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cottoncandy-cult · 6 months ago

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New Kind Of Home Pt 2

Zelman Clock X Fledgling! Reader

(Y/n) giggled from where she sat in her room, she was a fledgling black blood that had recently joined the "darkness" of the special zone. She lived in Zelman Clock's manor; she was one of the few maids who took care of the east wing of the second floor. This had been Zelman's wing, which thankfully meant it didn't get near as messy as some of the other areas since Zelman himself wasn't innately messy. Like the other maids she was paid nicely, so she often spent her money on food and her hobbies. One thing she had become really taken with was making candles, sure there were all kinds of things she could do in this day and age but candle making had just really caught her eye. She loved getting to pick the scents and make the designs, she even had a little shop online to sell her creations. Of course, everyone knew about her hobby, at any kind of gift giving event she often made custom candles for the people she was close to. Currently she was sat on her bed, a sketch pad on her lap as she doodled some ideas for some new candle designs. Though she was quick to put down her pencil when a knock at the door caught her attention, she looked up in the direction of the sound as she sat up straight. "Come in." She tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as she saw her boss come in. "Hey there, Sayuka said you missed lunch, so I came to check on you." He stepped into the room, his hands in his pockets as he glanced around. Despite being seen as a villain by some, Zelman paid attention to those who served under him and took great care of them.

"Sorry, I got hit with some inspiration and lost track of time." The young woman sat the sketch pad to the side, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "You can sit down if you like Sir." She smiled sweetly as the red-haired old blood chuckled, moving to sit in the chair at her desk. "So, what kind of candles are you making this time? Those cupcake candles you did for Jura's birthday were pretty popular." Zelman leaned forward, peaking at her sketch pad. Something she happily passed to him, (Y/n) loved getting to talk about her creations. "I wanna do some pie themed candles, I was thinking of doing 3 kinds. Apple and cinnamon, Peach and Vanilla, and Mixed berry. I was gonna keep the design simple, layer 3 different colors each." She pointed to the designs, explaining her thoughts as she indicated to the colored layers of each candle drawing. "I see, simple and classic is always appreciated. I think the Peach one sounds best though, so make sure you make an extra for me, ok?" He had winked at the woman, not oblivious to her blush as she nodded her head quickly. "Of course, if you ever have any requests let me know. I like getting to make personalize candles."

The young woman scratched the back of her head in embarrassment, trying to talk away her flustered cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind, I'm sure you've noticed I always have a candle burning in my favorite rooms. So, it would be nice to get something personally made for me, having it be one of your products just makes it all the better." His words had (H/c) female stuttering and stumbling over her words, something that stopped with a squeak when one of Zelman's large hands gently cradled her cheek. He stared into her eyes, his grin never faltering. "Just as I thought, you're even cuter when you're flustered." His thumb stroked her cheek, and in her flustered state all she could think to do was hide her face. So, she turned it into his palm, closing her eyes as she listened to Zelman chuckle. "Would you like to have lunch with me (Y/n)? A new restaurant opened in the old sector, so I was going to check it out." He slowly sat back, removing his hand as she had finally met his gaze once more. "S-sure, I've finished writing down my ideas anyways…" She bit her lip, her hand fiddling with the pencil that sat on her bed. "Let me get ready first, I don't wanna go out in public in my maid outfit. That would draw so much attention." She blushed darker at the thought, having made the mistake of doing it once and there wasn't a single person that WASN'T looking at her. Though her words made Zelman laugh, nodding his head. "Understandable, I'll be waiting in the common room downstairs. Meet me down there when you're ready." He winked at her again just to see her flustered face once more, then moved to stand and exit the room. Once that door closed behind him (Y/n) flopped back on her bed, her hands resting over her racing heart as she took several deep breaths. She wasn't oblivious to how attractive her boss was, the other female workers were often desperate for his attention and fawned over the older male. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, despite his behavior she didn't want to assume this was a date and embarrass herself later by saying the wrong things.

Though she didn't spend long like this, after all he was waiting on her regardless of the reason why they would be sharing this meal. It didn't take long for (Y/n) to get changed, she didn't do anything too fancy. A simple (F/c) sundress with some black tights and a pair of flats, she had worn a few bracelets around one wrist and a chain necklace that had a red jewel which rested against her collarbone. Her footsteps were quick but quiet, not wanting to seem desperate or accidentally trip in front of him. Before she entered the common room, (Y/n) came to a stop and took a moment to brush out the skirt of her dress and adjust the top to make sure it was settled comfortably but nicely. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting Sir." She entered the room with a shy smile, he had changed as well into something a little less recognizable for him. Leaving his beanie off he had brushed out his hair, settling on wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Despite the relaxed look, he still brought color to her cheeks at the sight. "Not at all, I actually just set down before you arrived." He moved to stand, approaching her with his hands in his pockets. He stood close to her, offering her a fanged smile as his cologne engulfed her. "You ready to head out? I was checking the reviews, and this place is supposed to have some pretty good grilled food." He offers her his arm, grinning at her darkening blush while she slipped her arm within his own and nodded.

All she could do was swallow quietly; afraid she'd stumble over her words if she tried to speak in that moment. She took a slow breath, looking up at him as calmly as she could. "Thanks for inviting me, it's been a while since I've gone somewhere new to eat." She looked away from him after that statement as they made their way out the door, causing the old blood to chuckle and hold his head high. "It's no fun to try something new alone, besides you always make for interesting company." His bold words made her heart flutter, she had to focus on her breathing a moment as she looked up at him once more. "I enjoy your company as well, Cayne and Sei can be somewhat intimidating so I'm glad it's you I work under." This made Zelman chuckle, his head tilting as he gave her a fond look. "I'm glad you're so comfortable with me, I'd hate to think I scare you. I'm glad Sayuka brought you to my home, as a fledgling I can imagine it was quite lonely coming to the special zone on your own." His words held an understanding tone, Zelman had seen many people come and go within the special zone and within his domain. Most of those that came on their own found themselves feeling lost, the special zone was a big place and could be a little hard to get used to.

"I will admit it was overwhelming, I was beyond lost in the city and if it wasn't for Sayuka I'm not sure I would have found a place to live that night. I was a bit scared at first, I wasn't really sure what I should be doing but you made it easy for me being so naturally organized." She smiled softly at the thought as she stared ahead, she had been so afraid at first. But she had been given ample patience to get adjusted to her new life. "You reminded me of a kitten when you were first brought back, soaked in the rain and jumping at every noise. It was pretty cute, I felt bad for your cause you looked so out of place. So, I had you placed in my personal wing since I figured it would be low maintenance and easier for you to adjust to. I meant to adjust your duties once you had got used to the place, but there was no real need for it and since I needed someone to clean my wing anyways, I decided to just let you stay where you were. Plus, I got used to seeing you in the mornings on my way to breakfast. It was a nice routine, and I wasn't ready to give it up yet, I know you aren't a morning person but watching you sleepily waddle down the halls just makes my day." He chuckled as he looked to her, seeing the way her cheeks flushed as she looked into his eyes made his own still heart beat once more. "You aren't wrong, I hate being awake early but the sooner I get my chores done the sooner I can read or work on my hobbies." She turned her head to the side, subconsciously leaning into his side and not noticing til his arm slipped out of hers and wrapped around her waist. It left her flustered at first, though she had soon melted into his side as she took comfort in his presence despite how he made her heart race uncontrollably.

"You know, I'd like to spend more time with you if you're up to it. I'd love to see how you make your candles, if that's ok." He smiled down at her, one of his pointed fangs visible as they walked together. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she hoped it made it harder for him to see her face directly. "I wouldn't mind, no one's ever asked to see how I do it before. Maybe you can help me design a candle, you know pick out the colors and smells and stuff…" She bit her lip, fighting the urge to meet his gaze which she could feel focus on her. "Alright, it's a date then." He winked at her when she looked at him in shock over his wording, causing him to give into his urge and press a kiss to her cheek before watching her brain short circuit. They slowed to a stop as she stared at him as if he just laid the stars at her feet. Releasing her side he took her hand, raising an eyebrow as he pressed another more gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles and kick start her brain once more causing her to stumble over various words before giving up and hanging her head while hiding her face with her hand. He loved her reactions; it made him want to smother her with affection until she was a flustered mess. For now though, he held back, lacing his fingers with her own as he led the way to the restaurant for their planned lunch.

#fluff #x reader #fem reader #black blood brothers #black blood brothers fluff #zelman clock #zelman clock x reader #Zelman clock x fem reader #candy cult vault

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jezmmart · 1 year ago

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Chamomile Comic Trivia #28

#146 - Really

This story arc was vaguely inspired by my job experience. I am A manager but not THE manager at my reluctant retail day job, but there's always something stupid happening and I've had to run the place for anywhere between a week to a month or two so many times over the years, so I had a few experiences to draw jokes out of.

#147 - My

Having said that, I feel no ownership or pride of authority, so this one is just fun with characters. In my head, the place that the customer goes to for buying something is just "the till" so I remember it took me a while to come up with, of all things, the words "service counter" - something for Layla to refer to that area by that didn't sound completely unnatural in dialogue.

#148 - Follow

Now this one IS very much based on my own experience going to management meetings and training days. Fleeting moments of inspiration in how to improve things and community with fellow management - followed by immediately getting slammed back down to earth by how hard the ideas would be to implement due to constantly stingy hours and how it's all just about making money in the end.

I remember once pointing out a hypocrisy in a company process during a training meeting. The trainer conceded to my point making sense then came to the conclusion of... "do it like we said anyway". Cool.

The fact that Layla is making notes and paying attention while veteran managers to her left and right doze off was also true to my experience, lmao.

#149 - Help

Very important lore drop here - the addition of the cute little staff only spiral staircase upstairs in the corner of the shop, which was a memorably fun thing to decide "I really want this in Cammie's shop, I'm always fascinated by them when I see them in a shop and ever since I was little always very upset I can't go up and down them" and then realise "right now I have to figure out how to draw that!!". I've checked the blurry backgrounds for the two comics where this corner of the shop was visible before and there wasn't any sign of it, so this is a very light retcon (those blurry backgrounds were very vague anyway though). A rare case of it being more sensible to draw the background in full since it was getting used for all 4 panels, so enjoy some uncensored spiral staircase:

I remember coming up with this joke when a Uni friend was visiting and we were just sort of riffing off each other with work related jokes or something, so this comic takes me back to fond memories of said visit generally!

If you look carefully you can see Layla has already performed her management teleportation spell in panel 3, behind the thief's open jacket.

#150 - Stop

The big 150! Well, it feels like a special number at this stage (250 also feels special, and then after that the 50s don't so much anymore for whatever reason). Either way I decided to do a quadruple lengther!

I haven't always followed this rule but I decided at this time at least, for extra-length comics, I still wanted each "page" to at least vaguely stand-up as a standalone comic too. In that context, the main purpose of going extra length is to keep the pace on a scene which I don't want dragging out across a whole month.

The spot Cammie runs by in this panel is the same one from comic #56, Cammie's footprints permanently a part of this street's history now. I know for sure these two extras in the foreground will show up in a few future comics when I couldn't be bothered to design new ones too.

The "helping the old ladies across the street" part of this chase is one of my favourite comedy scenes I've come up with over the years, I don't remember at all where it came from, I just enjoy it as a reader now, haha! I'm particularly proud his look back and Cammie's responding glare.

On the flipside I wish I could have come up with something a bit more meaningful than just "there is a dead end" to finish the chase but it's not really super important, the seagull joke is the point.

And now for something that hasn't come up in a Trivia post before - significant unused content!

For a short time I was thinking about following the above with a new arc dealing with an actual fallout from the shoplifting incident, with two comics scripted out. It's been years and I've never used or repurposed these so I think it's safe to share them. I reserve the right to still use a variance of these one day if it really feels right for another story though, not everyone reads these trivia posts, haha!

I'll let the scripts speak for themselves first.

Unused #151:

Unused #152:

From here the idea was that Bri and Cammie would have had a falling out for a little while (maybe a couple months worth of comics I was thinking) due to Bri, her dearest and most understanding friend, outright calling her stupid in the heat of her deep concern, sort of an expansion of the little moment where Vi genuinely hurt Cammie's feelings by referring to her "rampant idiocy" back in #59 / #62.

But as the deadline to begin work on the #151 approched I just wasn't coming up with anything I liked to follow that thread through, so in the end it didn't happen and we got... *flips page* a comic about Cammie putting a bucket on her head instead! Good stuff.

I still think canonically, Bri wouldn't have approved of Cammie's chase, but in this case she kept her frustrations to herself!

[Trivia Archive | Browse from most recent]

#jezmm #chamomile comic trivia #art insight

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years ago

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Monstrous Morning Brews

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Halloween Lattes

Rowan keeps asking himself why he orders the same, overly-sweet, coffee every day when he prefers it black and bitter. Oh, the golden-haired barista—that’s why.

Fic inspired by the title image 👻🎃

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1838 words

*******

“Large pumpkin latte for Rowan!”

Rowan’s head snapped up as the barista’s voice rang out through the small café. He carefully finished setting down his laptop and books before striding towards the pickup counter.

Aelin was leaning onto the counter’s other side, her golden blonde hair pulled up in a precarious bun as she smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you,” he grabbed the drink and offered her a crooked smile of his own.

“I gave you a ghost this morning, what do you think?” she was grinning as he finally dragged his eyes from hers and looked at the image gracing the top of his coffee.

This was what the café was known for—well, what Aelin was known for, seeing as she was the one to pitch this particular menu item. Specialty designed latte art. Not that latte art was her idea, or new by any means, but Aelin was the one to suggest that the café start allowing customers the choice of images, letters, or patterns on their drinks, for an extra charge of course.

After the first few Instagram posts circulated of various designs, the café soon had long lines of people waiting to get their custom lattes. These days, with Autumn in full swing, many of the Halloween themed images were in high demand.

The first time Rowan visited the café it was only because he’d passed out the night before at his friend’s apartment and desperately needed caffeine before making his way home. This place wasn’t remotely close to either his house or to campus, but he found himself driving the longer commute just to see a certain barista.

He’d been struck by her golden hair and bright blue eyes the first time he’d come in and she’d barely been able to piece his order together because Rowan had somehow reverted to his flustered by a pretty girl teenage phase. Which was why when she’d asked what design he wanted on his latte (when had he ordered a latte?) all he’d managed to say was surprise me.

Watching her eyes light up and a wide grin spread across her face, Rowan decided he would let her choose his design whenever he ventured to the café and bought one of the special lattes.

‘Whenever’ then becoming every day.

But it wasn’t the artistic coffees that brought Rowan back day after day, it was the sharp-tongued, cheerful, stunning barista who smiled at him whenever he walked in. Aelin, who got excited whenever she could draw something new on his drink; who always tried striking up a conversation with him despite his multiple failed attempts at not looking foolish in front of her; who, today, had put a cute little ghost on the top of his coffee.

He chuckled at the little ghost that shook as he gripped the mug. “It’s boo-tiful”

Rowan froze, regretting his stupid pun before the words even finished spilling out of his mouth. What? Why in Hellas’ name would he make such a corny joke—

Aelin laughed and grinned wider but was cut off from replying as another customer approached the till.

Rowan hastily walked back to his table, careful not to disturb the intricate design atop his drink. As he glanced around the café, he was happy to note that besides his, there were only two other tables occupied.

He set the ghostly latte next to his computer and situated himself for the next few hours.

First, Rowan took out his earbuds and turned his study playlist to shuffle. He hated the loud, chatting crowds that sometimes overtook the café.

Next, he pulled out a few bags of snacks, some grapes and crackers. He wasn’t a fan of the overpriced too-sweet pastries on display.

Finally, Rowan looked at Aelin and watched as she ducked into the back and out of sight, before stealthily pulling out his thermos. It was filled with freshly brewed, hot, black coffee. Because he absolutely, without a doubt, hated pumpkin lattes.

***

As soon as the leaves had started changing, the café’s menu was overtaken by pumpkin, caramel, and cinnamon.

The rich aromas were comforting, especially as the weather got colder, but that also meant his already-unwanted latte was now overflowing with the sickly-sweet artificial pumpkin flavor. He knew Aelin loved it; he’d seen her make her own drinks while on shift to know she adored the pumpkin lattes and hot apple ciders.

Maybe that was why he still pretended to enjoy the monster-covered drinks.

In the last few weeks, Aelin had given him coffees with pumpkins, bones, and leaves, as well as more intricate designs like a wolf howling at a moon or a witch on a broomstick.

Rowan would buy a thousand sugar-filled lattes if it meant seeing her proud smile as she handed over his coffee.

Aelin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as she walked over towards his table and swept some dust and old crumpled wrappers from the ground. “Not thirsty?”

Not for coffee. He shook off his immediate thought and fought the blush that rose as she tilted her head and waited for his answer. Gods, he hadn’t been this horrible with girls since high school.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?” Smooth.

Her lips quirked to the side as she nodded at his latte which was as full as it’d been when he picked it up more than an hour ago. “Are you not thirsty?” Then her brow furrowed as she asked, “Or was something wrong with it? I could make you another one—”

“No!” His eyes flew wide as her brows flew up at his quick response. “Uh, I mean, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just, uh, I got distracted.” To prove his point, Rowan plucked up his mug and took a large sip. It took everything in him not to cringe at the sugary taste.

“Oh, okay,” Aelin smiled, apparently believing his role of latte-enthusiast. “Well, if you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back.”

That’s when he noticed that he was the only customer left in the café. He smiled at her again and she paused.

“I just noticed you have dimples,” Aelin told him, grinning. “They’re cute.” Then she winked and walked behind the counter and through the back door.

Rowan sat frozen, blinking slowly at the spot Aelin had just been standing, trying to remember how to breathe. She noticed his dimples. He didn’t even know he had dimples. She thought they were cute.

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he couldn’t have repressed his broad grin even if he tried.

In an effort to calm himself down, Rowan reached into this bag and drew out his thermos to take a long drag of the bitter coffee. He’d just taken a second large gulp when the back door swung open and Aelin flounced into the main sitting area.

“Sorry, I forgot to grab the broom—” She halted three steps from him as her eyes darted between his face, the thermos of black coffee, and the barely-touched latte. “I—what?”

Rowan guiltily lowered the thermos to the table, swallowing the coffee as he met her accusatory glare with his own wide-eyed gaze. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed committing a felony, not drinking homemade coffee in Aelin’s café.

“I, uh, well,” he stammered.

Aelin merely crossed her arms and raised a single golden brown as she waited for him to say something. When it became clear that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—explain, she sighed.

“Rowan, is that coffee?”

“Yes.”

“You bring your own coffee to a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” He could’ve sworn she was fighting a smirk.

“Can I ask why you bring your own coffee to a coffeeshop? Especially when you buy a coffee every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, surely red from his embarrassment, and winced. “Yeah, you can ask that.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping towards his table to lean her hip against it. “Okay. Why do bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, when you buy a coffee every day?”

Rowan was tall enough that even while sitting he was able to easily look her in the eye as she stood at his table. Theoretically easy, yes; Actually easy, when he wasn’t sure his embarrassment would ever fade away, no. He rubbed a hand down his face and loosed a heavy sigh.

This was it, he had to come clean. She would find out he’d been lying to her and only buying lattes as an excuse to talk to her despite never having the balls to actually say anything in his favor, and she would call him creepy and ask that he never return. But she was staring at him expectantly, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that he had no defenses when it came to Aelin.

“Here’s the thing,” he began slowly, “I don’t actually like lattes.”

Aelin blinked. Twice. “But you get always get a specialty latte.”

He winced. “I do.”

She was silent for a minute and Rowan mentally kicked himself and was already preparing to pack up his stuff and leave when she tossed her head back and laughed.

Aelin laughed.

Rowan gaped as the girl he’d been hard-core crushing over laughed relentlessly at his confession. He couldn’t even be embarrassed or confused because he was too startled by how beautiful she looked when she laughed

“You,” she gasped through another laugh, “come in here every day and pay for a drink you hate—why?”

Rowan opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but he stared at her as she calmed down and beamed at him, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to confirm it.

Drawing up a scrap of the bravado he’d lost every time he entered the café, Rowan cleared his throat and looked Aelin in the eyes as he told her, “Because it gives me a reason to talk to you, and you look so happy making those drinks.”

By the way her smile grew impossibly brighter, Rowan knew he’d said the right thing.

“That is endearingly stupid.”

His face fell but before he could utter another word, Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. The soft kiss short-circuited Rowan’s brain and he remained sitting as Aelin quickly darted back behind the counter and started pushing buttons on one of the machines.

The next thing he knew, Aelin was back at his table with a large cup of fresh, black coffee. “Just so you know,” she grinned as he blinked up at her, “I liked making those drinks, but I liked the customer who ordered them more.” With one last wink, Aelin disappeared back behind the counter, the light scent of pumpkin following in her wake.

Rowan’s grin didn’t falter for the rest of day once he noticed ten scribbled digits and a small waving ghost on the side of his cup.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @themoonthestarsthesuriel @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin #rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fic #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin au #halloween #coffee shop #throne of glass #tog

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love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

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Necklace for a Dragon

M dragon X GN reader, 5,975 words

A dragon commissions a necklace for his deceased mother, but he is reluctant to open up about her death. Can you help him work through his grief?

The thin, delicate chain in your fingers clinked quietly as you worked on it. The magnifying glasses perched on your nose enabled you to carefully manipulate the tiny gemstones into place. It was a nice piece, you thought. The white and pale yellow gems set against the deep platinum gave the impression of tiny stars in a night sky.

Your gaze flicked up as you worked. It was a habit from before you’d gotten the bell installed on your door to let you know if a customer had entered, so your gaze moved back to your work before you’d really processed anything you��d seen.

Then your brain caught up with your eyes and your head snapped back up.

There was a man standing in the middle of your store. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a fairy tale. His look was oddly monochrome- he had pale skin, white-blonde hair that curled around his ear and under his chin. Silvery antlers pulled back from his head and a shimmering scaled tail tufted with fur coiled and twitched behind him. His clothes were unreasonably fancy and not at all modern- his shirt was ruffled and he wore a heavy, furred cloak around his shoulders. Gems fairly dripped from his horns and the upper curve of his ears.

The little bell hadn’t even rung to announce his entrance. It was as if he had simply appeared in the room.

“Hello,” you said, whipping your glasses off and staring at him. “Can I help you with something?”

He regarded you with ice-blue eyes. His expression was utterly neutral. “I am looking for jewelry.”

Okay. Good start. Your eyes swept over his frame, assessing him as a customer. He was unfamiliar, but given his mannerisms and the general look of his clothes, he was wealthy. That was good- most of the pieces in your store weren’t made by you. There wasn’t enough of a market to buy your handmade pieces in most cases, which were priced high enough to drive away most typical buyers, and those who were rich enough to afford the splurge were few and far between. Most of the jewelry on the shelves was cheaper, more mass-produced pieces. It wasn’t exactly something you were proud of, but it kept the roof over your head.

He wasn’t looking at any of those pieces, though. He had beelined right for the well-lit display case that showed all your custom jewelry. You slipped out from behind the counter and hurried over to him. “See anything you like?”

His gaze swept over the case. “I am not sure.”

“Well, I also take commissions, so if you want a specific design, I can do that for you,” you said eagerly. Commissions were uncommon, but very much appreciated. You could charge a little more for them and you didn’t have to account for the shelf time.

The man turned toward you. His gaze locked with yours and a chill slipped down your spine. Holy shit. With a sudden clenching in the pit of your stomach, you knew that this wasn’t an ordinary monster of Fortune Falls. This was one of the Old Ones.

The Old Ones were not necessarily old individuals, though, even though the one in front of you appeared to be in his twenties, he could be ancient. It was their species that were old, though, ones that had existed before civilization and kept to those old ways. They radiated powerful magic and rarely interacted with humans at all. Even other monsters were uncomfortable around them.

You had only seen one once before, an ancient golden dragon. You steeled your will. A customer was a customer. Even if Old Ones had an irritating habit of paying in extremely outdated currency- you would be lucky if he paid with something from the modern millennium.

“A specific design,” the man repeated, drawing you out of your daze. You nodded attentively.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” you said. The man exhaled slowly. He had the expression of someone unused to interacting with others- he didn’t seem to be holding a stern expression because he actually felt stern, but more because he had completely forgotten you were supposed to change your expression to let others know what you were feeling. “Maybe you could tell me what the jewelry is for and I can give you some suggestions.”

The man turned back to the display case. “It is for a funeral.”

“Oh,” you said. “For, ah. For you or for the, erm. Deceased?” It was not the first time someone had come to your shop looking for jewelry to bury someone in.

“Deceased.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice, but it was not the lack of emotion of the passionless. It was the sound of someone who had been exercising their emotions so much they didn’t have anything left to give. Pity stirred in your chest.

“Well, I’m sure we can find you something nice,” you said. “There are a lot of nice pieces here.” You gestured broadly at the wall of jewelry. The man peered at the necklaces lining the bottom row. His tail weaved back and forth, flowing like a river.

After a moment, he shook his head. His curls swayed, brushing against his chin and over the tips of his ears. “No,” he said. “Something else.”

You froze, waiting for his next move. Instead of turning toward the door, he turned toward you. You let out a sigh of relief. “Would you like something made specifically for you, sir?”

He lowered his chin in the slightest of nods. A faint flicker of bitterness invaded your mind before you shoved it away; the idea that you were going to make something that was going to have exactly one showing before it was being shoved underground wasn’t something you were overly pleased about. Then again, plenty of the extremely rich had pieces of jewelry made for them only to cram it into a closet after one night out. This was a little more important than that, wasn’t it?

“It would need to be elaborate,” he said. “Something worthy of my mother.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. “I can sketch up a few designs overnight and you can come back tomorrow to look at them. We can work from there.”

The man’s head dipped in a slow nod. “I will see you then.” Not waiting for any response, he whirled, cape swirling around him, and headed out the door.

The bell still didn’t ring. You glared at it until the man left, then pulled out your stepladder and went to check on it. When you tapped it, it jingled merrily. Hm. Weird. You moved the ladder away and experimentally swung the door open and closed. The bell rang every time. Okay. Really weird. But you had more important things to do.

You placed the stepladder away again and sat behind the front counter. There was a sketchpad situated under the desk for situations such as this. Usually, you had a little more idea what the customer wanted. You kicked yourself for not asking any more questions. He had left before you could get some clarification. You sketched out a few designs, most of them similar to ones you already had on the shelf. They were pretty, of course- all your jewelry was nice, and it tended to be difficult to make shiny things look that bad. But they almost certainly weren’t what your client wanted.

Night fell. You closed up your shop, but stayed in the back, eating takeout. You had an apartment, but it was barely bigger than your shop and you spent so much time here that you’d just moved a couch and some blankets into the back room, just in case you wanted to crash for the night. Really, the only practical use your apartment had was that it had a shower you could be sure no one else was using. Given your cooking skills, it was probably safer if you didn’t have access to a kitchen.

You sketched on the pad late into the night, growing more and more frustrated the longer you tried. Nothing seemed to be coming out right, and the things that looked kind of good were too reminiscent of stuff you’d already made.

Grimacing, you rolled your stiff neck and shifted your position. One of your legs was starting to fall asleep. Maybe you should just go to bed. Your mind wasn’t getting any clearer the later you stayed up, and maybe you would get an idea in your dreams. It wasn’t common, but it was better than just sitting around and waiting for inspiration to strike.

You leaned your head back, eyes closing for a moment. The image of the man swam back to your mind. He had been rather beautiful. The silvery sheen of his tail had been almost mesmerizing. It reminded you of sunlight gleaming off flowing water, or maybe oozing mercury. And his multi-pointed horns, glittering with gems had been striking as well.

Inspiration slammed into your mind like a lightning bolt. A sizzling, frenetic energy jumped through your veins. The idea seized you with a frightening ferocity. You had felt this before, the few times when an idea had seized you with a creative fervor. There was no way you were going to be sleeping now. Instead, you scrambled for another piece of paper. You needed to get this down before the idea faded.

It took you well over an hour of sketching, erasing, and fine-tuning before you’d worked the design into something you were happy with. Once it was done, you collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change your clothes. Sleep swept over you in an immediate wave.

You woke late enough that you barely had time to throw on another set of clothes and snag a granola bar before you had to open the shop. Fortunately, the design you’d made the night before still looked good in the morning light. The amount of times you’d written something in a sleep-hazed frenzy only to wake up and discover that it was absolute garbage was uncomfortable to even think about.

Despite your somewhat unkempt appearance and your tiredness, you still managed to make a couple sales. One of them was an engagement ring, one of your own designs, which had you feeling quite proud for the rest of the day. You added a few finishing touches to your sketches with a flush of enthusiasm. The day was nearly over, but the man hadn’t showed up again.

Someone cleared their throat right in front of you. You startled, knocking over a stack of coins and watched as they rolled under your counter. “Dammit.” Grimacing, you looked up.

The man was standing over you. He watched as one of the coins rolled in a neat circle next to his foot and fell over. “You should pay more attention,” he said. He stooped and picked the coin up, placing it delicately on the counter. “It is bad customer service to leave a customer waiting.”

“There’s supposed to be a bell,” you muttered under your breath. If he heard you, the comment didn’t bother him. He watched as you scrambled to pick up the few coins you could see. You could get the ones under the desk later; it wouldn’t do to go crawling around on your hands and knees in front of an important customer.

“I have the sketches,” you said. “There’s a little area we can sit in over here.” You led him over to the small alcove, separated from the rest of the shop by curtains. It was basically just a table in an area that would give the two of you a little privacy. Not that it was terribly necessary- there wasn’t anyone in the shop. But it was nice.

The man swept over to the table and paused. You looked where he was looking and paused. There were two chairs at the table and both of them had tall backs that left no space for a tail. “I might have a stool somewhere,” you said. “Hold on.”

The man lifted his hand, revealing long, elegantly manicured fingernails. “No need. I will be fine.” He sat a little awkwardly, tail curling across his lap. You hesitated for a moment, then sat across from him.

“So, I have a few sketches that I wanted to show you,” you said, spreading them across the table. The man reached out and picked up a few of them, looking over them with a critical eye. His expression was utterly emotionless. You swallowed uncomfortably. It was always weird to have someone looking at your art right in front of you.

Each drawing was examined and he placed it on the table in front of you. The stack of rejected drawing kept getting higher. The back of your neck tickled with sweat. Was he going to like any of them?

He reached the bottom of the pile and paused. Right. Your final drawing. You sucked on your lower lip. His expression was still unreadable. Finally, he placed the drawing on the table in front of you. “This one,” he said in a soft voice, tapping a finger in the center of the drawing.

It was the design you’d based off his antlers. You nodded, sweeping it back off the table. “Great. So, next we’ll need to pick the base metal color. I’ve got a few of them. There’s silver, gold, platinum…” You spread the sample metals across the table in front of them. His gaze swept over them for a moment, then he tapped the platinum band. “Okay. Good. Are there any specific colors you want in it? I’ll try to match the colors as well as I can, and you’ll get approval at all stages.”

The man sat back in his seat. For the first time, you saw a flicker of discomfort cross his face. “Blue,” he said after a moment.

You noted the color down on your pad and gathered your drawings back together. “Great. That should look nice.” You glanced into his face. His expression was still fairly emotionless, but you thought you were getting better at seeing the subtle tension on his face that indicated changes in expression. There was a tension around his eyes and a tightness around his lips that made him look tired. The sort of blank, weary tiredness of someone who was struggling to keep going. “Um. When do you need this by?”

“Four days from now,” he said. “Is that acceptable?”

“It’ll be a rush job,” you said automatically, then cringed. That felt insensitive. The weariness in his face grew a little more present as he bowed his head in a small nod.

“That will be extra?” he said. He started to reach for his pocket, but you waved your hands hurriedly.

“Uh, no, no. It’ll be fine. No extra charge.” It was probably a bad decision. There was a reason you charged extra for rush orders. But he looked exhausted and if it was for a funeral, he was likely going through a lot. It felt wrong to add onto that.

The man stared at you for a moment. He said nothing, but there was gratitude in his expression. “How much do I owe you?”

You told him the price. He reached into his pocket for a moment, then extracted several bills. You held your breath as he handed them over. Bills was a good sign. You’d once been paid exclusively in heavy gold coins and it had been impossible to find a bank that would exchange them for actual currency.

After a moment, in which you were able to reassure yourself that yes, the bills were all modern, you tucked the money into your pocket. “The rest I’ll want upon delivery,” you said. “This is just an advance.” The man nodded. “Also, I’ll need your name.”

“Solomon,” he said. He gave no last name. You didn’t bother to ask for one.

“Then I’ll see you in a few days for pickup.” You smiled at him. He gave a small bow and swept back out the door.

As it turned out, you saw him much sooner than that. You closed the shop slightly early and started heading back home. It wasn’t the best idea, to take a full night off when you had a rush order you needed to complete, but you were starting to feel a little gross. It was time to get some food that was slightly better than takeout.

The air was chilly and it was drizzling as you walked across the street and headed toward your apartment building. Then you came to a stop, squinting at the man standing in a tiny alcove of trees. His clothes were ostentatious and he looked more than a little out of place, like a prince crouching in a stable. His head was tilted back, staring up at the rain dribbling from the sky. It trailed in little rivulets down his sharp features.

“Solomon?” you said before you could think better of it. He lowered his head and turned to face you. His expression was solemn, but there was a new level of exhaustion in it. It looked more like he was too tired to make any expressions other than weariness.

He nodded to you. “Hello.”

You paused, a little awkward. He didn’t seem overly keen to talk, but he wasn’t exactly moving away from you either. “What are you still doing here?”

Solomon closed his eyes and swayed unsteadily. Automatically, you darted forward to try to catch him. At the same moment, he stuck a hand out to prop himself up on a nearby tree. You collided, his hand fumbling awkwardly through the air until it came to a rest on your shoulder. There was a moment of stumbling as you adjusted to his weight. He was heavier than he looked. His tail wrapped around one of your legs as he struggled to catch himself again.

After a few moments of fumbling, the pair of you managed to find a balance. His weight pressed down on you, leaving you panting with the effort of holding him upright. “Are you okay?” you managed.

Solomon’s chest expanded against you as he took in a deep breath. One of his hands pressed against a tree trunk and he slowly lifted himself back up. “I’m all right,” he said. His eyes closed, but this time, he didn’t sway dangerously. He just let out a deep sigh.

You slid away from him, relieved to have his weight off your back. “Are you sure?” You hesitated for a moment, debating the pros and cons, then kept talking. “Do you… do you need some help?” The words came out of you slowly. You didn’t have a lot of experience trying to give other people your assistance; you were solitary by nature and rarely gave or asked for help.

Solomon closed his eyes for a moment. His long, snow-white lashes nearly touched his cheekbones. “I am just tired. I have not been home in some time.” There was a terrible weariness in his voice, like each word was a struggle to get out of his mouth.

“Do you need help getting there?” you said. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you could actually help him get home. Didn’t most of the Old Ones live in the mountains? You didn’t even have a car.

“No,” he said. “I…” He hesitated, then ducked his head a little, looking intently at the ground at his feet. “I have not been home because I do not want to go back.”

The awkward silence grew thicker. You cleared your throat. “Er. Is it because of your mom, or…?”

His lips curled up to show the slightest flicker of fang. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again. “Er.” A suggestion floated across your mind. “You could come to my apartment for a bit. You look tired.” The instant the idea left your lips, you felt stupid. You were tired too, and you didn’t really feel up to entertaining a stranger, much less an Old One who likely had never been in an apartment building. On the other hand, leaving him alone on the street felt gross too. Well, he probably wouldn’t take you up on the offer anyway-

“I would appreciate that,” he said. “After you.” He gestured to the sidewalk in front of you.

Well. Okay. This was happening. You walked ahead of him, trying frantically to remember the last time you’d vacuumed. Had it been last weekend? Hard to say. It honestly kept slipping your mind. Oh, god, when had you last dusted? Did Old Ones care about stuff like that?

In no time at all, you were at the front door to your building. You fumbled with your keys for a moment before your door clicked open. Solomon stepped into your building with an expression of mild curiosity.

There was nothing fancy about the lobby to your building. There was a threadbare rug and a slightly shoddy desk in a corner. The doorman, a medusa with massive snakes coiling around his head, looked up. His eyes fell on Solomon sweeping in behind you and he raised is scaled brows. You mouthed ‘tell you later’ and headed for the elevator.

Solomon looked momentarily confused when you gestured for him to follow you inside, but he stepped in regardless. You tapped your floor button and the elevator doors slid shut.

You were already braced for the weird jolt that happened every time the elevator started, but you’d completely forgotten that Solomon wasn’t. He seized your elbow as the floor juddered under your feet. His expression was smooth, but his grip on your arm was tight.

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s just an elevator.” You couldn’t tell if he understood what an elevator was, but your lack of concern seemed to appease him. His grip on your elbow loosened, though he didn’t remove his hand.

Solomon brushed past you to get off the elevator once it stopped, giving it a suspicious look over his shoulder. You bit your tongue. Do not laugh at the powerful monster. Even if he is looking at the elevator like it might jump at him.

You jostled the lock a few times before your door swung open. Solomon was tall enough to just look over your shoulder into your fairly tiny apartment. It only had a couple of rooms, and both of them could be charitably described as cozy. You scrambled to grab a few of the carelessly-tossed bits of packaging that hadn’t yet made their way to the garbage can and pushed them out of sight. You had definitely forgotten to dust for a while; Solomon picked up one of your books, then hurriedly ducked his head into his elbow to sneeze.

“Sorry. I don’t come here all that often,” you said. Solomon sniffed and put the book back down.

“I have never been inside a human dwelling before. Are they all so…” He trailed off, looking around the room. “So compact?”

“They’re not if you have more money,” you said. “Um. I can get you something to eat or drink? Or get you something to make you more comfortable? You can sit, if you want.”

Solomon scanned the room and his eyes fell on the small, but fairly cushy, couch. He approached it slowly, then, after testing the cushions with a hand, sat down.

It was strange to see him seated on your overly-plush couch. The heavy fur ruff of his cloak and the fine regality of his face were at odds with the barely maintained shabbiness of your apartment. It was like looking at a historical reenactor on break. It just looked off.

“So, uh,” you said, fumbling for something to do with your hands. “How are you doing?”

It was a dumb question, but you were having trouble coming up with things to say. Solomon looked at you. There was something glassy in his expression. You paused in your aimless fidgeting.

“I am…” The words seemed to take considerable effort. He closed his eyes and swayed. You placed the mug you’d grabbed on the counter, fully prepared to lunge for him if he showed signs of fainting.

Fortunately, he only swayed for a moment before his eyes opened again and he slumped back into your cushions. “I have had a long few days,” he said.

“Yeah?” You picked the mug back up and slid it into your coffee maker. You had no idea if he would like it, but you felt like you needed some. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

He gave you a stony look. “Do you know who I am?”

It was such an unbelievably douchey question spoken with such earnestness that you snorted. “No. Not really. You haven’t told me much.”

“I am the Lord Solomon, ruler of the lands from the town to the eastward river,” he said. The words were grand, but his tone was bored. “My mother’s death places me at the top of the line of succession. There had been an enormous amount of political posturing.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process what he was saying. “I wasn’t aware this area had a lord.”

“It may be a bit above mortal understanding,” Solomon said. “We operate outside mortal laws, and our ownership of the land does not fall in line with your understanding.” He flexed his fingers and clenched them into fists repeatedly. His tail twitched back and forth. “Indeed, these past couple of weeks have been stressful.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you said honestly. You picked up your mug, now filled with steaming coffee, and walked over to the couch. He looked up at you as you sat next to him. His eyes flicked toward the mug and you saw him sniff the air curiously. “It’s coffee,” you said. “Do you want some?”

“Yes,” he said. “I know what coffee is.” Your hand was already sort of extended toward him, so he easily reached out and took it from you. Before you could do anything other than stare in surprise, he had tilted it up to his mouth and drained it in a few quick gulps. “Thank you.”

There was one of the Old Ones sitting on your couch and he had just stolen your coffee. Presumably, it would be a very bad idea to yell at him, but you still kind of wanted to. “Okay,” you said in a barely-restrained voice, “Cool. I guess I did offer.”

Solomon caught the irritation in your tone. “I am truly grateful for your assistance. I will admit that I was unwilling to return home.”

“It probably feels weird that she’d not there anymore, right?” you said. Solomon looked at you for a moment, then gave a tiny, hesitant nod. “I know how that feels.” You paused, swallowing hard. “I lost my dad five years ago now. It was rough. I can’t imagine having to deal with lordship on top of all that.”

Solomon kept looking at you with wide eyes. He didn’t seem to believe that you, a lowly mortal human, could comprehend his feelings. You decided to wait until he was feeling better to be insulted by that. “I am sorry for your loss,” he finally said, sounding a little more robotic than sincere. You decided he probably didn’t get out much.

“It’s okay. It was a while ago.” You leaned back on the couch. “You want to talk about it?”

Solomon kept staring at you. “Talk about it?”

“You know. Say all the stuff you’re feeling. It might help,” you said. He kept looking at you. The concept seemed entirely foreign to him. “Um. Like. How are you feeling right now?”

He looked at you for a long, uncertain moment. “Tired,” he finally said. “I am tired. Of trying to manage land squabbles. Of trying to plan my mother’s funeral. From dealing with all the new responsibilities my position entails.” He rubbed his forehead. “And I miss her. I miss being able to see her. I miss being able to speak with her about her responsibilities. I miss hunting with her.” His voice choked and he made a gulping noise that seemed to surprise him. you reached out and tentatively patted his shoulder.

“I know. It’ll get better. But it’s gonna hurt for a long while,” I said. “It’s gonna be hard.” Solomon gave an absent nod, looking down at his cup. “You know, there’s a grief counseling support group in town. If you want to go to it sometimes, I can take you there. I go there still, when it’s bad.”

Solomon looked blank. “A support group?”

“It’s a group of people who all lost someone important to them who get together and talk about their feelings. And they all help each other. You can learn a lot about dealing with grief from going. And sometimes hearing about other people’s problems can make it easier to deal with your own.” Solomon blinked a few times. His eyes were abruptly watery and you realized you weren’t entirely sure how to deal with him suddenly breaking into tears in your living room. You patted his shoulder awkwardly. “It might help? I think? I know you’re not like most of us, but it could still be good. I don’t think grief is all that different across species.”

He inhaled slowly. There was a little tremble in it, like he was still dangerously close to crying. “I think I would like that,” he said. His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Okay,” you said. “It meets Wednesdays.” You paused. “Do you know what Wednesdays are?”

He snorted. “I have a concept of human time.”

“Oh,” you said. “Okay. Good.” You sat in silence for a few more moments. There was still tiredness in the set of Solomon’s shoulders, but he looked more at peace than he had a few moments ago.

Eventually, he got to his feet. “I should return home,” he said. “I will see you again.” He paused. “And thank you.”

“No problem.” You stood up and started to lead him toward the door. “We support each other, you know?” He nodded.

You stayed up for a while after he left your apartment. It felt strange, that such a conversation had taken place between you and an Old One. They seemed so ancient and remote, and yet you had just had a conversation with one on the loss of a parent. And he had seemed utterly normal.

Odd. Not unpleasant, just… odd.

Your shop was quiet the next day, so you spent much of it working on the commission. Your thoughts were occupied with Solomon. How something so powerful had managed to look so vulnerable- it stuck with you.

Solomon didn’t show up for the next few days, which gave you some time to finish the necklace. It was good work, in your opinion, sturdy and beautiful. The long, antler-like branches were designed to rest on the clavicles and twist up the throat.

The necklace was done in time for the meeting on Wednesday, so you packed it into a box and took it with you to your apartment. You usually brought some sort of food with you to the meetings. It seemed polite, and people usually enjoyed it.

When you emerged from your apartment, Solomon was standing there. He was still wearing his heavy robes, with the thick fur ruff, and it was attracting a lot of stares. He didn’t seem to notice it. His eyes locked onto you as soon as you emerged from the building.

“Hello,” he said. “We are still going together, yes?” Despite his serious expression, there was a note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Yeah, we are,” you said. “Come on. I’ll show you the way there.”

It was a cozy little building that the meetings took place in. There were only four other people in the group, and they all stared at Solomon when he walked in. You gave an awkward wave. “Hey. Uh, this is Solomon. We met, uh, recently, and he wanted to come to the meeting.”

The man who led the group, a bulky and intimidating werewolf, locked eyes with you. His confusion and shock were blatantly written across his face. You tried to communicate your own surprise and bewilderment at the situation, but it was difficult when his eyes kept going back to Solomon. Thankfully, the Old One didn’t seem to have noticed. He just crossed the room and took one of the seats.

The meeting went as usual, except for everyone’s glances at Solomon. If he was bothered by their constant staring, he didn’t show it. You occasionally reached out to pat his hand or his leg. Everyone stared when you did that, like you were casually touching the sun itself. He didn’t speak much, except to give the bare basics of his story. But he paid intent attention to the stories of others, apparently interested in what they were saying.

“So,” you said as you stepped outside after the meeting, “how was that?”

“Interesting,” Solomon said. “Everyone just talked about their loved ones and their feelings.”

“Yeah. It helps to talk about the people you love and how you’re dealing with everything. It helps to know there are other people who care,” you said. “Oh, and, uh, by the way, I brought this with me.” You reached into your pocket and removed the small box.

Solomon delicately opened it and looked down at the necklace. He traced its lines with a finger. His lashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly. “She- My mother would have liked it.”

His voice broke. You leaned into his side, letting him rest some of his weight against you. His tail twined around your leg, as if seeking comfort. “You can cry. Remember? We said it was good to cry.”

Solomon shuddered and tears started to drip down his cheeks. He cried in silence, leaning on you heavily. You allowed him to, only speaking to soothe him.

Eventually, he petered out. You offered him a pack of tissues. He mopped at his face. “Thank you,” he said, voice rusty.

“Of course. Like I said, it’s good to have other people you can count on.” You patted his arm gently.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “I was wondering. The funeral is… soon. Perhaps, if you were willing, you would come with me?” You stared. “You do not need to feel obligated. It is just- you have helped me, recently. I feel that it would be nice to have someone there who understands.”

“Sure,” you said. “I’d be okay with that.” Solomon nodded, then reached into his pocket. He retrieved a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to you. Your mouth dropped open. It was mostly fifties, with several hundred bills wadded up in the middle. “This… I think this is more than we agreed on.”

“You have given me a greater gift than just the necklace, so I feel that I should pay you back in kind.” Solomon squeezed your shoulder. “Thank you. I will see you again soon.”

His form rippled and extended into a massive, serpentine dragon. Its scales reflected opalescently in the sunlight and his antlers gleamed like metal. There were gasps around you, but your eyes were fixed only on him. He looked back at you with a surprising amount of affection for a draconic face, then he swooped upward and vanished. You stared as he vanished into the sky, awe swelling in your chest. “See you again soon,” you said, half to yourself. “And thank you, too.”

#exophilia #dragon #dragon boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #dragon lover

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foximator-blog · 3 years ago

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I finished my first Custom set of Robots for my Electric Heart AU. Two of them aren't necessarily original... but I just think it would be cool to see them in a proper group is all. This adventure happens in place of the first four gameboy titles, when Dr. Wily randomly kidnaps and brainwashes the robots of a young scientist named Dr Lindsey Melody. As usual, Xaiver dons the persona of Mega man and sets out to track down the brainwashed bots, unaware Wily has an even bigger surprise for him later.

First, finally getting some spotlight, Bond man.

Based on one of Dr Light's scrapped concepts, Bond man is a construction robot who uses a strong adhesive where nails and bolts just don't seem to do the trick. He's big into building things with his hands and using his glue for any kind of job, be it a large scale construction project, or a simple paper craft he makes at home. His weapon, Bonding agent, is a glob of construction glue that freezes enemies in place, and it sends flying enemies crashing to the ground. I don't really know if Glue fits with any element... so he's Tech for it being a construction tool. His weakness is the Arctic Spiral, since cold temperatures can make some adhesives weaker and brittle.

Next is Geo woman, my AU equivalent to Quake woman from the archie comics.

Geo woman is a mining robot who specializes in collecting geological samples for scientific studies, who also likes to collect ores and minerals on the side. While some of the other robots find her hobbies a little boring, she's very polite and passionate about what intrests her. Her weapon, the Geode grinder, is a drill that digs along through the ground before turning sharply upwards when it hits an enemy or wall. Her element is Earth, and her weakness is Destructo Blast.

Now for my first original robot master, Kindle man.

Kindle man is a small furnace cleaning robot who cares about his mental spiritual well being. Despite how grumpy he looks, he loves company, and will even share his scented candles with anyone who asks politely. He also likes to attend meditation seminars with Magnet man. His Weapon, the Kindle Blaze, is a flaming match that splits into two flames when it hits a wall, floor, or ceiling, and it sets some enemies on fire. His weakness is the Water Spout, and his element is Fire.

Battery Woman

Battery Woman's job is to build and recharge specialized industrial grade batteries with multiple uses, and she has electrically charged hands and a high powered generator on her back to help with this. Knowing she's a really tall robot, she takes great pride in her height, able to look Guts man in the eye. Her weapon is tge Battery bomb, a battery shaped grenade that bounces around a little before exploding into electricity. Her weakness is the Geode grinder, in reference to electrical grounding, and her element is Tech, since batteries are a machine component.

Destructo Man, cause sometimes you want a TNT plunger robot.

Despite the stylistic fuses and old looking appearance, Destructo man doesn't actually launch bombs. To aid in his demolition of Wily castles or mining, he can send out an electronic signal to detonate any explosives set up by his assistants, or any of Wily's leftover Weapon cache. He has a bit of a temper, so to avoid blowing his top he tries listening to calming music when off duty. To Weaponize his ability, Wily modified his Destructo Blast to send out a specialized signal that causes weapon based electronics within his opponents to self destruct. For mega man, this is a screen wide attack that deals explosives damage to all enemies on screen. His element is Tech, and his weakness is the Fan Slasher, in reference to bomb defusal.

Meet Arctic Woman, who was inspired by some of Chill man's concept art from mm10.

Arctic Woman was built for arctic exploration and research as her name would imply, and she's able to modify an areas temperature to combat the effects of global warming lingering from past generations and the sadly slow efforts for clean energy in some areas. She also likes ice sculpting in her spare time, and she refuses to go anywhere without the special Scarf Needle man knitted for her. Her weapon is the Arctic Spiral, a sheild weapon that spirals outward to attack before returning to the user for defense. Her weakness is the Kindle Blaze, and her element is Water.

Spout Man, who was initially inspired by MM2 concept art for a water boss... but ended up straying away from the faucet nosed design I wanted to mimic initially.

Spout Man was created to maintain the irrigation system of a gigantic green house, and to water the plants inside. Despite his element being Water, he has a wealth of knowledge about gardening and plants. He absolutely dispises locusts, due to how quickly they can devour plants. His weapon is the Water Spout, a pressurized stream of water that bounces on walls, which bursts into splash damage that can hit multiple enemies when it hits a target. His weakness is the Battery bomb... because his water is full of nutrient rich, but conductive minerals.

Finally, there's Sky Woman, who was originally going to be named "Fan woman" but someone else suggested changing her name.

She was built for repairing wind mills, and using the fans on her back to help produce wind energy on days the natural wind gets a bit too weak. While she can blow enemies away from her with those fans, specialized joints they're connected to allow her to angke them or even fly. She loves flying, but hates Seagulls specifically as they seek to go out of their way to fly into her fans on purpose, causing her to crash land. Her Weapon us the Fan Slasher, a throwable blade that hovers in the air a bit, before fkying backwards like a boomerang, only it doesn't come back... Her element is Air, and her weakness is Bonding agent, since the glue stops up her fans.

Of course... there's a special smaller set after this group before I finally Draw the MM5 crew. How did I do?

#megaman #mega man #megaman au #electric heart #robot master #fan made robot masters #bond man #quake woman #mega man fanart

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airi-p4 · 4 years ago

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Face up (songfic) - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Epilogue

Remember my illustrated fic + comic ‘The listening’? I started writing this other songfic around that time, since the song is by the same author. This is everything I could finish for Wipril... *sigh*

Inspired by the song ‘Face up’ by Lights. (Lyrics in bold)

Summary: Marientte is tired. Busy with work, unmotivated and uninspired; her life has become monotonous and lifeless. Regretful for neglecting her friendship with Alya, she finally accepts her invitation to go out one Friday evening to a pirate themed bar called 'Liberty', in which according to Nino, an 'incredible amazing guitarist' was going to play...

AO3

______________________________________________

Chapter 1

' I shouldn't have come '

A mountain of files and clothes are piled on Marinette's desk. Work, work, work and more work. It had been a while now since Marinette's life has been revolving only around her jobs and studies. Days. Weeks. Months. She felt like a robot programmed just for that sole purpose.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was tired.

And so was also her best friend Alya, fed up of being turned down whenever she asked her to go out somewhere together.

But not that evening: Alya and Nino decided to drag Marinette out of her lonely apartment, to let her enjoy a proper and well deserved break after days without seeing the daylight. 'How can a 21 year old Lady not go out and have fun!? ' Alya had asked her. And she had been forced to accept, out of the regret of constantly failing and neglecting their friendship.

The chosen place for their friendly meeting was a musical bar on a ship called 'Liberty'. Small round tables and some stools were ready to be used for its consumers, 2-4 seats for table. Some wooden benches with comfortable looking cushions at the sides of the bar and some stand-by tables outside were also part of the ship's furniture. Both outside and interior design seemed to be trying to imitate a pirate ship with dark wooden flooring, walls, stage and counter. Some vintage rock music related posters were on the wall, next to treasure maps and, surprisingly, they still managed to keep the pirate theme on point. The counter was just at the entrance and the lights were focused mostly to the stage at the back of the bar, making the lighting quite low for the guests- 'too dark to draw' , Marinette confirmed.

According to Nino, the best thing about this bar was that, on Friday nights, it held multiple artists performances from 8pm to 12pm, an hour each. And according to him, some awesome guitarist was playing at 11pm. His eyes were showing his contagious enthusiasm and Alya soon got excited too.

But Marinette's mind was not focused on the bar or the music. It was 10:25pm, and Alya had dragged Marinette there early- at 8:40- so they could get a table- the limited seat capacity and amount of customers surely proved it was necessary, but she couldn't focus on her surroundings as in her head thousands of work-related thoughts occupied her mind.

To draw, sew, bake, study and to sleep in order to work more, all in an endless loop. That had been Marinette's routine for weeks, and she had no intentions of stopping until she finished all her constantly coming errands- but they were endless. She felt like a robot programmed only to work and she almost forgot what free time was.

'I want to go home', the aspiring fashion designer kept repeating to herself.

But the guests of the bar seemed to favor her best friend's ideas: enjoying the music. Marinette's eyes took a minute to observe her surroundings, noticing how crowded the bar was getting as 11pm approached. At her side, Marinette could see how excited Alya and the recently arrived Nino were, clapping and dancing next to her.

But Marinette was not feeling it. Not at all.

A big sigh left her mouth as she used the table as she played unamused with the melting ice cubes from her drink, trying to ignore the strident rock background music. She was exhausted and not in the mood for 'fun'. She was tired and her eyelids were slowly closing, but just when her mind started to find its way to dreamland, Alya called for her attention.

"Look, Marinette! The guests in the second row middle table are about to leave! It's our chance to get a closer seat to the stage!"

"Ugh…"

The stage was just a few steps away, but it seemed like kilometers to the young woman.

"C'mon, Marinette! Nino secured the seats! Grab your drink and stuff and let's go over here!"

Exhaustion and somnolence confused Marinette's senses while Alya jolted and called her.

"C'mooon… Nino can't keep looking for our seats forever! Not when there are so many people eyeing up those stools!"

Marinette knew Alya was correct. And not only that: she was pretty impatient and intense, too, so she was well aware that refusing her was almost impossible.

Finally, she made it to the closer to the stage table and had a slurp of her drink. 'Maybe Alya is right and I can try to enjoy the live performances?' .

She tried, yes. But nothing. She wasn't feeling the music.

'When will I be able to have fun too? When will I be able to have a rest and forget about work? When will I be able to enjoy life? When will I be able to LIVE my life…? '

I just want to feel alive

She was stressed. No inspiration seemed to strike her lately, and she had been too busy to go look for it. And honestly, she didn't expect to find some in this old-fashioned dark pirate themed bar. With those thoughts, Marinette rested her head on her hands wishing for the time to go faster so she could already go back home.

The bar became more than full when the clock pointed to 11pm.

Marinette frowned her eyebrows. "Can I go home now that the performance is over?" She asked.

Alya directed her a deathly glare and Nino gasped in shock. "No way, dudette! You can't be serious!" The boy then pointed to their surroundings. "See? All these people gathered here to see the musician I told you about! His talent is no joke, just look at that!" An excited Nino commented, showing her how people were even waiting outside of the bar and even outside the ship in order to listen to his music, as she could see through the round fisheye windows. Was it even allowed to have so many guests on the ship? Wasn't it overcrowded? Or going to sink? Marinette worried. 'Why should I worry when I'm already sinking myself, huh? '

"I'm getting all excited already!! Look at that, Marinette" Alya commented. But Marinette was not answering. She was playing with a straw in between her teeth, instead. "Marinette!!" Her friend insisted, but emerging turbulent bubbles on her drink was her only response.

"Oh, look! He's here!" Nino suddenly exclaimed, and both her friends seemed to forget about her to focus on the stage. 'Maybe it's my chance to leave when they aren't looking' , she thought, but she had to wait until Alya's arm stopped being linked with hers to make her move. She hoped for that moment to be soon.

"Wohooo" the crowd became loud immediately after Nino's said guitarist appeared on the stage from the back door.

Marinette didn't even look. She wasn't interested. She just wanted to get home, finish her work, sleep, and get some well deserved hot bath to relax.

"Good evening. My name is Luka. Wow, so crowded today! I can see some new faces... Hi there. Thank you all for coming"

'His voice sounds nice' Marinette thought, taking a quick look at him for the first time: blue hair, tattoos, piercings and an electric guitar on his hands. There was a stool ready for him, but he was not using it. His aura definitely stood out and he was glowing in the stage lights.

Before starting, he played a few random notes, to check the guitar and the volume. The crowd was excited just with that. Not interested in the music, Marinette let her mind travel to her work space again, taking mental notes on how to proceed with her commissions when she made it home.

"Today's first song is an oldie: 'Space show' by CrocoDuo"

It took only an instant for the aura of the bar to change completely. The audience was losing it at the combined sound of his voice and guitar. Some young women were fangirling and squealing. Nino's eyes were sparkling and Alya's body moved, dancing along with the music.

'He's good' Marinette thought, trying to stop her fingers from tapping on her chin at the music's rhythm. As the song was close to its end, during its instrumental part, the blue haired young man took a big look at the audience, grinning at the excited crowd. Marinette closed her eyes and tried to focus again on her mental work, frowning her nose and eyebrows hard, trying hard to concentrate on finding whatever inspiration she could in the music. But she didn't seem to get it right.

As the last notes of the song elongated, the musician spoke again.

"Oooh? What do we have here…? Don't you know the rules, lady? No sad faces allowed on this ship!"

Marinette was unaware the guitarist was talking to her until Alya bumped her elbow to her ribs to catch her attention and pointed to the stage.

"What?"

She was surprised to find the guitarist staring at her eyes. ' He's handsome ' her inner self told her when their eyes locked and she was feeling called by its blueness. Her smile remained unseen, confused and unsure if it was really her the one he was talking to, but her heart skipped at the eye contact.

"Yes, there, the lady on the second row, you… you seem to be feeling like this" he said, and then played some chords that seemed to describe the feelings of her repetitive, uninspired and unmotivated life perfectly.

She felt like her secret had just been exposed to all the customers of the bar. Embarrassment was too much to handle, and she kept her head low. As the famous song says: 'Killing me softly with his song'.

"A beautiful lady like you deserves to feel something like this" he said, and the music this time brought her back to her cheerful and happy childhood memories, something she hadn't felt for years. ' Wow. How can he do it? '

"Let me try to cheer you up". He placed his electric guitar aside and grabbed his acoustic instead. After adjusting it, he sat on the stool and brought the microphone to his mouth. Then, a totally different melancholic sound started filling the bar as he tested the strings. The audience seemed pleased and curious. "That's rare for him" Nino whispered, making Marinette's eyes open even bigger.

Suddenly, accurately and quickly, his eyes darted to meet directly at Marinette's eyes, with a soft but determined gaze that conflicted Marinette's unprepared heart.

The times you don't wanna wake up

'Cause in your sleep it's never over when you give up

'Wow… I surely look depressed, don't I?' Marinette thought, surprised of how the lyrics fit with her daily thoughts.

The sun is always gonna rise up

You need to get up, gotta keep your head up

Look at the people all around you

The way you feel is something everybody goes through

Marinette then looked at Alya and Nino, who were nodding with a sympathetic smile at her. The rest of the people at the bar seemed to agree with the lyrics too, nostalgic smiles on their peaceful faces. ' Is it ok to feel like this? Am I really not alone? ' The song continued.

Dark out, but you still gotta light up

You need to wake up, gotta keep your face up

The lyrics were surely… encouraging. Marinette could feel her heart become lighter and more confident, relaxed too. She then focused again on the guitarist, who had a kind expression on his face that almost made her fall for him. Almost ?

"C'mon, everybody, help me cheer this pretty lady up!" he said, his smile softly widening as he repeated the lyrics of the song. Soon, the audience joined to sing with him and Marinette felt embarrassed but touched at the kindness of all those strangers towards her. Alya put a supportive hand on her shoulder too, encouraging her to join the chorus.

And finally her face lit up and she started singing a little after remembering the lyrics. Her face was not looking down anymore and an honest shy smile was finally on her face.

Alya looked relieved, while Nino had an: ' I told you he was good ' smirk on his face. Meanwhile, the guitarist never stopped smiling at her.

Luka's gaze was dangerous for Marinette's heart, as a pleasant warmth began to occupy it. A feeling she hadn't felt for a long time was now threatening to stay, sinking deeper inside her heart with every syllable he sang.

"See? That's much better. You have a beautiful smile. Don't hide it!" Marinette blushed at his compliment and she couldn't stop smiling like a lovestruck fool.

After winking at her, Luka continued with his performance. "Ready to enjoy some rock and roll now? Next is 'Rock Giant' by Jagged Stone"

Marinette's favorite song. Did he know that too? ' Wow! It sounds even better than the original' . As soon as he started to play and sing Jagged's most iconic melody, Marinette was finally loosened up to enjoy the music. It was the fastest an hour that had passed for her while having fun. Wow . And she was grinning at the excitement, while trying not to freak out at the short glances and smiles the musician directed to her from time to time, or the long stares she pretended to not notice. She could notice her heart beating again after what it seemed like an eternity.

She felt alive. More than she had felt in months, maybe years.

But the performance had a set time to end...

"Thank you for coming. That's all for today. You're the best!" he grinned, while wiping some of the sweat drops that ran down his face. It was obvious he gave it his best and the audience was all in for it. Marinette had never seen anyone able to enthrall the public like this before. He was… absolutely amazing in the crowd's eyes, Marinette's included.

"Noooo!! Encore encore encore!" the bar customers started begging in loud voices, and Luka couldn't keep his gratitude to himself, as his fond smile showed. He looked at his surroundings, slowly, memorizing every face, as if thanking each of them individually. Until his kind yet powerful gaze stopped to focus directly on Marinette's pupils and his smile widened.

"You want an encore, guys? What does the lady on the second row say?" he teased with a smirk that made Marinette's knees weak. She could feel her face flushing red as the people of the bar's eyes focused on her.

"E- Encore!" She shouted in a voice she wasn't aware she owned.

"So you want an encore, right? Very well. Here's the last song for today: ' Liberty ' by Luka".

The energetic and happy cheering for the encore audience lasted only until Luka's guitar strings started to vibrate to form a melody.

"No way, dude!! A Luka inédite original song! Alya, we have to record this!" Nino fuzzed, pulling his phone out from his pocket. "Awesome!"

The song was amazing and had the audience lose it. 'Wow' . Marinette was speechless and she could feel the adrenaline flow through her body like it hadn't for years. Unable to tear her focus from the musician, the young woman could feel her heart beating faster- too fast.

When the song finished Marinette noticed how half the audience was crying in excitement and how the fangirling women from before were close to passing out. It was a very good song with good lyrics about looking for your inner freedom- totally fitting for Marinette. And his final greetings started.

"Thank you. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah!!! Wohoo!!!"

"Great, I'm glad. Thank you so much!" he giggled. "Thanks to you, it seems I have a new song to write" Luka said, with his sharp eyes and slightly curved smile hinting those words were meant for a certain lady seated on the second row. "And remember: the Liberty is a place where you can be free, honest to yourself. Feel free to come here anytime. Everyone is welcome here. Well, except agent Roger, maybe?" Luka said, pointing at the grey haired woman at the counter, who laughed at his comment. "Good night, everyone!"

Before leaving the stage through the back door, Luka exchanged one final look with Marinette and waved at her. Or so she wanted to believe, even if she wasn't sure.

‘ He’s so hot ’. Marinette fanned herself with her hand and drank all the alcohol that remained on her cup. It wasn't cold anymore and she needed to cool down, so she stopped the goth waitress with long purple hair to order a drink, and a minute later the small blond short-haired waitress brought it to her. She drank it in one shot, mouth dry from the shouting and her burning cheeks and quickly beating heart.

"Hot much?" Alya teased her best friend, with a knowing smirk.

"I told you he was lit! Wow! He even played a brand-new original song! You don't know how lucky we are. We have to come back again sometime soon!" Nino enthusiastically exclaimed. "A man like that is going to make it big in no time. We won't get the chance to get to listen to him like this when he becomes internationally famous"

Marinette couldn't help it but to agree. He was amazing… in all aspects. Maybe… it wasn't a bad thing she came…

No. It definitely wasn't.

"Yeah… maybe live performances aren't bad… maybe… we should come again, yes…" Marinette said under her friend's satisfied and knowing smile.

Who would have thought she would find inspiration on a pirate ship themed bar? She had unwillingly come and found something she didn't regret, as she found something even more unexpected: a crush on a talented guitarist.

And even though she was not sure if she was ready to pursue someone or to start a relationship, she knew she didn't want the clock of her life to keep spinning around a monotonous life, and she had just felt the way she had been wishing to feel for years; ALIVE.

'Yes… I'll definitely come back again'

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #songfic #lukanette fic

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unholyobsessions · 4 years ago

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Sunset Coffee

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Julie develops a crush on the cute barista, little does she know he feels the same way

Warnings: none i think

Word Count: 3.5k

Prompt for jatp week Day 2: Write an AU. Modern AU / Coffee Shop AU @jatp-week

The bell above the door dings as Julie pushes it open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills her nostrils and she scrunches her face. She dislikes coffee, always has, too bitter for her taste, but she loves hot chocolate. Her mom used to make it for her at least twice a week and for a year after her mom’s passing, she made it her goal to find a coffee shop that made it as good as her mom did.

Sunset Coffee is a small shop in the corner of a small suburban neighborhood. It’s hidden behind the façade of a one story home, the only evidence of its existence being the small sign by the front lawn and on the door and the amazing yelp reviews left by their devoted customers.

Julie discovered it by accident. She was riding her bike around aimlessly through the city when she had the sudden urge to use the bathroom. Deciding to knock on the friendliest looking house, she was surprised to see the sign by the door. She went in carefully, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere created by the music playing softly in the background, and a number of college-looking students on their laptops or with textbooks opened around them. She went up to the island at the corner of the room, being used as a makeshift counter, and asked the barista on the other side if she could use their bathroom. The girl, looking no older than nineteen, smiled and pointed her in the correct direction.

Julie smiled back and rushed to the empty hallway, opening the door and walking in to do her business. She decides to stick around, going back to the counter and asking the question she has asked at dozens of other coffee shops.

“Do you sell hot chocolate?” The smile she receives in return answers her question. She stands by the counter as she waits for her drink, allowing her eyes to drift over the room. The walls are covered with different types of hand writing. Quotes from books, movies, or tv shows. Jokes, phone numbers, emails, and instagram handles. Theres a basket by the door, she notes, filled to the brim with different color markers, encouraging people to express themselves.

She receives her drink and she takes it, handing her the exact amount of change. She decides to explore the rest of the rooms, intrigued with the nice shop. The next room has couches instead of chairs and the walls are painted with chalk paint. There’s drawings, to-do lists, and so much more written on the walls. She smiles and takes the first sip of her drink. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she knows that she will never get a hot chocolate from anywhere else. It’s not quite the same as her mom’s but the difference is what makes it so good.

There’s a hint of cinnamon hidden behind the rich taste of chocolate and Julie finds herself closing her eyes, savoring the moment. She continues exploring, keeping a grasp of the mug. There is a total of four rooms. The entry one, the chalk one, one with bright red booths, mimicking an 80s looking diner, complete with a jukebox in the corner, and the last one that has normal black tables with gold accented walls. There are autographed picture frames of famous people who Julie assumes have visited the coffee shop hanging on the walls.

After finishing the drink, Julie places the mug in the sink by the corner meant for all used mugs and glasses. She bids goodbye to the barista and leaves, making note of the address and promising herself to be back soon. She went back two days later and has been there almost everyday. She goes after school, to do either her homework or work on some songs.

She looks up from her phone, ready to greet Flynn, who she became fast friends with and no longer has to even ask what she’s having, already having the drink prepped since seeing her pull up. She is however met by a male voice, welcoming her into the shop. Julie’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and she freezes. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone as attractive as the man standing before her. She clears her throat and continues walking forward, already pulling out her wallet from her backpack. She hands him the exact amount needed as she always does and he merely raises an eyebrow.

“Umm what are you having?”

Julie gapes at him, feeling stupid for her actions. “Oh! Right. A hot chocolate please. Sorry, Flynn already knows what I order so it’s a force of habit.” The man chuckles and presses a few buttons on the cash register, taking the money from her and handing her the receipt a few seconds later.

“No worries, I normally work mornings but Flynn called in sick so I offered to come in today.” He walks back to make her drink and Julie stands awkwardly by, gripping the straps of her backpack. He turns back and hands her the cup with a smile. “So with Flynn knowing your drink I’m guessing you’re a regular?” He asks, hoping to start a conversation with the pretty girl.

“Yeah,” Julie looks down for a second. “I’m Julie.” She would have offered her hand for a handshake but considering her grip on the mug, she decides it’s a bad idea.

“I’m Luke.” He slightly bites his lip and Julie has to try her best not to swoon over him. She nods her head and takes a step back going to sit in one of the empty tables. She normally opts for the couches in the chalk room but for some reason (certainly not the attractive barista) she decides to stay in the front room today.

Luke Patterson’s parents have owned Sunset Coffee since he can remember. The quaint little house on a suburban street owned by his grandparents was left to his family after their passing. The decision to remodel came after his dad lost his job, and the extra house in his name left room for ideas. He remembers sitting with his parents at the kitchen table as they decided what to do with it and his small, seven-year-old voice, speaking his opinion.

“We can sell coffee!”

Of course Luke didn’t drink coffee, but he hears the compliments given to his father’s coffee every time they have company over. To him it’s just a bitter drink he had once but from what he’s seen and heard, it’s seen as a necessity by adults.

His parents were a bit skeptical at first but the idea grew on them and they got to work. His mother designed the rooms, taking inspiration from the internet and his father took care of the menu, trying different concoctions that would often be served with dinner, decaf for young Luke of course.

Once it opened, it took a while for people to notice the hidden gem but once they did, everyone loved it. Although not known by many, those who come once normally decide to keep coming, loving the atmosphere it holds.

He started working there when he turned sixteen. At first he took the afternoon shift since he was still in high school, but after graduating he much preferred working mornings, since that left all of his afternoon free to practice with his band.

He’s known his bandmates all of his life. Living next door to Bobby made them friends by default and when they started first grade, they were introduced to both Alex and Reggie and the four have been inseparable ever since. They formed Sunset Curve freshmen year, naming themselves after their designated hangout spot.

They’re always hanging around when Luke has a shift, which is why it is not surprising when they burst through the door of the coffee shop as he is distracted, staring at Julie. The yell of his name breaks his trance and he rolls his eyes at the sight that greets him.

Reggie is draped over Bobby’s back, eyes drooping shut, probably from staying up all night writing his beloved country songs. Alex is smiling lovingly down at his phone and Luke makes a mental note of to tease him about that later.

They make their way to Luke and he tells them to go wait for his shift to be over in the diner room and then they could discuss their next gig. He tries his best to usher them away quickly, knowing that he will find it easier to work up the nerve to talk to Julie without them in the same room. They eye him suspiciously but ultimately ignore his strange attitude, walking away and down the hallway.

As this happens, Julie is opening her laptop and slipping on her earphones, her Spotify is opened to her ‘You Can Do It’ playlist and she hopes that this will encourage her to actually write her Common App essay. She is consistently drinking from the mug, finishing her hot chocolate sooner than expected.

After his friends finally decide to leave him alone he looks back to the pretty girl, lost in the her own little word. He is shocked to find the empty mug already placed on the table, and he is sure he has never seen anyone drink a hot chocolate that fast. He makes the quick decision to make her another one because by the way she has settled into her seat, it looks like she is going to be here for a while.

A few minutes later, Julie is startled when Luke picks up the empty cup and places new warm beverage, complete with whipped cream on the top, in front of her. She slips off one earbud and turns to him.

“Oh I didn’t order another one,” which as she thinks back, is a pretty stupid thing to say because of course he knows that she didn’t order another one, considering the fact that she has not moved from her spot.

“I know, it’s on the house,” he smiles at her and Julie swears it’s like looking at the rising sun. So bright, but beautifully enchanting that it makes it impossible to look away.

“Thank you,” she says, slightly embarrassed because she doesn’t know if he’s flirting or if he is just being considerate.

Of course Luke is flirting with her, and he hopes to God it’s working. He wants to ask for her number, but as he spots her laptop and sees the screen he suddenly deflates. There is a list of prestigious colleges open next to her google doc filled with essay prompts. He however, barely graduated and is not even in community college as he waits for his band to make it big. He has never been insecure about his decisions, and is actually extremely proud of what the band has accomplished, but as he stands before this beautiful and obviously intelligent girl, he suddenly feels as if his accomplishments are not good enough.

So instead of asking her out as he originally planned to, he walks away. He continues to stare at her though, and if he starts asking Flynn to switch shifts with him more often then it’s merely a coincidence.

. . .

It takes a month of endless pining for his friends to finally attempt to knock some sense into him.

It’s the eighteenth time that Luke has asked Flynn to change shifts with him in order to see Julie and speak to her for a few minutes. Flynn definitely knows what’s going on, and knows full well that Luke’s crush is reciprocated because of her many late night phone calls with Julie. She, of course, doesn’t say anything, simply agreeing to take the morning shift, and sending a quick text to Julie telling her that her knight in shining armor will be working that day. This text normally leads to Julie clearing her schedule and going to the coffee shop if she wasn’t planning to already.

Their interactions normally go as follows:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink, and gives her a compliment. “I like your jacket.” Julie will blush and avert her eyes, speaking a soft “Thank you” before taking the drink and paying. If she’s feeling confident (normally caused by a good score on a test that day) she’ll compliment him back. “I like your t-shirt” which normally translates to ‘I listen to that band as well.’ Luke will grin and then Julie will walk away.

It drives them both crazy because this is how they actually want their interactions to go:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink and gives her a compliment. “You look beautiful today.” Julie thanks him and compliments him back with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She takes the drink and pays but before she can walk away Luke stops her. “Do you maybe want to go out sometime?” Julie internally screams but keeps her cool on the outside, not wanting to seem desperate. “Yes, definitely.” They look away bashfully and Julie takes the seat closest to the counter, keeping conversation with Luke for the rest of his shift.

It never happens and it annoys all the regulars who have picked up on their feelings for each other.

Today, Julie finds herself receiving a text from Flynn which is why she is now pedaling in the direction of Sunset Coffee. There is a nice, light wind that rustles her hair as she bikes across the city. She stops in front of her favorite place, kicking down the stand and placing the bike behind the fence. She smiles at Luke, who, as per usual, sends her a grin and a wave from behind the counter.

Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, sit on the table closest to Luke, sending him teasing smiles that cause him to blush. He turns to make Julie’s regular hot chocolate as she takes out the exact change from her wallet. They all eye the exchange, wondering if today will finally be the day one of them makes a move. They are disappointed to see the two exchange nothing more than shy smiles and thank you before Julie walks away and into another room.

Luke turns back to his friends, ready to continue their conversation about the gig on Saturday to find them all glaring at him. He quickly raises his hands up in defense, rushing out a “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” Alex says. Which is followed by “Agreed” and “I second that” by both Reggie and Bobby respectively.

“You’ve been in love with her since the second you laid eyes on her. Even Reggie noticed and he is as oblivious as it gets,” Alex continues. Reggie points his finger in agreement, seemingly ignoring the dig at him.

Luke looks down at his feet, already embarrassed out how glaringly obvious he is. “It’s just,” he pauses and his friends wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “She’s too good for me. I mean she’s applying to universities right now and not just any random colleges, she’s going for the good ones, Ivys, UCs, that’s more than I ever did. I almost failed out of high school. I’m a knock-off Luke Hemmings doing nothing with his life.”

Insecure is not a trait anyone would normally use to describe Luke. Cocky, passionate, attractive? Sure, but never insecure. They’re all even more surprised at his reasons for not asking a girl out. He normally uses the band as a way to attract people to him, he’s never hidden it in shame.

“Luke you are literally one of the most talented people I have ever met,” Bobby starts. “Just because you crave success in something other than academics it doesn’t make you a failure. If she doesn’t realize how insanely amazing you are then she’s not the one and that’s that.” Luke looks up at him and he’s extremely glad that today is a slow day and the shop is basically empty because he’s almost sure he’s about to cry.

“Go ask her out man,” Reggie says.

“And if she says no then you can just go back to working mornings,” Alex offers. Luke throws a dirty dishrag at him and they all laugh. Luke then takes a deep breath and starts making another hot chocolate to take to Julie, almost sure that she is probably already done with hers.

He holds the drink carefully in his hands and makes his way down the hallway, finding her in the chalk wall room. She’s holding a pencil tight in her head and her eyes are closed. She’s tapping her foot at an even beat before suddenly stopping and writing something down. Her open laptop with a half done essay sits abandoned next to her.

Luke taps her shoulder, startling her out of her daze. She smiles up at him and it only widens once she sees the mug he’s carrying.

“I figured you might want another one,” he shrugs his shoulders as she takes it gratefully.

“You know, you don’t have to keep giving me free drinks,” she says before taking a long sip of the warm beverage.

Luke scratches the back of his neck gives himself a mental pep talk, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Well, if I’m being honest, I keep doing it trying to work up the courage to ask you out.” He fiddles with the apron tied around his waist and looks at her, trying to decipher what she’s thinking.

Julie doesn’t know what she’s thinking. The guy she has been simping over for a month just said he wants to ask her out, she focuses her energy on swallowing the sip she already had in her mouth without choking before looking up at him. She gets a sudden wave of confidence (she aced her calculus test) and she opens her mouth to speak. “And have you? Built up the courage I mean.”

She sends him a dazzling smile and Luke is sure that he is about to faint but he manages to keep his composure. “I sure hope so,” he mumbles under his breath before saying, “Julie will you like to go on a date with me?”

“I would love to.” They smile at each other before they both look away, suddenly bashful. “How about Saturday?” Julie suggests.

“Actually my band and I have a gig on Saturday,” Luke says slightly embarrassed but then he remembers what Bobby said and stands up straighter. “Actually, will you like to go? To the gig. It’s nothing big really, it’s in this club but it’s supposed to be really packed on Saturdays so we’re hoping it will be good exposure.”

Julie’s eyes widen in surprise, cursing Flynn for not telling her that Luke is in a band because it suddenly made him a hundred times more attractive. “Yes! Oh my gosh I would love to go. I love music, I’m actually applying to be a music major.” Now it’s Luke’s turn to be surprised.

“You play?” He sits down in front of her, his job suddenly forgotten, but he’s confident that one of the guys will take over if a customer comes in. They’ve seen him make orders enough times to know how to do it.

Julie nods. “The piano, my mom taught me when I was young and I fell in love with it. I don’t know what I want to do with it though so I’m hoping to double major in music and something else.”

Luke quickly realizes that his insecurities were completely misplaced. “That’s really cool. I play guitar and I’m the lead singer. Not that I’m bragging!” He is quick to defend himself, not wanting to seem overly confident and Julie giggles.

“When did you start playing?”

“My parents bought me an acoustic guitar when I was six, hoping that it would make me stop running around the house so much. They never expected their son to refuse to go to college to pursue his rock band though.” Luke shrugs at the end, his parents are supportive of him, they weren’t for a while but they came around and go to a lot of his gigs.

“I think it’s really admirable,” Julie says. Luke raises his eyebrows, a silent request for her to elaborate. “To be so passionate about something, to know what you want to do with that passion, and pursuing it no matter what.”

Luke knows he is blushing and is about to say something when Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, pop their heads into the room.

“Did you do it?” “Did she say yes?” “Did you choke?” Are all questions his best friends ask. Luke sighs and shakes his head and Julie does her best to bite back a laugh.

“I did do it. She’s coming to the show on Saturday.” His friends cheer and Julie is unable to contain her laughter.

The guys all rush into the room and introduce themselves to Julie keeping her company as Luke goes back to work.

. . .

Julie goes to their show on Saturday, and every single one of their shows after that. And her decision to accept UCLA’s offer in April was definitely not influenced by her relationship with the cute barista.

#jatp #jatpweek #julie molina #Julie and Luke #luke patterson #luke and julie #julie x luke #luke x julie #juke #palina #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #sunset curve

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sol-rising · 4 years ago

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— dramione fanfic recommendations bc i don’t have a life;

[CHERRY] No one asked for this but I don’t have a life and I read a lot so.... why not? Majority of these are either on AO3 or FFN.

— ONESHOTS;

Best Shot by AccioMjolnir [Mature, 24k words]

Summary: It's eighth year and Hermione is trying to navigate her post-war friendship with Draco Malfoy and a relationship with Ron Weasley when she gets an unexpected visit from someone who knows her better than anyone: herself. Thrown back from the future, an older Hermione drops a bombshell on her: she has only three days to set things right, or Draco dies.

Amateur Cartography by worksofstone [Teen & Up Audiences, 21k words]

Summary: That one-night stand with Draco Malfoy was a mistake. Hermione doesn't make mistakes, or at least she isn't supposed to. She's working hard at her Ministry career, however frustrating and pointless her job may be, and she's also got to live up to everyone's expectations as Hogwarts's most famous Muggle-born and a top-tier War Hero. So, why is she still sleeping with Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and infamous pureblood? And why isn't she certain that she wants to stop?

A Muggle-born Magic by Musyc [Mature, 50k words]

Summary: Regency-era AU. Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.

Ice by senlinyu [Teen & Up Audiences, 5.1k words]

Summary: Hermione works in Gringotts’ Records Department when Draco Malfoy comes on staff as a curse-breaker. His icy presence drags up memories she’s desperate to move on from and forget. She tries to ignore him, but every time she sees him, she feels chilled to the bone. DHr Advent 2018.

Fallin' (Adrenaline) by LeilahMoon [Teen & Up Audiences, 4.5k words]

Summary: When Professor McGonagall encourages all Hogwarts students to participate in a mentor scheme designed to promote inter-House unity, Hermione Granger is thrilled; she can’t wait to embrace the opportunity for further education. Unfortunately, she's not able to choose who she is allocated to and, when her mentor turns out to be Draco Malfoy, she’s certain she won’t learn anything at all.

The Two Sided Triangle by Canttouchthis [Teen & Up Audiences, 5.2k words]

Summary: In which Daily Prophet reporter Hermione Granger inadvertently becomes a superhero and her partner, the intrepid Draco Malfoy finds himself smitten. In other words, a Dramione inspired by Superman and Lois Lane.

Now Is A Gift by senlinyu [Teen & Up Audiences, 5k words]

Summary: Hermione is determined to give meaningful Christmas gifts to everyone in her Ministry department.

Everyone.

Even that anti-social arse Malfoy.

DHr Advent 2019.

riddle me this by megamegaturtle [General Audiences, 8k words]

Summary: Their fingers touch when Draco hands her the paper and Hermione's heart almost jumps out of her chest.

The note reads: How do you spell ‘cute boy’ with only two letters? -Riddle Me This

Hermione finds herself grinning. “Cutie. Q-T. That’s the answer to the riddle. You’re a cutie, Malfoy.”

[the one where someone leaves Draco Malfoy riddles to solve from the local coffee shop's community board and he enlists Hermione Granger for help.]

(Written for 2020 DFW Trope Fest: Double Trouble)

Library Rendezvous by WickedlyAwesomeMe [Fiction T, 2.9k words]

Summary: Hermes Granger just wanted to finish his homework in peace but of course, she always had to ruin his plans. Male!Hermione Granger/Female!Draco Malfoy. Genderbender

Relentless (Hogwarts Era Series) by realjane (Series of Connected Oneshots)

Height by senlinyu [Explicit, 8.7k words]

Summary: “Tall? That’s what you think I should notice about Malfoy? His height?”

Ginny quirked an eyebrow and licked the tip of her quill suggestively. ”Well, isn’t that your thing? Lockhart. Krum. McLaggen. Ron. The only thing they have in common is being tall enough to give me a neck ache.

”Hermione felt her ears grow hot, and she gripped her book tighter. “I don’t have a thing for tall men. Their height is—completely coincidental.”

Dramione Height Differences Minifest 2020.

Diamond Heart by artemisgirl [Fiction T, 8k words]

Summary: When Hermione approaches Draco Malfoy proposing a fake relationship between the two of them as part of a scheme, he's eager enough to participate - the potential benefits outweigh any costs on his time. But as it all progresses, Draco finds himself wondering what it would be like if what was 'fake' was real.

The Spring’s Chosen by artemisgirl [Fiction T, 5.5k words]

Summary: A golden unicorn appearing on the Malfoy grounds sends the Manor into a flurry of activity, to the confusion of one Draco Malfoy. It's just a unicorn that happens to be gold - isn't it? DMHG

Courting Customs Most Sacred by HeyJude19 [Twoshot, Mature, 15k words]

Summary: Published in 1862 by Lady Apollonia Nott, Courting Customs Most Sacred is the comprehensive text for any pureblood family seeking to arrange suitable matches for their children. It’s also patently ridiculous and not at all appropriate for the modern era of dating. It is certainly not how one should woo Hermione Granger, at any rate.

— ON-GOING/WIPs;

Come Let Us Adore Him by thiscitychickk [Not Rated]

Summary: Hermione Granger scoured the subreddits, perused the checklists, and read virtually everything possible on how to be an all star Congressional intern and staffer. She had her job responsibilities well in hand, but instructions on how to handle the attention of an upstart Congressman Draco Malfoy were nowhere to be found. US politics AU: Congressional staffer Hermione, Congressman Draco

and with you, i fall by passionesque [Mature]

Summary: With Narcissa Malfoy striking a deal for her family — protection for information, the last thing anyone wants is Draco Malfoy seeking refuge within the heart of the Order.

It would’ve been easy, Hermione thinks. So easy for her to hex him back to Voldemort’s clutches for all that he’s said and done, but being the bleeding soft-hearted Gryffindor she is, she doesn't.

* * * * *

“You should hate me,” he murmurs, flicking his gaze to her from beneath his lashes.

She should, Hermione knows this. She really ought to hate him, but the memory of the haunted look in his eyes and the hoarse screams of his nightmares echoes through her mind and eases the storm in her heart.

She doesn’t. She can’t.

“You’re right,” Hermione says soberly. “I should. But I don’t.”

Post HBP. Canon-Divergent. HG/DM.

Love In A Time Of the Zombie Apocalypse by andgladly [Mature]

Summary: After Voldemort, there was this. The clock is ticking to create a cure to the unimaginable horror that currently grips the world. Hermione finds herself unwillingly allied with the most hated man in Wizarding Britain.

The Alkahest by Shadukiam [Mature]

Summary: The Marriage Law, once enacted, has the power to destroy Hermione's perfectly normal life. Luckily, she and Ron are already planning to obey the horrific law together as a team... Until a Malfoy-shaped wrench gets thrown into the works. Dramione.

In the Arms of Her Dragon by Wolf Blossom [Mature]

Summary: A random act of kindness (the life-or-death kind) draws together Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger in a way that nobody saw coming. The duo, in fact, did not want anybody learn the secret of their relationship, but their hope was in vain. All of Hogwarts, nay, England suddenly knew about their union. "Nobody said this would be easy, bookworm." Malfoy drawled. "Shut. Up. Malfoy."

Time Twisters by themirrorminder.372259 [Fiction T]

Summary: Narcissa ignores the sharp smile her little brother wears after Bella's funeral, in the same way that Lily ignores the ravenous gaze her little sister aims towards Knockturn Alley. However, Albus Dumbledore cannot ignore the ominous friendship between Draco Black and Hermione Evans, not when he hears blood dripping from their joined hands. {TimeTravel} {DRAMIONE} {Marauder's Era}

Beautiful Incongruence by charlie_weasleys_gf [Teen & Up Audiences]

Summary: “You are not an easy person to talk to, Granger.”

“Well, you haven’t made the prospect of talking to you sound very exciting."

Hermione Granger was ready for her third year at Hogwarts-that was, until it was interrupted by time turners and apologising assholes.

In which Draco Malfoy apologises (a lot).

How to Move On by longdistance [Mature]

Summary: It's been nearly a decade since the war. A long time since she locked herself away. A long time since he faced his mistakes. She's what he wants. He's what she needs. It's time for both of them to figure out how to move on.

Through the eyes of blind love by Mixilip1 [Mature]

Summary: Torn between the heart and love of two souls thou shall find theeself. Post-war.

Following the war, Hermione finds herself not-so-happily dating Ron, but it seems she can't keep herself away from a certain blonde Slytherin who's determined to finally make her his witch. After hearing a prophecy about her future, she thinks her life might change for good, but what she doesn't know is that the prophecy also included a veela in it.

"Granger, don't be nervous. Just look at me and let go." He said, grabbing her chin, and her brown eyes met his.This is a story about love triangles and veelas. Veela AU

flesh and blood by forbiddenquill [Teen & Up Audiences]

Summary: Scorpius breaks his father’s Time-Turner and ends up getting transported into the year 1998, when the Second Wizarding World War has already ended and where Draco Malfoy is still trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered world.

With Scorpius’ arrival comes shocking revelations, burning questions, and a son’s image of a father Draco is sure he’ll never be able to live up to.

More importantly, it’s Scorpius’s bright brown eyes, so unlike his own, that bug Draco the most.

[alternatively, a multi-chapter fic where eight-year-old Scorpius follows Draco around the castle and tries to discover the secret identity of his mother]

The Other Side by sweetsolitude [Teen & Up Audiences]

Summary: A slow-burn Dramione version of 6th year, The Half-Blood Prince, told from the perspectives of Draco, Hermione, and Theo. No smut, no character bashing. Attempted to stay TTC and the general plot progression of HBP. Primary ship is Draco/Hermione. This fic is already completed at around 150k, will post chapters regularly.

The Hidden Duchess by Moxified [Fiction K]

Summary: She had always been given everything she wanted ever since she was a child, spoiled to the very bone. Her life consisted of a strict regimen built for a princess that was followed to a tee - even after she came to Hogwarts. Leading two lives is stressful for anyone, especially a young lady with an equally young man curious enough to discover what secrets she was hiding.

An Unexpected Malfoy by RiverWriter [Mature]

Summary: Once upon a time Hermione Granger literally ran into Draco Malfoy in a bookshop. His mother sees a connection between her son and the muggleborn that she can't ignore and determines to get to know the girl. An imagining of how things could have gone if Hermione had been taken under the wing of the Malfoy family.

In Another Life by marana1 [Fiction M]

Summary: She walked over to the huge, full-length mirror. Staring back was her eleven-year-old self but with long, beautiful, silky platinum blonde hair and pale skin. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, the reality of the situation sinking in. The fairy hadn't just made them switch places for a day... she sent them back in time and switched their lives. DM X HG. EWE. Slow burn.

Hermione's pianist by softblakegriffin, va_lentina [Mature]

Summary: Draco Malfoy was destined to play music since birth. A small prodigy in a family of long-standing musicians, he’s well on his way to become the best pianist of his generation. A month in Rome with his friends is the perfect way to leave the pressure and social obligations behind and relax, immersed in the eternal beauty and soul-stirring art.

Hermione Granger’s road to music wasn’t straightforward. She didn’t attend the Conservatory, everything she knows is the result of sacrifices, and she’s still searching for the perfect opportunity to make music her job. It’s her dream and she thinks Rome, with its breathtaking views and magical atmosphere, is the place where she wants to try and fulfill it.

He’s in Rome to enjoy a short reprieve from London, before going back home.

She escaped London and is in Rome to stay.

Will music and the treacherous city disrupt their plans?

Crimes of Passion by All3Unforgivables [Mature]

Summary: Draco Malfoy lost his family, his dignity, and his humanity during the Dark Lord's rise to power. The only thing he couldn't stand to lose was something that was never his to take. With no one left to mourn him, his disappearance goes unexplored. But angels like Hermione Granger do not go missing without notice. D/H OOC, AU. Very mature themes.

Nightcrawlers by malf0y101 [Explicit]

Summary: Returning to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Hermione Granger is depressed, resentful, and suicidal. That is, until Draco Malfoy presents an enticing offer to keep her alive. Soon after, the two embark on a torture spree of students, professors, and acquaintances while simultaneously engaging in a clandestine and dirty relationship. How long can they keep their game up?

What crawls in the night stays in the night.

Poet. by OneEqualTemper [Mature]

Summary: “Uh...Malfoy? Did you knock your pretty head into a wall this morning?” Ginny questions and slides into her spot next to Hermione.

Hermione gives her a quick glare, her eyes begging her to just leave it alone. Ginny ignores Hermione’s look and waits for Malfoy to answer. Malfoy does his best to ignore the red-headed Witch.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Ginny questions and waves her hand in front of him.

Hermione grabs the Witch’s hand and pulls it down to the table, “He can sit here if he wants.”

Ginny scoffs but keeps her hand down on the table, “What’s wrong with his own table?”

“Ginny, stop,” Hermione hisses at her friend. “We’re friends. He can come and sit here anytime he wants.”

— COMPLETED;

Hindsight by floorcoaster [Teen & Up Audiences, 12 Chapters, 170k]

Summary: It's a New Year and Hermione decides it's time to make some changes.

Between the Devil and Draco Malfoy by QueenOfSmokeAndMirrors [Mature, 13 Chapters, 34k]

Summary: Seventeen is a dangerous age. Hermione Granger, arrogant and precocious and bored of her mundane life, thinks she can handle a deal with the devil. But Draco Malfoy - the devil's own son - plans on dragging her down to Hell with him. Dramione AU with demons.

Good Luck Kisses by Musyc [Teen & Up Audiences, 8 Chapters, 8.4k]

Summary: A good luck kiss for a Quidditch captain - it's ridiculous. It can't actually work.

But it does.

Every time.

Traditions by raven_maiden [Explicit, 14 Chapters, 69k]

Summary: She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me.”

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles.

Fortuitous by MrsRen [Mature, 13 Chapters, 93k]

Summary: Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need.

Manacled by senlinyu [Explicit, 77 Chapters, 370k]

Summary: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve until her mind can be cracked.

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting [Mature, 12 Chapters, 95k]

Summary: “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?”

Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events.

“He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Hermione had to be sedated again.

Beginning and End by mightbewriting [Explicit, 48 Chapters, 242k]

Summary: Years. Broken into months into weeks into days—into hours, minutes, seconds—into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco’s experience, moments, even when simple, had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between ‘what-ifs’ of his own devising, he’d stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control.

A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope.

Through the Years by WickedlyAwesomeMe [Fiction T, 11 Chapters, 93k]

Summary: Hermes Granger fervently believed that Malfoy's sole purpose in life was to make his life a living hell. Genderswap Dramione! Male!Hermione Granger/Female!Draco Malfoy. Companion piece to "Library Rendezvous".

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach [Mature, 29 Chapters, 77k]

Summary: It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing: she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

Sometimes you're sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it's a little of both.

Arrogance and Ignorance by AnneM.Oliver [Fiction T, 38 Chapters, 140k]

Summary: A romance set in the era of Jane Austen novels, this is the story of a woman and a man. The man thinks he is better than all others, & the woman knows she is smarter. Their differences aside, they have one thing in common, both are smitten with the other.

The Babysitter by WickedlyAwesomeMe [Teen & Up Audiences, 29 Chapters, 145k]

Summary: It was a dark and stormy Sunday night when Hermione Granger unexpectedly visited his house and entrusted him with her daughter, Rose. Disaster ensues.

Slow burn Dramione with a sprinkle of cute, cute Rose!

The Best of Me by MrsRen [Mature, 21 Chapters, 82k]

Summary: Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

Chronos Historia by In_Dreams [Mature, 27 Chapters, 98k]

Summary: Hermione and Draco stumble upon a mysterious portal and find themselves hurtled back through time a thousand years. Forced to team up to find a way home, they quickly realize that much of the history they believed to be fact, wasn't true after all. A founders era, time travel Dramione.

Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie [Fiction M, 38 Chapters, 174k]

Summary: Bellatrix's torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.

omnia vincit amor by SyrenGrey [Explicit, 40 Chapters, 187k]

Summary: Dark days are here at Hogwarts, and the darkest cloud of all is hanging over Draco Malfoy's head. Already burdened with the impossible task of murdering the Headmaster, life becomes more complex when an elusive prophecy entangles him with a bushy-haired enemy, and a steamy forbidden romance unfolds. Sixth Year. Rated E for sexual content and violence.

Rose by longdistance [Mature, 5 Chapters, 20k]

Summary: A short tale of what happens after Hermione and Draco wake up with each other after a drunken night together. Alcohol often has consequences which they soon learn.

#dmhg.ficrecs #dramione #dramione fanfic rec

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self-loving-vampire · 3 years ago

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Fallout: A Post-Nuclear Role-Playing Game (1997)

The Fallout series is currently kind of a big deal, but to date I think the very first game has the strongest atmosphere out of all of them. From the start, this game did many things right and expanded the way choice and consequence figured into the RPG genre.

I recommend playing it with the Fallout Fixt mod.

Summary

Fallout is, unlike the more modern games in the series, an isometric RPG with turn-based combat and a much heavier inspiration from tabletop roleplaying games.

Rather than using a fantasy setting as is the standard for this type of game, Fallout takes place in a post-apocalyptic world with a retrofuturistic aesthetic and a more mature atmosphere. This automatically made it stand out from the crowd, and then the game’s approach to quest design and character-building solidified its place as a classic.

Freedom

In terms of player freedom, there are few games that manage to even reach the same level as this one.

When designing Fallout, the developers tried to include at least three potential solutions to many of the problems the player may encounter, using the game’s robust character creation system to allow all kinds of characters to have options for how to proceed.

For example, an early quest involves rescuing a girl from a raider gang. Your options include fighting your way in and out of the place, using stealth to sneak to where she is and pick (or blow up) the lock, use your speech skill to intimidate the raider into releasing the her, purchasing her freedom, defeating the raider leader in a one-on-one unarmed fight, or even impersonating the leader’s father for her release.

To be clear, not all quests have quite this many options, but there’s still usually a few, including some that may not be obvious when playing certain kinds of characters.

This famously extends to the end of the game, where it is possible to overcome the final challenge without engaging in combat.

On top of quests having multiple solutions, the world itself is completely open, gated only partially by the fact that certain areas are populated by more powerful monsters (and even then, it is possible to avoid them).

While there’s never enough options and I can think of a couple of places where I wish I could have had different ones (such as during the very last conversation in the game), the game is generally doing a lot of things right on this front, especially for its time.

Many of the game’s factions and settlements also have various different endings depending on the player’s actions.

Character Creation/Customization

This is another aspect of the game that won over many RPG fans. The character creation uses the SPECIAL system, invented for this series following licensing issues with GURPS.

It is a versatile system with three main components: Your SPECIAL stats (Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck), your skills (three of which can be tagged at the start of the game, gaining a bonus and increasing faster), and your traits.

Traits in particular were optional features that would grant your character both a bonus and a penalty. For example, the Fast Shot trait makes some of your attacks faster (consuming less action points) but at the cost of being unable to make targeted shots.

And it does not stop there. Fallout had “Perks” that could be gained every 3 levels, which could grant a variety of rewards, some of them very significant. For example, the Better Criticals perk makes your critical hits more devastating, sometimes even enabling them to become instant-kill attacks regardless of the target’s remaining HP. From what I understand, this perk system may have been the genesis of D&D’s feat system too.

However, the real strength of this character system lies in how the game implements it. Both your stats and your skills will affect what dialogue options you have available and what actions you can successfully take in the game world.

This might sound like it should be the default for any RPG, but you might be surprised to know how many games, even otherwise very good ones, don’t seem to even try to implement something like this.

Many other games, even today, don’t let you specialize your character in any way outside of combat. All characters have access to all options and your stats don’t affect anything but combat.

It’s not all positive, however. There are some balance issues to be found.

In particular, Intelligence and Agility are overpowered, as is the Gifted trait. There are also many skills, traits, and perks that are of marginal usefulness at best. Skills like Throwing, Traps, or Gambling (for example) just don’t come up very often or provide meaningful advantages over other skills even accounting for the fact that a pretty low gambling skill is enough to gain essentially infinite money.

Story/Setting

This is really the part that draws people to the series in the first place. There’s just not that many post-apocalyptic RPGs out there (Wasteland and UnderRail come to mind).

The story is relatively simple. Nuclear war has largely destroyed civilization, your ancestors survived by hiding in an underground shelter called a Vault, but the water processing chip broke and now you have 150 days to find a replacement before your entire community dies of dehydration.

The search of this replacement has you leave the vault for the first time in your life and explore the wastes, and the many diverse communities that have begun to grow and rebuild in it.

Many mutated creatures inhabit post-nuclear California, and you soon discover an even greater threat in the horizon. However, this is not an RPG about dungeons and monsters. Most of your time will be spent in various settlements, dealing with other humans.

Immersion

Pretty good overall, though still not on the level as some of my other favorites like Ultima 7 or Gothic 2. The game has day/night cycles and a few simple NPC schedules that help add some life to it, but for the most part what carries this aspect is the game’s solid worldbuilding and the relative reactivity of its setting.

One areas that detracts from the game’s immersion somewhat is the limited animations. For example, NPCs don’t actually “sleep” in their beds, they only stand next to them at night.

Some NPCs don’t seem to have schedules at all either, remaining roughly in the same state and location throughout the day.

However on the net I’d say this is still a rather immersive game, especially if you can apply a bit of your imagination to make up for the lack of animations and background details (some more text descriptions of certain locations could have helped here probably).

One place I particularly liked the first time I played was Junktown, as a couple of quests and events there felt very spontaneous to my then-young mind.

Gameplay

As previously explained, there are a variety of non-combat options throughout the game. In particular I really like how the dialogue works, especially when you compare it to the approach taken in Fallout 3, Fallout 4, and even New Vegas.

In the first two Fallout games, you do not get a [Speech] tag pointing to the optimal dialogue options. You have to think for yourself about what the most persuasive thing to say is, and what your skill does is make the option show up at all. If your skill is not high enough then the option will be not only unavailable but hidden.

I prefer this to the game outright telling you that one of your skills is tied to a dialogue option, as in practice it ends up being the same as marking that option as the correct one most of the time.

And then there’s the combat. A lot of people don’t seem to like it, but I actually think it works fine as long as you set the speed to max as the animations are a bit slow by default.

Besides the speed issue (which is easily fixed), the main complaint about the combat is that it is overly simple. This is not entirely wrong, as even though there is a wide variety of weapons to play with there is not actually that much variety in combat actions: Move, attack, targeted attack, open inventory (for healing), and sometimes burst mode make up over 95% of what you will be doing from start to finish.

There are still some tactics involved in positioning yourself and taking cover from enemy fire, as well as making good use of targeted shots to cripple the enemy. However, the fact that you have no manual control over your party members limits this front. Party members in general are both unintelligent and quickly left behind in the base game, as they don’t improve or equip better armor. The mechanics for equipping them are also rather janky.

However, combat does have its positives too. The idea of targeted shots is great, as are the accompanying critical descriptions. The animations and sound effects also make combat extremely satisfying, every hit that lands seems to carry a real weight to it.

There is also some nice variety to the death animations. Where more recent games in the series largely just have people’s body parts explode or instantly transform them into piles of ashes/goo, Fallout 1 and 2 feel like they have much more in this department.

Aesthetics

While the non-combat animations are not too good, there is a lot to like about the general art style of the game, from the architecture to the incredible talking heads various NPCs have.

The atmosphere of the game is also amazing, not only due to the way it looks but also because of the dark and ominous soundtrack (give me this over 50s music any day) that helps make the world feel appropriately desolate and perilous.

Even just the game’s intro shocked a generation and clearly marked Fallout as something dark and different.

However, this game’s atmosphere goes beyond sight and sound. The gameplay helps to heighten it. Combat is very lethal even if not always difficult, and the lack of clear initial directions beyond “Try Vault 15″ also helps the players feel appropriately lost until they find a lead.

The talking heads in particular have aged extremely well. I would say they even look better than a lot of modern RPG graphics.

Accessibility

The same lack of direction I just praised might be off-putting for some, and while the game is mechanically very simple there is no tutorial. This alone can make some modern players fail to understand some of the core mechanics.

The quest log is also rather non-descriptive, so it can be easy to lose track of some details unless one takes some additional notes outside the game.

However, the game’s manual is not only complete and written for people new to RPGs, it’s also quite fun to read. A lot of people these days just don’t seem to think of the manual as something they should look at, but it helps to keep in mind that older games typically require it.

Don’t let the size of it discourage you either. You don’t need to read the whole thing at once and a lot of it is fluff or things you might already know from other games (like how to load or save your game). Just look at the index and see what might be good to know from the start.

Conclusion

It should be no surprise when I say that this is a game entirely worth playing, whether you are an existing fan of the series or not. Like many of the other games that I have reviewed and will review in the future, this one has great historical significance on its own on top of having many positives even when compared to the more modern games in the series, especially in terms of aesthetics.

Furthermore, the game is pretty short. It can easily be completed in about 20 hours or less for a first playthrough, and yet it offers so much more than that due to the many options and replayability it provides.

There is really no other game quite like this. Not even the few other post-apocalyptic RPGs that exist, not even other games in the same series (including Fallout 2). I would call this one of my favorites.

#vampire reviews rpgs #fallout #long post

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coffeeismyblo0d · 3 years ago

Text

By The Society's Needs

TW // Minor Misgendering

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound rang through Aspen's already tired ears, reminding them of what was to be expected, and what was not to be expected. They turned, looking at their annoyingly loud phone which displayed the time: 7:05.

Aspen slammed their hand down on the phone, sighing softly as it shut off the alarm, which felt glorious to them this early the morning. They heard the loud yelling of their neighbors, who were just on the other side of the thin walls. They also heard a rather loud thumping noise, of which they desperately hoped was a exercise machine upstairs, despite knowing the truth behind it.

Aspen launched themselves up, stretching their arms and back out. This had been part of their routine for a while, the only exceptions coming during sick days, which were few in numbers, fortunately. Aspen looked around their room for a moment, trying to find what they were looking for amongst the littered sketches of outfits to be.

"Ah yes, there you are." They held their rediscovered binder up in triumph, despite being alone at the moment. Their binder was special to them of course. After all, it sealed a lot of insecurities about their body away with what little changes it made.

Aspen hopped on one foot as they tried pull both the binder and a sock on at the same time. Of course, this was a major struggle for them, as the binder was a binder, and a sock is on your foot. Both were on opposite points of the body.

Aspen turned toward the full length mirror in their room, despite one sock halfway off of their foot. They hummed, tilting their head at themselves.

"What should we go for today bud..?" They looked at their succulent. "Of course, you're throwing a fit. I'm sorry but too much water might kill you." They giggled softly, clipping the binder back enough so it fully reduced everything. "There. I think that will look great."

"And we'll go...." Aspen looked at the closet full of outfits, outfits that fit many different moods and aesthetics. They grabbed an outfit that included items sewn by them themselves, such as overalls, an 'ugly' sweater, and others that went along with them. Aspen chose a pair of short boots as an addition to the outfit, smiling. "I think I'm going to look great today. "

They turned towards the clock on their bedside table, which had been handpainted by a local artist. The clock read 7:15. Aspen smiled. "Right on track, I am."

Once done getting dressed, Aspen grabbed their bag and walked out the door, rubbing their eyes. How they were still tired, was a question that would likely be left unanswered.

"Let's hope you start..." Aspen muttered, turning their key in the car. They let out a sigh of relief as it turned on without stalling as they attempted to turn music on. "Thank you..."

They started their drive to work, groaning as their music refused to load. "At least the car started, that's all I could ask for.." They muttered, eyeing their bag of fabric and other assorted sewing items. A bag that hadn't been touched in a long time.

"Someday buddy, someday." Aspen patted the bag, waiting in traffic. Their eyes drifted over for just a moment, seeing the scammer like looking teen on the sidewalk. Every place had scams, even if you lived somewhere remote. And the bustling city was no exception to this rule, especially downtown.

As soon as they were able, Aspen continued driving. They loved yet hated the activity. They loved it because it gave them inspiration,and they hated it because it was terrifying.

Another reason to hate driving was where it took Aspen. The job yet to enlighten them was kept only because of Aspen's license. A license that Aspen wishes would have been nonexistent, and would allow them to live a life. A life where their own business was possible.

The job may have felt constricting, but Aspen didn't want to get into a deeper hole than the one they were already in financially. The job supported them. There was no way-if they were sane- that they would quit.

"Astroplanes." Aspen muttered as they pulled up to the big building. "The bane of my existence."

The building itself wasn't decked out in anything too special. The logo was in neon lights, but that was otherwise it for the dread filled building. Remove the logo, and it would likely be unrecognizable next to it's store counterpart.

The inside of each building was different in it's own way, aside from the store being the store, and the building being where everything was designed. The employees at the store seemed much more interactive and alive, even if on their last strain of life. Where as in here, they seemed dead, with few of the employees cheerful.

"Morning." Aspen's coworker waved, sipping her coffee as she walked past them. "The big lady is here today." She sighed. "Just warnin' ya kid."

"Well that's great. " Aspen smiled, sounding cheerful to their fellow worker. Inside, they were screaming in rage, because corporate officials were always unpleasant.

Aspen sat down at their workspace, pulling out the sketchbook they saved for work. It was filled with ideas they wanted to fulfill, but couldn't, and ones they didn't quite enjoy, but knew were required to produce into a true product.

In Aspen's eyes, fashion was fluid, and had no limits. There was no feminine or masculine in what they saw, because they wanted their demographic to wear what they saw as validating. There was no limit to how 'crazy' a look could be in Aspen's head. Everyone should have their size that fits and look great, was something along the lines of Aspen's thinking.

Astroplanes differed very much from one of their many overworked employees, as one expensive company does. They marketed everything towards women, and made everything feminine. There was nothing super crazy,and looks lacked simple, yet amplifying touches, such as a single patch. The sizes for what was sold the most didn't expand far, and many things marketed as plus size were not considered as fashion as the mainstream products.

Aspen had nothing against the clothes themselves, because an outfit looks great to someone no matter what the outfit is made of. It was the way that Astroplanes went about their products, and how employees and customers alike were treated that didn't sit right with Aspen.

They couldn't help but wonder what went through someone's head to not acknowledge the truth about companies like Astroplanes. Then again, they knew it'd be pointless to point out flaws, as they'd just get squished like the tiniest ant outside of it's hill.

Aspen sighed as they stared at the blank page, tapping the eraser of their pencil on the woodtop desk. They started sketching, looking at the figure they had drawn. They continued to sketch, drawing whatever they pleased, ignoring the tall slim woman in the background.

The result was spectacular, in short. It displayed a colorful suit, of which did not particularly define the model's identity.

"What is this?"

"I-" Aspen turned, met with the bright red face of the company's owner, who was clearly angry. "It's my own design ma'am. "

"We can not have this." The woman scoffed. "This is far beyond the goals of my company!"

"I apologi-"

"You absolute digust of a woman!" She spat, her eyes narrowed. "I never want something like that ever again, especially from you."

Aspen resisted the urge to reach up and punch the company's owner. They were beyond angry at getting yelled at for a design, and offended by the incorrect use of pronouns, when they had a very visible pin on their jacket reading 'THEY/THEM'.

"Yes ma'am. " Aspen responded, trying to sound as kind as possible after the last moment.

They watched the woman walk away. They let out a sigh of relief and rolled their eyes. They flipped to a different page in their sketchbook, starting on a completely different design from the supposedly troublesome one.

The rest of the day would go along fairly smooth for Aspen, with nothing other than the usual annoyances bothering them, sucha as a lazy coworker complaining that no one would get fabric for them.

Aspen sat alone while on their lunch break, listening to music as usually did. Nothing else had changed from doing it's normal way of doing things. Unless you counted Aspen constantly thinking about the event that had happened earlier, at the beginning of the day, then that counts.

"Still sucks here." Aspen muttered, looking at the building as they left, long after their last free breath of air while on lunch. "Things never change, do they?"

They turned on a random Spotify playlist once they got in their car, tossing their work bag into the passenger seat of the car. They sighed, turning the key to their car a few times to get it to start.

"At least I have my car, right?" Aspen muttered to themselves, backing out of the parking spot before having to halt to a stop, with their coworker Tammy trying to get out of the parking lot. They heard indistinct yelling, a car horn, and then screeching tires.

'They never fail to amaze me.' Aspen thought, their green eyes staring at the road. 'I wonder what goes on in the small mind they possess. '

They left the parking lot, just letting their thoughts whizz by as they pleased, in fear they would focus on the bad of the day. The music helped, serving as a good distraction that didn't distract Aspen from driving.

Thankfully, the drive home was not too bad for Aspen after all. They didn't die.

They fixed themselves a quick dinner once they had changed into more comfortable clothes after getting home. The dinner in question as really just a hot pocket, but Aspen could care less.

They checked their plants and made sure they were alright, watering the ones whose soil was dry. They stretched their torso out, sighing as their shoulders became less tense and relaxed.

They then watched a bit of whatever they felt like watching. Aspen knew they didn't have particularly good taste, but could care less at that moment.

Aspen went to bed once they had finished watching their show, curling up in a ball on their side underneath the warm blanket. They managed to fall asleep after twenty minutes of empty thought, knowing the next day would be the same.

#story #nonbinary #original work

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monkeebratz · 5 years ago

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Gotham Seamstress Marinette - Uncle Ozzy

Initial Idea | Uncle Ozzy (you are here) |

One of Arthur’s most frequent customers is, of course, Oswald Cobblepot, The Penguin. The man wears almost exclusively suits. C’mon now. (Also the Penguin I’m most family is the one from The Batman animated series so forgive me if this seems. Odd? OOC? Idk I’m just here to have fun.)

And Ol’ Ozzy doesn’t think much of the little girl that’s started helping Mr. Berstein out around the shop. She works fast, doesn’t say much. Pretty little thing. (Not that Ozzy is looking at a child like that, get your mind out of the gutter. There’s a reason his Kabuki girls shadow him everywhere, and the Lounge has mostly waitresses running about. The lot of them are young, but nobody ever said Oswald Cobblepot wasn’t a gentleman, and no gentleman would ever put his hand to a woman. Catwoman doesn’t COUNT damn it.)

Of course, he doesn’t think much of her until she’s stuttering over her words after he asks what she’s looking at so sharply. Something about the cut of the suit. Its difficult to pick through the nonsense to get to the meat of the matter but something about a single breast suit with some kind of pattern. When he demands she show him what she means, she pulls out a slip of paper, quickly scribbling out her design. And Ozzy won’t lie, its... flattering. More so than the damn American style suits that are still all the rage in Gotham right now. And the girl, Mari, is waving her hands and fluttering about to pick out a handful of fabrics, layering them against each other and explaining how they work together and he won’t lie... he likes it. Tells her as much and the girl grins ear to ear and makes little notes on the page, setting aside the paper and nodding along.

Neither of them notice Mr. Berstein in the background, white knuckle gripping his tape, watching the scene play out in front of him. His Girls notice, of course, and tell him later in their harsh, whispered tones. Bah. Like he’d hurt a little girl for doing her job.... He may have to have a word with ol’ Jay about that. He liked this girl, and if she could make this old bird look good, well. He didn’t care to be replacing a seamstress who could do her job and do it well. No reason to have his old friend torment the girl into making mistakes.

Mari starts making most of Oswald’s suits herself, adding in fun little details. And, now, most petty thugs know better than to mess with Arthur or Mari and get on the bad side of the Rogue Gallery. But not everybody.

The Penguin shows up to find Mr. Bernstein doing some adjustments to his latest commission and he’s all sorts of cagey about where Mari is. Now, Cobblepot and the Kabuki Girls don’t take too kindly to him acting like that and there may be some threatening and, well. Arthur quietly explained that Mari got mugged coming home last night. She said the other guy looked worse, but she got hit pretty hard and she wasn’t going to be up for finishing anything anytime soon.

So Oswald and the Girls push past Arthur to go upstairs (he and Mari live above the tailor shop) and go to see her, Arthur sweating buckets the whole time. And Mari’s just kinda laying on the couch, beat to all hell and she squeaks like a little mouse, quickly ducking into her little blanket burrito when she sees them. (She’s hiding the kwami that were comforting her. But they don’t need to know that.)

Oswald goes all Papa Bear and demands a description of the men/man who did this and Mari gives it to him only if he promises not to kill them or anything drastic. And he DOES make that promise. The Girls, however, don’t. Nobody touches their sweet little Hime. (She hadn’t flinched back when they’d taken off their masks in front of her for a new set of unitard’s and kimono’s, carefully fitted and adjusted to not get in the way of their work. Had smiled and said how pretty their eyes were, how lovely their hair. Nobody touched their sweet girl, and nobody touches Mr. Cobblepot, and got away with it. Not now. Not ever.)

Once Mari is all healed up, he insists that he call him Uncle Ozzy, and the Girls insist they call them Peri and Gale. They can’t manage more than a harsh whisper, and refuse to give any other names, but Mari never gives her full name either, so. That’s fine.

Now, Ozzy and the Girls continue wearing Mari’s designs. And, now, Marinette hears of the upcoming Wayne gala, and in a fit of inspiration, draws up matching outfits for the three of them. And maybe one for herself. And Ozzy pays her for all four outfits, and tells her he’ll bring her as his plus one to this gala. As long as it all gets done before hand. She, of course, tackle hugs him and squeals with happiness bc you’d better believe Mari is going to get this done asap!

(And holy descriptions Batman, here’s the ideas for their outfits that I may try to draw one day. Maybe.

Oswald Cobblepot - British Style Single Breasted Suit. Off silver/cream color with metallic snowflake detailing. Very subtle. Very light almost pastel orange-yellow waistcoat. A more saturated red-orange tie and matching handkerchief in his jacket breast pocket. Typical matching top hat and shoes in a slightly darker gray to match the suit.

Peri and Gale - Masks with high flush looking blush and very pale blue lips. Decorative hair combs and flowers in silver and pale, ice blue. Their unitards are a similar simple, pale blue. Kimono has inner most layers of deep blue, getting paler and paler until you have the silver blue outside layer. Same metallic snowflake pattern as Ozzy’s suit. The bottom of the kimono and its sleeves have added details of penguins in the same orange-yellow and yellow-red as Ozzy as well. Obi is the same blue as the middle layer of the Kimono, a mid tone blue, with bronze details of peregrine falcons and nightingales, respectively. Orange-yellow obi belt and red-orange obiage.

Marinette - High neck, backless, mermaid style skirt, dress. Fade from black at her neck to the same off silver everybody else has. Metallic snowflakes on the silver area of the skirt that fade out with the black. Very top of the dress is a yellow ribbon that ties in a bow at the back of her neck and hangs down to just below her knees.)

Ozzy intrudes Mari to the Wayne’s and its. Something.

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #miraculous ladybug au #gotham seamstress marinette au #marinette dupain cheng #kabuki twins #batman au #i'll organize and add tags later when i'm not sleep deprived but HERE IS THIS I GUESS #oswald cobblepot

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years ago

Text

Love is in the Lines

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Tattoo Convention Oneshot

Nesta loses Cassian at a tattoo convention.

Written for Nessian month. @illyrianet

Prompt 1: Tattoo Artist

Prompt 2: We came to the…together, and now you’re lost.

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

2319 words

*******

“Cassian, I swear to the mother, when I find you…” Nesta grumbled to herself for the fourth, no it was the fifth, time in the last twenty minutes.

She pushed through the herds of people crowding the aisle, trying her best to scour every booth for her missing boyfriend.

One moment, he had been standing behind her waiting as she scrutinized a certain design, the next, she turned back around, and he had disappeared.

Deciding she wasn’t going to find him in this row, she turned the corner and began walking down the next aisle starting her search over again.

If she was lucky, she would spot his massive frame sticking out above the clusters of people, but so far luck wasn’t on her side because she’d been walking around the convention hall for almost half an hour now searching for him. Nesta passed each booth looking at the artists and the customers, but they were all strangers.

Getting to the end, she took one last scan over the heavily tattooed convention-goers—most having several visible piercings in their ears, noses, and sporadic other places on the face that she thought would be excruciating to pierce—and wondered what the hell she was doing.

Sighing heavily, Nesta turned and started walking down the next aisle.

Two years ago, if someone had told Nesta she would be wandering around a tattoo convention, she would’ve laughed in their face at the absurdity of it.

A year ago, she’d have rolled her eyes and said that even her ink-covered boyfriend who made her realized she didn’t hate all tattoos, wouldn’t have been able to convince her to spend a day surrounded by the buzzing machines and colorfully covered patrons.

Last week, she considered it.

Being with Cassian had made her learn a lot about herself; one of those things being the fact that she found all of his ink incredibly attractive.

There was something about the way the ink stood out on his tanned skin that made it look like it was supposed to be there. She couldn’t even imagine her boyfriend without his tattoos. The one time she tried, she made a mental image of his arms without the swirling geometric designs and his back without the large bat-like wings, not to mention all the other little designs he had strewn across his body suddenly gone—and she was surprised to find herself dismayed at the lack on ink.

One night, when Nesta was idly tracing some of the lines across his chest, she confessed to Cassian that she wanted to get a small tattoo of her own.

At first, he had been shocked. As much as she loved his designs, he knew she still looked at most people’s tattoos with distaste. In her words, “most of the tattoos I see look like someone stumbled into a shop at four in the morning, drunk out of their mind, and picked out the first thing they saw. And the artist just went with it.”

But Nesta listened whenever he talked about his own designs; about how they all meant something to him. How every design held a memory. Every time he looked at them—whether he was intentionally studying them or when he caught a glimpse of one out of the corner of his eye—he would think about why he got it. Each tattoo made him remember a story, or a person, or some sort of inspiration.

They were reminders, self-expressions, and memories.

Even the one he got when he and his brothers were wasted and thought getting matching tattoos—done by each other, of course—was an amazing idea. He always pointed out that particular tattoo whenever Nesta explained her disdain for the “impulsive permanent decisions” saying that even though the design isn’t great, every time he looks at it he laughs and thinks of the great time he has when he’s with his brothers.

So when Nesta told him she wanted to get a tattoo, Cassian was more than surprised. But as soon as his shock wore off, he got the broadest smile on his face and immediately started asking her questions. What did she want? How long had she wanted one? Color or Black and White? Where on her body? Question after question, and Nesta was glad that Cassian had been thrilled.

Smirking, she remembered what he had told her when she asked him if he thought she would look good with a tattoo.

“Good?” She’d never seen him look more ravenous, already picturing what she would look like with ink covering her body. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Nes, sweetheart, you are already so gorgeous, but, fuck,” he groaned, “you would look so fucking stunning that I don’t know how I’d ever be able to keep my hands off you.”

Then he made sure to show her just how much he liked the idea of tattoos covering her body, using his tongue to trace potential designs across every inch of her skin.

The next day, Cassian showed Nesta the poster for the tattoo convention happening soon which brought dozens of artists together to showcase their work and allow for people to get tattoos done, and admire the different aesthetics and designs.

When Nesta agreed to go with him, she made it very clear she was just looking for inspiration. It was practical, she reasoned, to go to see all kinds of designs in one place so she could get a sense of what exactly she wanted.

She figured he would be attached to her side, wanting to show her everything and point out his favorites.

The last thing she expected was to lose Cassian in the crowd.

Nesta finished eyeing another row of booths, still no sign of her missing, infuriating, boyfriend.

“C’mon Nesta, he said” she muttered as she walked. “It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll get inspired and I’ll be right there with you, he said.”

Nesta just about turned the corner when a booming laugh caught her attention. Zeroing in on the sound she caught sight of Cassian—well, his hair really. The long, dark, wavy strands were pulled up into a bun on top of his head, making his strong jawline covered in artfully groomed stubble stand out.

Nesta sometimes found it hard to stay mad at Cassian because no matter what she was upset about, he always found a way to make her smile. Even unintentionally. Like right now, part of her wanted to strangle him for vanishing on her and making her scour the convention hall for him, but hearing the sound of his laugh softened her and she allowed herself to smile at him before quickly schooling her features and making her way over to where he was sitting.

Sitting.

He was sitting in a reclining chair while the booth’s tattoo artist leaned over him to draw a new piece of artwork on his skin.

Nesta was going to kill him. Seething, she marched towards him.

He brought her here, he disappeared, and then he went off to get a new tattoo—without her.

Cassian’s eyes lit up as he spotted her. “Nes! Check it out, look who’s here.”

For the first time, Nesta looked at who exactly was inking her boyfriend.

“Az?” She blinked, momentarily losing her frustration. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

Azriel dipped his needle into the ink again and let out a low chuckle. Once he deemed enough ink was added, he gave Nesta a rueful smile. “I assumed this one,” he nodded at Cass who was still grinning at her “would show up today, but I thought I could get a couple of hours of actual clients before he took over my booth. I didn’t expect to see you here, though” Azriel concentrated on tracing another line but raised an eyebrow in her general direction.

“Yeah, well, this one,” she imitated Azriel’s tone and nodded at Cassian, “wanted to show me what one of these conventions was like, but apparently he decided it was better to run off and get another tattoo.”

Setting her bag down, Nesta sunk into the chair beside Cassian and crossed her arms.

“I’ve been wandering around for more than thirty minutes looking for you, asshole”

Az snorted, but didn’t comment, just kept drawing something that Nesta couldn’t quite see.

“Aw babe, don’t be mad,” Cassian leaned over as best he could and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could turn away. Not that she didn’t want a kiss from him, but she was still upset at his antics. “You were so absorbed looking at that lady’s designs I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nesta’s anger melted a little at that. They had been walking around for a while when Nesta spotted a particular design she liked. She dragged Cassian over to a booth hosted by a woman whose arms were covered in colorful images and had her hair pulled back in a bright bandanna. She had a handful of binders on the table filled with designs and photos of healed artwork.

It was the minimalistic stack of books that had caught Nesta’s eye from across the aisle. She followed the single line as it swirled around creating the image. She must have been more lost in thought than she realized if Cassian deemed it best not to interrupt her.

“And,” He gave her a wide grin, “I hoped I could find Az and convince him to tattoo me for free.”

Rolling her eyes at Cass’ satisfied look and Az’s long-suffering one, she watched as people passed by the booth. Some looked through the design books, others paused to watch for a moment as Az worked. Turning back to face Cassian, she saw he was already looking at her.

“Fine. I’m still annoyed, though.” She leaned in closer, “What are you getting?”

Now Cassian’s face turned a little nervous. He still looked excited and happy and keen in the way he always looked when he watched her, but now he started to look a little worried, too.

“Before you freak out or get angry, let me explain.”

Nesta’s mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios. What could he be getting that he thought she would be angry? What would Azriel agree to ink that she should be upset about? Was it—

“Great way to start.” Azriel muttered from Cassian’s other side.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nesta just as she stood up and walked around to peer over Azriel’s shoulder.

Az was putting the finishing touches on but she could see exactly what the image was.

It was delicate ‘N’ on the inner edge of his wrist.

Nesta didn’t say anything—couldn’t say anything—she just stared at the design now permanently etched into her boyfriend’s skin.

Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel backed away to put his needles down and give them a moment of privacy. As much privacy as they could have in the small booth.

“It’s an N,” Obviously. “For you.” Obviously.

Nesta couldn’t drag her gaze away from the letter. All her anger and frustration faded away. She forgot how irritated she was with him, how upset she had been when she turned around and he was gone. She forgot the instant jolt of panic she felt when she thought she had lost him.

Nesta took in each line and curve of the tattoo and felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for this crazy, impulsive, wonderful man.

“You…” She finally looked up to see him watching her face carefully.

“What do you think?” He waited for her to say something, but after a moment of silence, he started rambling. “Is it too much? Do you like it? You don’t like it. It’s too much. If you don’t like it I can change it. I mean, I can see if Az can change it. I could get it covered up—”

“No!”

Nesta grabbed his worried face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. She tried to pour everything she was feeling into that kiss, and make him know that she did like it, she loved it. She loved him.

“No, don’t cover it up.” She pressed her forehead to his before pulling back and intertwining their fingers, using her grip to lift his arm to get a better view.

“So, you do like it?” A slow smile appeared on his face.

Nodding softly, she told him, “I do.” Nesta swallowed, another rush of emotion hitting her. “You really wanted to get something for me inked onto you? These things last forever you know.” She tried to make a joke, but she was still feeling overwhelmed.

She almost couldn’t believe that he wanted a piece of her, something to remind him of her constantly and forever. It was insane; totally impulsive and unbelievable, but the sweetest most loving gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Cassian used his fingers to tilt her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “Of course I wanted to. Every time I’ll see it, I’ll think of you.”

She kissed him again.

Breaking apart, Nesta slowly moved her finger around the letter, careful not to brush it and hurt him.

“Why here?”

He forced her to meet his stare as he said, “I wanted it over my pulse point because my heart beats for you.”

He kissed her this time and put everything he had into it. She brought one hand around behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

“That’s so corny” she murmured against his lips

They broke apart, each breathing a bit heavily.

Cassian gave her a cheeky grin and winked.

“You love it. And didn’t you know, sweetheart,” he gave her one more peck on the lips, “we’re gonna last forever, too.”

*****

I know I’ve posted a lot of oneshots recently, but don’t worry, I’m absolutely still working on my longer fics. I’m just taking advantage of the inspiration as it hits me

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

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6, 3, 7 H2OVanoss! You know me heh ( •ॢᴗ•ॢ⋈)

Ahhh Owlbun! So I hope this fits the perimeters of a cute-meet cause I don’t know if it does but I think it does? Idk, its cute, please enjoy this mess of a story. >.> It’s a diff style than I normally do, but….hope it works out!

AU: Coffee shopTrope: Meet cutePrompt: “You had no idea, did you?”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

If Evan was being honest, he hadn’t expected the chalkboard wall at his coffee shop to make much of a difference. The Owl Cafe was a staple in the community, and he had an okay group of regulars that liked to come in and check out his new blends on the daily. There were ones he knew by name, like the 6 year old girl Momo who loved Brian’s hot chocolate, or the late-night writer Kryoz who always seemed to appear when the place was deserted. Some regulars he didn’t catch names for, so he titled them as he saw fit; Runner man, vlogger teen, cute sweatshirt guy. All had their place in his cafe, which was steady in its sales. He wasn’t rolling in cash, but it was enough to pay Brock and Brian, so he felt that he was doing alright.

The chalkboard had been something of a whim. A friend when he was younger had a wall in his bedroom with chalkboard paint that Evan had always enjoyed drawing on before bed. When he’d bought the cafe two years ago, he hadn’t really remembered the fun times he had scribbling across the bedroom wall. He was too focused on payments and attracting customers to stroll down memory lane. That had changed three months ago when bumping into Lui, the two speaking about their times as a child. The wall came up, of course, and Evan couldn’t let the memory go for days after. Lots of his customers had children, and college kids were always quick to bore when waiting for coffee. So one night, after a really good week at the shop, Evan went out and bought the paint in order to make his wall next to the waiting area a drawing board.

The result was amazing; people loved coming by and adding their own doodles to the wall, filling it with different styles of art or funny sayings. There were always the punks who tried to draw dicks or write derogatory marks, but street justice tended to stop the crimes far quicker than Evan or his friends picked up on them. Evan enjoyed looking at the board at the end of the night, seeing what secrets it held from the customers he served. He tried to guess who drew what, or where each blurb of inspiration writing came from. Was the struggling mother of three the one who drew the calm beach? Did the preppy college girl express her darker thoughts in the corner of the board? Or was that old couple who shared a coffee really sweet enough to write their 70th anniversary with a heart around it? All of the pieces of the board was a collection of minds, hearts, and souls, and the nights didn’t feel complete for the shop owner without gazing at them in appreciation.

His favorite part was the confessions; like an anonymous message board, people left words of secrecy every day. Evan felt it was a safe way for customers to express themselves without having to reveal their identity, and so far he hadn’t gotten any confessions that worried him. Brock always enjoyed reading the romantic ones where someone would claim their love for a friend, an ex, or a person they could never have. Brian’s favorites were the weird claims; he made Evan keep the ‘I like smelling feet’ confession up for three days. Evan couldn’t really say he had a type he sought out, because all of them were fun to read. If anything, he liked taking in the handwriting of the confessions, seeing whose were quaking with fear or more broad with confidence that only anonymity provided.

It was nearly two months into owning the board that a message caught his eye; it didn’t have much color or outlandish design to it, so Evan wasn’t sure why it stuck out to him so much. But the writing just…looked different. Friendly. A little messy but with long enough strokes to show some care went into it. The words only took up a small part of the board.

I come here every day because I think the owner is nice. And maybe cute? I wanted to ask for his name, but I’m too nervous.

Evan blinked in surprise, feeling his face heat up when he read it again. Someone…confessed about him? It was sort of risky, since this was his shop and he could have checked in on the board at any time, but it was also endearing. Someone was too shy to approach Evan, but felt strong enough about him to confess on his wall? He read the line two more times while he cleaned off every other drawing and confession, leaving the words in the middle of the board. Slowly, his eyes dropped down to the basket of chalk at the bottom of the wall, fingers twitching by his side. Despite having it for months, he’d never actually written on it. He left designing the morning greeting to Brock, as he was the artistic one of the three. But now…

He kept the confession where it was, drawing a little circle around it with the red chalk. Then, with block letters bright enough to catch any returning customer’s attention, he wrote out a simple reply.

It’s Evan. Nice to meet you.

He didn’t think about the teasing Brian would rain on him, or how unlikely it was for him to get a response. The confessions were meant to be anonymous, not openers for conversation. So sure that his words would be left unanswered, Evan didn’t look once at the board the following day, trying to keep focused on making his customer’s happy. Any time he wasn’t working, he rushed into the back, trying to stay occupied so he didn’t stare at the wall. The day dragged on forever, but when the final customer was out the door, Evan nearly fell flat on his face vaulting over the counter to move to the board.

“Desperate much, buddy?” Brian’s shout from across the shop went ignored when Evan scanned the wall, looking for any sign of a response. At first, the words around the response were disheartening; nothing connected to what he’d said. The drawings were still cute, and he wanted to read the confessions, but his heart slightly dropped at the sight. Had he scared off the anonymous messenger? He felt his frown start to capture his lips, but then his eye picked up on something. A blue circle had been wrapped around Evan’s words, and a line of chalk was drawn to the left of the board. Curious, his eyes tracked the line. Like thread in a maze, Evan was led to a familiar handwriting.

Your name fits you! I’m…Jonathan. Is that okay?

“Jonathan.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, his smile small when he finished. He knew instantly what his new secret penpal was asking, and he found the red chalk from before in order to scribble out his answer.

That’s totally okay. I bet your name fits you, too, though I’m not sure who you are. Care to give me a hint?

And for the next two weeks, the hints poured out.

I like to wear blue a lot. Luke says it matches my eyes. But I think yours are prettier.

Evan counted seventy three customers with blue eyes who wore blue that day, but it did little to limit his search.

I saw you drop that lady’s coffee on purpose. She deserved it for treating Brock like that. You’re a really good boss.

The incident had been in the morning around rush hour, which probably meant his penpal was at least his age.

You only wear hats when you clean the mocha machine; it really looks good on you.

Except this was something he did at night, so maybe he had different shifts throughout the week?

Whenever little Momo comes in, you always give her the best smile. Sometimes I wish you’d smile at me like that.

Evan’s face hurt from how many smiles he gave out that day, but there had been nobody who hinted at knowing why he’d been grinning so much.

You’re so beautiful. I really want to ask you on a date.

Evan’s face flush red for the rest of the night.

After the days of trying to piece together just who ‘Jonathan’ was, Evan was almost ready to throw in the towel. The little banter between them was fun, and peeks of Jonathan’s personality came out with doodles or smilies at the end of his sentences. He mentioned his friends, his dog, and if Evan closed his eyes, he could almost make out a voice to the words. Everything just felt so familiar about this guy, like he was already seated comfortably in Evan’s life. But he just couldn’t come up with a name, or anything to sink his teeth into.

So, with a shot of courage (Brian may have supplied the alcohol) and nothing to lose, Evan wrote out one final message.

Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.

Evan tried not to look at the board, just like the first day, hoping he wouldn’t scare away his crush by staring the wall down. Brock and Brian helped distract him, jokingly picking out old men and toddlers as ‘his secret admirer’ before laughing at the outlandish suggestions. Evan tried to smile and joke with them, but his shaking hands when giving out the orders always proved how nervous he was. Each time a customer came up to him, his back tensed, wondering if it’d be his penpal. But they never were, always asking for sugar or a bag for their half eaten muffin.

When the last minutes of the day ticked away, and just a few regular souls lingered in the cafe, Evan finally broke. He left Brian and Brock behind the counter to walk up to the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of the apron to hide his twitching fingers. Slowly, his eyes scanned the board, trying to find the blue handwriting he’d grown to adore over the couple weeks he’d gotten to see it. But there was nothing; his crush hadn’t replied.

“I scared him away.” Evan sighed and pressed his head to the chalkboard, eyes closing in defeat. His shoulders slumped down, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d just wanted to know who this guy was, because starting to fall for a chalkboard he technically owned was starting to feel a little creepy-

“Um.” An unsure voice made Evan bite back a groan, trying to keep his composure. Even if he was being ghosted by an anonymous customer, it didn’t mean he could ignore his other ones. Pulling back from the wall, Evan turned to catch sight of a familiar face. Cute sweatshirt guy had been a regular for months, always polite but never one to really engage in much conversation with Evan or the others. He always contributed it to the slight stutter in his speech, which only seemed to come out in longer sentences. It was actually kind of late for cute sweatshirt guy to be at the cafe; he’d bought his coffee close to an hour ago, and though he normally left right after, he’d seemed to linger now. He’d been one of the people who’d come up to Evan, looking like he was going to burst out in a confession, only to ask for creamer.

And sugar.

And a new cup.

…And more creamer.

For a coffee he always drank black.

“Wait.” Evan’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes widened on the blue gaze nervously watching him, fingers curled into the worn down sweatshirt that was identical in color.

“Yeah, I’m-that was me. Jonathan. Who you were-I’m the guy tha–that, um, fuck. Luke said I should’ve just-but the wall was…was our thing.” Jonathan’s face lit up in color at the confession, the nervous laugh that poured out loud and uncontrolled. It echoed from the emptiness of the cafe, and both men jumped when Brian swore and knocked over a stack of cups in surprise. Tagging that as future Evan’s problem, he turned his attention back to Jonathan, who looked ready to let his sweatshirt swallow him whole. The smile he gave only lifted half his mouth, proving he didn’t feel confident. “You had no idea, did you?”

“None,” Evan admitted, hands pulling out of his apron at the defeated look that sunk over Jonathan.

“Right, that’s- I don’t have to ask you on a date if this isn’t what you…if I’m not who you-”

“Ask me!” Evan cut him off fast, not wanting to let Jonathan feel rejected for a second longer. He rushed forward, snagging hands that tugged the end of torn sleeves to entwine their fingers. Blue eyes widened above him, but Evan refused to let his racing heart of reddened cheeks stop him from repeating his confession from before. “Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.”

“Dinner? Can I-would you like to get food with me tomorrow?” Like a puppy, Jonathan’s body perked up at the possibility. Evan laughed before lifting their hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks. He pushed up onto his toes, feeling the slight intake of his customer’s breath before he answered with a kiss.

But just to be safe, he wrote ‘yes’ on the chalkboard the next morning.

#kihoori #H2O Vanoss #H2O Delirious #VanossGaming #OTP boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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wowweeharrystyles · 5 years ago

Text

Part 4 | Ripped Trousers & Giving In | 8.5K

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

A/N: these videos from HSLOT18 inspired me a LOT to write this chapter sooooo x x x x (let me tell you... these videos... whewwww)

“I didn’t get a chance to bet against you…. so I still get to keep my job yeah?” Aurora asks waving a folded piece of paper as she walks towards Harry. Harry laughs before pulling her into a hug.

“Only get to keep it cause I need ya to tie to those damn bows on my shirts. Remind me why we chose so many shirts like that?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he leans back to look at her, his hands clasping at her lower back. Her laugh fills the space of the empty coffee shop and Harry’s smile grows bigger. Aurora pushes the lone curl that has fallen onto his forehead back up to fit in with the rest of his curls.

Harry’s clad in his favourite slim fit black gucci trousers and a worn in white t shirt. All Harry’s note had lead on was that they’d be walking a bit, noting to wear“comfortable shoes” and then the name of the coffee shop he’d meet her at.

“So what kind of plans do you have up your sleeves?”

“How do you feel about museums?” He laughs when he sees her face light up. “Guess you like them?”

“Is it that obvious?” She giggles as her hands fly up to cover her face.

“Yes.” She groans at his eager response. “But it’s kinda cute, if I’m honest.”

“Come on, you’ve got like a 30 second window before I get so embarrassed about my excitement to go to a museum in Barcelona that I bail on you and spend the rest of the day watching my entire iTunes movie collection.”

“You will have plenty of time to watch ‘This Is Us’ later.” Aurora rolls her eyes at him as he grabs their coffees from the barista and leads them out of the shop.

They spend the majority of the afternoon walking through Fundación Joan Miró. Harry’s hand rarely leaves the small of Aurora’s back the entire time through the museum. During those rare times, he’s towing her along with her hand in his. Harry is thankful for the time they get to spend together on a free day, a day neither of them have to work. He tells her this repeatedly as they admire the art.

| | | | |

They’re tucked away in the corner table on the patio seating at a local restaurant harry picked out as the sun is setting that evening. Aurora can’t help but admire the way the lighter green flecks in Harry’s eyes sparkly from the reflection of the fairy lights that line the trellises of the patio.

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks before sipping his wine. Aurora fiddles with the stem of her wine glass for a moment.

“Hm?” She shakes her head. “Nothing really.” Harry raises an eyebrow at her.

“Seems like something,” he says softly, leaning forward.

Aurora scrunches her nose with a small smirk trying to maneuver her thoughts. “Today was just really nice.” She sips her wine so she doesn’t say more.

Dinner is full of small glances and sweet smiles. Harry, like the gentleman he is, walks Aurora to her hotel room door and gives her a kiss on the cheek when they finally say goodnight.

| | | | |

Aurora is sitting on the counter of the sink while Harry finishes getting ready for the show tonight. She’s admiring the way his hair is sitting perfectly and the way that his suit sparkles even in the fluorescent lights of the arena bathroom.

“Hand me the Tom Ford bottle there, love?” Harry’s question pulls her out of her daze. She hands him the bottle after taking a look at it.

Helene gives Aurora a look. Aurora spilled everything to her on the flight to Spain and she’s been teasing and shooting her cheeky looks relentlessly all day. While Aurora was steaming Harry’s suit earlier and Harry was going on and on about the museum they went to yesterday as Ayae messed about with his hair Helene couldn’t help but giggle along with the two of them. Harry was exaggerating Aurora’s excitement about the museum and she was fighting him about it. “Thought she might faint from excitement” he told Ayae like Helene and Aurora weren’t right there with them. The 4 of them were comfortable and carefree together before shows. Harry liked to keep a light mood while he gets ready. Once he starts brushing his teeth though, he gets all serious. Aurora finds it quite entertaining to see the stark difference.

Harry continuously jokes with the girls and picks fun at Aurora. He just HAS to bring up Aurora’s movie collection too. When he starts listing off the movie titles in her collection Helene and Ayae burst into a fit of laughter. Aurora rolls her eyes, something that has become a normal occurrence in any conversation with Harry.

Now, here in the bathroom the conversation has settled down and Harry is generally silent. He’s already brushed his teeth and is now just taking the time to focus and calm down his recurring nerves that pop up every night. Besides Harry’s question, the only other sound that echoes in the empty bathroom is the click of Helene’s camera. Harry’s spraying his cologne on his neck when Helene’s shutter goes off again. “I’m gonna go grab a different lens for the show. Good luck tonight, H!” and at that Aurora and Harry are left alone in the echoey bathroom.

Aurora draws her attention back to Harry who is setting the Tom Ford bottle back on the counter. He runs his hands lightly through his hair, turning his head slightly so the strong line of his jaw is emphasised. Aurora reaches out towards him, tugging on the bottom hem of his jacket. Harry turns towards her and raises his eyebrows at her. A small smirk appears on his face as he sees the smile on Aurora’s face. He takes one step closer to her and fits himself between her legs. Her legs that were once swinging freely off the counter now completely still as his hands land on her thighs near her knees. Harry reaches his head down to her level and a lock of curls fall out of place and catch on his eyelashes. Aurora first reaches for the curls, swiping them away from his eye but they fall right back. Then, she uses her pointer finger on the side of his chin to turn his head back to the angle that showcases his jawline so well. She places a soft kiss at the hinge of his jaw. Harry giggles lowly at the light touch. When Aurora pulls away to get a good look at him Harry opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a single sound out Harry’s named is getting called repeatedly from the hallway. Most likely Jeff looking for him. Harry’s head drops back on his shoulders and a light groan comes from the back of his throat.

“Always thinks I’m gonna be late,” he comments. “Gonna watch from the audience tonight?” Harry asks. Aurora nods.

“Absolutely. Gotta see how this suit sparkles under the stage lighting,” she says, pulling the edges of the jacket together. She buttons it closed for him.

“All you care about is seeing my suits on stage…”

“Quite like to see the person wearing them too,” she mumbles. That earns a kiss to her cheek and both of his hands squeeze at her knees. Harry’s name is called again but much louder now. “Good luck,” she presses a kiss close to his mouth, only being able to reach her neck up so high. Even with sitting on a high counter, he’s still much taller than she is.

| | | | |

Aurora finds her favourite spot in the audience, the back of the pit but still close enough to the crowd of fans that she can feed off their energy and hide her dancing if she needs too. From here she also gets an amazing view of the stage but her absolute favourite part of standing here is when the show starts and the screen rises up. Harry’s comment earlier was partially right. She does love seeing how his suits look on stage but what she loves most about it is the crowd’s reaction. She loves hearing their speculations before the show starts, she loves how the screams heighten when they get a little glimpse of him and she really loves seeing friends turn to each other, smiles covering their entire face, yelling some sort of comment to each other. Tonight she makes out a few screaming comments along the lines of sequins, glitter, and sparkly. Someone standing nearby comments about his hair and Aurora nods to herself with a laugh. His hair becomes somewhat of a thing throughout the entire performance. The stray curl she repeatedly pushed away from his face throughout yesterday and today fell into his eyes repeatedly throughout the show. Helene found Aurora once Harry launched into ‘Anna’. Harry’s adorn in a rainbow flower lei and one of the many pride flags draped around his shoulders. Harry’s incredibly carefree on stage and Aurora admires that about him so much. He’s goofy, and playful, and giggly but still puts on the best show he possibly can. Helene and Aurora sing along to ‘Anna’ and laugh at Harry’s dance moves during ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. They see Harry turn to Mitch and say something on stage, all while reaching down to the inside seam of his pants.

“Did he just rip his trousers?” Helene asks Aurora in disbelief.

“Oh god. He did, didn’t he?” Aurora rolls her eyes and her head falls back on her neck, a short chuckle leaving her mouth. “Well… guess I gotta go handle that. He’s got one more before he walks off yeah?”

Helene nods. “Good luck.”

Aurora shows her pass to the security at the edge of the pit, then again to another guard at the curtain that leads backstage. Aurora can hear Harry finishing the final chorus of ‘Sign Of The Times’ when she gets to the mini makeshift dressing room that’s located underneath the stage. Aurora is sure to stand out of the way of the entrance and gets her needle, thread and scissors ready. Harry’s laugh fills the small room before he’s even there.

“Ror!” he exclaims when he sees her.

“Ripped your pants huh?”

“Don’t need to fix ‘em now, love. Only got 3 more songs, I’ll be fine.” He’s all smiles and still in the midst of his concert high. He’s also not logical when he’s like this.

“Yeah, 2 of which are Chain and Kiwi. Your pants will not last through 10 seconds of either of those songs.” Aurora laughs at the look on his face then juts her empty hand out. “Come on, just give me your pants, they’ll be fixed in a second.” Harry rolls his eyes but starts to unbutton his pants anyways.

The sight of Harry running to the bathroom in his suit jacket, boxers, tall black socks and boots was even funnier than the fact that he ripped a damn hole in his insanely expensive pants. She laughs as she starts to stitch up the hole. Harry’s back in less than 30 seconds and he’s chugging down his 2nd water bottle since he left the stage. He leans down and presses a kiss to Aurora’s cheek. Then another. With the 3rd kiss he wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Harry, I can’t fix your damn pants with you like this,” she whines.

“Sorry,” he whispers lowly in her ear before stepping away from her.

Aurora knots the thread as best as she can so hopefully he doesn’t rip them again in the next 30

minutes. Harry slides the trousers on carefully and Aurora goes to leave so she can see the rest of the show.

“Thank you, love,” Harry says grabbing onto her hand. When she turns around he’s much closer than she thought he would be. That one curl has fallen in front of his eyes again. Aurora reaches up to move it back into place. She can feel the weight of his hands at her waist and for a brief moment both of them are able to block out the deafening screams and the chanting of his name coming from a few feet above them. Harry presses his forehead to Aurora’s and she feels slightly dizzy. He smiles at her lightly and she remembers the smile he gave her while he was singing “Ever Since New York.” He’s started to give her the same smile during the exact part every show. That one smile makes her feel like she does right now in this tiny room. Somehow in a room of thousands and thousands of people he can make it feel like it’s just her and Harry. Without a doubt, goosebumps arise on her skin.

Harry’s name is called by the stage manager and they’re both brought back to the reality in front of them. Harry presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead before thanking her again and running up the stairs. She peeks through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs. The single spotlight casts a shadow down the stairs as Harry stands at the mic, center stage. Harry’s voice matches the simplicity of the guitar that opens ‘From The Dining Table.’ Aurora’s heart drops every time she listens to him perform this song. The exclusive view she has right now adds to the experience and she catches herself choking back a few tears. His music is the first thing she fell for and she’s constantly reminded why. Before she knows it, the beginning of ‘The Chain’ echoes through the entire arena and Aurora makes her way to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show.

| | | | |

“Wish you would’ve come out with us last night,” Harry comments as he walks with Aurora down the hall of the arena in Madrid. He has his arm swung around her shoulder and is telling her about how Mitch was telling this outrageous story and even got up and reenacted it all for the group. Aurora laughs along with Harry’s story.

“Maybe next time, Harry,” she offers, hoping one day she’ll actually get the courage to say yes to

going with.

“I’ve gotta meet with my trainer, but I’ll find ya later okay?” He offers her a lopsided smile, “could watch a movie or something before we have to get to work.” Aurora nods at him with a smile before he’s off down the hall.

| | | | |

Helene is going through some of the photos she’s taken the past few days on the couch with Aurora. They’ve been the only ones in their green room all afternoon. A lot of the crew took the chance to sight see or sleep in so the arena isn’t too busy yet.

“Aurora!” Helene squeals, “Look at this one of you and Harry.” Aurora looks up from her phone to Helene’s computer screen.

“Of me and Harry?” She questions. and to her disbelief, on the screen is a photo of Harry and Aurora from last night. It’s nearly identical to the photo Helene choose for Harry’s social channels, but instead of seeing Harry’s reflection in the mirror, the photo was taken from a slightly different angle and you can see Aurora’s frame seated on top of the counter. Aurora face is soft and Harry has a slight smile on his face.

“Imagine if we posted this photo on accident?”

“Helene!” Aurora yells. “That would be an absolute mess and I would have to change my name and leave the country. Hard pass.” Then their both in laughing fits.

“That would stir some shit up,” Helene comments when she can finally catch her breath.

“Ror!!!” Harry’s voice booms through the nearly empty room. “What’re you two up to?” He questions when he sees them trying to suppress their giggles

Helene and Aurora look at each other and burst into laughter again, Aurora can’t stop soon enough to stop Helene from showing Harry the photo of the 2 of them. She has the urge to stop him from seeing the photo, from seeing the way she was truly looking at him in awe while he was getting ready. She doesn’t ever remember making eye contact with him in that moment and Helene must have snapped the photo so fast that she caught the perfect moment.

“Oh,” is all that comes out of Harry’s mouth the second he sees it. Aurora doesn’t know what to do in the moment and she just waits to see how Harry reacts. A smile starts to tear at his lips and within the same second he pulls his lips in by his teeth, doing his best to hide the smile that threatens to cover his entire face. The dimple that still shows up regardless tells all. He huffs after a moment. “Would ya send that one to me, Tiny?”

‘Tiny’, what Harry’s nicknamed Helene, nods and quickly sends it over, Harry’s phone dinging in his pocket. Harry ignores it but thanks Helene before asking her if she wants to grab snacks and watch a movie with Aurora and him. She kindly declines and when Harry isn’t looking at her she winks at Aurora. Aurora thinks she might get a headache from all the eye rolls she has to do on a day to day basis.

| | | | |

Aurora is having trouble keeping her eyes open when Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods pops up on her computer screen dressed in a hot pink suit. She told Harry when they pressed play on the movie that she was pretty tired and honestly didn’t think she would last an entire movie. She suggested they watch an episode of ‘friends’ instead but he insisted on playing Legally Blonde. He pulled Aurora by the waist and situated her in front of him on the couch, pulling her shoulders back so she could lay her head back on his chest.

“Don’t mind if ya fall asleep on me,” he had whispered into her hair when the opening titles came up.

Now, Aurora’s eyes are fluttering shut, not able to fight the tiredness off any longer. She lets go of the last bit of her weight she was supporting herself and is limp against Harry’s chest. Harry only tightens his arm around her waist when he smiles, noticing she’s finally given in to the sleep her body needed so badly. Harry can’t pay attention to the rest of the movie and he’s a bit sad that they didn’t get to watch and quote along to both of their favourite part. Instead, as Elle Woods repeatedly makes note that the daughter took a shower, he presses a kiss to her hair, breathing in the so uniquely Aurora scent. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s something floral and coconutty with a hint of woodsy-ness to it. Harry tries to focus on the ending of the movie, his eyes start to well up at the end, without a doubt, a good distraction from Aurora’s sleeping body on top of him. He focuses on the small huffs of air that she lets out and rubs his thumb into her forearm, leaving behind goosebumps. He slumps down the couch a bit further, still holding her tight against him. He lets the end credits roll and once the room is silent, Aurora starts to stir. She mumbles an apology and he’s shushing her while she rolls her over so she’s facing him. Harry’s lips graze over her exposed ear and he presses light kisses down her jaw.

Aurora’s still groggy from her mini nap and his lips on her skin is a feeling she can’t describe. Harry takes over all of her senses so quickly. His chest pressed against hers and his lips roaming her face is a bit overwhelming.

“Hey,” Harry says with a short giggle, his nose scrunching up when he meets his eyes with hers. His nose brushes against Aurora’s, earning a short giggle from her as well.

“Should probably start getting everything ready…” Aurora whispers. She’s peeling her body away from his, as much as she just wants to stay right where she is. Sitting up on the couch is like pulling away 2 magnets, with Harry’s hands pulling on her waist and the added warmth quickly leaving her body, it feels wrong pulling away. She taps her computer, as the screen has gone dark now, it’s much later than she thought. “Harry, I really gotta go get everyone's clothing ready.” Harry’s sitting up beside her now. He lets out a loud sigh, knowing Aurora is right.

“Jeeze,” he agrees when he sees the time, “but just like 2 more minutes,” he says as he wraps his arms around her waist and wiggles his face into her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone.

“Harry,” Aurora whines, trying to pull out of his grip.

“Rory,” he whines back.

“Seriously Harry, we both have jobs to do…” she reminds him.

“Ugg,” he groans, “why must you be such a hard worker? Never forgetting anything, always 10 steps ahead of everyone…”

“Hired me for a reason, didn’t ya?” Harry raises his eyebrows up in agreement, loosening his grip around her waist. “Come on, you’ve got sound check.” Aurora offers her hand out to him, pulling him off the couch.

Later on, after Harry has finished soundcheck and eaten, he finds Aurora back in his dressing room, but instead of being sprawled out on the couch like earlier, she was working on getting his suit ready for the show. Harry pauses in the doorway, not making a noise and simply just watching her, she’s bopping around a bit to the music she’s got playing on her computer. A smile erupts on his face when he really pays attention to the music that’s playing. Aurora whips her head around, after setting the steamer down of course. Harry didn’t realise he let out a loud chuckle, making his presence known.

“Whatcha listening to there, love?” Aurora’s heart sinks for a moment then a nervous, embarrassed laugh come out of her mouth. She hadn’t noticed that an old One Direction song came on shuffle.

“Wait,” she starts to defend herself, “I just had my music on shuffle! Didn’t even notice it was playing!”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Ror.” He shakes his head at her. “Your dancing proves otherwise.”

“You’re an absolute menace, ya know that right?” She rolls her eyes and turns back to the suit to finish what she was doing before being interrupted.

Harry smirks at her before sitting down on the couch. “Quite excited for this suit, if I’m honest,” Harry offers, changing the subject.

“Me too,” she agrees, smiling to herself. She can recall the first fitting of this specific suit and remember loving it. Not just the style or design but the way it fit Harry perfectly. He’s done frills and glitter, the whole nine yards, but this look was different. High waisted trousers, cropped jacket and his TPWK tank. Aurora remembers it fitting so perfectly she was antsy to see him perform in it.

Before she knows it, it’s time for him to slip in to the suit. Ayae leaves the room after Claire requested that she needed some help cause she messed up her hair since Ayae had done it earlier. Aurora’s grabbing his boots from the crate and when she turns around she freezes.

“Uhm,” she stutters out, “Uh, uhm, here-here’s your boots.”

“Everything alright, Ror?” Harry questions as he finished tucking in the white tank to his pants.

Aurora shakes her head, “Uh, yeah,” she pauses, “guess I just forgot how good this suit looks.” Harry raises his eyebrows at her, surprised at her confession.

“Oh,” is all he lets out. She swears she can see a blush colour the tops of his cheeks.

“I mean, they all-they all look good,” Aurora tries to back track, she’s cursing in her head, but gives up. “But, like, this one…” she trails off. She likes the surprised look on Harry’s face from her confession. “This one is just so… I don’t know,” she trails off shaking her head. “Anyways… put your boots on.”

Harry makes his way to the large bathroom to brush his teeth and Aurora follows along. She plops on the counter again, her new favourite place to observe him as he finishes getting ready. Aurora is admiring the way the high waisted trousers fit perfectly and then her eyes catch his arm full of tattoos that are still on full display. The black ink in contrast to his light skin is mesmerizing and she doesn’t think she’s really ever paid as much attention to them as she would like to. The ones that scatter his forearms and lower bicep are familiar but the ones at his shoulder and chest are almost brand new to Aurora. She lets herself study them in detail while Harry brushes his teeth. The A and G on either of his shoulders are delicate and she wants, in the worst way to trace over them, all of them, with the pads of her fingers. The swallows that peak out from the top of the white tank top he’s wearing are driving her insane, she thinks. The white tank not only displays his tattoos but also shows of the ridges of his muscles. Harry’s not absurdly muscular or buff, but the definition that is there is obvious. Aurora doesn’t get it, she’s never seen someone’s muscles look so hard and strong but soft at the same time. His bare skin draws her in more and all she can think about is how his bare skin would feel wrapped around her.

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Aurora. Slow the fuck down.

She’s starting to lose her mind a bit over the view in front of her. She doesn’t know what’s going on with her. Aurora forces herself to peel her eyes away from him and it’s harder than threading the smallest needle in the world. She takes the time to look down at her hands and reground herself. Her mind is running a mile a minute and if she were to voice anything going on in her head nobody would understand because it would come out as gibberish. Aurora is finally able to focus on something besides Harry standing barely a foot away from her. She notices her nails could really use a fresh manicure and she thinks she’ll have to get a fresh one in the next city she finds herself in.

Harry’s hand squeezes at her knee and she looks up to him.

“Y’alright?” he questions. When she meets his eyes she offers him a small smile and his eyes quirk up in a question.

“Mhm,” she hums, “lost in thought, I guess,” she answers, surprising herself.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Nothing important enough to bother you with,” she lets out with a laugh.

“Never a both to me, love.” The nickname rings in her ears and her brain is no longer consumed by anything else. She nods at him silently.

He sprays his cologne, the last step of his routine. Aurora appreciates his consistency and thoughtfulness when he gets ready for a show. Everything he does is done just so. She shakes herself out of her thoughts and pushes herself off of the counter. Before she can even say her good lucks and make her way out of the door he’s got a strong grip on her hip.

“Hey,’ he barely whispers. Aurora avoids making eye contact. “Saw ya wandering eyes this entire time,” he teases. His free hand comes in contact with Aurora’s chin and tilts it up so she has no choice but to look at him. Sometimes she hates how forward he is. She’s nothing like him. She shakes her head at him lightly once both hands are on her waist. She lets her hands fall on to his chest in fist and her head hangs low. She voices an apology, quietly, but speaks nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t mind it one bit.” Harry places a soft kiss on the top of her cheekbone. Aurora lets one of her hands reach for the ‘G’ inked on his shoulder and trace over it like she had wanted to minutes ago.

“Was admiring your tattoos,” she whispers, her eyes trained on the ink.

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just lets her delicate fingers graze his skin. Aurora can feel her heart beating and it sends electric like shocks through her entire body. Her hands feel like their on fire and she can’t figure out if it’s because of the nerves or the heat radiating from Harry’s skin. Aurora’s brain turns off she thinks because before she knows she’s reaching her neck up and kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw softly. When her lips leave his skin she can actually hear Harry swallow.

“I know we agreed to take it slow, but I’m having a real hard time trying not to kiss you right now.” Harry’s voice is deep and Aurora can feel his hot breath fan out across her face. She sucks in a breath, her hands reaching to the waistband of Harry’s high waisted pants that she’s been fawning over silently since he put them on a half hour ago. She breathes out his name as she shakes her head. Harry presses her into the wall, his hips square on hers. Aurora busies her hands at the belt loops before she realises what she’s actually doing. Harry’s lips land on her cheek and then again at the soft spot behind her ear.

“Harry,” she voices again, trying her hardest to stop his movements. It’s not that she doesn’t like it or anything like that. It’s that she likes it too much. That it feels so unbelievably good. That she doesn’t want him to stop. But she has to stop him, she’s still not ready to take whatever this is, further. “You’ve got a show to do,” she whispers. This is a can of worms she cannot tackle right now.

“They can wait,” he whispers into her neck.

“Harry, please,” she almost begs, but she doesn’t know what for, “please,” she’s trying her best here, but his hot breath and his soft lips grazing over her skin repeatedly makes it hard and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to say no to his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes when he brings his face into her line of sight. “Slow, we said slow,” she finally says, using her hands to push him away barely an inch. “And-and, and the way these trousers look on you right now are really not helping,” she says quickly. She shakes her head at herself when she realises what she had just said aloud. A half chuckle, half huff leaves his mouth and she can tell he’s fighting a smile without even looking at her.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, right,” he says the second he locks eyes with her. “Sorry, don’t know what it is about you,” he shakes his head, “driving me crazy.” He smiles softly at her. A slight feeling of relief washes over her now knowing that they’re on the same page with all of this. He sighs. “Got a show to do, I guess.”

Aurora laughs at him and he thinks his heart swells to double its size, just as it does every time she laughs. He shakes his head again, trying to get her out of his mind for just a short moment so he can get himself stage ready. Aurora slides herself out of the way of the door to grab his jacket. She instantly feels like she’s missing something now that he’s not consuming all of her senses. When she turns around Harry’s already halfway out the door.

“Babe,” she’s walking towards him, “need your jacket.” Harry nods and he’s in a trance when she helps him slide it onto his shoulders. “Good luck, even though you never really need it.”

He thanks her and smiles at her. The entire walk from his dressing room to the last set of doors to the stage, all he can think about is Aurora calling him ‘babe’. Normally before a show he can focus and get his mind in check but his brain is full of Aurora right now and he’s doing nothing to stop it. Using her as a flame to ignite his energy and drive this show he’s about to put on. He’s in deep and he knows it right in this moment. He knows that he’ll do anything she says, anything to put a smile on her face, to hear her breathe his name against his neck just as she had a few minutes ago. Harry’s willing to go as slow as humanly possible if it means that tomorrow, or the next day or 3 months from now or whenever, that he gets to call her his.

| | | | |

The first glimpse Harry gets of Aurora while he’s on stage is only seconds into “Only Angel.” Aurora had taken a moment to collect herself before making her way into the audience to watch the show. Harry sees Aurora walking from the side of the stage into the audience and an instant smile grazes his face as he sways from side to side to his music. The lyrics that come out of his mouth, he thinks, are so perfect for this moment - “She’s an angel” - an angel is what she is to him. He shakes his head, hoping that he could shake Aurora out of his head.

Everyone in the arena is feeding off the energy that Harry is exuding on stage, like a how a flame thrives on extra oxygen. Harry is nothing but smiles and cheeky smirks, dimples on full display the entire time. Aurora doesn’t stay in her normal spot, nor does she seek out Helene. She finds herself on the outskirts of the pit on stage left. Her mind drifts while Harry moves swiftly across the stage. From the angle she’s looking at the stage from, she’s got a perfect profile view of him. She curses to herself when she realises she’s fawning over how he looks in those high waisted pinstripe trousers. At first she thought she was gushing over the trousers themselves, the construction, the styling, the way the fabric drapes at the hem, but she catches her mind drifting towards how Harry looks in them. His legs look like they go on forever, the white trouser stripe accentuating the fit of the leg. Aurora’s eyes trail up to his torso and all she wants to do is wrap her arms around his waist. She wants to run her hands along the smooth, shiny fabric and the more she thinks about it, the more her mind wanders. Shit. Aurora is overwhelmed by the thoughts traveling through her brain. The thoughts of her hands roaming his torso, sliding lower when they reach his back. She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. He’s technically my boss. But he’s also, just Harry. This is a fight she has in her head about a million times a day now.

Aurora is surprised when the intro to “The Chain” begins. She enjoyed the show, that’s for sure, but she feels like she blinked, daydreamed about those damn high waisted trousers, and then he was starting his encore. Aurora can’t help but gaze up to him on the stage, she’s in the midst of admiring his confidence and power in his voice as he rocks back onto his heels and his shoulders follow suit, only accenting the way the suit fits.

Harry hoists his shoulders up to his ears, both hands on the mic as he belts out. He lets his head fall back, eyes closed, a look a pure bliss falls across his face. Aurora sighs to herself and basques in the idea of bliss falling across his face when he’s with her. She’s fucked at this point and she knows it. She’s in too deep to go back now. Curses fill her head as the song ends and “Kiwi” starts. Harry’s jacket is unbuttoned and he’s fiddling with the waistband of his pants on the side closest to where Aurora is standing. One sly look from Harry to Aurora tells it all. She’s in for it.

Aurora is bewildered by the fact that Harry is able to communicate with her in the audience. It’s escalated as each show has gone on and every single time he’s on stage he can find her in the crowd at any given moment.

Reckless is the best word to describe Harry performing ‘Kiwi’. He’s let just about all of his guards down, his hair is no longer in the perfect place that Ayae had done earlier, and there’s a light layer of sweat that covers his exposed skin. Harry’s stealing glances at Aurora no matter where he is on stage. When he makes his way closer to where she is standing he lets himself dance a bit in front of her before he regrets doing so. Harry is instantly reminded how tight his pants truly are and that he’s gotten himself in a tight spot now. Anyone paying attention to Harry can see him pull at the crotch of his pants quickly as he walks towards his mic stand. He laughs to himself as he clicks his mic back into its stand. He takes a glance down to his trousers again, reaching down he goes to pull at the fabric that is sitting much too tight against his bits. All while pulling at his trousers, he searches for Aurora quickly and gives her a look that he hopes relays everything that is going through his head. He hasn’t broken eye contact with her and she can feel the heat rise up to her cheeks. Aurora’s thankful that Harry can’t see the colour her face right now. Her jaw drops at his actions. She wasn’t prepared for him to be so bold and obvious up on stage. He seals the moment with a slow motion swipe of his tongue across his lips. Aurora is left dumbfounded. Before she thinks he’s through with the act he’s putting on for her, he runs a hand through his hair. Though he’s not looking at Aurora, she knows every single action he does in the next few minutes is for her and she can feel the tips of her ears heat up now.

It’s New York baby always jacked up,

Holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up,

When she’s alone she goes home to a cactus,

In a black dress, she’s such an actress.

Harry runs his hands from his hips down to his thighs and then brings his hands up to his head, bringing all his focus to his hips moving side to side. Aurora drops her head back on her shoulders with an eye roll. She doesn’t know what to do with herself right now.

I’m gonna pay for this.

He looks directly at her and the look on his face is best described as helpless. Aurora is frozen for a moment before she lets all of her guards down and loses herself in the music.

| | | | |

Harry’s taking a sip from his new bottle of beer when he hears the light chime of the bar door. He thinks it might be his 3rd or 4th but hasn’t been keeping count. He’s out with the Adam and Mitch again and some crew members tagged along as well. Harry’s reaches for his phone for the millionth time in the past 30 minutes to see if Aurora’s texted him back. She hasn’t. He’s been pouting about it all night. After the show, Aurora was quiet, but much more hands on than normal. They both were pretty quiet in Harry’s dressing room. When Aurora hugged Harry once he got back to his dressing room she let her hands wander his torso like she thought about the entire show She also pressed a handful of kisses to the underside of his jaw before giggling and breaking away. She apologized, mumbling about not being sure why she was acting like this. Harry responded with a squeeze at her hip and then mirrored her mumbling and spoke about him hoping she would get like this. Aurora takes a step away whispering “slow” as a reminder but she doesn’t know if it’s just to remind herself what they agreed on or to remind Harry. Probably both.

Harry’s too busy checking his phone to notice that the bell at the door was the result of Aurora walking into the bar. Harry wishes he could bring himself to enjoy the time with his friends but he can’t stop thinking about her. When he asked Aurora if she wanted to come out with them she kindly declined, again. He texted her once he got to the bar hoping to get her to change her mind or try to convince her to meet up with him later.

Aurora and Helene walk into the bar, arms linked and smiles on their faces. Once Harry left the arena, Helene found Aurora and after a few glasses of wine, Helene convinced Aurora to go to the bar and surprise Harry.

“What if he doesn’t care that I’m here?” Aurora whispers to Helene.

“Doesn’t care?” Helene questions in disbelief. “Was I the only one who saw him on stage tonight or?”

“Oh stop,” Aurora hushes. They’re both giggling again. They’ve giggled a lot tonight as a result of a bottle of wine shared between them.

Harry recognizes Aurora’s laugh and his head shoots up, hair falling in his face from the quick movement. He can’t help the smile that covers his entire face when he sees her leaning against the bar. Harry slides out of the booth nodding his head towards Aurora at the bar when Mitch questions where he’s going.

“Add their drinks to my tab, Rob,” Harry tells the bartender. Helene lets out a laugh, shoots Aurora an all knowing look, and thanks Harry before walking away to find Adam and Mitch. “What changed your mind?” Harry asks as he takes a step closer to Aurora. She shrugs her shoulders, suddenly nervous, the confidence from the wine already gone. She reaches for her Whisky Soda the second Rob slides it to her. She takes a hearty sip before she shrugs her shoulders, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Well,” Harry continues, “thanks for coming,” he offers shyly.

“Show was pretty great tonight, thought I should celebrate with you,” she finally answers. Harry quirks up an eyebrow. She can see the smirk that compliments his raised eyebrows from the corner of her eye. She focuses on the drink in front of her, watching a drop of condensation rolling down the side of the glass and hit the bar counter. Harry steps closer to her, not even close to touching her still but her hair stands on end across her arms and a shiver rolls down her spine.

Harry dips his head into the crook of Aurora’s shoulder and he pauses before letting his lips fall to the sliver of bareskin between the trim of her tshirt and the base of her neck. Another shiver runs down her spine and Harry lets a chuckle vibrate against her skin.

“You know, we should probably take a look at some of my trousers, they seem to fit a bit tighter than before,” he says casually when he pulls away. He takes a swig from Aurora’s drink nonchalantly. His calm demeanor and confidence frustrates Aurora and she shakes her head lightly. “Why’re you shaking your head?” Harry asks through a light laugh, setting the glass back down, now substantially less full.

Aurora sighs and purses her lips in thought. She finishes off what’s left of her drink before speaking, needing all the courage she can get to say what she really wants to say out loud. “I could give you a list of reasons why your pants fit differently, babe.” Making eye contact with Rob she signals she needs another drink. Harry’s mind draws completely blank when Aurora reaches over and hooks her finger in one of his belt loops, her fingers grazing along the fabric and stitches. “But, it seemed like your dancing was the culprit tonight…” Aurora adds, continuing to mindlessly run her fingertips lightly of the stitches on the waistband of his trousers. Harry huffs at her, finally focusing on her face instead of her hands.

“Think it was more than the dancing,” Aurora’s eyebrow raises at the sound of Harry’s voice. It was deeper than normal, it sunk to her bones and she’s now consumed by the mixture of his voice and the look in his eyes. His pupils have expanded and even in the dark light Aurora could tell that his bright green irises are only a small ring around his dark pupils. One of Harry’s hands lands on her thigh, “I think I have you to blame for tonight.” Aurora’s entire body stills, her hands loosely grip the belt loop and she lets out a shaky breath. She wasn’t expecting him to be so bold but then she remembers the events from earlier that night. Memories of Harry on stage flash across the inside of her eyelids as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She shakes her head before reaching both of her hands up to Harry’s neck. He complies with her movements and leans down closer to her.

“Ror.” Harry’s breath fans across Aurora’s face. Aurora voice is stuck at the bottom of her throat and she hopes that she’s relaying what she’s feeling and thinking through her eyes. Before she can think any longer she lets her lips press against Harry’s. They’re both hesitant, relishing in the moment. Aurora grips at the shorter hair at the back of Harry’s neck when his lips press a little harder into hers. She can feel Harry’s shoulders relax as he continues to kiss her. His hands find grip at her waist as his hot breath fans over her face when they break apart for barely a second. Their noses bump slightly before Aurora connects their lips again. The various sounds of the bar are drowned out completely and they don’t know how long they stay kissing at the bar counter.

Harry pulls away first and Aurora finds herself chasing his lips. Harry chuckles at her actions, endeared by her confidence in the moment. “Hey,” he whispers when she opens her eyes.

“Hey,” she whispers back, her lips almost close enough to brush against his again. Harry grabs their drinks from the counter after taking a moment between them.

“Come on,” he says motioning his head towards their group sitting at a large corner booth. Aurora is taken off guard by Harry’s casual transition. When Aurora doesn’t move Harry reaches down and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Come on, love.” Aurora huffs and jumps off of the stool she was sitting on and reaches for the crook of his elbow. Harry smiles down at her as they walk towards their friends.

It’s as if nothing had changed. They slide into the booth and fit into the conversations that were already happening. Harry’s complementing a story Adam is telling with a quick witty joke when he moves his beer bottle to his other hand and places his now free arm around Aurora’s shoulder. Harry can feel Aurora’s chest rattle when she gives a good laugh at his jokes. He smiles as he watches her join into the conversation. She even lets a hand rest on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it every so often. Harry presses constant kisses to her hair or behind her ear.

Aurora’s got her 3rd Whiskey Soda in front of her and she turns to look at Harry as he finishes a story. Mitch takes over the story for Harry, going on about one of their crazy times in Jamaica and Harry takes the opportunity that is presented in front of him. With all the attention on Mitch and Aurora still gazing up at him, he connects their lips. They’re both smiling into the kiss. It doesn’t last long, a quick peck, before they’re both engrossed in the story being told.

The night escalates and somehow Harry gets everyone to stand up and dance around the bar. They’re the only group left and they’ve taken control over the sound system. As “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran blast through the speakers, Harry grabs for Aurora’s hands and is dancing her around, twisting her this way and that, throwing in a few spins, and pressing their lips together whenever he can. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the wide grin that’s been on show majority of the night. She throws her head back while singing along to the song and Harry can’t think he’s been much happier than he is right now. He thanks the alcohol that’s running through both of their systems but also acknowledges that it’s pushed both of their guards down.

Harry asks Aurora to come back to his hotel room when they leave the bar. She kindly declines, even after Harry drunkenly clarifies that he just wants to sleep but doesn’t want to say goodnight. He never wants to say goodnight. Harry walks Aurora to her own hotel room instead. He’s said something that neither of them can remember but has put both of them into an absolute laughing mess outside Aurora’s door.

Harry takes Aurora’s face in his hands, gently once they’ve both taken a breath and stopped laughing. Looking at her eyes then her mouth, then her eyes again, he finally closes the small gap between them. The kiss is kind of messy, but neither mind in that moment. Harry furthers the kiss taking Aurora’s bottom lip in between his and sucks lightly, a small whine coming from Aurora. He likes her reaction and does the same action with her top lip. Another whine. Aurora’s hands roam Harry’s broad shoulders and Harry’s hands move down to her waist, leaning her against the hotel room door. When the door rattles slightly their both reminded that they are standing in the hallway of the hotel. Harry pulls away with regret.

“I’ve got an early flight to Italy,” he says because he actually cannot think of anything good to say that will compare to this moment. He shakes his head in an apology knowing he broke the moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, okay?”

Aurora nods, dizzy from the whiskey and Harry’s lips. Before she closes her hotel room door behind her Harry kisses her cheek and gives her an eye wrinkling smile. It’s safe to say that Harry and Aurora both fall asleep with grins etched into their faces. There are no traces of regret or worry in Aurora’s thoughts from the events that happened tonight and she finally feels at ease.

I hope you enjoyed !!!! Comments & feedback ALWAYS extremely welcome !!!! Share it with your friendsssssss :)))) love you mean it.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #sequins & zippers #aurora on tour #harry styles fanfiction #one direction imagine

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