she liked doing it. Because she thought it was fun, she had said.

Anna was not allowed to stay for the party, however; she was escorted up to her room by a well-dressed older woman Kristoff didn’t know around four, about an hour before the party was set to begin. Despite being the heiress of the entire hotel, Anna would not be allowed the fun excitement of attending the actual party. It seemed that there might be many things, perhaps, that Anna wasn’t allowed to do.

Along with setting up for the party, Kristoff was also expected to serve trays of food and drinks during the evening. Normally, Kristoff was not supposed to work such long shifts, from morning till night, but larger events—particularly during the holidays, when there were so many of them—were more demanding. And considering it was only the third of December, he knew he had a lot of long work days ahead of him.

The party finally wrapped up around nine, and although Kristoff was exhausted from the mad rush of constantly running to and from the kitchen to provide food and Christmas ambience for such a crowd of people, he was also pumping with adrenaline. It was hard work, and there was never a moment of rest, but it was interesting just being in the same vicinity as such high society. Kristoff wasn’t sure if he would ever desire to be a part of this elite someday, based on some of the conversations he had eavesdropped on; no, just experiencing it by way of waitstaff was enough.

Since it was his first day, a senior waiter named Robert had taken Kristoff under his wing during the event, teaching him the ropes and showing him how to tear down the ballroom afterward. “Almost every party, from set-up to clean-up, goes exactly the same,” Robert told him.

At ten fifteen, they were just finishing clearing off the tables of their floral arrangements when Kristoff noticed someone standing in the corner of the room. He suddenly realized it was Anna, watching the staff attentively but not reaching out to help.

“Does she always spy on the servers after parties?” Kristoff asked Robert quietly, nodding towards Anna.

Robert looked up her subtly. “Not always, but often enough that no one ever acknowledges it,” he said.

She stayed there waiting until finally Kristoff was finished and went over to her where she was leaning against the wall now. “Isn’t it a bit late for girls your age to be down here unchaperoned?” he asked teasingly. He found that the party atmosphere had given him new confidence, and spending the afternoon along side her had made him even more at ease around her.

Her arms were crossed, and she feigned offense at his remark. “Excuse you, I’m not some lost ingenue with no idea of what time it is. My father happens to be the owner of this hotel, and if I am to take over for him someday, I need to be aware of every little thing that goes on.” She gave Kristoff a wry yet encouraging smile.

“Really?” he said coolly. “So then what’s going on at the Plaza for the rest of the night?” Part of him said it to be funny and to hear what crazy excuse Anna would come up with, but another part of him felt his energy waning. Still he humored her. “You’ve only been standing here for the past few minutes, so you must have some kind of ulterior motive by coming down.”

Anna smirked. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking of heading over to the Terrace room, to check on things over there,” she answered. “Would you like to come?”

There hadn’t been anything going on in the Terrace room that day, and she knew it. “What do you want in there?” he asked confused.

“Would you like to join me?” she asked him again. “Seeing as how I’m apparently in need of a chaperone,” she added.

Kristoff blushed. “That was a— I didn’t mean to—“ He stopped talking and took stock in the heiress’s proposal. She wanted to hang out with him. A situation like this could lead into scandalous territory, especially for him as the male and the employee. Still, it sounded like fun, and Anna had promised him that morning that she wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“Sure,” he finally said, giving a small grin. “Just let me clock out.” The least he could do if he was going to sneak around the hotel with the owner’s daughter was to clock out on time.

Anna followed Kristoff into the break area of the kitchen (he had forgotten she was allowed pretty much anywhere) where he punched his card, returned his waiter’s jacket and bowtie, and reached for his own coat. He caught Anna staring at his torso, and he remembered the dress shirt he was wearing was just a bit too tight on him, revealing the tone and outline of his chest. He debated removing the dress shirt in favor of just the t-shirt he had on underneath. Maybe this was actually a bad idea.

But before Kristoff could change his mind, Anna had grabbed him by the forearm and was guiding him through the kitchen to the Terrace room.

Kristoff had only briefly peeked in the Terrace room earlier, just to familiarize himself with all the ballrooms. The Terrace room was one of the larger event spaces at the Plaza and featured a grand piano in one corner. The lights in the room were dimmed, since there had been no event in there that evening.

“What are we doing here, Anna?” he asked once they got there.

“Can you play piano?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I only know the guitar.” His aunt and uncle had gifted him an old guitar when he was a boy and playing it became a happy solace when he tired of mountain life.

“Oh, well, guitar and piano are very similar, I’ve heard,” Anna said. “I can teach you.”

She sat down at the piano bench, and when he didn’t immediately join her, she furiously motioned for him to sit to her left.

Kristoff did so but hesitantly. No, she wouldn’t purposely get him into trouble, but they were still two teenagers sitting very close together on a piano bench. As he sat closer to her, he noticed she smelled like lavender and roses. Meanwhile, he smelled faintly of sweat and grilled chicken.

“We’ll play the same notes, but I’ll take the high part and you can do the low,” she said, stretching her hands lightly across the keys. He copied her, focusing on her fingers instead of her face or her scent.

Anna showed him which keys corresponded with which notes and taught him some simple chords. She then taught him how to play “Jingle Bells”, both just the melody and the full song.

“How long have you been playing piano?” he asked her after about twenty minutes. Kristoff could tell she was downplaying her own skills to teach him the basics and make him less self-conscious.

“Since I was four,” she said without looking up at him. “I stopped taking lessons when I was twelve, so now I just play for fun.”

He smirked. “Do you do this often? Sneak down here and play for fun?”

Anna stopped playing now and looked at his face. “Fine, you caught me,” she said with a reserved expression. “This isn’t a regular thing for me. But I wanted to get to know you better, and I thought this would be a fun way of letting loose.”

Kristoff tried to hide his surprise at her response. She wasn’t just wanting to have fun after the party. She specifically wanted to have fun with him. Was that also not a common thing? Did she pick an employee at random every once in a while to hang out with?

He studied Anna’s face. She had the biggest eyes he had ever seen, the most perfect shade of robin’s eye blue. He noticed a light dusting of freckles all over her blushed ivory skin. And with his body so close to hers, Kristoff realized just how petite she was compared to him, like he could cradle her entire body in his arms alone. She was so beautiful.

In the distance, Kristoff heard the chime of a clock strike eleven. “It’s getting late,” he finally said, stopping himself from continuing his suggestive thoughts about her. He got up from the bench. “I should be going home, and it’s probably best for you to go back to your suite before your family notices you’re gone.”

Anna gave a small smile and sighed. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Thank you for humoring me. But at least you have a new skill to practice in your down time,” she said, gesturing to the piano.

Kristoff laughed and helped her up. They walked back together through the staff corridors—the best way, Anna assured him, to navigate the hotel after hours. He guided her to the freight elevator, which she insisted on using. Never mind that the service elevator would be utilized by any housekeepers making their evening rounds.

Anna leaned towards Kristoff as she waited for the elevator. “You did very well today,” she said, “very good work all around.”

He realized that she was grading his work ethic and laughed. “Glad to hear I’m doing a good job at my job.”

Her eyes lit up with hope now. “Same time tomorrow night?” she asked happily. She did not ask about room service in the morning or setting up for events during the day. Those encounters would be guaranteed. Late night piano sessions were not.

He looked down at her, then past her at a counter with floral arrangements leftover from the university party. Without thinking, he pulled out a rose and gave it to her. Anna cupped it in her small hands.

“See you tomorrow, Anna,” he said.

And with his first shift at the Plaza complete, Kristoff knew he had many more exhausting days ahead of him. But they would all be worth it if he got to spend just an hour every evening being with her.

#kristanna #eloise at christmastime #fanfiction #crossover fic #au fic #I made this

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theveryworstthing · 6 years ago

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members of one of the most famous lunk bands, The Dead Canaries. Needoll Crystalmole, Carvah and Karvah Wolfsilt, and Batty. info about them and the fate of other bands under the cut!

Members:

First, the most infamous member. Needoll Crystalmole is a lunk fashion designer who until recently served as the primary ballgown architect for Mander Drop dignitaries Dirtraven and Boulderboar. She's flashy, she's fabulous, you want to be her but also kind of want to fight her, she's Needoll Crystalmole and she is The Best At Sew.

Born in the last generation raised in the royal prison camp, Needoll's given Rolist name was Joshurock which is just the worst. She took on the moniker Needoll when she started secretly apprenticing to become a seamstress and just kinda kept using it as her real name forever.

She's regarded as one of the best seamstresses to come out of Mander Drop and boasts (loudly, often, and with great relish) that she can make anything to fit anybody better than anyone. Years of challenging this claim seems to have proven her right, much to her detractors' salty salty displeasure.

No one knows much about her war time past outside of stints constructing disguises for Woodland spies and being a singer/whatever instrument needs to be played kind of decently member in the band The Dead Canaries, but post war she became notorious for accepting jobs from rich Luxterran humans. In her eyes they were just going to hire someone shittier to bite her style anyway if she refused, and after all she'd been through she felt they owed her the walking around money. This all made her very wealthy, which paired with her brash and flamboyant nature, kept her constantly in the spotlight (perfect. that's just where she wanted to be).

If there's one thing she's bad at it's relationships. All that travel and partying left her the very absent mother of at least three children, one of which was Cashmere's seed-mother. This was news to Cashmere, who thought her grandseed was just some random jerk who ran out on her grandsoil. But it wasn't a random jerk. It was a famous jerk. And the only reason she found out is that Needoll needed someone to take her place as ballgown architect and she didn't trust anyone but her own blood.

Needless to say the reunion was heartwarming.

Needoll is currently out of commission after a stroke and a couple of heart attacks took her down. She is still alive, perhaps with the help of dark magics, but she's not working.

Carvah Wolfsilt (formerly Brentchip Wolfsilt). One of the most prolific creators of things that work surprisingly well as instruments, Carvah got her name from her excellent and speedy sculpting abilities. during the war many bands came to her after using their instruments as improvisational weaponry begging for quick replacements or repairs before a big show and she always delivered. When she wasn't doing that she was helping built and repair Woodland weaponry.

She also founded and played with her own band, The Dead Canaries. She liked making instruments more than playing shows but it was good field testing for her inventions so she stuck with it. She eventually quit however because her little sister was in the band and if she would have stayed any longer they would have either killed each other or ruined everything. So in true big sis manner, it seemed better to hand the toy over than to let it get destroyed in a tantrum.

Post war she joined a goblin friend's art studio where they experimented with getting certain sounds out of the weirdest things they could think of or the weirdest sounds out of the most mundane things they could think of. They were successful too, and even though her friend is gone, she's still doing shows with their studio. Her favorite objects that they made together was the harp that sounded like angry seagulls fighting over a corn chip and the sad guitar sandwich.

Her beard Does That because it's too heavy to properly spike and she only wears yellow eye shadow and red-orange lipstick. Most of her favorite pieces of clothing have bats on them.

Karvah Wolfsilt (formerly Rockchunk Wolfsilt) is the shorter gal and is Carvah's little sister. She's cool to most people but she's a nightmare mode little sis. She purposefully took her sister's chosen name, switched out one letter, and claimed it for herself. People started getting so confused that Carvah told everyone to just call her Cee Cee after a while. Karvah does this with everything. If her sister has something cool or unique she'll copy it, change it a little, and basically take it over or throw a tantrum until Carvah gives it up. She sees no problem with this, believing that she's taking her sister's okay base ideas with clearly terrible execution and making them flawless with her vision. Carvah obviously doesn't agree.

Fun Facts about Karvah: She actually is an amazing singer, she's short even for a dwarf, and she always has lipstick in her beard. During the war she was a war bard because she was honestly lost on what else to do and Batty was doing it so *shrug*. She's still the lead singer of The Dead Canaries today and she hasn't seen her sister in years.

Batty (formerly a name that no one remembers because she’s had her nickname since she was a kid and she hated her original name anyway) was the albino gal next to Karvah, and served as her bestie/sometimes girlfriend (it was complicated). She was the drummer for The Dead Canaries and specialized in...creative drumming. It seems you can get a surprising range of sound out of certain stalactites. She was also great at figuring out how to get any instrument or person to maximum loudness in any acoustic setting, which was surprising considering that she was a very quiet woman when she wasn't banging on something.

Fun Facts about Batty: her name was chosen for her after she was caught idly hanging in her harness and drumming on the side of a mine shaft with her feet (she was also yelled at for that because holy crap). she really overdid it with the false eyelashes but she didn't care because being albino meant her vision was crappy anyway and she got around fine. Also she was seemingly unkillable during her time as a chaos loving war bard but died in a freak napping accident literally days before the war ended.

Other Bands: These are the bands that didn’t break up after a week in fights over ‘creative differences’ and survived to perform in the post-war world. There were so many more than this. Almost everyone was in at least two bands at any given time and a lot of bands split up and reformed under different names so they’re a little tough to track. Some of these band names have been passed down to worthy successors or used for other things instead of being retired because dwarves love a well named thing and hate to waste good names. Some of the fights that happen over free spots in the more famous bands can get brutal so the bands that don’t encourage their new members to battle royale with stage equipment (which is few, music battles are fun) scout for new members in secret.

Still Playing With At Least 1 Original Member: The Dead Canaries- One of the most famous lunk bands. Most members are still alive but only one remains in the band. (mine) Shaft- Banned from several venues for ‘doing that on stage’ but a fan favorite. What is ‘that?’ no one really wants to say in public. You’ll know it when you see it. Earth Perms- Chill grandmas who mostly play festivals around their home cave system. Princess Echos- They fucking hate each other but they’re still going mostly out of spite. The Rich Veins- Chill grandmas who put out albums every once in a blue moon but live that hermit life and don’t tour. Everyone is always pleasantly surprised that they’re still alive. Dirty Diamond And The Pickax Pearls- Dirty has been in prison for years for killing that wizard but the rest of the band still tours. 6 Miles Under- All members alive and active despite their wild history. Rumors that the front woman is a necromancer have been denied by the group.

All Original Members Dead But The Successors Are Still Goin’: Gold lush- Still good. Frack Lung- Still good. Freshly Baked Mud Pies- Actually better than before but you’re not supposed to say it. Those Damn Mole Rats- Still good and only getting weirder with time like their founders intended. Rock Salt- Absolute garbo and extremely unrepentant about it. They’re like legacy garbage, terrible musicians/songwriters only. Charmingly bad. Cut Shaving And The Iron Deposits- Still good but way darker sound. The Jewel Tones- Still good but they make kid’s music now. Fools Gold- Also legacy garbage but not charmingly bad. People love to hate them. Dyna-mite And The Cave Ins- Still good even though their…energetic stage shows get them banned from a lot of places. Rue Be- Still good Light At The End Of The Bar Tab- Still good but the new members kind of bumbled into their positions and it’s more of a comedy lunk band now. Facet- Still good and still making people Feel Things Too Much. Optical Inclusions- Still good and still churning out those surreal dream-scape show experiences. Stalag Might- Still good and still VERY angry. Tunnel Vision- Still good

Retired: Regicide Brides- Executed for attempted regicide. Name is retired until another band rises who sounds half as good and is half as badass. Blood and Bat Guano- All died with a terrible secret. Band manager retired the name for unknown reasons. Gilded Willy And The Deep Dark Holes Are Going To Kill The King- Gilded willy and most of the Deep Dark Holes died trying to kill the king and the last Hole is now a dignitary because she succeeded. The Badger Babes- MIA. Name retired out of respect. Fistfight Afterglow- MIA. Name retired out of respect.

#fashion dwarves #small guide #dwarf #dwarves #lunk

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msbigredmachine · 6 years ago

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The Roman and Jaida Series, Part 3 - We Are Burned

Roman and Jaida have begun something they shouldn't have. Masking their affair behind separate relationships, how long will it be before one of them realizes they want something more, and not with their other half? The third instalment in the 'We Are' series

Jaida slid into the booth across from her friends and mumbled an apology for being late for breakfast.

"You look like shit," was Summer's pointed greeting, pushing a plate of waffles toward her friend.

Jaida cast her a withering look. "Thanks," she stated flatly, sliding her sunglasses onto her head. "How's the food?"

"Edible," the blonde athlete analyzed, scooping up some oatmeal. "Actually, I've noticed you don't seem to be getting a lot of sleep lately. Are you okay?"

Jaida kept her green eyes trained on her plate. There were a few reasons, and most of them involved a certain former member of the Shield. This time, it was a long night of FaceTime sexing. Having followed the Total Divas crew to Las Vegas, she'd snagged a hotel room for herself and therefore had free rein to do whatever she – and he – wanted. They'd only just finished a few hours ago, leaving her with little time to sleep and almost sleeping through her morning alarm. She could feel Alicia's eyes boring into her, waiting for an answer, but she wasn't going to get one.

Taking a small bite of her waffle, Jaida winced. It tasted like dry bread. "I'm fine. Just been busy," she said vaguely.

"Busy, huh?" Summer inquired, "Doin' what? Having sex with Roman?"

She felt her heart drop in her chest. She knew she'd gotten sloppier hiding it, but then again she should have known that nothing went under the radar in this company. She could only imagine who else knew about it.

Summer finally looked up, an eyebrow raised in interest. "So you've finally boarded the Reigns Train. About fuckin' time. Something tells me it's been happening for a while too."

A month, to be precise. The fact that it had gone relatively unnoticed for that long was a miracle in itself. "A while," she replied curtly.

"And you've been spending the night with him, right?" Alicia observed, sipping on her apple juice. "He never lets anyone stay over. Not to my knowledge anyway. I guess you're doing something right."

Jaida could hear the jealousy in the young woman's voice, but she opted to ignore it. "I guess."

Summer winked at the seamstress. "So give us the deets, Jay. He's good, right? We told you he was."

Good did not come close to describing it, but she was better off taking the indifferent route. "He's good," she shrugged again. Reaching for her glass of orange juice, Jaida met both of their incredulous stares. "What?"

"He's not just good, Jaida," Summer corrected, "He is the best. By a mile. Like, has he done that figure eight thing in your pussy with his tongue yet? I swear my eyes water every time-"

"Okay," Jaida interjected, increasingly uncomfortable. "Fine, whatever. He's awesome. Happy?" When Summer rested her elbows on the table and fixed her with a stare, a frown came upon the seamstress' face. "What?"

"He's going to hurt you, you know."

"And why would you say that?" Jaida said, an edge to her tone.

"Getting too deeply involved with Reigns never ends well," she stated matter-of-factly, "Not to mention Cameron will be on your ass when she finds out. When, not if. Notice how the rest of us have backed off since that ho stepped in?"

"Right, because Little Miss Gold-Digger is gonna stay faithful to Roman. She was all over Cesaro for weeks before she realized the office wasn't backing him anymore," said Jaida, frowning at the thought of the Samoan's rumored girlfriend, with whom she never saw eye to eye. Apparently the former Funkadactyl had an issue with Jaida's increasing appearances on Total Divas simply because she wasn't that – a Diva. Jaida cared little for what Cameron thought, especially when the so-called wrestler had as much wrestling credibility as Jaida herself. Vince wanted her on the show more often and she would be foolish to turn down that level of exposure. Reverting to the topic at hand, she said, "It's just sex, Summer. Nothing more, nothing less. We know where we stand."

"Right, that’s what you think," Alicia said snidely.

Taken aback, Jaida's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, what the fuck is your problem? Spit it out, now.”

"I know you haven't been around long sweetie, but this is how it works with Roman." Alicia's voice was low, but her tone was unmistakable. "If he likes you enough he'll keep you around for a while. Obviously he does, and he'll keep you coming back for more until you start having feelings for him. And then, the moment he realizes that, he'll get rid of you. You're playin' with fire, Jay, and it's gonna burn you. Just like you're certainly burning Lincoln."

"Oh, suddenly y'all care about Lincoln?" Jaida countered, irritated by Alicia's sudden self-righteous attitude, "Don't make me out to be the bad guy. I didn't hear you say nothin' when you was fuckin' Roman behind Wade's back." She glared at the other woman, inwardly satisfied by the way she stiffened. "You and Summer are the ones who told me to hop on it, and now that I have, you're mad? Please. I know what I'm getting into. I won't fall in love with him like you obviously did. I'm a grown-ass woman and I can handle myself. And I'll worry about Lincoln, not you."

"Fine then," said Alicia, her expression anything but fine, "Don't say you weren't warned."

"Hey, stop it, both of you," Summer said sternly, then met Jaida's eyes. "Look, Alicia's just saying be careful, alright?" she placated, "We genuinely don't want you to get hurt, babe."

"I won't. But thanks for worrying about me," she replied, the finality in her tone telling Summer to drop the subject.

Luckily, she picked up. "Okay. So what time's your interview with E?" she asked. The E network was flying in today to meet with the young seamstress for the inside scoop on the Divas' wrestling outfits and her designs. It was a huge opportunity for her and she couldn't wait for it.

As the ladies moved on to less volatile topics, a text came through to Jaida's phone.

Hey sweet pea. How's Vegas?

She tried not to smile, knowing it would prompt more nosy questions and judgmental glares. Good. 👍 Have my interview in a couple of hrs.

Cool. U gonna kill it. Have fun.😘

I will. She hesitated, then typed, I miss u Daddy 🥺 😩

His reply came rather quickly. 🥺 Miss u too baby girl. Layin in bed thinkin bout that thing u did with ur leg last night. Need them sexy thighs wrapped around my head like that 😏😈

Jaida licked her suddenly dry lips, her loins growing moist as she recalled their memorable FaceTime tryst the night before. Feeling rascally, she texted back: Thinkin bout u too…flat on ur back while I'm ridin that big 🍆.

Fuck, I'm hard now 😩😩😩 Hurry back soon so we can get it on for real.

Easy big boy. Take a cold shower, lol. I'll call u when I get back. 😚😙

She knew this was wrong. She had a boyfriend that she was essentially cheating on. It was dangerous waters she had chartered into but she was confident that she could bring herself out of it and all would be right again. No way was she going to end up like Alicia – the former Divas Champion made it quite obvious that somewhere along the line she had indeed fallen in love with Roman. But Jaida knew better than to go down that road. She could handle herself, and she planned on having as much fun with Roman first before she finally walked away. And she would walk away. Soon.

As soon as she could figure out how.

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

"Fuck, Jaida…"

"You like that, baby?" Jaida taunted the big man panting underneath her, looking back at him as she rode him reverse cowgirl. "Like how I'm ridin' this big dick?"

Roman's arms were spread at his sides, his fingers digging into the couch as he watched her pussy work his throbbing erection. Swearing softly, his head fell back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted, the feel of being deep inside her warm wetness taking him over. Jaida’s hips rolled diligently, her hands braced on his knees for leverage, thoroughly enjoying the sounds tumbling from his mouth. Roman ran his hands up her back before sliding down to her ass, giving each cheek an appreciative squeeze. "Mmm, yeah baby girl. Bounce that wet pussy on my dick," he drawled.

Jaida continued to ride him, gasping as she felt his thumb caress her second entrance before pushing inside. "Ooh, fuck, Daddy..."

“Like my thumb in your ass, baby?”

“Yesssss...” Raking her hair back with a groan, she pumped harder, faster on him, her naked skin slapping audibly against his.

"That’s it, ride that dick hard. Fuck me. Shit..." he moaned as her hand closed around his balls, massaging them while grinding down on him. She was so damn wet. Her moist pussy gripped him, holding his length hostage. He couldn't hold back anymore, he was too close. He surged to his feet, holding her in his arms, and dumped her back onto the couch stomach-first. He pulled her ass up in the air and shoved his dick back inside her pussy, smacking her ass as he did so. The stinging pain only added to her pleasure, and Jaida squealed, her moans coming in short, raspy breaths as he thrust into her hard, over and over. He wrapped one hand into her hair and pulled, forcing her head up, arching her back more, and most importantly, pushing that thick dick even deeper into her with every desperate press of his body against hers. She loved it when they went at it like this. No frills, no dilly-dallying; just straight-up vulgar fucking that hit her spot so sweetly.

Their moaning and heavy breathing echoed around the private locker room and mingled with the sounds of their bodies meeting. Roman smacked her ass again, gripping the soft flesh as he fucked her furiously, luring her closer to her climax. “Fuck, Daddy, I’m ‘bout to come,” she whined.

“I’m about to come too. Come for me,” he ordered, “Come for Daddy.”

On command, her orgasm hit her hard. She groaned out loud, tears springing to her eyes, her muscles tensing and her legs shaking as intense pleasure washed over her entire being. She felt his final surging thrusts before his body seized up, letting out a thick growl as he emptied his load inside her. He crumpled weakly on top of her body, spent and out of breath, before he found enough strength to pull out, swatting her backside one last time before he collapsed onto the other end of the couch, breathing hard as he tried to recoup his senses.

Jaida rolled onto her back and stretched lazily, purring contentedly from yet another satisfying bout with the hottie sitting across from her. They'd had sex in a few other adventurous places; in the backseat of his rental on the side of a deserted highway in Phoenix; inside a janitor's closet in a busy backstage area at the All State Arena in Chicago; the dark alleyway outside a dive bar in Dallas. And just last week, in one of the more romantic settings, the Jacuzzi at his penthouse suite in Manhattan, where he’d first eaten her pussy so good...Damn, she couldn’t walk properly for a good twenty-four hours after that night. Each time he was passionate and powerful and all-consuming. She liked her men strong and creative, and it didn't come any stronger or more creative than Roman Reigns. This was why she was all too happy to ignore Summer and Alicia and every warning thrown at her. The Reigns Train was a fun ride and she had no qualms hopping on it over and over again.

She saw his eyebrows knit together as he read whatever it was on his phone. "Cameron?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Every time he had that irritated look on his face, it was her.

The Samoan cut a nonchalant glance to her. "Yeah. So?"

"Nothin'," said Jaida, picking up her clothes so she could start getting dressed. "I don't think I should be here when your girlfriend shows up." She would rather eat her Louboutins than admit it, but the term left a sour taste in her mouth, even though she had no business feeling that way. Not when she had her own partner to feel guilty about.

Roman put his phone away and reached for his ring gear. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Really? That's what she's been telling everyone," said Jaida, distracted by the sight of his bare backside as he walked around the locker room.

"Everyone knows she's talking out of her ass," Roman was saying. "We're just fooling around."

Just like we are. "Well if you're so sure, you better handle that shit before she starts to really cramp your style."

"And what about you?" Roman questioned, tying a towel around his waist, "When are you gonna handle your man and tell him to quit whinin' like a little girl every time he calls you?"

A pang of guilt jabbed her insides. "Shut up, Reigns. Don't act like you know what's up."

At the sharp retort, the Samoan looked over at her, a smirk lighting up his features. "Ooh, did I hit a nerve, sweet pea? You think I don't hear y'all over the phone?"

Making an annoyed sound, she slipped into her ballet flats. "He misses me. There a problem with that?"

"He's fuckin' clingy is what it is," Roman chortled.

Jaida started to retort, caught herself, and shook her head. "You are the last person I should be discussing my relationship with. It wasn't part of our agreement. We fuck, we go our separate ways, we hook up the next time it's convenient. No private shit."

He pulled his disheveled hair into a bun at the top of his head. "I don't recall us discussing an agreement, but whatever. And you're the one who brought up Cameron. It's only fair I bring up your boyfriend."

"So you are saying Cameron is your girl," Jaida goaded.

Roman threw an annoyed look her way. "Don't be a bitch."

Jaida grinned. "Why so adamant though? Personally I think you two look cute together." It was a lie, but she only said it to get a rise out of the Pensacola native. He wasn't comfortable talking about things related to romance so it was the only way she could make him squirm. Well…that, and when she was deep-throating him. However, she was not expecting the response that followed.

"Not as good as you and I would look."

Jaida stared at him, blinking slowly as the out of the blue remark sank in. It was confusing moments and comments like that, that made her question Roman's true sentiments towards her. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she picked up her handbag. "You're not allowed to say stuff like that," she admonished him.

Roman lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I just did. Sue me."

"Whatever. You're just taking the piss like you always do." She walked past his big frame to inspect her reflection in the mirror. "I gotta go. You have a show to get ready for." She was turning to leave when she felt him grab her hand.

"You're gonna leave without giving me a kiss?" he said.

Turning back around, the seamstress raised an eyebrow in amusement. "What, the ten-minute long make-out session in the beginning wasn't enough?"

"What can I say? I like your lips," said Roman, flashing her a goofy grin as he intertwined their fingers and tugged her close to his body. "Come on, sweet pea. A kiss for good luck with my match tonight. The Big Show may be a bitch but he's still a tough bitch."

Rolling her green eyes, she tried to control her smile. "Fine. You're lucky I like your lips too." She tiptoed up and brushed her lips against his. Roman instantly seized control, his mouth and tongue sliding leisurely over hers, and just like that she was lost in him again. He was as incredible a kisser as he was a lover, and butterflies fluttered in her belly with every touch of his mouth.

"Want some company tonight?" she asked, her tone hopeful as she pressed her lips to his chin.

"I don't mind," he answered with another kiss. "I'll text you my room number."

"Okay," Jaida replied as Roman enveloped her in his muscular arms, holding her tight as they made out. "I should go," she whispered after a long moment.

"Mm-hmm," he murmured distractedly, gently squeezing her backside. Jaida giggled against his lips. He was hard again, straining against her center through his towel. She caressed the back of his neck and let her other hand trail the expanse of his naked back. "Seriously, I gotta go."

"Nothing's stopping you."

"You are," she giggled, moaning when he sucked her upper lip, then swept his tongue inside her mouth. She leaned into him as the kiss went on and on, and it was a full minute before Jaida found the strength to pull away. "Okay, I really should go," she chuckled, stepping away from him to take a final glance in the mirror. Roman looked on with a smirk, sensing her reluctance to leave, but enjoyed the sight of her walking away. Jaida slipped out of the locker room as deftly as she could, walking down the hallway with a huge grin on her face.

It was wrong, yes, but damn did it feel good.

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

The two days off she spent at Lincoln's L.A. mansion flew by, and before she knew it she was packing to return to work. WrestleMania was right around the corner and it was all hands on deck, from the on-air talent to the production crew to wardrobe. Everything and everyone needed to be perfect for the biggest show of the year. She tried to pretend that was the real reason she was excited to get back on the road and not because she was going to see Roman again. He sounded from his texts like he was really missing her though, and it was quite the ego boost.

"I don't like how short your stays are," Lincoln complained, sitting on his king sized bed as he watched her throw items into her carry-on suitcase. "You're barely here for a full day. I just don't think it makes any sense."

Sighing deeply, Jaida shook her head. They'd had various versions of this conversation, via the phone or in person, and they never ended well. "What do you want me to do, Linc? You want me to file a complaint to Vince McMahon? 'Hey Vince, my boyfriend doesn't see me enough'? This has been WWE's lifestyle since the seventies. People have been doing it way longer than I have without complaints."

"Well I don't like it. You're gone for days at a time, weeks even. Even when we're in close proximity in some city, you're always too busy to meet up, yet I'm willing to cancel whatever business meeting I have so that I can be with you. And then when we do meet up you're always on the phone being all secretive and shit."

Jaida could feel her hairs standing on end, and she wondered if maybe…just maybe…he knew. The guilt began to rear its ugly head, but she warded it off immediately. "I'm not being secretive about anything," she replied coolly.

"Really? Because it always seems like someone else has your attention. Has had it for a while too."

Her expression remained neutral, but inwardly she was panicking. Jesus, was she really that obvious?

"Why did you get back with me, Jaida?" Lincoln asked abruptly, ignoring the wounded look on her face. "I've been wondering…Am I a rebound or something? Your safe bet when some other guy decides he's bored with you? Which is it?"

Her heart sank to her toes as she tried her best to come up with an answer. She didn't think he was a rebound. She did care about him, and there was a real possibility that they could go back to how it was. But her feelings for him were rapidly paling in comparison to the intensity of her feelings for Roman, making things rather complicated. It was bad timing, getting back together right after first hooking up with Roman, and she was so far gone that she wasn't sure how to disentangle herself from this mess. "What do you think?" she challenged.

Frowning deeply, Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to think?"

"I want you to think it's neither, Lincoln. You're not a rebound or a safe bet. You're my boyfriend. I'm sorry I keep leaving but I have to work. This is my job just like you have yours."

"How about you quit?"

Jaida blinked in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah. You can come work for me, just like old times. You won't be gone for these ridiculous periods of time and we'll get to see each other."

The WWE seamstress straightened, glaring at Lincoln. "So let me get this straight," she said, "I should quit for you? Just like I basically quit my last job for you, is that right? Then I come work for you and have all the people whispering behind my back, that I only got the job because I'm fucking you? Like last time?"

"Come on babe, it won't be like that."

"And how do you know? Do you remember what I went through when our affair came out? Probably not. I don't even want to be in L.A. This place brings bad memories but I suck it up and come back because you live here. And you're talking about rebounds. I heard the bitch that outed us still lives around here. Shouldn't I be the one concerned?"

"Of course not," Lincoln said, offended, "What are you insinuating?

"Nothing. Nothing at all," she said coldly, looking at her watch. "I have a flight to catch. I'll call you when I land." Without another word, she grabbed her suitcase and marched out of the house into the cab.

Lincoln may have instigated their argument, but Jaida had deliberately stoked the fire and made it worse. And with good reason. How was she supposed to look him in the eye and tell him that she was holding out for another man? That she craved said other man's caress right this very moment? How was she meant to tell him she was a no-good, lying, cheating whore and that he deserved better? She couldn't. So she did the next best thing – she threw an excuse in his face, then ran away from the problem and hoped it could somehow solve itself. It was a much better solution than telling the truth.

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

The ringing of a cell phone shocked them both from sleep. Jaida lifted her head off of Roman's shoulder to glance at the alarm clock. Six a.m. "Fuck's sake, turn it off," she mumbled, snuggling against the big man's warmth.

Roman searched blindly for the offensive ring, opening one eye to look at the phone. "Yours," he grumbled, handing it to her and rolling onto his side. Yesterday had been a long day of interviews and motion capture work for the upcoming video game, followed by a live event in the evening. It was their day off and he was tired and needed some well-earned sleep, but listening to Jaida's phone conversation, he quickly realized things weren't going to get much better.

"It's early. What do you want?" she grumbled, sitting up in the bed.

Roman could always decipher from the tone of her voice when it was Lincoln on the phone, the dumbass constantly bitching about her being gone. His thoughts were confirmed when her fingers weaved through his hair. She always did that when she was talking to Lincoln and the Samoan was within reach of her. It was almost a reflexive thing, like some weird sort of comfort or defense mechanism from her boyfriend's diatribes. Not that he didn't like it; her hands were soft and dainty and soothing to the touch. He would have liked to stay and be her knight in shining armor this time but he needed to take a piss. Turning his face to kiss her fingers when they slid over his cheek, he rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.

Jaida was a new addition to his life that Roman found himself welcoming with open arms. Aside from their hot sexual escapades, he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. There was a little dynamic between them that they both liked to play off of. He liked their little talks, which was strange as he never stayed around long to talk with the bitches he fucked. He guess it helped that she could carry a half-decent conversation to complement her ability to fuck him six ways to Sunday. She also seemed to be the only person being straight with him regarding his career, when everyone else was either sugarcoating or whispering behind his back. He saw Dean's pre-Fast Lane interview with Renee, and the man he used to call brother pretty much accused Roman of taking the glory while he did all the dirty work while they were still a trio. It was obvious that the two men's friendship was slowly starting to deteriorate, and the impending loss felt equally as painful as Seth's sudden and unexpected betrayal. Cameron was too absorbed in her ill-advised plans for world domination to give him much time of day. How he had let her rope him into becoming her 'boyfriend', he didn't know. He was a trophy to her, a bright shiny accessory, and to him she was a convenience, a poor substitute for the woman currently occupying his bed.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. A couple of months ago he would have laughed at himself for sounding pussy-whipped. But things were changing. Every resistance that he had built to protect himself, to stay emotionally disconnected from anyone who could hurt him, was being picked apart by Jaida. He should have been done with her after the first night they had sex but here he was, months later, unable to imagine life without her. Yeah. That girl had made herself a nice little home under his skin, and in other places he wasn't ready to admit. But as long as the punk blowing up her phone remained in the picture, there was all likelihood that she would be gone just as quickly as she arrived. He previously thought he could handle the boyfriend being part of this equation, but now? Not so much. He just didn't know how to tell Jaida that without sounding like a pussy.

Rolling her eyes as she hung up, Jaida tossed her phone with a sigh, wincing when the device collided with Roman's phone on the bed. Hoping she hadn't cracked his screen, she took it to place it somewhere safer when the text message displayed caught her eye. She didn't want to snoop, but on seeing it was from Cameron, curiosity got the best of her.

Baby I know u wanted ur space, but u can't keep avoiding me. I know u remember what u said to me at the bar a couple of nights ago. Yeah we weren't exactly in a sober state of mind but if u said it then u must have been thinking it all this time right? I just want to know if you meant it. Well, I hope u do cuz I feel the same way abt u. I love u too. Call me.

Jaida read the text again, and then a third time, realization washing over her with the same brutal impact of a bucket of ice water. Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Numbly, she sat up on the edge of the bed, gathering the sheets up over her nude body, her mind whirling with a million different thoughts.

Roman returned from the bathroom, climbing back into the bed and coming up behind Jaida, oblivious to the inner turmoil brewing within the seamstress. "Mornin', sweet pea," he crooned, dipping his head to kiss her neck, his hand already slipping between her legs to touch her. His brows furrowed when instead she shifted away from him, confused by the frown on her pretty face. "What?"

For several seconds she didn't move. Then wordlessly, she tossed his phone onto the bed next to him. Glancing questioningly at her, he picked it up. Jaida turned to watch him read the text, and his reaction told her everything she needed to know.

"So it’s true? You told her you love her." she still had to ask, her voice eerily quiet. She wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.

Roman looked away, and his silence prompted tears to climb up her throat, but she swallowed them down and forced herself to speak. "Well? Did you?"

Roman sighed, reluctantly meeting her eyes. "I was drunk," he mumbled.

"Drunken words are sober thoughts, Reigns," she replied, shaking her head at the lame excuse.

"Baby girl-"

"You're 'drunk', and the first thing you say to a girl is you love her." As he averted his gaze again, she felt her stomach churn. "Why did you say that? Huh? Surely it couldn't have been to lure her into your bed; you've already fucked her. So what was it?"

"Look, I didn't mean that shit, okay?" said Roman, a frown of his own creasing his features. "Why are you so worked up about it? Are you jealous or something?"

Ignoring his question, Jaida reared back, blinking rapidly. "Oh, you didn't mean it," she repeated sarcastically. "So you just said it to fuck with her or somethin'. That what gets you off, Reigns? Fuckin' with people? You fuck them, then fuck with them, like it's some kind of sick game. You manipulate people."

"Really?" Roman countered angrily. "What, you gonna tell me I manipulated you into sleeping with me next? You think you're not manipulating Lincoln right now, sneakin' around behind his back? You got him wrapped around your finger, stringing him along and pretending you give a damn about him. If you did you wouldn't be here with me. You're such a hypocrite!"

"At least I don't go around telling people that I'm in love with them when I don't mean it!" Jaida yelled back, jumping up from the bed and gathering the sheets awkwardly around her naked body. Why did she feel so betrayed?

"That's because you never mean it. I bet you said it to your precious boyfriend back then because it's what he wanted to hear. But you lied, didn't you? You were only using him to further your fashion career. You were using him then, and you're using him now simply because you can."

The barb pierced Jaida right in the heart. "Shut your mouth. You don't know shit about me or him!"

"Oh, I know you just fine," Roman snarled, standing up as well and getting in her face. "Let's see; he was the son of the CEO at your famous little magazine, so you sank your claws into him. You probably got your hands on some higher-up to be in the WWE. And now, you're with me 'cause you realized I got a chance to be the man around here. So you can be seen hangin' off my arm. It's no coincidence you came to me after I won the Rumble, and you let me fuck you after months of playing hard to get." He sneered. "That's your M.O., ain't it sweet pea? Whoring yourself out to the highest bidder?"

Jaida stood there frozen, her mouth hanging open in shock. Then, her hand flew up, slapping Roman hard across the face. The impact rocked his head to the side, but Roman showed no emotion, only turned back slowly to face her.

"You bastard!" she hissed. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"The guy who just hit you with some truth," he said. "I made a mistake and you're fuckin' judging me for it. Go ahead then, if you think it will make you feel better about cheating on your boyfriend. Since you're such a saint and all."

Jaida's eyes narrowed. "I never said I was a saint, Roman-"

"Then get off my fuckin' back! You ain't my girl!" he roared. "I don't answer to you! Never have and never will!"

For several agonizingly long seconds, the two regarded each other warily, the tension in the air skyrocketing to suffocating levels. Unable to take it anymore, Jaida turned her back on him. "Fine," she snarled. "How about you leave then? Get out."

"Good idea," Roman answered harshly.

Before she could say anything else, he stormed away. With weakened knees Jaida lowered herself down on the bed, jamming her fingers into her hair. She could hear Roman packing up his things but she didn't turn back around. Neither said another word. Once the front door slammed shut, she choked back a sob.

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

Lincoln opened the door and was surprised to find Jaida standing there, suitcase in hand and tears in her eyes.

"Jay…are you okay?" he started to say, but that was all he got out before she launched herself at him, holding him tightly. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond, then he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back.

"I'm sorry, Linc. I'm so sorry."

His gaze softened. He hated seeing her cry. "Hey, it's okay, baby. Come on, get inside." He led her into the house and handed her suitcase to a helper to take up to his bedroom. "Is everything alright?"

"Now that I'm with you, yes."

"I'm sorry about what I said, Jay-Jay," Lincoln said softly, "I was selfish and inconsiderate. Let's forget about it okay?"

She smiled at him. He was such a sweetheart. "Consider it forgotten." She backed him into the house, undoing the buttons on his shirt as she kissed him over and over.

"Jaida," he whispered, his voice growing husky with desire.

"I want you, Linc. Make love to me," she pleaded. She kissed him again, deeper this time, and Lincoln knew he couldn't deny her if he wanted to.

As she leaned into her boyfriend's embrace, Jaida let everything and everyone else melt away. Lincoln was the guy she should be with. He was the guy that always made her laugh whenever she had a shitty day, always fascinated her with every story and theory that he shared. He was gorgeous and charismatic and showered her with gifts and affection. Any woman would consider herself lucky to have him, her included. When Roman looked at her, it was full of lust and an unspoken promise to tear her pussy up. It made her heart pound and set her body on fire. With one touch, he awakened all her senses and made her forget her own name. It wasn't that way with Lincoln but he possessed an ability that Roman didn't; he made her feel like a queen. It was a tale of two contrasts, none of which she could settle on. Until now. She decided that her days as a side piece were over.

It was time she stopped taking Linc for granted. He was good for her and from now on she was going to stick with him no matter what.

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

WrestleMania week was the busiest week of Jaida's life. She could count the number of hours she'd slept this week on one hand. She and Sandra worked overtime ensuring that the ring gear and costumes were in top shape for the biggest event on the wrestling calendar. She was glad she hadn't asked Lincoln to show up in San Francisco until the weekend, otherwise she wouldn't have had any time for him. Also, she was glad she was busy because it kept her from doing other things.

Like thinking about him.

Their fight from weeks ago played over and over in her mind, and a part of her chastised her for allowing herself to open up to him and become vulnerable. She should have listened to her gut from the beginning and stayed away because he was nothing but trouble. He still flitted through her mind though; his cocky smile, the feel of his warm skin against hers, the taste of his mouth, the primal grunt that came from somewhere deep inside his throat when he came apart for her. Now they were flat-out avoiding each other and she hated it, wishing she wasn't missing him as much as she was.

She supposed it was smart that they ended it...whatever 'it' was. Because frankly, she couldn't do it anymore; she couldn't keep juggling two men and keep putting herself through this heartache. It was only ever going to be sex between her and Roman and honestly – foolishly – she had wanted more. But it wasn't happening, so that fantasy was over now. Now she could concentrate on a man who truly cared for her and wanted to be with her, as well as preserve what was left of her fragile heart.

Lincoln arrived on Friday night for the weekend's events. On seeing his girlfriend in the hotel lobby, his features broke into that sexy smile that always made Jaida melt. He looked so good. She took one step forward, and then another, and within seconds she was wrapped in his arms and her legs were around his waist. His nose settled in her hair, and Jaida inhaled his scent, his warmth, his love. He kissed her cheek before his lips found hers, and a sigh of longing escaped her. She was aware they were being gawked at, but all her brain could register at the moment was that her boyfriend was here, and she was going to have him for the next three days. "How was your flight, babe?" she asked.

"Long. The plane actually had to stop to refuel. I was very inclined to fire my pilot on the spot." He yawned. "I'd love to yak some more but I'm beat. There anywhere a man can get some shut-eye?"

Jaida giggled. "Right this way, Mr. Brandt." She turned around and her stomach clenched as her gaze landed on Roman standing with Jimmy, Jey and Cameron in the lobby. Without acknowledging them, she dragged Lincoln towards the elevators.

"Why is that guy looking at you like that?"

She was afraid to ask, but she did anyway, sounding as indifferent as possible. "Who?"

"The huge guy with the tattoo," Lincoln said, casting a derisive gaze at Roman, who was staring at Jaida and making no attempts to hide it. "I don't like the way he's looking at you. Is that what you go through at work every day?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jaida said, "Sometimes. But whatever."

The elevator doors opened, preventing Jaida from saying more, thankfully. She grabbed Lincoln's hand and steered him into the elevator. Pressing the button corresponding with their hotel room floor, she pulled him close. "I'm free for the next three hours," she whispered in his ear.

Lincoln smiled and let his hands find her backside. "We can do a whole lot in three hours, baby." He nipped her jawline, causing her to giggle and lean further into him. As his lips slid down to her neck, she turned her head, locking eyes with Roman right before the elevator doors slid shut.

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

WrestleMania was a resounding success. The atmosphere in the packed Levi's Stadium was electric and every Superstar and Diva had brought their A-game to the show. Of course, Jaida was most invested in the main event, watching Roman win his very first WWE World Heavyweight title in a brutal fight with Brock. During their numerous late-night talks he'd fretted over this very moment, wondering if he was indeed ready for it. All his worries were seemingly washed away as he basked in his victory. Their conflict aside, she was very proud and happy for him. When he returned backstage, there was a line of Superstars applauding and congratulating him. Cameron jumped into his arms and planted a massive kiss on his lips, pretty much confirming their status as a couple. Jaida had had to look away, feeling her heart wrench in her chest.

The post-Mania party was fun. She'd missed the Hall of Fame after-party as she had to work, but she planned on living it up tonight. All the hard work of the past few weeks had paid off and it was a very satisfying feeling. It was a great party, and she would have enjoyed it more if she hadn't spent half the time eyeing up the man of the hour. The new Champion looked immaculate in the dark grey suit he was wearing, hair all shiny and slicked back, the WWE World Heavyweight title draped over one shoulder and Cameron on the other. She brushed off her jealousy, determined to make tonight the night to enjoy herself, to let her hair down, and spend time with her boyfriend. She didn't need anyone else, especially not goddamn Roman Reigns.

Returning from a very fun session on the dance floor with Paige and Naomi, she settled on Lincoln's lap, swiped his glass of champagne out of his hand and took a sip. "Baby! You ain't danced with me yet," she whined, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. She'd ensured to lavish as much attention as possible on him tonight.

"You know I'm not a great dancer," Lincoln replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "But I'm kinda beat. I think I should turn in."

"Really? You wanna leave?" said Jaida. "Should I come with you?"

Lincoln shook his head. "No need to, babe. You've worked hard for this and you deserve to have fun and enjoy yourself tonight. Don't worry about me. I won't wait up."

"Are you sure?" Jaida asked.

"Positive, sweetheart." He pressed his lips to hers once more, and looking into her eyes, he said, "I love you."

The seamstress gasped softly, her expression falling with guilt. It was the first time he said those three words since they got back together. She opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was "Come on, let me get Terry." Pulling him to his feet, she kissed his cheek and summoned one of the designated drivers to take him back to the hotel.

It was soon almost three in the morning, and gradually, people were checking out of the party. Management had organized a number of cars to ferry the Superstars and crew back to the hotel, leaving in pairs and groups. Jaida tiredly leaned against a still-vibrant Dolph Ziggler as she waited her turn to head out.

"Ziggler, you go in that car. Jaida, you ride in here," Michael Hayes hollered, waving her over as a valet held open the door for her. Gratefully she went over to the car, halting abruptly at the sight of the other passenger sat in the back seat.

Roman.

Oh no.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Michael barked, "Get in! We still got other people to pick up."

Seeing that her complaints would be futile, she gritted her teeth and cursed the gods as she slid inside the car, keeping as far away from the Samoan as possible. The distance from the party to the hotel was on the long side and judging from the thick cloud of uncomfortable silence hanging in the air already, it was not going to be fun. She wished she was at least riding shotgun so she wouldn't have to be this close to him.

Several minutes passed, and Jaida realized the only way the tension could dissipate was if she made small talk. "So you're Champ now. Congrats," she said, looking at the title so she wouldn't have to look at him.

Roman turned his gaze from the window. "Thanks," he responded. "You believed I could do it, so I'm glad I proved you right."

Jaida could only smile at him. "Good," she said.

Awkward silence descended over them once more, the sound of his fingers drumming his title belt the only thing preventing the quiet from suffocating them.

"You look really beautiful," Roman spoke up. He gazed at her, taking in her gorgeous dress, and he had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her. He'd wanted to touch her all weekend, particularly at the Hall of Fame ceremony, to take her somewhere private and rip off the gown she’d had on. As he lifted the title in the middle of that ring tonight, battered and bruised, she'd popped into his mind, and he hoped that despite their fiery history, there was still a proud smile lighting up her beautiful face. He'd taken every advantage to watch her tonight as well, mingling with the talent and crew, dancing with Paige and Naomi, making out with Lincoln, which made the Pensacola native's blood boil. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss being with her. He missed talking with her, missed her trash-talking when they were in bed. He missed her little laugh, and the moans that escaped her when he touched her most sensitive spots; the way she tightened around him, her eyes rolling back as she surrendered to him…

At the look in his eyes, Jaida felt her insides tighten. "Thanks. You look really good too," she acknowledged after a beat.

Roman huffed and rolled his eyes. "Why so nervous, sweet pea? Scared your boyfriend's gonna see us together?"

Jaida frowned. "Leave him out of this, Reigns. Besides, it's not like there's anything between me and you anymore."

Chuckling snidely, the Samoan crossed his arms. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You think I haven't noticed you staring at me?"

“Only because you’re the one staring.”

“And yet, you stare right back,” he taunted.

"Do you have to be a fuckin' jackass?" Jaida argued, riled up already. It was uncanny how easily he was able to do that. "Why can't you leave well enough alone?"

"Because you need to quit kiddin' yourself and stop hidin' behind your fuckin' boyfriend!” He was tired, both mentally and physically, but somewhere inside him he still found the strength to bicker with her. It was a dangerous hold she had on him. Still, he turned in his seat, his grey irises boring into hers. "Especially when we both know you still want me."

Picking an imaginary piece of lint out of her dress, Jaida scoffed. "No I don't."

"Fuck outta here with that bullshit. I see right through your little PDA act. You still think about me, don't you? When you're kissing him, fuckin' him?" A cruel smile formed on his lips. "Maybe you try not to, but you can't help yourself, right sweet pea? I'm under your skin."

"Shut the fuck up," she hissed, wishing she was anywhere but here.

"Why? Because I'm telling the truth?"

"What do you want from me, Reigns?" she rounded on him, impatiently pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Huh? What do you want me to say? That you're all I think about anymore? That every time I close my eyes I see your face, fuckin' haunting me? That I miss you? Is that what you want? Fine! I admit it!"

She watched him shrink back in his seat, surprise etched on his handsome features. Evidently, he hadn't expected her to cave in. But she was tired of everything, tired of fighting. She rambled on, her voice warming with pent-up emotion. "Linc is a good guy. He loves me. Even with all the time that's passed between us, he never stopped. And he's good to me in every way possible. But yet I can't tell him I feel the same way because I can't get your dumb ass out of my head. You look at me and I can barely breathe, let alone when you touch me. I can't stand you, but at the same time I feel like I'll go insane if I'm not near you." Her voice cracked, and she bit down on her lip as she struggled to curb her feelings. "You were right. I am a whore. I've been cheating on a wonderful man and I'm supposed to feel horrible about it. But I don't. So what kind of person does that make me?"

She couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't bear the myriad of emotions that were weighing so heavily on her. More horrifyingly, she couldn't stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She drew her knees up to her chest and tucked her face between her knees, trying to will away the painful ache in her heart.

Seeing her shaking shoulders, Roman's heart sank. "Jaida?" His voice was sweet and hushed all of a sudden. "Fuck. Jay, don't," he pleaded. "Come on, I'm sorry. Please don't cry."

She refused to meet his eyes even when he reached across the seat and put a hand on her arm. It was mortifying that he was seeing her this way, but she couldn't help herself. She was beyond the point of no return now. It was stupid. She had a great boyfriend and her career was going strong. She had no reason to cry about anything, and yet…

Roman set aside his World title, the hardware's significance suddenly diminishing in comparison to the vision of the weeping woman. "Baby girl." His voice was in her ear now, and she made no move to stop him from pulling her smaller body onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her face in his neck, holding on for dear life while he rubbed her back soothingly.

"Look at me," Roman whispered.

"No…"

"Jaida," he said sternly, carefully guiding her face up. In the darkness of the car, tearful green eyes reluctantly met grey. In a move that shocked both of them, he leaned in and kissed the tears on both her cheeks. "What do you want from me, baby?" he asked gently, his hand warm on her cheek. "What do you really want?"

She sniffled. "Roman…" Inhaling sharply, she made a feeble attempt to backtrack. "I…I shouldn't have said those things…I've had a lot to drink and-"

"Stop," he interrupted calmly. "Enough with the bullshit. What do you want? We both know the answer to that, but I need you to tell me yourself, Jaida," he urged. "So do it. Say the word and it's done." He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, but she turned her head away. "Say it, Jaida. Tell me you want to be with me."

"No."

"Jaida!"

"No! I can't!" she wailed.

"Yes, you can, just say it," Roman insisted, pulling her face back to him again. "Damn it, Jaida, look at me-"

In the next breath they were kissing, lips crashing against the other’s. Neither could tell who had initiated it, but that wasn't going to stop them. In one quick move Jaida was straddling Roman's lap as they devoured each other with heated, open-mouthed kisses. They groped each other, with Jaida ripping off his suit jacket while Roman tugged the top of her short dress down to her waist. She groaned into his mouth as he kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples between his fingers, before breaking their kiss to suck on each nipple. Every nerve ending in her body came to life as she pressed against him, caressing his hair, eyes shut in pleasure. She should have stopped dreaming about him by now. She should have stopped entertaining the fantasies, but it was proving very difficult. And now that she could feel his breath on her skin, his hands on her body, his length stiffening between her thighs, it was going to be damn near impossible. Everything else within her shut down, leaving her with nothing but hot, burning need that could only be quenched by his touch, by his taste, by him.

This was wrong. It was only going to make things much more complicated. But the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted Jaida at that moment. She had never looked as beautiful as she did right then, sitting in his lap, lips parted and panting for him, her gorgeous green eyes rimmed red with tears that he couldn't help but kiss away. And there was a whole lot more he wanted to kiss and reacquaint himself with, damn the consequences.

There was no time for foreplay, and it wasn't what either of them needed at the moment. Jaida fumbled with his belt and then the button of his tailored dress pants. Once she was done with those, she yanked his zipper down and snaked her hand inside his pants. Roman threw his head back against the backseat and groaned as Jaida started stroking him with frightening expertise. He kept telling himself that he had a girlfriend waiting back at the hotel, but as his hand glided up Jaida's thigh and tugged her panties to the side, he couldn't care less about Cameron. He couldn't care about anything else as Jaida lowered herself onto him. All was right in the world, if only for these few minutes, because he had this beautiful woman in his arms where she belonged.

As Roman pillaged the column of her throat with his mouth, Jaida stopped worrying about how wrong this was and just let herself feel. Because honestly, it wasn't going to change anything. She would still get out of this car and go back to Lincoln and be his girlfriend again. But for now, she needed this. She needed the spark that only Roman Reigns could ignite inside of her. She needed to hear his spine-tingling baritone voice in her ear, feel the passion that only he could give her. The passion came in waves as she locked eyes with him, feeling his hands slide over her thighs to grip her backside and guide her up and down his dick. She rode him wildly, her panting moans blending with his as pleasure built up within her. It was nothing short of incredible, how good he felt inside her, how good he made her feel. No one came close. It was just a shame that she had realized it too late and there was nothing she could do about it.

They had both reached a frenzied climax when they felt the car slowing to a stop. They were at the hotel. Avoiding eye contact, they straightened their clothing, a long edgy silence filling the car as each came to grips with what they had just done.

Clearing her throat, Jaida managed to speak. "This can't happen again," she muttered, smoothing her hair back in place. "You have Cameron now and I have Lincoln. I care about him and I want to make it work with him." She looked at him with remorseful eyes. "I'm sorry."

For a long time he didn't respond. Merely held her gaze with those deep penetrative silver eyes of his, making the seamstress squirm in her seat. Finally, he broke eye contact, and she could see his jaw clench as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You are such a bitch," he mumbled, staring straight ahead.

Jaida visibly flinched, as though she'd been struck by a bullet. The venom in his tone made her chest tighten with despair. "Roman-"

"Get out. Get the fuck out."

It would have hurt less if he'd slapped her. Speechless, she scrambled out of the car and hurried into the back entrance of the hotel, not stopping until she'd stumbled into an elevator. The second the doors slid shut, she burst into tears, sliding dejectedly down to the floor as she wept. It was suddenly hard to breathe, a desperate effort to slow down the dizzying vertigo that suddenly overtook her. She could still smell his scent, taste his lips, feel his touch. And now it was all gone, simply because she had allowed it to.

It's for the best, she tried to tell herself, You did the right thing. It's for the best.

And yet she felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman and jaida #the we are series #msbigredmachine

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years ago

Text

but please don’t bite: thin walls lament [1/2]

{Roger Taylor/Original Character/Brian May}

Summary: What happens on Halloween stays on Halloween; or, Ash’s costume catches the eye of more than just Roger, and after weeks of hearing certain noises through the walls, Brian feels like a terrible friend for idly lusting after his flatmate’s girlfriend. Or; friends shag friends and it’s not a big deal.

A/N: 5380 words. NSFW BUT NO SMUT; drinking, discussions of nudity and of sex, but no actual sex. I think I need to make the smut it’s own fic if I write it, because this is already a lot. If you want a follow up PWP chapter lemme know. This is essentially the entire lead up to get the three of them to the point where they’re all comfortable sleeping together, and I wouldn’t have felt right not including this. Anyways; halloween shenanigans and threesome propositions.

[aydtd]

Ash is, for lack of a better word, sharp. There’s a bites to her words and her smile is dangerous and something about her is a little bit vicious, a little bit of an edge to her. At least compared to most of the girls Brian is used to hanging around the band. He’s seen the scratch marks she’s left on Roger, who, at least judging by the noise coming through the - goddamn thin - walls and the hickies she can’t be bothered hiding, he gives as good as he gets, not that Brian tries to think about that. At least not a lot. Okay, at least not a lot while sober.

But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him.

Or maybe he’s just fucking sick of hearing them through the walls when he’s trying to sleep, keeping him awake and feeling lonely and hard despite himself. It’s not that he doesn’t get his fair share of girls, it’s not that he’s jealous even, despite Roger’s constant outpacing of him, it’s just that he’s always sort of... played it safe. Sharp is intriguing at times. And from what he’s heard, it’s fun.

It’s easy to put out of his mind most of the time, like now for instance, it’s Halloween after all, he’s got bigger things to worry about. Like a costume.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Freddie doesn’t even stop once the door is opened, just swans past into the shared apartment, making a beeline for the fridge.

“Well I’m James Bond, aren’t I?” Brian frowned, shutting the door and fiddling self-consciously with his buttons. Freddie’s already cracked one of the beers from the fridge as he leans against the counter, appraising Brian and his suit for a long moment.

“You’re no Sean Connery,” Freddie finally concedes, before taking a swig, “though I could see George Lazenby I suppose.” Brian just rolls his eyes and throws himself onto the sofa, waiting for Roger to finish getting ready and John to show up before they all head to the party together.

Freddie, for his part, is wearing a ratty fur coat that looks like it’s being held together by hope and lint, and calling himself a werewolf, while John shows up with what looks to be a bolt on either side of his neck, his hair slicked back in a way that’s very different from Brian’s, claiming to be Frankenstein’s monster. Roger’s got a plastic knife on a headband, and some fake bloodstained clothes, and he flips off the others as they boo him for his lack of effort. Freddie throws an empty beer can at him. Brian tuts, and tells him that Ash will be disappointed. Roger throws Freddie’s empty beer can at him in response.

The party’s being held by one of Freddie’s friends from university, and Brian is thankful it’s Halloween, because despite the party being held in a flat, they couldn’t get away with music this loud on a regular Tuesday night. The flat turns out to be an entire floor of a dorm, and the party turns out to be a rather rowdy round of predrinks before they all head to the pub to get properly shitfaced, though many seem to be getting close to hammered already, despite it being only eight.

Freddie’s disappeared into the crowd about two minutes after they get in the door. It’s like some shitty, new-age masquerade, between makeup and hair and costumes and masks, absolutely no-one is recognisable, that is, if there was anyone to recognise; there’s even a very tall ghost that Brian deduces is actually one person on someone else’s shoulders beneath a sheet. That seems unsafe.

John makes his way to the kitchen without too much preamble, and Brian follows him with a six pack of beers in hand, though Roger starts searching through the crowd to see if Ash has turned up yet. It’s been a while since Brian had been to a uni bar night, and he’d forgotten how overwhelming they could be.

John manages to strike up a conversation with a young woman dressed like Wonder Woman who’s sitting on the counter, and Brian spots Freddie in the middle of an animated discussion at the side of the room, but that’s about the same time as the two-person ghost, or at least the top of the two-person ghost, runs smack bang into one of the overhead lights, and even over the music Brian can hear the all too familiar ‘ow, fuck!’.

The bottom of the ghost pulls off the sheet, and there, sitting on her former RA’s shoulders, is Ash, one hand on his head for stability, the other holding a can of beer to her sore forehead. And okay, Brian wishes his first thought was of her safety, to ask if she’s okay, but his words sort of die in his throat because she’s dressed like a gogo dancer and the sight of her in tiny, bright red shorts and a silver, frilled tank top might have broken something in his brain.

Being taller than the rest of the crowd has it’s advantages, however, as the moment she’s back down on the ground, she’s already being greeted by both Roger and Freddie who managed to spot her. Brian gets another drink. His rented suit feels ill-fitting, both because it is, and because he’s far too sober for this crowd.

Brian never seen Ash drunk, he realises when she’s stumbling into the kitchen with Roger behind her absolutely roaring with laughter, and her whole face lights up as she finally spots Brian and John.

“My boys!” She sounds absolutely delighted as she throws her arms in the air, crumpled beer can in her hand. The beer can is thrown into the sink, which John moves to the recycling after she’s done hugging him. She takes a moment before she hugs Brian, exaggerated frown on her face as she smooths out his lapels, before looking up at him.

“You clean up alright,” she says, finally smiling, and he raises an eyebrow at her, his words.

“What glowing praise; you know I straightened my hair for this.” He huffed, to which Ash rolled her eyes, flipping her own hair over her shoulder.

“So did I,” after a beat, her hand came up to pluck at the shoulder of his jacket, “rented?” He nods once and her expression sours. “You put more effort in than that muppet at least.” She grumbles, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder at Roger who was eyeing off the bowl of chips with a surprising intensity, before he gives an indignant ‘hey’.

Ash’s gogo boots give her a little height when they hug, but he still bends enough so she can wrap her arms around his neck. Drunk, affectionate, and enthusiastic, she presses her cheek to his, leans into the hug, before she leans back and gives him a shove so she can get to the refrigerator.

“All I’m saying,” the way she starts the sentence makes Brian think it’s a conversation that she was picking up in the middle of, and she emerges from the fridge with two drinks in hand, moving back to stand at the counter by Roger, “is that you could have come to me, I could have made something for you.”

“And you would have complained the whole time,” Roger counters, opening his drink and wrapping an arm around Ash.

“Of definitely,” Ash agrees, leaning against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, “but anything’s better than whatever this is.” With a grin, she pinches at the shirt by his hip. When Roger goes to lean his head against hers, the plastic knife on the headband pokes Ash, and her yelp overshadows his rebuttal. Without hesitating she yanks the headband from his head, stepping up in front of him. “See, this whole design is fucking atrocious-”

“Without the knife” Roger just seems amused, his hands on her ass as he pulls her to stand close, between his legs as he leans against the counter, “I’m just some dickhead in a bloody shirt.”

“Yeah, I said the whole design-” But Ash’s voice dies in her throat at she catches the way Roger’s smiling at her, equal parts amused and endeared; she actually sounds bashful where she’s suddenly fiddling with the headband, looking at it rather than at Roger’s smile, “stop it, I’m trying to make a point.” She muttered, blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Stop what? I’m listening; atrocious design, I’m dating a seamstress, etcetera, etcetera,” he only grins wider when she looks up at him like she doesn’t know whether or not to roll her eyes. He pulls her closer, if it were even possible, his forehead resting against hers, still smiling at her like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and how it makes her heart beat just a little faster, “what point were you making again, love?”

With a grin, Ash leans back, gently putting the headband back, before she wraps her arms around Roger’s neck. Which is about the time Brian decides he needs to leave the kitchen; he gets enough of this at home, he doesn’t need to deal with it on Halloween. He strongly considers grabbing Deaky before he makes a break for it; there’s barely space between Ash and Roger, and proximity like that, especially with alcohol involved, always lead to far more PDA than anyone should rightly have to witness, but Deaky’s already by the record player and bopping along.

It gets easier to go through predrinks and not think about Ash’s thighs in those shorts, which shouldn’t rightly be called shorts, when he finds Freddie, who goes around introducing him to everyone he knows at the party. Ash’s old RA recognises him, makes conversation easily, and the two bond over both going for their Masters degrees. But then the music is off and it’s already almost eleven and everyone’s making their way to the pub, and Brian’s halfway down the street when he hears ‘I can’t walk faster I’ve got little legs and I’m in heels!’

“Barely,” Freddie scoffs in return.

“They’re taller than yours!” Ash snipes back, though there’s laughter in her voice, and maybe it’s because he’s already seen her on someone’s shoulders earlier in the night, the seed of the idea being planted in his mind, but Brian hears himself offering to carry her.

“You never offer to carry me anywhere,” Roger sulks as Ash gleefully climbs onto Brian’s shoulders from a park bench, her thighs smooth against his cheeks when she settles into place.

“Ask me again when you shave your legs,” Brian says loftily, and Ash actually giggles at that, her hands resting gently on his head, his aggressively slicked-back hair, for stability. Conversation continues as normal, but it’s getting really fucking difficult to not think about how smooth and soft her thighs are, how she still smells faintly like some sort of fruity perfume. At one point she scrapes her nails across his scalp, through his straightened hair in a way that no-one’s really been able to in a long time, and he actually has to swallow and involuntary groan. She seems absolutely oblivious from her perch.

The pub is practically bursting at the seams with people, and within five minutes Brian’s found himself alone. Or well, not alone, there’s been quite a few girls who seem rather enamoured with him and his suit, girls who want to buy him drinks or take him home. There’s a girl with dark hair and dark eyes in a particularly striking cat costume, but there’s just something about her that doesn’t feel right. Or maybe it’s him, maybe it’s the night, maybe he’s tired of safe girls, and of the sound of his best mate getting off with the bartender down the hall.

Sometimes, like right now, sitting on a sofa in the corner of the pub, he considers being with someone like Ash, a departure from what he liked to consider ‘his type’. Usually he’s fine, he and Ash have been friends for years at this point, she’s been with Roger - okay they won’t say exactly for how long - longer than either of them are willing to admit, which means he always tries to keep his wandering eyes away from her, and yeah okay he’s considered her in the abstract at times - sometimes personal times, when the the flat went quiet and all he had was the echoes of her moans ringing in his ears, which makes him feel both gross, and like a bad friend - but he’s never seriously considered her.

Halloween’s got him feeling all sorts of ways, none of them good for him.

Besides, she’s too mean for him, too mean by half. Perfect for Roger though.

However, speak of the devil; before he registers what’s happening, there’s a flurry of movement, of shiny fringe and red, leather shorts, of giggling, and Ash bursts from the crowd and falls back onto the sofa, over the arm and into Brian’s lap. It’s as if she barely registers him as Roger follows where he’s holding her hand, and he sits on the little sofa, pulling Ash into a kiss, but she’s still in Brian’s lap. He might be panicking, just a little, caught in red handed in his indecent thoughts.

“Guys,” they don’t seem to be paying him attention, so he gives Ash a gentle, awkward shove, “guys.” He tries more insistently.

“Sorry,” Ash is giggling, leaning back to give Brian an apologetic look, and his chin an affectionate scratch. He notes there’s already a hickey blooming on her collar as she climbs from him to sit herself in Roger’s lap, to straddle him and go back to kissing him. Brian’s still feeling too close for comfort on this two-person sofa.

“Should I crash at Freddie’s tonight?” He asks loudly, and Ash trails kisses down Roger’s throat as he answers.

“I mean if you wanna hear him and Mary go at it, be my guest.” Roger snickered, before he lifted Ash’s chin with his finger, grinning at where she was stifling a laugh of her own, tipsy enough to be amused at the whole situation.

“Great,” Brian rolled his eyes, muttering low enough that he thought they wouldn’t hear, “hear Freddie and Mary or you guys.”

“Or you could stop sulking and join us,” Ash offers, leaning back to look Brian in the eyes where she may have just broken his brain from a second time that night. After a very long moment has passed, Roger, who hand been waiting patiently, squeezes her ass, the nails of his other hand digging impatiently into her thighs. Sharp.

Brian looks to Roger now, who would look almost bored if not for his smirk; he’s so carefully casual.

“What?” Brian directs the question to Roger now, and the smirk widens, just a little. His thumb rubs gently over the little half-moon nail indents he’s left on Ash’s thigh that’ll fade in a few minutes.

“Anything to stop you being all passive aggressive about your blue balls around the flat,” he snorts, and Ash grins as Brian feels himself turn scarlet, “you know you can only make tea angrily first thing in the morning so many times before I realise something’s actually wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong!” He tries to protest, “and I don’t need a pity shag, and I really don’t need a pity anything from you, Roger.” He scoffs, and Roger just shrugs, leaning back against the sofa, his gaze sliding to Ash, but he’s still smiling. Ash looks half amused, but there’s something in her gaze, with her pupils blown wide and dark, that has Brian’s breath catch in her throat.

“Christ, you think I’m the kind of person who pity-fucks?” She rolls her eyes, and both Roger and Brian manage to show some restraint; Roger about her colourful first year in London, and Brian about Roger, but the moment passes. “Anyways, don’t mind him, he’s a dickhead,” she swatted dismissively at Roger as he pinched her ass in protest, “but it’s not a pity shag, though he’s right about the tea thing.” She laughs a little at that, “either way, the offer’s-” and her lips twist into a sharp, dangerous smile that has Brian’s heart rate pick up in his chest, “the offer’s there, at least for tonight,” a beat passes before her grin turns to something amused, “you know, if you wanna be on the other side of those thin-ass walls.”

“Maybe you’re just loud,” Brian says before he fully registers what he’s saying, though it delights Ash and Roger. “Well if,” he hesitates for a moment, and the other two occupants of the couch wait, and Ash tries her best not to look to eager, worried that she’s going to scare him off, “if we’re going to do this we’re not doing it here; Freddie would have a field day.” Ash, as if suddenly remembering the presence of everyone else in the bar, nods quickly, a blush rising on her cheeks.

“I would like to still be able to look John in the eye,” Roger agreed. Ash is the first to stand, to offer her hand to both boys with a pleased and knowing little smile that is far cuter than it has any right to be given the situation. They tell the other’s they’re leaving-

“Together?” Freddie smirks, raising an eyebrow at Brian before he looks back at Ash and Roger, “kinky.” He smirks, and Ash pointedly rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t be gross, Freds.” She admonished before kissing him on the cheek and giving John a hug. He may have been joking, but there’s still a paranoia, a nervousness that permeates half of the walk back to their flat. Roger’s got his arm around Ash and they’re bantering easily in the night air, Roger bringing up other costumes he saw during the night and Ash rating them as either better or worse than his terrible murder-victim costume. Brian is quiet, has a smoke and looks up at the stars while they walk. However, as they get closer to the flat, as Ash takes his hand to give a reassuring squeeze, he can feel the paranoia melting away, and he lets him self actually feel a little excitement.

It’s weird, of course it’s weird, the moment they step back into the flat there’s a hesitation, a bit of confusion, a ‘okay, we’re here, now what?’ and Ash steps through into the living room.

“Anyone want a drink?” She calls, and the tension breaks as both Roger and Brian agree, following quickly after her. Roger flops onto the sofa to wait for her to come back, but Brian, still a little hesitant, follows her into the kitchen. She’s pulling out beers from the back of the fridge when he finds her, bent over to get at the emergency stash, which was the only thing usually left after a night out.

He takes a good, long moment to admire the visual before he hears a loud cough, and looking beyond just her ass in those shorts, he sees Ash peering back at him from the fridge, grinning. After a moment, she straightens up and turns back to where he’s fumbling for an excuse; he doesn’t need one, not tonight. She offers him his drink.

“Can I-?” He takes the drink and only pauses for a beat, stepping into her space and putting the can on the counter beside the fridge before he’s cupping her face in his hands. In that moment, he searches her eyes for any hesitation, and sense that something was off or wrong, but instead, she’s smiling.

“Of course, love,” and she raises herself on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as he leans in, slow and deliberate, before his lips are on hers. She kisses softer than expected, not that he really knows what he was expecting, not that he’s ever really thought of her in this sort of way before; she’s not blind, obviously, but he’s always tried to keep some modicum of professionalism between them. But that’s a problem for tomorrow Brian to mend.

“Hey-” Brian moves back a little, and Ash takes the moment to hop up onto the counter, and Brian’s hands come to rest on her thighs like he’s seen Roger do so many times before, “don’t call me ‘love’, it’s just- it’s a bit weird.” Ash looks like she wants to make a joke, an amused glint in her eyes, but instead she snaps her mouth shut, nodding, before pulling him to stand close between her legs.

“Noted; can do.” She goes to kiss him again, but Brian can’t help but ask the question that’s been plaguing him since the offer first arose.

“Is this something you two talked about?” He asked, and Ash’s expression became a little wry as she leaned back, her arms moving from around his neck to propping her up as she leaned back, giving him an evaluative stare.

“Of course the possibility came up.”

“Me specifically?” He asks, and Ash seems a little confused, a little fond, as if wondering why he was asking now of all times. After a moment, he hears the soft thump of her heels gentle against the cupboards as she swings her legs.

“Well I called Twiggy but she wasn’t available,” Brian’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and there’s a strange moment that passes as Ash watches him consider the joke and it’s implications, before he decides to let it go, brow furrowing as he returns to his initial dilemma.

“Yeah but-”

“I think I know where this is going;” she cuts him off with a soft smile, sitting just a little straighter, “Freddie is a brother to me and John - how do I put this delicately -” she does actually pause, considering her words and dropping his gaze as her expression edges on self deprecating, though she can’t actually bring herself to voice her thoughts.

“Should know better?” Brian fills in for her, and Ash tips her head from side to side as she turns thoughtful for a moment.

“Not in such blunt terms but yes, essentially.” Finally she looks back at him, green eyes wide and dark, her lipstick having been rubbed off much earlier in the night, with mascara still clinging to her eyelashes.

“How are you doing with all of this?” She’s so gentle when she asks, taking a completely different tone than just a moment before. There’s no hesitation here, just sincerity and care; they’re friends after all, and Brian knows if he wanted everything to stop here, if he wanted to step away and leave Roger and Ash to their own devices, he could without question.

“Doing great, actually,” he assured, and Ash visibly relaxed, leaning off her hands so they could join his on her thighs. She echoes his words back at him, confirming, just a little bit teasing, and Brian feels the tension leave him as he just laughs and leans in to kiss her, but she grins.

“And I could tell you liked my outfit,” and she closed the gap between them before he can answer, though the way his hands slide to her ass is enough of a confirmation for her.

It starts soft, her lips gentle against his, but then Brian deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding and insistent against her lips as he pulls her closer to him, and her fingers fumble with the chunky, plastic buttons of his jacket. There’s a deliberation that comes with every move Brian makes, an uncertainty, like he’s still trying to keep that professionalism between them for even a few more moments. The moment the jacket’s unbuttoned, Ash’s hands move across his chest, to his shoulders and sliding the jacket down his arms. It takes only a second to shrug out of the jacket and for Brian to have his hands on her hips, holding firm, and her arms now around his neck.

“Glad to see you’re warming up to the idea,” Roger sounds amused from the door, and Ash has to take a moment to lean back and laugh, and even Brian’s grinning, a little flushed.

“He was wondering why him.” Ash filled in with a grin, leaning around Brian to pass Roger his beer.

“DId you tell him it’s because I’ve already seen him naked?” Roger asks it like it’s answer enough, and Brian stepped back, turning red at his words, spluttering protests as Ash just laughed harder. “You keep leaving your towel in your room when you shower! It happened enough times that I-”

“Yeah, alright,” An embarrassed flush rising on his cheeks, watching as Roger takes his place, stepping into Ash’s space.

“Come on, let’s move this somewhere less kitchen,” he suggested, and Ash grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he wrapped an arm around her to help pull her off the counter and onto her feet, his other hand still holding his drink.

They drink on the sofa, well Brian and Roger do, Ash claims she’s had enough and settles for taking off her boots and putting her feet up. It does a world of good, putting them all at ease that is; they talk about Halloween and about Roger’s awful costume, and Brian careful does not say that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of those fucking red shorts Ash is still wearing, but he’s got his hand on her thigh, high on her thigh, as they’re laughing and talking and it feels... good.

And when the drinks are finished and the conversation dies down and Brian moves his hand higher, brushing against her through the leather of her shorts, Ash lets out a pleased sigh, shifting her hips before she makes a face.

“I will need some help out of these pants,” she admits. There’s a beat, both Brian and Roger frown at her questioningly, “like yes in the usual ‘undress me’ way, but also,” and she laughs a little self consciously, “they’re really hard to get into and watching me struggle alone to get them off isn’t exactly the hottest thing in the world, I’d imagine.”

“Here?” Roger asks. “We can’t exactly fit three people on the couch, who’s bedroom do we go to?” And with that one question, Brian felt himself filled with hesitation again.

“We can’t even fit two people on here.” Ash is thoughtful as she takes a moment to consider.

“We can, but it gave you a back ache last time.” Roger reminds her, and Ash snorts at the memory, getting to her feet.

“Guys, gross, I sit here, use some discretion would you?” Brian sighed.

“Alright, you’re not allowed to call any of our sex stuff gross tonight,” Roger argued, turning on Brian with raised eyebrows. Ash had already taken off in the direction of Brian’s bedroom.

“I’ll call it gross if I want to because it is gross; it’s where I eat.”

“Well I eat in bed sometimes that doesn’t mean-”

“Roger’s bed is bigger.” Ash calls from the doorframe to his bedroom, interrupting them both. They turn to her, still frowning a little, but as she watches them both, she untucks her singlet from her shorts and pulls it off in one fluid move, tossing the shirt to the side, bra-less and only wearing those damn shorts. “And for the record Brian,” she smirks, gaze flitting to the couch, before she looks back at him. A pause follows, and Ash looks like she’s reconsidering what she was about to say as she turns pink, bursting out with laughter, “no, I can’t say it, I still want to fuck you; if I say it, it’ll just made you mad.”

“Something about eating out?” Roger asks with a cocky grin, and Ash nods, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

“You two deserve each other, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Brian sighs, but he’s grinning, blushing a little at the thought, and the sound of both of them laughing is light and bright and it lifts the awkwardness as they make their way to Roger’s room.

Roger’s the first in there, Brian hanging back just a little, and when he gets there, he catches the end of Roger’s ‘- great, how about you?’

“Yeah, great sounds about right.” She agrees, standing at the edge of the bed so she can pull off his shirt, and Roger peppers kisses to her bare chest now that it’s at the perfect height, and there’s something endearing about the fact that she’s still not taller than Brian like that.

“Oi, voyeur, pervert, whatever you wanna call yourself,” there’s no malice in her words as she looks over to Brian, grinning sharply as she cards a hand through Roger’s hair where he’s got one of her nipples in his mouth, “either that damn rented suit goes, or you do.” She beckons him over, and Brian can’t help but roll his eyes with a smile.

“You’re consistent, you know that? You’re very consistent.” And he’s fumbling with the buttons of the shirt as he crosses to the bed in quick strides, far more confident this time when he kisses her. It’s easier, she’s almost his height, and she’s grinning against him, working to untie his bowtie before it comes loose. The next moment she gasping, hands fisting in the fabric of his now unbuttoned shirt.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she breathes, grinning and a little flustered as Roger presses a kiss to the bite mark he’d left on her boob, “hey- oi-” firmer this time, she moves back, gently shoving them away, stepping back to look between them, “I feel under-dressed,” she laughs, though there’s a surprising note of honesty in her words, and even in the relative darkness, Brian can see the tense set of her shoulders, can hear the bed creaking, giving away the way her weight is shifting from one foot to the other.

“Are you- Ash are you alright with this?” He asks, voice gentle as Roger reaches out to rest a reassuring hand on her hip. Ash just laughs, loud and dismissive and completely fake.

“Of course, have you met me?” She doesn’t even seem convinced, and it takes only a beat for her to sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want it to be good for you guys so it’s not weird.”

“It’s going to be weird for like two days anyways,” Roger shrugged, pulling his shirt and tossing it to the side, “sometimes friends shag, it’s not a big deal.” After a beat he added, “but if you don’t want to-”

“No, that’s the thing, I really want to,” she half laughs at her own enthusiasm, before dropping her gaze, voice getting a little softer, “I’ve just never really done this before, and, well, um-” she pauses for a moment, face turning scarlet, though they don’t notice, as her gaze flicks to Brian for the barest moment, “how do I put this? Like, physically... I’m little.” It’s Brian’s turn to blush and Roger chokes on a laugh. Ash is quick to backpedal, giggling a little herself at the implications, “I mean, everything’s going to- god this getting worse by the minute - I meant in terms of height, asshole!” She snorts, shoving Roger’s shoulder where he’s smirking at her.

“I mean, it’s never really been a problem for anyone else,” Brian pipes up finally after clearing his throat, and Ash lets out a tentative smile, “and it’s easier with a bed, too, so... there’s that.”

“There is that,” Ash agreed with a mischievous and renewed energy. There’s another flurry of movement, of her bouncing off the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Roger’s lips, she assures that she’ll be with him in a moment, and he smacks her on the ass before flopping himself onto the bed, already unzipping his pants with a lazy confidence.

Ash steps into Brian’s space; “you’re still overdressed.” But her hand is still when it comes to rest, palm flat, on his stomach just below his navel, her other hand hovering at the waistband of his pants by his hip. “We good?” She asks gently; her nails scrape against his belly and shiver runs down his spine.

“Great.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #brian may #brian may imagine #brian may x oc #roger taylor x oc x brian may #ash x roger x brian #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #ask your destiny to dance fic #the angry lizard writes

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ryqoshay · 6 years ago

Text

How to Handle a Nico: Whose Birthday is it Anyway?

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~3.3k Rating: T Time Frame: Early during Maki’s 2nd year and Nico’s 4th year in college Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday Maki!

“Arms out.” Kotori halted her happy humming to instruct the young woman she was measuring.

Maki obeyed quietly as the designer slid her tape around her bust and resumed her humming.

As Kotori jotted down the numbers, she couldn’t help but wonder about Nico’s reaction to them. Did the older girl know? Probably. Kotori recalled Nico mentioning how she helped Maki with laundry “only when Maki-chan spends too much time studying.” Of course, as Nico regularly labeled Maki as a study-oholic, that undoubtedly meant pretty much all the time.

As she continued to measure, ideas swirled through Kotori’s mind about the design possibilities. Maki had matured a lot since their days as school idols and the event in question called for a more formal style anyway. As such, the design would need to be less pop star and more classical orchestra. Less pastel pizazz and more timeless tones. Less half-time performance and more red carpet walking. Kotori decided she could still include some frills and ruffles, but she couldn’t help wondering how fully she could flair the skirt before Maki would complain.

If Maki would complain at all, that is. Kotori had seen a ballgown or two in her closet back at her parent’s house and the young heiress had mentioned the high society gatherings she had attended growing up. However, she had never spoken overly fondly of said events, certainly not with the enthusiasm reserved for her childhood piano recitals. But that was getting off track. Both were formal occasions that called for formal outfits.

“That it?” Maki’s question pulled Kotori away from her delightful design daydreams.

“Oh, uhm, I think so.” the design student double checked the numbers she had recorded. “Yes, that’s everything I need. Thanks again, Maki-chan.” She smiled at the redhead. “I used Umi-chan and Honoka-chan a lot last semester, so it’s good to work with someone new.”

“I see.” The med student nodded curtly. “I glad I could help.” That said, she turned and moved back toward her desk. “Let me know when you need me to try it on.”

“Will do.” Kotori quickly gathered her stuff and headed toward the door. “Have a good night, Maki-chan. Don’t study too hard.”

At that, Maki let out a light laugh. “Nico-chan won’t let me.” She turned back to the fawn-haired girl with a smile. “I’m due at her place in about an hour for dinner.”

“Wonderful.” Kotori returned a smile of her own before departing.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Kotori pulled out her phone.

LittleBirb: Phase One complete

NicoNii: Roger that

NicoNii: Shall we begin Phase Two tomorrow?

LittleBirb: I’m free after lunch

NicoNii: Great

NicoNii: See you then

NicoNii: Over and out

“And with that, Phase Two is complete.” Nico said, setting her purchases down on the table in Kotori’s living room. “Thanks again.” She turned to the other girl with a smile. “I can’t wait to get started.”

“I’m sorry, Nico-chan,” the designer student replied, “but if I let you help, it would ruin the surprise.”

“The surprise?” The part-time idol blinked. “Whose birthday is it, anyway?”

“Maki-chan’s.”

“Right. And I want to help ensure my gift to her is perfect.”

“Are you doubting Kotori’s ability?” Umi suddenly spoke up from the hallway.

“No, that’s not it…” Nico began to protest.

“Nico-chan.” Kotori spoke up. “I know what type of dress you will like on Maki-chan. After all, I used to use you as a gauge for her outfits in µ’s.”

“You… I… wha?” Nico fumbled.

“Your reactions were fairly obvious.” Umi clarified.

“They were?” Nico felt a bit of heat in her cheeks, but she cleared her throat and attempted to will it away. “I mean of course they were.” She then preened. “Nico’s feelings for Maki-chan have always shown brightly enough that anyone could see.”

“You were indeed quite shameless when it came to Maki.” Umi agreed with a nod.

“Shameless, perhaps…” The ash-haired girl pondered “but she was better at expressing her feelings than others…” She gave a sidelong glance toward her girlfriend.

“K-Kotori…” Pink dusted blue-haired girl’s cheeks as she averted her gaze.

“Maki-chan for example.” Kotori returned her attention to the older girl.

“Don’t I know it.” The raven-haired girl agreed with a dramatic sigh and a shake of her head.

“She was a lot harder to use as an indicator for your costumes.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“But I figured it out eventually.” Kotori smiled. “Anyway, Nico-chan, please leave the dress to me. I promise both you and Maki-chan will love it.”

“Alright.” Nico conceded, holding up her hands. “You win. I’ll let the master seamstress work her craft.”

“Do you want me to make one for you as well? So you can match?”

Nico shook her head. “Thanks, but I think we only have enough material for one. And with everything else I’m spending…” She smiled wistfully. “Not that it’s not worth it, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So, I’m borrowing a tux that’s being fitted for an upcoming photoshoot and they’ve have agreed to let me take it off-site for the day.” She paused before adding, “Had to be tactful with that request; wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, you know.”

“Mmm…” Kotori nodded, knowing what secret needed to be kept for the sake of Nico’s idol career. “A tux is a wonderful idea as well.”

“I know, right?” Nico grinned. “It’s Maki-chan’s day, so she should be the one standing out. Nico is willing to step out of the spotlight to let her amazing girlfriend have it… for one night.”

That earned a light laugh from Kotori.

“Do you think Maki suspects anything?” Umi inquired.

Nico turned to her with an incredulous look. “Suspects anything? Maki-chan? The same girl who studied herself sick and ended up forgetting her birthday last year?” She shook her head. “No, we’re good.”

From there conversation turned to other projects Kotori was working on and the college lives of all three young women. They continued to chat and catch up for the remainder of the afternoon.

Glancing at the clock, Maki was unable to hold back a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Maki-chan.” Kotori said, securing a clasp near the small of the other girl’s back. “This week just filled up so fast and today was the only day I could do this.”

“Mmm…” The med student hummed, trying vainly to hide her concern.

“I know you have plans with Nico-chan later, so to make it up to you, I can help you get ready; hair, makeup and whatnot.”

“Hmm…”

“So, how about we start with the hair?”

“Wha… now?”

“It will also add to the pictures and make them look more professional.” The design student explained with a gentle smile. “Trust me, I’ll make sure you look good for Nico-chan.”

“Alright.” Maki felt herself relax with the reassurance of her girlfriend’s approval.

With that, Kotori retrieved a brush from the dresser, motioned for the younger girl to sit and went to work on her hair. For her part, Maki found herself thinking about how different it was when Nico brushed her hair compared to, well, everyone else, herself included. She watched in the mirror as the older girl skillfully threaded some of her hair into a braid across the top of her head, a style her mother had used for her for quite a number of formal occasions.

“How does that look?” Kotori asked after several minutes.

Maki turned her head side to side to get a better view.

“Nico-chan will love it.”

“Yes, thank you.” Maki agreed.

“Next is makeup. Let’s see what you have...”

Kotori seemed to almost chirp happily to herself as she browsed the dorm room sized, but luxuriously labelled collection. She quickly made her selection and began application.

Once again, Maki watched in the mirror, her thoughts churning. The dress was really well made and a large part of her wanted Nico to see her wearing it. Certainly, Kotori would share whatever pictures she took with the rest of the group, but it wasn’t quite the same as in person.

Maki had always been aware that she was attractive, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t take some pride in it. But it hadn’t been until recently that she’d really cared all that much about how any one specific person looked at her. Memories of Nico’s reaction to the outfit she had worn for their first date were still fresh in her mind and she looked forward to seeing something similar tonight.

And that thought caused a bit of a conundrum. Maki had gone back to her parents’ house and spent half a day picking out something she knew Nico would love. And as it was from a high-end brand, its quality was almost unmatched. Almost. The masterpiece she was wearing now managed a tier above, possibly two. If only…

“Perfect.” Kotori said, stepping away. “You look wonderful, Maki-chan.” She clasped her hands together and smiled. “And now for a few pictures.”

Maki nodded quietly and stood, ready for instructions on poses.

Kotori pulled out her phone and tapped a few times before holding it up. “Just like that is fine.” She said, taking the first shot.

Maki startled as a knock sounded at the door. Who the heck could that be? Maybe her RA needed something?

“Just a moment.” Maki called. “Sorry, Kotori.” She offered moving to the entry.

“Happy Birthday, Maki-chan!” a voice cried as soon as the door opened.

“Bwueeh?” The redhead stepped back. “Nico-chan?”

As the named raven-haired girl grinned and entered the room, Maki couldn’t take her eyes off her. The older girl was clad in a sharp tuxedo. It wasn’t quite as flashy or frilly as those she had worn for more idol related purposes, but it was well-tailored and fit her perfectly. Though most surprising was the utter lack of pink, not even with something as small as the clip on her simple, low ponytail. Maki was about to make another visual pass to be certain when she realized Nico was making her own of her.

For Nico’s part, a voice in the back of her head attempted to tell her not to stare to the point of making Maki self-conscious, but she couldn’t help it. Kotori hadn’t been lying when she said she knew what Nico liked and her gaze kept sliding into the sections the seamstress had shrewdly omitted, particularly from the bust up. A younger Nico would have undoubtedly been jealous, or even Nico of a few months ago. But present Nico simply stood in awe of her gorgeous girlfriend.

“W-Why are you here?” Maki was the first to find her voice again.

Nico opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She snapped it shut and put on a pout in an attempt to deflect from her speechlessness. “Is that anyway to greet your girlfriend?” She finally managed to get out.

“But you’re early.” The younger girl glanced at the clock on her desk. “Really early. I haven’t even started getting ready yet.”

“You look amazing…” Nico cleared her throat “amazingly ready already. And amazing. Too.”

Despite the awkwardness of it, pink still dusted Maki’s cheeks at the compliment. “Thanks, but, uhm…” She tilted her head toward the other girl in the room. “This dress isn’t mine, it’s Kotori’s, for one of her classes.”

“You sure about that?” The part-time idol inquired, slipping into teasing mode.

“Uhm, yeah.” The med student turned to the designer with a questioning expression. “Kotori?”

“Happy birthday, Maki-chan.” Was all of Kotori’s cheerful reply.

“W-what the heck?” Maki could only fall back on a habitual phrase as she returned her attention to her girlfriend.

“The dress is yours.” Nico clarified.

“I… I don’t get it.” Maki’s mind spun through everything she’d gone through to supposedly help Kotori with the apparently fabricated class assignment.

“I don’t get it.” Nico mimicked the younger girl. “What’s not to get? The dress is Nico’s birthday gift to her beloved Maki-chan. And Kotori was kind enough to help me; a lot.” She smiled at the ash-haired girl. “Amazing work, as always. I owe you big for this.”

“It was my pleasure.” Kotori assured. “We can call it my gift to Maki-chan this year. And Umi’s, as she helped as well. So now the rest is up to you. Have fun you two.” With that, she excused herself.

As soon as the door closed, Maki took two long strides and pulled Nico into a hug. “Thank you.” She said. “It’s perfect. I love it. But…” she pulled away “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Nico snorted. “What, and ruin the surprise?”

“But…”

“Honestly, it was a surprise for me as well.”

“Huh?”

“Kotori wouldn’t let me help with making this.” Nico shrugged. “Nico was only allowed to help with picking out the material. And I’ll have to tell you about the amazing deals we found later.”

“Maybe over dinner?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Nico stepped away to admire her girlfriend’s attire once more. “You know, with such nice wrapping, it’s almost like Maki-chan is a gift for Nico’s birthday.”

“That’s a horrible pickup line…” Maki muttered, despite blushing.

“Can’t wait to unwrap it.”

Maki closed her eyes and shook her head as the red spread. “Idiot.” She sighed.

“You love it.”

“Maybe.”

“Anyway, we should probably get going.”

“Oh? But I thought…”

“There’s been a slight adjustment to our itinerary today.” Nico grinned as she pulled what looked like two tickets from her jacket and held them out for the other girl to see.

Maki’s eyes widened with surprise. “Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra?” She read aloud.

“Sound like a good detour before dinner?”

“Definitely.” Maki nodded enthusiastically. “But,” she leaned in for closer inspection “these seats…”

“Nico is already making use of her connections in the industry!” The older girl proclaimed proudly.

“So you called in a favor… for me?”

“Pretty much.” Nico confirmed. “Completely worth it and I look forward to doing it again soon.”

“Thank you.”

“So, shall we?” Nico offered her arm.

“Alright.”

“So, how did you know when to show up at my dorm?” Maki suddenly asked.

“Kotori messaged me on LINE.”

Maki thought back for a moment. “You mean she wasn’t taking pictures?”

“Oh, she did.” Nico confirmed. “Even if your dress isn’t an actual assignment for a class, she can still use it in her portfolio for when she starts applying for jobs and such.”

“I see.”

The couple had left the concert hall and Maki had spent the entire train ride diligently dissecting the performance, from first bassoon to the third trombone and from Chopin to Weber. Nico was able to get a few words in, but mostly just encouraged her girlfriend’s delighted dissertation. Eventually, as they neared the restaurant, the topics had shifted.

“<Ah, good evening, Mademoiselle Nishikino, Mademoiselle Yazawa.>” A well-dressed man greeted in French as the two young women entered. “<Welcome.>”

Maki blinked as though not anticipating being recognized. “Monsier Leclercq?” She glanced around briefly. “Is this…?”

“Indeed.” Leclercq confirmed, switching to Japanese. Then, with a proud grin, he made a grand sweeping motion with his arm. “La Table Rouge is open for business!”

“Congratulations.” Maki said with a warm smile.

“I could not have done all this without the generous investments of the Nishikino family.”

“I know my parents were happy to help. And we all look forward to seeing you succeed with this place.”

“Thank you. You know,” he turned to Nico “I thought I recognized the name of Yazawa Nico on the guest list. My daughter was a fan of µ’s and remains a fan of yours today. As such, I was curious whom you might be bringing with you, which is why I am here to greet you. I am pleased to learn you are still associated with Mademoiselle Nishikino.”

“I’m bringing her here for her birthday.” Nico explained.

“That is today, is it not? Happy birthday.” Leclercq bowed to Maki. “Now please, allow me to show you to you table.”

“So you’ve been here before?” Nico asked of Maki as they walked through the restaurant. “And here Nico was hoping she could bring Maki-chan somewhere new to her.”

“I haven’t been here yet.” Maki assured. “They just opened last week and Mama and Papa have been too busy for us to come by.”

“Nonetheless, you are here now.” Leclercq said as they reached the table. “And it is our honor to serve you tonight. I shall send the sommelier over with some of our finest recommendations. We have a superb selection from a connection I have in Château Latour.”

Nico tried to mask her reaction as she recognized the name from the research on wine she had done in preparation for this event. Unfortunately, both Maki and Leclercq saw her slight flinch.

“Thank you for the recommendation.” Maki replied.

“I insist. Only the best for the Nishikinos and their associates.” Leclercq stated turning to Nico. “I regret to inform you, Mademoiselle Yazawa, that your money is no good here.”

“My money…?” Nico mumbled dumbly as her mind fumbled through processing what she had just been told.

“However, if you insist on payment, I would humbly accept an autograph addressed to my daughter.” He glanced elsewhere. “Ah, my attention is needed in the kitchen. I shall check back with you two later to ensure all is well, and I shall be bringing something to sign. Please enjoy all we have to offer.” With that, he bowed and made his departure.

Nico chewed her lip, wondering if she should be elated instead of concerned.

“A meal for an autograph. That’s about as good a bargain as one can find, right?” Maki offered, attempting to appeal to her girlfriend’s inner deal hunter.

“Yeah…”

“But…?”

Nico had been happy to talk about the bargain she had found on the dress material, so Maki found herself a bit confused about her girlfriend’s current mood.

Nico shook her head. “I’m sorry, Maki-chan, it’s nothing.” She smiled, though it was obviously forced.

Maki furrowed her brow before reaching forward to place her hand over Nico’s.

“Maki-chan?”

“What’s wrong?”

Nico held her girlfriend’s gaze for a moment before sighing. “I dunno… It’s just… Kotori made that dress. I was given the tickets. And now…”

“You’re using your connections.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You said it yourself. You used your connections in the industry to obtain orchestra tickets.” Maki explained. “Those were premium seats that are generally hard to come by, but you were able to get them. And you used your connections with Kotori to have this amazing, one-of-a-kind dress made for me. And finally, here we are, about to enjoy a wonderful meal together, all because of your connections.”

“My connection to you for that last one.”

“Still a connection.” Maki said with a smile as she squeezed Nico’s hand. “And I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me today. I can’t imagine a better way to spend my birthday than with you, Nico-chan.”

Finally, Nico smiled as well, genuinely this time. “You’re right, Maki-chan. This has been a good day. A really good day.” She chuckled. “But honestly, with everything I’ve received today, I still can’t help but wonder if it isn’t actually my birthday.”

“I believe it was you who once told me that there is nothing wrong with the giver enjoying a gift as much as the receiver.”

“And Nozomi was the one who told me.”

“That much is normal, right?” Maki laughed.

“True.”

Whatever Maki was about to add was interrupted by the sommelier arriving at the table. Wine selections were made with helpful suggestions from the woman. Once she left, conversation resumed as the couple focused on the events of the day and enjoying each other’s company.

Author’s Notes continued in Followup Post.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #How to Handle a Nico #Love Live #fanfic #Happy Birthday Maki

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