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ghstandpucks · 4 years

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Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.11

Hi everyone! I hope you all had a great past week and a great Christmas if you celebrated! I am super excited about this chapter and the next one! This is a part that I’ve had planned out since the beginning of writing this series so I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! Also let me know if you would like to be added to the tags! Have a happy and safe New Years in a few days <3

Cutting Edge Master List

You were seated on a plane next to Nate headed for Pittsburg and the NHL All-Stars. Since you were the only two going from the Avs, travel arrangements were made for the both of you to arrive together. The media team also gave you all the information for their Instagram account so you could have an “All-Star Take Over”. Openly being able to spend time with Nate and post about it, you would take it. You posted a video on the story once you landed of Nate putting all your bags onto a luggage cart, him looking a mixed of amused and annoyed as he tried to balance both of your bags. You were not a light traveler, and your skating bag plus his made for a bulky set up. Comments started to pour in with excited fans about the weekend’s events, and a few laughing at his expression. There were a few comments over a soft smile he sent you as you poked fun at him in the video, but you ignored those knowing that the exchange was harmless enough.

The hotel was packed and you were feeling slightly overwhelmed. Media was being set up for later that evening, different players and coaches were checking in, and you all of a sudden felt incredibly small surrounded by large bodies. You weren’t used to all the fanfare in the place you were staying. The Olympics had been insane, but the cameras and reporters were kept out of the hotels. Nate noticed your change in deminer and knocked his elbow into you, earning a quick smile as you stood a bit closer to him. He wished he could reach out for you, but he knew this was not the place. As you were about to check in, you heard your name being yelled behind you. You turned around and found Jeremy making his way over to you. Running up to him, you both collided in a fit of giggles. “My child! How are you?” Jeremy said as he pulled away.

“Good! This is all just a little crazy though. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. Happy to see you again,” you gave him another hug as Nate walked over to the two of you, holding out a room key.

“I was able to check you in too,” he said, then turned his attention to Jeremy. “Nice to finally meet you in person Jeremy,” he introduced himself.

“Yes, I feel like I know you already from all those facetimes the past few weeks,” Jeremy chuckled and shook his hand. He was referring to the times you were helping him put together his routine, and Nate would hold your phone as you showed Jeremy the choreography. You talked a bit more, then headed toward your rooms. Nate told you he would meet you in the lobby before heading over to the media event that was going to ‘capture everyone arriving.’ Basically, it was like a red-carpet event with sports reporters. You learned that the figure skaters were all on one floor, and were thankful Jeremy was staying next door. There was actually a door that connected your rooms, and as you hung up your clothes, Jeremey unlocked both sides so he could just make his way through. This was typical of the two of you if you were staying next to each other. Bradie also ended up being across the hall, and made her way over to get ready with you and Jeremy.

You curled your hair into a soft, beachy wave and kept your makeup noticeable but natural. Bradie helped you zip up your dress and you pinned her blonde hair up into a lose bun. Jeremy waltz backed into your room in a deep purple tux, white collared shirt, and a black bowtie. “You two look absolutely stunning!” he gushed. Bradie was in a floor length red dress with a boat neck line and lace sleeves. You were wearing a ballet pink strapless dress that was fitted on the top, then pooled out into a skirt of tule at your waist and ended mid-calf. The necklace Nate gave you sat daintily at the base of your neck and shimmered in the light. Slipping on your heels and taking one last look in the mirror, your group made way to the lobby.

Bradie and Jeremy went to find their team members, while you looked around for Nate. Glancing around the room, you finally caught sight of him and made your way over. He was talking with someone, though you weren’t positive who as their back was to you. As you approached though and Nate locked eyes with you, he seemed to forget what he was saying. You looked nothing short of an angel, and he was in absolute aw of you. He just so happened to be talking to Sidney Crosby at the moment, who at first was confused by his friend’s abrupt stop. Sidney followed Nate’s line of vision to you though, and he chuckled. Sid didn’t know about your relationship, but he could guess Nate had feelings for you from the number of times he had mentioned you when they talked, and just by the way he was looking at you now. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his friend was a goner for you.

As you joined the two of them, you smiled over at Sid. Of course you knew who he was, but you had never been introduced. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, extending your hand.

“Sidney Crosby, it’s nice to meet you Y/N,” Sid returned your smile and shook your hand. Nate finally snaped out of whatever daze he had been in as you spoke, your voice drawing is attention back to the present. You smiled up at him, and Sid tried to hide a laugh as Nate’s neck and face turned slightly red. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my coach,” Sid said.

“Oh, Gracie is right over there,” you said, pointing over to the blonde who was speaking with none other than Ashley Wagner. You loved Gracie Gold, but she was too sweet to notice the undermining Ashley likes to do. Your hand subconsciously went to your necklace, making sure it was flipped the correct way. Sid thanked you and excused himself, leaving you and Nate. Looking up at him, you smiled and went to fix his tie that was slightly off-center. “Well don’t you look nice,” you whispered so only he would hear.

“You look amazing,” he matched your tone. You blushed under his gaze, noticing he had on the watch you had given him for Christmas. With a smile, he offered you his arm and you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead you to the media event.

For about the next two hours, you answered questions and posed for pictures. Some of the interviews were individual, others asked you to join in with Nate. You were able to take a few pictures with him, careful not to stand too close or lean too much into him. It was fun being able to laugh together though when asked a few ridiculous questions like who the better skater was. The both of you said the other, then as he chirped you about it you poked fun at him right back. Your banter seemed to make for a fun interview, as you noticed some reporters kept you around longer than others. Nate was finished before you, as you had been trailing down the line behind him. Once you were finished with your last interview, you walked back into the hotel lobby and looked around for him. Upon not finding him, you took your phone out of your clutch and checked. Fortunately he had text you, telling you to meet him on the roof.

Stepping out of the elevator, the rooftop played host to a garden and a few fire pits spread out. Outdoor lights were strung above which made for an almost fairytale like scene. As you rounded a corner that had another, more secluded fire place and a view that over looked the city, you found Nate sitting there. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your heels, and got out of his seat meeting you halfway. “Why didn’t you grab a jacket?” He asked in a low register, immediately taking his suit jacket off and placing it around your shoulders.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you said softly, slipping your arms into the sleeves. No one was on the roof, and Nate brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

“You look so beautiful,” he simply stated. Your hands went to his and you curled your fingers around them. Smiling up at him, you pulled his hands down and took a step back, using one of his hands to twirl yourself around for him.

“You like?” you teased with a giggled. Nate chuckled and grabbed at your waist, pulling you up against his chest. His forehead rested on yours as his fingers started to curl into your sides, tickling you.

“Very much,” he said as you laughed and tried to squirm away from him. Once he stopped and you calmed down, he led you over to the fire pit and you noticed a pizza box sitting near it. “Thought you might be hungry. I know I am.” You sat down and took a bite of pizza.

“You’re the best,” you hummed as you both enjoyed your late-night meal. You sat out there a little longer, no one else ever coming up. In your little secluded section, you somehow ended up sitting in Nate’s lap with your back against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. You talked about nothing in particular, enjoying some peace and time all to yourselves. It was a little past midnight as you started to doze off in Nate’s arms, and he gently woke you so you could head back to your rooms. You had both decided that with media all around this weekend and your rooms around people who would definitely talk if you were caught sneaking into each other’s rooms, it was best to play it safe and stay separately. Before your elevator got to your floor, you leaned up and kissed Nate, then slipped off his jacket. Looking into his blue eyes, you saw an emotion you had never quiet seen before, and it made your heart flutter. “Goodnight Nate,” you whispered as the door opened. Looking around, there was no one to be found, so Nate stalled the elevator for a second.

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow?” he asked. You smiled and nodded. Tomorrow after a continental breakfast, the players all had ice time for practice if they wanted to. Then the two of you had another media thing to do, then the figure skaters had ice time. Nate smiled softly at you. “Goodnight Coach,” he said for good measure, incase anyone could actually hear you. You stifled a giggle and waved, walking toward your room. And just like he realized you were taking pieces of his heart as you walked away in Dallas after the game, this time Nate was hit hard with a different, but similar realization. He was falling in love with you.

~ ~ ~

You were half awake when Jeremy barged into your room and plopped down on the bed next to you. “You obviously haven’t looked at your phone yet today, have you?” he asked, and you stared at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He took a deep breath and held up his, showing you a clip from Youtube. It was of one of Ashley’s interviews last night, and you were confused as to why Jeremy was showing it to you. About two minutes in to the interview, the reporter asked Ashley what she thought about sharing the ice with you once again. You could visibly see how the question got to her, and braced yourself for the answer. “Well, everyone knows she doesn’t have a quad, and those are big jumps to have now. It’s a wonder how she even won the Olympics without one.” Jeremy stopped the video and you laid there shocked for a moment; she did not just say that!

“Are you kidding me!” you practically yelled jumping out of bed. “Who does she think she is?! She doesn’t have a quad either! That bitch!” You grabbed your phone and started to look up a different ice rink in the area. Finding one that was only about 15 minutes away and would be more private to practice at than the one that was being used for the All-Stars, you grabbed your tights, skating shorts and leg warmers and walked into your bathroom to change. Upon walking out, you found Jeremy in his skating attire also. “No one had a quad during those Olympics. Only like 3 women have ever even landed one in competition and that was just this past year!” you ranted. Jeremy nodded, slightly worried you were about to combust. “And another thing! I have a quad! I just don’t land it consistently so I kept it out of my routines.” You threw a water bottle from the fridge into your skate bag and grabbed your hotel key. As you started to walk out the door, you turned back to Jeremy who looked like he was unsure of what to do. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll order the Uber,” he simply said, grabbing his skates and following you out. You quickly ran into the continental breakfast room, spotting Nate. He smiled, then looked completely concerned as he had no idea why you were in your skating clothes when you didn’t have open ice till later that evening. You weren’t sure who he was sitting with, but didn’t care at that moment as you only had beating Ashley at her own game on your brain.

“I’m going to different rink; I have to work on something. I’ll be back before our media thing,” you said curtly, walking over to the buffet to grab a quick bite to eat. Jeremy handed you a yogurt as he grabbed one for himself, knowing it was better to hand you things at this point instead of asking questions.

“What’s going on Y/N,” you heard Nate say behind you in a low tone, and you wanted to tell him, you wanted to break down at that moment because you were hurt that Ashley would even say such a thing, but you gave him a soft smile and shook your head.

“I don’t want to talk about it here,” you simply stated and he nodded, still looking concerned. He was about to say something when Jeremy cut in.

“Our Uber is a minute away. We need to go,” he said. You picked up an orange juice to go with your yogurt and gave Nate a smile, one which he knew was fake, and started to walk toward the door so you could leave.

“What happened?” he asked Jeremy who didn’t follow you as he wanted to reassure Nate that he had you and you were going to be fine. He was sure by Nate’s face that he had never seen this side of you before. Gone was the sweet, bubbly Y/N; replaced by someone who was extremely competitive and rightfully pissed off.

“Ashley happened. I’ll send you the link. I’m going with her so she doesn’t hurt herself because she’s about to get very upset over a jump. I’ll make sure she’s back on time and in one piece,” Jeremy tried to reassure him.

“What do you mean? What jump?” Nate asked, confused. He hadn’t seen you struggle with a jump when you practiced in Denver.

“A quad. You know, four times around in the air? They’re still kind of rare for women in performances but Ashley called her out.”

“What?” Nate wasn’t sure if he needed to be more upset with Ashley, or worried about you trying to do this jump that sounded impossible in his mind.

“Don’t worry. If anyone can land a jump out of pure spite and anger, it’s Y/N. It’s how she first lands most of her jumps because she becomes irritated with them. I have to go though, just try not to worry,” Jeremy said, racing out after you as he saw the Uber arriving.

~ ~ ~

An hour later Nate was on the ice, but his head was not in it. All he could really think about was how flustered you seemed this morning. He had watched the clip that Jeremy had sent him as soon as he got back to his room after breakfast, and immediately understood your reaction. He wished he could be of more help though, instead of feeling completely out of place in the politics of figure skating. If it were a hockey player, he would just deck him at their next game. Maybe when they played Dallas again….no, he thought, that would just upset you if he picked a fight for no reason.

As all of these thoughts were going through his mind, Sid skated over to him, knocking into him jokingly. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Nate shook his head and Sid gave him a look that told him he did not believe that. “Y/N was pissed this morning and now she’s working on this quad jump which sounds impossible and I don’t know what to do. Figure skaters fight differently than us I guess.” Sid wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh because it sounded ridiculous for Nate to care this much about something that seemed trivial to him, or if he needed to actually try to help his friend through whatever emotion he was trying to process at the moment.

“We are talking about your coach Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, my coach,” Nate mumbled, looking down. Sid thought better of his next question at first, but decided to ask it anyway.

“Is she only a coach to you?” Nate’s eyes shot around quickly, and then realizing it was only him and Sid standing off to the side, he let out a deep breath.

“She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months but keeping it a secret because she like put this whole program together you know,” Nate admitted quietly, he knew he could trust Sid. The older man nodded, then smiled and chuckled.

“I could have guessed there was something between you two last night. Good for you man, I won’t say anything. As for her I’m sure she’s fine. I mean, she is an Olympic champion so I’m sure knows what she’s doing.”

Right as those words came out of his mouth, 15 minutes away you were falling to the ice once more, your knee colliding nastily to the side. You got up and brushed the ice off, knowing that was going to leave a bruise. Jeremy looked at you sympathetically. “Maybe it’s time to stop for the day. You’ve landed a majority of them.” You took your water from him and took a sip, knowing he was right, but also knowing this had to be perfect. Handing the water back you held up your index finger.

“One more,” you said, skating away and setting up the jump. You were doing a quad flip. With it being your best jump, turning it into a quad was the most logical two years ago. You were just never confident in it, and by the time you were, you had performed for the last time. Setting up the jump, you dug your toe pick in and launched into the air, completing the four rotations and landing in a solid check out.

“Beautiful!” Jeremy clapped. You skated back over to him with a smile. “Now let’s go so you can get all pretty for media, cause I’m not sure what’s happening with your hair right now,” he said, with a hand motion to your hair.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” you asked, half joking and half offended. You knew you probably had tons of fly away hairs.

“You look like a mad scientist right now sweetie. I don’t think your ready to let Nate see you like this yet. I’m really just thinking of you,” Jeremy said dramatically as you cleaned your blades. You rolled your eyes and called an Uber, heading back to the hotel.

~ ~ ~

An hour in a half later you met up with Nate at the main rink where the interview was to take place. As you reached him, you were able to see Jakob Silfverberg and Bradie finishing up their interview. Nate bumped you with his elbow and motioned for you to follow him when you looked up at him. You did, already guessing what he wanted to talk to you about. He rounded a corner and you found yourselves in a deserted hallway. As Nate opened his mouth, you launched into an apology. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just didn’t want to talk about it with so many people around and I felt like I was going to cry if I did cause I’m just so mad and honestly hurt that she would even say something like that. Like you just don’t do that.” Nate immediately reached for your hand, shaking his head.

“Please don’t apologize. Jeremy sent me the link and I get it. I just wanted to see if I could do anything. I feel bad that I can’t do much to comfort you because of the environment we’re in this week. Really I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” he stated, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles and looking around to make sure no one walked up on the two of you. You smiled and felt yourself relax for the first time that day. You stood on your tip-toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m ok babe, thank you. My knee has a massive bruise on it, but I’ll be fine,” you answered with a slight giggle, and you really were. Though you were hurt by Ashley’s comment, the fact that Nate was checking on you made you feel like everything would be just fine. Nate chuckled.

“So how did the jump go?” he asked, unsure at how successful you had been if you had a bruise.

“I can land it. I just need a few more landings tomorrow and I think I’ll feel good enough to put it in the routine,” you said, and Nate grinned at you.

“Can’t wait to see it,” he said, kissing your forehead, then dropped your hand as you both made your way back over to the interview setup.

Once they were ready for you, Nate and yourself sat in chairs that were a little too high for you, your feet dangling and Nate immediately chirping you for it. Little did you know that the cameras were already rolling, you were live, and most of the team was watching back in Denver, laughing at your bickering. A few questions were asked, you and Nate answering and laughing at some of the funnier ones. They then announced they wanted to play a little game. They were calling it “Do You Know?”. You were both handed a white board and a marker. The interviewer was going to ask a question like “Do you know where they grew up?” and you had to answer on your board before time was up. You were told other player/coach teams have done fine, but not that great, and you and Nate gave each other a look and laughed. To the outside it just looked like you both were worried you would do the same, but the two of you knew better. You were going to dominate; dating did have its perks. Plus both of you were too competitive to even think about trying to hide how much you knew of the other…you had to be the best player/coach team. You laughed your way through the game, surprising the interviewer with how much you knew about each other. You both went 10 for 10, and high fived each other when you finished without getting any questions wrong. “How do you two know so much about each other?” the interviewer asked, raising an eyebrow. You could tell she was searching for something. Nate shrugged, so you spoke up.

“I didn’t know anyone when I moved to Colorado, so the team became my friends. Nate became someone I could rely on and we just get along really well,” you summed it up. Before she could launch into another question, you spoke up again. “Do we get an award for being awesome or anything?” Nate cracked up and the lady forgot her question.

“Are you kidding me Coach?” Nate looked at you with a grin. There it was, the platonic ‘Coach’. You were thankful Nate had phrased it that way.

“I never joke about winning,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. The interview ended at that, and you and Nate were free to go. Once back at the hotel, you asked for two sticky notes from reception. Nate watched you, amused and confused by your antics. You walked back over to him, and placed the sticky on his chest, showing him yours before you placed it on yourself. He laughed when he read ‘Winner’ on them. Taking a quick picture for the Avs story, you posted it on Instagram, captioning it “Best player/coach duo! #Winners”.

Nate rode up in the elevator with you to your floor, risking a quick kiss before the doors opened. “Are you still going to your practice right now?” he mumbled in your ear. You leaned in to him and nodded.

“Yeah, I need to lay out my choreography since it’s a different rink.”

“Meet me on the roof once your back then?” he asked.

“I’ll text you as soon as I drop my stuff back off in my room,” you responded as the elevator came to a stop. You stepped out and turned back to him as he grabbed your hand quickly.

“Don’t let her get to you. You’re amazing, quad or not,” Nate whispered, and you could have melted under his gaze. The sincerity in his voice made you want to cry, but you gently smiled at the man who was managing to steal your heart, bit by bit.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, then took a step away from him, watching the elevator doors close.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @calesykar @comphybiscuit @andreiaafaria @spencereidbasis

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge

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angelz-dust · 4 years

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masters of none - part 2 (jason todd x reader)

summary: thank you all for taking interest in this! i’ve gotten wonderful feedback and helpful criticism that i appreciate so much. i’ve decided to give you guys some more jason since i’m sure you all want to see him lol. i have a plan tho so bear with me. we are currently laying the foundation.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol. food mention. anxious reader.

part 1 /// part 3

ungodly hour

when you decide you like yourself. when you decide you need someone. when you don't have to think about it.

...

you felt an uncomfortable churning in your stomach as your bare back pressed against the cold leather seats of the limousine. you laced your fingers and rested your hand over your middle, hoping the subtle self soothing would calm your nerves. it wasn't everyday you went to a wayne gala after all. your silence and clear discomfort was enough to stir a reaction from misha, one of your fellow producers and stylist.

"you doing alright over there?" she asked after applying her lipgloss, carefully wiping the corners of her mouth.

"chillin'," you responded with a little shrug.

that was a lie. you felt like you were going to shit and projectile vomit simultaneously. however, it was freezing in the limo so you were definitely chilling in some sense of the word. your navy off the shoulder dress made of tulle embroidered with stars but it wasn't really warm. your shoulders were exposed and so was a good portion of your arms. you didn't know how misha was holding up in her dress. her entire back and arms had to protection from the cold at all.

"you know this isn't a big deal, right?" she reminded you gently. she must have picked up on your discomfort. "we'll go in, i'll network with the old money of gotham, and we'll leave."

"yeah but where does that leave me?" you asked her, shifting in your seat and almost slipping out of it. the tulle didn't provide much traction against the slippery leather. "i'm your plus one, remember? i serve no purpose."

"i thought that was the selling point," she pouted before making an attempt to cheer you up. "you don't serve no purpose. you're there to make me look good. my arm candy."

"i believe people may see it as the other way around," you informed her with a sigh. "but... fine. as long as you don't leave me alone."

"and let somebody snatch up my trophy wife?" misha scoffed, causing you to exhale through your nose with a barely visible smile. "i'm not letting you out of my sight!"

the limousine slowly stopped in front of the venue, your door lined up with the red carpet that had been laid out for the guests. it was time. you glanced around, briefly considering your escape plan just as the driver had opened the door, snuffing our any idiotic thoughts you had about jumping out through the sunroof or shimming out of the opposing window, away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

the lights. bright, blinding white lights flashing on and off. if you weren't acutely aware of where you were at the moment, you would've thought some kid had an essay due at midnight with the furious clicking and shuttering that filled your ears. misha was the first to step out, waiting for you to maneuver your way out.

the golden light emanating from the venue, paired with the harsh lights from the press honestly made misha look even more beautiful than normal. here you were, completely out of your element, standing next to a goddess in lilac chiffon. you looked up at her, noticing how the soft edges of her face contrasted with the sharp ones of her collarbone and the plunging v neck only accentuated that. the person you were with wasn't your friend, or your label mate. no, you were with gotham's resident fashionista and trendsetter, misha matsuri. if anyone was the arm candy, it was her.

you were brought out of your trance when she linked arms with you and began leading out down the red carpet. you honestly couldn't make out what the paparazzi were shouting at you both, aside from the occasional scream of your names. normally, you'd be a little more lively but this was a very important and formal event. it wasn't like the times where you went to award shows and you could feed off of the other seven's excited energy. you weren't surrounded by fans or people who were interested in hearing about you. you were here for misha and only her. you liked that aspect of it, but it was still uncharted territory for you.

"misha! can you tell us more about your foundation?" a reporter asked, pushing through the eager paparazzi who wanted to monopolize on their close contact with you both.

"of course," misha smiled, flipping her hair out of her face. "to cut to the chase, m squared is making fashion accessible to everyone. we've have homeless people on the streets who have no access to clothes that are befitting of the harsh weather they endure on a daily basis. we have low income families who can't afford to give their children new clothing for the school year. there are people who can't afford a nice shirt and slacks for their job interviews. our goal is the provide these people with what they need. access to clothing is a necessity, not a luxury."

you listened to misha and felt pride swell up in your chest, replacing the nausea that had plagued you previously. you were quickly reminded of why you came with her in the first place. she was trying to do something wonderful for the community and aid others in doing the same.

misha left it at that, dragging you along once she had said what she wanted. "see? that wasn't so bad."

"we haven't even crossed the threshold, mother teresa," you reminded her, jerking your chin in the direction of the large double doors behind held open for you both. misha flashed her invitation to the bouncer, quickly being let in.

the two of you walked in and you were stunned at the venue. everyone was dressed to the nines. you recognized many politicians, socialites, and some celebrities as you worked your way to the main ballroom. you felt your eyes widened as you saw bruce wayne out socializing with his guests. you had seen him on the news and in magazines but never in person. he was much taller than you expected. and closer in proximity to you. how was that happening?

"miss matsuri, miss l/n," he had greeted you both, almost surprising you. you weren't sure if misha brought you to him or he brought himself to you. maybe they met halfway while you were in shock. either way, he was here now. "it's wonderful to finally meet you both."

both? he knew you? bruce wayne knew you?

"thank you for your invitation, mr. wayne," misha smiled politely as they gently shook hands. he turned to you, offering you the same courtesy. you felt your brain lag out before you snapped out of it, taking his hand with nervous laughter. "it was a pleasant surprise."

"anyone that has the best interest of gotham in mind deserves recognition and support for their efforts. and please, bruce is fine."

you zoned out as bruce gave you the run down on the place. your eyes wandered around, occasionally lining up with a location bruce was telling you about. you were brought out of your boredom when you heard a loud crash off in the distance. you saw a group of four boys all surrounding a broken champagne bottle like it was a crime scene. you saw a twinge of annoyance on bruce's face before he collected himself.

"please excuse me. i need to reprimand my sons," he said apologetically, making his way over to the group who paled at his presence, except for the youngest one.

"father, this was todd's doing," you heard him say with a frown. "he kept antagonizing drake and they knocked over the champagne. grayson and i were merely bystanders."

"you are such a snitch," the apparent perpetrator sneered.

"here, come on," misha laughed, dragging you away from the scene. "i have old men to seduce for their money."

your gaze lingered on the group while you were dragged away. you knew that none of them were related by blood, expect for the little one and bruce, but handsome clearly ran in the wayne family. there must be something in that expensive tap water.

you spent majority of the night helping misha on her quest for benefactors. she wasn't made of money and she had made it clear that she didn't want money coming from the community. she wanted to 'milk the rich bastards of gotham for everything they've got' or something to that effect.

not actively participating in these conversations required you to try and keep yourself occupied. you started counting the chandeliers (there were five), thinking about one of the tracks you were working on (the chorus was lacking something and you didn't know what it was), and at one point you tried listening in on other conversations, hoping to hear about something juicy (you didn't).

how many glasses of champagne have you had now? three? four? you lost count. you realized you should've been counting them instead of the chandeliers. either way, you were definitely starting to feel the effects of that err. or was that the sensation of being watched?

misha had left to use the bathroom, leaving you by the fancy finger foods. as you ate the bacon wrapped enoki mushrooms, you could feel the presence of another person. you swallowed your food with a helpful swig of champagne before turning to the person who had made a claim on one of the strawberries with chocolate drizzle.

you watched as his lips parted, carefully taking a bite of the potentially messy dessert, his gaze directed at you. it was the handsome wayne boy from earlier. the champagne murderer was what you were calling him in your head. he was very tall and much better looking up close. his eyes were very striking, too. from the look in those eyes, you quickly figured out what he was trying to do.

"she's in the bathroom," you informed him, his brow perking silently as he chewed the berry, licking his lips of any lingering juice. he had this look on his face. confusion? but then you saw him fighting back a smile as he looked down at the table before looking over at you again.

"who?" he asked, his tone and look in his eyes awfully playful. you confused his flirty tone for coyness.

"don't play dumb," you laughed. normally, you wouldn't help out guys when it came to getting on misha's good side but you were making an exception for the dangerously handsome champagne murderer. "i can't give you her number. she hates that. but if it's any consolation, you're definitely her type."

"well, what about you?" he asked after taking a short pause to digest your words. "am i your type?"

you scoffed. the gall of this man.

"am i the backup plan or something?"

"no," he said, his lips pursed slightly as he shook his head. "would you like to be?"

"there's not going to be a plan to back up if you're trying it with me," you told him seriously. what a dick. it was to be expected, though. he was bruce wayne's son after all. of course he was a player.

"i never said i was trying anything. you're the one who keeps assuming things," he reminded you with a little grin. "had it occurred to you that i came over here, simply wanting to indulge myself in these divine strawberries?"

and he did just that, looking you in the eye as he took a slow bite of his new berry, raising a brow as you watched him. "what?"

"are they as divine as you anticipated?" you asked, not being able to resist some teasing.

"absolutely."

there was something about the way he answered you. was he flirting? were you flirting? the champagne was making it hard to read the situation. there was no way someone as gorgeous as him would spare you a glance and even if he did, you didn't have the time or energy for romance.

"alright. i'll be honest. i came over here because, well, i'm a fan," he told you, turning his body to fully face you now.

"oh," you nodded, not sure what to say next. when people led with that, it always felt awkward. were you supposed to say thank you, or was that weird?

"yeah. i've always wanted to meet batman."

you visibly paused, turning to face him as you watched him give you a lopsided grin. you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head. so he was a fan. he was referencing something you tweeted a few days ago. someone had jokingly made a conspiracy thread, claiming at you and the rest of cloud 9 were the vigilantes of gotham. they had theorized that you were orphan, to which you rebuffed, saying that you were clearly batman and they were blind not to see the resemblance.

"shhh, it's a secret," you whispered, putting your index finger to your lips.

"ohhh. right, right. my mistake," he whispered back with a firm nod. "how do you juggle your two jobs, though? seems difficult."

"well, if you must know, batman is actually a robot that i control from the comfort of my couch. very advanced technology. you wouldn't get it," you joked, making jason laugh out loud. was it really that funny or were you missing something?

"funny," he answered unintentionally. or you thought. could he read minds? "i'm jason."

"jason," you tested out his name on your tongue. jason. you liked it. "wayne?"

"todd," he quickly corrected you, seeming very adamant that you understood that.

"jason todd," you said again, almost addicted to how it sounded coming from your lips. jason. jason todd.

"and you're y/n l/n," he said, almost as if he were telling you, reminding you that was your name. you weren't sure if you liked saying his name or hearing him say yours more. before you could even register what was happening, he took your hand and gave it a soft kiss.

you locked eyes with him as he looked up at you with his lips, soft as silk, pressed against your knuckles. you could see something in them. he looked... unsure. afraid of his actions. you found yourself subconsciously mirroring his expression in an effort to try and identify it.

"it's a pleasure to finally meet you," you said breathlessly, noting how his demeanor changing a little now that the two of you searched each other's souls for a few seconds. he rubbed his thumb over your fingers before letting go.

"pleasure's all mine," he said, his voice softer now. he was the one who broke eye contact, looking around absentmindedly. he grabbed another strawberry, about to eat it when you went to carefully grab it from him. his lips grazed your fingers as he loosened his lazy grip, letting you take it from him.

"you can't hog them all," you informed him, trying it out for yourself. they were divine, just as jason described them to be. you let out a satisfied hum, which seemed to grab his attention.

"things always taste better when they belong to someone else, right?" he teased and you couldn't help but wonder if there was a double meaning to that.

"you don't own the strawberries, jason.”

"no, but i owned the one that's in your mouth, y/n."

you were sure he was saying these things on purpose now. you just smiled, softly sucking the juice off the pads of your fingers. seldom did the opportunity to harmlessly flirt with someone present itself so you wanted to enjoy it while you could. during your back and forth, you could feel yourself holding back, despite this. you felt jason was doing the same. you were both constantly thinking about what you were doing and actively fighting against it but not doing a very good job at it. it was odd, but you felt like you and jason had this unspoken, mutual understanding for what you were doing in that moment.

still, you couldn't let yourself fall into that trap. you knew when this was all over, that was it. nothing would come from it and you were fine with that. besides, he was a fan, right? it wasn’t right to be with a fan. there was a power imbalance there that you weren’t looking to exploit.

"sorry to interrupt, but my wife and i have an early morning tomorrow," you heard misha say from behind you as she wrapped her long, slender arms around you. saved by the bell.

"wife?" he parroted, giving you a curious look.

"yeah, for like, two more hours," you reminded her as you glanced at your watch.

"and you have to respect the sanctity of our fake marriage until then. just like cinderella," misha told you, putting her arm around your shoulder now.

"i don't think that's how the story goes," you laughed, giving jason an apologetic look afterwards. "i should get going."

"i understand. i'd hate to be branded a home wrecker," he joked and misha gave him a look.

"oh, i'm sure you would," she smirked, tugging you along. "goodbye, thief."

"bye jason," you called to him, waving goodbye, receiving a silent wave and smile in return.

"what was that about?" misha nudged you playfully, giving you a suggestive look as she led you through the maze of bodies blocking your escape route.

"i'll tell you on the way home."

you exited the venue from the back, where your limo was waiting for you. what started out as a scary social event ended up being surprisingly fun. you learned a thing or two from watching misha network and that conversation with jason was entertaining, to say the least. you wondered if you’d ever run into him again.

probably not.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #batfam

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jar-full-of-pixel-hearts · 4 years

Note

Hi Marie! I love reading your stories and I was wondering if you could do a story with Ben and the reader spending time together during quarantine

In quarantine with you

Ben Schwartz x Reader

A/N : Thank you for you request ! Even if quarantine isn’t a fun time I try my best to make it light and stick on what I think a quarantine with Ben will look like. I remember from his interview that he usually wake up early and he was eating a lot of frozen Reese cup so I try to incorporate it in there. I struggle for a while with the “ Spending time together” not knowing if you was intended romantically or just friendly, so I just mix them up a little bit except for the end. I hope you will like it and let me know as an anon or not !

* I tried my best to put a pandemic time line following the evolution on the quarantine rules, but since every country had different quarantine time and outside rules it could happen that it didn’t fit, so please excuse me in case of mistake.

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—-

When you had wished to pass more time with Ben, you never thought at a quarantine in an international pandemic. When the news broke that the virus was spreading, pushing the government to close the border and every public place. You were discussing by face time, trying to book at least a weekend with the busy man.

“ Well, what do you think of that ? Instead of a weekend you come to my place and we spend this isolating things together.” He had offered,showing you his best puppy eyes look.

How could you have answered no to that.

Almost two week now after your temporary move in. You never had been so happy to have accepted the invitation. Of course, at first you both had some difficulties, trying to accommodate you in this new domestic arrangement and new pandemic rules. But, after a few days of being woke up as early as a bird in the morning by the sound of Ben waking up. He starts to naturally close the door of the room and leave the store down, letting you sleep for at least a few hours more. For your part, you tried to avoid as much as you can the corridor leading to his office, letting him write in peace or passing his many interviews without outside noise.

After a few adaptations, your cohabitation works as well as a symphonie played by a brillant orchestra.

“ Piouff, one interview done, next one is at four,did you eat already ?” Ben asked you, entering the living room where you were binge watching one of your favorite series on Netflix.

“ Yes, I leave you a plate in the fridge. How did the interview go ?”

“ Oh good thank you i’m starving. It went pretty well, their questions were great. We had some fun “

“ Mind playing a game of Mario Kart after you eat, i’m in the mood to kick your ass “ You joke, enjoying the sound of his laugh.

“ Did you lose like ten times already ? It admirable that you still think you can kick my ass in a game I had mastered”

“ I feel lucky today I guess” You reply amuse “ Go eat, I will set up the Switch “

“ Okay then “

Moments like this were some of your favorites. Simple, sometimes childish, moments when outside life problems seem to vanish, leaving only the two of you laughing or cuddling.

Of course, you also had some rough times, scared of what would happen in the future and how you will get out of this pandemic situation. But, each time, you were here for each other, trying many different ways to make you feel better or chase the scary thought away.

When Space force goes on Netflix, you made an effort, hoping to make him laugh by throwing a parody of a movie premiere. You had prepared every detail, from the popcorn and other snacks( mostly frozen Reeses cup) in a little D.I.Y bucket, to the fake red carpet ( previously the bath mat), to a print page of the Space Force logo tape to the wall, finishing by you in the only pretty( not sundress) dress that you had put in your luggage.

The whole assembly of things put together in the living room was oddly looking like the house birthday party of a five years old kid. But, he totally loved it. You knew that public events like premieres weren't the favorite part of his job. But, after two months of hearing him sigh of how much he loves wearing his casual clothes, but already miss his button up shirt and nice clothes. You couldn't stop smiling when, after discovering the surprise, he had run upstairs, coming down only after putting on one of his suits and a tie matching the tone of your dress.

You also make fun of the whole situation that was his quarantine hair. Once a while, seeing him pushing them out of his face or struggling to arrange them, mostly ending up rocking a baseball cap in the house.You had jokingly asked him if he thinks they had their own life or if he already lost something in the vast forest of his dark lock.

“ I really should cut them off” He once announced one day, at your own despair while his head was resting on your thigh during a movie “ They became a little bit out of control”

“ Cutting your hair ? Did you though at the poor little fairies living in it. They will lose their home” You joke, laughing as you pass your finger in the soft mass.

A smile blooming on his lips,he closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the sensation on your fingers.

“ We could relocate them, keep the hair we had cut and make them a home in that” He laughed.

“ We ? You want me to do it ?! Murder your beautiful hair. Not sure I will be able to do it”

Lifting his upper body on his elbow, he gave you one of his sad looks.

“ Please, they will grow back but right now they drive me crazy.”

“ Fine “ You sigh with a half smile“ prepare the garage I will take a towel and the scissor “

Unexpectedly, you came out proud of the result.

And then, as another month passes and some public places reopen. You found Ben more often in his though, looking at the horizon for no particular reason. At multiple times, you had tried to ask him if it were okay, but each time, he came back to his natural happy state, assuring you that yes, he was going well, he was just thinking at his writing.

Until one night when lost in his thoughts, he looked at you biting his lips, clearly fighting an unusual nervosity.

“ Do you know what I was thinking ?” He suddenly asked you while you were reading at the end of the couch.

“ No “ You reply, lifting your eyes off your book.

“ You could stay here”

“ Isn't that what I have already done for three months now ? “ You ask, confuse.

“ After all this I mean...permanently...moving in…” He finished, putting the controller on the table, facing you.

“ Are you sure ?” You couldn’t resist asking.

“ Yes, I never thought of thinking of it for weeks now. And every time my answer is that we are good together, I'm happy that you're here...I'm happy with you in general…”

Putting your book away, you get closer putting your lips on his, joy busting like bubbles in your chest.

“ You make me happy too..“ You reply after your kiss, smiling.

“ So...it’s a yes ? “ He asked, smiling but unsure .

“Of course it’s a yes, I can wait to move in ! “ You laugh.

“ Well, at the clothes on the floor in the bedroom you already did” He joked laughing when you gently hit him with a pillow. “ Do you think I will let you hit me, wait a minute you will see !”

Laughing, you end that night on the floor, planning your new life together.

—

PLEASE don’t forget to Like, Comment or Reblog !

—

Tag List : @caitlin-rose28 @skullchik89 @ruefulposts @ssanjuniperoo @scruffiejelly @festmenyes @dannydevitostrashbag @humanbeingiguess @qatiee @ waffletoast215 @ formedinaway @ shipsandart @ hugedwarflover @ peachylemasters @ diamond-doritos @imvibin69 @ benschwartzismyhusband @underthewillowtreerycb

#Ben Schwartz #Request #Ben Schwartz x reader

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queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm · 5 years

Text

Ok here me out, Marinette Project runway winner

This is for @ozmav @mindfulmagics @maribat-archive @realrandomposts for inspiring me to do this even though I’m probably annoying you people.

She moved to Gotham after defeating Hawkmoth to study abroad

During this time she begins her time on Project runway

Even after having commissioned her work to celebrities such as Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone she is out in the bottom 3 in 2 occasions

This causes her to work even harder to win

Marinette creates looks based off of Ladybug, the miraculous team, and the heroes of Gotham (Chat’s Miraculous was taken long ago, before defeating Hawkmoth)

Her Robin look was the one that made her the win (it was a simple, but elegant black blazer with a small robin embroidered on the right breast pocket, a white-based shirt with prints that resembled a bird making its nest, black slacks, and brown dress shoes).

The judges loved her craftsmanship, “You have magic in the tips of your fingers!”

“The embroidery is so detailed, how did you have time for that?”

“I love it! Marinette Dupain-Cheng you are Project Runway’s 20XX’s winner!”

*Cue Marinette being so happy she burst into tears*

After this, she begins working on building her brand. She began shipping her clothes internationally. Her work becomes huge in Asia and blows up, K-pop and C-pop idols love her. BTS was once caught using her clothes as airport fashion. Jackson Wang and BOYSTORY are always wearing her clothes.

Because of this Marinette’s celebrity clientele, just became a heck of a lot bigger.

Jagged now brags about her work at every red carpet event he goes to (if he didn’t already).

“Jagged, please. Jagged no. Jagged why?”

Clara does the same, but not to Jagged’s extreme.

Marinette is constantly embarrassed by this and try’s her best to give credit to the other contestants she met on the show. They all loved her and were as happy as they could be when she won.

All of this leads to Jagged introducing Marinette to Bruce Wayne.

“I hear you’ve been Jagged’s exclusive designer since you were fourteen? That’s impressive.”

Marinette waves it off, “I was just trying to help a friend.”

“I was wondering if I could commission you to create mine and my sons’ next charity gala suits. I’ve seen your work and it is very practical, most of the designers sacrifice functionality and practicality for aesthetic. But you seem to know that there is more to it then looking nice, your work seems to be able to be on the go as well.”

Of course, Marinette agrees, “Y-Yes! I would love to!”

This leads to a later fitting session at the Wayne Manor to get their measurements.

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you’re early,” Alfred points out while Marinette waits for entry.

Alfred allowed for her to get inside after a moment.

“On time is late and early is on time, Mr?”

“Pennyworth, but you may call me Alfred. That is exactly what I always say, Madame.”

“Well, in that case, you can just call me Marinette.” She smiles at the well-seasoned gentleman.

The well-mannered man shows Marinette to the living area to wait on Bruce and his sons.

What she wasn’t expecting was for two men to come barreling down the stairs, locked in combat over a trivial subject. “Take it back, Todd!”

“Not a chance, Demon Spawn!”

“I’ll break every bone in your body so badly, that not even the Lazarus pits could undo the damage caused!”

“When you say things like that, you just prove my point!!”

Marinette silently watched as the two continued their squabble. ‘What’s a Lazarus pit? I’ll have to ask Master Fu.’ (After defeating Hawkmoth, Master Fu retrieved Tiki. But that didn’t stop her guardian training.)

Eventually, the two boys got physical and Marinette decided it was time to intervene.

“Say it AGAIN!”

“You are JUST like your grandfather! You bra-”

“Umm, excuse me... Who are you two?”

The two stop to see a small, French woman physically keeping the two apart. The boys look completely gobsmacked.

“The better question is who are you?”

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m here to get Bruce Wayne and his sons’ measurements for a piece he commissioned me to do. I’m a designer,” She said smiling, extending her hand.

Jason takes it before Damian, “I’m Jason Todd-Wayne, nice to meet you.”

Damian scowls, “How polite of you...” he murmured to himself.

Marinette looks to the boy who has yet to introduce himself, “And you are?”

Both Damian and Jason’s jaws dropped, she really didn't know who they were. She was in their house for Pete’s sake, “I’m Damian Wayne.” Damian took her hand and gave it a kiss for added effect.

“Show off,” could be heard from Jason’s direction.

Marinette didn’t care for what the peanut gallery had to say, she was bright red after Damian did that.

At this moment, Dick, Tim, and Bruce walked in at the same time.

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you’re early,” Bruce said walking to greet her.

“I didn’t want for you to wait for me, also you can just call me Marinette. It feels weird when someone older and with a much more esteemed reputation calls me Miss.”

Once she finished speaking, Tim basically ran to her at the speed of light. The Flash, who?

See all the boys enjoyed Jagged’s music, but Tim, Tim was the grade A fanboy that everybody at least knows of. He’s watched every interview, heard every song, bought every album, poster, t-shirt, and every bit of merch he could get his hands on.

Needless to say after all the praise, Jagged gives to his personal designer, Tim knows exactly who she is.

“It is an honor to meet you Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I am Tim Drake-Wayne. I’m a big fan of your work.”

“You like fashion, Timmy?”

“I’m interested, sure, but Ms. Dupain-Cheng has done work for Jagged Stone. Since. She. Was. Fourteen. Her work has won awards since she was fourteen!” Tim said, disgusted by his brothers’ not knowing who she is.

“Please, it was completely by chance I met Jagged. Plus, I wasn't the only designer he’s ever had.” Marinette tried to take the attention off of her achievements.

“You just the only one who has made Jagged look like something other than an eggplant. I love the guy’s music, but his outfits before you... they looked cheap.”

Dick moved to speak, “It’s true, looking back at his old ensembles, there was a dramatic shift in craftsmanship. I’m Richard Grayson-Wayne, but you can call me Dick.”

Marinette’s face rivaled her old Ladybug costume. “Please, it was nothing. I made a million mistakes when I was designing back then. Anyway, let’s talk about what’s happening today. Your measurements for your suits. I assume Mr. Wayne has more important things to do after this.”

This got the boys to get down to business (to defeat the Huns) and shapes up real quick at the sound of her “serious” voice. The same one she used to use when Chat Noir used to flirt in the middle of an attack.

She when in order of oldest to youngest. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim, were all done. Damian had been waiting patiently for his turn, watching her work.

Marinette had this habit of sticking her tongue out whenever she was hyper-focused, Damian found this endearing. While she was getting his measurements, he was staring hard. This did not go unnoticed by the Batfam.

After she’s finished, it’s kinda late. Alfred invites her for dinner and Marinette graciously agrees. Marinette helps prepare the dessert, Alfred repeatedly told her she didn’t have to, but she insisted.

During dinner, the Batfam began to ask about her personal life, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

“Master Dick, that is not appropriate to ask a young lady!”

Marinette almost chokes at the question, “That’s... um... I just got out of a controlling relationship. I... um... really don’t feel like talking about it.”

Adrien had done a number on her mentally, once he discovered she was Ladybug he wanted her and him to get together immediately. She agreed after some time, but Adrien was always pushy. He always pressured her into doing something that she wasn’t comfortable doing. One day she had enough, she told him that she was done. Let’s just say that didn’t go over well. Marinette shifted in her seat as she recalls that night.

Damian seems to notice this and tells her that she doesn’t have to say anything if she doesn’t want to, Marinette appreciates this and thanks him.

Quickly Marinette switches the topic, “I really like that Gotham has heroes, that protect the city. They make me feel safe like I'm back in Paris.”

This gets all the boys’ attention, Bruce asks her why.

“In Paris, there were heroes to protect them from a magical terrorist, named Hawkmoth. He possessed people who were at their worst and turned them into these things called, Akumas. Ladybug and Chat Noir were the heroes. After he was defeated, Ladybug and Chat Noir retired.”

Damian was baffled by how the league did not know about this, “Why haven’t we heard about this?”

“Mayor Bourgeois kept everything quite to keep tourism flowing, but if you really want to know about it there’s a blog. Be careful though not everything on there is reliable.”

Tim makes a mental note to check it out later.

By the end of the meal and time to go home, all members of the Batfam+Alfred give and get Marinette’s personal contact info.

They gained a friend and a new designer.

Let me know if you want more because then and only then will I do more. This is my first time posting my writing, so please be nice. Thank you for taking the time to read it though! :)

Edit: here’s the ao3 link https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F20572886&t=MGFkNWY5ZDVjOTcwNmIyOTU3YjM0OGQwOTc1YTU5MWZkNDlkNzliYSwwZjg5ZTA1ODIyY2M5MGUyNWYxY2YyMzYyZTY3ZjY2NmNjNzIwMDg5

#maribat #marinette x damian #Damian Wayne #damientte #BatFam #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #DC Universe

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alj4890 · 4 years

Text

And Then I Met You

What happens when the one you thought you were meant for turns out to be meant for someone else?

A\N Choices Fan Fiction with characters from The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject @krsnlove @annekebbphotography @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desireepow-1986 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @emceesynonymroll @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @lolablackwrites @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker . @trappedinfandoms @kate-mckenzie

Masterlist

Part 25

Novosel, Cordonia, seven hours southeast of St Orella...

Thomas turned the lamp off and attempted to go to sleep. He tossed and turned a few times and ended up staring up at the ceiling.

The hotel suite he had been residing for a little over a week was comfortable. He couldn't find anything to complain about the room itself. The staff were friendly and competent.

The first week of filming had gone better than he could have hoped for. Jessica had taken the role of Elizabeth and added a layer of innocent sweetness that Lauren had never quite mastered. The on screen chemistry between Jessica, Ryan, and Chris practically sparked in every scene they shared.

Having the talent and the highly capable film crew made his job as director easier.

He should be able to sleep.

He turned his head toward the empty spot Amanda would have taken if she were here with him. Thomas was amazed that he actually was sleeping on the side of the bed he usually took when with her. Marriage had changed him in ways that were surprising him with this separation.

His day had been spent with multiple calls and trying not to be caught smiling too often when she sent a text message. He had known beforehand how much he loved her. He just hadn't expected this deep of an effect she had on him.

He rubbed his hands over his face and reached for the phone. He had called her earlier that evening, intending that to be the last he talked to her for the day.

He hesistated and called her once more.

After two rings he heard her voice.

"I almost called you." Amanda admitted with a laugh. "Something about trying to fall asleep makes me miss you even more."

He felt his body relax hearing her voice. "I'm experiencing the very same problem. One more week to get through before you are able to join me."

Amanda pulled the covers up around her. Her smile deepened with the thought of seeing him again. "About that,"

"Amanda," his voice held a hint of warning. "You are still coming in a week, aren't you?"

"I am." She quickly replied. She debated on telling him she could come tomorrow for a few days more or to simply surprise him.

With the king and queen expressing a need to return to the palace to begin preparations for the coronation before traveling to Ramsford, many of the guests were returning to their estates for a short break or traveling on to visit others. The last of her guests that were still at St Orella were those closest to her.

"We'll leave in the morning and help Bertrand prepare for the ball." Maxwell explained with a grin over dinner. "I know you're going to join Thomas, just be sure to be at Ramsford the night of the ball."

She decided she couldn't keep it to herself. "I'll be able to come tomorrow."

Thomas sat up in bed. "You will?" He looked around, thinking of all he wanted to do before she arrived. "That's wonderful. I thought the court was remaining at St Orella until the next event."

Her cheeks hurt from smiling at how happy he sounded. "The king had to cut his visit short. Once he and Regina left, everyone else was free to do what they wanted."

"I don't think I've ever been more happy to have a schedule being changed." He smiled at her laughter. "When do you think you'll be here?"

"Hopefully by late afternoon." She checked the time. "I should probably let you go. We both have an early morning tomorrow."

After telling her how much he loved her and hearing her say the same, he relaxed in his bed. Knowing she was coming made him more excited about tomorrow's scenes. He couldn't wait to show her how her story was coming along.

************

Cormery Isle, Cordonia...

Lord Thurston Vancoeur strode down the halls his ancestors had proudly once walked. His typical disapproving expression had hardened. The sounds of tinkling laughter could be heard coming from the back courtyard.

His son, Neville, had invited Tariq and that actress he was with for a visit.

Thurston knew why his son persisted in allowing such a low creature into his home. Neville hoped he would give in to the absurd idea that Lauren Benefield could one day be the Countess of Cormery Isle.

Thurston knew his precious wife, the Marquis of Niort's only daughter, would roll over in her grave if their only son tied his life to someone so beneath him.

He couldn't allow it to happen.

As he directed his steps toward the jovial group, his younger daughter intercepted his path.

"Good afternoon Father." Blair greeted warmly. Her smile turned to a sneer as she glanced at the courtyard doors open. "I know as the lady of our house that I should be out there playing the hostess." Her hands firmed into fists. "But I refuse to associate with that woman."

Thurston took her hand between his and gently patted it. "I understand, my dear. A lady should never have to demean herself to such a task."

Blair lifted her chin. "I knew you would understand. Neville was demanding that I retrieve Arabella and visit with Lord Tariq and his harlot." Her eyes flashed with anger. "As if I would expose our little sister to such a person!"

Thurston felt his own temper simmer past boiling. "Quite right. You and Arabella do not have to join them for anything other than dinner."

Blair pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you." Her bottom lip quivered as she glanced back at the viscount who she secretly hoped would choose her to marry. With her father deciding she was too young at nineteen to be in the running as a suitor for Liam, she had been able to keep her dream of marrying Tariq. But now..."If you will excuse me, I will speak to the cook about tonight's menu."

"Of course." Thurston watched with pride as his daughter left with her head held high. Both his daughters were the image of his late wife and just as mannerly as she had been.

His son had once been a source of pride. Thurston could only come to the conclusion that this fascination he had developed for an actress had to be some form of temporary madness. An illness.

And he was determined to cure his son of such.

"Father." Neville greeted with a smile. "I was just sharing with Ms. Benefield about our extensive wine cellar. She expressed an interest in seeing it. Perhaps you would be open to giving her a tour."

Thurston poured himself a cup of tea and sat down at the head of the table. "A proper lady wouldn't be interested in such." He leveled a steely glare on the young woman. "Unless she suffers with the effects of drunkenness."

Lauren narrowed her eyes. She managed to keep her voice sweet while dealing with the man that stood in her way in possibly gaining a higher titled husband. "In America, proper ladies tour such to admire one's cultured knowledge."

Thurston hmphed. "There doesn't exist such a woman in America."

"Father," Neville tried to laugh off the insults as a joke. "You shouldn't tease Ms. Benefield so. Whatever will she think of Cormery Isle's hospitality?"

"I don't care what she thinks." Thurston forcibly set his teacup down and stood up. "When have Vancoeur's ever worried what those of lesser standing thought?" He stormed back into the house.

Neville chased after him.

Lauren hit Tariq's arm. He jumped and stared at her in question.

"Why didn't you tell that old man off?" She screeched. "He insults me every time he sees me!"

"Lord Thurston has been a second father to me since I was a child." Tariq explained. "I'm not going to tell him how to act in his own home."

Lauren fought against screaming at him. She needed to string him along until Neville made her a definite offer of marriage. She refused to leave Cordonia without a noble title.

Seeing how well Thomas had done for himself by marrying a rich duchess and how well his new film was going, she could not return to Hollywood as the one who not only walked away from what was sure to be the most critically acclaimed film of the year but also to have lost out on two noblemen.

She had already irritated Viktor by not immediately returning to Hollywood. He would find a way to punish her for deciding to remain for another man. He probably would keep the best parts from going to her until he believed she had learned her lesson. She couldn't lose Tariq now. He was her only chance if everything else fell apart.

"I'm sorry darling." She cooed, kissing his cheek. "I didn't sleep well last night and I am taking it out on you." She fluttered her eyelashes. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"I always do." He mumbled. Tariq couldn't help but think of how often he was having to either beg for forgiveness or accept her apology.

"I think I will retire to my chambers for a nap." Lauren said in a practiced cultured tone. She squeezed his hand and left him alone.

Tariq let out a deep sigh. He reached for the teapot and let it clatter back on the sterling silver tray when Blair appeared.

"Mind if I join you?" She asked with a shy smile.

He stood up and pulled a chair out for her. His smile appeared when she fixed him a fresh cup and offered him some of the tiny cakes she knew he loved.

"It's wonderful to have you back with us." Blair told him. "I've missed seeing you each evening. No man dresses as well as you."

He puffed up a bit at her compliment. "I've missed being here with you as well. No place holds such a special place in my heart like Cormery Isle."

She reached for his hand. "You've always belonged with us."

***************

"Father!" Neville said harshly once the study door was closed. "How dare you speak to Lauren like that?"

"Watch your tone!" Thurston snapped. "You forget who you are addressing."

Neville bowed his head in repentance. "Forgive me." He cleared his throat once again. He adored his father and had always had his approval on any endeavor he set out for. He didn't understand why this was not going as all the others had.

Thurston's anger eased somewhat at his son standing before him, properly chastised. "My boy, you will one day inherit my title and all that entails. You and your sisters are what Cormery Isle is. You must always represent it in the best possible fashion."

"That is what I am trying to do." Neville sat down when his father motioned toward the leather chairs by the fireplace. He looked up at his sire. "Lauren has learned how to conduct herself in our social circles."

"Conduct herself." Thurston snorted in derision. "Neville, she is an actress. Her entire life is nothing but a lie. Vancoeur's never shy from the truth no matter how much it might hurt another. That woman might have her hooks in Tariq, much to my dismay, but she will not get them in you."

Neville dropped his head in his hands. "Father, I want her."

Thurston didn't attempt to comfort him. He needed to make him understand. "Then have her."

Neville's head jerked up with hope. "Father! You mean--"

"I mean that if you want her so badly that you are willing to turn your back on your heritage, your family, and your duty; then by all means go to her. Marry her. Have a number of children." His eyes narrowed as his tone turned to one of ice. "But you will never be welcomed to Cormery Isle again. I will make certain you never inherit anything that was once rightfully yours."

Neville mouth hung open in disbelief. "Father, surely--"

"That woman will never hold the title your dear mother once had. I would never insult my beloved’s memory in such a manner." He roared. "And for my son to even contemplate such makes me wonder where I have failed as your father."

Neville stared at him as the weight of his words broke his will. "I--I didn't think of it in that light. I beg your forgiveness."

Thurston refused to be swayed until he heard his son say the words.

Neville stood up and looked his father in the eye. "I will never marry Lauren Benefield."

Thurston eased his stance and pulled his son into a brief hug. "Good lad. I knew you were a reasonable and honorable man." He clapped him on the back. "Once Liam chooses his queen, there will be a number of ladies that we will choose amongst to be the next Countess."

Neville nodded. "I've already been considering some that Liam doesn't spend anytime with."

Thurston beamed at him. "Well done, my boy. Let's make a list and see which lady could bring the most to Cormery Isle."

************

Novosel, Cordonia...

Amanda stepped out of her car and looked around at the number of cameras and film crew rushing about. Jessica and Ryan were in their period costumes, practicing lines while eating. Holly was speaking to a few of the cameramen and Addison was stitching a rip in one of Ryan's jackets.

She searched the crowd for Thomas as she walked closer.

"Hold it right there." A man blocked her path. "This is a closed set." His eyes widened when he realized who she was. “Sorry Mrs. Hunt! I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“That’s alright, Mr.--” she said.

“Just Toby.” He replied with a relieved smile.

“Nice to meet you Toby.” She searched around him. “Any chance you know where my husband is?”

“I saw him go into his trailer.” he told her. Toby pointed toward one set away from the others.

“Thank you so much for your help, Toby.” She smiled at him and hurried off.

She nodded toward some of the crew that called out greetings and then knocked on Thomas’s door. When she heard him call out to come in, she opened it and stepped inside.

“Have you by chance seen a handsome director roaming about?” Amanda asked.

Thomas turned around and swept her into his arms. “Hello.”

“Please sir,” she teased, sliding her arms up his chest. “I must find my husband. I don’t have time for flirtations.”

He chuckled while kissing her. “I’ve missed you and, surprisingly, your sense of humor.”

“I knew you loved me.” She kissed him once more. “It’s so nice to be back in your arms.”

He softly groaned. “As much as I want to keep you to myself, I also want you to see how the film is going.” He gave her one more tender kiss then took her back outside.

Thomas gave her a tour around the set, explaining the different scenes they had filmed amongst the rolling countryside. He paused near one of the viewing areas and showed her the dailies from the previous days.

"Amanda!" Addison hopped up and ran over to hug her. "How did it go after we left? Lauren didn't try anything did she?"

"Not at all. She has been on her best behavior." Amanda explained. She smiled when Thomas pulled her back against his side. "How's filming going?"

"Great." Holly hugged her. "We're working on the scene where Arthur has to tell Elizabeth that he has to leave Cordonia."

"We're taking a break." Addison added. "Thomas wants to film it as the sun sets."

Amanda smiled up at him. "To represent the end of their romance."

"Exactly." He said with a soft smile.

He guided her back toward his trailer. "I just recalled that there are a few pieces of dialogue I want to have you look over."

Amanda stepped inside and let out a laugh when he pulled her into a heated kiss.

"I thought you needed me to look at something." She teased.

Thomas chuckled against her lips. "You're looking at what I need you to."

***************

The next few days seemed to go by quickly, too quickly in the pair’s opinion. Thomas and Amanda worked in the evenings on the occasional rewrites while enjoying being near one another once more.

On their last evening together before he moved the filming to St Orella and she was to journey on to Ramsford, he ended the day's filming early and refused to look at the script anymore. He explained to her that he only wanted them to concentrate on each other.

The couple decided to spend what time they had left together doing what they enjoyed most. They ordered room service and cuddled up in bed together, watching old movies.

"Another week." Thomas muttered, kissing her neck. "Then the week of the coronation."

"And then I can be with you the rest of the time." Amanda added while turning to meet his lips. "I can't wait until we have nothing to worry about except completing the movie."

"I think you and I should lock ourselves in one of our homes after the premiere for at least three months." He sank into her embrace when she kissed him. "Get away from everyone and everything."

Amanda nodded while unbuttoning his shirt. "Like Olivia's cabin but with no work looming over us and no problems left to resolve."

"And no drug induced kidnapping or inescapable wilderness." He teased while pulling her shirt off.

Her laughter was smothered by his thought stealing kiss. "I wish you could go to Ramsford with me."

"I do too." He murmered as he kissed down her neck. "The only reason I’m not is because I want to finish the ballroom scenes before I return to the palace with you."

***************

Cormery Isle, Cordonia...

Lauren sneaked through the dark and softly knocked on Neville's door. A slight frown formed at the silence she heard when she pressed her ear to the wood.

"What are you doing?"

Lauren spun around while clutching her silk robe closed. "You startled me!"

Arabella narrowed her eyes at her. The teenager had a way of making others feel incredibly uncomfortable under her suspicious gaze. "Must I repeat myself? What are you doing at my brother's door?"

Lauren narrowed her own eyes. "Aren't you a little young to be up, wandering the halls?" She tried her best to fluster the girl by talking down to her.

Arabella rolled her eyes. "I'm fifteen, not an infant. Plus I don't wander the halls of my own home. I go specifically from one room to the next for a purpose." She held up a leatherbound book. "The library was tonight's reason."

Lauren glanced at Neville's door. "I am in need of something to drink and hoped your brother was awake and could assist me."

Arabella quirked an eyebrow. "Really? That's the excuse you're going to use?"

"Excuse me?" The actress snapped. "I don't really see where it is any business of yours if--"

"Oh but it is." Arabella replied calmly. "You're in my home. Bothering my brother late at night." She stepped forward and gripped Lauren's arm, yanking her away from Neville's room. "Allow me to not only help you find a drink but also put you where you belong." Her eyes cut to the one who had stolen Tariq from her beloved sister. "I suppose I can't stick you where you truly belong. It wouldn't be fair to our dogs."

Lauren bristled when the insult registered. She shook off the younger woman's hand and stormed back to her room. She slammed the door shut and locked her door.

She couldn't wait to let Lord Neville know that if he wanted her then he would have to do something about his horrid family.

****************

St Orella, Cordonia...

Amanda finished packing her things as Thomas unpacked his in their bedroom. He paused to watch her as she searched through her ballgowns. Each one she pulled out, she decided against.

He quietly came up behind her and pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

She turned her head and kissed him. "I need to hurry." She murmered half heartedly when he pulled her toward their bed.

"I know." He whispered against her lips.

"You're horrible." She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I need to already be on the road to Ramsford."

"Maxwell and Nadia will understand if you're late." His lips skimmed her ear. "Or don't show up at all."

She bit her lip. "I'll need an excuse."

He smiled against her neck. "You didn't feel well enough to make the long drive out there."

Amanda shivered when he bit down on her earlobe.

"Chill bumps and flushed skin." He murmered while his fingers lightly brushed her heated skin. "Flu symptoms if ever I saw any." He smiled a touch wickedly at her. "I would be a terrible husband to allow my wife to risk her health and those attending the ball by allowing her to leave the house, much less the bed."

She pressed her lips to his. "I guess you better make the call." Her teasing smile flashed. "You do have more theatrical experience than I do."

He took her phone and gently nudged her back on the bed. "My pleasure."

#thomas hunt x amanda #rcd thomas hunt #thomas hunt #and then i met you

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mitchiemoo · 4 years

Text

Close Up-Part 2 (Johnny Joestar x Reader)

Summary: You are an upcoming, young actress, starring in your first major film. For publicity, the studio suggests you begin a relationship with your co-star, British thespian Diego Brando. Reluctantly, you agree, and soon find yourself at odds with Johnny Joestar, former Hollywood star. After losing his career and the use of his legs, Johnny offers to help you achieve fame but cautions the price. Is it really the fame you want? Or something else?

Warnings: Explicit Language

Word Count: 3,360

Part 1

Dating Diego Brando had its perks.

It had been little more than a month since you and he started dating, long enough for you to acquire a taste for the finer things wealth and status could provide. Expensive restaurants, glamorous parties, exclusive events, it seemed like nothing was too good for Diego. At first, it was overwhelming. Before every important event, he lavished you with elegant dresses and designer shoes. You tried to protest but Diego insisted, claiming you were now a part of his carefully cultivated public image. “All they know is what we choose to show them, darling.” He said. “They’ll never know the real you.”

If you were honest, sometimes it felt like you barely knew the real Diego. You were supposed to be his girlfriend, but you knew nothing about his personal life, his hobbies outside of acting, or even his family. In front of the cameras, he played the role of doting boyfriend so well that you almost forgot this was all part of some publicity scheme. His charisma as an actor was undeniable but as a person, he was cold and distant, sometimes even awkward.

At first, it seemed your fear of being defined by this relationship was coming to fruition. Just a day after the fundraiser, pictures of you and Diego together appeared all over social media with articles like “Brando’s Mystery Girl” and “Who is she?” Your Instagram followers practically doubled over night and when you walked onto set that day, a pair of studio executives greeted you enthusiastically. Apparently, the studio heads were very pleased with your relationship and commented on how smart you looked together. You had smiled politely and thanked them before heading to your dressing room to get into costume.

This was supposedly for your benefit, but it felt like you were reduced to glorified arm candy. On the red carpet, you’d smile at the cameras and feign interest in what Diego was saying to the reporters as you clung to his arm. Occasionally, they’d ask what designer you were wearing or how filming was going, but mostly you were ignored in favor of your British boyfriend. So you were ecstatic when the studio managed to book you a solo interview with talk show host, Panacotta Fugo. This was your chance to really show off your own charming personality and cement yourself as a rising star.

The ultimate “fuck you” to Johnny Joestar.

You hadn’t forgotten his hurtful words and arrogant demeanor. At least Diego dressed up his arrogance with politeness and snark. Johnny clearly didn’t care who he insulted. His words echoed in your mind every time you practiced your lines or smiled into a camera and it made you hunger for fame more than the vintage wine and stately mansions ever could. Diego had whetted your appetite, Johnny stoked it into full blown hunger.

You really hoped you didn’t run into him tonight. It was Steven Steel’s 54th birthday party and Diego received an invite, courtesy of Steven’s young wife, Lucy. Even if Johnny was there, the mansion and its crowd were so large you could probably hide in plain sight and never cross paths. That was one thing you hated about these Hollywood parties. It felt like you weren’t nearly famous enough to mingle with most of the people there. Small talk was painfully awkward, and most of the time you were happy to let Diego dominate the conversation.

Currently, you were standing in the living room of the Steel mansion, clutching a cold drink and listening to Diego passionately explain the differences between a utahraptor and a velociraptor to a very confused Lucy Steel. Frankly, you weren’t sure how the subject of dinosaurs came up or where Diego learned so much about them. You zoned out partway through the conversation. It was hot and loud, and your feet hurt from standing all night. At least you weren’t in heels. For a leading man, Diego was shorter than average and very self-conscious about his height. All the shoes he bought you were either flats or had a two-inch heel. Not that you minded. Especially when you went to events like these.

Lucy, bless her, seemed to notice your red face and tired eyes. “Oh, are you alright?” She asked, touching your arm. “You look faint, do you need to sit down?”

You nodded weakly. “Yes, please. It’s very hot in here.”

Diego wrapped an arm around your waist. “Do you need to go home, love?”

“No, I’ll be fine if I can sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” You croaked out.

Lucy tugged you out of his embrace and led you through the crowds and down a maze of hallways. How could someone live in a place so large? Did she ever get lost? It was just her and her husband, why did they need so much space? What if you couldn’t find your way back to the party? She turned, suddenly, and pulled you into a small sitting room with two couches, a glass coffee table, and some paintings on the light-colored walls.

“Please, sit down. I’ll let in some air.” Lucy said, scurrying over to one of the windows to the right. She was so sweet.

You sat down on one of the couches and pressed your glass against your forehead. Why did people stop carrying fans with them? “You don’t mind if I take off my shoes, do you?” You asked her.

“No, not at all. I took mine off ages ago.” Had she? You weren’t paying attention. Most of your mental energy was diverted to acting like you were enjoying yourself. You set your glass down on the table and slid out of your shoes. Much better.

“Stay here as long as you need to. I have to get back to the party.” Lucy said, apologetically. "It was nice meeting you."

“Oh, I’m sure Diego’s dying to finish his paleontology lecture.” You told her.

She failed to suppress her giggles. “He’s so devoted to you. You two make such a good couple.”

You resisted the urge to scoff and forced out a smile. Sometimes you forgot how your relationship appeared to others. Wholesome and loving, far from the pragmatic business deal it really was. You’d take it as a compliment. “Thank you, we’re very happy together.”

Lucy disappeared around the corner and you were left alone. You sighed and tucked your legs up underneath you. No one told you fame was lonely. It was isolating, being on the brink of stardom, knowing this role could make or break your career depending on how you marketed yourself. Were you really ready to tackle this interview all on your own? You’d been telling yourself this was what you wanted but would you know what to do? You desperately needed guidance, someone who understood what it was like.

“Oh, hey.”

You looked up and locked eyes with the last person you wanted to see tonight.

Johnny Joestar.

Shit.

Who invited him? Your heart pounded in your chest and suddenly the room felt like it was 100 degrees. Out of all the rooms in this place, he had to pick this one? And how had he managed to sneak up on you like that? A scowl crept onto your face and you moved to pick up your discarded shoes. Time to leave.

“Wait,” He said. “I’ve been lookin’ for you all night. But it’s hard to maneuver crowds in this thing.”

You crossed your arms. “What do you want? To humiliate me again?” You asked. He wouldn’t catch you off guard this time. If he started throwing insults, you’d retaliate with your own. At least, that’s how it went when you thought about it in the shower.

Johnny looked down at his lap and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “About that. I wanted to apologize for what I said at the fundraiser. It was completely out of line and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

Your expression softened a bit. He was…apologizing? You didn’t think someone like Johnny ever apologized. This definitely wasn’t in your shower script.

“I know this doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I’d been drinkin’ beforehand, and Diego brings out the worst in me. Seeing you with him made me mad ‘cuz I think you could do so much better.” He continued.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you basically said I didn’t have ’star material.’”

“You don’t.” He said bluntly. “But you have potential, which is why I wanna help you.”

“I don’t want your help." You stated. "I forgive you for what you said at the fundraiser so don’t insult me further by saying I can’t do this on my own.”

“I’m not insulting you. I’m speaking from experience. Right now, you’re in a dangerous spot. What happens if Diego breaks up with you tomorrow? You haven’t established yourself yet so say good-bye to the fancy parties and red-carpet events. You’d lapse back into obscurity.” Johnny said.

“I’m more than just arm candy, you know. Next week I have an interview and Diego won’t be there.” You told him.

“Who’s it with?” Johnny asked.

“Uh, some guy named Panacotta Fugo.” You replied. “I mean, he’s not exactly Mariah Bastet but he has a decent following.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “Ain’t he on that really intellectual show where they talk about ‘the deeper meaning’ of films? I heard the guy’s a real Jekyll and Hyde. Super nice one minute and the next he’s rippin’ out your throat for using the word ‘less’ instead of ‘fewer.’”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. I can be very charming and intellectual.”

“See, this is what I mean.” Johnny said. “Doesn’t matter how charming you are. Interviews aren’t like acting, you don’t get a script. If you freeze under pressure or can’t think of a good answer, you’ll flounder around up there and make a fool of yourself.”

“How hard can it be? It’s a tv interview, not a master’s dissertation. All I have to do is answer a few questions about the movie, tell a few little stories, and look nice.” You knew what you were doing. You'd seen plenty of interviews before.

Johnny sighed and reached inside his dark blue suit jacket. He pulled out a pen and a paper napkin and started writing.

“What’re you doing? I don’t want your autograph.” You said.

Johnny shook his head and muttered something under his breath. He returned the pen to his pocket and wheeled over to you. “Here.” He held out the napkin. “It’s my phone number. If you change your mind, call me. No judgement.”

You searched his face. It was still set in a hard scowl but nothing in his expression suggested any sort of malice towards you. His eyes practically pleaded for you to take it. Was this his way of making up for his behavior at the fundraiser? A part of you wanted to accept. Johnny had been in the business a long time; he knew what he was doing. But your pride wouldn’t let you accept. You wouldn't be satisfied with success unless you were the sole reason for it.

“I said I don’t need your help. Keep it.” You said, hardening your expression.

“Christ, woman, take the damn napkin.” He replied. “I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna make things right between us.”

“Fine.” You snatched the napkin from his grasp and grabbed your shoes off the floor. You couldn’t be in the same room as this man anymore. “The interview is at 8 o’clock Saturday night, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll be watching. Good luck.”

You stood up and brushed past Johnny. His eyes followed you out of the room, shoes in one hand, napkin clenched in the other. You weren’t sure whether to burn it or trash it. Burning it would be more dramatic, but Johnny himself belonged in the trash. You weren’t a charity case and didn’t Johnny himself say no one in the industry really cared about you. He’d eat his words. Or you’d eat yours.

You were surprised to learn the green room wasn’t actually green.

Instead, the walls were an off white, beige color and the floor tiles were made of linoleum. You were seated on one of the two black leather couches, anxiously fiddling with the plain gold bracelet around your wrist and bouncing your leg. There were a variety of drinks available, both hot and cold, and although you were thirsty, you didn’t want to miss your cue to go on-stage because you were in the bathroom.

Your eyes were glued to the tv screen in the corner of the room. It was tuned into commercials now which meant you were due to go on at any minute. Despite reassurances from both your agent and Fugo himself, your stomach was tying itself in knots. You weren’t intimidated by Fugo, who was very proper and polite despite his eccentric fashion sense and scholarly demeanor, nor were you worried about the crowd. You were worried about yourself. This was all you. You couldn’t just look pretty on Diego’s arm and let him lead the conversation. If you came off as aloof or empty headed, nothing would save you.

“We’re ready for you, miss.” One of the stagehands poked his head in and beckoned for you to follow.

With a shaky sigh, you stood up, glanced in the mirror on the opposite wall, and smoothed the creases of your dark skirt. Just breathe, you told yourself. This was no different from being on set with Diego and the director. There were just a few more cameras and a whole lot of extras.

You waited just off stage as the studio lights turned on and Fugo faced the cameras. “Welcome back, everyone.” He said coolly, adjusting his collar and straightening his tie. “Our next guest is a Hollywood newcomer. Starring alongside Diego Brando in one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year, please welcome…” Fugo announced your name to the crowd and the stagehand nudged you out onto stage.

You were greeted by a round of applause as you made your way across the stage to the empty armchair beside Fugo. He greeted you with a small smile and a strong handshake. “It’s so nice to have you here.” He said.

“Thank you for having me today.” You replied, settling into the chair.

“So, this is your first major movie role, correct?” You nodded. “How are you dealing with all the new attention? What’s it been like for you?”

You bit your lip as you tried to formulate an answer. “Oh, it’s been difficult to adjust but I’m lucky to be surrounded by supportive people.”

“That’s important. You need people like that to keep you grounded.” Fugo shuffled the papers on his desk and you visibly relaxed. If all the questions were this easy, you could totally handle this. “Phantom Blood is one of my favorite novels. Robert E. O. Speedwagon weaves such a compelling narrative and Norisuke Higashikata is such a revolutionary director, I’m very excited to see how he’s going to adapt the pervasive themes of social inequality and classism. Can you tell us about that?”

What.

You thought this was a typical Victorian love story with supernatural elements. Classism? Social inequality? Sure, Elena’s love interest, Dorian, is a poor tailor who leaves her to seek fortune in India and his rival, Jonah, is a wealthy merchant who deals in exotic goods, but you certainly weren't aware of any major societal commentary. There were vampires, for Christ's sake.

Your silence prompted Fugo to clear his throat and ask another question. “Are you a fan of the book too?”

You laughed, nervously. “Well, I was supposed to read the book in high school, but it was super long, so I just used SparkNotes to pass the quizzes.”

Dead silence. Your heart sank and the laughter died in your throat. Why wasn’t anyone laughing? Usually anecdotes like that got a huge laugh out of the crowd and showed how endearing and relatable you were. This had the complete opposite effect. Now you looked like a vapid, lazy, slacker who didn’t care about the source material at all.

Fugo looked genuinely offended. “You’ve never read the book?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Well, I, uh.” You tried to stutter out an explanation. “Th-the, um, writing was hard to follow, and the author kept going off on these weird tangents that didn’t have anything to do with the plot.”

“Those ‘tangents’ are part of the stream of consciousness narrative that Speedwagon as an author is so known for.” Fugo stated. “How are you supposed to faithfully portray Elena as a character if you haven’t read the source material?”

Your heart was pounding in you ears and you felt sick to your stomach. Fugo was making you feel like a complete idiot and you were proving him right. What were you even supposed to say? You couldn’t bullshit or make something up, he’d know. You took a deep breath and swallowed. Calm down. Stuttering and blurting out incomplete sentences would only make things worse. “As an actress,” you started. “I feel like an adaptation of any work should be able to stand on its own without having to access the source material. It should be judged by its own merit as a film, not by how well it adapts the book.”

You wrung your hands together in your lap as you watched the gears in Fugo’s head turn. “Of course, changes will have to be made.” He said. “But at what point does it cease to be an adaptation and instead take on a different identity? If the characters have the same names but wildly different personalities, can they really be considered the same characters?”

“I-I don’t know.” You were practically shamed into silence.

Fugo was still talking. “Say, if you wanted to adapt a Shakespeare play, let’s say Macbeth, and instead of being strong-willed and clever, Lady Macbeth was a passive character who wasn’t invested in her husband’s plot to take over Scotland or he was a content courtier with no ambitions.” Suffice to say, you hadn’t read that book either. “Isn’t your co-star, Diego Brando, a Shakespearean trained actor? What would he think?”

He was probably enjoying this. You could practically see him propped up in his bed, wearing a smoking jacket and a smug look on his face. He was probably drinking some expensive red wine that cost more than your rent and the next time he saw you; he’d chastise you for going off script like this. Diego claimed you weren’t ready for something like this when you’d told him but said he wouldn’t stop you from doing it if you were determined. Maybe you should've listened...

Tears welled up in your eyes. No, you wouldn’t cry. Not on camera. But the lump in your throat was right there and if you answered, you knew you’d lose your composure. Hadn’t you been humiliated enough? You just wanted to go home and die.

Your saving grace came in the form of one of the producers. He turned Fugo’s attention away from you and pointed at his watch.

His mood changed so fast it gave you whiplash. “Time for a commercial break everyone. Our next guest will be on…”

As soon as the lights dimmed, you rushed off stage and back to the green room to grab your things. That was a train wreck. A complete mess. You sneaked out the back door and hailed a cab. The tears were falling freely now, and the cab driver gave you a sympathetic look as you choked out your address. At that moment, you were questioning your whole career.

You reached into your purse and fished out a tissue. You went to wipe at the tears before you noticed how thick it was. It was a napkin and there was writing on it. Oh. You completely forgot about that. In blue ink was a number and a name.

202-555-0797

Johnny Joestar

You swallowed your pride and dialed the number.

Tumblr doesn’t seem to like me. Maybe it’s because I’m new but my posts never seem to show up under the tags. Oh well. I update this story on Ao3 every Friday night if you wanna check me out over there. Thanks for reading!

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #johnny joestar x reader #diego brando x reader #johnny joestar #diego brando #jjba x reader #mitchie's writing

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klymilark · 4 years

Text

Sore: Chapter 2

First Chapter

CW: Swearing, mentions of sexual assault

Word count: 1872

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Kaye woke up from her slumber in a sweat. She’s always had nightmares when moving, but it seems like a new method of torture has been introduced into her brain. One specifically related to this move. She calms herself down, and heads to the kitchen to put coffee on. Once the coffee’s done, she goes out to the back patio to have a cigarette. She’s been trying to quit, and has been mostly successful. Dreams like that, however, just fuck with her in quite a few ways, so she keeps a pack around. After her cigarette is done, Amie walks outside, and sits near her.

“Bad night?” Amie asks

“Yeah. Wasn’t worse than anything you’ve heard, but definitely a new one.” Kaye responds.

“Ahh, that’s not good.” Amie says.

“You’re telling me. Although, I do still feel like I’ve slept, so that’s a plus.” Kaye says with a moderate tone of sarcasm.

“You always do. Excited to see the condo?” Amie asks, switching the subject.

“Yes! The fact that I can afford to buy is wonderful, too. Gonna be nice to be able to rip the carpet up instead of just having to deal with it.” Kaye says, bouncing up and down lightly.

“Woah. Did you just act excited?! Who are you, and what have you done with my Kaye?” Amie asks, genuinely shocked at the display of excitement. In all of the years they’ve known each other, Amie has not once known Kaye to show any kind of emotion beyond neutral.

“Huh. I guess so? This is weird.” Kaye responds, also genuinely confused at her willingness to show the emotions. That’s something she’s always struggled with.

Amie giggles and says, “Maybe it’s the dress.”

Kaye looks down, and realizes that she is still wearing the dress she went to bed with last night. Her face then proceeds to turn several shades of red, and you could swear a few shades of purple mixed in at some points. Amie points this out through a very poorly hidden laugh, which only serves to make the problem worse. After another 20 minutes or so of Amie poking fun at Kaye for showing emotion for the first time, Don steps out.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Don asks Kaye.

“Oh, yeah. Let me change into something more appropriate for heavy lifting. I’ll be ready in ten minutes tops.” Kaye responds, downing her coffee.

“No need to rush, I was just asking.” Don says.

Kaye runs out to the truck, and grabs a pair of canvas pants, and a flannel shirt. For some reason, they don’t seem to fit quite as well today as they did a few days ago. Must just be the trip. Kaye then runs up to the box truck, and gets in. As she waits for Don to get in his car, Amie starts knocking on her driver side window. Kaye opens the door.

“I think you forgot something” Amie says, holding the dress out.

“No, it’s yo-” Kaye starts.

“Take it. It’s yours. You love it, and you definitely need it more than I do.” Amie says, cutting her off.

“But-” Kaye starts.

“No. Buts. It’s yours.” Amie says.

Kaye grabs the dress through the window, and puts it in the passenger seat. She then jumps down from her seat, and hugs Amie as tight as she can. This girl has been nothing but wonderful to her, and it’s about time she starts showing some appreciation for it. As the hug stops, Amie smiles. Don comes out, they get in their cars, and leave. Amie stayed behind, because she had some cleaning to do.

They pulled up to Kaye’s condo. It was a first floor unit, which she picked out primarily for the fairly easy sound proofing she could do. She didn’t plan to get very loud, but you never know where life will take you. Doubly so when everything is about to change.

Before they start moving anything, they decide to walk in to tour the place. Kaye hadn’t seen the place, and she’d been trusting Amie’s word about how well it would fit. From what Amie said, it would be darn near perfect. The living room was large enough that her computer could fit in the corner without obstructing too much of the room, and it had a connected half bathroom. The master bedroom was large enough to fit a four poster bed, which wasn’t there yet, but would be one day. The master bathroom had a corner tub that could definitely fit Kaye’s height, as well as a separate stall shower. Finally, the spare bedroom would definitely fit all of the various implements and furniture Kaye planned. It was perfect!

Kaye and Don began unpacking. She didn’t have much, so it only took a solid hour. Kaye moved most of the boxes to the rooms the contents had belonged in, as did Don.

“Hey, Kaye, where do the boxes that just have a D on them go?” Don asked

“Oh, just throw them in the spare bedroom. I’ll have to unpack everything there, since I’m gonna be kind of particular about where everything goes.” Kaye responded.

“Alright!” Don said.

As Don said that, though, the box he was carrying burst through the bottom. What looked like a set of mountain climbing gear, plus a few other odds and ends came crashing to the floor. Don’s focus shifted to one item in particular, though. Settled near the top of the pile were a pair of very fuzzy white cat ears. They had barrettes on them for attaching to the head, bells, and ribbons on them. Don giggled a bit to himself, which drew Kaye’s attention to the mess.

“Whatcha doin’?” Kaye asks, leaning into the bedroom from the hallway.

As she stood there, her mind started racing. Don didn’t know what she liked to do in her spare time, and this wasn’t the way she was hoping he’d find out. It’d be one thing if Amie told him, but this?! Almost 500 feet of rope falling on the floor with cat ears smack on top. Right in plain view. How is she going to cover this up? She really doesn’t feel up to the conversation right now, and she’d rather not have to go through with it until way later. Shit shit shit! Shit!

“What’s all of this for?” Don said.

Kaye, trying her best to maintain her composure externally, and doing a remarkable job given the night she had, and the amount of heavy shit was just moved.

“I… was in theater in college.” Kaye said.

“I didn’t know your college had a theater program.” Don responds, puzzled.

“They don’t! It was a local thing for college-aged kids.” Kaye says, grasping for straws

“Interesting,“ Don says, contemplating whether to believe this story or not, “You’ll have to show me a video at some point.”

“They didn’t really allow video recording a lot of the time, and I wasn’t in it for that long.” Kaye says, realizing that her story sounds less and less plausible, “Plus I mostly did lighting work. I only had one on-stage performance.”

Really? That’s the best she could come up with? He’s gonna know.

“That’s too bad, but not too surprising. You were always better with technical stuff than the arts.” Don says.

How the hell did he buy that? That was the single stupidest excuse Kaye had ever heard from anyone, much less said. She guesses that her friend just trusts her, or at least understands that this is a part of herself she isn’t quite ready to share yet.

“So, that looks like all of it’s sorted. Want to grab a few chairs?” Don asks.

“S-sure. I’ll grab the mead.” Kaye responds.

She goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of the mead she brought with her. It was a dry one that had been aged for about a year before being shipped across the country in the back of a box truck in a fairly big hurry. While she was doing that, Don texted Amie and asked if she wanted to join them. She didn’t, as she was just settling in for the afternoon. That was code for the bra came off, it’s not going back on, and I’m not leaving the house without it.

“Oh well, looks like it’s just us.” Don says, not too upset.

“From what she said, it seems that you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately.” Kaye says.

“Yeah. She just quit her job, but she’s looking for another. Last one got a bit too crazy for her to want to deal with anymore. Thankfully she should have one soon, since she’s a damn good worker, and she has a good reference with her previous company.” Don says

“Does she?” Kaye asks.

“Yeah. Her direct manager was awesome, it was everyone above him that was bad.” Don responds.

“I definitely know how that feels.” Kaye says, looking down slightly.

“Yeah. Sorry for that, but it’ll hopefully get at least a little better here.” Don responds, rubbing her back.

“Thanks.” Kaye says.

“So, how’d you afford this place, anyway? Seems like it’d be out of your pay range.” Don says, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“One of my previous employers. They did some particularly heinous shit, and I managed to find a lawyer willing to represent it. I didn’t win all that much, comparatively, but it was enough to afford this place. Should be able to get a scrap car while I’m here, too. Outside of that, since the place is paid off, I don’t have to worry about that much. Should be able to afford it working part time, honestly.” Kaye says.

“Ahh, wish I could say the same.” Don says.

“Yeah, I wish I couldn’t, given what I went through with that place. It’s gonna take a while to get over that.” Kaye responds.

“That’s fair. I remember how hard it got for you.” Don responds, “I don’t see why places can’t get over that, it’s not even that b-”

“Everyone thinks I’m a rapist is why they can’t get over it. When someone looks at you and sees nothing but an absolute degenerate, nobody wants to keep you around. I’m honestly shocked you and Amie did, all things considered.” Kaye responds, a little annoyed.

“Honestly, things would be weird without you texting one of us at random times to vent about something. It’s been weird to not have you randomly knock on our doors to hang out and calm down.” Don says with a chuckle.

“Hopefully that’ll start again. I was happiest in those moments. I felt like I was home for the first time.” Kaye responds with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well, welcome home.” Don says, arms outstretched.

Kaye hugs him as tightly as she can, and they stay like that for a few minutes. She cries quite a bit, but he just stands there, just like he always has. He’s been one of the few constants to her life, and she’s very thankful for that.

“So,” Kaye says, breaking off from him, “did you want to grab a game out?”

“Sure.” Don replies.

Chapter 3

Search sbbl on my blog to find the rest of the chapters, as well!

#queer #lgbt #smut #sex cw #swearing cw #sex tw #swearing tw #sbbl

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yaachtynoboat711 · 5 years

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The Plus One

A/N: Allow me to break once more from Fonder to give you all this Oscar fic mini-series (literally two, maybe three chapters). Here’s all the fluff your hearts can handle before I resume with Chapter 7 and 8.1 I know it’s late, but this is for @sonofnjobu ’s WIP FF. I had wisdom teeth taken out last week so I was out of action. This fic is very descriptive and interactive, so please, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): FLUFF, possibly some errors/typos

Sunday mornings— the days of rest and recreation for you and your fiancée Winston. Lately, the two of you would spend half the day planning the wedding with you all’s planner. Sometimes, you and Winston would maybe get up before 10, no later than 11 to lounge around. Yet, this Sunday morning wasn’t like any other Sunday. No ma’am: this Sunday was filled with the preparation and the attendance of the 91st Academy Awards in Los Angeles! You’d been in LA since the week of your Jimmy Kimmel interview for further wedding planning, final Oscar-related consultations, and just a well-needed breather.

Within the past few months, you’d been working on Maryland’s suit lawsuit against the Trump administration. While in California, you’d met with the lawyers responsible for the state’s lawsuit. You and your partners hit the ground running after Christmas break and basically moved into the firm during the government shutdown and the weeks following. Around this time last year, you were face-first in your cases. You’d be damned if you would once again miss the opportunity to be Winston’s plus one for the awards ceremony due to work.

Your phone’s alarm began sounding off at 9:45 a.m. You decided to turn in the night before while Winston attended Common’s pre-Oscar party. It must’ve been Opposite Day. It would be you going out and Winston stayed in. Usually, you’d be snuggled up in your man’s arms sleeping. Instead, you were on your stomach, head to the side and resting on top of your hands. Dead to the world. You did,however, match Wins’ fly and slept in a new gold megabonnet to match his velvet durag (you’d bought him 10-15 new durags for Valentine’s Day). By the time your eyes reluctantly opened, you noticed that he was gone. Before you could curl your lip and whimper, you picked up your phone to find Wins’ text to start you off for the day.

You sat up on your elbows and smiled at the sight of the two white waffle bathrobes staring at you. The longer robe read “Duke” in crimson stitching, while the other read “Abdullah-Duke” in blue stitching. When you got out of bed, you caressed and carefully observed your robe. Baby boy ain’t skimpin’ on the quality of these robes. Ol’ extra ass. You quickly went into the shower, waterproof speaker in hand. From City Girls to Megan Thee Stallion to Kurt Carr and to Broadway soundtracks, your 25-minute shower performance was one for the books. Once you’d finished showering and doing your Oscars skincare routine, you went back into the bedroom to find Winston stretched out on the bed, his gapped grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well, good morning, Mama Bear. That was one helluva performance you put on in there.” He looked you up and down like you were the last oxtail, slowly licking his top lip. “I see somebody likes their new robe.”, Winston complimented as he watched you walk towards him. He re-adjusted his stance so you could straddle his lap.

“Good morning to you,too, Daddy Bear. I don’t like it at all—I love it.”, you said in the crook of his neck as you kissed it repeatedly.

“You ready for today?”

You paused, going through the day’s mental Rolodex of events. “Of course—we’ll be together. You’ve been on an Oscars red carpet, I haven’t. Guide me. Show me your ways, Master Duke.”, you said dramatically. Winston’s deep, almost maniacal laughter sounded in your ear. He stared into your light brown eyes and smiled. Kissing your fivehead, he said, “You’re so dramatic. Of course. I’m excited for tonight...like very excited.” He kissed your ring and then your lips. You cheesed like the spoiled princess you knew you were. The two of you continued to cuddle, which eventually led to your lips finding their way onto his. Just as his curious hand ventured underneath your robe, there was a knock on the hotel suite door. Your head fell back in frustration and you reluctantly got out of Winston’s lap and smoothed your robe out as you walked to the door.

Winston whistled. “I hate to see you go, but I love watching you leave.” He tucked his lip under his top row of teeth.

“Shut yo corny ass up...Gabe.” Your face twisted and you placed an emphatic but playful tone on “Gabe” before sticking your tongue out. You looked through the peephole and opened the door for your assistant Jacqui, your wig stylist Maya Elise, and your makeup artist Alicia (your usual glam artist Justin was out of the country. It was time.

Not long after your glam squad arrived, Winston’s team came trickling in. The last-minute decision to get a two-bedroom suite instead of one was paying off. You and Winston broke off into different rooms and began your transformations.

Two hours and a whole Gillette advertisement later, you were reunited with your big head for lunch. When you emerged from the room, you were taken aback to see your fiance sporting an immaculate low fade. His beard was trimmed just right, enough to know it’d been flourishing in its growth. Ahh, my favorite seat looks like a meal for real. He stood feet from you in his white robe, giving you one of those looks.

As if on cue, your twin sister Farrah knocked on the door.

“Li, I’m so sorry. The one time I try to work on something last-minute, I’m almost an hour late. Where’s your room?”, Farrah said as she tried to catch her breath. She was holding your dress in her signature purple garment bag across her arms.

“ Rah! It’s okay, Boop. First off, slow down. Secondly, I’m over here.”, you pointed your fan behind you indicating where to put the dress. You excused yourself and returned to your room.

Farrah was an up and coming size-inclusive fashion designer and most importantly, your fraternal twin sister. You and Farrah were on completely different ends of the same spectrum. Growing up, you were often fighting her bullies on her behalf because she was a pacifist to the core; a terribly sensitive and somewhat reserved Cancer. She graduated from the same high school as you at 16, two years after you did. She graduated with her BFA in Fashion from North Carolina A&T, where she’d met her would-be husband and star Defensive Lineman for the Philadelphia Eagles, Braxton King. Professionally, She went by Issa Jenae, her two middle names. Though she and her family had just moved to Philadelphia from Boston, she spent most of her time in LA and New York. Nearly 85% of your dresses were designed by your sister. So, naturally, she was elated to design your Oscars dress.

Your sister was hanging the garment bag up on the closet door when you got back in. You were anxious to see the dress, as you had no idea what it was going to look like. When she asked you what you had in mind, you replied that you wanted something that was “subtly Wakandan”. With the help of Black Panther’s costume designer and Oscar nominee Ruth E. Carter, Farrah was able to make your wish shake. One of the advantages of having your twin sister design your dresses was that she’d knew you better than any other designer could. Your off-shoulder gown was fittingly inspired by the Jabari tribe with the purple and gold-threaded triangular pattern on the exterior and the gorgeous interior satin royal purple lining. The slit on the right side showed just enough of your thigh tat. Like the other dresses she’d made for you, it was customary for Farrah to hand-sew an insult of some sorts somewhere into the dress. Today’s insult: whore, sewn into the left side of the slit’s opening.

Being that it was one of the many inside jokes you two shared, you searched tirelessly for the insult. When you finally discovered it, you let out the ugliest sound as began laughing. “Bitch, you play too fuckin’ much. Whore? Really?”, you commented as you began unzipping the dress.

“Why not? I wasn’t the one sleepin’ with half of Black Hollywood, now was I?” You stared at her in pure disbelief. That raggedy bitch just airing your dirty laundry out there, but if the roles were reversed, she’d call your umi with the quickness. She was the true Cancer. “Exactly. I rest my case. Now go change, whore.”

You muttered some dirty words and passive aggressive wishes under your breath as you carefully slipped into your dress. Farrah zipped you up and spun you around to get a better look at her masterpiece of a dress. With your wig on and your shoes and accessories still needing to be put on, your transformation was almost complete.

You toyed with the idea of what kind of accessories you’d wear for tonight’s activities. Simplicity won you over for your picks. You wore three necklaces: a choker-like gold bar with “Khalida” written in Arabic, your everyday rose gold “K”, and your gold zodiac pendant. In addition to your 2nd engagement ring, a local Black jeweler allowed you to wear their oversized black fleur-de-lis cocktail ring (it was Mardi Gras season, after all) for the awards ceremony. In an unusual twist, you decided to wear a bracelet. This bracelet wasn’t just any other bracelet—it was a gold bracelet shaped as scissors (a shameless Us plug for your fiancé).To finish the look, you wore your cowrie shell and gold link anklets. You were ready to fuck that carpet up.

Once Maya-Elise finally laid the baby hairs on your half-up half-down Yaki blowout wig, you walked out of the pits of hair hell one last time. For the first time in history, you were ready before Winston. This never happened. Like...ever. Instead of seeing Winston, you were, however, greeted by your bonus family sitting in the living area of the suite.

“My daughter! Has Winston seen you yet?!”, Mama Cora remarked as you twirled for her.

“No, Coco, because for the first time ever, I’m the first one ready. You know this never happens. Wait—he didn’t dip, did he?”, you asked as you tried to peak at his door.

“Of course not! He wouldn’t ditch the most beautiful woman in Hollywood—not in his right mind,at least. I’d actually have to rough him up.”, Cindy joked.

You and Jacqui walked out to the suite’s main balcony take pictures for the ‘Gram. Six Vogue-worthy pictures later, Jacqui uploaded the photo set with “Dark-haired YAAncé” as the caption. You walked back into the suite to see a handsome thick figure with his back towards you. Winston was so wrapped up in his conversation with his barber Red that he didn’t realize that you’d been outside, yet alone beat him getting ready.

“I wonder what Yaa’s wearing tonight. She mentioned something about there being purple somewhere in the equation? I don’t know...I never know with that gyal of mine.”, he chuckled as he shrugged.

Red’s shoulders bounced in laughter. “I mean...why don’t you ask her? She’s right there.” Red looked around his solid physique to acknowledge your presence.

“How am I going to ask her if she’s not rea—”. Winston turned his head in the direction Red had pointed to. Noticing something different, he whipped around once more, this time, turning his whole body around towards you. The two of you stood maybe two feet apart, taking in each other’s ensembles and beauty.

You were in love with his low fade, especially after the Sisqo phase for the New Years Trip (there could be only one platinum blonde in this relationship). Red got him right for tonight. Then there was the tux. THAT. FUCKING. TUX. It didn’t help that he was already thicker than three-day-old oatmeal. His suit was just fitted enough. In true Winston C. Duke fashion, he couldn’t just wear a basic tux. Nope. Hell nawl. The jacket had white piping on the lapel and the pockets, along with two white bands on either arm. The pants had the white stripe going down either side. Surely, the ancestors wanted to see you cut up over your man and how delicious he was looking. As you undressed him with your eyes, you’d caught his little intentional lip bite and lick. It was subtle enough for only you to catch it.

You fanned yourself harder the closer you got up to him. Shit, that nigga was looking delicious. Winston and everyone else laughed at your speechlessness. Your mouth was totally agape and your head shook. You finally pointed your white coffin-shaped nail at Winston and looked around the room to make sure everyone else was seeing the same meal you were looking at.

“Are you gonna say something, K.D.?”, Winston asked as he closed your mouth and lifted your chin in one smooth motion with one finger.

“Baby...sweetheart...honey bunches...Chris baby…answer me this one question...”, you stammered.

“Yes?”

“Who the fuck told you...TO LOOK THIS FUCKIN’ GOOD?! LIKE, WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT AND THE PRIVILEGE?! THE NERVE OF YOU! THE ABSOLUTE UNMITIGATED GALL, THE NEGROSITY OF YOU, ON THIS 24TH DAY OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH AND 20TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY NATIONAL ANTHEM!”,you gassed, punching your hand and pointing your acrylic nails and clacking them against each other every which way for dramatic emphasis.

Winston doubled over in hysterical laughter, to the point of tears, at your response. “Wow, I must say, it does feel good to be on the receiving end of your gassing. I knew I had to come with it if I was going to be your date tonight. If I haven’t learned anything else about you in all these years of knowing you, it’s that no matter where you’re going, you’re gonna bring it. You’ve kinda forced me to step out of my usual tux zone and further into the world of high fashion...all without knowing what your dress looked like. I think I did pretty good, dontcha think?” He finally closed the gap between the two of you and held your small hands into his big hands.You rolled your eyes to keep from laughing. You weren’t going to give into that Gabe Wilson-level corniness.

“Ehhh...you did aight. Ion know who you tryna dress up for, but you cute or whateva.”, you said nonchalantly.

He lowered his voice to where only you could hear, “I must say that you, my dearest Khalida, the love of my life, are looking sublime right now. I don’t even care what you have in store for the after party look, I just know that in this very moment, I’d have you on this table if everyone weren't here.” You smirked.

“You know, I had the same thought about you when were eating lunch. I’m happy our freakiness is in tandem.”, you paused to look around the room, “Now let’s go and flex for the ‘gram, shall we?”

Everyone crowded both elevators to the lobby to get a full glimpse at the soon-to-be Duke’s. The lighting in the hotel’s courtyard was perfect—a studio could never.

“Alrighty...the lighting’s good here, love birds.”, Jacqui reported as she searched for the perfect late afternoon light. The two of you walked to the exact spot Jacqui deemed appropriate. He insisted that you walk before him, just so he could check you out from the back. He gazed in amazement as he noticed the highlight on your shoulders when the sun kissed them. The purple and gold in your dress both complemented your caramel skin. Winston bit his lip as all the thoughts of sin and lust bombarded his mind. God, you outdid yourself when you created her. He finally caught up to you and promptly rested his arm around your full waist, pulling you into him. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes, cameras or people be damned. As Jacqui caught the candid shots, the two of you whispered nasty sweet nothings into each other’s ear. After spending 20 minutes in the courtyard, Jacqui escorted you and Winston to the hotel’s service entrance, where their SUV was waited patiently for you all. As the two of you looked at the SUV, Winston squeezed your hand. “You ready, Dr. Abdullah?”, he asked as he looked down to you.

“When you are, Mr. Duke.”

The two of you shared three deep breaths before loading into the car, eager to show up and out for the Oscars.

I GOT THE TAGLIST IN THE BACK! @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy-deactivated2 @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @supersizemeplz @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @ljstraightnochaser @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#dukeandthedoctor #winston duke x oc #winston x yaa

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

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(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 7

Éponine

I kept my head down during dinner and tried to recall the day's events. It had all happened in such a blur, I was actually relieved to have seen footage of it on the Report. Unlike most other provinces, my major didn’t ask me to speak as the entire province came to see me off. He probably thought that I was illiterate. Honestly, I had never seen any of the people that stood in front of me. My only job was to go to work and come straight home and none of that left time for socialization. The closest I came to crying was when I finally found the Brouder family, standing close to the stage. Justine gave an excited wave and Victor held Mercer high in the air so I could see. I wanted to keep staring at them. I wanted to imagine that I was their daughter and that they were proud to be sending me to the selection. But I was just their housekeeper, no matter what the styling team did to me wouldn’t change the fact that I would always be the equivalent to trash in a nice dress.

The producers made me out to seem calm and charismatic as I hugged Azelma goodbye. Neither of us cried, since we had done all of that last night. She gave me a piece of red ribbon that she would use to do her hair up during special occasions. I used it to tie my hair back to secure my province’s flower, a rose. After Azelma and I parted ways I caught Justine out of the corner of my eyes.

“Éponine! I have something for you!” She called out as I motioned for the guards to let her through.

In her hands was a small necklace with a golden circular pendant. Upon further inspection, I could see the shape of a rooster.

“This necklace has been in my family for many generations. It’s tradition to give it to a woman on her wedding day, and as much as I would like to be there when you marry that prince I don’t think your parent’s would appreciate that,” she motioned over to me parents, who were waiting impatiently to give their performance.

“The rooster symbolizes vigilance and a rebellious attitude, it’s what we French do best,” she laughed, clasping it around my neck.

“I don’t think the Royal Family would appreciate a princess with a rebellious attitude.”

“No no no, chere! Rebellious meaning to be tough enough to face all the odds in this world and become their master. While you’re in that palace please don’t let the other girls know you’re afraid,” she cried, embracing me.

“Who ever said I was afraid?”

“Exactly!”

And then I was released to my parents who made a miraculous display of all sorts of emotions that were deemed unfit for the Report. The only footage of me from Allens was of me hugging Azelma and Justine. The bulk of Kyran’s commentary was from my interactions with the children at the airport in Angeles. To be honest, I didn’t know we were expected to pose for pictures and sign autographs while we walked toward the car, but when the other girls began doing it I immediately felt behind in the competition. Initially, I thought that I had seen Gavroche in the crowd, which was why I ran so recklessly through the guards. However it turned out to be a young blonde girl with short hair.

“You’re beautiful, Your Highness,” she curtsied and held out a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh well, Your Highness is a title meant for princesses, but I’m no princess,” I blushed, accepting her flowers.

“But you will be! My mommy says “That Six girl will win because the prince will pity her!” The large smile on her face showed that she obviously had no idea what her mother meant.

“Sofia! I’m sorry ma’am she must be confused,” her mother cried as she began to rattle excuses.

“Oh it’s no problem!” I smiled through my teeth at the well dressed, higher caste woman. “Your daughter is so lovely, I would love for her to be able to be a princess today! Would you allow her to walk down the red carpet with me?”

“So you can see that I’m not just some trashy Six,” I thought in my head.

I thought the mother was going to have a heart attack before she could say yes. So little Sofia and I began to walk together, waving gracefully and curtsying. As we approached children I would ask their parents if they could join our little group. By the time we reached the car there were probably a dozen young girls smiling and waving at the media. The Report showed pictures of our big group hug before they ran back to their parents.

“This incredible display of compassion shown by Miss Éponine makes a bold statement,” Kyran’s voice echoed through my head.

It was that bold statement that made me all of the other girl’s immediate enemy. The only girl that bothered to talk to me during dinner was Cosette, a delicate and ladylike Three. She traveled with me to Angeles but had sat next to another girl. I remembered her as the girl my parent’s recognized from their days scamming at the inn. If she recognized me, she must have been an incredible actress because I wouldn’t have known. But I wasn’t going to make her my enemy too. It definitely wouldn’t have helped my case if the other girls knew that I had run into the Prince on my way to watch the Report.

I must have asked my maids for a different pair of shoes at least ten times. I had spent an hour flailing around like a baby animal trying to keep my balance in the black heels I was told to wear for dinner. I even argued that with the long grey evening gown on, no one would be able to see my footwear. However, all three of them insisted that the practice would benefit me so that I wouldn’t fall on my face when I met the Prince. I had done better than I expected doing down the stairs to the first floor, but while trying to catch up with the group, I felt my shoe give way and the heel snap completely in half. I don’t know if it was the fear that I had broken a very expensive looking shoe or the adrenaline from being so far behind the group but I began to run aimlessly down the white marble hallway.

And boom, I ran into the Crown Prince of Illeá like a freight-train. I felt my heart skip a beat, but not out of love at first sight. He was gorgeous of course with his curly, golden hair and rosy cheeks. But his eyes were a fearful ice blue that showed little compassion and mercy. Although, his charming and articulate voice made up for his eyes. For a moment, I didn’t know whether or not I should’ve immediately run towards the girls. I was breaking the rules and whether running into him was an accident or not, he had the right to have me thrown out of the palace.

“Would it be considered rude for a lady to run down the hall in her bare feet?”

If I was going home I guess I was going out with a bang. And to my surprise, he smiled and returned my straightforward tone.

“I believe that would be classified as a capital offense.” I wanted to tell him that I never took him as the type to joke around but I could see the other girls moving further away and I didn’t want to risk getting caught.

And that was my first interaction with the man I was competing to marry. Thankfully he hadn’t pulled me up by my arm and yelled for the guards to put me on a plane home.

Cosette talked with me as we walked back up to our assigned rooms. I learned that she had been adopted by her father when she was young and that she didn’t remember much of anything before he found her. The Report labeled her as an early favorite because of her calm and charismatic demeanor. I thought it was ridiculous that people were gathering opinions so early in the Selection. The public didn’t know anything about us aside from how we naturally interacted with a crowd. But I knew how important the crowd's opinion was because there was no chance that the King would allow his son to marry someone hated by the entire country.

“I wonder if Prince Julien is as excited for tomorrow morning as I am,” Cosette exclaimed as we walked up the stairs.

“I’m sure he must be feeling a bit overwhelmed. I mean we all have an individual bond with him but he has to form thirty-five bonds.”

“Of course! How self centered of me,” Cosette’s eyes appeared devastated as she stopped in front of her bedroom door.

“No don’t be upset. It’s only natural that you’ve been thinking of your perspective and everything has happened so quickly today. Don’t put yourself down.”

Suddenly, Cosette had wrapped herself around me in a hug.

“You know Éponine, if I don’t win I really hope you do!” She laughed.

“Ladies, please don’t loiter. You’ll all need your beauty sleep because you have a long day ahead of you!” Claudia called out, adjusting her well ironed skirt.

I quickly walked to my room at the end of the hall. As I entered, I could see my maids stop their chores to come approach me. With one look at the broken shoes in my hand I couldn’t tell if my oldest maid, Miriam, was going to cry or yell at me.

“I’m sorry Miriam. When I was walking down the stairs my ankle rolled and the heel just snapped. They were beautiful,” I said, handing them to her.

“Yes well, I guess I’ll put together a pair of suitable flats for tomorrow, Lady Éponine,” said mumbled, unsure whether or not she should believe me.

“Are you ready for us to prepare you for bed Lady Éponine?” My smallest maid, Miriam asked with a large smile on her face.

“I really don’t need help getting ready for bed, but thank you for offering,” I waved them away as I walked toward the bathroom.

“With all due respect My Lady,” my third maid, Laila called out, “It is our job to prepare you for tomorrow and if we aren’t able to do our jobs there is no way you will look presentable.”

“Lady Éponine you must understand that you can’t do this without our help,” Mariam said.

“You know better than any other selected girl must understand how important it is for a Six to do their work,” Miriam said, putting her hand on her hip.

“Miriam, I’m sorry if me being here has offended you in some way, but I’m here. I know I’m nowhere near anyone you’ve probably worked for and you probably think that you shouldn’t even be working for me. But I’m not going anywhere anytime soon and I hope that you aren’t either,” I said, thinking about how the woman tried to help me learn how to walk in high heels for an hour straight.

Instead of lecturing me like I would have expected from a woman with her strong personality, she took me by the hand and led me towards the bathroom. I had never experienced anything like this bedtime routine. Elise undressed me while Miriam started to run the bath and Laila would ask me questions while she brushed out my hair. I caught a glimpse of myself as I stepped into the bathtub and did a double-take.

My stylist team had spent several hours making me look as close to royalty as a Six could get. Upon arrival the three of them all gasped at how much they had ahead of themselves. I was scrubbed and waxed in every possible area after one of the girls sincerely asked if my family was too poor to afford razors. The rubbed all sorts of lotions over me that made me smell sweet and painted my nails, per my request, a nude shade of nail-polish.

“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about me,” I remembered saying to them.

“Of course darling,” one of the stylists sang. “You don’t want to be seen as some gold digging Six! We’ll just put some extra shine on you!” She exclaimed.

While they did that extra shine, I learned that my hair was actually a chestnut color instead of a dull brown.

“Your hair color is something that most girls would kill for! No one could get this color out of dye. We’ll just put in some long layers and do a keratin treatment,” she said, even though I didn’t know what any of those words meant.

Now I was sitting in a bathtub filled with bubbles while someone massaged my scalp. I sat there and thought about Zelma. All of the horrible possibilities piled up in my mind until I could feel a tear fall across my cheek. That was the only thing my maids didn’t ask me about. While Miriam pulled down my bed, Laila wrapped my wet hair around pieces of fabric so they would be curly in the morning.

“During training we’re taught how to use electrical appliances but I prefer this method. It saves time in the morning so you can sleep in and it doesn’t burn your hair,” she beamed, proud of herself.

“That’s great Laila,” I smiled, complimenting her. She looked so happy that I thought she was going to cry.

I thanked my maids for their help as I sat on my bed. I had never felt something more comfortable in my life. It felt like a cloud as I sank into the mattress. Elise and Laila curtsied to excuse themselves for the night while Mariam stayed behind.

“I’ll be sitting in this chair all night, so if you need anything please just let me know Lady Éponine,” she called out from across the room.

“Wait, you have to sit there and watch me sleep?” I asked sitting up.

“Yes, it’s a safety precaution.”

“Is there any other way to make sure that I’m safe? You shouldn’t have to stay up all night and then work all day tomorrow. I’m sure you don’t get paid enough for that.”

“Lady Éponine, I’ve been a maid here at the palace for nearly twelve years. If I wanted to leave for a higher paying job I would have already. I do this job because I love it and this is the closest I’ll ever be to a higher caste.”

Her reasoning had taken me aback. I realized that even though we were technically the same caste, Miriam was at the top tier of Sixes while my family was at the bottom.

“Please, post a guard outside of my door or something, but I can’t sleep with you in the room,” I said standing up.

“As you wish Lady Éponine,” she said, curtsying out of my room.

#enjonine #prince enjolras #enjolras #eponine #les miserables #fanfiction #the selection #cosette #musichetta #crossover #cross-posted #modern universe #les amis

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wondersmith39 · 5 years

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This is several days late, but here’s my last piece for @aphrarepairweek2019‘s last two prompts (”flowers” and “nostalgia”)

Fic under the cut (about 1300 words), as well as some historical notes

Hanoi, May 1st, 2015

Lien can’t blame Gilbert for wanting to switch places. There’s no room for his long legs in any of the seats, but at least if he were closer to the aisle there would be less risk of kicking Vietnamese officials in the shins.

It’s no good, though. A switch with Lien would block the view of the Vietnamese prime minister’s relatively diminutive wife a row back, and Gilbert gives up trying to get Ludwig to switch with him after the third shushing. By then, Chancellor Merkel has begun her speech, and he seems to have forgotten what he was complaining about.

Despite himself, Gilbert is on his best behaviour for such a momentous occasion as the fortieth anniversary of formal relations between Germany and Vietnam. Sure, he spends more time watching Lien murmur translations of the trickier Vietnamese lines for Ludwig than he does watching the politicians onstage, but his stare is one of the few that she doesn’t mind.

The trouble only comes when the ceremony draws to a close, and Gilbert stumbles over both Lien’s and Ludwig’s legs in his haste to get out.

“Where are you going?” Ludwig hisses. Gilbert aims his first deliberate kick at Ludwig’s ankle, and winks back at Lien.

“Surprise,” he says in Vietnamese. Ludwig frowns, but is too busy trawling through his limited Vietnamese vocabulary to pay any more attention to Gilbert’s escape.

“Do you know what that was about?” Ludwig asks.

“I was about to ask you.”

Ludwig sighs with his entire body. It’s a a slower, heavier movement than almost anything Gilbert does, but there’s some familiarity in the way that Ludwig presses his lips to a thin grimace.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him this week, Miss Nguyen. I really don’t.”

An opening in the crowd spares Lien from needing to come up with an answer to that statement. They shuffle out of their row and up to the doors at a snail’s pace, and Lien tries not to envy Gilbert’s boldness to run ahead of the crowd. It’s good enough that he’s back in a good mood—despite the festivities and Ludwig’s best efforts to minimize his own impact, Gilbert’s enthusiasm has not been even across the week.

Lien won’t blame him for that either. Forty years isn’t a number that actually holds much weight for either of them, but it’s particularly meaningless for Gilbert. He’s been by her side for much longer than the West Germans who have since superseded him, but there’s painful memories mixed in with the happier ones when people dig through the history between East Germany and North Vietnam, and those difficult years don’t make for good celebration material.

So Ludwig is the reluctant recipient of the bulk of the attention, and in private, Gilbert has promised her every time she’s asked that he doesn’t mind. He’s proud of Ludwig. They both know that.

There’s no sign of Gilbert when Lien and Ludwig finally make it to the door. That in and of itself is odd—he’s an easy man to spot in Hanoi.

Ludwig lets out the second full-body sigh in so many minutes and shakes his head.

“Maybe he went and caught up with the Chancellor,” Lien suggests. Unlikely, but it’s a reassuring enough thought for Ludwig to work with.

“Right,” he says. “Right. I’ll go look for him. Could you stay here in case he comes back.”

Lien gestures vaguely forward, and Ludwig bustles off. He stands taller than almost everyone in the room, but still vanishes quickly enough as the crowd flows away from her. There’s a reception dinner in a few hours, and if the attendees want time to rest or change outfits before that, they’ll need to beat the worst of Hanoi’s traffic.

The thought is almost enough to make her hope that Gilbert has run off entirely. To look for him would make an excellent excuse to skip out on the evening.

Instead, he appears from down the hall as if summoned by the idea, hands behind his back and grin just shy of smug.

“You’re shedding feathers there, snowbird,” Lien observes. He jolts around to look at where Lien points, where he’s left a trail of flower petals on the carpet, and laughs.

“Not much of a surprise now I guess.”

He pulls Lien into a half-hug with one free arm and presents his gift with the other. The bouquet is all pinks and reds, with tufts of tiny white petals tucked in between.

It takes a few breathless seconds to recognize them as blossoms off of a coffee plant.

“You still surprise me, Gilbert. All the time,” she murmurs. She tugs the bouquet from his hand to run her fingers through the blossoms. Everything else in the bouquet is florist-manicured, but the coffee blossoms are a little messy, a little dirty; aberrations wedged into the flawless arrangement to make it a different sort of perfect.

“Where did you get these?”

“Downstairs. Gave them to the front desk lady to keep in—”

“The coffee blossoms, Gilbert.”

“Ah.”

He chuckles; rubs the back of his neck with as much sheepishness as he is capable of.

“Saw them while I was out walking last night. I was gonna get you flowers anyway but I gave the farmer a couple hundred thousand dong to rip a few off his plants.”

“You are ridiculous.”

She barely gets the words out. He is extraordinary.

“I try, babe.”

They move in sync, her arms around his shoulders as he leans down into her embrace. There’s only the slightest hesitation on his part, unused as he is to Lien showing affection so publicly.

She couldn’t care less about that right now. He’s earned it. He’s more than earned it.

A drip of water falls from the stems onto the floor and Lien mumbles, “these will need a vase. Soon.”

Gilbert pulls back with another wicked grin.

“I thought of that,” he says. “Care to play hooky on that dinner tonight?”

“I—what? We can’t just skip it,” Lien sputters, more because he seemed to read her mind than because of any real commitment to that miserable obligation. Gilbert merely pouts, and takes the flowers back from her to shove them right up into her face.

“But the flowers will wilt! After all my hard work for you, are you just going to let this beautiful arrangement die?”

Lien bites back a laugh. The coffee blossoms don’t have a strong smell, but the fragrance of the whole bouquet is overwhelming so close to her face.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

She gently pushes the flowers away from her face and looks up at Gilbert; rather than the grin she expects, he’s pulled a face of pure affront.

“How dare you suggest I plan anything. I’m a master of improvisation.”

“That you are. Improvise one more reason we shouldn’t go?”

He smirks. He has her—had her as soon as he asked and they both know it, because they both know that the dinner isn’t for them anyway.

Well… Gilbert might have liked the party as much as he likes any party, but that just makes it all the more encouraging to see he’s already committed to a quiet night in a tiny Hanoi flat.

“I’m sick,” Gilbert decides. “Heatstroke sounds believable for me. You can be sick too if you want.”

“Not heatstroke.”

He glances down at the bouquet.

“Unexpected allergic reaction then. Couldn’t be helped. I feel terrible about it, really, but look how awesome I am staying home and taking care of you.”

Lien glances past Gilbert; Ludwig has returned, and though it’s too crowded to run, he’s walking towards them at some haste.

Ludwig could frankly use the evening off too. On another day, Lien might feel bad that she and Gilbert will be leaving him to explain their absence to their leaders.

“Let’s go home,” she says. “I’ll make coffee.”

Forty years is not their number, but if partnership is what everyone wants to celebrate, then they have more right to it than anyone else. Forty years belongs to people who can spare the two of them a night to themselves.

Historical notes:

In 2015, Germany and Vietnam celebrated 40 years of relations, counting from 1975, after West Germany established formal ties with the newly united Vietnam. East Germany had already been close with Communist Vietnam for years; they were a major contributor in terms of aid during the Vietnam War, and many Vietnamese workers came to East Germany from the time between the end of the war and the fall of the Berlin Wall. The events depicted in this fic are not based off of any particular ceremony, but I put it in the spring to have it shortly after the anniversary of the Fall of Saigon.

The coffee industry in Vietnam was largely kick-started by East German investment. The beginnings of coffee production happened around the same time as the East German “Coffee Crisis” when changes in the global coffee market drove prices up and caused a severe shortage in Communist countries in particular. Later, East Germany signed a treaty to provide equipment and investment in the Vietnamese coffee industry in exchange for a percentage of the harvest being set aside for the East German market, though the first harvest wouldn’t actually come until after the Berlin Wall went down. Given the significance of the coffee industry to Vietnam today (setting aside, of course, the more delicate/touchy issues of its impact such as the environment), I imagine coffee has quite a bit of personal significance between Lien and Gilbert. Coffee blossoms aren’t typically flowers used for bouquets (though I find them quite pretty - do yourself a favour and look them up!) but why would Gilbert of all people limit himself to “pretty” instead of “awesome and unique”?

#hetalia #aphrarepairweek2019 #pruviet #aph prussia #aph vietnam #39 art #ink

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buckysforeverprincess · 6 years

Text

What Do You Want From Me? Ch 8

Lance X Reader, Jase x Reader, OFC Claire

Words: 2862

Warnings: Language

A/N: The night of Jase and readers date...what could happen? Enjoy!

You were nervous the entire time you got ready for your date with Jase. The last time you'd been on a real date was three years ago, and that relationship only lasted a few months.

Drew was not a fan of how much time you spent with Lance. Even after explaining how the job was too new to make demands for yourself and telling him you'd negotiate with Lance later, Drew decided later wasn’t soon enough and left just shy of six months. Maybe you should’ve listened to him.

Putting on the finishing touches of your makeup, you looked at your phone to check the time. Jase was picking you up at six thirty, which gave you fifteen minutes to put on the dress and shoes.

There's also a text from Jase telling you he was on his way, and your stomach starts to bubble. How were you going to make it through the night if you couldn't get it together? Hopefully, hanging on the arm of one sexy lawyer you'd like to fuck, will give you a much-needed confidence boost you were looking for. It couldn’t hurt, right?

Pulling yourself from your less than pure thoughts you put on your shoes followed by the dress. You couldn't quite get the zipper up and would need to ask Jase to help when he arrived, but by all accounts, you were ready for the night to begin.

Your thoughts suddenly slipped to Lance. What it would have been like to attend functions like this with him. To get all dressed up and hang on his arm all evening, have him look at you like you were the only thing on his mind. Ugh! Get a grip woman! You're plain, ordinary, ‘average’. Lance Tucker only surrounded himself with gorgeous blonde model types. You'd never be in the same category as the women he shows off. Being plain ordinary sucks.

The knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts and your nerves came creeping back. Don't be nervous, don't be nervous, don't be nervous, you chanted as you made your way to the door. Pausing for just a moment, you took in a deep breath. “You can do this.” You whisper, and you inhaled a deep breath and opened the door.

Greeting you was the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on. He was wearing a gray suit with a white button up shirt and black tie. His blonde hair was combed back and looked like there was probably some product keeping it in place. The stubble from your first meeting looks to have grown out some and sat perfectly down his jawline to his chin and joined the mustache on his face, giving him an amazing goatee. Jesus Christ, his blue eyes were making you melt, and he looked and smelled like sex on legs!

Jase looks at you and smiles brightly, “you look absolutely stunning.”

You can't help but blush at his comment, “thank you, but have you seen yourself?! If we weren't going to this event, I'd invite you in and ride you like a horse!” You quickly place your hand over your mouth at the words that voluntarily came out. Holy fuck! You just told him you'd ride him! Who the holy hell are you?! Game over you sex crazed idiot!

Jase laughs at your comment. “As much as I want you to hop on that saddle and ride me till morning, I believe I promised you a date, and you agreed to accompany me on said date. Besides, I'm a very territorial guy. I want everyone to see the beautiful woman on my arm…let them have a taste of what they can't have. I fully intend to show you off this evening.”

You inhale a deep breath and slowly let it out. His words lit a fire deep inside you. This man was everything you wanted, and desired, and was practically staking his claim to you. All you had to do was grab hold and never let go.

“I just need to grab my coat and wallet. Oh, could you zip me up, please?” You turn your back to him.

“I'd love to.” He replies, and places one hand on your hip, and the other finds the zipper. Jase is moving it up slowly, like he's appreciating the view. Once he reaches the top, he moves your hair to the side and places a kiss on the back of your neck. A chill runs through your body, and you are so close to just saying ‘fuck all’ and take him back to your bedroom to make good on that ride!

You turn around to face him, and he's staring at you with lust blow eyes.

“If we don't leave now, I'll probably ruin that amazing dress of yours, and it would be a shame to do so without getting to enjoy it first.” His voice has lowered an octave and is mind blowingly sex filled.

“Let's go now!” You grab your coat and brown checkered Louis Vuitton Croisette Wallet with chain (the only thing Lance bought you the entire time you've worked for him) and walked out the door.

Arriving at the event was nothing you've ever experienced before. The building itself looked as though it were hosting a Hollywood premiere; spotlights flashing, and red carpet leading to the entrance. Valet! There was a valet, and they were helping you to get out of the car, while your date traded his keys for a ticket to be turned back in when it was time to leave.

“Shall we?” Jase asks, holding out his arm to you with a smile.

“We shall.” You wrap your arm through his, and the two of you walk inside.

Everything is so intimidating, and your nerves were starting to take control. All the women you saw were so intimidatingly beautiful, you knew you were out of your depth. Their dresses were either sleek and form fitting, or elegant but lacy. For a moment you felt underdressed, and the words ‘average’ squeaked back into your head.

Jase sensing your unease, pulled you in closer to whisper in your ear. “I can assure you, you're the most beautiful woman in this room, and plenty of them are more intimidated by your beauty than you are of theirs. Relax. Now let me show you off!” And he places a soft kiss to your temple. The gesture so intimate, so loving. God, this man is absolutely perfect!

As promised, Jase led you around the event, introducing you to everyone he knew. The governor's wife was impressed by your politeness and wit, offering Jase an approval of his choice in women. “I’m absolutely delighted with her! She has such a classic beauty, which means her beauty is true, not bought or plastic like everyone else in this room. I hope you plan on keeping her Jase…you won't do any better!”

He laughs at the woman's brashness, “of course Aunt Jane. I have no intention of letting her go!”

You were absolutely smitten by this man. When he wasn't introducing you, his attention was only directed to you. Walking around, your arms were linked, or he was holding your hand, and when you were standing still his hand was always on your lower back. It made you feel wanted… admired. This man was showering you with attention after two days. Lance couldn't do it in three years.

“Hey stranger!” Claire's voice heard above the men talking around you.

“Claire!” You detach yourself from Jase in order to give her a hug.

“Y/N…you look breathtaking! I had to see you for myself…you're quite the talk around here tonight.”

You were quite confused by her statement. Why would anyone talk about you? “Um…why? Why would people talk about me?”

Claire smirks at you like a cunning fox, “you really don't know? I left out the part about Jase being the governors very single nephew. So, when he's seen out with a very beautiful woman, people talk!”

You suddenly felt very sick to your stomach. You had heard the conversation he had with his aunt, but it didn't dawn on you just how much he was in the public eye. Were you only here to provide him cover so all the unwanted women would stay away from him? Would you be a one-night romp, with a walk of shame in your future, never to see him again? Would Jase be another Lance?

“Excuse me Claire.” You say to your best friend, leaving her standing there and making your way through the crowd and into the women's bathroom. Once inside, you lock yourself in a stall and try to clear the thoughts racing through your head.

“Did you see Jase Collins?” You hear a female voice say as she enters the room.

“Who hasn't seen him! The man reeks of sin.” Another woman says happily.

“That poor girl on his arm has no idea what she's in for!” Both women laugh at the same time.

“He's worse than Christian Grey in a fifty shades novel.” They're cackling now.

“She looks like his type; cute, timid, and utterly clueless!” The first woman says. “He'll break her for sure, then he'll be on to the next!” They laugh as they walk out the door.

Jase has a type! Of course, he was too good to be true. No wonder you were the talk of the event. He had a reputation, and they were all intrigued by the appearance of his new potential conquest. God, Y/N! You sure know how to pick ‘em! First Lance the self-proclaimed sex god, and now Jase the master of fuckery! No wonder you're single, you really are pathetic!

You needed to get out of this place and now! Leaving the bathroom is the first step, I'll get my coat and sneak out. What's the worst that can happen?

You wished you hadn't had that inner dialogue in your head. Leaving the bathroom, you realize you weren't paying attention when you run smack dab into the chest and arms of the last man you wanted to see right now. God, you were cursed beyond belief.

“I'm so sorry Ms.! I did- Y/N?” You couldn't even look at him. “Y/N! Are you ok?” He asks, almost sounding concerned.

“I'm fine Lance. Excuse me, I need to go!” You remove yourself from his hold and begin to walk away.

“Wait, please? I'd like to talk to you.”

As if he hadn't said enough already. “Talk to me? What more could you possibly say to someone ‘average’? I mean, didn't you just ‘do me a favor’? You're probably jeopardizing your career just being seen with me right now!” You're yelling at him. It's not a full-blown yell, but it’s enough to catch a few people looking your way.

“I'm sorry. Some of the things I said were cruel and I never should have said them to you.”

You're laughing at him. If being a world class ass hole doesn't work out, maybe he can be a comedian. “Oh, Lance! Did you catch feelings? Oh, sweetie. Feelings don't feel very good, do they? You just want to get rid of them, don't you? Never see the bad feelings again, huh?” You say to him in your best condescending five-year-old voice.

Lance tightens his face and you can see he's pissed off. Good! Fucker needs a dose of his own medicine.

“Y/N this isn't funny! Stop playing around and be serious!” He reprimands you like a petulant child.

“Ok, Lance…,” you calm yourself down and take a deep breath in, “let's talk.”

“Thank you.” Lance swallows hard before he begins. “God, you’re absolutely breathtaking!” You give him a hard glare. “I'm sorry, it's just...I can't think...you're so beautiful...fuck, I'm screwing this up, ok. I'd really like to sit down and talk to you somewhere that isn't here.” He almost sounds sincere.

“Like your bed?” You raise an eyebrow to him.

“Bed is nice, we can get there-”

You don't allow him to finish his sentence, smacking his face with all the strength you can muster. “Listen up asshole! I've put up with your shit for too long and I won't do it any longer! Lance Tucker doesn't have feelings, and sure as hell doesn't sleep with the same person twice! Your entire life is a shitshow! Women throw themselves at you, and for what? Just to be treated like garbage the next day when you throw them out! You are a selfish, arrogant, cockwaffle that only cares about himself and his own ridiculous needs, and damn everyone else if you get too close! You've fucked with my life for the last time Tucker. I hope you die alone, holding your broken, useless, disease ridden cock for comfort!”

Never in the three years you've worked for him have you seen him speechless. This was a first. He looked everywhere but at you, and almost appeared like he was hurt by what you said. They say the truth hurts, so maybe Lance finally heard how badly his own actions affected everyone else.

“I was in love with you…but all that got me was one good fuck, and a broken heart. Good job, Lance! You get a gold medal in heartbreak!” Lance closes his eyes and bites his lower lip in frustration. He knows it's over. Everything he wanted is gone.

“Y/N, I've been looking all over for you…everything alright?” Jase comes up behind you from the main hall entrance.

“Sorry, I went to the bathroom and then ran into someone.”

Jase is now eyeing Lance. “Did you want to leave? We don't have to stay?” Jase looks like he's trying to get you away from Lance, sensing something off between the two of you.

“I don't think we've met, Lance Tucker.” The first thing he has to say is that? Are you shitting me right now? Oh, the balls on you asshole!

“Charmed.” Jase gives him a dismissive look, then turns to face you. “Let me grab your coat and I'll take you home.” He gives you a loving smile.

Jase turns back around and sees Lance still standing there, glaring at him. “You still here? Is there something I can help you with?” Jase asks Lance, hoping he'd get the hint and walk away.

“Yeah, there is. I'd appreciate it if you'd walk away and let me take her home.”

Oh, hell no! There's no fucking way in hell I’m leaving with him.

“Clearly your need some kind of mental help if you think I'm leaving here without my date. I don't even know who you are!” Jase tells him matter of fact like. Burn, Lance! Burn!

“If you must know...I'm the last guy she slept with!” Lance’s reply is full of arrogance.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Lance Tucker we all know has finally entered the building!

Jase doesn't seem bothered by his announcement and begins to chuckle. “You hold tight to that memory...I guarantee you won't be the next.”

Check and mate folks! Mr. Collins wins this match.

“Look, asshole! I don't know who you are, but I'm trying to have a conversation with my future wife!” Lance yells at Jase.

You’re stunned by this revelation and can only watch what's going on in front of you. You need a bucket of popcorn for this shit, maybe even some tea.

Jase starts to laugh, and Lance looks even more passed off. “Future wife? Well, Larry…just so we're clear...I'm going to take your ‘future wife’ home. Once we get there, I plan to put her down on all fours, naked as the day she was born. I fully intend on smacking her ass raw until she begs me to fuck her into oblivion, with the strength and might of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. And right before she cums, I’m going to make her scream my name so loud, you'll feel it on your wedding day. Bet you'll never forget my name, huh Luke?”

For the second-time folks, Larry, Luke, no Lance is speechless!

“Now if you'll excuse us, I'd like to take my lovely lady home. Your presence seems to have exhausted her and I'd like to get you off her mind. Have a good night!” Jase places his hand on your back and the both of you walk towards the coat check. Fuck my life he just dominated Lance Tucker. Epic!!!

In a matter of minutes, Jase has managed to not only dismiss Lance, but totally decimate his over inflated ego. You've never seen anyone handle Lance like that before. Good this man is good, and you totally forgot what had happened earlier in the bathroom.

Leaving the building, you never took one look back in Lance’s direction, but you knew he was watching, the jealous rage building inside.

And just as Lance was watching you, someone was watching him. They couldn't help the elation they had at how things turned out for Lance. It was finally time he got what he deserved. As long as Y/N moved closer to Jase, Lance’s world would come tumbling down around him. Revenge never felt so good.

#lance tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance the fucker tucker #lance tucker fanfiction #the bronze au #the bronze #pa!reader

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duhragonball · 6 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (90/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[25 May 234 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

"Here's the short version," Pozet explained. "King Rehval created me and sent me to kill Saiyans for him so he would have an excuse to ask your wife Luffa for help. Then he had me kill the detective he hired to catch me, so that you would take over the investigation while he started putting the moves on Luffa. You actually managed to track me all the way back to the Pflaume system, where I was created, and that was a bit of a problem, since that's where he planned to lure Luffa so he could spring his trap."

While Pozet was explaining this, Zatte was trying to grab hold of the intruder, but Pozet kept dodging and batting aside her hands just before Zatte could reach her. The two of them leaped all around the bridge of Luffa's star-yacht, the Emerald Eye.

"How could he possibly trap Luffa?" Zatte asked. "She's the--"

"The Legendary Super Saiyan, I know," Pozet said. "I was created using tissue samples from your body, babe. I'm not really alive, and I don't know everything that you know, but I do share your attraction to her. Master's told me all about her. I must have seen that movie they made about her a dozen times, but the actress they cast to play her doesn't do her justice!"

"What did you think of her love interest, though?" Zatte asked.

"Rax Cosmo? I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, but the on-screen chemistry was decent en--HEY!"

Behind Pozet, one of the control consoles exploded, showering her back with sparks and shards of hot polymer. It wasn't enough to hurt her, but the distraction slowed her down just long enough for Zatte to throw a punch to her face--

Only for Pozet to dodge at the last possible moment.

"You used your energy manipulation powers to blow that thing up," Pozet said. "But how'd you do it so quickly?"

"I know the ship pretty well," Zatte said. "Takes the guesswork out of how much energy it takes to destroy parts of it. But it looks like I'll have to try harder to catch you off guard. At least now I know you really don't have my memories, and you can't read my mind or anything like that. Otherwise you would have seen that coming a mile away."

Pozet grinned. "Oh, you're good," she said. "I can see why Luffa married you. Rax Cosmo couldn't hold a candle, even if he was real."

"I identify with him a lot, actually," Zatte said. "He's an underrated character. A lot of fans think Luffa should have ended up with the Fire Prince, but I don't buy it."

"You identify with him?" Pozet asked. They continued circling each other around the confines of the bridge. "He's a man!"

"Well, you have to use your imagination a little, all right?" Zatte said. "Or do you not have one, because you're 'non-living?'"

"Don't underestimate me, honey," Pozet said. "I'm everything you are, but better! I'm as strong as you are, and I'm at least as good a fighter--"

"Computer!" Zatte called out. "Run Program Zatte-630!"

Suddenly, the artificial gravity on the bridge switched off, then on again, and Pozet found herself stumbling backwards as a result. As she regained her footing, she found Zatte leaping directly at her. She tackled her into the navigator's chair and they began to struggle as they rolled to the floor.

Pozet's sudden appearance had been unsettling for Zatte. She had expected the killer to be a Dorlun, but not a strange duplicate of herself. Pozet's face, body, and voice were all identical to her own, but her skin was red instead of Dorlun blue, and her hair was blue instead of Dorlun red. Pozet wore an eyepatch like Zatte's, but on the left eye instead of the right. This was presumably an aesthetic choice, since it hardly made sense to create an artificial assassin and purposely injure her. She needed to understand her enemy, and Pozet seemed to defy comprehension.

As she contemplated this problem, Pozet suddenly stopped resisting her. "You know, I'm not very familiar with this ship at all," she said. "But then, I don't really need to be."

Zatte realized what she was alluding to, but barely managed to escape it. Zatte had shorted out a very specific power conduit earlier, based on a plan to corral the intruder towards in when it finally exploded. Pozet now did the same thing, only she overloaded the plasma conduits in the lights and environmental controls mounted in the ceiling. Being unacquainted with the ship's design, she simply overloaded them all at once. The result was much more destructive than Zatte's diversion with the console. Hot sparks fell all over the deck, and the ship's fire suppression systems activated, dousing the room with foam. In the midst of all this chaos, Zatte lost sight of Pozet, and was unable to find any trace of energy coming from her body.

"Having trouble?" Pozet teased. "You've got the same energy manipulation powers I do. We can both become invisible, and we can both detect ki energy and heat signatures, only my body doesn't put off any heat, and I've got no ki because I'm not alive."

That didn't make sense to Zatte. Through training, living beings could increase their ki power to greatly increase their speed and strength. Pozet seemed to have a power to rival Zatte's own, so if it wasn't ki-based, then what was it?

With the main lights destroyed, the only illumination on the bridge was the monitors and consoles of the bridge stations. This wasn't a problem for Zatte, as her powers allowed her to see a wider range of colors in the electromagnetic spectrum. But this meant it wasn't a problem for Pozet either, which left them in a standoff.

"Computer," Zatte called out. "Execute Program--"

"--619!"

The artificial gravity shut off again, then reactivated at half the strength normally used. Zatte had intended something else, but since she knew this program, she was prepared to cope with it.

"I didn't know what that one would do," Pozet called out. "But I figured a random number would be better than whatever you had in mind. Looks like the computer recognizes my voice as yours, too. Makes things interesting, doesn't it?"

Zatte muttered a Dorlun profanity as she considered this development. She had expected to fight a Dorlun, but never expected one who could so easily mimic her own voice. Pozet didn't even have to try; she just naturally sounded the same, and not even the ship's computer could tell the difference. It wouldn't be enough for Pozet to take complete control of the ship, but it would allow her to confuse the computer whenever Zatte tried to use it herself. As she moved around the deck, hoping to find some sign of Pozet's presence against the fog of fire suppressant chemicals, she noticed that it wasn't just fog. Some of it was smoke.

"Having trouble breathing?" Pozet called out as soon as Zatte began to cough. "I heated up the fibers of the carpet. Not enough to start a fire, but enough to get them smoldering. Smells good, doesn't it?"

Zatte winced as the acrid smell grew stronger as she moved towards the charred carpet. She covered her mouth and nose, but could still find no sign of Pozet. And then she heard a chirp from one of the bridge stations, and she realized that Pozet must have been crouching on top of one and accidentally touched a button.

"Oh, crap," Pozet said. Before she could move away, Zatte raised her hands and fired a ki blast from the palms of her hands. Luffa had taught her to do this, although Zatte preferred to rely on conventional weapons. Her ki powers were relatively weak and imprecise for combat, but there wasn't time to find her pistol or anything else. She simply targeted the entire bridge station and fired a blast large enough and powerful enough to destroy the whole thing before Pozet could get away.

In doing this, Zatte paid a heavy price. She inhaled more of the stale, smokey air, and went into a coughing fit. She needed to get off the bridge, but she couldn't leave until she was certain Pozet was neutralized. She tried to hold her breath and search around the deck, but after several minutes, she found nothing. And then something kicked her from behind, and she fell to the floor.

"That was a lucky shot," Pozet said. The smoke was thicker on the floor, but Zatte was still able to see Pozet, who apparently now felt confident to become visible. The homunculus' left arm was badly burned, but she seemed unconcerned by this injury. If the bad air was causing her any problems, she didn't show it. Pozet only breathed when she needed to speak aloud.

"I'm not here to kill you, Zatte," she said. "My master just wants me to keep you occupied for a while. I had meant to just play with you until he contacted me with further instructions, but you're dangerous. If I'm not careful, you might just find a way around me, and I can't let that happen. Luckily, I took out the life support system, so there's nothing to stop the bridge from filling up with smoke and suffocating you. So I figure I'll relax and wait for you to stop breathing. How's that sound--? Wait, what have you got there?"

Zatte had been carrying a portable air supply canister on her belt the entire time. She had been keeping it invisible with her powers, and had refrained from using it in case she would need it later. Now, with the smoke becoming unbearable, she had strapped the face-piece to her mouth and made it just visible enough for Pozet to notice, and she used this distraction to grab her by the ankles and fling her across the bridge.

The situation was untenable. Zatte had hoped to keep their battle confined to a small area of the ship, but between the smoke and damaged controls, the terrain was beginning to shift into Pozet's favor. The air canister she was breathing from would only last for so long, and now that Pozet knew about it, she would focus her efforts on destroying it or taking it away.

So Zatte headed for the lift, forced the doors, and leaped down the shaft to relative safety. It worried her to leave Pozet unchecked on the bridge, but until she knew how to fight Pozet effectively, she had to keep moving through the relative safety of the rest of the ship.

As Zatte made her way to an access tunnel that intersected the lift shaft, she wondered just how long that relative safety would last.

*******

[25 May 234 Before Age. Planet Pflaume.]

Moments ago, Luffa believed there were only two life forms on the ice giant world of Pflaume: herself, and Rehval III, the King of the Saiyans, whom she had followed here through a mystical portal. Luffa was wrong. A third Saiyan, her own son, now stood before her, though she could not understand how this was possible.

The only habitable settlement in the entire solar system was Pflaume City, an artificial biosphere which floated through Planet Pflaume's upper atmosphere like a great fortress adrift in a storm. King Rehval had it evacuated prior to this encounter. He had gone to great lengths to lure Luffa here, in order to propose an alliance that would betray everything Luffa held dear. Rehval III was unlike any Saiyan Luffa had ever met. He was a brilliant visionary and a powerful fighter, but he was utterly devoid of honor. Rehval seemed willing to stoop to anything to achieve his goals, which all involved shaping the future of the Saiyan species for centuries to come. Lies, treachery, sorcery-- Rehval was willing to use any trick and suffer any humiliation to get what he wanted.

And now, Luffa's son had come to King Rehval's rescue.

"Are you all right, Your Majesty?" the boy called to his sovereign.

"I am now," Rehval replied. Luffa had been torturing Rehval with a compression lock on his leg. He rose to his feet slowly, painfully, but he still managed to stand, which might have surprised Luffa if he hadn't been fixated on the boy.

"My lord, your arm!" the boy cried.

Rehval nodded and gripped the burned flesh of his left arm with his right hand. "It'll be fine, Xibuyas," he said, though he couldn't completely hide the anguish in his voice."

"I know of your powers, Sire," Xibuyas said uneasily. "That you can restore yourself from injuries far worse than these, but I still wish that you had summoned me sooner!"

"The enemy is swifter than I anticipated," Rehval admitted. He looked at Luffa and smiled. "And more clever."

"And more foolish!" Xibuyas shouted. "When you told me of your plan to offer her an alliance, I expected to find her kneeling at your feet, not torturing you! Move aside, King Rehval. Let me teach her the price of her defiance!"

Rehval raised his good hand to signal the boy to stand by.

"What have you done?" Luffa asked in a low voice. She was addressing Rehval, though she never took her eyes off the boy.

"Surely you can guess that for yourself, Luffa," Rehval said. "I told you of my knowledge of alchemy. You've seen the Pozet, the homunculus I created for you. I've told you of how I increased my own power beyond what little nature saw fit to give me. And you've seen my laboratory on Planet Saiya. You've seen the gestation chambers, which nurture embryonic Saiyans so they can be born with their maximum potential."

She didn't want to believe it, but it made too much sense for her to deny it. Years ago, the Tikosi captured her, and tormented her for months for the sake of their twisted "experiments". Luffa's own father had arranged for this, betraying her so that he could benefit from the fruits of their research. What no one had known was that Luffa had been pregnant at the time. The father of her child, Luffa's husband, convinced the Tikosi to surgically remove the boy from Luffa's body. They turned the remains over to him, and when Luffa finally escaped the Tikosi, she hunted him down across the galaxy, hoping to mete out justice for her son's death.

But she had only assumed the child was stillborn. When she finally caught up with her husband, Kandai told her that he had been hired by King Rehval to secure the fetus. Kandai himself didn't know what he intended to do with it. Like Luffa, he had probably never imagined that the child could have survived. But the Tikosi had keep Luffa alive throughout her captivity. Their experiments had been designed to bring her to the brink of death and back, again and again and again. Was it so impossible to imagine that they could have kept a prenatal Saiyan alive outside its mother's womb? Such technology was commonplace in the wider galaxy. Even the Saiyans used it, though Luffa found the practice revolting. To Luffa, motherhood was a sacred rite among Saiyans, or at least it was supposed to be. The idea of Saiyan mothers giving up their children to be midwifed by machines was so horrifying to her that she never considered that it could have happened to her own offspring.

Luffa wanted to believe that this was a trick, that the boy standing before her was another homunculus, or some other alchemical illusion cast by Rehval, but the boy's ki was unmistakable. The only thing that didn't make sense was his age. Her son should only be three years old by now. This boy looked closer to fifteen.

"You probably have some way to age people," Luffa muttered. "But that doesn't fit. "He couldn't have gotten so strong in only three years."

"Very astute, Luffa," Rehval said. His breathing was still labored from his injuries, but he seemed determined to remain calm and in control of the situation. "Xibuyas was not aged through some artificial means. He was trained in a special place, one revealed to me by the Guardian of Planet Saiya."

"Guardian?" Luffa repeated in surprise. She had encountered such beings before in her travels. They were supposed to be mortals who were granted the station of lesser gods. Their duty was to watch over their assigned worlds, though their power paled in comparison to mortal warriors like the Saiyans. It wasn't difficult to imagine Rehval's grandfather conquering an inhabited world, renaming it "Saiya", and destroying its indigenous population, all while their Guardian looked on helplessly.

"She was magnificent," Rehval said wistfully. "My grandfather had kept her alive, mostly to avoid any reprisal from on high, and because she was no threat to us. But where he and my father saw a figurehead, I saw untapped potential. When I was ready, I pitted my charms and talismans against her divine wisdom, and I bent her to my will. That summer I spent on her lookout was one of the happiest of my life. She showed everything to me, including a room where time passed more slowly on the inside. It was designed to seal itself after only two days of use by a single occupant, but I managed to work around that rule, and had the entrance relocated to my home on Pflaume City. In total, he has spent twelve days in that room, training with my servants. But inside the room, a year passed for each of those days."

"Then they're the ones who raised him," Luffa said bitterly. "Taught him how to be the obedient little bootlick to the Saiyan King, is that it?"

"I wanted you to rule by my side, Luffa," Rehval said. "I lied to you, but my purpose was sincere. I had hoped that even if you despised me, we could put aside our differences for the sake of our people. Perhaps you think me foolish for hoping you might accept my proposal, but I was not so naive that I didn't prepare for your refusal."

He gestured to Xibuyas. "If you insist on being my enemy, then Xibuyas will accomplish what you would not. You call him a 'bootlick', but he's far more than that. I've already arranged for him to be mated to one of my daughters."

"Like hell!" Luffa seethed.

"Whatever power he possesses, whatever secrets lie in his bloodline, they will be passed onto my grandchildren, and on down to the rest of the Rehval Dynasty."

"You know it doesn't work that way, idiot!" Luffa shouted. "If you could breed a stronger Saiyan, don't you think someone would have done it a long time ago?! Every one of us is probably descended from Chanisp, but I'm the only one as strong as--!"

"That only proves that our ancestors lacked vision," Rehval insisted. "They clung to outmoded beliefs, and useless sentiments, when they should have learned to understand the mysteries that rule our fate! Think of it, Luffa! A Saiyan nation ruled by its strongest family! Where the greatest warriors are allowed to marry into that family. Instead of waiting for gifted fighters to prove their worth, we can measure their potential before birth! A woman like you would be elevated to her rightful place, instead of languishing in the care of mercenaries living hand-to-mouth!"

"And what about the ones that don't have any potential?" Luffa asked.

Rehval shrugged his good arm. "They have their uses, I'm sure," he said. "The ones who can contribute to the gene pool will be allowed to do so. The rest will have to earn their acceptance, one way or another."

"And that's the great future you want for the Saiyan race?" Luffa asked. "That's the future you had in mind for my son?!" She began to laugh. "And they call me a monster."

"You are a monster, Luffa," Rehval replied calmly. "Not because of your yellow hair or green eyes, but because you represent the chaos that has benighted our people throughout our entire history. I wanted to make a place in my kingdom for you, but I see now that I was wrong. All I can do for you now is order your execution."

"You and what army?" Luffa scoffed as she pointed to the boy. "Bringing him out here might have saved you for a few more minutes, but he's not strong enough to save you--"

She approached Rehval and raised her left fist.

"Get away from him!" Xibuyas shouted.

"Stay out of this, Katem!" Luffa shouted back. "I'll deal with you in a minute. First, I'm going to make this slime pay for what he's done!"

Despite his injuries, King Rehval was still immensely powerful by the standards of normal Saiyans. As Luffa attacked, he leaped backward to roll away from her punch. Dodging would be impossible, but by moving away from her fist as she connected, he could at least reduce the impact of her blow.

However, Luffa was the Legendary Super Saiyan, and from the perspective of her transformed state, Rehval might as well have been moving in slow motion. Though using only a fraction of her full power, she had more than enough to leap forward after him, ensuring that her blow would still hit hard enough to crush his skull.

Then Xibuyas moved. Luffa spotted this out of the corner of her eye, but thought nothing of it. As powerful as he was, he was still too slow and too far away to do anything to save King Rehval.

Except, when her fist connected, it did not land on Rehval's forehead. Instead, she was caught in Xibuyas's hand. Somehow, he had managed a burst of speed that had allowed him to get between Luffa and Rehval.

Luffa was too astonished to react. Though she had the strength to pull free of the boy's grip, she stood transfixed and watched his eyes glaze over with rage. He started to hyperventilate, and then he cried out in a voice that Luffa couldn't help but find familiar.

And then she saw what looked like steam rising from Xibuyas' body, and he was suddenly engulfed with a golden aura. She noticed that his grip on her hand was getting stronger...

"What...?! No way!" was all Luffa could manage to say.

The part of the city they were standing in was some kind of promenade, with shops and restaurants lining the walls of the corridors. These were abandoned, but their signs and lighting were still active. As Xibuyas' power increased, the electronics closest to the Saiyans began to short circuit and explode.

"Twelve years, Luffa," Rehval said as he backed away from them. "I did everything I could to make him strong enough to defeat even you. I wasn't sure it would be enough, but now that I see Xibuyas in action, I have to say that I'm pleased with the results. Destroy her, Xibuyas! Now!"

*******

Xibuyas wasted no time, leaping after Luffa and striking her unguarded face. She went flying back, and the boy chased after her. With a burst of speed, he stopped directly ahead of her, and landed a powerful kick that send her flying off in another direction. For a minute or so, he bounced her around the promenade like a rubber ball, until at last he allowed her to crash into the deckplate below. Luffa's impact was so great that she gouged a trench into the thick metal.

"You're nothing but a fraud!" Xibuyas shouted. "King Rehval was wise to prepare me for this battle, woman! But you're no match for the power of a true Saiyan warrior!"

He wouldn't fail. King Rehval had been preparing him for this battle for his entire life. Failure was simply not an option. Xibuyas would crush this impostor once and for all, and prove himself worthy. The "Super Saiyan" had a fearsome reputation, and his power lacked experience, but he was sure that he could overwhelm her. He just had to stay focused and stand firm.

He readied an energy blast in his left hand, but before he could send it down at his target, he noticed she was getting up. Too angry to analyze this development, he launched his attack, expecting it to have the same effect whether she was standing or lying down.

The energy sphere was more of an amorphous glob. It was mostly yellow, with swirls of red, like it wasn't entirely finished. Seconds before it engulfed Luffa, Xibuyas saw her face. He expected terror, or perhaps surprise. Instead, her expression was one of... curiosity? He wondered if she might dodge it, and then the attack made contact, and he couldn't see her at all.

Only, instead of the usual explosion of red-and-yellow light that followed his technique, it all simply faded away. He saw Luffa looking up at him, smiling. In her clenched fists were what looked like pieces of his energy glob, as if she had somehow ripped it apart.

"What have you--?!" he began to shout. "How did you do that?!"

"It...it's really you," she said. Her smile faltered as she spoke, and her eyes widened. "I don't understand it, but it's really you. Maybe... maybe I should check again."

"Fool!" Xibuyas screamed. "If you want to spend your last moments of life babbling like an old woman, then so be it!" He launched himself directly at her, leading with his fists. "Now you will DIE!"

He crashed into her, his hands charged with ki energy which he fired into her abdomen at the moment he made contact. The raw power of the blow tore the deck apart, and he fell through to the level below. Xibuyas realized he was inside a large auditorium. Wreckage from the ceiling was still spilling into the seats.

"And that will be the end of that!" he declared. "All that's left for me to do now is search for your miserable corpse! Xibuyas is no fool, woman. I know all about your tricks, and I won't allow you to slip away like a dog so you can plan your escape."

He floated above the rows of seats, then hovered over the stage, thinking it would afford him a better view. "Of course," he said to himself with a laugh, "there is the possibility that my last attack shattered your puny body into a thousand pieces! King Rehval should hire a cleaning crew to gather them all up. Pity. I would have enjoyed taking your head as a trophy, woman! You were supposed to be my first great triumph, and you barely put up a struggle. Eh--?"

At last, he noticed the hole in the stage, where he found Luffa kneeling. Around her was a pile of theatrical supplies and sound equipment. She had her back turned to Xibuyas, and she was no longer glowing yellow like before. She appeared to be muttering to her hands.

"Alive?!" Xibuyas howled. "Impossible! I don't know what you're playing at, woman, but I'll give you some free advice: Never turn your back on the great Xibuyas!"

He aimed his hand at her back and bombarded her with dozens of energy globules, each of them exploding all around her. In seconds, the entire stage was engulfed in orange ki energy, and then he sensed her moving within it.

She walked out of the firestorm, across the stage, and hopped down. Xibuyas could almost see a slight refraction of light surrounding her body. Had she shielded herself from his attack? How could she maintain such a defense without showing the slightest sign of strain? Then he realized that she was still mumbling to herself. He watched her walk up to one of the seats in the front row, where she sat down and looked back up at him.

"I see it now," Xibuyas said. "It's a trick! You're using some kind of magic spell, or maybe a technological gadget to protect yourself from my power! Well be warned, female! A Saiyan warrior won't be so easily deceived! I-- are you even listening to me?!"

"It's really you," Luffa said. "It's the same power. Rehval couldn't fake that. He wouldn't know how. Right? I-I don't think it's possible, but..."

"Enough!" Xibuyas screamed. He dropped to the floor and rushed directly in front of Luffa. "I don't know what that incantation of yours is supposed to do, but it won't save you from my wrath! Now, die!"

He threw a right hand, aiming for the top of Luffa's skull. She had lowered her head as he approached, as if she couldn't bear to look at him up close. He could only assume that the witch was overcome with fear, which could only mean her defenses were at their limit. A single blow, and it would all be over--

She caught his fist in her hand. He didn't even see her move. In one moment, she had been powered down, and despondent. In the next, she had transformed, and his hand felt like it was caught in a vise.

"L... Let go of me!" he cried.

Though he tried to deny it, he could feel the fear growing within him. He had been as fierce and relentless as he had planned, and Luffa had shrugged off his attacks like they were nothing. Worse, she didn't even seem to be paying close attention to their battle. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he managed to hurt her badly enough to get her undivided attention.

She looked up at him, her face showing a mixture of emotions, but none of them particularly aggressive. "It's really you, isn't it? I never thought I'd sense this ki again. It's really you, Katem."

"K-katem?" Xibuyas finally managed to pull free, and he took a step back to assess the situation. It was as if she were defending herself by reflex, and she wasn't fighting back at all. Was she truly so confident in her power that she refused to fight him seriously? But if she had such an overwhelming advantage, why was she so troubled?

"Who in the hell is Katem?!" he asked as he shook his right hand to recover from her grip. He didn't realize how tightly she had held him until he was free.

"You are," she said ominously. "That's what I named you. Katem if you were a boy. And if you had been a girl..."

Tears were streaming from her face, and she rose from her chair to slowly walk towards him. More confused than afraid, Xibuyas took a step backward as she approached. She started to chuckle, and soon this grew into a sort of halting, broken laughter.

"My name," he insisted, "is Xibuyas! It was given to me by the King of the Saiyans himself!"

Luffa glared at him, then turned her head and spit on the floor. "That's what I think of the king," she said.

"You dare--!"

"He's a liar and a coward and a filthy kidnapper," Luffa said in a raw, ugly tone. "I failed you, Katem. I failed you so completely that I'll never be able to apologize to you properly. But I refuse to dishonor my own son by calling you anything else."

"Then that's your game," Xibuyas scoffed. "You actually think you can gain the upper hand by pretending to by my mother?"

"I'm not pretending anything," Luffa said. "And I don't expect you to believe me. I can hardly believe it myself. I'm just... I'm trying to make sense of it all."

"Oh, by all means, 'mother', take your time!" Xibuyas said. He raised his hands and fired a blast of energy from his palms, which engulfed her and every seat behind her all the way to the back of the theater. "You can figure it out in hell!"

When the glow of his attack subsided, Luffa was still there. Behind her was only a field of ash and molten scrap where the seats had been, but Luffa herself was completely unharmed.

"Well, you seem healthy, at least," Luffa said. "I guess I should be grateful for that."

"Wh- what are you?!" Xibuyas stammered. "That attack should have...! But you--!"

"Do you live in this place?" Luffa asked. "I never sensed your presence on Planet Saiya. Not that I would have thought to check for it, but... Well, what do they feed you here?"

Xibuyas threw a left kick, but she blocked it with her forearm. "Is that a stupid thing to ask? I... I just never expected this. I don't know what to say right now. I think... I think I'm losing my mind."

Xibuyas tried a punch to her face. Luffa didn't bother blocking. His fist simply connected with her chin, and nothing happened. She didn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, as if rousing herself from a dream. "You're trying to fight me, and I'm just sleepwalking through it. I'm embarrassing you."

She stooped low and swung her left leg around to sweep his ankles. Xibuyas thought he read the attack quickly enough to brace himself, but she knocked him off balance with seemingly no effort at all. Before he could even finish falling, she was suddenly on top of him, grabbing him by his shirt and striking his cheek, shoulder, and chest with the edge of her free hand. Then she tossed him to the ground.

Her blows were so quick that he barely saw her move, but the pain exploded from every part of his body where she had touched him. He clenched his teeth and tried not to cry out. At last, he realized that this creature was even more fearsome than King Rehval had led him to believe. She wasn't just strong. She was... emotional. Everything she said and did was disturbing to him. It was one thing that she kept claiming to be his mother. What made it worse was that she clearly had no need to play mindgames with him. Was she just doing it to be sadistic, or...?

"Hey, that was good," Luffa said. "I didn't think you'd be able to see me coming, but you did. Rehval kept telling me he's the strongest Saiyan after me, but I guess he was lying about that too."

"You're... not a Saiyan!" Xibuyas growled as he rose to his feet. He was clutching the spot on his chest where Luffa had hit him. "And you're not my mother."

Luffa extended her arm and curled in her fingers to invite him to try again. "Convince me," she said.

He saw the tears in her eyes, and the weary smile on her lips, and Xibuyas felt his mouth go dry from terror.

NEXT: Quality Time

#dragon ball #lssjluffafic #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #rehval #zatte #pozet #xibuyas #pflaume #i'm kind of doing a callback to the lord slug movie #not sure i got that across but there you go

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rdmfavcpls · 7 years

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Dragon of Japan Chapter 2 - A Haunted Manor Part 2

Title: Dragon of Japan

Pairing: Sebastian/Ciel Mai/Lin cheating Madoka/Naru previous Mai/Claude

Category: Crossover Black Butler/Ghost Hunt but I am trying to keep it mostly Ghost Hunt

Rating: T-M will slowly progress

Prologue: http://rdmfavcpls.tumblr.com/post/159914962777/dragon-of-japan-prologue

Chapter 1: http://rdmfavcpls.tumblr.com/post/161338218957/dragon-of-japan-chapter-1

Summary: Mai is a demon and she’s within the top 3 powerful demons, but she still holds human emotions within her demon life. She got over Naru’s rejection quickly, but now she’s dying and her brother steps in to help her. What adventures will awat the new and improved SPR?

Warning: There is some Naru bashing and Nar is not a main character in the story. Lin is a lot more talkative in this which I will explain within the story.

Author’s Note: So I too have fallen victim in the Ghost Hunt Black Butler crossover universe. And guess what? I am back from my impromptu hiatus. I have tried to get a schedule started with uploading so I wouldn’t be burnt out of one story and just abandoned it but as soon as I got the schedule down, I had classes that required all if not most of my time and that ruined everything. However, I have hit the infamous writer’s block with my writing. So I am hoping that will vanish soon because it has stayed with me since I lost uploaded.

Disclaimer: I do not owe any rights to Ghost Hunt or the Black Butler franchise.

Please enjoy the story and constructive feedback is always welcomed. The day I am typing this up, I am working on getting five chapters uploaded for you faithful followers. Thank you.

~~Story Begins~~

Chapter 2 - A Haunted Manor part 2

Naru knocked on the wooden door and waited. The door opened to reveal a young lady with red hair in pigtails, she wore thick glasses with swirls and a traditional maid outfit. “Visitors?” she asked surprised.

“Mey-Rin,” another voice spoke from behind her, “please let them in. They are to deal with the ghosts we are currently having problems with. The young master and myself are finding them to be quite a nuisance.”

“Of-of course Sebastian,” Mey-in responded bowing and allowed them in by moving out of the way.

At the base of the stairs stood a man just a little bit shorter than Lin, his black hair fell over his shoulders, his lips were curled into a smile and his red eyes looked at the guests. “Excuse our maid, she apparently didn’t hear we were expecting guests,” Sebastian said apologizing. “Please come this way.”

“Wow,” Ayako whispered to the group as they followed him up the white grand staircase that had red carpet, they passed by many closed wooden doors before they reached a door that had a chalkboard sign reading ‘Base’. “The butler is completely handsome.”

“This here will be the base room which you requested, all the equipment is in there waiting for you,” Sebastian said.

“Thank you, Mr. - “ Naru said.

“Sebastian is more than acceptable, Doctor,” Sebastian said as he stepped further down the hallway. “As you also requested the door on the left is the men’s room and the door on the right is the ladies room. Would you be needing anything else?”

“No,” Naru stated. “When will be a good time to talk to Mr. Ciel Phantomhive about the hauntings here?”

“He has planned on talking about it over supper tonight, if memory recalls, he did send you an email explaining them. So you should be able to start your investigation.”

“We do like to hear face-to-face as to what exactly is taking place,” Lin said.

“My Lord does as well,” Sebastian said. “If that is everything, than I must get back to work.”

“Okay,” Monk said crossing his arms as the butler left them in the hallway. “So, what is the deal about this place?”

Naru looked at Lin, waiting for his guardian to explain the case causing him to roll his eyes. “They hear groaning and screams of pain when they are hosting an event, on nights with no moon, they smell flesh burning in the kitchen, there’s even been an instance of all the silverware disappearing.”

“So, most of the activity is in the kitchen?” Ayako asked.

“There’s more. They will hear footsteps running the hall, but no one will be there, they will also hear a dog bark and howl at the moon, but they own zero dogs,” Naru said.

“Strange,” John said. “There doesn’t seem to be a common theme to them.”

“The spirits are binded here, they can’t speak,” Masako said softly.

“It’s possibly due to an Earth spirit,” Ayako said flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Not once has it been due to an Earth spirit, you old hag,” Monk said.

“Before you two start fighting,” Naru said. “Let’s get everything set up. Yasuhara and I will interview the servants here. Masako will go with Monk to get a feel of the spirits here. John and Ayako, you two will gather the temperatures.”

“What is Lin going to do?” Yasuhara asked.

“Getting the base set up before we start putting up camera and microphones,” Lin said.

“Is it okay for one of us to be alone?” John asked concerned.

“No one has been truly injured and I find this whole entire case a hoax,” Naru said crossing his arms. “The only reason as to why I accepted this case is because I was forced too.”

“Oh, wait,” Monk said. “Yasuhara spoke of the Phantomhives being a major sponsor of BSPR.”

“Yes and they requested us by our names and threaten to pull their money out if we didn’t show up,” Naru said.

“Ouch, no wonder,” Monk said.

“I do not pay any of you to stand around and talk, you have your assignments,” Naru said.

Lin was already in the base when the group went their ways. He had the computers hooked up and turned on, he was just waiting for them to finish booting up. He felt a presence enter the room.

“Ah, Mr. Lin, I’ve been waiting to talk to you alone,” the voice that Lin recognized belonged to the butler said.

Lin turned around to look at the butler, “Why?”

Sebastian merely tilted his head to the side, “You are working on a paper all about the demon known as Dragon of Japan, am I correct?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“You and Mr. Yasuhara aren’t the only ones who can do research,” Sebastian said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “How would you like to make a contract with that demon?”

“I don’t do contracts.”

“The Dragon of Japan is very flexible when it comes to someone who they wish to protect, but a contract is needed, at least temporarily. In your case, a contract might work best.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Your lovely shiki are binded to you, binded to your soul that allows them to protect you from non-physical danger,” Sebastian said placing his hands behind his back. “Dragon of Japan prefers feeding off excess magic and we both know that soon you’ll be getting sick from the excess magic you are carrying around right now.”

“From your attitude and manner of speaking, you don’t much care for me, but the demon himself.”

“The Dragon of Japan does own a special place within my heart,” the butler said. “So, how about it? Create a temporarily deal with me for the Dragon of Japan and once you meet the Dragon of Japan, the two of you can work out the details.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Refusing is not an option,” Sebastian said. “I’ll force you into the contract and it will be through my terms instead of yours or the Dragon of Japan’s. Besides, you’ll get a lot more interesting cases from the government.”

Lin stared at the butler, he could get first hand information for his paper, there will be better cases but Oliver would take all of the credit, plus if what the butler is saying is true, than his excess magic won’t go to waste or cause him to get sick.

It wasn’t a hard decision, especially since this was what lured Lin in ad this would change his life; hopefully for the better but considering how his life is currently, he would welcome a bad change as well.

“I accept,” Lin said causing the butler to smile.

The room became pitch black, the only thing Lin could see is the glowing red eyes of the butler.

“Welcome to your new extended family, Master Koujo.”

Whoa, whoa, back up there! Lin, are you sure about this? You don’t know exactly what you are getting yourself into? I mean, who exactly is this Dragon of Japan? What new cases are awaiting for us from the government because you decided to agree this contract? If you needed some life advice, you could have talked to any of us. Damn it, none of my words are registering inside of your head. Jou-chan would have been able to talk some sense to you. Where is she when we need her? Stay tuned for A Haunted Manor part 3, maybe I can finally get some jam sessions in here.

#black butler #ghost hunt anime #CrossOver #sebastian michaelis #Ciel x Sebastian #ciel phantomhive #Mai Taniyama #Lin Koujo #mai x lin #Ayako Matazuki #Monk #Father John Brown #Osamu Yasuhara #Masako Hara #Mey-Rin #Finniean #Baldroy

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