#yes I did in fact just have 7 music note crystals laying around to get their mastery ranks. strangly lucky and unlucky all at the same time

[collarful-clover]

Good luck 2 everyone pulling !!!!! This pile of freaks cost me nearly all of my savings (60k of 67k I worked hard to get for this event). All in the name of playing dress up

[artificialqueens]

If you care to find me (Jan/Jackie) - Rune

Hello! I’m a first time submitter, long time fan. Y’all can call me Rune. I desperately wanted to write for Jan and Jackie because they’re two of my faves from this season, and thus a college-lesbian-AU was born. Comments and concrit are always welcome and I’m open to requests either here or on my blog at @runic-riptide Hope y’all enjoy!

The party was in full swing by the time Jackie arrived. She could see a few other people from the theatre department, but overall she didn’t recognize many of the people crowded into the sorority house. The Kappa Lambda Mu sorority was all fashion majors and a few of them had made the costumes for the theatre department’s performance of Wicked. That led into the current raging after party for the closing night of the show.

Jackie thought it had gone really well, they’d gotten a standing ovation at the end and thankfully none of the sound equipment had fucked up during the show. As the main sound tech, that had been her biggest worry for weeks. But now it was over and she could enjoy the party.

“Jackieeeeee!” a heavily accented voice called over the music. Jackie was blindsided by a mess of giggling French girl, as Nicky plowed into her side, the Red solo cup in her hand splashing something that smelled overwhelmingly of coconut rum onto the carpet. “You made it!”

Jackie reached out to steady Nicky; how was she still standing in those heels? “Yeah, I couldn’t miss it!”

“Come, we’ll get you a drink! Crystal is mixing and everything tastes wonderful!” Nicky shouted over the din. She took Jackie by the wrist and began leading her through the throng of people towards the kitchen. Jackie waved at Gigi and Heidi, both girls camped out by the snack table that was set up in the living room as she was pulled.

The kitchen had less people but not by much. There was a small cluster of people crowded around the makeshift bar on the island and Crystal was standing on the backside shaking a tumbler full of what looked like UV Blue and edible glitter.

“Miss Methyd! We have a theatre nerd in need of a drink! S’il vous plait!” Nicky hollered. Crystal nodded and dumped the blue mixture into another red Solo cup, handing this one off to an already tipsy looking Brita.

Crystal grinned at Jackie, her makeup already smudged a bit, “What can I getcha, Miss Cox?”

“Um, something fruity? With not too much alcohol?” Jackie replied. She could handle her liquor, but preferred staying sober in large groups. “Thanks!”

“Coming right up!” Crystal smiled and began pouring lemon vodka and Sprite into a fresh tumbler. She shook it lightly and poured the mix into a cup before adding a dash of Apple Pucker and a lime wedge. “Here you go! It’s a Sour Clown! A Crystal Methyd original.”

Jackie thanked her again and took a small sip. It didn’t have much of an alcohol taste and she was grateful.

“Come on, Miss Cox! Let’s go find your people!” Nicky said as she finished pouring more coconut rum into her cup. She took the wrist not supporting a cup and Jackie was pulled back into the main party.

Gigi and Heidi were still by the snacks, Brita was attempting to twerk on the makeshift dance floor, and Aiden and Jaida were standing nearby, badly hiding matching grins behind their own cups. Jackie scanned the crowded room and had to stifle a brief flash of disappointment, as the girl she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the throng of bodies.

Nicky pulled her down onto the cushy couch pushed against the far wall and promptly stretched out, kicking off her heels and laying stockinged feet in Jackie’s lap. Jackie grinned at the younger girl, only Nicky could be so comfortable with someone she’d barely known two months.

“So, tell me Miss Cox, Miss Cox if you’re nasty, tell me…what is up with you and the cheerleader.” Nicky grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Jackie could feel heat creep up her neck and hoped the lights were dim enough to hide the blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she mumbled into her cup.

“Ne ment jamais a une fille francaise, mon petite. It’s unbecoming.”

“Nicky, you know I don’t speak French.” Jackie groaned. Apparently, they really were having this conversation.

“Never lie to a French girl. We can smell bullshit from a kilometer away.” Nicky translated, grinning smugly.

“There’s nothing between me and-and Jan. Nothing.” Jackie argued, plucking at the runs in Nicky’s tights.

“Please, Jackie, I have known you for what? Two months? Two and a half? It is painfully obvious that you like the cheerleader.” Nicky retorted, taking another sip. “Remember? You slipped and cut the music during the first dress rehearsal when she came out as Elphaba? Everyone turned to look and you turned as red as the skirt you were wearing that day.”

“You remember what skirt I was wearing?” Jackie giggled.

“Of course! Dear Gigi made it for you, said your others were…? Ah, de matrone? Motherly? Matronly!” Nicky yelled, finally finding the right word.

“My other skirts are not matronly! Gigi just likes short skirts.” Jackie argued, slightly offended.

“Yes, they are, dear. Every other skirt you own looks like you got them at a librarian’s estate sale.” Gigi chimed in, taking the seat next to Jackie and tickling the bottom of Nicky’s foot. Nicky shrieked and kicked, nearly upending Jackie’s drink all over her.

“Arrete ca! Devil child! The audacity of you!” Nicky cried, scrambling to sit up straight.

“So what’s the tea? What’s the dish?” Gigi said, ignoring Nicky’s remarks.

“Jackie is refusing to acknowledge that something’s up with her and the cheerleader. You know, the one. Elphaba?” Nicky replied, outrage at Gigi forgotten in favor of gossip.

“Ahhhh, yes. Jan, Miss Jan Sport. Theatre major extraordinaire and cheerleader 24/7.” Gigi grinned at Jackie. “There is definitely something up.”

“There is nothing! I swear!” Jackie complained. She grabbed Nicky’s cup from her. “I am not nearly drunk enough to be talking about this.”

Jackie took a large gulp and tried not to cough as the rum burned down her throat. She really did not want to talk about this. She’d done four productions with Jan and every time Jan was the only one she’d noticed during the shows. She was… captivating. Her vocals were astounding, nearly the entire department was jealous of her ability to belt high notes like they were nothing. And during the dry runs, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, brown eyes lit up with love for her craft. Her passion was enthralling and Jackie fell a little bit more in love with her every performance. Not that she’d ever tell Jan any of this, being a behind the scenes kind of girl. The only interactions they’d had were when Jackie needed to set up her mic. But the brilliant smile she got from Jan was worth the limited moments she got to spend with the other girl.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Jackie.” Gigi snorted. “You look at her like she hung the moon and it’s obvious to everyone but Jan, apparently.”

“Good, I’d prefer if it stayed that way. She barely knows I exist anyway. I’m just a sound tech, as long as she sounds good, that’s all she needs to know about me.” Jackie replied.

“And you’re just as oblivious, dear.” Nicki continued as if Jackie hadn’t spoken. “We all see the way she looks at you as well.”

“Looks at me? Jan doesn’t look at me. I think you’ve spent one too many nights staring too hard at your sewing machine, Nicky. You must be going blind.”

“Oh, she looks at you alright.” Gigi smirked. “In fact, she’s looking at you right now.”

Jackie started and nearly dropped her stolen drink. It took a good amount of her willpower not to start looking around for the other girl. “Ha ha, Gigi, very funny.”

“Oh, it is no joke, mon petite. Jan’s by the entryway to the kitchen, staring at you like she’d rather have something other than liquor on her lips.” Nicky grinned smugly.

Jackie swiftly cast her eyes to the kitchen, trying not to move her head too much. Gigi and Nicky were right. Jan was standing there, staring directly at her. She looked gorgeous. No remnants of the green makeup remained and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, tendrils curling over shoulders bared by a sleeveless black dress. Jackie’s cheeks burned as Jan smiled, noticing Jackie staring back. Jackie swiftly lowered her gaze, taking another large drink of rum.

“Well? Go over there! She obviously wants you to!” Gigi encouraged.

Jackie shook her head. “She could be looking at you or at Nicky. I’m telling you, there’s nothing about me to stare at.”

“Un autre mensonge, mon petite. There is plenty about you to stare at. If you weren’t so devoted to your international studies, I’d have snatched you to model for me already. Those legs, that neck, the dignity with which you hold yourself. I’d have the best model in Kappa Lambda Mu, if you wore my clothes.” Nicky countered, not sounding nearly as drunk as she looked.

“I agree.” Gigi continued. “You have a lovely face and your body would look wonderful draped in silks.”

“Now who’s lying, ladies?” Jackie replied, nervously.

“You. I thought that was what we were talking about, non?” Nicky asked Gigi.

Jackie went to take another drink and found her cup empty. She was already buzzed, the alcohol thrumming pleasantly under her skin. But she wouldn’t risk having to pass Jan to get back to the kitchen for another. She stood and sat the empty cup on the coffee table. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Air?” Gigi teased. “Looks like you’re thirsty to me, Miss Cox.”

Jackie shook her head and made for the front door. More people had arrived and she was bumped several times on her way outside. Finally, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, leaning back against it and sucking in a large breath of cool spring air. She moved to sit in one of the several papasan chairs dotting the porch and removed the light hoodie she’d been wearing. The breeze felt wonderful on her heated neck and Jackie closed her eyes, inhaling. She sat for a few minutes like that, letting the breeze wash over her as the dull thud of bass thudded against the inner walls of the house. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that the fairy lights strung up along the porch had come on and smiled at the whimsical twinkling. She could leave right now, she’d Ubered here, so she could call another. She could put tonight and Nicky and Gigi’s words behind her, not having to worry about seeing Jan again until the fall production. But her legs felt tingly and the breeze was so nice. She could spare a few more moments before pulling out her phone. Her eyes slipped shut again, just as she heard the music quickly rise and fall in volume and the front door shut.

Jackie opened her eyes and was caught in the stare of another pair of brown eyes gazing back at her. Her throat closed and the breeze suddenly felt frigid on her exposed skin. Jan was standing there, staring back at her, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the faint music. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Jackie croaked. She swallowed and tried again. “No, just needed some air.”

Jan nodded and gestured at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit? It’s boiling in there.”

“Sure,” Jackie replied. “It is pretty packed.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“It was nice of the Kappas to throw this for us. We worked hard on the show.” Jan commented as she sat down. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to Jackie and she could smell lavender and cedar.

“You guys did all the work. Long nights rehearsing and all. And performing for all those people.” Jackie shrugged, shaking her head to rid her nose of the smell.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. We didn’t have hardly any mishaps with the sound this show and none at all on opening or closing night. I don’t know much about the sound aspect, but that couldn’t have been easy.” Jan smiled.

Jackie laughed, “It’s just a bunch of button pressing, really. Not hard at all.”

Jan shrugged, “You’d know better than I do, but I still think you did an amazing job. You always make sure everything works as best as you can.”

Jackie blinked, stunned. “There are plenty of techs who do what I do.”

“Yeah, but none of them ever get my mic set up right. You get it right every time. From day one. When we did Rent?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I was so convinced I’d spend the entire run through majorly uncomfortable because the mic set up was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised when everything felt fine. I asked the production techs about you and requested you ever since.” Jan smiled, curling her long legs up into the chair.

“Wow, uh, thank you? Glad I could help?” Jackie laughed. Her blush was back in full force and she wished the fairy lights were red or pink so she could blame it on them. “You were amazing in Rent, by the way. Your Maureen was awesome. I’d hoped you would keep performing.”

Jan’s eyes lit up, “Thank you. I love theatre and singing, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Jackie couldn’t think of anything else to say and the conversation tapered off. Jan was still looking at her though, fairy lights reflecting in her brown eyes. Nervous at the scrutiny, Jackie dipped her head, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Gentle hands moved her head back up and tilted her face towards Jan. The younger girl leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to Jackie’s. They were only there for a second, but Jackie’s breath hitched at the light pressure. “Yeah, you did. Me.”

Jackie swallowed and reflexively swiped her tongue along her bottom lip. She could taste honey and hoped it was from Jan’s lip chap. “Uh. What. What was that for?”

Now Jan sported a blush and finally dropped her gaze. “I thought- It was stupid, I just thought that maybe you, uh, liked me? But I was wrong, I’m so sorry, I’m not usually so forward-”

Jackie cut her off by kissing her again. She felt Jan gasp, and her eyes slipped close as Jan’s lips began moving against her own. Jan did taste like honey and Jackie thought it was the sweetest thing she’d tasted all night. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and eventually Jackie was forced to pull away, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air. She could feel that her face was flushed and saw a matching one across Jan’s.

“You weren’t. Wrong that is. I’ve, uh, liked you since Rent. I just thought that you wouldn’t notice me, me being behind the scenes and all.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” Jan replied, grinning wide. “Would you want to get coffee tomorrow? With me?”

Jackie grinned to match, “Yes. Yes, it’s a date?”

“Yeah, a date.” Jan moved closer to Jackie. “But I’d really like to keep kissing you now. You taste like coconut rum and it’s my favorite.”

Jackie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Jan’s once more. It looked like she’d have to thank Nicky for the stolen drink tomorrow. After her date.

[runic-riptide]

if you care to find me (janxjackie)

The party was in full swing by the time Jackie arrived. She could see a few other people from the theatre department, but overall she didn’t recognize many of the people crowded into the sorority house. The Kappa Lambda Mu sorority was all fashion majors and a few of them had made the costumes for the theatre department’s performance of Wicked. That led into the current raging after party for the closing night of the show. 

Jackie thought it had gone really well, they’d gotten a standing ovation at the end and thankfully none of the sound equipment had fucked up during the show. As the main sound tech, that had been her biggest worry for weeks. But now it was over and she could enjoy the party.

“Jackieeeeee!” a heavily accented voice called over the music. Jackie was blindsided by a mess of giggling French girl, as Nicky plowed into her side, the Red solo cup in her hand splashing something that smelled overwhelmingly of coconut rum onto the carpet. “You made it!”

Jackie reached out to steady Nicky; how was she still standing in those heels? “Yeah, I couldn’t miss it!”

“Come, we’ll get you a drink! Crystal is mixing and everything tastes wonderful!” Nicky shouted over the din. She took Jackie by the wrist and began leading her through the throng of people towards the kitchen. Jackie waved at Gigi and Heidi, both girls camped out by the snack table that was set up in the living room as she was pulled.

The kitchen had less people but not by much. There was a small cluster of people crowded around the makeshift bar on the island and Crystal was standing on the backside shaking a tumblr full of what looked like UV Blue and edible glitter.

“Miss Methyd! We have a theatre nerd in need of a drink! S’il vous plait!” Nicky hollered. Crystal nodded and dumped the blue mixture into another red Solo cup, handing this one off to an already tipsy looking Brita.

Crystal grinned at Jackie, her makeup already smudged a bit, “What can I getcha, Miss Cox?”

“Um, something fruity? With not too much alcohol?” Jackie replied. She could handle her liquor, but preferred staying sober in large groups. “Thanks!”

“Coming right up!” Crystal smiled and began pouring lemon vodka and Sprite into a fresh tumbler. She shook it lightly and poured the mix into a cup before adding a dash of Apple Pucker and a lime wedge. “Here you go! It’s a Sour Clown! A Crystal Methyd original.”

Jackie thanked her again and took a small sip. It didn’t have much of an alcohol taste and she was grateful.

“Come on, Miss Cox! Let’s go find your people!” Nicky said as she finished pouring more coconut rum into her cup. She took the wrist not supporting a cup and Jackie was pulled back into the main party.

Gigi and Heidi were still by the snacks, Brita was attempting to twerk on the makeshift dance floor, and Aiden and Jaida were standing nearby, badly hiding matching grins behind their own cups. Jackie scanned the crowded room and had to stifle a brief flash of disappointment, as the girl she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the throng of bodies.

Nicky pulled her down onto the cushy couch pushed against the far wall and promptly stretched out, kicking off her heels and laying stockinged feet in Jackie’s lap. Jackie grinned at the younger girl, only Nicky could be so comfortable with someone she’d barely known two months.

“So, tell me Miss Cox, Miss Cox if you’re nasty, tell me...what is up with you and the cheerleader.” Nicky grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Jackie could feel heat creep up her neck and hoped the lights were dim enough to hide the blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she mumbled into her cup.

“Ne ment jamais a une fille francaise, mon petite. It’s unbecoming.” 

“Nicky, you know I don’t speak French.” Jackie groaned. Apparently, they really were having this conversation.

“Never lie to a French girl. We can smell bullshit from a kilometer away.” Nicky translated, grinning smugly.

“There’s nothing between me and-and Jan. Nothing.” Jackie argued, plucking at the runs in Nicky’s tights.

“Please, Jackie, I have known you for what? Two months? Two and a half? It is painfully obvious that you like the cheerleader.” Nicky retorted, taking another sip. “Remember? You slipped and cut the music during the first dress rehearsal when she came out as Elphaba? Everyone turned to look and you turned as red as the skirt you were wearing that day.”

“You remember what skirt I was wearing?” Jackie giggled.

“Of course! Dear Gigi made it for you, said your others were…? Ah, de matrone? Motherly? Matronly!” Nicky yelled, finally finding the right word.

“My other skirts are not matronly! Gigi just likes short skirts.” Jackie argued, slightly offended.

“Yes, they are, dear. Every other skirt you own looks like you got them at a librarian’s estate sale.” Gigi chimed in, taking the seat next to Jackie and tickling the bottom of Nicky’s foot. Nicky shrieked and kicked, nearly upending Jackie’s drink all over her.

“Arrete ca! Devil child! The audacity of you!” Nicky cried, scrambling to sit up straight. 

“So what’s the tea? What’s the dish?” Gigi said, ignoring Nicky’s remarks.

“Jackie is refusing to acknowledge that something’s up with her and the cheerleader. You know, the one. Elphaba?” Nicky replied, outrage at Gigi forgotten in favor of gossip.

“Ahhhh, yes. Jan, Miss Jan Sport. Theatre major extraordinaire and cheerleader 24/7.” Gigi grinned at Jackie. “There is definitely something up.”

“There is nothing! I swear!” Jackie complained. She grabbed Nicky’s cup from her. “I am not nearly drunk enough to be talking about this.”

Jackie took a large gulp and tried not to cough as the rum burned down her throat. She really did not want to talk about this. She’d done four productions with Jan and every time Jan was the only one she’d noticed during the shows. She was… captivating. Her vocals were astounding, nearly the entire department was jealous of her ability to belt high notes like they were nothing. And during the dry runs, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, brown eyes lit up with love for her craft. Her passion was enthralling and Jackie fell a little bit more in love with her every performance. Not that she’d ever tell Jan any of this, being a behind the scenes kind of girl. The only interactions they’d had were when Jackie needed to set up her mic. But the brilliant smile she got from Jan was worth the limited moments she got to spend with the other girl.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Jackie.” Gigi snorted. “You look at her like she hung the moon and it’s obvious to everyone but Jan, apparently.” 

“Good, I’d prefer if it stayed that way. She barely knows I exist anyway. I’m just a sound tech, as long as she sounds good, that’s all she needs to know about me.” Jackie replied.

“And you’re just as oblivious, dear.” Nicki continued as if Jackie hadn’t spoken. “We all see the way she looks at you as well.”

“Looks at me? Jan doesn’t look at me. I think you’ve spent one too many nights staring too hard at your sewing machine, Nicky. You must be going blind.”

“Oh, she looks at you alright.” Gigi smirked. “In fact, she’s looking at you right now.”

Jackie started and nearly dropped her stolen drink. It took a good amount of her willpower not to start looking around for the other girl. “Ha ha, Gigi, very funny.”

“Oh, it is no joke, mon petite. Jan’s by the entryway to the kitchen, staring at you like she’d rather have something other than liquor on her lips.” Nicky grinned smugly.

Jackie swiftly cast her eyes to the kitchen, trying not to move her head too much. Gigi and Nicky were right. Jan was standing there, staring directly at her. She looked gorgeous. No remnants of the green makeup remained and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, tendrils curling over shoulders bared by a sleeveless black dress. Jackie’s cheeks burned as Jan smiled, noticing Jackie staring back. Jackie swiftly lowered her gaze, taking another large drink of rum.

“Well? Go over there! She obviously wants you to!” Gigi encouraged.

Jackie shook her head. “She could be looking at you or at Nicky. I’m telling you, there’s nothing about me to stare at.”

“Un autre mensonge, mon petite. There is plenty about you to stare at. If you weren’t so devoted to your international studies, I’d have snatched you to model for me already. Those legs, that neck, the dignity with which you hold yourself. I’d have the best model in Kappa Lambda Mu, if you wore my clothes.” Nicky countered, not sounding nearly as drunk as she looked.

“I agree.” Gigi continued. “You have a lovely face and your body would look wonderful draped in silks.”

“Now who’s lying, ladies?” Jackie replied, nervously. 

“You. I thought that was what we were talking about, non?” Nicky asked Gigi.

Jackie went to take another drink and found her cup empty. She was already buzzed, the alcohol thrumming pleasantly under her skin. But she wouldn’t risk having to pass Jan to get back to the kitchen for another. She stood and sat the empty cup on the coffee table. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Air?” Gigi teased. “Looks like you’re thirsty to me, Miss Cox.”

Jackie shook her head and made for the front door. More people had arrived and she was bumped several times on her way outside. Finally, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, leaning back against it and sucking in a large breath of cool spring air. She moved to sit in one of the several papasan chairs dotting the porch and removed the light hoodie she’d been wearing. The breeze felt wonderful on her heated neck and Jackie closed her eyes, inhaling. She sat for a few minutes like that, letting the breeze wash over her as the dull thud of bass thudded against the inner walls of the house. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that the fairy lights strung up along the porch had come on and smiled at the whimsical twinkling. She could leave right now, she’d Ubered here, so she could call another. She could put tonight and Nicky and Gigi’s words behind her, not having to worry about seeing Jan again until the fall production. But her legs felt tingly and the breeze was so nice. She could spare a few more moments before pulling out her phone. Her eyes slipped shut again, just as she heard the music quickly rise and fall in volume and the front door shut.

Jackie opened her eyes and was caught in the stare of another pair of brown eyes gazing back at her. Her throat closed and the breeze suddenly felt frigid on her exposed skin. Jan was standing there, staring back at her, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the faint music. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Jackie croaked. She swallowed and tried again. “No, just needed some air.”

Jan nodded and gestured at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit? It’s boiling in there.”

“Sure,” Jackie replied. “It is pretty packed.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“It was nice of the Kappas to throw this for us. We worked hard on the show.” Jan commented as she sat down. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to Jackie and she could smell lavender and cedar.

“You guys did all the work. Long nights rehearsing and all. And performing for all those people.” Jackie shrugged, shaking her head to rid her nose of the smell.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. We didn’t have hardly any mishaps with the sound this show and none at all on opening or closing night. I don’t know much about the sound aspect, but that couldn’t have been easy.” Jan smiled.

Jackie laughed, “It’s just a bunch of button pressing, really. Not hard at all.”

Jan shrugged, “You’d know better than I do, but I still think you did an amazing job. You always make sure everything works as best as you can.”

Jackie blinked, stunned. “There are plenty of techs who do what I do.”

“Yeah, but none of them ever get my mic set up right. You get it right every time. From day one. When we did Rent?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I was so convinced I’d spend the entire run through majorly uncomfortable because the mic set up was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised when everything felt fine. I asked the production techs about you and requested you ever since.” Jan smiled, curling her long legs up into the chair.

“Wow, uh, thank you? Glad I could help?” Jackie laughed. Her blush was back in full force and she wished the fairy lights were red or pink so she could blame it on them. “You were amazing in Rent, by the way. Your Maureen was awesome. I’d hoped you would keep performing.”

Jan’s eyes lit up, “Thank you. I love theatre and singing, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Jackie couldn’t think of anything else to say and the conversation tapered off. Jan was still looking at her though, fairy lights reflecting in her brown eyes. Nervous at the scrutiny, Jackie dipped her head, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Gentle hands moved her head back up and tilted her face towards Jan. The younger girl leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to Jackie’s. They were only there for a second, but Jackie’s breath hitched at the light pressure. “Yeah, you did. Me.”

Jackie swallowed and reflexively swiped her tongue along her bottom lip. She could taste honey and hoped it was from Jan’s lip chap. “Uh. What. What was that for?”

Now Jan sported a blush and finally dropped her gaze. “I thought- It was stupid, I just thought that maybe you, uh, liked me? But I was wrong, I’m so sorry, I’m not usually so forward-”

Jackie cut her off by kissing her again. She felt Jan gasp, and her eyes slipped close as Jan’s lips began moving against her own. Jan did taste like honey and Jackie thought it was the sweetest thing she’d tasted all night. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and eventually Jackie was forced to pull away, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air. She could feel that her face was flushed and saw a matching one across Jan’s.

“You weren’t. Wrong that is. I’ve, uh, liked you since Rent. I just thought that you wouldn't notice me, me being behind the scenes and all.” 

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” Jan replied, grinning wide. “Would you want to get coffee tomorrow? With me?”

Jackie grinned to match, “Yes. Yes, it’s a date?”

“Yeah, a date.” Jan moved closer to Jackie. “But I’d really like to keep kissing you now. You taste like coconut rum and it’s my favorite.”

Jackie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Jan’s once more. It looked like she’d have to thank Nicky for the stolen drink tomorrow. After her date.

[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 7

blooming | into the light

Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, and an inappropriate amount of references to video games and classical music and literature titles, no beta we die like men ;;v;; pre-canon a.k.a before FFXV Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership.

Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: in which noctis takes a nap with his new friend

SOME WOULD CALL IT A childish fight. A hug, a peck on the cheek, and all that’s left is for you to make up with him. Yet, the thought crossing your head isn’t one of apology, not that you had anything to apologise for. Byron’s transgression is expected for one such as him, and you were long beleaguered by his critical dissection of your decaying life.

“You don’t even know how to love to begin with.”

You repeated his choice of words, knowing they were uncalled for.

The very same words Byron uttered, a callous weight to the sentence. Somehow, it sounded stupid for some reasons. Logically thinking about it, all human beings are capable of loving, wanting to love, and yearning to be loved in return. And love takes form not only as eros, the romanticism portrayed in novels of passionate rapture; ludus spoke of the playful love between two persons, agape represents the universal and unconditional love, and philia—the mutual friendship, the bond you now share between the prince and his excitable companion.

They, too, are forms of love.

And you are capable of loving them just as much as you loved everyone else.

Just thinking about your butler’s cryptic words hurt your head. Your half-eaten lunch of ham-and-egg sandwiches lay in a plate on your table, but you’ve long lost the appetite for it. Not when your head’s all wrapped up in thoughts of Byron, Byron and his dismissive nature, Byron and his stupid long ponytail, Byron and the icy glaciers in his murky eyes. Byron who tucks you in your bed once upon a time, Byron who coddles you with books and ribbons and food, Byron who takes you by your chin and whispers into your ear that you’re not made for this, you’re not made for loving, you’re not meant to be loved—

you were not born out of love

—ah.

Father is in your head again.

You bury your face in your arms, slumped over your work table in a helpless heap. Father and salt-and-pepper for his beard, a balding head, crow’s feet crinkling his eyes in that expression of perpetual disappointment. When he holds you with rubbery hands, you know a severe lashing is in order. What does he care anyway? He’s never hid the fact that he wedded mother—sweet Mnemosyne Ignatius born into a family of commoners—not out of love, but out of sheer profit. Her indomitable intelligence captures his attention, and being the strategist he is, seeks to claim her like a piece of land for Lucis.

If he could engineer genetics to provide the best of both parental genes, then you supposed you were the test tube baby. Science breeds love. And you were a product of it.

In fact, you would’ve been a genetically superior species if not for a slight defect; you are a daughter, and not a son. What is seen as the pride of the Andronicus is lamented as a tragedy spanning generations and generations of males, all bones and skeletons chanting your name as a curse from their graves.  

Disgusting daughter of the Andronicus doesn’t need to go out for school, they say, so keep her in the house and give her home tutors.

What could you do? What could you do to outshine others when you’re already shadowed from the start?

Trying to win father’s approval, your tiny hands constructed a manor out of building blocks.

The base would be your education, first and foremost, whilst its pinnacle will be your induction into the Lucian council. Touted as a bright child whose intellect surpasses those your age, your primary education flew by in just several years. Then comes your secondary education at ten, swallowing algorithms and equations and history and Crystal knowledge and regurgitating them with your fingers down your throat within three years. Fourteen and dying, tertiary education waits for no one but those who persevere; thick textbooks are your bedtime stories and writing discursions is your forced hobby. Academic journals are your daily reports and publications bearing the penname T. Andronicus is a common quote from one scholar to another.

With this, you had hoped, at the very least, father’s impression would improve. ‘Look, father, look—I’ve graduated at nineteen with a doctorate!’ you’d rehearse in front of the mirror, and father would finally regard you with light in his eyes and an approving hum of ‘yes, child, I see it now; you’re definitely an Andronicus, worthy enough to carry on the family name.’

But no.

Disallowed from attending your own graduation at the prestigious Lucis University, confined to the living room with only Byron and the chancellor of Lucis U attending, the ceremony is a disquieting funeral progression in all blacks. No commemorative pictures, no bouquets of flowers, no twirling of doctoral gown, and certainly no tossing of tudor bonnet. Not when father’s a lingering presence around the corners, watching.

In the end, what did nineteen​ years of your life amount to?

Nothing.

Nothing but a rolled up piece of paper.

With a weary sigh, you drag your unwilling body from the table, approaching your trusty cupboard of escape. All the emergency supplies are neatly folded within, clean white linens and scent of sunshine on the sheets. Wrenching the contents out on the floor, you make your way to your favourite spot by the glass windows, where the sunlight falls just right and the warmth seeping through the glass panes feels just nice. An afternoon nap is in order, and you’re not going to take no for an answer.

A customary action you’ve already perfected, you lay out the sheets, layered it up with comforters, decked the corners in pillows and bolsters, and leapt onto your private heaven. Always in an oversized shirt too big and pants too baggy, you shimmy down your blanket and bury your face in the reprieve, even if outside, Insomnia is a constant force in the world.

You don't have to care.

You don't have to care at all, for it is a world out of your grasp.

Scrubbing away all remnants of Byron and father and papers and pens, you turn to your side and grabbed a pillow, encasing it in a bear hug. Sleep will come, sooner or later, even if it rides a late train.

That is, until, you hear the doorknob turning.

“—and the teacher said it too!”

from the other side of the door, mama laughs. you couldn’t see her past this wood, but you could just image the way her face lights up with mirth, her luscious curls bouncing, her shoulders shaking. somehow, the thought makes you smile too. even if you’re separated by this door, nothing separates the bond between a mother and a daughter. what was it called again, in that blue-and-red book byron got for you? oh—right, storge. a bond built upon empathy, familiarity, and the natural love between parent and child.

if this is truly love, then you’d never want to let it go.

when mama’s laughter dies down and she speaks up again, it is all breathy with a trace of melancholy. “byron,” she says, and the albino standing by straightens up at the mention of his name. “thank you, thank you always for risking your life to bring us together. i can’t repay you enough. if—if quintus knew of this, then you’d surely—”

the steady footfalls of byron approaching your location echoes in the parlour, and he too kneels by your side, pressing a gloved hand on the door. it’s as though he could feel mama, just like you. “not at all, lady mnemosyne. taking care of her is my job. and,” he pauses, eyeing you from the corner of his eye with a smirk, “even if taking care of kids isn’t my specialty, the astrals are helping out loads. six knows how rowdy she can get when she’s bored.”

in an instant, your face shoots up in flames. “whuh—hey! that’s soooo not true!”

he laughs. and mama laughs too.

but mama’s laughter is strained, breaking at the edges.

WHAT GREETS HIM WHEN HE steps in is the usual plateau of Insomnia’s generous panorama of skyscrapers—and the sight of you, all cuddled up on your makeshift island of blankets and pillows by the sunshine. This time around, you noticed his presence straight away, for you sat up on your bedding and gave him the haziest of looks, one with half-lidded eyes, mussed up hair, and a drooping neckline teetering on the edge of your shoulder, revealing the sharp cut of your collarbones.

In other words, Noctis realises as he shuts the door behind him, you are a mess.

By all means, it’s not unexpected, he supposes. Last week ended on a sour note with your butler being a jerk not only to you, but to him and Prompto as well. The albino scoffs at the idea of ‘friendship’ and probably thinks it’s like a kid’s show, one with loads of rainbows and glitters raining from the sky in all its neon glory. Friendship is magic or whatever it is that Kenny Crow squawked in an ad by the subway. In a ritual increasingly habitual to him, he slips off his loafers and socks, drops his satchel behind the door, and plods over to you.

“Hey, you look like shit,” he says—and he can mentally imagine his etiquette tutor screaming at him at the back of his head because he did not just address a female nobility like that and oh Six where have I gone wrong? as she wrings her hands tragically. Still, his casual greeting cracks the sleepy stupor you’re in, and your lips curve into a small smile. It’s nowhere a big one, but it’s a start.

A hand rubbing your eye, legs splayed by your sides, you yawn. “Compared to you, yeah I look awful. What’s with all the getup? Some fancy royal stuff you had to attend, Prince?”

Oh—right. It had been the norm to show up in shirt, cargos and boots to your room, so you obviously haven’t seen him in a black dress shirt, fitted pants, and matching tie. Cufflinks and tie pin too, if he were to count that in. Being subjected under your intense scrutiny puts him in an awkward spot, so he looks away and busies himself with unfastening his diamond cufflinks, drawing his sleeves up to his lean forearms.

“Yeah, last paper for finals today,” Noctis grouses, rubbing his nape. “Lucis U and their formal dress code, seriously.”

That makes you laugh, a small sound in a room too big. And that, that’s definitely a good start for him.

“I feel you,” you agree in an almost placating manner, pulling a pillow to your chest as you rest your cheek against it. “They made me wear formal stuff for finals, even when I was taking it in my own house. Sheesh, talk about upholding the proud Lucis U custom.”

Leaning backwards and holding his upper body weight with an arm, Noctis regards you under curious eyes. “You’re a graduate of Lucis U too?”

“Yeeeep, that’s the one. Just don’t call me a senior or alumni or whatever,” you brush it off, shaking your head. The subject is dropped just as easily as a new one is introduced, something you’re skirting around again. “Anyway Prince, now that it’s the end of the semester for you, what’re you gonna do? Got some exciting plans all laid out?”

Well, that’s a first. He’s hardly heard you talking like this, all laidback and bare to the world—to him. Mentally filing away the random trivia in his head, Noctis studies the lazy hints of a smile on your lips before shrugging. “Nope. It’s December and I’ve got absolutely nothing to do.” He pauses for a while. “Well—except Justice Monsters is gonna come out with a new game soon, but you know how they’re always teasing us with the release.”

At the news, your eyes are round, blinking at him owlishly. Half of your face buried in your pillow, your voice comes out muffled. Almost reminiscent of a preying cat waiting for the perfect moment to ambush his legs, Noctis thinks to himself as you speak up. “Justice Monster series? You mean the arcade ones, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” he repeats your words right back at you, and he doesn’t miss how you wrinkle your nose at him in mock exasperation. “Their last game was what—four years ago? Prom said they’re revamping their whole system to make it new, but I don’t know if that’s the case. Kinda liked the old battle system, to be honest. Can’t add much to a pinball game anyway.”

For a moment, there is a lull in the conversation.

You’re all quiet, contemplative, eyes trailing down from his nose and resting on his knee, and all Noctis thinks is that he’s messed up somewhere. But it’s a video game and you’re a diehard fan of games, right? So what’s with the awkward silence?

“I’ve never played Justice Monsters before,” you say, a slow and thoughtful drawl of your words. Almost too loud in the deafening silence of this room. “Since they’re all arcade stuffs.”

That’s not a problem because Noctis supposes Justice Monsters series isn’t for everyone and the gaming machines are all located in rowdy arcades, teeming with high schoolers raring to outdo each other in high scores—oh.

Arcade.

He almost wants to drag a hand through his face at his momentary lapse in judgment. “My bad.”

“Nah, no harm done,” you reply, and there it is again, the fledgling of a smile on your face. “I just know most of the console stuffs since I can play it from home, and that’s easy enough. Any chance of Justice Monsters being ported to console or mobile? Maybe I can get a chance to play it someday.”

All he can do is to shrug, scratching his cheek. “Don’t hold your breath on it. If it took them this long to release a game, it’ll probably take them decades to port it over.”

You make a noncommittal sound at his answer and flop backwards, snuggling in your nest of pillows and blankets, sprawling all over the white sheets. The drowsy haze is back at it again, gradually consuming your limbs, starting from the languid curl of your legs to the indolent circling of your arms around a pillow. Rays of sunlight fall on your features in fragments, the warmth from the sun a stark contrast against the biting chill of your room. Sleepy, lazy child of the Andronicus, all nestled up in your kingdom of pillows and fort of sheets. Always tired, always sleeping.

Finding neither the need to break the silence nor the want for a new conversation, Noctis hooks a finger in his necktie and loosens the loop strangling his neck. He throws the silk piece aside and sets to work on rearranging your feathery mountain of pillows, making some space for him. If anything, you don’t seem to mind it at all. Your encouragement is to pat the space right beside you, already relinquishing the hold of several pillows to be gifted to his territory. By the time he’s done, he’s already lying on his back, taking in the arabesque detailing on the plaster ceiling, half of your pillows by his side.

It’s a quiet affair, lounging about like this.

You’re not talking, he’s not talking, and that’s fine. Conversational silence is an art many failed. Cold silence is offset by the warm brushes of sunlight on his skin, all over his body. The fuzzy hum of the central air conditioning, your even breathing, and just pillows. Very fine pillows, he thinks, as he shifts about to get the perfect position on this little island.

Undisturbed by his presence, you continue to stare into space, lost in your thoughts. A blank look he’s seen for weeks now, eyes trained on the ceiling, broken by the slow flutter of your eyelashes every now and then. Almost like a default expression of yours but you made a favourable impression so far, starting from the smaller smiles and even smaller laughter. He’s not expecting full-out chortles like Gladio or one of Prompto’s indignant cries, but you’re getting there—slowly.

Maybe by the time he’s King of Lucis, you’d wield an array of expressions like King Regis’ Armiger, ready to laugh, ready to smile, ready to shout your way to the top as his strategist.

And he thinks Prompto will like that very much.

Gazing at the parading clouds in the sky, cotton white on baby blue with just the barest hints of crystal pink from the magic barrier, you finally breathe out a sigh. “Hey, Prince? You wanna sleep together?”

He blinks.

Distracted by the hushed tranquillity of your room, Noctis almost misses your question. Craning his head to get a better look at your face, his eyebrows furrow in automatic. “Uh—what?”

Did he mishear that?

“I said, you wanna sleep together?” you repeat a tad bit firmer this time, rolling sideways to look at him. “I’ve got extra blankets and pillows back there. You look like you could use some extra hours ‘cause your dark eye circles are starting to scare me.”

Geez, that’s what you meant. You almost gave him a premature death. With how your face is clean from any suggestive traces of—whatever it is, all that you’re offering him is an invitation to sleep. Nap. Pillows and blankets provided. Absolutely free of charge. All of that, and something else. Friendship. Unspoken in the air.

“I blame it on the finals. Too much Ebony and too little sleep,” Noctis grumbles, pressing a hand to his hair as the beginnings of a yawn threaten to ruin his denial. “But nah, I’ll pass—“

Aaaaand you’re already up and about without even caring about what he has to say, walking towards the cupboard in a few resolute steps, wresting the doors open. Emptying the entire content of two comforters and three pillows stacked on your tiny arms, you cross the entire length of the floor with the same hurriedness as before. In dogged determination, you fuss about with donating his landscape of pillows with even more pillows and almost buried him under two comforters before you’re finally satisfied with the arrangement.

Dusting off your hands, you return to your half of the land and slip under your blankets once more, pulling them up to your chin. “Good night, Prince. See you later.”

He isn’t even given a say in the matter? “Hey, wait—“

Turning away from him, you pull your blankets over your head and all is lost to the world.

sunday. sundays are best spent with family, a quality time shared between parent and child. to you, no day matters more than the days you spent with mama, reverential over the piano keys she pressed, keeping every single musical masterpiece locked tight in your mind. today, a sunday, is just as good as any other day as byron places your hand in his, guiding you to the parlour by the piano room. he must’ve felt your excitement since you bounce on your feet and eagerly sat by the adjoining door the moment you entered.

two quick knocks and a word. “mama—“

only, her shrill scream answers your call.

THAT FEELING WHEN HE’S HIT with one of Prompto’s misfired stopcast in one of their training rounds? Yeah, that’s exactly what he feels like, now that he’s up. Or barely up anyway. Crimson stains the rumpled sheets, telling him of a sunset bleeding past the skyscrapers and blending into the distant horizon. A persistent hammer is hitting the back of his brain and his throat is all scratchy, bordering on a gaiatoad’s croak. Another nap sounds like a brilliant idea, but two things are nagging him right now; one: his shoulder aches like Gladio took him camping, and two: someone’s phone is in his face.

Forcing the sleep away, Noctis rubs his eyes and attempts to straighten his vision.

Phone. Hands holding said phone. A distinctly feminine face and complementing effeminate features attached to said hands. Sloppy shirt and a drooping neckline and all clean cuts of collarbone with a blanket hiding the rest of the body beside him. Shoulders rising and falling in steady breathing, wordless.

What in the Six is this.

Is this a newer version of a wet dream? With girls showing up in his bed, holding up a phone to his face? That’s impossible. His toes are freezing and his fingernails are bluish bordering on purple and this really doesn’t feel like any of those hormonal teenage fantasy phase he outgrew—even if it’s too realistic to begin with.

“Hey Prince, you’re up.”

Where has he heard that voice before?

Eyes peer curiously from behind the phone.

“Prince? You up yet?”

And quite suddenly, everything jolts back into his head like someone’s hit rewind on a tape; the stiff pain in his shoulder is because he’s an idiot for rolling in his sleep and ended up lying on his side, he drove his Audi to the Citadel to make a long overdue visit to your room, the finals seized him by his throat while it had Prompto in a chokehold on the wall, Ignis made oatmeal and berries for today’s breakfast, and—

“Slow start, huh?”

—right.

Finally, everything makes sense.

“Yeah,” Noctis finally finds his voice, even if it is raspy like he spent a night at a karaoke box with the gang—minus a brooding, dismissive Ignis who’d rather be found in a bookstore. “I feel like a zombie.”

Now you’re looking at him, all sympathetic even as you’re tapping on your phone. “That’s awful. Those late-nighters finally caught up to you, huh. Want some aspirins?”

As groggy as he is, he has half the mind to refuse your offer. “Pass. I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so.”

A distracted reply.

And a distracted reply from you only meant one thing: King’s Knight.

He’s not wrong when he sees your fingers working on overdrive over the screen, chewing on your bottom lip in pure concentration. Entirely absorbed in the game, teeth grinding, brows stitched together, it almost looks like you would break your phone if you missed out on a combo or two. He knows he can count on you to wake up only to play King’s Knight and tune out everything else on Eos if it meant clearing a raid with a perfect score. But at this point, he’s torn between deciding whether your obsession with the game borders on downright lunacy, or you’re going to drag him deeper by his feet into this hell as well.

The dramatic moment ends with much harrumph on your side and you lifelessly throw yourself on your back again, phone aside. Blue eyes stray from the way your brows are pinched together and your teeth littering your bottom lip with bites, to the sprawl of your arm and down your phone, where DEFEAT drops over the screen in gruesome reds and blacks.

Ah. Right.

Losing a raid is always frustrating, that’s for sure.  

“That sucks.” This time around, he’s the one who’s sympathetic. “What raid was it?”

“Against one of the Einherjars.” You mourn, rolling over to your side. Face half-obscured by your hair, falling over your cheeks, Noctis isn’t sure what to make of your expression. Is it one of resentment? Or simply one of lament? Turning on his side, Noctis squints to get a good look as you continue your spiel of grief. “You know these Einherjars, right? You gotta fight them to recruit them?” At his nod, you continue—not before sighing deeply like it’s a long-suffering disease. “There’s a secret dungeon in Yeiva Village where you can fight the Einherjar Callisto. And he pretty much trashed me good. Real good. I got wiped in 1.5 minutes flat.”

“Probably because Kaliva’s cooldown on his shield takes fifteen seconds,” Noctis offers his conjecture, in which you meet with rapid agreement. “Sure, Kaliva’s got high resistance towards magic but he’s a glass cannon at physical defence. He can’t take those big attacks if the boss comes at him.”

“That’s so true, Prince,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. Your free hand reaches out to tuck the offending locks of hair behind your ear, and you all but pulled your blanket over your shoulder again, smothered in a cocoon. “Necromancer Kaliva’s got better RES than most, but his DEF is still tiny compared to Warrior Ray Jack. Ugh. This feels so hopeless. I can’t get that Einherjar at this rate.”

Noctis bites back a small laugh.

Because—seriously, are you actually sulking over this?

Fumbling under the covers, he reaches for his phone and draws it out of the pocket. Within two clicks of unlocking and logging into King’s Knight, he settles his eyes on you again, fighting the grin that’s starting to grow on his lips.

“Hey, c’mon. Let’s try again. I’ll tank it for you.”

[tbc.]

if someone says they’re gonna tank a boss for you, those are words of pure love right there. ;;v;; <3 honestly this chapter is such a warm fluff when i wrote it (im around chapter 17 rn where sweet fluff happens again) and writing fluff makes everyone happy <3 except. when plot comes into play. that’s when tragedy happens. ;;v;;

out of curiosity, how tall are you readers? ouo ) if you readers don’t mind sharing? or what sort of height would you readers prefer? or would you readers prefer if there is no mention on height at all? i was writing a chapter and encountered some difficulty as i couldn’t imagine the average height of the readers of this fic in comparison to noct (involving some brushing-touching-feely stuff), so i’m trying to establish some average height to get it going. <3 please and thank you, if you don’t mind!

PREVIEW: “Never seen you standing around out here before,” Noctis says, and only then he manages to draw your attention to him. “Morning. Got your groceries delivered again?”