Fluff Bunnies! They come!
Title: A Symbol of Male Oppression
Genre: Fluffy NONRomance
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 379 words
Summary: Rosalind experiences a wardrobe malfunction of sorts. Rabastan assists. Or tries to.
Author's Notes: Probably the most poorly-written of the series. These two just...don't allow fluff. Probably not canon at all since there's a very slim chance of Rab actually taking his harlot into formal society. Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #10. Anniversary.
"This is a joke, right?"
"When have you ever known me to joke?"
"Rabastan Lestrange, when I agreed to let you pick my dress for your brother's wedding anniversary, I did not expect you to go to a costume store," she declared, absolutely horrified at the dress he had picked out.
"It isn't a costume. It's what everyone at the party will be wearing," Rabastan said simply, adjusting the collar on his dress robes.
"I refuse," Rosalind said, crossing her arms. "I am not accompanying you to Rod and Bella's anniversary in that."
"What is so odious about it?" Rabastan said, exasperated. "It covers far more than what you usually wear. Or is that the problem?"
Rosalind padded around the bedroom, barefoot and in a thin shift. "I am not putting this...this...symbol of male oppression on," she declared, picking up the corset.
"And since when have you been an advocate for women empowerment?" Rabastan said, lifting an eyebrow.
"Since now," she retorted.
Rabastan looked at the clock. Ten minutes to six. "We are going to be late if you don't hurry up. Put it on. Now," he ordered.
"I am not--" Rosalind began.
"--I will not let you make me late for my own brother's wedding anniversary. Now. Put. It. On."
"Go alone, then," Rosalind hissed.
Rabastan stood up and rolled his sleeves back. "I warned you."
"Rabastan, don't you dare!" she screamed as Rabastan came towards her, grabbed the corset off the bed, twirled her around and forced it on her. He yanked at the laces, tightening them. "Dear God, Rabastan, be gentle!" Rosalind yelled, pulling away. She tripped over the bedsheets and fell onto the bed. Rabastan followed her, rolling her onto her belly and pulling the laces tighter.
Rosalind rolled over onto her back, exhausted. She was breathing heavily. She tugged at the corset Rabastan had so callously forced on her. Despite all that, she had to start giggling. She turned to Rabastan and placed kisses on his bare shoulder. Rabastan looked at her from the corner of his eye and covered his face with a hand. "You are shameless," he muttered as took a look at the clock. Quarter to seven. "And we are very, very late."
Genre: Fluffy NONRomance
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 379 words
Summary: Rosalind experiences a wardrobe malfunction of sorts. Rabastan assists. Or tries to.
Author's Notes: Probably the most poorly-written of the series. These two just...don't allow fluff. Probably not canon at all since there's a very slim chance of Rab actually taking his harlot into formal society. Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #10. Anniversary.
"This is a joke, right?"
"When have you ever known me to joke?"
"Rabastan Lestrange, when I agreed to let you pick my dress for your brother's wedding anniversary, I did not expect you to go to a costume store," she declared, absolutely horrified at the dress he had picked out.
"It isn't a costume. It's what everyone at the party will be wearing," Rabastan said simply, adjusting the collar on his dress robes.
"I refuse," Rosalind said, crossing her arms. "I am not accompanying you to Rod and Bella's anniversary in that."
"What is so odious about it?" Rabastan said, exasperated. "It covers far more than what you usually wear. Or is that the problem?"
Rosalind padded around the bedroom, barefoot and in a thin shift. "I am not putting this...this...symbol of male oppression on," she declared, picking up the corset.
"And since when have you been an advocate for women empowerment?" Rabastan said, lifting an eyebrow.
"Since now," she retorted.
Rabastan looked at the clock. Ten minutes to six. "We are going to be late if you don't hurry up. Put it on. Now," he ordered.
"I am not--" Rosalind began.
"--I will not let you make me late for my own brother's wedding anniversary. Now. Put. It. On."
"Go alone, then," Rosalind hissed.
Rabastan stood up and rolled his sleeves back. "I warned you."
"Rabastan, don't you dare!" she screamed as Rabastan came towards her, grabbed the corset off the bed, twirled her around and forced it on her. He yanked at the laces, tightening them. "Dear God, Rabastan, be gentle!" Rosalind yelled, pulling away. She tripped over the bedsheets and fell onto the bed. Rabastan followed her, rolling her onto her belly and pulling the laces tighter.
Rosalind rolled over onto her back, exhausted. She was breathing heavily. She tugged at the corset Rabastan had so callously forced on her. Despite all that, she had to start giggling. She turned to Rabastan and placed kisses on his bare shoulder. Rabastan looked at her from the corner of his eye and covered his face with a hand. "You are shameless," he muttered as took a look at the clock. Quarter to seven. "And we are very, very late."