#really need to nail down designs for all of them before committing to a full drawing but i couldn’t help it

[kabingo]

creepypasta got me again. not pleased about it

bloody version underneath! ↓

[straighttohellbuddy]

(you would get) devoured by a devil

how the light gets in side-story

Summary: HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U !! music video, in which Rae once again plays the role of Corpse, the reader is the Hot Demon Bitch in question, and the world finally gets to see them go full-demon.

Needs To Know: Supernatural Creatures AU. They/Them. Demon!Famous YouTuber!Reader, Angel!Corpse. Corpse/Reader established relationship. The reader has revealed that they are a demon to the public, but only Corpse's closest friends know he's an angel.

A/N: 2868 words. the title comes from Devilman Crybaby during the Sabbath party scene, and the video description is an homage to the party scene, which Corpse himself said was inspiration for HDBNU. the more i think about it the more DMCB makes sense for corpse, like, aesthetically. deeply unedited uwu and self indulgent. i believe in rae!corpse music video supremacy

Warnings: demon imagery, fire & interacting with fire but not feeling or being burned by it

Sykkuno's the one holding the camera for the first shot, casting nervous glances from Corpse, leaning against the wall of the building, out of your line of sight, to you, in hot pants and a crop top in the middle of the night, yawning and stretching, your sharp tail swaying behind you like a cat's, while Rae was trying to make sure her tight, black costume was sitting right.

After her performance in the DAYWALKER music video, Rae was eager to jump on the opportunity to continue playing Corpse. So now, here you all were, beneath a black sky with a few little, battery-powered lights pointed at an ornate, wooden - for lack of a better descriptor - throne that you and Corpse had thrifted for this exact shoot, though Rae and Sykkuno didn't seem to understand the significance just yet.

It was strange; surely a music video shoot required more people, or at least more than just the four of you, the collection of misfits committing arson in a parking lot in the wee hours of the morning. This kind of behaviour coming from Corpse didn't really raise many concerns for Sykkuno, but somewhere along in your friendship, he seemed to forget just how chaotic you could be.

Objectively, everyone was kind of aware that even among supernatural creatures you were something of an apex predator, but it was another thing to see you so confident and at ease at this time of night.

"You sure you don't want to be filming this?" Sykkuno asks, question directed at Corpse, who huffs a faint laugh. Even you smile at that.

"I'd love to, but I'd prefer not to blind Y/N before we even get started," he sinks down the wall he'd been leaning again, into a squat, elbows on his knees as he looked at the gentle hellhound.

"Blind?" It was Rae who voiced her confusion, looking to the corner of the wall where she knew Corpse was sitting, and then to you, where you were tugging at the spiked collar around your neck to make sure the ring at the front was centred.

"Demon sight wasn't designed to look at angels," you clarify, rocking your weight from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact with Rae as she steps up to you, expression amused. She didn't have to know the details of how you and Corpse had met each other in person the first time, and gone directly against his warnings and your better instincts, and looked directly at him with your demonic true sight. Thankfully, she doesn't push the subject, simply gently moving your hands out of the way, fixing the collar herself. In the meantime, you resist the urge to pick at your nails, which you'd grown out for just this occasion.

"Have you ever had horns?" Corpse calls, curious, and you give pause for a moment.

"I can," you deliberate, and Rae silently raises her eyebrows at you at this new piece of information, "but they don't actually do anything, they're aesthetic, like your halo-"

"I didn't know you had a halo," Sykkuno sounds endeared at the very idea of Corpse having a halo, while the man himself simply grimaced.

"Its a glorified night light," Corpse mutters, mostly to himself. Rae's grinning, also endeared, though she has the wherewithal to stay quiet, gently taking the end of the leash that's attached to you, looking up to the gathered clouds overhead.

"You want me to have horns?" You called, and there was a pause as he peered around the corner of the building. Upon seeing him and his intrigued, raise eyebrows, you frowned for a moment in concentration as a pair of ostentatious, black horns grew from your forehead.

"That fucks," Corpse nodded with a grin, eyes alight with delight, while Sykkuno's eyes had gone wide. Understandable; the process of growing them in could be quite jarring to watch, especially since they weren't exactly the dainty horns everyone expected demons to have.

"Alright, test shots before we light up?" You grin at Sykkuno, then Rae, who both nodded earnestly.

"When you say light up, you mean...?" Rae hesitates, frowning.

"The chair," you tell her.

"You weren't kidding?"

"You'll be fine," Corpse tells her, and Rae's concern grows almost tangible, voicing her hesitation, confusion as she thought you'd be the one sitting on an on-fire chair, "Rae," Corpse says gently, "the reason it's just us here is because I'm going to do some angel shit, and you will be absolutely fine." He assures, and Rae's mouth snaps closed, eyes wide.

"Oh," she nods, "cool, cool, awesome." She blinks quickly, trying to process this change of circumstances.

"If you're not okay with that, that's completely fine, we can figure something out I promise, but I would never put you in danger." Corpse's voice is surprisingly gentle, and after a few moments, Rae takes a deep breath.

"If anything goes wrong I'll kick your ass," she grins, and it gets Corpse to snort a laugh, nodding easily in agreement.

"I don't think I've ever seen... either of you do serious supernatural stuff, you know? Like I forget a lot that you guys are kind of terrifying," Sykkuno half laughs, gaze still focused on your horns. You give a faint smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Even like this, with only the tail and horns properly visible, there's something deeply unsettling about you.

"You worried about scaring people?" Rae asked, the faint notes of concern in her voice surprising you. You make a noise in the back of your throat as you consider.

"Usually," you admit with a small shrug, "it's weird that everyone knows now, but it's still going to be different when they actually see it. Me."

"You also don't have to do this," Rae says gently, and while you appreciate her concern, you know you're not going to back out now. You are the Hot Demon Bitch.

"You guys," you duck your gaze for the moment, raising your voice so they could all hear you, "just promise me you're not going to look at me any differently."

When the music video for HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U !!! finally releases, the whole world starts looking at you differently.

[ID: An Instagram post from @Valkyrae of two photos.

The first image is a candid close shot of Rae & Y/N facing each other, standing close where Rae is carefully fixing Y/N's spiked, black collar. Rae is in a tight, shiny, black ensemble with her hair out, but off of her face, while Y/N is wearing a crop top with a pentagram on it, dark eyeliner and dark lipstick. They are smiling at each other, as if laughing quietly together. The background is black, at night and outside, lit from the front by warm, white light.

The second image is a still from the HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U !!! music video, of Rae sitting low and confident in an old, large, ornate wooden chair that is half on fire. She is wearing the same outfit from the previous image; her chin is propped up on her hand as she smirks at the camera. Y/N is perched on the back of the chair, looking both intimidating and ornamental with horns, blacked out eyes, and a pair of black, iridescent wings on full display.

Caption: The perks of being @Corpse_Husband (for the CORPSE & Night Lovell HOT DEMON B!TCHES NEAR U !!! mv with @YourInstagram my beloved, out now! let me know what you think!)

End ID.]

The video starts with you, an unassuming contrast against the sharp beat, smiling and sunlit like something out of an indie coming-of-age movie. All the while, there were flashes of illustrations of terrifying horned, winged demons juxtaposing you, made somehow even more off-putting by the sweetness of your smile in the very next frame.

As the beat intensifies and Night Lovell's voice, a strangely hypnotic mix of smooth and robotic, joins the track, he joins you in the video. You've found yourselves in a club, a swirling, electric mess of neon and haze. With eyes blacked out and sharp tail twisting to the beat, with a close shot catching how you use it to carve a heart into the table top in front of you. Perhaps your teeth look sharper than they should, perhaps there's something hungry in the way you look at him, but then there are hands reaching out for you, pulling you up, into the crowd.

There's something wrong with the crowd, with the way they move you and dance with you, as Rae, looking hot as all hell, eye glowing red the way it had been in DAYWALKER, seems to move around you with ease, always just beyond your fingertips as you reach for her. It's like you're asking for help, expression confused, bordering on distressed, as the dancing of those around you moves and contorts you too. Rae always seems amused, enjoying just watching you in the crowd, until finally you break free, and find yourself being lead through the club by Night Lovell as his second verse comes through.

It's as if you don't register that you're changing as you move through the club, horns slowly growing from your forehead, nails seeming to get sharper each shot that they're in, tail flicking dangerously.

And finally the detour is over, your transformation almost complete as you find yourself on the second floor of the club, in a secluded section with only Rae and Corpse's second verse waiting.

Your distress and confusion seems to dissolve as they appear to be under no illusions as to what you are. Rae circles you like she's about to devour you, gently running her fingers along one of your horns, catching your tail before it can strike her. In front of you, nose to nose with you, she takes hold of your chin if only to see you bare your sharp teeth at her. But she delights in the sight. And you stop pretending to be annoyed by it all.

You let your wings erupt out from behind you. There's light like fire building in the back of you throat as you smile. The rest of club erupts into panic.

The final shot is Rae, still in all black, looking smug as all fuck as she looked directly into the camera, lounging decadently in a throne that was quickly catching fire in an abandoned parking lot. You were practically perched on the back of the throne like a gargoyle, every demonic attribute you possessed on full display, most notably your wings, in all their black, iridescent glory, catching the light of the fire.

Rae barely glances at you out of the corner of her eye, but you seem to take that as a cue, descending from your perch to standing by the arm of the chair. She beacons you close with one finger and you indulge her, turning to the side and leaning over the chair, leaning in close to her, wings extended out behind you.

The way you smile shows off how sharp your teeth are, while your nails shred through the arm of the flaming chair with ease. Black eyed and with horn and tail on full display, your smug confidence, which Rae mirrors, leaves no room for anyone to mistake you for anything but an apex predator.

You looked fucking terrifying -

[ID: A series of tweets from @YourTwitter: everyone so worried about whether i become a worse person when i alter my physical appearance as if i wasn't a demon for my entire life. | you were fine with it (mostly) when u found out its just an issue now because i LOOK like a demon smh | i don't even do anything that fucked up in this video y'all need to calm down and rewatch the firestarter mv and get pressed when you realise that us performing as a band on top of a moving car, and setting a building on fire wasn't special effects | it was all legal dw | I'm not saying that's ENTIRELY my doing but like..... looking spooky is the tip of the iceberg. just say you're shallow and move on. i knew this would happen when i finally told the world tbh.

End ID.]

"You are so fucking hot," Corpse grinned between takes, while you sat on the back of the chair, which was still actively burning, kicking your heels against it's ornate headboard. You beamed at him, teeth sharp, but eyes thankfully non-demonic, to save yourself the headache.

"I feel very spooky," you tell him earnestly.

"You look very spooky," Rae grins up at you as she's still lounging on the burning chair.

"You sure you still doing okay? The effect isn't wearing off is it?" Corpse asked her, and as if to prove how well the invulnerability he'd temporarily bestowed upon her was holding up, she wriggled around to get more comfortable on the actively-burning cushion she was sitting on.

For a moment, you switches over to your true sight, squinting at Rae, and using your hand to block out some of Corpse's innate light. Like this, with his angelic gift bestowed upon her, every part of her shimmers with a faint, iridescent light, even her wings, despite the fact that they weren't currently visible to the rest of the world. It's proof that he cares, even if it's only visible to you; it warms your heart.

Once the video drops, however -

"Is this what it's like being you?" You asked idly, laying on Corpse's couch as you scroll through Twitter, "everyone accusing you of sleeping with Rae, but also everyone wanting to be stepped on or choked by you?" After a long moment of silence and deliberation, Corpse huffs a long sigh.

"Pretty much." He casts a fond look to you, "you guys do act like you wanna fuck each other in the video -"

"Because she's hot and she's playing you!" You counter, sitting up suddenly, in time to catch his faintly pleased and flustered expression before it disappears, "me wanting to fuck you is not news, I don't know why the world is acting like it is -"

"Because it's you and Rae."

"It's not my fault we're both hot as fuck and confident!"

And he bursts out laughing.

[ID: A video posted to @Corpse_Husband's Instagram story.

The furniture of the apartment indicates the video was taken in Y/N's apartment.

"My favourite Hot Demon Bitch habit they have, which I didn't realise until we met up in person, is that they use their tail for everything." As Corpse speaks, he pan the camera up from the floor to where you are typing on your laptop, with your tail wrapped carefully around the handle of your mug. Looking up from your work, you seem confused by the interruption, before looking to your tail. You lean in and take a careful sip, as if to prove your control over the extremity.

"I've had it my whole life, it's too sharp to not have good control over," you explained earnestly.

"I watched you cut a sandwich with it the other day."

"I had just showered, it was fine," you rolled your eyes, going back to your laptop, though you can't suppress the smirk at the corner of your lips, "anyways, not like you've ever complained about it... something, something, knifeplay, something -" The video immediately ends.

End ID.]

"Okay, new sub goal; if we reach it I'll show you guys the horns, okay?" As time went on, more and more people were embracing your demonic aesthetic. Once people had gotten over the shock of how varied your aesthetic could be, they started to see that it didn't change who you were. You were a demon for the full eight years before you'd announced it to the world, and they loved you then for who you were.

"Not to be mean to your chat," you can already hear the smug smile Rae is wearing without even having to see her, "but I have so many beautiful photos of you and your horns."

"Rae, you're a menace to society," you tell her flatly, "my society specifically."

"I gaze lovingly at them sometimes," she continues on, half giggling.

"Yeah, but that hot-ass demon's all mine, Rae, you can keep your photos," Corpse piped up, and your whole face scrunched up with exasperation.

"Just say you were worried I was going to steal Y/N from you during that music video."

"The only reason you would have been able to steal Y/N is because you were playing me, you know that, right?"

You buried your face in your hands, if only to hide how flustered your boyfriend and your best friend mock arguing over your made you.

"You are literally so cute when you get all jealous and protective over Y/N," Rae coos, which shuts Corpse up fast.

"Every time I'm reminded why our most popular subtwt name is hashtag-horny-twt, I lose like ten years off my life," you groaned, which at least got both Rae and Corpse to laugh, talking over each other about how you act like you weren't actively the biggest part of sexual-tension-laden music video, and that really it was your fault for being hot and having horns. You want to play along, play annoyed, but your chat sees your endeared smile as it curves at the edge of your lips.

The world may look at you differently now, but with the way nothing has changed with how the people you love regard you, you can't bring yourself to care about what anyone else thinks.

[notasiren21]

26 for Lukanette WIPs please. :)

26. Party Crasher!Luka

I FUCKED UP AND JUST WROTE IT I GUESS???

Party Crasher

-Lukanette oneshot

“You mean to tell me Agreste ditched you? After all that pleading to let him take you to the party for your successful launch line for next season, he’s ditched you?”

“Kagami, don’t kill him.”

“Fine, remind me why I can’t though? This is such an ass move of his if he’s trying to prove he’s the one for you.”

“Because,” Marinette grits out, faking a toothy smile to a work couple that waves from passing, “I want to castrate and kill him myself.”

Kagami laughs roughly in surprise, “Why the castration?”

“So I can fit his small ass into the tightest pair of skinny jeans we have for our tall teenage girls.” The not so stoic girl sips on her wine, pleased with her friend’s rage. “I told him I haven’t been interested since we were 14, but him thinking I’ll forgive him if I even had a silver of interest in dating him? Fuck him.”

“Or,” Kagami drawls, long nails tapping the stem of her glass as she leans to peer over her friend’s shoulder, “You could fuck him instead?”

Mari gasps in offense, “I am NOT trying for a one night stand, no matter what you guys say.”

“No, you little mouse,” she admonishes, fully heartedly agreeing with the sentiment, “I just mean your big and handsome protective snake is here to save the day.”

Marinette’s mind took a second longer to click the pieces together, trying to make sense of Kagami’s nicknames for her friend group, before her heart thudded and she slowly turned.

There, passing by the models who had walked in Marinette’s designs and batted their false lashes at the rockstar, was Luka Couffaine.

Dressed to the nines in a very punk like and sophisticated way that revealed he very much wanted to impress her and did in fact listen to her fashion advice. Black skinny jeans only he could pull off, high top converse and a white button up with a black vest to overlay it. The cheeky and handsome bastard forgoing the tie to leave one too many buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos.

Oh, on the life of his cat Sass was she proud of him.

And maybe drooling just a little?

He approached her, a sly smile working its way to his lips as he eyed her up and down, eyes shining bright at her black low cocktail that she paired with navy blue heels.

So maybe she sometimes used Luka as a whole for inspiration.

He raised a hand, finger wrapping around a loose curled tendril out of an elegantly messy low bun, “I thought it was the models you were supposed to make the stars of the show.”

“Had I known you were gonna show up, I would’ve worn one of my bests here.”

His hand froze, “This isn’t your best? You tease,” he broke out in a grin. His hand moved further, thumbing at the collection of piercings in her ear he accompanied her with to get years ago. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Well, I’m suddenly glad I can only acknowledge this as awkward and not feel it.” Kagami noted into her class. Her phone buzzed, electing a sigh from her as she began turning. “Have fun, my mother decided to remind me why this wine was a good idea to have before she came.”

She watched her friend walk away, her other -her best friend and other half, remained taking her in and stroking the soft spot under her ear he once claimed with a mark-

The one time they admitted their crushes and strong attraction towards the other the night before he left for tour years ago.

It was the only time Luka had indulged himself in his wants and desires, the only time he had asked to and still provided her with an out. And now he still remains far off in her memories, even as he stands in front of her with that look on his face years later.

“How did you,” she swallows when his soft gaze flicks back up to her eyes with his full attention. “How did you get in? It’s a ticket only event.”

He shrugged, turning to offer her an arm and walk around. “I may or may not have seen Adrien’s post about his mom and dad going to a gala event and him going to see his cousin there. Seems like that took precedence I guess.”

Marinette huffed low, “Félix has been in town for three weeks. Adrien and I had lunch with him the other day.”

Luka stilled as a busboy stopped in front of them, offering them glasses of champagne. Luka’s nose twitched, then his lip as he turned away with a polite smile. Marinette shook her head in turn as well.

“You know you don’t have to pass just because of me, right?”

“Hey, we do this ‘young 20 some year olds unable to drink alcohol’ in solidarity together.” He cracked a smile at that, “Soda is my alcohol.”

“Alright, you can be an honorary member of the alcohol intolerance club.” Luka laughed when she hummed gleefully. “Dork.”

“Nerd.”

“So, back on topic, Adrien just really had no excuse then?”

“Ha, no, even his dad stopped by an hour ago to congratulate me and get press photos done to promote the line. All his son did for me was send a text with a sad face attached to his cancellation.”

“... I can kick his ass, you know?”

“I know, I’m just saving for a rainy day.” She laughed, stepping closer to his side and wrapping both arms around his. “So, the ticket, you party crasher.”

“Right, yeah, I may or may not have called your assistant earlier today to swipe it. I took a guess that she held onto it for safe keeping so-,”

“She’s new, I’m not surprised she just gave it up that easily.” She let Luka guide her into a dance. One hand with painted black holding hers to his chest, the other gently tugging to hold his shoulder before he held her waist.

“Oh, that, that explains a lot now.”

“What?”

He flinched, a nervous glint flashing across his features. “I may or may not have lied about who exactly I was since she didn’t know my name-,”

“Doesn’t listen to your music, already told her the sin she was committing.”

“And who I was to you, specifically-,”

Marinette tilted her head back in a laugh, Luka’s arm tightening to brace her weight, “You said you were my husband, didn’t you?”

He flushes at a memory of once getting a creep off her back a year ago by claiming that very title to her.

“Erm, no, I said I was your boyfriend and may have sold it by saying some pet name and swooning over you just a little,” he watched her eyes go wide then soft, a smile twitching to show. He stepped closer, almost pulling her flush to him, “But if that’s what you want, I can go out and get some marriage certificate?”

She flushed, lips parting and a rush of air passing them.

“Maybe call Jagged up and fly us to Vegas? I mean, we’re both looking good right now, you more so.” Her face went a shade or two deeper. She jumped in surprise when he let go of her hand to play with a tendril again on the right side, tilting her face to press a kiss to her left cheek. “God, you’re such a pretty little thing.”

She squeaked.

“What, what was the pet name?”

“Hm?” He lazily met her gaze, a dream like haze filter over them as he moved her body to sway with his. “Oh, that.”

“What was it?”

Baby, babygirl, beautiful, gorgeous- he may have said more than one.

He gave a slow and wicked grin, twirling her out and back into his chest in a swift and stunning movement as he nudged his nose to hers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased, smile spreading wider and radiant as she forgot to breathe for a second.

What. A fucking. Tease.

The need for him to make good on his words and looks hit through her hard and reminded her of their one night together that they both never forgotten. And how much she wished that was every night, as long as it ended up with them curled right around each other and love and happiness coaxing them to sleep instead of stress and loneliness.

He watched her steel her gaze, her jaw tightened. He swallowed when her height, now of five feet thanks to heels, straightened and forced him to pull up. A violent shiver rocked through him when both hands held along the back of his neck, one slipping under the collar of his shirt to scratch along the nape.

“Marinette-,” he choked.

“I’m only asking so I can show my reciprocation.” She leaned closer, kicking her shoes off into some corner and standing on his converse that every elder of theirs had eyed in question during the night. He supported her actions fully, of course. Still stepping them around in dance within a fluid motion. “Not gonna tell me, hun?”

He coughed, loudly and looked away from her to catch his breath. Watching adults cheat on spouses everywhere or everyone else minding their own business to stare at models or the shrimp on the tables.

He almost tripped when she wined in protest, her hand gripping his chin lightly and turning it to face her. His eyes were flickering between admiration, lust and love, growing three shades of deeper blue than was possible.

“C’mon, baby, tell me.”

“Baby?” He stammered out in surprise. Teenage Luka was having a fucking field day with this. “Marinette, I was only joking earlier and-,”

“Were you really though?”

“No,” his response was fast and instant, a wince playing at the corner of his eyes and his button nose scrunching in loss of control.

“Hey handsome,” he preened under the nickname passing her lips, even if close to millions called him the same thing, it paid more effect when it was Marinette calling him it. “Tell me why you came tonight.”

His neck was aching from staring down to meet her eyes now that the heels were gone but he let himself down lower to press his forehead to hers. “Because you deserve better than what he gives you.”

The girl stilled, expecting an awkward or a flirtatious remark. “What?”

The rockstar looked away sheepishly, a little ashamed. “I know you’re considering getting with him, but when I heard he was canceling on you I let my jealousy win out and I just wanted to be there for you.” He bit his lip when he felt her tugging his face back in her direction, choosing to resist the pressure. “You have to believe me when I say I came with no ulterior motives other than protecting you from going stag to your own party tonight.”

“You, you came to protect me?”

He shrugged, another small shiver racking through him when her hands moved along and glided across his neck. “And make sure you had a good night. I even asked your mom what you were wearing tonight just so I could make sure my outfit complimented yours to cheer you up.”

She was silent for a minute or so, and he waited, patiently as ever and guiding her to rest her head against his chest as he swayed them.

Luka, doing all the work. Luka, taking matters into his own hands when someone fails her. Luka, going the extra mile to make sure she has a happy memory.

Fuck giving second chances to other people. Luka is the only one to have shown her he’s the most earning of the concept and notion.

She pulls away, feeling the slight reluctance in his arms on her waist before they drop to his side, “Grab my heels.”

He raises a black brow but complies, turning to find them and hooking his fingers in the backs. He eyes them, used to seeing her shoes laying around the Liberty when she comes over or even at her own place, but he always has to remark that, “You have small feet.”

“You’ve also called them cute,” she huffs, tugging on his hand and pulling him near the entrance.

He follows, like they always do for one another. “Because they are- where are we going?” He stops them as they round an empty corridor, away from the hotel’s event room where the party is still very much happening. The heel of his palm grips tight to archway, pressing against it, the small shoes still dangling in his hold.

“Home, your place or mine. Actually, mine’s closer.”

He laughs brightly, “You can’t ditch your own party for another movie night, Mari.”

The petite girl turns to him, a fierce expression in his eyes that makes him swallow harshly. “No, but I can ditch to celebrate in getting what I really want. For finally getting what I want.”

“The Chinese takeout place is closed this time of ni-,”

“You.”

“What?” Luka wheezes, he blinks stupidly at her. Prettily and stupidly. He straightens, freehand tugging at his collar a little like he needs room to breathe. “Come again?”

“I’m going home. I’m taking you with me. And we’re gonna celebrate that I finally got off my ass and got what I wanted.”

He hums, nervously and a bounce starting in his hand, a shake in one hand, his dark brows furrow, “And you want?”

“You.”

“You- you want,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pain flashing across his features as he clears his throat. “You want me?”

Her eyes soften, a smile showing as she steps closer to him and takes his face into her hands, pulling him down to be eye level with her as he braces his weight on the wall next to them with a hand.

“Yes,” he looks awestruck as she giggles. “I want you... can you let me keep you?”

He laughs nervously, “I’ll fucking sell myself to you if that’s what you really want, fuck.”

She’s smiling, leaning up on tiptoes to alleviate the strain in his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, muffling the undignified noise of surprise that escapes him. She lets him get used to her for a second, kissing him slowly and purposely as starts to eventually overcome the shock and kiss her back in reverence.

He pulls away suddenly, a guilted expression on his face.

“Wait, wait. What about Adrien?”

“What about him?”

Luka fidgets, a quick glimpse of insecurities and jealousy showing to her before he regains a semblance of control after having his walls knocked down. “He’s been trying to go out with you, win you affections.”

He only knows of the situation, but never presses her to talk about it. It’s natural for it to come up in conversation everyday when he asks her about work knowing the stress of being twenty-two in a high end fashion company could be a bit more than overwhelming. He wanted to be a safe place to her since the beginning.

“There’s nothing about him. I’ve shut him down an handful of times and now it’s just a matter of letting him indulge himself in what he thinks are romantic gestures when me saying no doesn’t cut it. There’s nothing going on between him and I, just his belief that my crush from years ago accounts for something today.”

Luka still looks wary and isn’t touching her, most likely his conscious trying to be the better person between him and Adrien by not going out with the girl his friend is pining after.

Even if said girl is Luka’s legitimate best friend and the very same girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid.

Marinette feels like it’s a dirty tactic as she gets closer to him, trying to gauge where it’s jealousy and where it’s insecurity in regards to Adrien.

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Luka’s head turns minutely at the attention, tilting less than a centimeter to catch her lips before he catches himself. He struggles when her next kiss falls to his lips and is soft and slow, how he always wants to kiss her.

“Remember our first kiss?” She whispers, wounding arms around his waist and pressing close to him.

He matches her volume, an adoring look winning for a split second, “Of course I remember.”

“Remember our first date?”

“At the ice cream parlor, you wore a pink skirt that kept twirling when you did.” She feels his resolve break a little, his own right to be selfish with her slipping out a little.

His arms slip around her, and he presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “Remember our goodbye at the airport?” His arms tightening around her speak more volumes than his strained, “Yes,” does.

She’s just a little closer to convincing him to stop being so sacrificial with his own wants or needs. She just has to push more.

“Remember waking up in one another’s arms that morning?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what he can say in response to that. Wondering how honest to be, “... every day, I think of that morning every day.”

She still hears the clipped apprehension in his voice. That tone she knows so well that’s gonna lead into him giving her advice to rethink this whole decision and talk to him when she’s absolutely sure. How she shouldn’t think on impulse and lunge at what she wants unless she knows she does wanna keep with it.

But, he has to know she always thinks back on moments with him and that she longs to have jumped on impulse if it meant being with him.

Every time he’s showed up with takeout at her place. When he smiles so freely at her. When he bandages her cuts and blisters from working all night long.

When he showed up tonight looking like he had been her dare to begin with. How her heart felt when he admitted to lying to her secretary. The way he looked carrying her high heels that were much too small for his hands but he didn’t care because she asked him to.

How he crashed her own party to make sure she’d have fun tonight.

She’s sure she wants this, him.

All those nicknames they could call each other. All the benefits of dating the other and having a date to everything the other needs to attend. Having her best friend be her boyfriend meaning there’s no holding back from anything.

She’ll cringe about it in the morning, but it’s gotta work to break his long instilled fear of being a bad friend or person. Of being unselfish.

“Do you still remember that night?”

She’s sure he’s stopped breaking by the way his entire body seems to shut down, but then it reboots and he’s shaking against her and can’t seem to breathe correctly, his eyes avoiding hers as he swallows again and looking like he’s willing to risk going into an allergic reaction for the sake of one drink.

“That- that’s not something you forget, Marinette.” His hands are twitching on her waist, grip tightening just a little and a vein is jumping in his arm to do something to prove he remembers alright.

One more push, “Do you still remember how I tasted that night?”

He seizes her waist, lunging to kiss her desperately like he did that night and when he left, a growl passing his lips onto hers. He’s cupping the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, breathing her in and shaking against her as his resolves breaks completely and the selfish side comes out. The one that’s nowhere near as selfish as the average person, but enough to take in the matter of his own needs and wants. He pulls back, letting her watch his eyes darken, the pupils expanding until the blues are next to near mere ridges of color. He’s watching hers do the same before he nudges her nose and kisses her slowly, more loving and affectionate. His control slipping back into place and resulting in the Luka she so loves regaining the handles of his own mind.

He’s careful in the way he tugs her lip with his teeth, how he coaxes her to let him kiss her fully before pull back and panting against her lips.

“Yes, I remember,” his voice is rough and he has to glance away from her and straighten. She watches him take a few meditative breaths before he looks back at her.

“Does that really help?” She gestures to his chest and mouth, “the breathing?”

He laughs hollowly, “No, not really, but it bought me time to create some distance in this,” he glances around, “Not your apartment place.”

She laughs at the suddenly horrified look that crosses his face, the image of them making out and the threat of almost being caught in public instantly dawning on him. He glares playfully at her.

“You did that all on purpose.”

“Had to, you were just about to give me up for the sake of being a good friend to me and Adrien.” She pauses, a wicked idea forming to prove her point, “Unless, you want Adrien to know what that all is like?”

A dark look crosses Luka’s face; unrestrained bouts of suppressed jealousy, possessiveness and territoriality. “No,” he growls out, eyes squeezing shut and having to clear his throat. “I’d rather not let him know any of that personally.”

“Not even how I taste?”

“Marinette,” he warned, the growl resurfacing. She cooed, wrapping him up in a hug and pressing a kiss to his jaw as an apology. He whined, “It’s not funny when you do that.”

“No, but everything you feel is alright to feel. Don’t hold back for the sake of not being selfish. You can be selfish with me, you’re a reasonable guy and know boundaries.” She sighed, nuzzling further into his warm embrace. “I don’t like Adrien the way he wants me to, and lately, it’s hard to even be his friend. He needs to move on from me. Hell, I’m better friends with Félix now than him.”

“Just hope they don’t switch up on you again.”

She huffed in amusement. “God no, I’d kill them.”

“It’s adorable how how your less than five feet body resorts to violence and death threats.”

“Mm, except you, I’m quite fond of you.” She looks up at him, chin pressed to his chest and smiling when he looks at her softly and presses a kiss to her nose. “This, us, is not an impulse. Just a restrained want I’ve had for awhile.”

“Okay, I understand now.”

She grins cheekily at him, “Or need, if that makes you all possessive hot yet secretly adorable rockstar boyfriend mode again.”

“Boyfriend?” He smiled slowly, radiant as always and heart stopping. “If teenage me could hear you, he’d probably shut down from being overwhelmed.”

“Nineteen year old you certainly didn’t that night,” she mumbles, grinning at the loud bark of laughter that surprises the both of them when Luka throws his head back.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me what age I lost it at, totally rockstar of me, right?” The blush that’s coating his neck and ears is adorable, a shy smile quirking at her briefly.

“I think it’s sweet, cute even.”

“Yeah, because you’re the one I lost it to.” He deadpanned without conviction. “But, I guess I’ll take being sweet and cute.”

“It’s okay though, I mean, I did the cliché of losing my virginity to someone I was in love with.” Luka does in fact shut down in her embrace hearing that. Hands jittering against her and fingers tapping like he’s trying to speak through notes against her skin.

He takes another minute, before pressing a kiss to her hair. “If this is you confessing your love to me -and believe me, it’s killing me to stop you right now, I’d rather you do it in regards to another topic and not the fact that we were one another’s first time.” He avoids the dangerous smirk aimed his way, or the sharp angle of her cocked, black brow above breathtaking blues. “C’mon, let’s go dance some more and celebrate your success before we leave, maybe find your assistant to introduce me as your boyfriend to.”

She pours at him when he tugs on her hand in the direction of the party. “But-,”

He breathed out shakily, a waning patient look in his eyes and a false smirk aimed at her. “Can I sleep over tonight?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I’m very close to just following you home at this point, trust me. I don’t care how the night ends, just as long as it’s you and me tonight.”

She’s letting him make them dance again, feeling as the nerves leave his body as he gets them to fall in step with the tempo. He doesn’t care that he has to bend a little ways down to rest his cheek on her hair, not when she’s letting him pull her up against his chest when she typically only reaches the bottom of his rib cage.

They work well together, they fit perfectly together because they’re more than used to the instinctive adapting to one another.

Her hands cup his cheeks, kissing him carefully without reservation and the anxiety, “It was only an impulse at times because I love you and have for awhile.”

Luka deepens the kiss just a little, thankful she’s the type of girlfriend to let him indulge in her as he smiles, “I get it, I’ve had my share of impulsive thoughts for as long as I’ve been in love with you since we were young. I love you, Mari.”

“Enough to crash a party for me, apparently,” she whispered, a little moved by the thought that they were finally together. He thumbed her tears away.

“Enough to kill Adrien or Félix if you ask me to,” he replied in a loving tone, soothing her gasps for air when she broke apart in giggles against his chest in reaction.

He didn’t leave after that night. And he went to every party as her date too.

[duskholland]

Die For You | Mob!Tom Holland

summary ↠ tom’s got a secret: you want to know what it is, he’s desperate to keep you in the dark. unfortunately for him, secrets have the habit of coming to light eventually - sometimes in the worst way possible. word count ↠ 7.6k warnings ↠ a slightly steamy kiss, mob themes including: kidnapping, knife violence, depictions of injury (nothing horrendous tho -- I am a wimp), blood, cursing. a/n ↠ do not fear, no one actually dies in this! title is for dramatic effect. if I’m being honest, this entire fic was just...so unbelievably self-indulgent I can’t believe I allowed myself to write it. I shoved all my favourite parts of the mob au into it and loved every single second. it’s crazy and intense but I hope that you like it! I’m aware I promised smut and I’ve not really been delivering, but I’m intending to make up for that by making the next few mob fics smutshots... you’ve been warned.  ***this is part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense. if you have any concepts or ideas for mob!Tom that you’d like me to write about in the future, please let me know! :)

[masterlist]

Tom’s lips are soft and chapped, and they move against yours like your mouths were designed to be together.

He’s got a hand in your hair, the other perched on your hip, and you feel him everywhere as he presses his mouth to yours, over and over. Your fingers fist at his warm, brown curls as you urge him closer, moaning softly into his mouth as his teeth drag across your lower lip, keeping you nice and open for him. The scent of his rich, musky cologne sets your mind spinning, and all you can really bare to think about is him. Tom with his hands pulling perfectly at your hair, Tom with his fingers wandering up and down your sides, Tom with his bulge pressing against your crotch. Everything about him is utterly overwhelming in just the right way, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, m’love, you’re so pretty like this.” His voice is low and husky as he speaks against your lips. “So perfect, making all those lovely noises.” His fingers shift over your side, tentatively beginning to skim lower and lower. When he reaches your core, he slips his hand between your leg and cups your heat with his firm touch. You whine softly and buck your hips down to feel him. “Mm, pretty girl, I think-”

Ring. Ring.

You jump at the sudden sound of Tom’s ringtone as it breaks across the room, shaking you from the moment. It feels like you’ve just been hit in the face with a bucket of icy water as Tom’s hand disappears from between your legs and finds his back pocket instead. You watch as his eyebrows furrow into an expression of irritation and he declines the call immediately.

“Sorry, love,” Tom says, a little sheepish. His thin pink lips curve back into a smirk as he moves to straddle you again, only for you to press a hand to his chest, halting him.

“Who was that?” You ask, your mind now clear of the lust that had been hanging over it like fog.

Tom grimaces. “No one,” he says, voice a little clipped. He bites at his lower lip. “Now, why don’t we-”

His phone rings again, and you sigh loudly as you shift on the bed. This always happens.

In the two months you’ve known Tom, something always seems to disrupt the mood: like the time you’d spent all evening cooking for him, just for him to walk out after a measly twenty minutes due to a ‘work commitment’, or a time just like this when things had been getting heated on your sofa up until the moment Tom’s phone had buzzed and he’d practically sprinted from your flat. To say it’s annoying would be an understatement: it’s utterly infuriating.

“Do you need to go?” You ask him flatly. You can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into your words as you stare up at your bedroom ceiling, a pout curling across your disgruntled lips.

Tom takes a few moments to reply, his eyes still flitting across the screen of his phone. “No,” he says absently. “Just an issue with some, uh, contracts. It’s fine.” He reaches down to take your hand, but you pull your fingers away from him and cross your arms over your chest instead. “Love?”

You continue to stare at the ceiling. “Why won’t you tell me what your job is?” You ask, voice echoing the words you’ve been asking him for weeks.

Tom’s groan is full of frustration, and the tone makes you bristle. “Darling, we’ve talked about this before-”

“No, we haven’t.” You sit up to face him, pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. The bed creaks as Tom turns to meet your gaze, and you feel yourself soften as you look at the face of the man you’ve grown so fond of. “Your idea of ‘talking’ seems to be one-sided, and involves you withholding all information. That’s not usually how a discussion works, Tom.” You sigh sadly, resting your chin on your knees as you stare at him helplessly. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you don’t trust me.”

The irritation in his eyes softens down, and Tom reaches out to settle a hand on your cheek. He tugs at his lower lip with his teeth as he looks at you, gentle fingertips padding over your cheekbone. “I trust you, love,” he assures you slowly. “There are just some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“But why do you get to be the judge of that?” You shift and his hand falls away from your face. “It’s getting difficult to keep doing this with you, Tom,” you find yourself muttering.

“What do you mean?”

You decide to stand up. Pacing is the only way to alleviate some of the nervous energy rattling against your ribcage. “My friends ask me what you look like, and I’ve got no photos to show them. You don’t have social media, you don’t let me take photos of you… Shit, Tom, I don’t even know your last name!” Your voice picks up and you turn to look at him to see he’s also standing up now, his face a shade darker. “Why the fuck won’t you tell me your last name?”

“I’ve already told you, Y/N, I can’t tell you.” Tom’s brown eyes glint as his mouth curves around your name disdainfully. “Why can’t you just accept that?”

You fall to a stop in front of him. Swallowing nervously as you meet his eyes, you find that the stare you share is so different to how it usually is. Gone is the affection he normally looks at you with, replaced by something a lot more bitter. It makes you feel cold.

“It’s not easy to date a ghost, Tom,” you say. “Am I so wrong for wanting to know who I’m getting into bed with?” He opens his mouth to speak, but you grab his hands and continue to talk. “I know that you have a gun. I’ve seen it. And I don’t care. I can handle the truth, just tell me what it is. Tell me who you are.”

It’s all the dodged questions, and the shady behaviour. The rolls of cash he has stuffed in his pocket and the collection of knuckledusters that lie in his briefcase. His reluctance to share himself with you has finally worn you down, because you’ve told him everything there is to know about you, yet he hasn’t even shared his surname. It’s unbalanced and unfair, and it seems it’s all about to come crashing down.

When Tom stays quiet, you let his hands fall away from yours again. Your fingers clench into fists as you stare at his face, his beautiful features tainted with guilt.

“Is this… Is this relationship even real?” You ask, speaking the thoughts you’ve been trying to dissuade for weeks. “Do you actually even care about me? Am I- Am I just a side piece?” Your mouth falls open as a horrifying image fills your mind. “Are you married? Is that why you won’t tell me anything-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, shut up!” He snaps. Tom runs his hands through his hair, the face of his watch catching the light as he stares at you so angrily it makes your chest heave. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A horrible silence falls between you. Neither of you dare to speak, and you find your nails digging painfully into the palms of your hands as you try to keep your cool. You don’t know if you want to yell or cry, but you do know that you’ve never seen him quite like this: nostrils flared, eyes narrowed and focused, mouth twisted into a deep, guttural frown. He looks so different to Tom - soft, charming, caring, Tom - that it makes your stomach turn.

“Are you ever going to tell me the truth?” You ask finally, your voice quiet. You let your hands drop to your side as you finally meet his eyes. The way his gaze shifts away guiltily tells you all you need to know. “Then you should leave.”

“Y/N, love, I’m sorry-”

“No, you’re not.” You sigh. “If you were sorry, you’d tell me the truth. But we both know you never will, so we’re only kidding ourselves. What’s the point in having the same conversation over and over again? This isn’t fair.” You give him a pained smile. “I think you should leave.”

Tom looks like he wants to argue with you. His mouth keeps opening and closing, the veins in his neck standing out angrily against his skin. A hot flush lines his cheeks, and you think he’s going to continue to yell at you, but he just turns, picks up his phone, and then backs away towards the door. Your heart falls in your chest, and you find yourself wishing he’d fight back.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N, I really am sorry.” He pauses by the doorframe, his eyes pained and his posture drawn in. “Will I ever see you again?”

You catch your lower lip between your teeth, mind spinning blearily. He looks like himself again, his brown hair soft and messy over his forehead, and his eyes watching you with adoration spread across his brown irises. You want nothing more than to give in and run into his embrace, but you know you can’t. So instead, you cross your arms over your chest and say bravely, “Only if you decide to tell me the truth.”

Tom’s sad smile makes your heart splinter.

“Bye, love.”

And then he slips from your room, and you’re left standing, frozen, until you hear the front door slam shut. The loud, clattering bang makes you gasp, and with an inhalation of air, you feel your mind catch up. Tears prick at your eyes as you fall back onto your bed, burying your face in a pillow that smells a little too much like him, and you hold it close as if it's the only thing keeping you afloat.

[-----]

It’s hard to accept that it’s over, even as the truth glares obviously at you.

You spend the evening curled up in bed, trying not to cry as your mind tortures you with a highlight reel of your relationship with Tom - if you could even call it a relationship. Things between you were never official, yet another reason you’d had to doubt him. Every time you’d suggested that you could take things a step further, he’d always changed the subject, or muttered something about labels being obsolete. He was always doing that - qualming your concerns with short words, or kisses. It seemed Tom would rather ignore problems than acknowledge their existence, and that was infuriating.

But fuck. For all the bad parts, there’d been a thousand good. You stayed awake thinking about the time he’d turned up unannounced with a bouquet of roses and a lazy smile on his face, and another time, a few weeks ago, when he’d procured a new set of acrylic paints for you to mess around with and you’d spent a peaceful morning together as you captured him on canvas. His jokes and sarcastic remarks spin around your brain like a laugh track, following you into your dreams when you finally manage to sleep.

It’s hard. You call off sick to work for the week, and it’s only after a few days that you feel strong enough to properly get up. You’ve had breakups before, but nothing’s hurt like this. Nothing drives the dagger into your heart and slowly slits away at your valves like knowing Tom doesn’t trust you.

After four days of moping, you force yourself out of bed. Your shower spits scalding water all along your body, but it washes away all traces of him, and you feel better as you pull on your messy painting dungarees. You wrap your painting apron around your front and walk out into your living room, your eyes falling to the canvas that sits in between your sofa and the tv. It’s the rough outline you’d made of Tom, and the sight drives a hard wedge into your chest, so you decide to make a few alterations to it.

With a loose grin on your face, you pick up your paints and your palette and begin to mix together a few of the shades. You work until you get a deep, rich red, and dab your paintbrush through it, coating the tip. You bring your hand in the air, but you waver as you go to draw some devil horns above his head.

Before you can decide if your heartbreak is poignant enough to warrant destroying your canvas, you hear a loud knock at your door. With a sigh, you put your palette down and slip your palette knife into the side pocket of your dirty overalls, not really caring that you smear paint all along them.

Not thinking to check the peephole, you wrench your front door open with a frown, fully expecting to see one of your friends there.

Shock shoots through you as you make eye contact with a man wearing a balaclava, and it twists into paralysing fear as you feel someone pin your arms to your back. Before you can scream, the man in front of you presses a wet cloth to your mouth. You try to fight it, but you gasp for air, and as you inhale the strong chemicals, your eyes droop shut and your mind turns black.

[-----]

Your head throbs, and the pain is so pronounced that it makes you groan, only for the sound to come out muffled. Confused, you slowly blink your eyes open, only to find yourself squinting as the room blearily comes into focus. You feel lost for a few moments, completely relaxed until you remember with horror the events from before. You try to jump up from the chair you’re in, but you feel your arms and legs bound down tightly, and the struggle makes the coarse ropes burn against your skin.

Fuck.

“Ahh, sleeping beauty wakes.” You snap your head around, eyes falling to a few figures who stand together by the door. The room you’re in seems to be a bedroom. The curtains are shut so you’ve no idea what time it is, but the rumbling in your stomach suggests you’ve been out for at least a few hours, and that thought is terrifying. You find yourself shaking as a man walks to you, his green eyes cruel and piercing. He’s in a crisp whit shirt, golden dice cufflinks hanging off the cuffs.  “We’re going to have a bit of a discussion with you, Y/N.”

You gulp, your throat dry and aching. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

As you wait on an answer, you become very aware of the pounding in your head. Specifically, a throbbing on the left side of your head, near your temple. Your skin feels cooler and heavier, and you wonder if it hurts so much because you’ve been hit by something sharp.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” the man says. He drags a chair in front of you and sits in it backwards, his arms curling around the back of it as he stares at you. His teeth are chipped and grimy, and he’s got his hair buzzed back. The scariest part of him has to be the way he’s eyeing you like he hates you. “Answer my questions and nothing bad will happen to you. If not, I’ll make you talk. Wouldn’t want another punch to the face, would you, pet?”

Your lips curl into a disgusted frown as you stare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You squirm in the chair, pulling helplessly at your bonds. “Let me go, dickhead.”

He just laughs at you, and the sound makes you feel enraged, but you try to stay calm. You count another four men standing off in the side of the room, and you know you’re helpless at the moment. What is it they say..? Cooperate with your captors until you earn their trust? You’re not sure, but you know you can’t fight back properly. Not yet.

“We’ve spotted you with one of our associates,” the man tells you. “Tom Holland.”

Tom Holland. You almost want to laugh. Of course this is how you learn Tom’s surname.

“I… Know him,” you say, seeing no point in lying.

“Where is he keeping his latest shipment?”

Your eyebrows pull together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, love. You know something.” The man reaches out and presses his hand over the wound on the side of your head, and you gasp as pain prickles across your forehead. “Tell me.”

“I promise you, I don’t know anything about a shipment,” you stammer out, blinking quickly. “I don’t even know what he does!”

The man looks back and exchanges a stare with one of his goonies. “What’s the nature of your relationship with him?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. “We, uh, we just slept together,” you lie. “I was only with him for a night.” You hope with every part of you that they’ve only spotted you together once. “I don’t know anything about him, I swear.”

The man laughs coldly. “Bad choice of one night stand, girl,” he tells you. He stands from the chair and paces in front of you, cracking his knuckles. “Would you say that he’s fond of you?”

You gape, mind spinning as you try to think up an angle. “Uh, n-no,” you say, “He probably doesn’t even remember who I am. So… So, you should just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone what’s happened. I swear.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not letting you go,” he says, the words like a punch to your gut. “We’ve seen him leave your place on several occasions. If you aren’t in business with him, you’re shagging him, which means you’re important to him. So…” He runs a finger over your face, and you try to bite him, but he dodges and chuckles. “You’re not leaving. You’re going to be a very useful asset.”

“What are you even talking about?”

The man procures a knife, and the sight of the glinting blade makes you feel nauseous. You remain absolutely still as the runs the sharp edge over the side of your cheek, nicking a shallow line across your skin. A tight gasp escapes you as you feel drops of blood drip down your face, and your eyes settle on the way the deep hued drops soak into the front of your painting apron.

“Tom’s a proud man. If he sees us roughing you up, he’ll give us what we want.” The man puts the knife away and brings up his phone. You barely register what he’s doing until the flash goes off and he’s chuckling away to himself, his expression alight with a devilish menace. “Stay here. Don’t try anything,” he warns you. “If you try to run, that will only make this a lot harder for you, love.”

You don’t say a word as he walks out of the room, taking the other men with him. The door swings shut, and you’re left alone, tied up and helpless.

You’re determined not to cry. It won’t serve you any use, and you need your eyes and mind clear if you’re going to figure out what you’re doing. Even if the plan is to somehow lure Tom to this place, how can you rely on that? What if he doesn’t turn up, and the man returns to beat you up? The thought makes you shiver.

Biting at your lower lip, you crane your neck around and try to look for anything that could aid your escape. You seem to be sitting in the centre of a bedroom, but unhelpfully, most of the surfaces are bare. The bed is stripped and some of the drawers of the dresser lay open and empty. You sit back and try to pull at your bound hands, twisting and moving desperately, but they’re stuck. As you slump forward, ready to give up, your hand brushes over the top pocket of your overalls and you gasp.

Your palette knife.

With a determined grimace on your face, you wriggle your hands down and manage to get a few fingers into your deep pocket. A triumphant smirk finds your mouth as you feel the knife and carefully manoeuvre it into your hands. The blunt blade glints as you see it, and you quickly begin to saw away at your ropes.

It’s a long, torturous process. The knife is designed for painting, not cutting, and so you have to chisel away at the bounds and gradually unwind the rope strands. As you work, you let your mind wander, thoughts drifting back to him:

Tom.

You hate that you understand now, why he hadn’t wanted you to become involved with his life. He must’ve known that being involved with him might lead to a situation such as this. But you’re furious, because you’re still here, being held hostage, regardless of his decision to walk away. The situation is almost laughable - of course it’s just your luck that the guy you’ve been dating is involved in some shady stuff - shipments? You presume the man was referring to drugs. Is Tom some kind of drug lord? You have no idea, but you’re damned sure you’re going to find out.

“Bingo,” you mutter to yourself. You feel the rope that holds your hands together behind your back slip away. Swiftly, you tend to the rest of the ropes that keep you down, a sigh of relief passing through you as you’re able to stand up and stretch out your muscles. A sense of disconcerting dizziness passes over you and your fingers drift up to your head, your touch tender as you feel a bloody bump around your temple. As you wince, you drag your eyes around the room.

There’s a vase sitting over by the bed, and it immediately catches your attention. In terms of things that can be used in your defence, it appears to be your best bet, so you pick it up and creep towards the door. Luckily for you, there’s a peephole embedded in the wood, so you lean up and glance through it. Beyond your room, there’s a wide corridor. Several other doors frame against the dark walls, and you decide you must be on the second storey of this house, and that the other rooms are bedrooms. There’s one man standing outside your room, his gaze fixed firmly on his phone, but beyond that, there’s no one.

A brutal debate takes place inside your head. You know it might be brash to leave your room, with no real plan of what you’ll do, but you’re a little delirious. Your head hurts and your stomach aches and your skin prickles from where you’d been cut. So you find your hand stretching out and twisting open the door before you can really fathom it, and then you’re faced with a surprised guard.

You act on adrenaline. Summoning all your strength, you smash the vase down across his head. It’s so sudden that he has no time to protect himself, and there’s a sickening crunch as he goes down. Thankfully there’s a carpet lining the floor, and it muffles the pottery and the sound of his large body falling down.

You stare at his unconscious body for a moment, heart racing. “Shit,” you mutter. You hadn’t thought this through.

Glancing down the corridor, you decide you need to hide him. If anyone comes to check on you, the sight of an unconscious body is going to be a dead give away. So you grab him by his ankles and pull him back into your room, wincing as you take in his bloody face. He’s still breathing, but he’s out cold, and you’d feel bad, if he hadn’t clearly been involved in your kidnapping plot.

You shove some of the bits of pottery into the bedroom and then return to the corridor, eyes widening gleefully as you see his phone laying there, waiting for you, still unlocked. With trembling fingers, you find the messages app and start to look for anything useful.

Rob: keep her in there. they’re coming.

You exit the messages as your heart races. Tom is on his way? You don’t know how to feel other than relieved, but then you feel annoyed that you find comfort in him, because you’re still so fucking angry about everything.

Releasing a steadying breath, you open up google maps and try to figure out where you are. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think, but you study your pinned location and see you’re in the outskirts of London, tucked away in a residential neighbourhood about an hour from where you live. Maybe if you manage to break out of the house, you’ll be able to find some neighbours who can take you in.

A new message flashes up at the top of the screen as you’re inspecting the map.

Rob: change of plans, boss wants her moving for future use. coming back up to get her.

You startle, fumbling with the phone immediately. Heavy footsteps drift down the corridor, coming from the staircase at the end.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter.

Change of plans: avoid getting recaptured and stay put until Tom can get you out…

You take off down the corridor and run through a large, heavy door. Much to your relief, you find a set of wide steps beyond it and you tiptoe downstairs, coming out into a kitchen. The room is vast and dark and, most importantly, it’s empty, and you dart around the counter to pick up a big knife.

You feel more secure now you’ve got a weapon, though your stomach twists at the thought of having to use it. You’ve had a bit of self defence training, courtesy of your job back in the sketchy casino in Soho, but nothing that could compare to a bunch of angry, henchmen.

And fuck, they’re angry. You can hear them yelling and shouting already, the hard sounds echoing through the house. It doesn’t just come from above you. You can hear movement nearby, and it’s enough to have you running again. Your search for a hiding place takes you through a few more doors and into what seems to be a study. You don’t think — you see a large cupboard and you jump into it, pulling the doors shut behind you.

It’s like a little sanctuary, inside the large cupboard. There are a few suit jackets and a collection of shoes covering the bottom, but there’s enough room for you to stand there comfortably, vibrating from nerves. Your hands are clammy and you stifle a yelp as the knife threatens to slip through your fingers, but you manage to catch it and hold it close to your chest.

You don’t know how long you’re in there, but it’s long enough to have you feeling really unwell. It’s hot and stuffy, and the fact you haven’t eaten is really starting to catch up with the injury on your head. You begin to wonder how much longer you can take it when the sound of someone entering the room disrupts your thoughts. You freeze immediately.

You’re completely in the dark, but you listen intently as the person storms around the room. You hear them flip the desk, and kick around the chair, and then the footsteps come towards your cupboard. In a fit of blinding nerves, you drop the knife. It clatters on the floor and as you scramble to snatch it up, you know that you’re fucked.

The cupboard doors are wrenched open, and it’s someone you don’t recognise. Like everyone else you’ve encountered, the man is dressed in all black. His deep eyes flood with relief as he sees you.

“Thank fuck, boss was losing his mind,” he announces, reaching out towards you. But you point the knife at his chest with shaking hands and he pauses, eyes widening as he chuckles. “I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N. I’m here to rescue you.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that?!” You exclaim incredulously, waggling the knife at him. The man raises his palms, his expression shifting into surprise, but then he backs up slowly, the tip of your knife drifting to his chest.

“I’m Tuwaine,” he tells you, his eyes skittering across your face carefully. “I work for Tom. I’m not going to hurt you, but we need to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

You know he’s getting irritated, but that just serves to fuel your suspicions. You don’t know if you’re capable of overpowering him, but you know you like your chances a lot more with your knife pressed into him than you do leaving the room with him, undefended.

“Y/N, I’m telling you, we don’t have much time-“

“I don’t care!” You’re breathing through your nostrils now, your vision a little blurry and your throat dry and uncomfortable. “Listen, Tuwaine, I have no fucking idea who the hell you are, but if you think I’m about to let you-“

“What the fuck is going on in here?!”

A third voice joins the mix, and you spin around to see a familiar figure in the doorway: Harrison, one of Tom’s friends. You’ve met him a few times — you trust him. The cold light held in his piercing blue eyes fades as he looks between you, Tuwaine, and the knife you have pointed at his chest. As he runs a hand through his curls, sweaty and matted, his expression shifts into one of understanding.

Tuwaine speaks up, voice quieter. “She won’t let me take her out. Thinks I’m gonna kill her, or something.”

Harrison clicks his tongue. “We’re here to help you, Y/N,” he says. He makes strides across the room and plucks the knife from your hand before you can process it. “Are you good to go?”

You nod quickly. “Will one of you tell me what’s going on?” You say, a little calmer now that you know you’re no longer alone.

“Later.” Harrison reaches down for your hand, linking your fingers with his. “Be alert. It’s still dangerous out here, even with us here to help protect you.”

The lump in your throat is still there, stubborn even when you swallow. “Okay,” you say. 

Tuwaine covers your front as Harrison lingers behind you, the two men moving around you as they take you back through the house. You feel helpless as you watch the scenes of fighting around you, men fighting one another, bodies on the floor. Harrison continues to hold you hand, even when you’re scared, even when he’s fighting, his grip firm and unwavering. 

Eventually you reach outside, and as the stuffy air of the mansion is exchanged with the fresh breeze of the garden, you find yourself unsteady on your feet. 

“Where’s Tom?” You manage, voice thick. Your head aches, and as Harrison drops your hand, you start to feel sick. Now that you’re safe, the full weight of your experience catches up to you. 

"Y/N, Y/N-- are you good?” Harrison moves closer again, his face disappearing as black and white dots begin to fuzz across your vision. You hear the sound of a scuffle, coming from the front of the mansion, but the noises fade too, absorbed into your delirium. 

Harrison’s arms find your waist and he holds you up as you try to slow your breathing. You can feel the concern in their gazes, but you think you’ll be able to push through, until…

“Oh my god, Y/N, darling.” Your dizzy gaze dips up and settles onto Tom. His fists are bloody and his hair’s a mess and he’s got bruises forming on his face, but he’s looking at you like you’re the injured one, and that’s enough to push you over the edge.

It all catches up to you. The dehydration, starvation, exhaustion, and trauma. For the second time, your eyes fall shut and you pass out, the world slipping away into a deep, black blur.

[-----]

You drift in and out of consciousness for several hours. Each time you wake, it’s just for a brief moment, and then you’re pulled under again.

Through your restless slumber, you pick up on a few things. You’re fairly sure that there was a drip fixed to the back of your hand for a few hours, but it vanishes once you’ve had a bandage wrapped around your skull. You become aware of the presence of someone else, their touch tingling over your skin every once in a while. Their hands are gentle as they tangle with your fingers, and you find yourself relaxing in your sleep as you feel the light fluttering of lips passing over your forehead. You can smell the deep cedarwood scent, and you know it’s Tom, and you’re grateful for it - his presence like a soft, warm reminder that you aren’t alone.

When you finally wake up, you’re back in your bedroom. The curtains are closed, but a small gap allows a stream of bright light to drift into your room, causing you to screw up your gaze as you slowly sit up, looking around. Your fingers find your head, touching tenderly over your bandaged forehead and your face. You wince as you feel a line of stitches on your cheek.

Before you can get too caught up in your musings, your eyes catch sight of Tom, spread across your floor. He’s half naked, his chest bare and rising gently as he snores quietly, his lower half in a pair of grey joggers. His position looks awkward and uncomfortable, but the sight of him so gentle and unassuming brings a soft smile to your face.

“Tom?” You call out, wincing as you hear the scratchiness in your voice. He stirs immediately, brown eyes snapping open and finding yours as he scrambles to his feet. He’s hesitant to approach you, but you hold out a hand and breathe out a sigh of relief as he takes it.

“How do you feel?” Tom asks you, eyes darting all over your face. His expression is full of pain, as if it causes him agony to see you like this.

“Sore,” you admit. “Head hurts.” You pause, taking a moment to assess yourself. “I’m hungry.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Toast.” Tom brings your hand to his lips and kisses over your knuckles gently, meeting your gaze with his soft, guilty eyes.

“I’ll be right back.”

Tom returns five minutes later with a tray laden with goods. He fluffs your pillows and helps you get comfortable as you start to eat the toast and drink some tea, but he’s awkwardly lingering by the door, and his expression is so tortured that you can’t quite take it.

“You can come and sit with me, you know,” you say, looking down at your toast.

“Are you sure?”

You look up to him, eyes assessing the deep bruises he’s got spread over one cheek. Your teeth find your lower lip and you pat the open spot beside you. “I’m not the only one who got hurt.” Something like a flinch passes across Tom’s face, but when your lips curl into an encouraging smile, he tenderly crosses the room. His body is warm as he slips beneath the duvet and sits beside you, his bare arm pressing against yours. It’s nice, to be so close again, but you can’t allow yourself to lean into it. Not yet. “You may as well start talking,” you say, your words soft. “You owe me an explanation.”

“How much do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

As you work your way through your pot of tea, Tom speaks. His voice is soft and soothing, but it clips around the edges as he gradually becomes more and more emotional. He tells you that he’s the leader of the London mob, and he’s fully immersed in that life. You listen as he recounts the night he became the leader - the night he watched his father die - and you watch as he chokes up and talks about how family is everything, and says he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect the people he loves. His eyes grow guilty as they trace across your face, and he tells you that the only reason you’d been accosted was because of him, and a disagreement between his mob and his rivals.

“-And they were right,” Tom finishes, “I’d have given them anything- anything to get you back safely, love.” One of his hands moves up as if to touch your bruised face, but he hesitates, eyes clouding with guilt. “I’m sorry we took so long to find you.”

As he reaches the end of it, you look at him, your gaze hard. His eyes are red and teary, and his grip on your hand is so strong that it hurts a little.

“You’re an idiot, y’know that?”

Tom’s chuckle is watery, but it sounds like heaven opening up. “Is that really all you have to say?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I have a lot I want to say to you.” You pause, turning your head to the side, and you press a small, soft kiss to his shoulder, gazing up at him with wide eyes. “At least I understand, now. Why you were always so sketchy.”

“Yeah.” Tom’s hand goes back to your uninjured cheek, and he finally lets his fingers slowly trail across your cheekbone. “I was not having an affair, things were just…”

“Complicated,” you supply. Your lips twitch into a smile as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch intoxicating. “I’m still angry,” you tell him.

“I know.” Tom’s thumb pauses its movements, resting on your lip as his eyes search yours deeply. “You shouldn’t have ever been dragged into this. I tried to keep you out of it, love, but I couldn’t stop myself coming back.” He hesitates, voice catching. His fingers lightly brush over your stitches and he winces. “I was selfish with my affection. It wasn’t fair to you, and I’m so, so sorry, darling.”

“I… think I understand,” you say, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You raise an eyebrow, staring at the man who continues to surprise you. “I’m in it now, though, Tom. They know who I am. They- they know that we’re involved.” Your eyes shift down, and Tom’s hand moves away from your face, leaving you feeling cold and alone. “How do I know this won’t happen again?”

His teeth find his lower lip thoughtfully. “If we move you, they shouldn’t be able to find you. I’ll- I’ll buy you a new flat, wherever you want, love. When they stop seeing us together, they’ll get the hint.” His eyes shift, downcast as he becomes extremely intrigued by the duvet. “I can get a security detail put on you. It might take a while, but hopefully you’ll be able to feel safe again.” His fingers fist at the sheets and you watch as the blood drains from his tense knuckles. “I will make sure you feel safe again.”

You bring a hand to his shoulder, your touch releasing some of the pressure he’s holding in his muscles. “Why will they stop seeing us together?”

“I guess I, uh, expect you to hate me,” Tom says quietly, picking out his words carefully. His eyes finally dip up to meet yours, his brown orbs floating with an appreciation that leaves you breathless. “Even now you know the truth, if you don’t want to see me again, I get it. Fuck, love, I don’t deserve to have you around. Not after everything I’ve put you through.”

You’re quiet for a few moments. Your hand moves from his shoulder and around to the back of his head, and you find comfort twirling your fingers through his soft strands. You admire his side profile, drinking in the familiar lines of the man who has brought more action into your life than anyone else, and your heart squeezes in your chest.

“I like you, Tom. I really like you.” Your mouth falls to his shoulder and you press a few gentle kisses over his skin. You peer up at him. “Will you be honest with me, from now on?”

He allows a small smile to stretch across his lips. “Of course.” He wraps an arm around you, trying to bring you closer. You move up, your aching muscles burning as you swing a leg over him and settle in his lap comfortably, hands both toying with his hair. You face him straight on, his gaze shifting over you, drinking you in, eyes wide and curious. “Are you sure?” He asks.

You shrug slightly. “You drive me crazy, Tom. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. But I know that- that I really like you, and I want to have you in my life, if you want that too.”

His mouth peppers a series of light, delicate kisses around your face, his hands soothing over your waist. You sigh into him, realising how badly you’d missed him - his touch, and his voice, and his heart.

“I feel things for you that I’ve never felt for anyone before, love. I’m not going to let that go. I’m not going to let you go. I would give you the world, if you asked.”

You grasp his cheeks, bringing him close so your nose presses to his. His eyes go a little cross-eyed and it makes you laugh, the sound mixing with his chuckle beautifully. “I don’t need the world,” you tell him softly. “I just need you.”

His lips find yours, and it’s gentle, but intensely emotional. His mouth feels perfect to yours, even though his lips are chapped and he’s trembling, and you use your hands in his hair to keep him near. Tom’s hands dip down, settling into the curves of your hips like he’s done a thousand times before, and for a moment, nothing else really matters.

“Be mine,” he whispers against you, the words drifting into the air as he continues to kiss you, lips warm and soft. “Be my girlfriend.”

You smile against his lips. “I’d love to,” you mumble, “Tom Holland, my boyfriend. Sounds nice.”

He pulls you closer until you’re flush against him, your chests touching. His lips trail around your face, brushing over all the places that ache and replacing the pain with his love. His eyes reflect nothing but a soft warmth, and it makes you feel so safe, and protected, and peaceful that you decide it doesn’t matter what’s happened, or how things transpired, because now you’re here, holed up in his arms, and you know he’ll never let something like that happen again.

“My girlfriend,” he whispers, kissing at your ear. The words bring goosebumps to your skin as his mouth closes around your earlobe. “My,” kiss, “girlfriend,” kiss. Tom finds your lips, kissing you strongly, and you enjoy it. “Prettiest girl in the world, love.” His eyes sparkle like diamonds, and you feel a joyous heat tickle at your cheeks.

“To say you’re a mob boss, you’re very tender, Tom,” you say, a light lilt to your voice. You kiss his nose softly. “Love it, though.”

“Only with you,” he admits. When he kisses you, his teeth drag along your lower lip, and you whine softly into his mouth. “Can only be myself around you, darling.”

“Good job I’ll be sticking around for a while then, hm?”

“A very good job,” he agrees. Tom’s hands squeeze around your waist and he pulls you close, your heart beating happily in your chest as your head goes to rest against him. He hugs you near, grip firm and unmoving, and you let your eyes fall shut as you bask in his warmth. “Do you need anything else, angel?”

You bring your mouth up and press a line of kisses along Tom’s jaw. “Hold me?” He shuffles further down the mattress and welcomes you in as you wrap yourself around him, clinging to his familiar figure. His hands wander over your back, tracing small patterns to your body and tangling in your hair, and it feels like coming home.

“Sleep, pretty girl,” he instructs, pulling you closer. “I’ll be here.”

And you know he will. You know Tom will be here for as long as you need him, and you know that might mean he stays with you forever. The thought terrifies you, because it’s no easy feat to open yourself up so wholly like that, but it’s Tom, and you know you can take the risk, because it’s him, and he’s holding you so delicately that you know you have nothing to fear, anymore. You know that he’s truthful as he whispers sweet nothings into your hair, promising you the world, promising you everything he has, promising you his love.

“Night, Tom,” you mumble to his chest.

His lips pass over your forehead for a final, soothing time. “Night, m’love.”

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #32 - Nobody’s Ever Actually Dead in Comic Books

Our band of merry guys-who-weren’t-on-the-Lost-Light-in-issue-#1 approach the shattered husk of the Lost Light, in a gruesome scene that is only slightly marred by the graphic design.

Font doesn’t really suggest danger, does it? Here, for comparison, is something I slapped together in fifteen minutes (including recreation of background) using a font I got off a free font site.

Now, one could say that my version is rather derivative, flat, and arguably cliche, but you know what else it is? Appropriate for the fucking mood of having found a destroyed, hemorrhaging ship after everyone you knew disappeared.

I’m available, IDW! Hit me up.

Theorizing that this is the ship that the Coffin Rodimus came from- remember that? It was a few issues ago- the gang flies in for a closer look. The ship blood is actually something called quantum foam, which allows for quantum space travel to happen. It’s not supposed to be outside of the quantum quills, but the ship’s pretty junked up, so it is.

Because the ship is so very full of holes, the gang can set down for repairs pretty easy. They land in Swerve’s, finding it in less-than-pristine condition. They also find evidence of Crosscut having gotten creative, as a poster for the play he was working on is hung up in the room. Considering he was still writing it when he disappeared, this might seem a bit odd. But then you remember that this is a ship from the future, and it stops being so odd.

Because this is a future ship, with evidence that Crosscut did some stuff, it stands to reason that, at some point, everyone is going to come back from being disappeared.

Just to die.

Which is a bummer, but one crisis at a time.

Megatron disembarks the Rod Pod, with Ravage following, and everyone is just a touch put off by the duo. Everyone but Nautica, who proceeds to commit a microaggression.

Nautica, that’s Soundwave’s father you’re petting like a common animal.

Ravage, angered by this over-familiarity, swats at her. Skids questions letting an active Decepticon roam around, but Megatron brushes off these concerns, saying that finding any still-living crew members is more important. With that, the search begins.

The gang splits up to look for clues, despite Riptide thinking this is a horrible idea. They’re on the clock for this one- the quantum foam is liable to explode if it touches anything, and there’s an awful lot of the stuff floating around right now.

Nightbeat and Nautica leave the rest of the group to their own work, seeing as Nautica has the most appropriate alt-mode for traversing the gaps in the ship.

Man, that’s pretty cool. Wish Nautica hadn’t been regulated to being “girl best friend” for her character arcs, I would have loved to see her do some neat stuff for her own development. Guess that’s what happens when you get introduced as main cast late, and have to compete with all the faves who had dozens of issues to be established and who also don’t have to deal with the whole “token girl character” thing.

The rest of the gang- Megatron, Ravage, Riptide, Skids, and Getaway- start looking in the area they’re already in. Seems a little lopsided, but whatever.

Ravage finds someone almost immediately, identifying Ultra Magnus through smell alone. Only, it isn’t just Ultra Magnus.

The Magnus armor lays not terribly far away, having had its hands cut off to prevent the recall signal from being activated before being gut-murdered.

Gut-murdered wiTH A FUSION CANNON, MEGATRON

Of course, Megatron was forced to destroy his fusion canon after it was decided he would be joining the Lost Light, but you can buy these things off the black market like it’s nothing. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brainstorm had a few stashed in his lab.

As it currently stands, nobody can trust the guy who has a storied past of killing Autobots, on a future ship where the only folks who could stop him are dead. Megatron, at least, has the good sense to not argue this fact, and suggests that the boys lock both Ravage and himself up until they suss out exactly what happened.

Meanwhile, over with Nautica and Nightbeat, we run through all the weird shit that’s happened in the last day or so.

Nautica, you’ve been on this ship for months now. How did you miss the fact that the only couple within 800 miles got annihilated by way of Phase Sixer? I feel like that attack might have come up at some point.

Since they’re on the subject of spouses, Nightbeat asks Nautica if she’s married, or if she has friends. Though noting that such a direct line of questioning might get him slapped with someone else, Nautica reveals that she is single, though she does have a best friend. Nightbeat is also single, probably because he pulls shit like this.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica uses her Sonic Screwdriver wrench to open a door with the literal push of a button. Brainstorm tricked out her wrench so hard it turned into a magic wand, which is good, because they’re going to need all the help they can get now that space is literally warping around them thanks to the quantum foam.

Nautica kicks something on the elevator, and that something turns out to be Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase. Too bad Swerve is gone, he was so invested in what it contained. Luckily, Nightbeat is just as interested.

Back over on the other side of the ship, it seems as though Megatron kept his word about not resisting, as both he and Ravage have been locked in a cabinet. Wonder how that’s going for them.

Oh, better than I expected.

Ravage is fucking pissed that Megatron joined the Autobots, thereby turning his back on everyone who supported his cause during the last four million years. Despite this grievous betrayal though, the Decepticons haven’t stopped moving. Turns out, Galvatron’s in charge now.

But only if Autobot Megatron isn’t some sort of ploy.

It’s at this point that we learn just why Ravage is here to begin with- to see if Megatron’s truly given up the Decepticons, and if he has, to murder him. But first he’d like to know why this is happening.

Megatron views himself as a monster, having perpetuated a war that ended the lives of billions, destroyed the Cybertronian way of life, ostracized his race from the rest of the universe, and killing just to have something to do. He doesn’t like feeling this way about himself, so he decided to walk away from that life by joining the other team.

Don’t think it’s quite that easy to do, but okay.

Ravage isn’t so sure that this change of heart is going to stick, still convinced that Megatron will snap back to his old self with just a bit more time. Problem is, Megatron may not have a ton of that resource left.

Didn’t they build that body in like an hour so you wouldn’t die? Yeah, no wonder it feels as ill-fitting as a twenty-dollar suit. Thing’s probably made out of pig iron and duct tape.

The lights come on before further self-reflection can be done, and the duo realize that they’ve had guests this whole time.

Someone put the kettle on.

Obviously some fucked up shit happened on this ship. Megatron isn’t so sure that it’s him who did these dirty deeds, however, as he reaches into Ratchet’s mouth and pulls out his brain. Which feels like something that doesn’t really absolve one of guilt, but okay.

Also, ew.

Back with Nautica and Nightbeat, things are getting weird.

Now, this sequence might seem confusing at first blush, but this is because the laws of reality are collapsing around them. Going by clues in the background, we can find the proper, linear progression of time, and thus is conversation. This is what is actually happening:

With the mystery of Brainstorm’s briefcase eluding us once again, we move on to see more graphic aftermaths of violence. Poor Tailgate has been nailed to the wall with a chunk of a metal beam that’s almost as big as he is. The mood lighting for this scene is gorgeous, but I’ve hit my limit for exposing y’all to gore for this issue, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Then they find something even more interesting.

Who’s ready for Under Cold Blue Stars… 2!

Back over on the opposite side of the ship, Riptide’s found something nasty. It’s a bunch of dead bodies!

Including, uh, Pipes.

Who already died a while ago.

Hm.

All the bodies in this room are in their alts, and it looks like they’ve all been shot and drilled into, for some reason. Skids brings up that he had a friend who could identify the placement of any robot’s brain module just by knowing what they turned into. Then he reaches into a corpse to see what the drill-hole’s all about. It makes him sick, though maybe not for the reason you might think. He gets on the phone with Nightbeat, who’s called to tell them that they’ve found Overlord.

Still locked in his weird body harness.

And decapitated.

Megatron is on the other line, calling because he’s figured out the same thing Skids has. Someone paid a visit to this ship. Someone nasty.

The gang regroups, and Nautica gets the basics on the DJD, because I guess nobody’s mentioned them even in passing in the last six months, either.

God, what do they even talk about on this ship? Certainly not their feelings.

The reason that one room was filled with alt-modes was because of Tarn’s addiction to transforming; t-cogs are easier to remove when they’ve been used recently.

We get a quick 4/5ths-page gore-fest, then it’s back to making it all about Megatron.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you FUCKING DEFECTED, YOU POOL NOODLE.

Nightbeat’s beginning to put two and two together. There’s an Overlord in the basement. That shouldn’t be, because Overlord got exploded by Chromedome when he mercy-killed Rewind. Something is off about the past of this ship.

Before he can establish his MTMTE everybody-lives-but-then-dies AU though, the quantum foam fucks with the ship. These sons of guns need to get the hell out of here, pronto.

Oh god, what now?

Ravage smells someone inside the Magnus armor, someone who isn’t a part of the usual nesting doll lineup. Megatron reaches into the Crackerjack box and pulls out one hell of a prize.

HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES

Chromedome would be so thrilled, if he still existed.

[redqueen-hypothesis]

kisses ➳ mlqc

kiro

bold and playful kisses

kiro’s kisses are just like his personality, cheeky, lighthearted and sweet - he likes to keep you anticipating, a back and forth tango that keeps you on your toes and has you watching your steps

his lips are quick, darting about your face, fleeting kisses landing along the soft skin of your cheeks and forehead. you can hear his laughter in your ears with each kiss, successive ones growing softer and softer until he leans in for real

he likes to press his forehead to yours, the two of you swaying back and forth with his arms wrapped around your waist, so close that you can count every eyelash, spun from sunlight, framing summer blue eyes as vibrant and clear as a cloudless sky

his kisses are direct and simple, a firm caress of the lips that translates his affections into something physical you can feel - it’s warm and makes your chest feel so full, almost blissfully so

he tastes sweet, honey and candy melting in your mouth with each stroke of his tongue, fingers gently pressing into your sides. breaks away occasionally for you to catch your breath, both your cheeks dusted pink, and you giggle at each other

sometimes, his kisses deepen, turning into something dark and desperate, teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging it into his mouth. the second you let out the slightest gasp or moan, however, kiro’s frantically backtracking, reining himself in before you can fully lose yourself to his mouth, leaving you aching for more

all of that changes, however, once you learn of who he really is

ferocious and wild kisses

he doesn’t care if his lips land on your mouth or not, thumb pushing down on your chin to part your lips so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth with an almost wild desperation

more teeth and tongue than lips, but it’s impossible to ignore the want in his eyes, the way his fingers bury themselves in your hair to yank your mouth impossibly close, slight pain stinging your scalp but it feels so good

your teeth clack against each other as he kisses you more, hands in your hair angling you better so that he can plunder your mouth for his own pleasure - and for yours - stealing your sanity until your nails are digging into his shoulders

your lips end up bruised but you’re panting uncontrollably into his mouth, completely lost in those tortured blue eyes that lure you into their icy depths with a single glance

gavin

shy, almost timid kisses

gavin’s new to this whole dating and kissing thing - he knows in theory two mouths are supposed to go together and bam! a kiss happens. please be patient with him

he cradles your face in his hands, almost as if you’re made out of glass and would shatter any second, and strokes the pad of his thumb over your cheekbones, your jaw, before it tentatively traces the outline of your lips

the expression he wears is so focused, like he’s trying to commit every feature of your face to memory - as if he hasn’t already

this entire time, his touch is so gentle you could cry, his love for you is so evident with every tender touch, every affectionate caress. you reach up to clasp his hand in yours, press it to your cheek a little more firmly. kiss me.

gavin doesn’t deny you (when has he ever?). shyly, he leans down, amber eyes darting back and forth as he tries to figure out what would be the best angle to kiss you from, but then you’re tugging him down with your hand at the back of your neck and your lips meet in a gentle collision

once his lips are on yours, he’s a little less inhibited, lips slanting and moving against yours, one arm pulling you closer to him and the other at the back of your neck, tilting your head up to meet his

constantly mumbles “is this okay?”, “does this feel good?”, “do you like this?” against your lips all while you’re gasping into his mouth, trying to press as close to him as humanly possible

tongue darts out tentatively to draw a soft stripe across your lips, and when you open your mouth for him he’s still cautious and careful. it takes a while before he brings teeth into the equation

but once he does get more comfortable with kissing? it’s all over for you

earnest and determined kisses

determined to please you, that is. to make you feel good, to make you moan, to make you whimper, gavin wants to hear you make all those noises for him

pulls you to his chest and claims your lips without hesitation, grounding you to him - he’s the eye in the tornado

wants to do all the work. all you need to do is accept the affection he’s giving you. soft, appreciative noises spilling unchecked from your mouth only fuels him more, and he redoubles his efforts to hear more of those sweet sounds

victor

romantic, gallant kisses

he’s not a desperate teenage boy who can’t keep it in his pants, he’s a whole grown man who can resist enough to leave you desperate and craving more

kisses you in a methodical, practiced way that he knows you love, large hands sifting through your hair and drawing you closer to him, but not too close though, because propriety

leaves you a wanting mess, his kisses firm yet so insistent that you can’t help but submit everything to him, losing yourself in the heat of his mouth and the intensity burning low in his eyes that warn you of how much more he wants

each slide of his lips on yours is carefully calculated, designed to pull the most wanting of noises from your lips. he knows what you like, and he will not hesitate to give it to you in full - unless, of course, you’ve done something to tease him during the day and he wants payback

very attentive to your body language, the soft moans you let out and the way you try to move your head to kiss him better. you can be assured that victor will take care of your every need, his own desire taking the back seat as he takes it upon himself to pleasure you with his mouth (yes, we’re still talking about kisses here)

but make him lose control, however, whether it be by attracting unwanted eyes to you at a party, or wearing that backless red silk dress he’d gifted you for his eyes only, and all pretense of self restraint is shredded

fierce, possessive kisses

he’s trying to consume you, you’re sure of it. his mouth takes no prisoners, lips feasting on yours and sucking on your tongue until you let out a whimper that sounds pathetic to even your own ears

does not hesitate to leave your lips red and swollen from the sheer intensity of his kisses, victor wants to let everyone who comes in close enough to see your lips that way know that you’re his and his alone

doesn’t let up for you to breathe, his exhalations becoming your inhalations, until you’re moaning and beating at his chest with a weak fist, head spinning and mind unable to think straight

it’s only then does victor release you, watching you pant for air and a naked blush on your cheeks - that’s when he’s finally satisfied

he doesn’t give you more than a few seconds before he’s taking your lips again, your weak protests about needing to catch your breath dying in the back of your throat again

lucien

teasing, chaste kisses

has the art of seduction down to a science

it’s not so much about the kiss itself, but the sheer intensity in his gaze juxtaposed with the kind, polite smile on his face that makes you wonder if you’re just seeing your own desire reflected in his eyes

the way his knuckles brush your cheekbone gently, dark eyes always fixed on you as if you’re the only thing that exists in the world, the way they drop to fix on your lips as if he wants nothing more than to claim them for his own

take them, you want to say, they’re yours anyway

gathers your hair back with one hand while the other cups your cheek, and he looks into your eyes like he’s trying to find the answers to the universe in them

when he does kiss you, it’s chaste, a simple press of lips to yours, but you can feel the dark desire for more, swimming just beneath his thin veneer of composure and restraint

a push and pull game, he kisses you, you lean in, he pulls away, your lips sliding against each other like magnets, breaths shared between you before he pulls away to give you a lingering kiss

the fire of his mouth burns at the corners of your lips, and he tastes of both unadulterated love and unspoken promises, if you should so agree

you’re on thin ice here

but it’s lucien, so you let yourself go, falling into his arms and kissing back just as desperately as you want to be kissed

terrifyingly all consuming kisses

the way his mouth moves against yours with almost dark possessiveness makes you question if the polite, calm lucien is just a mask for his true nature - he’s consuming every bit of you, mind, body and soul

the more lucien gives you, the more you find yourself wanting, it’s as if you can’t be satisfied

he’s not rough with you, not in the least, but you can feel him holding onto the leash of his restraint, yanking it back in case he scares you away with just how much he wants you

fervently sucking and licking into your mouth until you’re moaning and weak at the knees, holding onto him for support, he drags a hand to the back of your head, finding a way to kiss you harder, deeper

shaw

downright trying to get in your pants kisses

shaw has uhh... much experience in the kissing department, unlike his dear brother (in fact he’s probably done a lot more than just kissing, but let’s skip over that for now)

his kisses are passionate and demanding, coming when and where you least expect it - just like how lightning strikes

you can feel electricity tingling up your spine, his hands wandering everywhere as he pulls you into his lap, slipping up the hem of your shirt, tugging at your waistband, sometimes you have to go whoa slow down there a second

you’re barely catching your breath when he’s kissing you again, and you can feel his smirk against your lips when you yelp at the sensation of his fingers against your bare skin, this little shit-

even the most innocent of kisses turn sexual with this man, he grabs you and just pulls you along with him for the ride, exhilarating, leaving you breathless and laughing

tongue and teeth and wandering fingers

that’s what he’s skilled at, so used to meaningless one night stands and no strings attached arrangements, and he displays his prowess to please you with his mouth at every opportunity you give him (the rest he creates himself)

but there are things shaw doesn’t know how to do

tentative, precious kisses

you tell him one day that not everything needs to be fast paced and charged and he’s a little uncomfortable with this whole idea, but decides to give it a shot

when shaw first starts off, he doesn’t know how to go slow, fingers creeping up your thighs and teeth tugging at your bottom lip until your hands slap them away

begins with awkward, stilted kisses, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands. you laugh and guide them around your neck, before leaning up to place a gentle peck to his lips

he struggles at first, but once he gets used to them, he can’t stop

slow, deep kisses that make him feel lightheaded, he relishes in swallowing your little moans with his mouth

lying in his arms, both of you on the verge of nodding off but not wanting to go to sleep before the other, he turns his head to kiss you, lazily savoring the taste of your lips

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #497

Top Ten PC Games No One Talks About Anymore

Blimey, Quake is rather good, isn’t it? Have you heard about it? I really hope so, because it’s only twenty-five years old. I mean, Jesus. What’s up with that? Quake is meant to be the future. It’s full of true-3D polygonal texture-mapping and real-time dynamic light-sourcing. Fancy it being a quarter of a century old. That’s ridiculous. “Old” is for things like, I dunno, Space Invaders or The Godfather or I Wanna Hold Your Hand. Stuff that our parents heard about before we were born. It’s not – it’s absolutely not – used to describe something that people bought 3D accelerator cards for. It’s not used to describe a game that popularised online gaming.

But old it is, getting silver anniversary cards and everything. No longer the angry, hungry young tiger, devouring its ancestors and growling at upstart rivals like Duke Nukem 3D – sure, you’ve got non-linear levels, interactive scenery, and toilet humour, but we’ve got grenades that bounce with real physics – Quake is now an aged beast of the forest, resplendent, battle-scarred, weary with gravitas. Quake is the game that shaped the now, but it does not represent the future anymore. In fact, arguably its greatest rival – Unreal – is the game with the lasting, living legacy, its progeny building the next generation of gaming with one of the most popular and impressive engines around, the framework underpinning everything from Gears to Jedi to Fortnite. Quake blew us all away, but arguably it ceded the conflict, secure in its status as one of the most important and influential games of all time. Quake II got plaudits for actually having a proper story and an engrossing single-player campaign (and coloured lighting!), and its immediate descendants such as Half-Life changed the nature of what FPS games could do, but in a funny way it feels like Quake has long since retired. A sleeping titan. It got old.

So it’s great that they rereleased it on modern systems! The version of Quake released last month is basically the game I remember, but tarted up a little around the edges, with texture filtering and dynamic shadows and other stuff that I couldn’t manage on my Pentium 75 back in the day. It plays great – it’s slick as anything, and you go tearing round the levels like a Ferrari with a nail gun, blasting dudes and ducking back around a corner before you get hit with a pineapple in the face. It’s the first game I’ve played in a long, long time that evokes the feel of classic PC first-person shooters of that era – which, y’know, kinda makes sense as it is a first-person shooter of that era. But that style of fast-paced run-and-gun, circle-strafing gameplay has gone out of fashion now, with FPS games usually favouring slow, methodical, tactical combat, or larger-scale open-world warfare usually involving vehicles. Whether it’s a straight-up no-frills blaster like Quake, or a game that takes you on more of a linear, narrative journey, like Quake II, or even just a multiplayer-focused arena shooter, like Quake III Arena, it does feel like a dying artform, like a style of gameplay that could do with a resurgence (and, to be fair, there are games on the horizon that look like they’re harking back to the era, so that’s cool).

But it’s not just first-person shooters like Quake that I feel have slipped from gaming’s shared consciousness. Maybe it’s my age (it’s definitely my age) but there seems to be quite a lot of games that were a big deal twenty or so years ago that are utterly forgotten now, whereas some – Doom, Duke Nukem, Command & Conquer, Age of Empires – are often namechecked or rebooted (even before the full-on 2016 reboot, Doom must have been one of the most re-released games of the last thirty years). But there are lots of others where sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that remembers it. And that’s where this list comes in: inspired by the excellent re-release of the Quake franchise, here are some other great PC games of that general era that I feel still need shouting about, even if I’m the only one doing the shouting. Maybe they don’t all need a full-on remaster or whatever, but it’d still be nice if they got a bit of modern gaming love.

No One Lives Forever (2000): coming at a time when most FPS games were still Doom-style blasters with little in the way of real plot, NOLF was different: stylish and funny, genuinely well-written (as in the dialogue), with interesting objective-based missions and a cool female protagonist. It skirted similar ground to Bond and the then-white-hot Austin Powers franchise. Two games were made and then, as far as I’m aware, it evaporated into a mess of tangled rights, hence no sequels or remakes. A shame, because it was great.

MDK (1997): the next game from the people who made the multimedia phenomenon that was Earthworm Jim, MDK was a really cool slice of sci-fi style, all sleek level design and intriguing features. It had a supremely bonkers plot which bled through into a game with a sense of humour, but mostly it was the run-and-gun gameplay and innovative use of a scoped weapon – possibly (don’t quote me on this) the first sniper rifle in a videogame. An even wackier sequel followed, but despite its cult status, that was it.

Star Trek: The Next Generation – Klingon Honor Guard (1998): it’s probably fair to say that Star Trek has not had as many great videogames as Star Wars, perhaps because Trek’s historically straightlaced earnestness just didn’t translate as well as bashing someone up the chops with a laser sword. Honor Guard shook things up by casting you as a Klingon, showering levels with pink blood and going Full Worf. It was the first game to licence the Unreal engine, and had a cool level where you walked along the outside of a ship like in First Contact. Also: shout out to the Voyager game, Elite Force (2000), which was another really good FPS set in the world of Trek, with intriguing gameplay wrinkles as you fought the Borg. It also let you wander round the titular starship between levels. Trek deserves more quality action games like these.

Earth 2150 (2000): the nineties on PC really saw RTS games come down to those who liked Command & Conquer or those who liked Warcraft, but as the decade drew to a close other titles chased the wargame crown (including Total Annihilation, which would have made this list, except I feel like the Supreme Commander franchise is a sequel in all but name). 2150 was notable for its Starcraft-like mix of three factions with contrasting play styles, and its use of 3D graphics and the ability to design and build weapons of war that could lay waste to armies and bases with spectacular results. I think the genre has ossified into something more hardcore, and this was probably an inflex point where idiots like me could still get a handle on things.

Midtown Madness (1999): Microsoft has a history of building up great racing franchises and then abandoning them, but their “Madness” line of games in the late nineties/early noughties was terrific and much-missed. Back when tooling round actual 3D cities was still new and exciting, this was a no-holds-barred arcade racer, with some gorgeous shiny chrome effects on the cars, and very nippy handling. It was great fun smashing up VW Beetles and the like. It was surpassed, I guess, by Project Gotham on the Xbox, and sadly the whole franchise was then forgotten, despite the ascendent Forza franchise mostly shunning city driving.

Commandos: Behind Enemy Lines (1998): part tactical war game, part puzzler, Commandos was famous for its gorgeously intricate graphics and its difficulty – I mean, it was way too hard for me. But its beautiful top-down design and its slow, methodical gameplay was compelling, as you evaded Nazis and solved missions with a team of unique units with special skills. Sequels followed, and western spin-off Desperados, but there’s not been a true follow-up for quite some time, despite promises; and few games have echoed its style or look.

The Pandora Directive (1996): okay, so really this is just a placeholder for an entire subgenre of game that appears to have been forgotten: interactive movies. I know, there are flirtations with this from time to time; and many of these games featured obtuse puzzles and relatively little gameplay strung between FMV scenes. Pandora was great though; a first-person 3D game with loads of old-school adventure aspects, as well as FMV, it was a noir-tinged detective story but set in the future. The Tex Murphy series (of which this was the fourth instalment) has had sequels – the most recent one was sadly cancelled only this year – but many other games of a similar ilk, such as Phantasmagoria and even Wing Commander – have fallen by the wayside. With in-engine graphics now allowing the fluidity and expression of cinematic renders of old, shooting movie inserts doesn’t seem like it’s worthwhile; but I still always loved a point-and-click game that featured digitised actors milling about. Toonstruck, anyone?

Marathon (1994): before Halo there was… Marathon! Back when I used to lug my Pentium round my mate’s house so we could play different games on different machines side-by-side, he’d bang on about this Mac-first series of games, like Doom but better, with an intricate plot and complex levels. And y’know what? He was actually onto something. There’s a style and an earnestness to the Marathon franchise, along with many concepts that would be refined in Halo years later. With Bungie now seemingly committed to Destiny, and Halo in Microsoft’s hands, I’m not sure what could possibly become of this, their forgotten FPS forebear, especially as it shares so much DNA with its offspring.  

Outlaws (1997): LucasArts are famous for two things, really: their Star Wars games and their adventures. But they made loads of other stuff too – including this intriguing Western shoot-em-up. Back when Western games were rarer than Western movies (which were rare at the time), this quirky and difficult cowboy-em-up saw you rounding up outlaws in typical oater locations such as saloons, trains, and mines. It had great music and a really intriguing set of weapons, including (don’t quote me on this) the first sniper rifle in a game. Sadly Outlaws’ success could be described as “cult” and it never got a proper sequel. and, weirdly, despite the success of Red Dead Redemption, we’ve never had a bit Western-themed FPS again. Which is really odd.

Soldier of Fortune (2000): I pondered whether to include this one, as if I’m honest I’m not sure I want this licence brought back. But I can’t deny the game was a huge deal and has seemingly been forgotten. A relatively gritty and realistic combat game with a huge variety of excellent real-world weaponry, its big hook was its incredibly detailed damage modelling, that could see you blowing limbs off enemies, or splitting open heads, or disembowelling them. Whilst its OTT violence made headlines, the granularity of its systems meant you could be more tactical, shooting weapons out of hands. But really its biggest controversy should be its association with a big old gun magazine.

There are many, many other games that nearly made the list - I almost had a Top Ten of just FPS games, for instance. Little Big Adventure was here, till a sequel was announced the other day. Hexen and Heretic I think still have a place in FPS history. Toonstruck, although without a sequel, was only really a cult hit at the time, and I feel the people who’d love it already know about it. I do tend to overthink these things, y’know.

So maybe not all of these could make a comeback, but all the same I don’t think they should be forgotten, and it does make we wonder what games will fall by the wayside twenty or more years from now. That game about the big green space marine dude in a mask – what was that called again…?

[sylverstorms]

Forbidden Fruit

Pairing: Priya x MC (Rose) x Kamilah

Warnings: Heavily! NSFW aka pure sin. Minors, avert your eyes. The rest, prepare to be tainted.

Words: ~1800

A/N: Another request fic, I hope it’s everything you wanted. Enjoy!

Prompt by:

Loud bass. Strobe lights. The comfort of alcohol.

Questionable choices.

Those were the only things Rose was aware of as she raised the forth shot of the night to her lips and downed it in one go. A trail of fire slipped down her throat, its burn more tolerable by the minute. The empty glass was pushed towards the bartender with a vague gesture for a refill. The handsome man regarded her cautiously for a moment, the ‘you sure this is a good idea?’ type of look, before complying.

Of course, Rose was sure.

She was certain going to Priya’s club to drink, dance, let loose and forget how shitty her life had gotten within the last months was most definitely not a good idea. Adrian had warned her to stay away from ‘that place’, Kamilah had pretty much forbid it. Which was exactly what made Rose go, in the end, against all common sense.  

Defiance was as sweet and toxic as the tequila slipping down her system.

Perhaps Kamilah would know –she probably would and Rose was counting on it— the following days and be irritated over it. The secretary dared even hope upset, but that was a long shot for the stone-faced ancient. She was fine with getting even just a mild rise out of her. Anything, other than the cold-shoulder treatment the queen had been giving her, as of late.

‘This won’t work for us. It’s too dangerous. It was a mistake.’ Kamilah had said. Only she’d said it a tad too late, after the human had gone and developed feelings for her she was stupid enough to think were returned.

“Ah. I thought I smelled something delicious.” A familiar voice came from behind, light and throaty.

Rose made to turn around to meet its owner, but a cold, unyielding body blocked her movement. Priya, as always, had zero regard for personal space. Rose hated that she never quite hated it. The designer’s expensive, chocolaty perfume and subtle hair conditioner were impossible to ignore, even over the many scents of the club. Impossible to dislike. The human caught herself breathing in a little deeper.

“And what are you doing here, little bird, so far from the safety of the nest?” Full, dark lips leaned tantalizingly close to her ear.

“Well, it is a club…” Rose gestured, greatly appreciative of the liquid courage in her veins. She couldn’t push Priya off if she tried, so she didn’t even attempt it. Merely turned back to her drink, trying –failing— to ignore the fingers playing with the very tips of her wavy hair. Come on, Rose, you’re drunk enough to focus on the shot…    

“That it is.” Priya slipped from her back to her side, casually leaning against the counter, never too far.

Rose shouldn’t feel the loss of contact so acutely. She willed her eyes to stay glued on her drink, but they didn’t obey, turning of their own volition to the designer, in awe of how good her silver dress looked against her caramel skin. She glowed like an angel. Or, more accurately, like a demon in the guise of one.

Priya raised her long fingers in a deliberately slow motion, knowing, too well, she held every bit of Rose’s attention. She took a sprinkle of salt between them, then turned to lick at her other wrist, never breaking eye-contact with Rose. The secretary had to hold her breath, while an ache settled low in her stomach. She pressed her thighs a little tighter together. Priya dropped the salt onto her wrist and held a lime between her teeth with a sexy little wink.

Her arched eyebrow was a challenge; ‘do you think you can play?’

Rose shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Indulgence with Priya was fatal, but she made temptation so difficult to resist. The secretary did not shy away from the hunger in her eyes. She leaned in, licking the salt off the designer’s smooth skin, lingering just a tad over non-beating veins. Then she downed her shot… and went for the lime.

Priya smirked as the secretary sucked on it, both loving its sourness and loathing the fact it was between them. The vampire fixed the problem for her, taking the lime off her mouth to replace it with her lips. 

Oh. Rose’s brain halted. 

She didn’t think it was possible for a kiss to feel so slippery and so good, but the way Priya moved, the way her tongue coaxed hers only to leave her wanting more, proved otherwise. Cold hands once again framed her waist, crushing their bodies together, sharp nails digging in.

Rose hissed from the sting, but Priya only chuckled, following her for another prolonged liplock. By the time she pulled back, the secretary could barely stand. She was pretty sure there would be crescent marks on her skin the next morning, but they were not as insistent an ache as the one between her legs.

The vampire seemed to notice, her gaze an abyss as she stared at Rose, ready to devour her. Her fingers closed around her wrist in a vice grip, pulling, too fast, towards the back room.

“Stop right there.” A growl came from behind them, halting their steps.

Rose whipped around to see Kamilah, far more agitated than she’d ever imagined. There were ominous shadows around her eyes, a petrifying coldness to her aura. She was furious, like a wildfire about to burn everything to the ground. Holy…

Priya, however, only laughed. Her chin dropped to Rose’s shoulder, an arm around her waist. “And why would I, stick-in-the-mud? Have you forgotten this is my kingdom?”

“It’s my human you’re laying hands on.” Kamilah took another step forward, a clear warning. Rose gulped. That was terrifying…ly Hot, her horny brain added. “Drop them before you lose them.”

“Yours?” Priya smirked challengingly. “I don’t see your mark on her.” she guided her hair out of the way to make her point. “I don’t smell your scent.” she said it against Rose’s neck, just to anger Kamilah further. “But she’s a big girl. If she doesn’t want to have fun with me, she can walk away before it begins.”

“Come, Rose. Let’s go.” Kamilah said.

But the secretary… wasn’t so sure. “You can’t just toss me and pull me back on a whim.” she stated. “If you’re going to let go, then let go.”

Priya smirked victoriously and began leading her to the next chamber with deceptive gentleness. Backward steps, so she could gloat at Kamilah’s look all the way. 

The vampires feeding on their every desire in the Red Room looked up with hungry eyes when the pair passed them by, but the look their clan leader gave them was an order in itself –‘this one is for me alone’.

The final room was a decadent space filled with dark tiles and black sheets, a wardrobe Rose wasn’t sure she wanted to open out of fear of what it contained and a four-poster, queen-sized bed whose purpose was clear. There were no windows. No means of escape.

“Welcome to my sanctum, doll.” Priya spoke by her ear, from behind. A cold finger traced across her shoulders, to the zipper of her dress. The human shivered. “Now come, let me see you.” The fabric pooled, crimson as blood, at Rose’s feet. The designer’s lips latched onto her neck as though they couldn’t wait to drink from it. “Let me taste you.”

Rose could only moan at the feel.

Half a second later, the room was spinning; she was pushed onto the bed and harshly pinned there. The vampire, out of her own dress and clad only in black, lacy lingerie, pushed up between her legs, biting underneath her jaw with blunt teeth. Rose bit her lip not to cry out, but she was certain she’d already stained through her white underwear and her control over her body’s primal cravings was fading fast.

Priya pulled back to regard her with glowing red eyes. Rose wanted to commit the wild beauty to memory, though wasn’t given time to. The designer moved fast, ducked, pushed twin needles into her skin. 

Rose really did cry out, then.

The sensation was different with every vampire, but no less addictive for both parties involved. Priya hurt, at first. A lot. Enough to drive the human to tears. Then all the cutting chill and pain shifted into boundless pleasure, mind-numbing, toe-curling, deep and so very dark. Rose wanted to push her fangs deeper into her veins, as far in as they would reach. She was already on the edge of her orgasm…

When Priya’s head was extracted from her neck. 

Rose was shocked to see Kamilah there, fangs bared and hissing, followed by the younger vampire’s animalistic growl. And yet, somehow, even the sight of Priya with her fangs stained red and trails of blood down her chin only served to ignite Rose further.

It occurred to her they were one step away from pouncing on each other, so she did the only thing she could.

She pushed herself up and between them.

Priya’s eyes flitted from her body, to her wound, to Kamilah. The elder queen leaned down to lick the blood as though she couldn’t help herself. Rose groaned. Then the designer was pressed to her front once more, tipping her chin up to kiss down her throat, a slender finger hooking into her panties and pulling them to the side.

Rose had no time to wonder what was happening. Everything was touch and slippery chill and heat and she couldn’t tell who was caressing her where. Kamilah’s nails moved up her thighs. Her fangs barely prickled at a lower spot on her neck. Priya was toying with her center, lips and tongue at her breast.

“I –ah!— I can’t—!” she panted –cried?— one hand finding purchase on Kamilah’s hair, the other on Priya’s shoulder. She was burning with the need to crumble into pieces in their arms. To come all over Priya’s fingers while Kamilah was biting her, but she wasn’t even certain if she could take that—  

Both vampires moved, then. Two sets of fangs sank into opposite sides of her jugular and Rose lost her mind, her body, the bed beneath her knees. She screamed against the tidal wave of pleasure, coating and clenching around Priya’s fingers. It was too much, otherworldly, enough to shatter her mind. 

Her orgasm felt never-ending… until the world started to grow dark.

Kamilah was the first to pull away, then pushed at Priya to stop. The designer leaned back with a satisfied hum, licking her full lips. Her sexy smile and red eyes were hypnotizing in the blur settling over Rose’s mind, the exhaustion crawling across her limbs…

Her eyes began to droop. Her body to fall. Kamilah’s hand curled around her head and gently guided her to the plush pillows. Rose fought down the urge to surrender to sleep, yet it was overpowering.

The echo of Priya’s soft, insistent mouth and Kamila’s caring, firm touch followed her to the land of dreams.  

[thiswasinevitableid]

7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand. 

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest. 

He just wanted to help. 

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident. 

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety. 

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills. 

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots. 

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless. 

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings. 

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries. 

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat. 

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground. 

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

Bitter metal on his tongue. 

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth. 

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed. 

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself. 

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ��im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing. 

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.” 

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes. 

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

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

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with. 

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness. 

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip. 

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep. 

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

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

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage. 

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness. 

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away. 

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away. 

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans. 

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

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly. 

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors. 

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things. 

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed. 

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

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

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl. 

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around. 

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection. 

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new. 

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever. 

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.” 

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment. 

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest. 

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” 

[vesperstalksclones]

What will you do after Mandalore?

Rated teen

Ingredients: kissy kissy, pining, angst, oogling, heavy petting, Rex likes using the F word a lot and thinks plenty about his tool

Sketch by @i-got-no-bones

He spotted her across the sky plaza that they had commandeered as a landing platform. Arms crossed, feet spread, back arched into her posture; every inch of her shining with pride as she watched her men tend to their business. 

Rex was content to merely stand and observe for a moment. Ahsoka Tano had disappeared over a year ago, radio silent. Furious and hurting, no doubt, after the Jedi council, men and women she had called family, had handed her over to the republic judiciary system to be tried on circumstantial evidence for a crime she didn't commit. Her name had been cleared and the culprit caught, but when the council invited her back sheepishly, after her humiliating excommunication, she graciously told them to shit in their hat, turned heel and walked away. He respected her for that, also envied her the freedom to be able to do so. If he stuck his birds to the GAR and turned his back, his parting gift would, at best, be a blaster shot to the shebs. Property didn't get to make choices like that.

He could have tracked her down, but she hadn't left him so much as a scribble in parting. He had not taken it well. First came panic - she was alone, who would have her back? Then anger - the 501st and Torrent squadron weren't good enough to stay for? Fuck her!!! The pain of abandonment - didn't the years fighting side by side mean anything, the men who had died protecting her life? Blind fury at the council that had driven her away - he had demolished several training druids to cope with that. Jealousy; that perhaps she had retreated somewhere… to someone… someone male... to lick her wounds and seek comfort. Like that litte Bonterri fuck stick. 

"No, old man, you turned yourself pretty inside out over Ahsoka's nonexistent good bye", Rex mused, a wry smile spreading over his lips. After about four weeks of stewing in his own volatile pit of self-pity and rage, during a particularly long night of insomnia spiced with bourbon whiskey, he realized why he was so angry. Fuck the Jedi, they didn't return the loyalty she had always offered. Fuck the GAR. They would carry on fighting and killing and invading and dying with or without her. 

Rex had realized, in those oppressive pre-dawn hours, that he agonized because she had left him. They had been companions for more than three years! She had grown from a bratty youngling, to a capable warrior, to a leader almost without match. They loved her, the 501st. Torrent, the battering ram of the esteemed legion, especially worshipped her. If General Skywalker was the spearpoint of the forces, the Troopers were the rigid staff,, and Ahsoka was the sinews and lead and nails that held the two together. They had adopted her as their blood sister, named her Vod'ika, and taught her their words. The squadron had cracked a little from their loss. The center of the chasm had been their CO. Rex was drowning in despair when he had heard his own voice quietly wimper… 

"Why did you leave me?"

It hurt, to hear it out loud. It made the pain more real somehow. He had curled inward  on himself, hating that he desperately needed his friend to help him cope, and yet she was the one he was mourning. 

By the time he had crawled from his bunk, all vestiges of anger had burned away. Left behind was only depression, and empty bitterness. Everything became harder after that. Skywalker also suffered her loss, and he and Rex began to severely grate on each other's nerves. Rex flung himself into work and training for the distraction, earning a multitude of grumbles from his Vod as he expected them to keep up his grueling pace. 

And then… Skywalker commed him. The General spoke as nonchalantly as if he was discussing the soy loaf at dinner. There was a mission to be had, to Mandalore. Bo Katan Kryze was in need of assistance, unseating the Sith lord Maul who had claimed the planet for his own. She would be meeting them in roughly 72 hours, with her comrade at arms. A certain Lady Tano. 

Rex had leapt from his desk, pacing a circle for nearly an hour. Skywalker said that they would accompany her, Rex in command of as many men as she needed. His stomach was clawing inside him like a trapped loth cat, with anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. 

He needed to tell his boys. Her boys. Their girl was coming home. He had stood there smiling like an idiot, loving the feel of those words in his weary brain. 

He called Torrent to attention in their barracks, briefly explaining the mission. They were going to fight for their father's home. Serve the warrior people that had created all that the Vode held dear. He could see the energy beginning to rise from them, the promise of a fight that really did belong to them in some way.

 He savored a pause, keeping her his precious secret for a second longer, before he flung her name to his troops like fresh meat to hungry dogs. The resulting roar was deafening, with a string of particularly loud expletives from Jesse, who had become his de-facto Captain, as Rex had taken on the Command of the 501st in purpose if not in official name. It warmed his tired heart to the core.

 Excusing himself he strode away to his quarters. The energy that the mere mention of her name generated had put the spring back in his strut. He didn't sleep that night either, for the boyish excitement inside.

By the following evening, several hundred men were sporting orange blazes on their helmets, and the indoctrinated eye would recognize the white jagged stripes that swept down over their visors. The men had shined every inch of their armor, oiled and cleaned every gun, sharpened every blade. He allowed them to fight it out for their spots at review. A few black eyes were given over the choicest front row positions.

Then came the day of her arrival . General skywalker commed him for assembly. The men jogged to the meeting point, a large liaison space on the 3rd level. He had counted the length of his breaths carefully, willing himself to be calm and composed, as if this was really any other inspection. He was screaming inside. He felt like his stomach was trying to fall out of his ass.

The door chimed and slid open. And there she was. But she wasn't the girl he remembered. She seemed to have grown over the past year. Taller yes, he noted the distinct curve taking shape in her Montrails. Not just vertical growth either; she had expanded in all directions. Her hips were no longer angular, but smoothly bowed outward. Her waist tapered in and climbed upward to... what used to be pert little breasts - polite things that barely moved when she vaulted across the training mats. Now… well… they weren't polite anymore. In her absence Little'un had become a woman. How the hell did all this happen in a year?

 He called the men to attention, unable to suppress the absolute shit eating grin of joy that had plastered itself there. She had traded the skirts and tights of her padawan youth for the dignified garb of a warrior. Smart armored combat boots covered tight breeches, and disappeared under a slim fitting, high collared shirt which proved both modest and profoundly flattering at the same time. Having discarded her Akul tooth headdress when she left the temple, Ahsoka now wore a variety of tiara that looked like hand hammered durasteel. Numerous arm bands and leg holsters carried her various kit. Best of all, he noticed, she had outfitted herself almost entirely in the cobalt blue of the 501st. 

Ahsoka stepped towards him. Hesitantly, uncertain of her place in the scheme of things, her eyes searching his face for a cue. He was positively giddy at her approach, glad that his full body armour could dampen the sight of the tremors that ran through him. 

"Beautiful, fierce, brave girl… don't look at me like that. You'll always belong with us" he didn't say the words, they shone from his eyes. Her gaze landed on the helmet clutched in his hand, and he was certain they moistened as the orange and white design drove its message home. They were hers and she was theirs.

Moments later, things got complicated, as they were wont to do when Skywalker was involved. He had loaded about three thousand odd men on to another venator. Anakin had named him official CO of the 501st (could've done that a fucking year ago) and they left with their Lady. A jedi no longer, now only a civilian advisor. Whatever, she was still their angel.

Now, about 48 hours later, they had Maul's forces on the run, and had taken a few hours to regroup, gather sit-reps, and organize the city wide hunt for the criminal. His duties were tended for the moment so Rex had gone on the search, hungry to see her face again. He spied her by the transports, wearing her pride of possession, as she watched her Vod do what they did best. 

He jogged across the pavement and slowed to a swaggering stroll as he neared her. She beamed at him, blue eyes reflecting the city lights. 

"All right there, Lil?"

"Rex, this has gone off smoother than I had hoped. The citizens are disgusted, but at least things didn't de-evolve in to violence."

Gah, her voice! It was like a cool breeze on a shitty hot day.

She retreated a little way between the LAATs

and retrieved a canteen of water, drinking deeply. He took the opportunity to appreciate what nature had wrought upon the Togrutan. 

He couldn't pretend to be an expert on her race's anatomy, but he could definitely see that the physical changes in her had stopped being about adding physical size, and began to be about physical allure. The hard muscles of her youthful form had gained some softness via artistically placed plump cushions. Her rump… hips… bosom. Her face had exchanged youthful roundness for a pointed chin and angled jaw, and instead focused the fullness in to her plum colored lips. 

It wasn't until after the initial excitement of the reunion when they were en route to Mandalore that he could privately reflect upon her changes. As she bent over to adjust her boot straps he was certain the thirty or so Vod in the room must have heard his cock slam against his cod piece as he reacted to the sight of her peach shaped rear offered up like a feast before him. Since that moment he had remained at nothing less than half mast, his member ready and waiting for the off chance that he might need it, while his brain begged it to behave itself and not act a fool.. 

How the hell had he come to this? His sweet friend had become a veritable sex pot, her body shedding the trappings of youth and preparing her to recieve a male. The notion that had began to grow in his mind that night in his lonely bed so many months ago, had born fruit and ripened in that moment. 

He Loved her and not as a lad should love his dear friend.. He had pined away for months, struggling to function through the void created by her absence. Moments of privacy had tormented him either with loneliness for her presence or aching for her touch. Often his mind wandered too far in her direction and he was forced to take matters in to his own hands… well hand…. And release brought guilt as well as relief. 

When he closed the gap between them she offered the drink, and he happily chugged some just to taste her on the rim. He was so desperate, he thought. So fucking pathetic, but he couldn't help himself… and frankly didn't want to. As he regarded her, Ahsoka fidgeted nervously and her face fell, a mask of anxiety appearing. He knit his brow at the change, capping the canteen and setting it aside.

"Rex… I'm sorry."

He frowned. This was happening now, she was ready to explain to him her actions. In the middle of a mission. Fucking hell. He continued to watch her, his face calm and professional.

"Im sorry I didn't say goodbye. It was a shitty thing to do to you. It was cowardly and I was wrong, and I've regretted it every single day." Her sapphire gems stared in to his amber ones, searching them for his reply.

Rex sighed heavily. He had a few things to tell her, and he'd be damned if she was going to run away this time before he heard each and every one of them clearly. 

"Ahsoka…" he reached for her, and with only a little hesitation she snaked her arms around his waist and leaned against his armored chest. Resting her cheek near his pauldron.  He wrapped her up in his embrace and stole a moment to sniff deeply of her scent. Spice, and something herbal - like tea. Leather. And her own subtle musk, which reminded him of the sun warmed straw field he had walked through on Naboo. How he had missed that smell.

"I wont lie Lil. I hated you for about a week. When I got over that, I stayed pissed off for at least another month."

She trembled a little, her face hidden from view.

"Then, during my fifth week of insomnia and self loathing, I realized why I was so angry, and that it definitely wasn't because I hated you."

He tilted his head down, seeking her eyes, but she was still hiding them on his shoulder.

He nudged her lekk with his nose, gently demanding her attention. She shyly met his gaze, the blazing blue stars beginning to blur behind tears. Stop this at once Lil, you're not the crying type, and especially not over me. 

He dipped his face to hers, capturing her lips. She was rigid with shock for a moment, but then relaxed against his touch. He barely broke away, only to come back for a second helping, kissing her with more force in order to drive his message home. She tasted like honey, hints of cinnamon, and the poor quality caf they all survived off of on the Venators. The feel of her petal soft lips against his was enough to make his knees shake, and his heart pound, and, thinking back on every fantasy he had entertained about her, he would come to realize what a poor imagination he had. 

Pulling away, she dashed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. 

"The truth is that…  I didn't dare come to see you that day. I knew that it would upset you and I couldn't cope with that. I wouldn't have been able to go make myself leave, even though it was the right thing for me. Its ok that you hated me for a while.. I hated myself."

 She sucked in a shaky breath, regarding him silently for a moment as if she was trying to choose her next words carefully. Apparently, her voice had left her, so she framed his face with her sienna colored hands and returned to his kiss almost violently. He spanned her waist with his hands, pulling her closer to him, all the while cursing his protective armor that denied him the pressure of her firm body. 

"I wouldn't have let you go" he growled, biting at her lip for punctuation. With a breathy whimper she opened her mouth to his caress. He tasted her lips, and her tongue, twisting his head for a better angle. His gloved hands groped their way blindly up her back, and then back downward to her waist, one daring to sneak to her rump, palming the cheek boldly, but hell she could shatter his bones with her mind if she objected and he wouldn't be upset. She answered by chasing his tongue with hers, uttering a low moan of approval. 

Rex pushed her backward against the cold side of the transport, pinning her there with his bodyweight. His mind spun with surprise and delight that not only had she not broken his face, but was mouthing and pawing at him with equal desire. He sucked in a quick breath and claimed her mouth again, leading the charge with a velvet tongue. He was determined to display for her every ounce of frustration she had left him in for the past year. To convince her that she should not leave him again.

He nipped at her chin, scraped his teeth along her jawline, and caught a hitch in his breath as he tasted the salty skin at her neck. She rolled her head away, crooning gently, and he surprised himself at how quickly he one handed the top few frogs of her shirt. Bearing her neck down to the shoulder, he sucked and kissed at her offering, cherishing her closeness, his mind racing at the willingness with which she came to him. His right hand had found its way to her breast, caressing the sleek fabric covered mound and searching the telltale hardened peak he found there. She was arched backward over his opposite arm, her legs astride his armoured thigh, all the while he was inwardly cursing the confines of his pelvic armor; his member had sprung to full solute at the attentions of his Lady Commander. When she rolled her hips he dared to arch to his boot toe, giving her a hard surface to press herself against. 

She stiffened under his touch, suddenly going quiet and still. 

"Kriff." she whispered.

His eyes snapped open, alarmed by the sudden change in her demeanor.  He was about to speak when…

"OORAH! COMMANDER!"

A chorus of hoots and howls joined the first voice, and Rex dropped his forehead to Ahsoka's shoulder, hand still splayed across her chest, thigh pressed to her besh… his index finger tracing the crease of her perfect ass….

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jesse. Kriffing Jesse, and about fifty of his men. Standing there watching him grind on Ahsoka like they were a live action porn holo.

"Fuck my life" he growled in disgust. 

"GET SOME VOD! OWWWWW!!!" 

Dammit Jesse. 

The fondling hand shot to his hip and raised the blaster just in time for his head to snap up and choose his target. The bolt screamed by Jesse, missing his temple by the length of a finger. 

Wide eyed, he screamed and cackled and ducked, the other troops reacting similarly. 

Rex contemplated shooting them all, and was choosing his next target when….

"FUCKING JESSE! QUIT COCK BLOCKING ME, YOU STUPID PENIS WRINKLE!" Ahsoka roared at the clone, and with a violent sweep of her arm she flung the entire corps out of sight further down the plaza. Rex couldn't help but grin at the satisfying shouts of pain and the clatter of armored bodies bouncing on the cement. 

They both sighed as he returned his DC to its home, and met each other's gaze. 

"Is that what he was doing, Commander? Cock-blocking you?" He teased. 

Ahsoka's blue chevrons darkened in the Togrutan equivalent of a blush. 

"Im not your Commander, Rex, not GAR, nor am I a Jedi. I'd prefer if you'd address me properly." 

"And how's that?" He cocked his head, smirking at her. 

"Anything but. You decide, cyare." 

She pushed her forehead against his. He flushed from the thrill. She had used his "native" tongue, never before had anyone called him "beloved", and the forehead "kiss" was a touch of the purest loving affection among Vod.

"Do you mean that? "Cyare"? Rex's head was spinning. The delicious heavy petting could have allowed him to die happily, but she had done something far more wonderful to him. Cyare was not a name for a piece of meat used to scratch an itch with.. did she understand that? "Are you sure, Lil?"

"Yes, I mean that. I want you, Rex. I think I have for a long time, but I was afraid to call it what it was. I didn't think you'd ever look at me the same way."

"What? Why wouldn't I?"

"Because your a grown man!... Who happens to be younger than me… and I've always just been this idiot kid." She frowned, the dusky colored pout did terrible things to him. 

"I don't think you've been a kid for a while now Sokka." To emphasize his statement, he kissed her like she was a woman. His woman. "What happens…" he didn't know if he dared to hope… "What will you do after we are done here?"

"I haven't really thought about it. I guess it depends on our success." 

They heard shouts. Troopers were gathering on the plaza, getting ready to depart for their search. 

"Than let's find the hut'uun quickly." 

He gave her a final kiss and a squeeze, and backed away step by step until her hand dropped away. 

[miraculouscontent]

Ask Explosion #6

Asks answering previous posts:

Oh, okay! I’m glad, thank you!

(the post this anon is referring to)

Ohhhh.

And fjbgjnfkjgfg thanks >////<

I don’t think there’s much wrong with liking the design itself; I prefer Riposte personally, but that’s just me.

The best way I could put the “insensitive” part (I’m sort of dumb when it comes to this stuff and I talked about it before when I was working on that 3D model of Marinette) is that it’s so heavy on Japanese. I mean, they already have Kagami constantly wear what looks like a school uniform and Tomoe is just like--super heavy Japanese. It’s like the show doesn’t know how to balance “can’t tell at all” (with Marinette) and then “okay this is WAY strong” (with Kagami+Tomoe+Kung Food).

That makes sense! I guess the only problem then would be that the kwami can’t really act as mentors of any kind because “you’re saying this just because that’s all you can say” (like Sass, hypothetically, always willing to give someone a second chance, no matter what; I know that’s not what his power specifically entails but it’s just an example).

I would however definitely lean towards kwami being very strict in one alignment, so Tikki would always be on the path of pure good and thus never want to take/steal/whatever, whereas Plagg is always on the path of “bad,” but there are times where Marinette will have to ignore Tikki while Adrien will have to listen to Plagg.

And yeah, the guardians existing and the kwami not having so much control... not a huge fan.

Someone asked about Chat Noir’s flirting and he claimed that it was “on purpose” (you know, while throwing episodes like “Felix” at us but okay) and then he followed up with this:

There was also this other comment he made a while back when someone tried to make a suggestion to him:

Except he’s missing the point completely. When he talks about constructive criticism, he acts like it doesn’t matter, especially not anymore now that they’re working on Seasons 4 and 5:

(I mean, personally, I don’t think I need “engineering knowledge” to know when a rollercoaster I’d ridden nearly tossed the cart off the tracks and had questionable design decisions, but you do you, Astruc.)

Yes, constructive criticism is mainly for seeing a product improve, but that doesn’t mean ignoring it because, “well you haven’t seen the full product.”

“Animaestro” even has a bit of commentary on it:

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Chat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

(firstly, of course Chat Noir bows to Astruc on that one because he’s Astruc’s sunshine boy, ugh)

Ignoring the fact that a movie/printed book is usually a “full product,” criticism is also to say “you did this thing wrong, don’t do this in the future.” It doesn’t have to be referring strictly to the show. It’s just, “you did this thing wrong and here’s why, try to catch yourself if you accidentally do it again in the future, whether in what you’re working on now or otherwise.”

(He’s also talked about “unsolicited critique” before and I don’t know what that means? Like, dude, this isn’t someone’s fanfiction where I’d actually agree that you can’t go after them for their work. This is professional work.)

Anyway, remember “Chameleon”? When everyone saw the trailer and absolutely flipped out over it, then there were people who were like, “Wait for the full episode!!”?

Guess what? The full episode came out and people were either just as mad or even madder than before.

Astruc wants to have his cake and eat it to. He wants to say that his episodes are “stand-alone,” and that the order isn’t that important, but when people start pointing out issues, it becomes, “No! You have to wait for the rest of the episodes to come out!” and when people do that, it’s gonna be like, “Well, we already did the whole show so it’s not like I can change anything. *shrug*”

Also, just blaming it on “the industry” when everything else has been exhausted:

(He’s literally brought up before that the New York special was meant to have subplots about other characters, so it’s not like he can never say anything when something didn’t fit the “original vision”; I’m not asking him to get on his knees and say he’s sorry - plus, I do recognize that a lot of influence comes from the industry and people like Jeremy - but I expect a little more than the “whoops” he gave when people pointed out that “Weredad” contradicted his statement on Miraculous Ladybug.)

I think the reason people see it the way they do is because of Fu’s line in “Robostus” seems to imply the exact opposite thing happening.

Master Fu: Universe must always stay in balance. For every action, there is a reaction. For every wish, a price to pay in return. Had your robotic friend asked to become a real boy, someone would have lost his humanity in return.

New Asks:

Marigami is acceptable. I’m not crazy about it but it’s likable enough.

Lukadrien though... no, absolutely not. On a conceptual level, because it’s such a slap in the face for Marinette, and on a fanon level, because most of the jokes around it is Luka going to Marinette like he’s about to ask her out and then just asks for Adrien’s details. It’s just... ugh. I hate it (throwing Marinette into the ship still doesn’t help for me though because I’m not into the love square).

Bi erasure is my least favorite thing.

And yeah, it’s like--they set the love square ship(s?) out onto the water, then the Lukanette ship later with the plan to either sink it or just kinda... return it to the harbor if they don’t make a huge fuss about it?

Meanwhile, the love square ship has been in piece this whole time, and instead of letting it sink, they put it on a raft to keep it floating.

Depends.

In LadyBugOut? It’s already written and I haven’t posted it.

For canon? Like, Marinette being super disappointed at her view of Adrien being shattered or? :P

That’s accurate. I dislike about a fourth-ish of Season 1,then about half-ish of Season 2, then like... almost all of Season 3.

So we’ll just have to see what happens in Season 4.

I like Adrimi, but I’m not crazy about it and I don’t really write for it unless Lukanette is already the main ship (making Adrimi just a background ship). Adrien tends to dismiss Kagami a lot (like in “Frozer” and then “Miracle Queen” with him not committing) and I don’t want to see Kagami hurting like that (I agree with the anon completely that Adrien is more at fault than she is). They’re both emotionally-stunted so I usually have them wait it out or something to have them get together.

My ideal endgame is Lukanette while Adrimi is more like “let’s wait, let’s work on ourselves (especially Adrien; Kagami at least has on firm crush and wants to commit to it), and we’ll see where we go down the line.”

I don’t know if they really have the guts to arrest Gabriel. I also think that Lila might pick up the butterfly at the end of Season 5 or something after she’s been “dealt with.”

Chloe also is the mayor’s daughter so even if the law was that strict on teens, nothing would happen to her unless Andre got replaced.

Big yikes.

Maybe that the thing forcing Marinette away from Adrien and causing things to go wrong is the part of the curse trying to prevent the ladybug and cat miraculous from coming together?

So, close enough to be attracted and want to work together, but forcing the ladybug away from the cat to prevent the miraculouses from being used to make a wish?

I CHOKED ON MY DRINK.

ugh

ugh

ugggggggh

I’m 100% sure that Marinette wouldn’t be as uncomfortable around Adrien if Alya hadn’t constantly intervened. She’s the enabler of both Marinette’s anxiety and her crush on Adrien.

I went back and looked at the scene and it does kinda look like it, yes, because it basically goes from the intersection Marinette is in to another intersection that looks very, extremely similar and I don’t see Marinette in that intersection.

It was just a really, really bad transition. I remember being thrown off for a second too so I don’t blame you, anon.

I think Bob Roth’s intent was to scare Marinette away from showing that proof? He probably knows very well that Marinette has all the evidence she needs to make a case and already had a story planned for the press about how “the young talents they found didn’t measure up and the people deserved better.”

He just needed enough pressure on them for them to believe that he had enough authority to silence them.

And then Silencer tried to silence him instead. :3

I don’t think Marinette’s relationship with her parents would change too much. Like, they already let her just go out whenever she wants which obviously Plagg approves off, although Marinette might become more numb to the idea of being grounded because Plagg just teaches her, “hey lol Ladybug isn’t grounded tho,” so Marinette sneaks out all the time.

Yeah, Tikki would probably justify Gabriel’s behavior, and she wouldn’t really be able to get on his case for flirting as Mister Bug because she’s not aware of it.

lol it helps no one to have Tikki I guess.

Adrien overall and then honorable mention to Alya for Winny’s comment about her being Marinette’s conscience (which is probably why they almost never nail Alya for stuff she does).

KHNJFDNGFD THE LUKANETTE QUEEN MONIKER RETURNS >///<

And ugh, the absolute level of bias in that. Even if the video was made in, like, Season 2 (don’t know, didn’t see it), Season 2 still gives examples of why Adrienette isn’t making Marinette happy at all (and has some of the love square failings too).

The name and the fact that they gave it that name tells me everything I need to know.

Goodness gracious.

Yeah, people can talk about character’s flaws. I mean, we talk a lot here about Marinette’s struggles in getting over Adrien (partly brought on by a lot of outside factors but still).

Also, sure, Luka is a “pushover” because he’s one of the few characters who understands Marinette’s tunnel vision and isn’t bothered by it, okay. :P (Interesting that the topic of Chat’s entitlement towards Ladybug but Luka respecting her choices and just enjoying being around her makes him her punching bag).

Every time I hear, “Adrien needs more spotlight!!!” I lose a part of my soul. How people can’t see that Marinette is the show’s true punching bag is beyond me.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Those Shoes (Ch.1)

Notes: The title is referenced to a song by The Eagles, it’s a classic song about exotic dancers, as well as a popular song to play in the clubs. Rita, or @youtubequeens and I brainstormed this piece, and I was so excited to finally write it :3

Warnings: Language, Exotic Dancers and their life, talk about sex, Trigger Warnings!!!: Mentions of and non-consensual acts such as groping and touching, and other horrors.  

Notice: Dancers should be treated with respect, and this is not a fic to downgrade them, nor to spread false truths. It sheds light on what can and does happen in real life, and how that it can be a dangerous job. The warnings are here for a reason. Thank You.

 “Honey, I neeeeed your help!” Your mother whined through the phone. You sighed loudly as you sat on the bed. You’ve just finished with a hefty amount of homework, two tests, and you had another coming up, soon. Not only were your friends squealing that they need to celebrate your upcoming graduation, but your mother had called you, needing something. Again.

“Before you hang up!” She started as your thumb hovered over the red button. “I know that you’ll be graduating college, soon, and you’re needing a job, asap, sooooo, I was wondering if I could hire you, soon?” She baited, and you felt a chill of dread down your spine.

“No way in hell.”

“Oh, Come on! You know that you’ll need a job! I can’t find decent hire, anywhere. How about I hire you until you find a better job? Please? These outfits need to be patched up, and I need makeup expertise! Other than my own!” She added.

You felt your stubborn nature wilt as common sense pile drove in. Your mother was a crafty, sneaky, snake, and she knew that you were needing money to make end’s meet, especially when you were about to move to a better apartment. There were good businesses waiting to hire, and some even were willing to sponsor you, but of course it could take months until you could officially land a good job.

Unfortunately, your mother knew this.

“Above minimum wage, and I get to wear what I want.”

“Deal.” She didn’t even hesitate.

“Fine. I’ve got tests…and the girls are throwing me a surprise party, of all things at the end of the month, so I’ll see you when I see you.” You breathed out, and your mom giggled.

“Oh, a surprise party? Maybe I could send-”

“Mom, no.” You blurted out, and she laughed.

“Oh, my baby girl!” She cooed. “You don’t need physical experience to enjoy-”

You clicked the red dial, ending the call as you sighed with defeat. How did your life turn out like this?  More than likely, she’ll gather your small group of friends and convince them to try to get you to loosen up. It was not only your graduation day, but also your birthday, coming up.

 Your mind froze with fear at the memories of past birthdays. After you’ve turned eighteen, she tried multiple times to send out one of the male dancers, scantily dressed in an ice cream sundae uniform, holding a card that basically said “to pop your cherry”.    

Yeah, you didn’t really had any contact with her, really.

…………………

“Surprise! Happy Graduation and Birthday, Girl!” Your friends screamed with joy as you entered your apartment. Finally. After years of hard work and several job offers that will get back to you within a month, you were a certified beautician with a knack to patch and design clothes. Sure, it wasn’t your first idea of a job, but it grew on you. Dying hair, painting nails, mastering different techniques of applying makeup, and seeing the sparkly eyes of your patients as they admired your hard work, had won you over.

Of course, your mother had a major influence over you. Although you weren’t into dancing, you were happy to practice makeup and help patch up certain outfits. As you grew older, you went with what you knew, and soon, your school had paid for your college due to your good grades, and you made your way up, ever since.

“Oh hey, girls! Where’s the cake?” You wondered, and they wasted no time with mischievous giggles. You stilled.

“What-”

“Don’t worry, Babe! It’ll be here, soon. Try this cucumber Sake!” Rumi grinned as she held out the small cup. The white-haired woman had been your friend since late high school, the only one knowing about your mother’s business back then. She and your other friend, Keigo, had now opened up a pet store. Said man who had bird-like perception wasn’t here, right now, but your more…flirtatious friend, Nemuri, was here with her girlfriend and your attention-seeking friend, Yu. Both girls had worked for your mother, and although you were close, you were weary of their similar antics.

“You’re hiding something.” Your eyebrows furrowed. Nemuri smiled coyly as she slung an arm around a giggling Yu.

“It wouldn’t be called a surprise if we weren’t.”  

“True.”

The four of you had cut up and were laid back, enjoying small talk and stories that you all missed out on. Nemuri and Yu were doing great with the future wedding funds, Rumi had admitted that Keigo was trying his best to win over some goth from Hot Topic, and you, well, you were still doing the things that you loved to do, despite a busy schedule. Rumi smiled, knowing fully well that your more secretive hobbies had leaned towards being more humanitarian, despite your busy schedule.

You wanted to do things that you wanted to do, not gain attention from them, yet your close group of friends had known of your little skits: Feeding not only stray cats, but taking time to volunteer to help with the homeless and the orphanage. The conversation had quickly turned to about working at the strip club, and you were relieved that the subject had changed.

“Ugh. I hate it when they get up. They’re suppose to sit, and be obedient.” Nemuri huffed.

“Isn’t that against the regulations?” You wondered, and Yu nodded.

“Yeah. I heard that one girl in the private room was far into her dancing, she didn’t notice the guy standing up. Luckily there’s cameras, and so when the staff noticed that he pulled his dick out, they broke into the room and threw him out. Hah, he didn’t get his cash back or anything.” She finished, and you couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

You weren’t raised in the club, but your mother had told you plenty of stories, and dropped off the outfits or brought home a “dummy” to practice makeup on while she told you to never let your guard down. It wasn’t until you were nineteen when you fully knew what she had meant as you were working as a hostess at her building.

Although you were dressed in bartender clothes, it didn’t stop anybody from trying to make a grab at you. You were lucky that your mother had hired good bouncers, and she herself was like a tiger who prowled upon those who didn’t belong there.  

“That’s awful.” You admitted, and Nemuri nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. It’s especially gross when you’re giving them a lap dance, and you feel something gross and sticky on the back of your thigh.”

“Or when they kept saying that ‘you’re too pretty to work here’. I know I’m pretty, and I want the attention and attraction to work here. Just because I dance, doesn’t mean that I’m easy. I’m in a committed relationship for six years, thank you.” Yu bantered back while Rumi and you listened quietly.

“You girls go through a lot. Damn. Poor birthday girl had to wear a miniskirt while handing out food and drinks.” Rumi piped up, offering to say what she knew about the subject. Nemuri sighed.

“I remember that when Yu and I first started. Her mom’s not too picky when it comes to help, especially when it’s low pay and her own kid. Like a lamb in a den full of lions, I tell you. Luckily our ladies and gents knew how to swoop in to the rescue.” She finished, and you felt yourself blushing.

Everyone jumped as the doorbell rang, and you watched the Grinch-like grins spread on Nemuri and Yu’s faces, as Rumi let out one that was almost feral.

“Cake’s here.” They said, and you couldn’t help but feel a case of dread as Nemuri didn’t hesitate to waltz over there, and sling the door open, and you couldn’t help but to swallow thickly.

“You did not.” It was a whisper that died on your throat.

Of course you should have known. Of all things-

 He stood in the middle of the door, holding a prettily frosted cake, but it wasn’t the cake that caught your attention.

 Tall, blond, muscles, was sporting thin square glasses that were about to fall off of his nose, a sleeveless white vest with a loosened tie and one button undone. His pants were no better, the zipper and buttons were undone as it snagged nicely on his hips, leaving a blond treasure trail for the world to see, and of course, sleek black and orange high heels that looked as if they cost more than your rent.  

“I’m here to teach our Birthday Girl a lil’ lesson.” Came out the smooth purr as he twirled a red sucker in his mouth, and damn it did that not help you. You hated to admit it, but he was the handsomest ones that you’ve ever seen, and of course you knew who sent him. Pretty amber irises stared at you, drinking you thoroughly as if he was silently contemplating something.  

“Name’s Fatigue, Sugar.” He grinned, lolling the sucker within his mouth as Nemuri took the cake from his hands and set it down on your living room table.  

“Don’t work our girl too hard, Tai. Poor thing gets a little flustered, easily.” She giggled, pinching your cheek rather playfully. You gave her a small glare despite that your ears were burning, now. Tai, or “Fatigue”, let a slow, lazy smile stretch his face as he looked down at you with a cocky look mixed with hunger.

“Jus’ sit back an’ relax, ‘nd enjoy the show. You deserve it for workin’ so hard.”  He cooed with what seemed to be affection, and you swallowed thickly and nodded. Sure, you could do this. Giving an affirmative, he didn’t give you much time before he took out his phone and pressed some button, instantly music had started playing as he started.

He was like a magnet, snapping your attention to him in awe as he spread his legs wide, letting himself sink low to the floor, heels perfectly grounded into your carpet as his glasses stayed neatly perched on the crook of his nose. He grinned at your amazed stare, as if eating it up. Of course he had a bag full of tricks, and you couldn’t believe that you were finding yourself eager to know each one.

He didn’t fail to deliver, hopping back up with a dive of his hips, sliding a hand down to the side of his pants, palming his thigh as he bent low, ass in the air. Each movement was in sync with the beats, and was absolutely filthy as he used his body to curve and twist into movements that oddly made you feel hot and your throat dry. Who was he? Where did your mom even find somebody this good?

Your friends were no better. Rumi had sported a look of stupor, and to your own surprise, Nemuri and Yu looked impressed, a rare sight for you knew that their technique was high dollar and quality, too.

He was all over you, not touching, but close, not letting you take your attention away from him as he ran his hands close to his hips and inner thighs, his sharp focus was only on you as he gauged your reactions, seeing which little movements brought a spark to your eyes or a flush to your face.

Then, like his routine, he did another unexpected move. Taking your cake, he set it neatly on your lap. Not giving you time to really question anything, he gingerly took your hand, dipping your fingers into the frosting, and brought it to his mouth.

Hot. You couldn’t help but feel hot all over as your lips burned on how he licked and sucked at the frosted digits, lolling his tongue over each one as he gave you such a dirty, heated look, and you swore that you heard him groan. Or was it you? You couldn’t tell as he gave your digits one final suck, letting go with a wet pop as the last song ended.

“Delicious.” He purred, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip at how he sounded it.

“Holy shit.” Nemuri broke the silence.

“Language, young Missy.” Fatigue tutted, waving his finger at her, laughing lightly as she gave him one of her own, before turning his attention back to you.

“Didja enjoy the dance, Sweetling?”

“Yeah.” You admitted in  choked voice, and he gave a small laugh of affection as he walked towards the door.

“You have a Happy Birthday. I do hope that I can see ya, again.” He gave one last final look at you that you couldn’t decipher, as he headed out.

Silence enveloped you girls, before Yu started laughing.

“You were so blushing! He looked as if he wanted to eat you up!” She noticed, and you could feel your lip starting to hurt from biting it constantly.

“Woah, did he even know that you’re the boss’s kid?” Rumi asked, and Nemuri shook her head.

“Nah. We hired him yesterday, and her mom didn’t say anything, other than that she had a very special job for him. Heh, I didn’t know that the new meat was this good.” Nemuri explained, staring at her nails.

“’I do hope that I can see ya, again’.” Yu mimicked before giggling with glee. “Somebody’s has taken a shine to our homebody.” She grinned and your face flushed with realization.

“I gotta go see my mom.” You blurted out, instead, and was rewarded with grins and knowing smirks.

“It’s so cute how you’ve finally began to open up, my little touch-starved Chickadee. A stripper, of all things, huh?” Nemuri laughed at the irony, and you couldn’t help but join.

“I guess that it’s time to admit that I don’t have to live my life as the Lone Wolf, anymore.”

“And finally get laid, right?” Yu said it ever so casually, and you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, leave her alone. It’s nice that those brick walls are falling down.” Rumi grinned, slinging an arm around you and you smiled.

“It’s getting late, ladies. I got to see my mom early, tomorrow. Before you leave, take some cake with you.” You admitted.

“Will do! I’ll tell her that the new guy had done the impossible, by gaining your heated stare.” Yu giggled as she wrapped an arm around Nemuri’s waist.

“Hah, Kei’s gonna have a laugh at this.” Rumi smiled as she got up, leaving for your kitchen to grab the plates and forks.

….………….

After cake was cut and eaten, and the girls hugged you and kissed your cheeks before heading out, you were now laying on your bed, face flushing furiously as your heartbeat quickened. A stripper of all things shouldn’t have done that to you. You grew up with your mom’s flirty attitude towards strangers, and from an older teen, had been working in the club in a vest, shirt, and miniskirt with low heels, being constantly flirted with.

You didn’t know what made him to be so different, but like a magnetic connection, you were pulled, and despite you loner, homebody attitude, you kind of did wanted to see more of him.

…………..

He sighed, slipping off the expensive shoes as his feet and body ached for a hot shower. She didn’t know him, but he knew somewhat about her. Although the two of them shared the same college, he’d never shared a class with her, and she had lived in the apartments that was near, but not the dorms. Yet, he seen her almost everyday while either to or from his way to classes, work, or in general.

She tried to hide it, but he knew of the little empty cans of tuna near the dumpster that kept the stray mother cat and her kittens fed, was from her. He could hear her cooing to this day, smile rivaling the sun, as she looked down at the bunch with a touch of softness, not noticing the world around her as he took the same route past the alley every day.

 Of course, he was a little intrigued. He had a sweet tooth, and despite his refusal in ever taking a bite, he wanted to drink in on what this strange woman was doing. He knew that she was busy, if the bags underneath her eyes indicated anything, and yet she still took time to do small and big things. Picking up littered cans and tossing them in the recycling bin, helping struggling students study, and he’d even seen her face at the soup kitchens, pouring generous amounts of soup into the bowls which were held in the hands of the hungry.  

All around. She was all around and yet tried to make herself small and trivial. Others didn’t really notice, but he did. He couldn’t help it. Like a little magnet, she pulled him in, and she was unaware of it. Honestly, he felt like a stalker, yet he knew that he wasn’t. She was just…all around. Existing, helping, laughing, and smiling. It cut through a crack in his dark little world.

Of course, then she graduated, and he was surprised on how much he had missed her laughter, the softness in her eyes as she handled the kittens or gave out food. He didn’t know her. Didn’t speak to her, never went to the same classes, and yet, he felt a little empty when she was gone. It boggled and irritated him.

The literal icing on top was when he had finally gotten hired, the smirking woman telling him that he had a special job, and he couldn’t help but look in surprise at the address. The same door number that he seen her excitedly rush out from while he was on his way to class, was written on the address sheet with instructions. He had already met her friends, who were surprising her on her birthday. To be honest, he was surprised that the woman had friends such as Nemuri and Yu, but he didn’t question it further, as he felt the excitement build up.

Then, he couldn’t help himself when the two of them had finally met. He suppressed a shiver. He had a no touching rule. He didn’t want to touch, and he didn’t want to be touched, but something broke in him. He wanted to be touched by those shy inquisitive fingers, wanted to be stared at so innocently, and yet so dirty, and he couldn’t help himself. She was so sweet, and he didn’t mind letting himself having a taste, for once.

He really did hope to see her again

…………  

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (19/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~7400 words, teen

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked hard, thinking his exhaustion had caught up with him. No, the blonde woman on his porch had to be the night-shift nurse who lived across the street—she often liked to indulge in late-night baking on her nights off, and there were times she would come to James for an ingredient she was missing, or to give him a small sampling of her confectionery creations.

(He had the sudden, jarring, embarrassing realization that she may have been flirting with him the whole time… Is that why she hasn’t come around in months?)

“Rose,” he said again when blinking stupidly for at least ten seconds didn’t transform Rose into anyone else.

“Hi,” she said quietly. She looked exhausted; there were prominent shadows beneath her eyes and her shoulders drooped like a heavy weight sat upon them.

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, and her face fell. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you had company. I’ll just…” She thumbed behind herself to the dark road. How did she get here? “Sorry.”

Before he could protest, Jack clapped James on the shoulder and announced, “No, no. I was getting ready to head out. Come on, get in out of the cold.”

Jack pressed a smacking kiss to James’s cheek, then muttered, “Talk to her,” into his ear. He then stepped forward and gave Rose a loose hug and kiss on the cheek before he walked to his vehicle that was parked on the side of the street.

They turned to watch Jack start his car and drive off into the night. James looked at Rose, then at the squarish plastic Tupperware container she held. She was absently flicking her thumb nail across the tab on the lid.

“What’ve you got there?” he asked, nodding to the container.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Well. We’ve been playing a game all month, haven’t we? Time to celebrate.”

She popped the lid off the container and handed it to him. In it were half a dozen large, muffin-sized chocolate cupcakes, frosted in vanilla icing and decorated with pink and yellow star sprinkles. The words “Happy Birthday” were written in small, neat, glossy red letters across each cupcake. His stomach sank.

“It… it’s your birthday?” he croaked. Of course—of fucking course—today had been her birthday.

Rose nodded. “I… I didn’t want to let my entire birthday pass without spending some time with my favorite person.���

James nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hope you had fun.”

Rose raised an incredulous eyebrow, and the penny dropped.

“Me?” he squeaked, the knot in his chest loosening.

“Yes you, you numpty. Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. Do you not love me anymore because we fought?”

James’s knees weakened at the ‘l’ word. He took a step towards her, the arm not holding the cupcakes extended. Her face softened and she stepped into his proffered embrace. Her body was warm and solid against him. Heat prickled behind his eyes as he wrapped his arms as tightly around her as he could without upending the Tupperware container.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry. I…”

“Can we not do this on the front porch?” she asked, voice muffled. “S’cold.”

James was loath to let go of her, but he had to agree the night was getting frigid, especially for him, with his bare feet and thin pajama bottoms and t-shirt. With a sigh, he gave her a final squeeze and dropped his arms from around her waist, then stepped back to usher her into his home.

She toed off her shoes by the front door, and he could already predict her questions when she angled her head towards the hallway. “Did you paint something?”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Er. Yeah. Started repainting my bedroom.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the side of Rose’s mouth. “Needed something to keep your mind busy?”

“Something like that,” he admitted.

A more genuine smile crossed her face as she gestured to the Tupperware container he was holding. “Y’know, stress baking would've been cheaper.”

James blinked, then gaped down at the cupcakes he was holding. The font of the words was perfect cursive, the spread of the icing uniform and even. He blurted, “You made these?”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” she drawled. “Yes, I made them. Well. Elsa helped. She came over to my flat this afternoon. Bit of a girl’s night. Had pizza and wine, then made cupcakes. She’s actually really good at decorating; she’s got this whole set of frosting tips to make fancy designs. She did the lettering.”

“They look lovely. Very professional,” he said. He jutted his head to his kitchen, motioning for her to follow. She did, her quiet, shuffling footsteps falling into rhythm with his.

Rather than go into the kitchen, Rose peeled off to the living room, where Merry and Pippin were lounging on the sofa together, half-asleep. James watched her squat down in front of the cats and give them a bit of love before she returned to him.

“Should Jack have driven himself home?”

James glanced at Rose and saw her pointing to the kitchen table, where the mostly-empty bottle of wine sat. It had a few mouthfuls left.

“It was only half-full when we started,” James answered, picking up the bottle and hurriedly drinking the last of the wine. “This was from last weekend, when you and I… Anyway, he had one glass. I drank most of it. He should be fine.”

“Tell him to let us know when he gets home safely,” Rose said.

James snapped off a lazy salute then sent Jack a text, passing along Rose’s request. He set the Tupperware container of cupcakes on the counter before grabbing two clean bowls from the dishwasher he hadn’t bothered to empty.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t,” Rose said with a grimace. “I already had one after they came out of the oven. Plus pizza. M’gonna puff up like a balloon.”

She pinched her waist, and James frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flamed pink and she dropped her hand limply to her side. 

“I had a huge, greasy burger and chips for dinner. D’you think I’m gonna puff up like a balloon?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, no. But you’re…” She let her sentence dangle as she waved her hand vaguely up and down his body. 

“And you’re…” He mirrored her gesture. “Rose, I find you absolutely beautiful, and you losing or gaining weight won’t change my opinion. Not that my opinion should matter. If you don’t want a cupcake, or if you’re not hungry, that’s fine. And again, not that you need my approval.”

Rose sighed and twisted her hands in front of herself before she turned away from him and rooted in his freezer for ice cream he always made sure to have on hand.

“I had a minor eating disorder as a teen,” Rose said quietly, pulling out the ice cream and shutting the freezer. “Nothing too serious. I was obsessed with my weight, and was really careful with what I ate. I counted and logged calories. I grew out of it when I realized watching what I ate made me feel even worse about myself. Of course I still tried to eat healthy and to eat reasonably-sized portions, but I stopped being so strict with it. I obviously started putting on some weight, nothing too drastic, but Jimmy would often tease me and tell me to lay off the chips or whatever, because rock stars don’t date chubby girls.”

James’s ears were ringing with rage and heartbreak, and he was furious with himself for everything he had accused Rose of last night regarding Jimmy.

“Rose, I…”

“As I said, I’m fine now and I don’t really care about my weight or body image as much,” Rose interrupted, setting the ice cream on the counter in front of him. “But sometimes those thoughts pop up without me realizing it. Like they did just now.”

Unsure of how to respond, James instead took a cupcake out of the Tupperware container, unwrapped the paper from the bottom, and set it into the bowl. “Did I… did I say something wrong?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. You told me your opinion, but didn’t shove it in my face or try to force me to believe you. And like I said, I don’t often realize when I’m having these thoughts.”

He nodded and forced his lips into some semblance of a smile that he hoped looked supportive. He then returned his gaze to the bowl and the ice cream she’d retrieved.

“D’you want to share this with me?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl with a spoon.

Rose nodded. He scooped several large dollops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl then he went to his junk drawer. It overflowed with a random assortment of objects: scissors, several different types of batteries, notepads, pens, pencils, a ruler, a screwdriver, tape, glue, Band-Aids, rubber bands, paper clips, binder clips, thumbtacks, toothpicks, a ball of twine, a condom, a tampon, and so many other things James didn't remember throwing into the drawer.

He dug through the mishmash of objects until he found a small, half-empty box of birthday candles and a matchbook. He took out four candles and brought them and the matches over to where Rose stood at the counter.

“I would try to shove twenty-two of them into the cupcake, but firstly I don’t have twenty-two candles, and secondly, I’m pretty sure I would end up pulverizing the poor cupcake into a pile of crumbs. So use your imagination; two and two equates to twenty-two.”

He shoved two of the candles side by side into the left side of the cupcake, right before the H and B in “Happy Birthday”. The other two, he stuck into the right side of the cupcake, behind both Ys. Striking the match, he ignored the shaking in his hands as he lit the candles. He then promptly blew out the match and dropped it into the water-filled wine glass in the sink to let it stop smoking. However, Rose must have seen the tremor in his hands, because she reached over and threaded their fingers together.

“I don’t like fire,” he admitted. “For obvious reasons.”

“You didn’t have to light the candles then,” Rose said gently.

“Pfff. It’s your birthday. Can’t have a birthday without blowing out some candles. How else will you get a free wish?”

Rose cracked a small smile and squeezed his fingers. She leaned forward as though she were about to blow out her candles. James cried, “Wait!”

She pulled back with a start.

“It’s your twenty-second birthday. I would think you would remember how this goes by now,” he drawled. He then sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Ro-ooose. Happy Birthday to youuuuu.”

She was grinning by the end of it, especially when he intentionally sang off-key for the sole purpose of making her smile. He’d made her cry too much in the last twenty-four hours; a smile from her was a welcome sight.

“Right. Those candles are all charged up with birthday magic. Now you can make a wish and blow,” he said, bowing and gesturing to her cupcake.

Rolling her eyes at him, Rose closed her eyes and paused for about five seconds, before she blew out a short breath, extinguishing the candles with ease. He applauded her effort, then yanked the candles out of the cupcake and extended two of them to her. They licked off the cake crumbs and icing—cream cheese, he noted with delight—then dropped them into the trash.

“Let’s eat this before all the ice cream melts,” James said, gesturing to the table. “Want anything to drink? More wine?”

“Just water.”

He grabbed two glasses from the dishwasher and filled them with water from the pitcher in the fridge before plopping down at the table beside Rose. He noticed his phone had a new text notification; Jack had replied, letting him know he was home. James relayed the news to Rose, then gestured for her to take the first bite of her birthday cupcake.

For several long minutes, they sat silently together, trading off bites of cupcake and ice cream until the bowl was empty. 

“That was very good,” he praised, swiping his finger through the melted mess of ice cream and chocolate crumbs on the bottom of the bowl and licking the digit clean.

“Thanks. Elsa loves to bake but doesn't get the chance to do it as often as she likes because she lives in the dorms on campus.” Rose ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “When I invited her over to my flat, she said stress baking was a requirement. She didn’t know it was my birthday until we started decorating the cupcakes.”

“Do you have an aversion to people knowing it’s your birthday?”

She snorted. “No. But it just… it didn’t feel right to celebrate. Not when we’d…” She trailed off with a shrug. “All month I’d been looking forward to finally telling you it was my birthday. It didn’t feel right to tell anyone about my birthday if I couldn’t tell you.”

“I really buggered your birthday,” he sighed, chest tightening.

“Nah.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, well, yeah. But it wasn’t just you. I didn’t help. I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate my birthday today, so I kept it to myself. Anyways. Elsa knocked a bit of sense into me this afternoon. Helped put some things into better perspective.”

“I’m glad you have a friend like that to share things with,” he said.

Rose hummed in agreement. “She also called me out for being an idiot.”

James snorted. “Jack did much the same for me.” He paused, fidgeting uncomfortably for a few seconds before he blurted, “I am so sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry for snooping through your mail and reading that letter, and I’m so sorry for jumping to a conclusion that was absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry for accusing you of not trusting me. I’m sorry I twisted the situation and your words and actions to put the blame all on you. I’m sorry I let my own insecurities warp my perceptions of you and our relationship, and I’m so, so sorry for ever insinuating that you would want to go back to Jimmy.”

Rose was dead silent. When James chanced a peek over at her, he was horrified to see tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and they fell down her cheeks.

Sniffling, she wiped at them and whispered, “That really hurt. I thought I had told you enough about Jimmy to show you he wasn’t a nice person to be in a relationship with. And I thought…” 

“You did,” James interrupted fervently. “You did Rose. You were absolutely correct in saying I had selective memory. You told me more about him than I realized. I was too caught up in my own head last night to remember everything you’d said. I’m so sorry about that.”

Rose waved him off. “Forget Jimmy for a minute. Even if he wasn’t a wanker… It hurt that you would think I would be tempted into a new relationship with someone else when we’ve been so happy together. At least, I’ve been happy.”

“I’ve been happy, too,” James said. He covered her hand with his. “I swear, Rose. I’ve been so happy with you.”

He wished he had better answers for her. He wished he could explain what had triggered him last night, explain how his brain had disregarded nearly seven months of a friendship and four months of a relationship stronger than he’d ever had before. Why had he thought Rose would be tempted by an ex-boyfriend who had treated her so horribly? Why did he have the anxiety that Rose would see through his facade and realize he wasn’t as exciting as she’d thought? Why was he so fearful she would leave?

Because everyone leaves.

The realization crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave, pushing his head beneath the water until he could barely breathe. He was drowning, fighting a losing battle against the current, about to be swept away into the sea when he was thrown a lifeline.

Rose squeezed his fingers hard, grounding him, pulling him back to the moment. His chest was tight and tears blurred his vision.

Everyone leaves.

His mother, who had thought it more prudent to attend to their dogs rather than get herself to safety with her husband and son.

His father, who had rescued him from their burning house only to leave him on the street to go back inside. James hadn’t been enough to keep his dad by his side, and so he had lost two parents that night.

His aunt, who had never wanted kids, had never expected to have kids. She pulled long hours and travelled incessantly, chasing big news stories while James pretended he was fine with being alone, while silently wishing his dad had never saved him from their house. He knew without a doubt that, if his aunt could do it all over again, if she knew then what she knew now, she never would have agreed to be his godmother when he was born. He loved his aunt, and knew his aunt loved him, but he wasn’t so naïve as to be ignorant of the fact that he had upheaved his aunt’s life, and not entirely for the better.

The friends he had left behind in the UK and never heard from again after he and his aunt moved to America. People he had known since childhood who hadn’t bothered putting in the effort to stay in touch, despite claiming they would.

His previous partners, many of whom finding ways to end their brief relationship after realizing he didn’t want to have sex with them. Time after time, he had to listen to them say it was fine that they weren’t being physically intimate—with an unspoken yet dangling between them—only to listen to them make up excuses for why they were ending the relationship. Granted, he had broken off a relationship himself a few times, but over half the time, his partner had been the one to end it.

Over and over, people came and people went, and at the heart of it, James was hardly more than a spectre, unable to be seen or heard as his heart was left broken. And yet when Rose had joined him, had taken his hand and made promises and vows that nobody ever had before, he had jumped at the first opportunity to assume she would leave him, too.

Chair legs scraped across the floor a moment before a warm, familiar arm wrapped around his waist. He turned into Rose and rested his cheek on her shoulder, breathing in her scent, the subtle tones of amber and citrus, of warmth and love and home.

Something deep in his chest cracked open, releasing the floodgates. For the past nine and a half years, he had been drifting, trying to make sense of how he could feel so alone when he was surrounded by people, able to make new friends and acquaintances at the drop of a hat. Yet there was always that disconnect, making him feel more like an outsider looking in. Like everyone else was aware of the punchline of a joke while he was left clueless.

Until Rose. With Rose it had been natural. Effortless. It was though his world had shifted into perfect focus, and at the heart of it was her. She had reminded him of what it felt like to belong, to feel perfectly at home with another person. And though he was desperate not to lose her and what they had together, part of him was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yet in doing so, he had let his anxiety take control and had hurt Rose badly enough that he had nearly caused her to do exactly what he had been terrified of.

James’s shoulders shook as he wept quietly into Rose’s neck, dampening the collar of her shirt. She didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she held him closer, rubbing her hand up and down the length of his spine as he sobbed and gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry for everything, Rose.”

Haltingly, through the juddering tears that cracked his voice, he explained his revelation to her. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was making excuses for himself, but he genuinely wanted her to understand the conclusion his big, stupid brain had come to.

“I let my fears take over,” he said, voice raw from crying and talking. “I didn’t realize what they were. And I didn’t realize how loud they’d gotten.”

“I understand,” Rose said quietly. “Believe me. I understand. Is there anything I can do to help you quiet them?”

James rubbed his hand beneath his clogged, stuffy nose and grimaced when it came away wet. He pulled away from Rose and stood, moving to the sink to wash his hands, then to grab a handful of tissues. He blotted his eyes then blew his nose before he sank into his seat beside her again.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I know this is a me problem, not a you problem. You’ve been wonderful, Rose. You and me… our relationship… it has all been wonderful. I don’t know why I was so quick to let ten minutes of screaming insecurities make me forget about half a year of loving you.”

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. “If ever there’s a time those voices are getting too loud, I’d like you to tell me. Though I know sometimes they can go unnoticed. But if you realize you’re getting stuck in your head, let me know and I’ll try to help you out of it.”

James flashed her a grateful smile. “Same for you. If there’s ever a time I can help you with whatever’s on your mind…”

Rose sighed. “I need to get better about that. I’ve realized I have a bad habit of telling myself I will deal with something later, but later never actually comes.” She sucked in a big breath and blew it out again. “I’m sorry you saw that letter from Jimmy. Yeah, you were a bit of a twat for reading it and reacting like you did. But I’m sorry you were blindsided like that, and that I ignored how it made you feel. And I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t trust you. I’m sorry I made you self-conscious for everything you’ve shared with me and that you feel like I don’t share enough with you.” She let out a sad little laugh that twisted his heart. “This is going to sound lame, but I honestly didn’t realize I wasn’t being as open with you as I thought I was. It feels like you know me better than anyone ever has, so I didn’t think to change anything. But now that I know how you feel, I want to work to be better at that.”

James shook his head and covered her hand. “No, Rose. I got caught up in my own head and in my frustration. You’ve shared more with me than I wanted to admit last night.” Jack’s words clanged around in his head. “I shouldn’t have expected the exact same level of sharing from you as I am comfortable with giving.”

“That’s not fair. I am comfortable with you…”

James cringed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not accusing you of anything, Rose. Merely stating a fact. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or upset, I swear. I want you to be comfortable talking with me, and forcing you to talk about things you aren’t comfortable with is counterproductive.”

“Thing is, I was always going to tell you everything about Jimmy,” Rose sighed. “When he first texted me, it sent me into a blind panic and I sorta… shut down. I wanted to take the time I needed to get into a better place before sharing it with you. But I guess I didn’t realize how long it was since he first texted me.”

James stayed silent, letting her get her thoughts together. He twined their fingers together, happy to be able to sit and touch her like this, when for many long, heartbreaking hours in the wee hours of that morning, he had been sure that he would never be able to do so again. Her hand fit perfectly in his, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make their relationship whole again, to make sure he could hold her hand for the rest of their lives.

When Rose began speaking, he gave her his full attention and tried to keep his emotions in check. He listened to her explain how Jimmy had texted her out of the blue, having gotten her number from a “mutual friend”.

“M’still not sure who gave it to him,” Rose said with a sigh. “He never told me and none of my friends claim to have done it.”

James listened to her describe the early conversations she’d had with Jimmy, from telling him that she needed time, to working through her anxiety with the help of Elsa and a counselor, to coming to the decision to let Jimmy say his piece.

“He was very important to me at one time. He was the love of my life. He was my everything. He will always be important and special because I genuinely loved him, and like it or not, my experiences with him shaped me into the person I am today. I don’t love him anymore, and frankly don’t miss him or want what we used to have, but if this would help him and me move on, I really wanted to let him say what he needed to say.

“He apologized to me, and it wasn’t even a terrible apology. Though he did make it sound like we both were at fault, but you know what, it was better than I was expecting, so I sorta took it as a win. I figured we were done, but then he wanted to know if he could repay me for all the debts he’d left me with. I can’t remember if I told you before, but he stopped paying his part of the rent at the end of our relationship. I got so behind on those payments because I had other bills to focus on that by the time I moved out, I was six months behind.

“I refused Jimmy’s offer. Told him everything was paid off and he didn’t owe me anything.” Rose sniffled and smiled ruefully, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You know my money insecurities. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might use this as a way to control me again. So I shut him down.”

“Good for you,” James murmured, his first words in a while. “You don’t have to go on. It’s okay.”

But Rose shook her head. “I want you to know all of this. I want to come to you when—as Elsa puts it—shit ties up my brain. And my brain has been in knots for over a month. I want to be better with being okay about my thoughts sometimes getting tangled; I realized if I waited until my brain was calm to tell you everything, I would never tell you anything. I don’t want secrets between us, and I’m frustrated with myself that I unwittingly kept secrets from you. I can’t promise I will tell you immediately when something is on my mind, but I will make more of an effort to be more open with you. I wish I’d told you all of this sooner, but I can’t go back and change how I handled this, so let me tell you all of this now.”

James nodded and brought their clasped hands to his lips for a soft kiss.

“After I told Jimmy I didn’t want his money, I thought we were done. I didn’t hear from him for a few days, but then I got a text from him, a selfie with some of our old friends. A harmless group photo. Then he started sharing news from home. Or he would send me playlists. Stupid, innocent stuff we used to. He has really good taste in music and I’m always happy to have new songs or artists to listen to.

“We started chatting a little more regularly. Not daily, but a few times a week. A few messages at a time. He shared updates about his life, told me about going to drug and alcohol meetings, financial counseling, and so on. I told him about America and school. I didn’t tell him about you, though. It’s stupid, and I should have because I don’t think Jimmy realizes I’m not single, but you’re mine.” The word sent a thrill up James’s spine, and he couldn’t help but kiss her knuckles again. “You’re mine and I didn’t want to share you with him. I didn’t want anything of Jimmy to touch you. And I wasn’t trying to lead him on or anything. Or keep him a secret from you. But all of a sudden it’s been five weeks since he first texted.

“Then he sent me that letter. It came two days ago. I cried when I got it. I never gave him my address, so I panicked that he had somehow stalked me and found me, that he would be waiting at the university for me. And I was just… so defeated. I thought maybe he’d changed. Grown up or something. Stupidly, I thought maybe we could eventually be friends. But the only thing he wanted was for me to get back together with him.”

Rose’s tears dripped down her cheeks and her breathing hitched. James wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. She willingly leaned into him and sniffled quietly for a long moment.

“Did you really think that was a love letter?” Rose croaked.

“Pardon?”

“What Jimmy wrote to me. Did you think it read like a love letter?”

James sucked on the inside of his lower lip. He tried to remember the content of the letter, but his memories were all tainted with the pain of their argument.

“I don’t remember enough of it,” he confessed. “I’m sorry.”

Rose lifted her bum off of her chair, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a piece of paper that had been folded into eighths.

“Here,” she said, giving it to him.

Tentatively, he took it. Rose pulled herself out of his embrace and grabbed a tissue from the crumpled pile he had brought over. 

As he reread the letter, his stomach twisted into knots when he picked out several words and phrases.

I’ve found a piece of myself…

I’m not complete…

I hate the person I am without you… 

…happiest of my life… 

…nothing more I’ve wanted…

…(our life?)… 

You make me feel like I can do anything… 

I love how I feel when I’m with you… 

I was scared about how much I needed you… 

…something I always knew would be there for me… 

I know I can make it work this time… 

…enjoy your time there, while you can… 

…we can work harder together to make us work… 

I will do whatever it takes to make this work… 

Over and over, James read the letter, his mind picking up more of the tone and the sheer selfishness in it. Everything Jimmy said was about him, about how he needed Rose, without giving a thought about whether Rose wanted or needed him. He plainly admitted to taking her for granted, and still, after all this time, he acted as though he and Rose were equally at fault for how their relationship had ended.

How must it have sounded to Rose, for him to go off on her about the letter?

“Oh, Rose,” James breathed, “I’m so sorry. God, I was a twat, wasn’t I?”

She let out a watery giggle. “Yeah, a bit.”

“Can I ask…? How did Jimmy find your address? I mean. Do you even know how he found it?”

Rose’s eyes welled with tears again, even as she scoffed. “My mum.”

“Your… mum?” That had not been what James had expected. “But… why?”

Rose shook her head. “Apparently Jimmy went ‘round the estate. Found my mum and told her we’d been chatting. Said he wanted to send me money to help cover the bills I’d paid. He said exactly the right thing—when I moved back home, my mum kept telling me over and over that Jimmy should cough up the money to cover his half of the flat and the expenses that had built up. 

“A couple weeks ago, my mum asked me if I’d been chatting with Jimmy. When I said yes, I guess she assumed I knew Jimmy wanted to repay me but I was being unreasonable.” Rose’s face crumpled. “I know my mum didn’t know how badly Jimmy had treated me, and that's my fault for not telling her. But what if he’d been a murderous stalker? What if he’d physically or sexually abused me? What if he used that information and showed up alone at my flat one night and broke in and…?”

She coughed out a wracking sob and buried her face in her hands. James nearly began crying at the sight of her distress. “How dare my mum give out my address like that? I never thought she’d do something like that. My mum called to wish me a happy birthday and I told her a little bit about why you and I were fighting, and she told me she was the one who gave Jimmy my address. I got so angry with her, and she was gettin’ angry with me. I’ve spent the day crying ‘cos I was fighting with my two favorite people.”

James tossed the letter onto the table and wrapped his arms around Rose, holding her tightly to his chest. He had never been angrier with another person than he was right now with Jackie Tyler. Well. Jackie Tyler and Jimmy bloody Stone. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m sorry.”

“Joke’s on Mum, though; Jimmy didn’t send a single quid with that letter.” Rose sniffled and scrubbed her hands across her eyes. “I hate this. I wish I’d blocked Jimmy from the start, I wish I’d told you when he texted, I wish I’d told my mum not to talk to Jimmy. I wish I’d handled everything differently, and I wish I hadn’t gotten so upset with you last night. I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry for it all.”

James tightened his hold around her, burying his face into her neck while she wept into his. “You have every right to handle situations however you think is best. I should have had more faith and trust in you and in our relationship. I was unreasonable. But I forgive you, love. Of course I forgive you. I love you. I love you more than you can imagine, and I’m so sorry I doubted it last night.”

Rose began crying harder into his shoulder. Her breaths came out in harsh gasps as she managed to reply, “I love you too. I’m sorry for putting the doubt in your head… when you asked if I was breaking up with you and I said I didn’t know. God, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean it at all. I got scared too, same as you, and my brain sort of shut down because it couldn’t stop thinking of everything Jimmy had said or done in the past, and twisting it to look like what you were saying and doing. That’s something I need to work on because that’s insulting for me to imply that you’re anything like him, but I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed you out, and I’m so sorry.”

James merely held her tighter, his heart breaking at her agony, yet filling with more love for her than he’d ever felt before.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, Rose,” he murmured into her hair. “The strongest. You’ve overcome so much, and you’re working to make yourself the best version of yourself that you can be, and that’s so admirable. I am here to listen to anything you want to tell me, but I am okay with not knowing everything. I trust your judgement, and I know you’ll tell me what you want me to know.”

He continued speaking quietly, a combination of reassurances, affirmations, and words of love. She shed more tears than he’d ever seen her shed, and he shed just as many. He was exhausted and overwhelmed, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a very long time tangled with Rose.

When her tears finally dried, he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head before sitting back in his chair. He grabbed a tissue for himself and passed one to her; they noisily blew their noses and wiped their eyes.

“Well. Wasn’t that cathartic?” he said cheerfully, holding his hand out for her tissue to throw in the rubbish bin.

She chuckled. Though her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were splotchy, he didn’t think there was a more beautiful person in the world than her.

He washed his hands after throwing away their used tissues, then he grabbed a few more, just in case. His nose was still a bit runny, and he was sure Rose’s had to be too. He plopped into his chair with a groan.

“First fight,” he mused. “Can tick that one off the list, I suppose.”

“Was it everything you expected it to be?” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

“Admittedly it was a lot more painful than I thought,” he said. “But now we can go back to how we were, right?”

Rose paused. In the silence, his heart sank into his stomach.

“I don’t know if we should,” she said carefully, and his lungs were suddenly out of air. Her eyes widened. “No, not like you’re thinking. It’s just… everything we fought about, everything we talked about, it changed us. It changed our relationship. Not in a bad way, but it’s different now. We’re more aware of some things that we weren’t before. I don’t want to go backwards with you. I want us to go forward. Together.”

James nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. He slid his hand across the table, slipping it beneath Rose’s so her palm rested against the back of his hand. He splayed his fingers, letting hers fall between the gaps. She curled her fingers around his hand.

“You’re right,” he said, caressing his thumb along the side of her pinkie. “Absolutely, you’re right. Guess this means the honeymoon period is over?”

“Probably.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Hopefully we’re not over the horny hump though.”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that I said that, are you?” he whined, grimacing.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ as he often did. “It was such a dorky thing to call it.”

He pouted. “You never complained about my dorkiness before.”

“I love your dorkiness. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it though.” Her smile slipped until her face turned solemn. “I’m really glad we talked this out, James.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Me too.”

“Any time Jimmy and I had an argument, we never did this. We’d shout at each other, curse at each other, and then ignore each other and not speak for a day or so. Then we’d have angry make up sex and pretend everything was fine in the morning. I don’t want to ever do that again. I want to communicate with you and to compromise with you, then grow with you.

“Staying in love is a choice, and it takes work. It shouldn’t be hard, but it’s not easy either. We need to choose to stay in love, decide that our relationship is worth making an effort for. I want to wake up every day and choose you, to choose us, and I want to put in the work because I wanna enjoy the payoff. Because being in love with you, James… it’s the best I’ve ever felt. You make me feel like I can do anything, like pass a stupid chemistry class or tell my stupid ex-boyfriend to fuck off. I love the way you make me feel. I love feeling like I’m home whenever I’m with you. And though this home we’re building with each other might have a leaky roof every now and then, I wanna fix it with you.”

James’s eyes were burning again. How was anything even left in his tear ducts? “Oh, Rose. You make me feel the same way. And I feel so inadequate because you just waxed romantic poetry at me, but my brain has stopped working. But please know I love you with every cell in my body, and I want to keep loving you with every cell, all the way down to each little organelle contained within, every day for the rest of our long and beautiful life together.”

Rose grinned at him and leaned over to press a light kiss to his lips. They tingled at the contact, and he wanted to pull her close to kiss her again.

“You’re such a science geek,” she said.

“Well. I’ve already shown you I’m rather fabulous with many types of chemistry and anatomy,” he drawled, flashing her an over-the-top wink as he clicked his tongue lewdly.

She burst into a fit of laughter that he echoed, feeling at peace for the first time in twenty-four hours. The exhaustion of all those hours suddenly overwhelmed him. His laughter morphed into a yawn, which spread to Rose.

“I’m knackered,” he announced unnecessarily. “Will you come to bed with me? My bedroom’s a disaster, but the guest bed is made.”

Rose nodded and stood up from the kitchen table. She took their bowl to the sink and rinsed it out before leaving it there for them to clean properly in the morning. She then flicked off the light on top of the stove before she followed him through the rest of the house, locking up and turning lights off as they went.

“Can I see what you’ve done to your room?” Rose asked.

“Sure,” he said, continuing down the hall rather than peeling off into the guest room. When he got to his closed door, he warned, “It’s a mess.”

They were hit with the stench of paint fumes as soon as he opened the bedroom door. He flicked on the light, and the room was bathed in the yellow glow of his lamps.

“Love the color,” Rose said.

“Yeah?” he asked, pleased with himself that, even in his miserable, depressive state of trying to not think about Rose, he had managed to pick a color she would like.

“Mhm.”

“I have to put on the second coat. I’ll probably do that tomorrow—I’m not really feeling like going to my classes, so I’ll probably ditch ‘em again.”

“You rebel,” she teased. “If you want some help, I don’t have anything important going on tomorrow. And I don’t work this weekend. We can take a few days to finish up the painting and reorganize your furniture.”

James smiled. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and tucked her face against his shoulder. “Besides, it’ll go faster with two.”

Leaning down, James brushed a kiss to her crown then rested his cheek in her hair. “Faster with two. Better with two.” He gave her waist a tight squeeze as he kissed her again. “Better with you.”

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 7 | London & T Shirts | 6.4k words

‘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, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Masterlist

a/n: thanks for the week of grace, friends. I really appreciate it. FINALLY here’s part 7 ! 

“Listen, I know I’ve said this a lot,” Aurora starts as Harry walks into his dressing room. She’s sitting on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table and her tour lookbook in her lap. “But tonight’s suit is my favourite.” Harry groans and then chuckles. “Harry! Listen, this one isn’t a normal suit. It’s on the same level as the Palamo pinstripe.” Aurora meets Harry’s eyes and he’s instantly reminded of that night in Spain. His eyebrows rise up in question. “Shut up.” She says with a small smirk. “But the baby pink velvet with the gold beading and the gold trouser stripe. The fact that Alessandro loved it so much he made it in black too and then I convinced Lambert that they should be used to mark monumental nights of your tour.” 

“That was your idea?” Harry asks as he sits down on the couch next to her. Aurora hums a yes. “Why London and LA?” 

“You really wanna know?” Harry nods. “It's the O2 for crying out loud, and then London, it’s your home. LA, the final show, your other home.” She answers as she puts her book to the side and grabs for one of Harry’s hands. She laces her fingers with his and looks up to him. “What?” she questions the look on his face.

“You really thought of all that when deciding those 2 suits?” She nods this time. 

“Not just those 2, all of them. Made sure the suit matched the show.” Harry brings their intertwined hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the back of Aurora’s hand. Harry shakes his head, not knowing how to express what he’s feeling so instead he just pulls Aurora in for a kiss. 

“So what colour are we painting your nails this time?” Aurora asks once they’ve settled back into the couch. 

“Black, again,” he says with a smirk. 

“Really?” Aurora asks in disbelief, sure he was going to pick a brighter colour. 

“Mhm, it’s like I’ve got a piece of you on stage with me.” 

Aurora huffs, unable to hide the smile that takes over her face. 

They situate themselves on the floor of his dressing room. Aurora sits in the empty space between Harry’s outstretched legs. With a knee of her own propped up, she sets Harry’s hand on it and begins to work on his nails. They’re both quiet and neither of them mind. They’ve tuned out the chaos that is happening in the rest of the arena. Aurora knows this is why Harry asked for her to do his nails. A moment of calmness. A moment away from being the center of attention. 

All last night and this morning, Harry had been getting calls and texts and emails about people’s excitement mixed with a handful of stressful ones from Jeff or any member of his management team. Aurora had to convince him that turning his phone off for a while was okay and that there was no need to worry about something someone else can take care of. She also reminded him that everyone will still be excited to see him in the morning, that those texts will still be there. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help or reply to his friends. It’s that Harry doesn’t know when to stop sometimes. Last night they were sitting at a local pub, a place where Harry’s a regular and even though his phone was on silent and he was trying his hardest to pay attention to the story Aurora was telling, he couldn’t focus. Aurora realised quickly that Harry doesn’t transition well between being “tour harry” and “just harry.” Bringing his work home with him doesn’t help either. Aurora made that comment in reference to herself and he really didn't’ appreciate it till later. When he went to say goodnight as he opened the car door for Aurora he did laugh about it with a loud chuckle, the joke finally clicking in his head.

The pulse at his wrist changes, bringing Aurora out of her own thoughts.“What’re you thinking about?” She asks as she grazes his pulse point with the pad of her finger. They’re so close that she can hear the rhythm of his breath speed up too. 

“Oh nothing,” he answers, brushing away the question. 

Aurora holds the polish bottle and brush in one hand and sets the hand she’s working on on her knee. With her free hand she reaches for Harry’s chin and tilts it just right so he has no choice but to look at her. He sighs. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?” Harry nods slowly. Aurora presses a soft, lingering kiss to his lips before going back to painting his nails. 

As she switches hands, Harry sighs again. She looks up to him through her lashes then back down to his nails and polish. 

“Nervous as hell.” It’s not a full sentence and that’s how Aurora knows how truly nervous he is. He goes to brush the bottom of his nose, another nervous habit, but stops himself unsure if he’ll mess up the polish that is drying. 

“That’s understandable,” Aurora offers. His lashes fluttered, almost like he was surprised by her response. “It’s a big show, well 2 big shows. I think I’d be concerned if you weren’t a little nervous.” 

“You know, anyone else would’ve asked why I’m nervous. They would’ve told me I have no reason to be.” Aurora hums.

“You may have sold out the O2 arena for 2 nights but that doesn’t make you superhuman. The way I see it, you being nervous about these performances shows how human you are. How humble you are. How much you care and how much you love your job. There’s nothing wrong with being nervous.” The words are true and Harry should know all of that. 

Harry leans his head down and presses a kiss to her cheek. 

“Thanks for understanding and thanks for saying that.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Aurora smiles at him. 

“Girl who keeps her word.” Aurora raises an eyebrow at him in question. “You said that on the first night of tour. That’s what I’m here for,” he repeats back to her. “After you talked me through my nerves then.” 

“Don’t like seeing you like this I guess” she whispers as she continues to paint again. 

“What?” 

“You’re always so calm,” she sighs now, “so when you’re stressed or nervous I can just pick up on it really fast. Feeling nerves or stress is never fun. I just hope I can help calm you back down, at least a little bit.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologizes softly, like his feelings are a burden. 

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” she assures him, pausing from painting the next nail. “I just don’t think many people pick up on it, which is probably what you want. You’re good at hiding it,” Harry nods as Aurora continues. “I don’t know what it is, but I can just tell when something is off,” she goes back to painting again. “I think it might be because I used to, well still do I guess, I used to hide my nerves or anxiety so nobody would make a fuss over it. Just kind of brush it under the rug and move forward. It’s a familiar feeling.” Harry doesn’t say anything when Aurora finishes. “I don’t mean to overstep… can’t help but notice, is all.” 

“You’re not overstepping,” Harry quietly responds. “I’m not used to having someone that can read me this well. It’s nice.” His lips press together into a small smirk. They meet eyes for a brief moment then Aurora goes back to finishing the job at hand. “What’s so familiar about it all?” 

The question stumps Aurora for a moment. She searches her brain for a moment trying to think back to the small gestures and change of behavior that she picked up on. 

“Well, you know, you always do this thing where you brush your nose. You do it a lot actually,” she giggles, “it’s not always when you’re nervous. Sometimes you’ll do it when you’re uncomfortable or unsure of something. I’ve seen you do it thousands of times during interviews.” 

“Ah, yeah, that I've done since I was little. Never been able to break that habit,” he laughs. 

“Makes sense, but I think it’s the fact that you just go quiet all of a sudden. I do that too. I shut down, which you don’t necessarily do. You’re always there, just a bit quieter than normal.” 

“I get in my head a lot, don’t want to bother anyone,” he confirms solemnly. 

“You’re not a bother to me,” Aurora reassures him. “Okay! All done! They’re still tacky, but I’m done painting.” 

“Thank you, Ror.” 

“No problem,” she says with a smile, setting down the polish. 

“Not just for painting my nails-” 

“No need to thank me for anything else, Harry.” 

Aurora packs up her nail supplies, zipping the bag and setting it out of the way. Harry’s admiring the fresh polish on his nails as he moves back to the couch, sinking into the cushions. 

“Alright?” Aurora asks, sitting down next to him. Harry just shrugs his shoulders. “When’s your next time commitment?”

“I’ve got sound check in an hour, I think,” he says, his voice trailing off a bit. 

“Okay, come here then,” Aurora says as she moves her body towards the other side of the couch. She leans herself against a pillow and gets comfortable, patting her lap once she’s settled. “Come on, no need to do anything else right now, yeah?” Harry nods hesitantly. 

Once his head is resting on her lap she lets her hand fall to his hair. It only takes a few runs of her fingers through his hair for his eyes to close. Aurora can tell he’s not actually asleep by his breathing that is still not steady and the light flutter of his eyelids when she grazes her nails lightly against his scalp soothingly. 

“Told my mum when I got home last night.” 

Aurora hums in question. 

“Told her that we made it official, that you’re my girlfriend.” Aurora’s hand freezes for a moment, a smile sneaking up on her face. Harry opens one eye to look up at her. “Hey, don’t stop,” he whines. Aurora rolls her eyes and takes her hand out of his hair completely. “Please, Rory,” he continues to whine. She sighs and goes back to the movements in his hair. “Thank you,” he says with a smile, eyes closed now. “Told Gemma and Michael too, texted Jack. Told him everything. He thought it was hilarious.” Aurora huffs at the comment. “When I told Mitch this morning that you were my girlfriend officially all he said was ‘duh’. And then Sarah made a comment about how she’s excited that she doesn't have to 3rd wheel Mitch and I now.”

Aurora’s laugh fills the room. It’s light and carefree. Harry joins in, enjoying the moment. His nerves subside for the next hour. It’s hard to think about anything going on outside of the quiet dressing room when Aurora has her hands in Harry’s hair, both of their laughter filling the space every so often and the innocent kisses they trade back and forth. If it weren’t for Harry’s reminder on his phone, they would’ve easily lost track of time and stayed in that dressing room forever. 

“How’re you doing now?” Aurora asks as they stall at the closed door. Harry shrugs his shoulders just like earlier. “What can I do for you?” She asks, her hands softly resting on his jaw, fingers sprawled towards the back of his neck. He shakes his head. Aurora tilts her head at him. “Babe,” she pleads. 

“Rory, I’ll be alright. I promise. The nerves aren’t gonna go away-” 

“I know that.” 

“-but I’m feeling much better. Thank you,” he says as he squeezes her waist. Aurora shakes her head before pulling him down so she can kiss his lips properly. 

| | | | |

Aurora catches a glimpse of Harry as she’s walking from craft services to Clare and Sarah’s dressing rooms. He’s meeting some fans from Rays Of Sunshine and she does a double take when Harry poses for a photo with a little girl. She slows her walk down to enjoy this brief moment, a bright smile reaches her eyes. Just before she makes it out of eyesight she sees the little girl point at his painted fingernails and she can hear Harry’s sweet laugh as she takes the last step out of eyesight. Her cheeks pink up slightly to no one but herself, until she hears her name coming from a newly familiar voice. 

“Hi Gemma!” Aurora greets her with a one handed hug, holding her tour lookbook in the other hand, while (surprise surprise) balancing a fresh cup of coffee too.

“How was your day yesterday?” Gemma asks as they walk down the hallway. “Oh it was… good. Spent most of the day watching Criminal Minds and ordering room service. Definitely needed the day off to regroup and relax.” 

“I love Criminal Minds! Is this your first time watching it?” Gemma’s eye’s light up at the connection. She walks with Aurora as she continues through the hallway again.

Aurora laughs, “1st time? More like the 10th time, probably.” 

Gemma joins in with Aurora’s laughter, “Oh finally!!! Now I have someone to obsessively talk to about it. Michael doesn’t love it, but he’ll watch the new episodes with me every week. He’s definitely annoyed with my love for Spencer Reid.” 

“Wait, Gems! Ah Gemma, sorry,” she corrects herself. “Harry soley refers to you as Gems.”

She laughs again, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Aurora offers a look of thanks. 

“Anyways, Spencer Reid is the love of my life,” she continues with a smile.

“Same here!” The two girls laugh with each other. 

“How was being home?”Aurora asks when their laughter stops. 

“It was nice. I go home to visit mum a lot but it’s always so great when Harry’s home too. Really feels like home when he’s there.” 

“That sounds really nice.” 

“How’re you holding up?” Gemma asks picking up on the longing in Aurora’s voice.

“Oh, I’m doing fine. A bit homesick, but that’s expected yeah?” Gemma nods along. “I haven’t really lived at home in years but touring is different. I think it’s not having a permanent home that makes it hard.” 

“Yeah, I remember the first few times I traveled along on small bits of tour, it was weird. Sometimes it feels like a vacation but then others it feels like everyday is like starting a new life… if that makes any sense?” 

“Yeah, it does, actually,” Aurora agrees as she turns into Sarah and Clare’s dressing room. “It’s like there’s not enough consistency day to day because it isn’t always show day and then a day off. Everyday you’ve gotta be on top of it. And it’s so hard to not just be lazy when you have down time to get rest because you wanna go see everything.” 

“Yes exactly!! I hadn’t traveled much until Harry started touring. It was so much fun to go to new places. Have you traveled a lot?” 

“Not really, grew up in New York so visiting the city wasn’t a huge deal and traveled to other big cities in the US for dance competitions growing up. When I studied abroad as CSM, that was the first time I had left the country. Had to get a passport for it specifically!” 

Gemma hangs out with Aurora while she gets the clothes ready. They talk about college, or university as Gemma calls it. They share their favourite movies - Aurora has a sweet spot of 80’s romcoms but loves a good thriller and Gemma despises indie films that are slow paced, but really loves any comedy that will make her cry from laughter. Gemma shared a few touring pointers and promised that next time they’re in the same city they’ll get coffee without Harry and have a girls spa day or something. 

Aurora is beside herself when Gemma makes another comment about how happy Harry seems. But this time she adds that it definitely has something to do with her being around. 

| | | | |

“How’re you doing, rockstar?” Aurora asks as Harry walks towards her, ready to change into his suit. 

“I’m good, excited!” he answers as he strips out of his track pants and hoodie, then the white t shirt as well. 

“Good,” Aurora comments with a smile. 

“Like what you see?” Harry says obnoxiously. 

“Harry, shut up and just put these trousers on,” Aurora retorts as she hands him the slim black trousers trimmed with gold. 

As Harry buttons his white shirt Aurora grabs his boots from the box and hands them to him when he’s ready. 

“You know, those old gold boots you used to wear would’ve been incredible with this suit.” 

“You would remember those boots.” 

“Heart of gold and boots to match,” Aurora recalls back to him. Harry’s eyes pop and his eyebrows rise up. “Iconic tweet by your mother, honestly. And too true.” 

Aurora follows him into the connected bathroom, baby pink velvet jacket in hand. She hops up on the counter as Harry goes through the rest of his routine. She stays silent, listening to him hum to himself and riff off a few vocal warm ups. Aurora runs her fingers along the gold beads and sequins on the jacket, remembering their first fitting. 

“I think we’re thinking about the same thing,” Harry says as he puts toothpaste on his toothbrush. 

“That first fitting during prep week.” Aurora states because she knows he’s right. Harry nods. 

“Crazy how fast things can change, isn’t it?” Aurora hums in acknowledgement, continuing to run her fingertips across the beading. 

“Harry!” Anne’s voice calls through the dressing room. Harry’s in the middle of brushing his teeth so Aurora responds. 

“He’s in here, Anne!” She calls, inviting her in. 

“Oh Aurora! Happy to see you again” she says, pressing a light kiss to her cheek and giving her a bright smile. Anne’s less guarded towards Aurora today and Aurora relaxes again, slouching on the counter top. “Some things never change,” Anne comments as Harry finishes brushing his teeth. “He’s always done this. Before every show he’s ever done. Even shows back in primary school,” she tells Aurora. 

“Mum, please, let's not share any embarrassing childhood stories just yet. Only made it official last night,” Harry winks at Aurora. She rolls her eyes. 

“Honestly, Harry, you don’t hide much and I’ve seen you on stage every night this tour. Think that’s embarrassing enough.” 

“Hey!” he whines and Anne laughs along with Aurora. “You and Gemma both can’t be friends with Rory if you’re going to pick on me all the time.” 

“Harry, someones gotta pick on you, I told you that. Too many screaming fans night after night, gotta keep you humble.” Aurora counters and receives a high five from Anne. 

Once Harry’s done they head back into the dressing room. Aurora helps Harry slide into his jacket. They both hear the shutter sound of an iPhone camera and Harry whines at his mom for taking photos but she just brushes it off as all moms do. Gemma and Michael join the 3 of them as they walk from Harry’s dressing room towards the main bit of backstage. 

“Aurora, honey, are you joining us again?” Anne asks.

Aurora looks to Harry and the split second of his eyes meeting hers she can tell he doesn’t want her to go just yet. “I’m gonna meet up with y’all in a little bit. This jacket has been giving us all kinds of trouble and I just need to make sure all the beads are really secure before Harry goes on stage.”

“Of course dear, we’ll see you in a little bit then.” Anne gives Harry a kiss on his cheek, a hug and smile. Gemma and Michael both wish him luck. Once his family is out of earshot Harry speaks up. 

“Thanks for staying back.” 

“Technically, it is my job to be right here.” 

They exchange a soft smile before Harry’s band joins them. Aurora steps back after she adjusts Mitch’s jacket and Sarah’s shirt. She hangs out off the side, sitting on a big crate, her small sewing kit sitting next to her. The jacket is fine. The beads aren’t gonna fall off, at least not until the very end of the show. She’s here for Harry right now. She watches as they do their pre stage rituals as a band. Helene takes a photo of them as a group and then his band is off, making their way through the double doors to the stage.

Harry makes eye contact with Aurora and she joins him. 

“You good?” she asks for what seems like the millionth time today.

He hums, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. 

“Harry!” Jeff calls as he walks up to him. Harry takes the hand that’s holding Aurora’s and pulls it behind his back. He wants Aurora close, he’s making that clear to her without any words. He’s face to face with Jeff, Aurora is standing behind him, their hands still intertwined, resting at his lower back. Aurora squeezes his hand to let him know she’s not going anywhere. “Ready?” Jeff asks when the stage manager and the rest of the sound crew  approach Harry. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry answers, no nerves evident in his voice. Another squeeze to his hand. 

They walk through the double doors, a security guard lights the way in front of the small group with a flashlight. The sound crew goes ahead and gets to their places after confirming that Harry’s mic pack is on and ready to go one last time. Jeff says his good lucks and is out of sight in seconds. 

“Good luck, rockst-” but she can’t finish the word ‘rockstar’ because Harry cuts her off. 

“I know you said no the other night cause you didn’t want to overstep with my mum,” the words come out quick and Aurora has to really focus to understand him and tune out the rest of the hustle that is happening around them, backstage in the dark, “but will you come home with me tonight? Back to my house? Not my mums, but my house? Back to my house. Here. In London.” Harry blurts out the question repeatedly. “I should’ve asked earlier but-” 

“Yes,” she answers without thought. 

Aurora’s answer doesn’t sink in right away but when it does Harry’s brain can’t decide what to do. “Really?” comes out of his mouth with a short laugh of disbelief, his arms fly open and pull Aurora into a bear hug. He’s smiling ear to ear, dimples indent his cheeks, his nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Aurora thinks she’s being held by sunshine when he relaxes into the hug, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head. She’s warm and feels safe and wants to ingrain the image of Harry in her head forever. Real life, actual sunshine is staring back at her. “Really?” he asks again when he meets her eyes. 

“Yes, really. I’d love to,” Aurora says loud enough to be heard over the screams but quiet enough that just Harry can hear it. Harry grabs her face in both of his hands and kisses her hard. 

Aurora laughs when they pull apart just as fast as they were brought together. 

“Lipstick!” she exclaims through a laugh. She thumbs at his lips wiping away any lingering colour that stuck to him. “You really shouldn’t be going on stage with a lipstick mark…” Harry rolls his eyes. “Good luck, Harry,” she says trying to push him in the direction of the stairs. 

“You are something else,” he says in disbelief. “I’ll see you after the show, Rory!” he yells as he runs up the stairs. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth one last time before making his way to his spot at center stage, behind the screen. 

| | | | |

It’s an early night compared to others and Aurora never thought she’d find herself here. She’s stepping into Harry’s car, Harry holding the door open for her before rounding the front of the car to step into the driver side. The car hums to a start, the stereo playing on a low volume. Harry smiles at Aurora briefly before he focuses on the road and pulls away from the arena. 

“Mind if I?” Aurora asks, gesturing to the stereo controls

Harry pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to Aurora, “It should be playing from apple music, but Spotify is there too.” 

Aurora is surprised when he hands her the unlocked phone but she doesn’t question it. She opens spotify and searches for her own profile. Scrolling through her playlists she finds her driving playlist. 

“Not going through my photos are you?” He jokes. 

“Of course I am,” she jokes back. “Trying to find the perfect- hah! Here it is!” 

An acoustic guitar opens the song and Harry knows the song instantly. River by Leon Bridges fills the speakers. He reaches out his left hand in search of Aurora’s that sitting in her lap now. Aurora lets out a sigh of adoration as Harry brings her hand up to his lips and kisses her knuckles. Tucking her lips between her teeth, she hides a smile. Harry lets their hands fall to Aurora’s lap. She plays with the rings that still adorn his hand and stares out the window, enjoying the London city lights. 

When the song ends she speaks up, “I’m really excited to see that song live when Leon Bridges opens for you. It’s always been one of my favourites.” Harry doesn’t say anything but instead gives her hand a squeeze before the next song on the playlist plays. 

The car ride feels like another world. Driving around London, nothing but empty roads and city lights in front of them, Aurora feels on top of the world. Even in the darkness of the night, the darkness of the car, Harry feels like sunshine. Pools of light fall from his eyes, his smile. They seep through his skin and warm aurora from the inside out. 

As Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World continues to play in the car, Aurora allows herself to glance over at Harry who is focused on the road in front of him. 

| | | | |

“Welcome to my home,” Harry says sweetly as he opens the door for Aurora to step through. After closing the door behind himself he taps a few buttons that are near the door, the flashing red light turning green. He switches the hallway light on as he knocks his shoes off by the door, pushing them off to the side. Harry helps Aurora out of her coat and hangs it up with his. He walks past her, switching on a few other lights and the house begins to illuminate. Harry doesn’t say much, just points out different rooms, not making a spectacle of the surely multi million dollar mansion he calls home. 

“It’s beautiful, Harry,” Aurora compliments as they make their way through another hallway. Aurora feels cozy. It feels like Harry, this entire place, regardless that he isn’t currently inhabiting it for the time being, feels like home. Aurora’s heart swells at the photos on the walls of his mum and dad, step dad, pictures of him and gemma from christmas morning when they were little, one of them at Gemma’s graduation and then a few photos of him and the rest of the boys, Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn are scattered throughout the wall too. There are photos never seen by the rest of the world and Aurora smiles at each one. 

“Here, you can wear this,” Harry says as he turns back to Aurora after rummaging through one of his drawers. Aurora is still mesmerized by his closet, the closet that is probably the same size as her first apartment in NYC. “Oh, you would find that,” he says matter of factly when he sees her running her hand over the black and white floral suit that hangs among some of the other suits. 

“Harry, this suit,” she states in awe. “God, I loved this suit.” 

“Hey, can you be my girlfriend for one second and not my Head of Wardrobe?” Aurora turns around to him.

“That was 2015 Aurora who had your band’s posters up in her childhood room not your head of wardrobe,” she corrects him. Harry’s eyes widen before he lets out a bark of a laugh, like he’s caught off guard. “What?” she asks through a small laugh. He steps forward towards her and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Nothing,” he says when they meet eyes, shaking his head. “Here,” he says handing her the forgotten t shirt in his hand. 

“What’s-” she stops herself from finishing her questioning. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. There’s no way she’ll sleep in her jeans and her suitcase is back at the hotel. The empty hotel room. “Thanks,” is all she says as she stares at Harry’s t shirt that is now soft in her own hands. 

“Everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” she laughs to herself, “guess I didn’t think about this, should’ve grabbed something from my suitcase.” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he says with a shrug. “Let me go grab a spare toothbrush for ya.”

“Oh! I have mine in my purse actually,” Aurora says, “keep all that stuff in my purse when I travel.” Aurora turns towards the door. “I think I set it downstairs.” She hesitates at the door, unsure of where to go find it, they took a few turns to get to his closet, surely she’ll get lost. Harry chuckles at her frozen in her own steps. 

“Let me go grab it for you.” 

As Harry dashes out of the room, his feet sounding down the stairs, Aurora allows herself to have a moment. Today had been so crazy she hadn’t had time to overthink what tonight would bring. When Harry asked her to stay with him at his place she was caught up in it all. She was so proud, so enraptured, so warm and fuzzy. There was no way she could say no to him, to those green eyes that were begging her to say yes. There was no reason for her to say no. She’s not ready to sleep with him. 

Before she can figure out what to do or sort out her new thoughts, he’s back, purse in hand and directing towards his bedroom then motioning to the ensuite bathroom. Her chest feels heavy and so does the cotton shirt in her hand. Nerves make her heart thrum against her ribcage. Harry hums to himself as he gets out his face wash from the cabinet next to the sink. His humming starts to drown out Aurora’s own heartbeat in her ears. He hands a clean washcloth to Aurora. 

‘Thanks,” she says with a soft smile. She fumbles around in her makeup bag looking for the familiar container of her cleanser. She pauses for a moment when she’s found it and takes a deep breath, dropping it back in the bag. “Harry,” she says barely audible, facing him, hip pressing against the counter. He hums a response. Her voice shakes slightly, “I-I-”

He takes his focus from the bottle in his hand and brings it to her, his eyebrows dipping together in the middle, concerned, “Everything alright, Ror?” 

“I,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m really happy I’m here right now, but I just need you to know that I’m not ready, not ready to-” Harry nods, knowing where this is going. “-to have sex with you, yet.” 

“I hope you know I had no expectations for that tonight… just ‘cause you’ve come home with me doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do anything.” 

“Oh I know that,” Aurora clarifies, “but I wanted to be honest with you. Truthfully, it didn’t cross my mind until you handed me one of your shirts.” She giggles, looking at her hands. “Just need to tell you, that I’m not ready, yet,” she adds, emphasizing the word yet. She doesn’t want it off the table completely.

Harry sets the bottle that is still in his hands on the counter before taking the 2 small steps needed to close the space between them. He pulls Aurora into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders. She can feel him ghost his lips on the crown of her head. Relaxing into his chest she snakers her hands around to his back and up, resting her hands on his shoulder blades. Aurora pulls away after a moment and presses a kiss to the skin peaking out near the collar of Harry’s sweatshirt. 

“I’m so tired, don’t think I could get it up, regardless,” Harry says with a straight face when they pull apart. Aurora’s jaw drops and she whacks the back of her hand against Harry’s nearest shoulder. “What?” Harry asks through a loud laugh. 

“You’re just so, so, ugggg,” Aurora rolls her eyes and goes back to her makeup bag. 

They both wash their faces while making eye contact here and there in the mirror. Harry knocks his hip against Aurora’s when he starts brushing his teeth. She giggles as she adds toothpaste to her brush. As she starts to brush she knocks her hip against his now. They giggle, their mouths full of toothpaste. Harry at home. This is something she could get used to. 

“Need anything, darling?” Harry asks as he makes his way to his bedroom. “I’m gonna go set the alarms downstairs.” She nods her head no. She gives him a small smile as he walks out, closing the bathroom door behind him, giving her her privacy. He’s sweet and careful and purposefully is giving her a moment alone. She brushes her hair into a loose braid then taps a light layer of chapstick on her lips. She unfurls the cotton shirt Harry gave her to wear. It’s a faded black tee with a Rolling Stones graphic printed on the front. She’s seen him wear a handful of t shirts just like this all equally worn and tattered. 

The shirt is soft against her bare skin and the hem tickles the top of her thighs where it falls. It smells like harry and she’s comforted by it. A small smile finds a permanent home on her face as she folds her clothes into a pile. Holding them to her chest she opens the door to find Harry setting down a glass of water on each of the bedside tables.  Aurora sets her discarded clothes on a chair that’s tucked away in the corner of the room and then takes a moment before she turns around. She can feel Harry’s eyes on her and when she turns around they travel up her body. Harry walks over and rests his hand at Aurora’s waist, giving her a chaise kiss on the lips before going back into the bathroom himself, a pair of grey joggers in his hands. 

Aurora busies herself with finding an empty outlet to plug her phone in for the night. Deciding to sit on the bed, she notices it’s most likely Harry’s prefered side as it has a small clock there, a stack of books and a small silver bowl where his rings are now. Her eyes are drawn to the top book from the pile, recognizing the author as the writer from Rolling Stones magazine. She opens the Rob Sheffield book and begins to skim through the first page. When she hears the door open up again, the light from the bathroom goes out, and she’s met with Harry walking towards her. 

His sweatpants are hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers peeking out at the top, Aurora can’t help but stare. It’s not like she doesn’t see a version of this almost everyday but it’s different. Aurora blindly sets the book back on the nightstand so she doesn’t have to look away. She feels frozen to her spot on the bed as Harry walks towards her. 

“You’re a dream, you know?” Harry says softly as he reaches down to hold her face in his right hand. Aurora closes her eyes softly as harry’s thumb rubs soothingly against her cheekbone. When she opens her eyes, she pretty much eye level with the butterfly tattoo that sits at the top of his stomach. She told herself that one day if she were ever here, she’d trace his tattoos for as long as he’d let her. So she does just that. Her hands wrap lightly around his ribcage as her thumbs brush against the wings of the tattoo. She can see her hands trembling a bit when she goes to trace the laurels that peak out from his boxers. The strong sound of her heartbeat resurfaces to her ears and she pulls away her trembling hands. Harry pays no attention to that though. Instead, he takes her head in both of his hands and leans down to catch her lips. 

The nerves that once flooded her chest are far gone as their legs tangle underneath the sheets. Aurora can’t think of anything but the way his bare skin feels against hers. Her, well his, t shirt is slightly hiked up past her hips after Harry’s hands slide underneath to roam her skin, fingers pressing into the fleshy parts of her hips. Aurora pushes him on to his back, lips never losing contact and their hips melting into each other. Harry’s hands rarely stop moving, exploring the newly found bareskin on her back, under her shirt. 

They slow down eventually, both of them too tired to continue their movements. Aurora’s head rests on Harry’s chest. Sleep comes quickly after they share a lazy kiss one last time for the night. 

Aurora startles herself awake a few hours later. She’s still not used to waking up in new places and this happens often every night. Harry must feel her move, there’s no way he couldn’t with the way their bodies are tangled together. He doesn’t wake, or at least doesn’t wake enough to say anything or rustle the sheets at all. He does squeeze around her waist a bit tighter, bringing Aurora back closer to his chest. She lets out a soft sigh before falling back asleep, breathing in time with Harry’s slow heartbeat that taps against her back. 

Thanks for reading !!!! comments & feedback ALWAYS welcome & reblogs help a TON. LOVE YOU MEAN IT. 

[thedenimdentist]

Role Club Engineers: Worth the Wait?

Introduction (Part I): History of Engineer Boots

Engineer boots are definitely a polarizing style of footwear within the heritage/amekaji boot community. For one, they utilize an ankle strap for fastening in lieu of laces, and second, their tall stovepipe shafts don’t integrate quite well with the slim tapered esthetic of modern denim/trousers. While often associated with motorcycles and bikers, engineer boots were actually designed as protective gear for firemen working on railway engines back in the 1930s. (Hence the name “engineers.”) Their minimal design and use of buckles over laces made them ideal for this line of work. The tall shafts provided protection for the lower leg, while the slip-on design allowed for quick removal should anything dangerous (such as hot coals or embers) slip down the shaft into the boot. This style of footwear lost some popularity following the introduction of lace-up combat boots during World War II, but would later be picked up by motorcyclists who found use of their insulating and protective features. (And there is your history lesson for the day, courtesy of Wikipedia. Lol)

Introduction (Part II): How I Got into Engineer Boots

I first got into more well-made boots back in early 2019. Like most boot n3wbs, I was completely infatuated by that lace-up service boot esthetic, and insisted on wearing them with the slimmest, most tapered denim I could find. My first boot purchase was (of course) a pair of Red Wing Iron Rangers, followed by three pairs of Truman service boots in pretty quick succession. That first summer was when I discovered @brianthebootmaker on Instagram and YouTube, and instantly fell in love with his Underdog design, which I later purchased in August 2019 and received in May 2020.

At that point in time, Brian’s popular Underdog boots fit perfectly within my slim service boot style. However, Brian’s most iconic boot pattern was (and is) definitely his engineer boots. I admit I wasn’t sold on them at first, but I was intrigued. Did they fit my wardrobe at all? Nope. Would they even fit under the 6.75” leg openings of my PBJ denim? LOL nah. Nevertheless, I found myself constantly going back to Brian’s Instagram page and browsing all the photos of his engineer boots. Eventually, I grew to really love the look of engineer boots, ultimately placing a second deposit with Brian for a pair of engineers in October 2019. I had no idea how I was going to fit them into my wardrobe, but I figured I’d make it work somehow. (Luckily, since then my denim preferences have actually shifted toward more relaxed cuts, just in time for the arrival of these engineers.)

The Ordering Process

For most customers purchasing online, Brian requires you to take a set of measurements on your own feet, which he uses to build your boots remotely. However, those lucky enough to live nearby can actually visit Brian’s shop in LA to be personally measured by the boot maker himself, as well as discuss any details or questions you have regarding your specific makeup. I was one of these lucky people who could actually visit him in person, and used those measurements to order two pairs of boots from him: first a pair of Underdogs, and now some engineers. Both pairs were built on different lasts (which I will discuss more later), and both fit perfectly. (For a more detailed summary of being measured in person, check out my previous review of my Role Club Underdogs.)

My Specifications

While you can’t really go wrong with any of Brian’s engineer makeups, I personally loved the design Brian designed for himself: brown CXL horsehide hand-finished black, a full leather outsole, and full woodsman heels. They definitely have a more western, cowboy, workwear vibe compared to most other engineer boots out on the market, but in my opinion these are one of the best patterns, with some of the cleanest construction to boot.

A few screenshots I took of Brian's engineer boots, taken off his Instagram.

I did make a few tweaks/upgrades from Brian’s boots when designing my own, which I’ve listed below:

Model: engineer boots

Shaft height: 10”

Upper leather: brown Italian vegtan horsebutt, hand-finished black

Toe track: yes

Upper stitching: black

Hardware: brass roller buckles

Last: 2307 last

Unstructured toe

Edge finish: black

Welt stitching: white

Sole: full leather sole, black heel cap

Heel style: full woodsman heel

Metal toe plates

Custom built-in orthotics (same as my Underdogs)

One of the biggest reasons I keep going back to Brian is that he’s able to use the orthotics I typically slip into all my footwear and actually build them into the insoles of my boots. Not sure how difficult this actually is for a boot maker, but Brian has absolutely nailed the fit on my ugly feet both times, and it’s super convenient to not have to worry about a removable orthotics.

Price, Lead Time, & Shipping

The initial deposit to reserve a pair of Role Club boots is $200 regardless of which model you are ordering, with the remaining balance due upon completion. I visited Brian’s shop in Los Angeles on 8/21/2019 and placed my deposit on 10/15/2019, with an estimated completion date of November 2020. However, due to delays in construction (including waiting for my custom metal toe plates to come in), my boots weren’t actually completed until 3/25/2021 (nearly five months late). Inconvenient, but it’s not like I was wearing boots and going out much anyway due to COVID.

When I placed my first deposit for my Underdogs in August 2019, the estimated wait time was just 8 months (April 2020). However, when I placed my second deposit for these engineers just two months later, the wait time had jumped to 13 months (November 2020). To be honest, I’m not even sure how long Brian’s queue is now. Last I heard it was sometime in 2023 or 2024. (Freaking insane. So thankful I placed my second deposit when I did, before his waitlist exploded.)

At the time I placed my deposit, the base price for Brian’s engineer boots was $1350. After a few upgrade fees (hand-finished leather, toe plates, etc.), the final price of my specific makeup was $1500. Minus my initial $200 deposit, my final payment for these engineers was $1300 + $20 shipping. I made this payment via Venmo on 3/26/2021, my boots were shipped the following Monday 3/29/2021, and I received them via USPS on 4/2/2021.

At $1500, these are not a cheap pair of boots by any means. However, for engineer boots this price is actually not unreasonable, as there are some other brands selling engineer boots at a higher price point in stock sizes with limited to no customization (i.e., Clinch). #perspective #itsallrelative (To be completely honest, I roll my eyes when people scoff at a pair of boots in this price range, claiming they’re “too expensive” or that they can’t afford it, and turn around and buy 2-3 pairs of average Vibergs instead. Just stop. Clearly it’s not the cost, it’s your personal values and priorities. #endrant lol (Also, not knocking Clinch or Viberg or anything. Just a few examples to prove a point.))

ANYWAYS. For those hesitant to commit to such an ungodly wait time, I will point out that the cost to reserve a pair of Role Club boots is just $200, regardless of which model you are ordering. In fact, you don’t even need to finalize your order at the time of deposit. You can continue to brainstorm, change your mind, and discuss with Brian about your specifications long after the deposit is placed. (I mean, you have like 2-3 years before he even starts working on your boots anyway, so you have ample time to decide. Haha) Also, should you decide you can’t wait that long (or you suddenly become more financially responsible, lol), I hear you can also use that $200 deposit for something else more affordable, such as a resole of another pair of boots. Either way, hopefully this knowledge makes the $200 deposit a little less daunting and scary of a commitment.

Unboxing

The boots arrived in a single standard shoe box enclosed in a standard plastic shipping bag. There was zero padding included, so the box did arrive with some dents and dings. Inside the box, each boot was slipped inside an individual clear plastic sleeve. Unlike most other brands, no extra padding, tags, or shoe bags were included. Just the boots. (Though, they are some freaking amazing boots. Lol)

“HFB” for Hand Finished Black.

360 Degree View

The 2307 Last

When trying to pick a last for these engineers, I was debating between his 1940s last and the 2307 last. Ultimately I picked the 2307, mostly because it had a lower toe bump. I do think that his 1940s last is his most popular for engineers, and the toe bump really doesn’t make too big of a difference once the unstructured toe collapses. (For a more in-depth summary of all the lasts/toe shapes Role Club toe has available, I will link you to Brian’s YouTube video.)

Profile views of both the 1940 and 2307 lasts. Notice the more pronounced toe bump on the 1940 last in comparison to the 2307.

I had my Underdogs built on Brian’s 100 last, which typically has a significantly slimmer, almond toe shape in comparison to the 2307 last. However, due to my awkwardly wide feet and bunions, the MTM 100 last ended up not being too dissimilar from my MTM 2307 last. I definitely like the 2307 more, as the outer sweep of the toe box has a more angular, elegant curve in comparison to my 100 last, which kinda just looks like a thumb.

As you can see, my Underdogs were supposedly built on the 100 last, but ended up being way more rounded than expected (which I’m happy about).

The Leather

Brian most often sources his leather from the Horween Tannery, specifically CXL horsehide and shell cordovan. Brian used brown CXL horsehide hand-finished black for his own pair of engineer boots, which has aged incredibly. Personally, I tend to opt for vegtan leathers whenever possible, as it’s more environmentally friendly and in my opinion tends to build a nicer patina than chrome tanned or combination tanned leathers. Luckily, Brian happened to have some brown Italian horsebutt lying around his shop that he was willing to offer me. At the time, Brian didn’t remember the tannery from which he sourced the horsebutt (which, according to him, no longer exists), but he was able to send me a few photos. I immediately said yes.

A few photos of another pair of engineers Brian made in the same Italian brown horsebutt. Loved the depth of color...which I had painted over. lol

I was hesitant at first to have Brian hand-paint black dye over this beautiful brown leather. However, I was pretty set on getting some classic black engineers, and I trusted that the black dye would slowly fade away in high abrasion areas, resulting in a beautiful black-brown pseudo-tea core finish. For horsebutt leather, there actually isn’t too much visible grain/marbling within the leather). It has a fairly smooth, consistent finish, which I don’t mind at all. Also, I can already see some browns peeking through, which gives me hope as to how the black dye will chip away as these boots break in.

Some of the brown undertones can already be seen beneath the black dye, which is most apparent on the vamps.

The Pattern & Stitching

I absolutely love Brian’s take on engineer boots. His pattern works perfectly with his lasts, creating a very well balanced, properly proportioned boot that looks just as good sitting on a shelf as it does on foot.

To my understanding, all of the boots in the Role Club Collection are branded with the same two markings: an embossed logo on the left boot and a sewn-on tag on the right.

The back stay is simple and clean. No extravagant stitch patterns or anything, just very clean, vertical lines. Nice, conservative, elegant. I like it.

I think of all the engineer boots I’ve seen on Instagram, the buckles Brian uses are some of my favorite. Flat, rectangular, roller buckles. Again, nothing gaudy. Some other brands choose to use more elaborate, bulbous buckles on their engineer boots, which kinda just look out of place. Maybe they’re too eye-catching, making it seem like they’re trying too hard. In contrast, Brian’s simple flat buckles are clean and minimal, allowing the pattern and construction quality of the boots speak for themselves. Less is more.

In general, I tend to like the look of 3-4 rows of stitching as opposed to just two. It just looks more substantial and sturdy. (Does it actually increase the quality or longevity of the boot? Probably not. I just like how it looks.) Also, can we take a moment to appreciate just how absolutely pristine this upper stitching is?

Perhaps my preference for 3-4 rows of stitching stems from my appreciation for higher levels of craftsmanship when it comes to boot pattern and construction. Having additional rows of stitching all perfectly spaced and parallel requires a little more attention to detail, and it looks amazing when properly executed.

2, 3, and 4 rows of stitching, all equally dense, evenly spaced, and perfectly parallel. Perfect execution. I haven’t found a single stitch out of place on the uppers of either boot.

Another little feature I opted to include on my boots were hand-crimped toe tracks running up the vamps of each boot. To be honest, I didn’t know too much about why it’s done or it’s benefits. However, here is an explanation I found on superfuture from Brian himself, posted by @beautiful_FrEaK:

The indentation you see on the boots is called a toe track. The reason a boot has a toe track is because the vamp went through the crimping process. It is used to get all the stretch out of the vamp because when a bootmaker needs to turn something that's 2D into 3D it is more work if the vamp is not crimped. Another benefit when a vamp is crimped is it keeps the vamp smooth without any wrinkles. The crimped vamp sits well on the shoe last.

There are different way to crimp a vamp. For example Buco puts their vamps into a crimp machine. It is a hot blade that folds the vamp in half and indents the leather. I wouldn't mind having a crimp machine (really expensive!) but I use crimp boards at the moment. It is the same process but more hands on. I last the vamp on a piece of board to get all the stretch out and it naturally gets the toe track.

Personally, I mostly chose to have the toe track for esthetic purposes, but understanding the reasoning behind it is pretty cool too.

The Heel

Unlike my Underdog boots, which have a low woodsman heel, I decided to go all out with the full woodsman heel on these engineers. I will admit, walking with such elevated heels will take some getting used to. It also definitely adds to the whole western cowboy boot vibe, but I dig it. Plus, the added lift makes me over 6 feet tall now. Added bonus.

The Sole

This is my first pair of boots with a full leather sole. Felt a bit risky putting it on such an expensive pair of boots, but whatever. They look great on Brian’s pair, so I wasn’t too worried. Plus, I live a pretty sedentary lifestyle in the California Bay Area. I don’t go on many nature hikes, nor does it ever snow here (or rain really, for that matter). Thus, I don’t really have a need for much grip or traction with my footwear.

The sole channel stitching is all pretty clean, minus one little wonky spot on the inside portion of the right boot (pictured above in the top left corner). Not a big deal though, as no one is ever gonna see it.

My biggest concern with full leather soles was the reduced durability/longevity from walking on concrete, specifically at the toe. To combat this, I asked Brian to add metal toe plates to my boots to prevent premature wear at the toe. Crisis averted.

Here’s a close up of one of the toe plates, cut into the leather sole as to be nice and flush. Apparently these had to be custom ordered to accommodate for the width of my foot, adding 4-5 months to my wait time. Meh. Worth the wait in my opinion, if it meant getting it done right.

The Welt Stitching

Similar to my Underdogs, the welt stitching on these engineers is all very clean and consistent. If I were to point out anything, it’d be that a little bit of black edge dye got on the white stitching in some areas, and there’s a small tuft of loose thread ends popping out on the inside of the left boot. However, if these are the biggest errors I could find on the whole boot, I think that’s pretty amazing.

If you look closely, you can see the spots where some of the black edge coat got onto the white welt stitching. Not the cleanest, but doesn’t bother me too much.

Here’s the small tuft of loose threads at the end of one of the 270 degree welt stitches. Again, very minor, and won’t keep me up at night.

Try On & Initial Thoughts

Being completely honest, I’m actually still blown away at how amazing these boots feel on foot. I can really tell that these boots were made to measure. I shouldn’t be surprised though, as the Underdogs Brian made for me last year fit amazingly. Although, being lace-up boots that can by cinched down with laces, they naturally are less prone to fit errors such as heel slip. Engineers, by comparison, are much more difficult to fit properly, but Brian did so masterfully. 

First of all, right out of the box I actually had very little trouble getting the boots on and off. I feel like this is often the biggest struggle in breaking in a new pair of engineer boots, but not this time. Sliding my foot down the shaft felt appropriately snug, until my heel snapped past the “pass line” and sucked down into the heel cup. (I actually didn’t even need to unbuckle the strap to get them on, which was double surprising.)

Once fully seated, I could feel the built-in leather-lined orthotics beneath my feet, and the adjusted width of the 2307 last comfortably fit my bunions. What I’m most shocked by is how little heel slip I have in either boot. Until now, I had just assumed that heel slip was to be expected with all engineer boots, and only with break in and wear would that slip maybe go away. Apparently I was wrong, as these engineers already exhibit less heel slip than some of my other boots and derbies.

In designing these engineers, I chose to try out a couple things for the first time: first full leather soles, and first full woodsman heels. I know it’s still early, but I’m already loving the full leather soles. They seem to breathe much more than half and full rubber soles, and they flex and move much more naturally with the movements of my feet. I feel as though I can “feel the ground” better, if that makes sense. I will admit that I can definitely tell these leather soles have significantly less traction than rubber/cork half/full soles. However, I knew that from the get go, so me and my sedentary lifestyle are completely fine with it. I haven’t slipped yet, so it’s all good. Second, the full woodsman heels on these engineers are by far the tallest heels of any boot I own, yet once on foot, I can barely even tell the difference. Even with the steep drop off from the full woodsman heel to the leather sole, walking felt completely natural.

The last thing I’d like to note is how nicely the Italian horsebutt is breaking in. I know it’s still early, but so far all the leather on the vamps and shafts seem to be nice and tight with very little grain break or creasing. Loose grain and unsightly creasing are definitely some of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to boots, so props to Brian on absolutely killing it on the clicking. (At least so far.) I can’t wait to see how this leather continues to break in, and for the black hand-paint to chip away to reveal that beautiful brown horsebutt underneath.

If I had to pick out one spot that may require a little extra break-in, it would be the top rim around the shafts of the boot. They bounce around while I walk, knocking and banging into my shins. I expect this is probably true for most engineer boots, but hopefully this break-in period doesn’t take too long, cuz it doesn’t feel great. Until then, maybe I’ll just have to rock some longer tube socks as shin padding.

(Note: I do my best to remain impartial and objective in all of my reviews. That being said, it was difficult not to sound like some fanboy trying to sell you on a pair of Role Clubs, but this really my honest opinion. I really just love these boots. Lol)

Conclusion

If you couldn’t tell already, I’m absolutely through the roof with regards to these new engineers. The construction quality and level of finishing are pristine, and the comfort and fit out of the box is surprisingly on point. In my opinion, I think Brian and Clinch design two of the most beautiful engineer boots (on Instagram, at least), yet at the same time they exhibit two totally different vibes. Brian’s engineers draw from more rugged, western, cowboy influences, while Clinch engineers are a bit more refined, fitting very nicely within the whole Japanese workwear esthetic. Both styles are very cool, with some of the highest quality construction available.

A comparison of Role Club (top) and Clinch (bottom) engineers, both new and worn. (Photo credit: top left: me, top right: @brianthebootmaker​, bottom left: @bsw_keisuke, bottom right: @partial2vintage.)

While I’ve barely owned these for a week, and already I can confidently say that these are one of my favorite pairs in my collection. With such a beautiful pattern and solid construction, I could pick them up and stare at them all day. Also, not gonna lie, the fact that Role Clubs are so difficult to come by these days does make me feel even cooler for owning a pair. Haha

Anyway, I’ll try to write a follow up review once these are more broken in. Until then, you can follow along my journey breaking in these engineers through my instagram (@thedenimdentist). Ttfn!

[bitcoinedgereview]

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1. To enroll you'll have to enter straightforward subtleties like your name, email address and secret phrase. The sign-up measure will not take in excess of a couple of moments. Record your secret key and put it some place safe so you remember it.

2. Subsequent to entering your secret phrase, you'll be taken to the exchanging stage. Here you should stack your record with reserves. We suggest a base beginning measure of $250 dollars to utilize the exchanging bot.

3. After you've tapped on the store button, you'll be taken to a controlled financier firm site where you can put aside the installment utilizing Visa, Mastercard, and so on

4.Once your record is stacked, you can start auto-exchanging. There are a large group of digital forms of money to browse. This stage gives you the opportunity to make however many exchanges as you like at some random time.

5. All you'll have to do from here is to set up your record every day for auto-exchanging.

This requires just couple of moments of your time.

6. Make sure to practice alert and not to be excessively rushed. Albeit the exchanging bot has a high achievement rate, it's consistently conceivable to have an excessive number of exchanges dynamic simultaneously.

Many have rushed to guarantee that crypto is unsafe business, however with the correct instruments set up, it's really conceivable to procure well past what conventional dealers accomplish.

Additionally, there is no should be a specialist in cryptographic money exchanging. The innovation in Bitcoin Edge deals with itself leaving you to approach your day without checking exchanging graphs at regular intervals.

This bot has the correct innovation set up, it is a natural stage, and it requires little client input.

It is an energizing choice for exchanging crypto, regardless of whether you're a novice or master in the crypto-circle. Since Bitcoin is so unpredictable, it is both dangerous and beneficial. To limit hazard and assurance benefit, enormous information calculations are vital for progress.

Try not to be abandoned. Secure a piece of things to come today with the best huge information exchanging bot available.

Bitcoin Edge Review: Can this Trading Bot Help You Stack Bitcoin Edges?

It is safe to say that you are considering exchanging cryptographic money markets? We don't fault you; it's a productive endeavor on the off chance that you hit the nail on the head.

Nonetheless, the watchword here is "If."

Most new merchants wind up losing cash, and some even wind up getting an edge require a few thousand dollars more than they had in their records.

Why face the challenge exchanging in case you're new?

With Bitcoin Edge, you dispose of your danger as another merchant. This exclusive exchanging bot gives you the edge you need to prevail in crypto exchanging.

What Is Bitcoin Edge?

Bitcoin Edge is your answer for exchanging the crypto markets as a beginner. You get a hands-off exchanging experience and the opportunity to acquire enormous benefits.

This exchanging bot rushes exclusive exchanging innovation to speed up your exchanging achievement, presenting to you the outcomes you need.

How Might I Make Money Trading with Bitcoin Edge?

You need a system on the off chance that you need to bring in cash in the crypto commercial center. The issue is that it requires months, perhaps years, to back-test, demonstrate, and effectively figure out how to exchange a procedure. We're speculating you don't have that sort of time to burn, correct?

Without a methodology, you're not going to be predictable with executing your exchanges, and it resembles cruising adrift with a wrecked pole – you go with the course of the sea, which frequently isn't the place where you need to wind up at.

With Bitcoin Edge, you will avoid that expectation to absorb information. Bitcoin Edge offers you a robotized exchanging system, back verified to work in genuine business sectors.

For what reason Should I Trade with Bitcoin Edge?

Would you like to make crazy benefits with your exchanging? Or on the other hand would you like to wind up exploding your record? We definitely know your answer – no one needs to explode their record. Shockingly, losing all your cash in your exchanging account is a typical encounter for new brokers.

On the off chance that you don't suffer a heart attack, you're playing with the crypto markets' creature spirits. Subsequently, you may attempt to enter an exchange and discover you win – large. Priggish with your new exchanging abilities, you attempt it again and go greater this time – all things considered, the business sectors just go up, correct?

Abruptly, there an inversion in the value activity, and the graph begins falling. Sadly, there's no liquidity in the market in light of the fact that nobody needs to get a falling blade. Therefore, you're stuck in the exchange, and you watch your record begin to dissipate as the value activity plunges.

Try not to be that person. Abstain from committing beginner errors with your exchanging and start on the correct foot with your record.

With Bitcoin Edge Review , you remove the exertion and hazard from exchanging. The bot utilizing an exclusive calculation to search for A-quality arrangements on the lookout. In the wake of recognizing the arrangement and the danger to-remunerate. The bot at that point consequently puts the exchange, executing the purchase request in nanoseconds.

You get quicker fills, and better executions, with less slippage on your exchanges, and the outcome is greater benefits.

How Might I Start with Bitcoin Edge?

Beginning with Bitcoin Edge is straightforward. Explore o the authority site and complete your enrollment. Subsequent to entering your data, the site prompts you to interface with one of its favored merchants.

Bitcoin Edge is definitely not a merchant or trade – it's an exchanging bot. To run the bot, you need an exchanging stage. Your agent gives the exchanging stage, and Bitcoin Edge goes about as an extension between the merchant and the market, dealing with the exchanges for you.

When joining with a dealer, you set aside your installments and withdrawals through them, not through Bitcoin Edge. Bitcoin Edge is just your unmistakable advantage for exchanging achievement. Consider it overhauling the micro processor in your vehicle. You improve execution and more out of the experience.

It's the equivalent with Bitcoin Edge – you get a hands-off crypto exchanging experience that produces extraordinary outcomes.

What Trading Performance Do I Get with the Bitcoin Edge Trading Bot?

Bitcoin Edge is the result of a very long time of designing. Designers went through months back-testing techniques to track down the correct recipe for the exclusive Bitcoin Edge calculation. The outcome is a viable mechanized procedure that conveys results.

As per information, Bitcoin Edge accompanies an exactness rating of 97%. The bot hangs tight for the correct arrangements prior to executing exchanges to assist it with making this astonishing progress rate. The bot just works with arrangements that convey a high danger to-compensate proportion. Therefore, your victors are greater, and your failures are little.

That is the mysterious recipe for exchanging achievement – keep the washouts little, and let the victors run. Bitcoin Edge does precisely that, and it shows in your record balance.

Bitcoin Edge will not burn through it's time exchanging arrangements that are not A-quality. It doesn't consume your record stirring bonuses. All things being equal, it chooses the perfect exchanges at the perfect time, enhancing its odds of an effective result.

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