#can you tell it’s been a second since i’ve done an actual illustration

[metrixnos]

(WIP) i like the reflection in the gold crown :]

#dsmp #philza minecraft #ice king #can you tell it’s been a second since i’ve done an actual illustration #i don’t know why im struggling sm with this lol #maybe should’ve thumbnailed more #oh well #too late for that #i’ve committed

[zmediaoutlet]

for the Bro Bone Bang, bc I had an afternoon free and why not, and isn't that in the spirit of bro boning, really?

rating: E length: 3100 tags: Established Relationship, Post-Episode: s10e06 Ask Jeeves, Face-Fucking

summary: Sam's looking for an old book; Dean's looking for a distraction.

for the @brobonebang prompt: in a dusty occult bookshop

***

“Dude, what is taking so long? I think I’m spontaneously developing asthma down here.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Sam says, but absently, because he’s paging through this book and—this might actually be the real thing, he’s thinking. A lot of it’s gibberish and there’s a lot of really fanciful business about dancing under the moonlight in the altogether (along with illustrations, which he really can’t show Dean or he’ll never get the book back), but some of these demon-summoning sigils look legit, and if those are legit then maybe this part, this part toward the back where the writing gets more serious—

“I’ve got the black lung,” comes Dean’s voice, a whole lot closer, and a hand settles on Sam’s lower back at the same time that he jerks, feeling caught somehow. Dean coughs, high and fake and pathetic, his flashlight pointed up toward his chin like a horror story. He mimes big sad eyes for a half-second and then smiles at Sam, perfectly irritating. “You know, that movie wasn’t half-bad.”

“If you ever say blue steel again it’ll be too soon,” Sam says, half-hiding the book. He doesn’t know why—Dean’s not interested.

Dean narrows his eyes at him, makes a half-hearted version of that stupid face, and then swings his flashlight up through the hanging crystals and the overly-gilt mirrors and the dusty bookshelf Sam’s been raiding, because on their way back from Connecticut he remembered a note in the Letters’ archive about an occult shop outside Trenton that had been a real marketplace, at least back in the ‘40s, and at this point Sam’s in the market for absolutely anything that will get that foul sore thing off of Dean’s arm.

Not, again, that Dean’s interested: “Can we go? I don’t know why you need more of this crap, not like we don’t have enough back home.”

“Why are you so antsy?” Sam says. He shoves the book into his bag, along with a few other odds and ends he’s picked up. Dean was playing with a huge brass-engraved magnifying glass downstairs—it’d be a good surprise, for when they get home, if he can pick it up without Dean noticing. Dean’s slow to answer and Sam zips up his backpack, turns around, finds Dean twirling the flashlight back and forth in his hands, making a weird zigzag pattern on the dusty carpet. “Dude, seriously. You’re like a little kid with a sugar rush.”

Or a murder-addict who’s just done a murder, his brain supplies.

Dean lifts a shoulder, sets the flashlight down on a table filled with faux-magical dreck—pointed up, like Sam’s, so that their little nook up here is filled with a thin barely-there light. “Want to get home,” he says. Surprisingly sincere. “I don’t know. Been a while. And—” He bites his lip, flash of white teeth in the dark. Sam raises his eyebrows, and Dean lifts a shoulder again. “Well, it was—kinda weird. Everybody knew we were brothers. Felt like—best behavior required, you know, when I just wanted to tell those cougar broads how big your dick really is.”

Sam blinks. Dean smiles at him, wide as a shark. “Wow,” he says, flat, “so—not a sugar rush but more of a—”

“A dick rush is totally a thing,” Dean says, crowding in, and Sam holds up his hands but just in surprise, really. He’s caught between the bookshelf and a curio cabinet with all manner of weird taxidermied birds and ugly cameos of people long-dead and Dean’s thigh sliding warm and easy along his, his hands on Dean’s chest and then on Dean’s waist, Dean immediately and thoroughly here, the smell of him, his heat. Feels like he burns hotter, since getting the mark.

Sam isn’t actually turned on by books in dead languages, no matter what Dean says, but with all this in his arms he’s getting there. Dean murmurs, “Maybe it’s a ball rush,” and he snorts, and Dean pushes his nose up against the bolt of Sam’s jaw and breathes out hot along his neck and whispers, “or a jizz rush, you think? All hopped up on your spooj?” and Sam groans, pinches Dean’s side, feels Dean’s mouth stretch into a grin against the hollow of his throat, and then he kisses there, and Sam gets a hand in his hair, feels it. Nice. Sweet, but then there’s teeth against his collarbone and it’s less sweet, and his dick really does start to wake up, then, a warm surge from his balls to his guts, Dean’s hair soft against the underside of his chin, Dean’s hands creeping up under his flannel, scratching through his undershirt.

“Thought the whole point was you didn’t get any,” Sam manages, and Dean hums against his throat, where he’s reapplied his mouth, with a hint of teeth. “Can’t be a jizz rush if you haven’t gotten some, right? Don’t you dare give me a hickey.”

“Like you wouldn’t love it,” Dean says, with enough of an edge that Sam’s eyes open again onto the half-dark, surprised—turned on—hard to tell, at this point. He does bite, but only a quick sharp nip, and Sam grips him by the freshly-cut hair, pulls him back, looks down, and Dean’s smiling, lazy, wide. His eyes are so dark they almost, almost look—but then Dean turns his head and Sam catches the white edge and his heart restarts, and thumps heavier in his throat, his fingertips cold, his dick—yeah, he’s interested.

“What are you thinking?” Sam says. He drags a hand down Dean’s chest, feels the soft of it, his giving skin. Only been a week or so, since they finished up that job with Kate and did quite a bit of celebrating—it should be easy to wait, but. Dean comes in against his throat again, pressing against him full-body, and Sam maybe sees what Dean means, about the rush. There’s a motel that they were vaguely heading toward before they broke in here, but maybe they could get one a little closer.

“I’m thinking,” Dean says, soft, “how that table could probably hold our weight,” and Sam gets a chance to say, what, before Dean drags him bodily backwards, and they stagger two steps with Sam matching Dean’s strides before Dean’s ass hitches up against the table and—it shifts a good four inches but holds, against the carpet, and some overpriced glass thing goes crashing over the edge, but who cares because Dean’s getting his legs around Sam’s hips and dragging Sam down over the top of him by his hair and Sam barely catches his weight on the table but then he’s kissing Dean, so everything else seems kind of secondary, at that point.

Dean kisses—fiercer, now. Wanting more, now. Sam thinks he knows why and it should worry him but it’s frankly hot as fuck, and he gets a grip on Dean’s hip and gives as good as he gets, biting Dean’s bottom lip and making him groan, smearing his mouth along Dean’s jaw, biting there—hard pressure between them, Dean’s nails dragging against his neck, heat rising. Fuck—yeah, it’s good, Dean wanting him this badly. Like those first heady days, a decade ago, when they were scared and young and hurting and only this made it better, except now—

“I will pay you ten dollars if you suck my dick,” Dean says, and Sam laughs, goes for his belt right away, says, “Little low, don’t you think?” while he crushes his crotch right up against Dean’s, grinding through the double-layer of denim, and Dean blinks at him all stupid and doesn’t seem to know how to let Sam’s hair go, his thighs clenching around Sam’s hips. Sam grins at him, takes another taste of his mouth—hot, absurdly plush—whispers against his lips, “Buy me dinner, at least,” and breaks Dean’s hold to slide down his body and haul his jeans and boxers down the requisite distance and Dean’s dick slaps up against his stomach—christ, he really is hard, has been—maybe was getting hot for it downstairs, dicking around while Sam was trying to work, and Sam goes down on his knees while Dean pushes up on the table—some heavy curio sliding off and slamming into the carpet—and Sam doesn’t waste time, knows Dean’s dick and knows what he likes and spits on him, slicks it down with a fist, following right away with an open, soft mouth, gets Dean to groan like he’s been shot, gets him to give it up.

Yeah—better now, so much better than when they were younger. Sam’s only ever blown this dick and at this point he’s familiar with its behavior. Just the taste is good: bitter, always, because Dean’s diet is appalling, but the salt, the slight sweat—yeah, it’s good. Sam screws down to the base, knowing how to open right up, and Dean yelps, his hips arching, his thigh jerking against Sam’s shoulder. Sam lets him. He can hold Dean down but it’s more fun to have him all body-shock, sweating and staggered, helpless to whatever Sam wants to do to him. He releases the head from his throat with a gasp, lets the gooey spit track down as he slides his lips along the shaft, holding it in a loose grip while he licks firmly at Dean’s balls, dragging his tongue between them, almost-harsh in a way that Dean pretends he doesn’t like but always makes his dick spit wet.

“Christ alive,” Dean says, faint up above, and Sam smiles. He sucks in one nut, careful but not too careful, and Dean curls forward over him, groaning, gripping Sam’s hair hard enough that it really pulls. Another little pulse in Sam’s gut. He breathes through the noise he can’t help, drags soft teeth up the side of Dean’s shaft, goes back to work more seriously, shutting out the dust-smell and the worry that’s with him all the time these days and focusing on the fat soft sweetness of Dean’s cockhead under his tongue, the easy give of the slit when he drags his tongue through it, the way the ridge pops through his lips when he pulls all the way off, breathes hot over it, goes right back down. Dean came back from being a demon all clean-shaven, a bizarre surprise, but Sam likes it now, likes tracing over Dean’s soft skin and dragging his fingers down between Dean’s legs and finding him sweaty, bare, nothing between Sam and his goal.

Dean spreads his legs as wide as he can in his jeans, lets Sam play around. Sam nurses at the head of his dick, digs two knuckles hard into Dean’s taint and takes the drip of precome like a reward. Hard, low groan, and Dean cups the side of his head, fingers tangling in Sam’s hair, says, “Fuck, Sammy,” all thick and satisfied and admiring, too, like he forgot somehow that Sam would do this once a day if he could, like he doesn’t love every minute of getting Dean flat on his back and making him come so hard he forgets everything in the world that’s not this.

A shift, though—Dean’s thigh drags down Sam’s shoulder and he gets his boots back on the ground. His jeans slide down to his knees and Sam helps them along, enjoying the flex of Dean’s hamstrings, the pop of muscle in one quad when he shifts his weight. A hand on the back of his head, then—and one on his shoulder, keeping him close—and Dean feeds his dick all the way in, to the back of Sam’s throat, makes him cough—and he pulls back, lets Sam adjust, but he doesn’t let go. Sam blinks the tears away, looking up, and Dean’s looking right back at him, steady, mouth open and gleaming wet in the dim. Sam kneels up higher, palms Dean’s ass, takes a deep breath, and when Dean feeds in that time Sam takes him all the way to the base, nose ground against the shaved skin so tight he can feel the prickle of new growth, Dean’s ass flexing hard against his palms. Trying to get deeper. When Dean pulls out Sam gasps for air and says, raw, “Do it, come on—do it, if you’re going to—” and Dean shoves right back in, hard enough that Sam almost chokes, and he swallows and opens wide and pulls Dean in tighter, nails in his ass, and Dean laughs soft and high-wild up above him and says somewhere deep past the ringing in Sam’s ears you’re the best brother in the goddamn world, you know that? and then he fucks in, and Sam gives himself over to it, mindblanked, free.

Dean comes in his throat. He coughs and Dean ignores his coughing, crushes in deeper, groaning loud and keeping Sam ground down right against his crotch. Sam swallows, lightheaded, gripping Dean’s hips, and it’s not until Dean says fuck! and releases his hold on Sam’s hair that Sam can even taste him, thick and bitter and bleachy-familiar, this instant flush of absolute want thrumming through him the moment it registers. That flavor that’s meant Dean for a third of his life.

After coming Dean’s hands and thighs and knees are weak. Sam gets a hand on his wrist, knocks his legs out from under him, and he drops hard enough that it sounds like it hurts, but at this moment Sam doesn’t care, with his lips sore and his throat bruised—and Dean doesn’t care either, swaying against Sam as he gets to his feet, helping while Sam shoves his jeans out of the way, sliding boneless warmth over his hips, his waist, opening up easy for Sam’s dick, letting Sam slot it in past his throat in one quick slide. Fuck, the heat of him—the slick soft of him—his body so easy, opening up all around Sam, like it’s the only thing he’s wanted all day. The unaccustomed sharpness before is all gone and he takes Sam fucking into his throat like a doll, closing his lips and breathing heavy through his nose and looking up with this heavy-lidded addict’s gaze while Sam rides his face, his body loose, his skull heavy in Sam’s hands, his tongue fat and slick and everything about him the only thing, the only thing that makes it worth—the reason Sam—

Sam pulses, shuddering. He pulls out after the first furious flexing pump, creaming Dean’s throat and then jerking himself through the rest. Before he can pull away Dean kisses the head, takes a pump against his lips, and then his cheek when Sam slides his dick hot-eyed against his stubble, the prickle of it a spine-tingling jolt, Sam’s balls spasming and giving up another helpless spurt that jets across Dean’s cheekbone, gleaming in the dim.

“Lunatic,” Sam breathes, brain circling the drain, and Dean licks his fat lips and looks straight up at him and the jizz starts to drip, sliding into the hollow of his cheek, and Sam reaches down and hauls him up his jacket in one furious pull, drags him in against Sam’s body—they crash back against the curio cabinet and something smashes—and he licks in one broad swipe from the corner of Dean’s mouth to the corner of his eye, his own come saltier, strange—and Dean opens up easy when Sam feeds it right back into his mouth, kissing him deep, shoving in where Dean’ll have to swallow it.

Dean swallows. Sam presses their foreheads together, catching his breath, and Dean holds a flat hand against Sam’s chest, where his heart feels like he’s just coming down from a marathon. Their noses brush and Sam covers Dean’s hand. His breath slows, and the world comes back in like a lazy tide: the nine pm emptiness of the store; the smell of dust and cheap incense underlying the smell of sweat and come and warm end-of-day bodies; the way the carved edge of the cabinet might actually be doing something permanent to his kidney. He doesn’t want to move. Screw his kidney.

“How much magickal crap did we just break?” Dean says, soft against the edge of Sam’s jaw.

He doesn’t sound like he cares, much. Sam sighs. “We’ll leave Eleanora some cash.”

Dean huffs, and gets his other hand up against Sam’s chest, and pushes off with a groan. Sam’s eyes are well-adjusted enough that he can see every detail of Dean’s face. The crow’s feet, the easy relaxed curve of his mouth. Freckles, even, when they’re this close, and he lifts a hand and drags his thumb over Dean’s wet cheek, the skin tacky before it’s rough with growing beard. Dean looks back at him, steady. All his sharpness and frantic edge just… smoothed away, until he’s only Sam’s brother. The truest part.

Dean’s hand slides up to the side of his neck, squeezes softly. Heat at the back of Sam’s eyes, from nowhere, just from—how many times has Dean held him, just that way—and then Dean says, gentle, “My ass is getting cold here, man.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah,” he says, and the corner of Dean’s mouth lifts, and he ducks in and kisses Sam quick and close-lipped and then pushes entirely away to drag up his jeans. Sam zips up, redoes his belt, sitting still in the pool of warmth that feels like it’s issuing from somewhere around his breastbone. His head full, again, but only of—that last, best part. What counts, in the end, for everything.

“Damn,” Dean says, and Sam looks up to find him holding what looks like a pair of glass scales, cracked and refracting the light a hundred different ways. “I’m blaming you for that one.”

“Don’t even,” Sam says, and Dean smirks, but when they leave they pile the broken crap on the big old-fashioned cashier counter along with the four hundred bucks in cash they have between them. When Dean’s back is turned Sam slips the magnifying glass into his bag, too, and adds an extra twenty to the pile.

They re-lock the back door, re-arm the sad excuse for a security system. “Guess it was worth the pitstop after all,” Dean says, rocking on his heels in the damp alley.

“Guess so,” Sam says, thinking of the book in his bag. Cursed marks, damned souls.

Dean grins at him and it sparkles and that just hits Sam in the gut, like it always does, every time. “I’m thinking—a beer, and then we hit the motel in Wilmington, and in the morning we get those cinnamon rolls, you remember, at Sue-Ann’s? Big as your head, and that really is saying something?”

Sam sighs. “Sounds like a plan,” he says, and Dean says, “Awesome,” and Sam follows his brother to the car, loving him despite everything.

#wincest #bro bone bang #my writing #idk if it's kosher to do a link post and a full text at once but #whatever #it feels like so long that i've written a fic #i'm a rusty bitch! #anyway yes bros bone here bc they bone everywhere <3

[tanetime]

Can we know more about Winslow? :0

Sure! I was actually supposed to be working on a reference sheet for him for Art Fight, but I’ve been being lazy about it!!! I don’t have many illustrations so I’ll have to just subject you to WORDS WORDS WORDS.

You can have his final concept art though!

Winslow (his first name is Tony, but he won’t tell you that) is a police detective-turned-private investigator. He is a prodigy with a particular eye for detail and reading people that is supernaturally accurate, with the caveat being that he is completely unhinged. He has a knack for taking information, conjuring theories that make no sense, and managing to glean the truth from it somehow.

Despite being good at analysing people, he is atrocious socially and very few people can stand him. He’s intrusive and arrogant and just kind of smugly acts like he’s the smartest person in the room. 90% of the time he has the same stupid grin on his face. Nobody is sure whether or not he is secretly pretending to be stupid so that people let their guard down around him.

He is haunted by the guilt of a mistake he made during his career. Perhaps more literally than he’s aware of.

I have a lot more to say about his backstory and gameplay, but it is A LOT, so I’ll put it behind a readmore!

TW for some mild cartoony eye/body-horror.

Backstory infodumping

Prior to coming to the Constant, he worked alongside his identical twin brother, Tobin Winslow (first name basis encouraged), who was both 1. less intelligent 2. more normal than Winslow, and thus cursed with the Sisyphean punishment of dealing with his eccentricities whilst also being overshadowed by him. The two worked for the police, until Winslow became fascinated with a string of mysterious fires and disappearances that were happening. He decided to investigate them, and began by looking into the affairs of some people who really didn’t like that.

Tobin told him to stop, got ignored, and shortly afterwards went missing one night and was never seen again. In a rare display of wisdom, Winslow declared “well, fuck. big oof” and fled the state before whoever tried to kidnap him realised they got the wrong guy.

In the years since he has developed an irrational fear of the dark and a healthy paranoia that someone wants him dead. Due to reasons that could be summed up with ‘ACAB’ he started working alone as a PI dealing with missing person cases. The guilt surrounding his inability/failure to even attempt to figure out what happened to Tobin ate him up for a very long time until he attracted the attention of A Certain Someone.

That certain someone offered to help him find out who was responsible for Tobin’s disappearance, but, perhaps a little rashly, Winslow declared that he’d rather never know who was to blame – so long as the person responsible was haunted forever by what they had done.

Unfortunately, Tobin had a different idea as to who was ‘responsible’ for his death.

Aaaand here is Tobin! Or rather "what became of Tobin" or "what is left of Tobin after The Incident".

This art is pretty scruffy and unrefined since I wasn't used to drawing him - sorry!

The gist of what happened is that Maxwell atempted to weasel-word his way into taking both brothers into the Constant via the wording of Winslow's deal, except Winslow failed to mention the estranged brother he longed to reunite with was probably dead. So, Tobin ended up getting turned into a ghost and clumsily stapled to Winslow's body as a second, living shadow.

He is decidedly not happy about this, but this ain't about him.

Gameplay infodumping

‘Winslow’ as a playable character is actually both brothers together as a unit, and you swap between them.

Winslow himself is a very basic character with few perks. In a perfect world he’d have weird abilities like seeing enemy hp or not triggering traps.

Being haunted by his brother increases the damage he takes from shadow-sources and makes his sanity drain very quickly in the dark.

He starts with three items:

the Lamping Light, a torch that doubles as a weak weapon that does electric damage, so long as it has fuel.

the Thinking Cap, which reverses negative sanity auras for Winslow, but only keeps other survivors warm.

the Sleuthhound’s Slicker, a coat which protects you from wetness and allows you to move much faster if it is raining.

Winslow can swap to Tobin (and vice versa) via an ability similar to Wortox's Soul Hop, which makes you vanish as one character and reappear as the other.

Tobin is much frailer, but can do some weird things due to being a ghost. He is stronger in the dark and weakened by the light.

His ghost basically takes the form of his shoddily reanimated corpse, which was hacked up and dumped in some lake or river somewhere. As a result of this he’s a sopping wet beast and is always passively gaining wetness.

Winslow’s Thinking Cap and Sleuthhound Slicker actually change appearance and name when Tobin is holding them, and do different things, like stopping the wetness gain or allowing Tobin to function at full strength in the daytime.

I hate characters with items that render their penalties moot, but I like the idea of a character sacrificing armour in a fight to reach their full potential.

Infodumping Infodumping Infodumping

They are kind of the antithesis of Wendy and Abigail hahaha, although that wasn’t intentional.

Winslow being the more headstrong and confident twin, while Tobin was more reserved and cautious.

Tobin is now essentially soul-bound to Winslow the same way Abigail is bound to her flower, so he manifests through him and can’t leave. Due to the wording of the deal that brought Tobin back, Winslow’s incapable of realising Tobin is even there, so he kind of walks around with a second disjointed shadow leering at him ominously that he can’t see. (He gets asked about it pretty much every time he meets a new person, and thus has concluded that everyone in the Constant must be insane.)

Tobin has something of a vendetta against Winslow, but is a surprisingly normal and reasonable guy who doesn’t want to bother the other Survivors. He doesn’t cause much trouble - Winslow himself regularly gets up to worse! Most people do avoid him though, due to him being a weird dripping dribbly ghost with a weeping hole in his head.

He's still pretty cute though.

It’s different in their mod, but in-universe, Winslow tends to inadvertently swap places with Tobin whenever he is startled or faced with danger. So Tobin tends to take a bullet for him more often than not. It’s fine; he’s taken a bullet for him before!

I'm sorry this turned into more about Winslow and his brother and not just Winslow, but it's hard to talk about one without the other!

By the by, if it wasn't already opressively obvious by the gigantic wall of text: I love talking about my characters, so feel free to poke me about them - even if it's something minor.

#dont starve oc #dst oc #my ocs #tane t doodles #tane t art #tony winslow #tobin winslow #asks #i am sorry i talked for so long #i love this guy (plural) #tw mild body horror #tw mild eye horror

[emerald-flash]

AI Art exploits a dangerous vulnerability in the human brain

Have you ever looked up the definition of beauty? The dictionary will tell you that beauty is “a combination of qualities such as shape, color, or form that pleases the senses.” These qualities are context-sensitive, since a beautiful man or woman is a different sort of judgment from a beautiful bit of architecture or a beautiful view, but they do have their similarities and psychologists have done a lot of work to quantify those similarities.

I’ve been playing with Stable Diffusion, the AI “art generation” program that has artists and illustrators panicked, and rightly so as I fear it really will create a market of “mechanically produced” art every bit as meaningful as a grocery store frozen dinner is nutritious.

Stable Diffusion is a search engine for a “model”; a model is a file containing upwards of 8Gigabytes of tiny little bits of knowledge about all the pictures and text describing those pictures that have been fed into the search engine. The act of creating an image is known as “prompting”; the search engine takes the text of a prompt and a few internally generated random numbers and assembles images which, if fed back into the search engine, would probably have the same text as what you gave it.

Despite this randomness, Stable Diffusion is extremely popular with pornography hounds. There’s one obvious reason for this– with a little cleverness that has everything to do with patience and nothing to do with talent it can produce images that the viewer enjoys and that he would never actually commission in real life, either because he’s too cheap or because he wouldn’t want to share his particular kink with the rest of the world.

But there’s another, deeper reason Stable Diffusion is so popular with smut fans, and it’s about beauty.

For the human form, the two qualities that consistently rate high as “beautiful” are youth and health. There’s massive amounts of grey matter in our brains dedicated to identifying other people, and those two qualities spark responses in that grey matter like almost no other. This isn’t to say that if you’re an older person you can’t be beautiful, but if you are an older person and you’ve “let yourself go,” well, you’re not going to have other people giving you second glances for the pleasure of it.

Beauty in the wider world is also characterized by two seemingly contradictory features: repetition and novelty. The human brain wants to know that the world is orderly and functional and healthy, so it looks to see that there is rhythm and repetition, that a beautiful landscape is consistent and expected; it also wants to believe that it is natural and changing and still healthy, so it looks for the rigidity of artifice and the sharp angles of decay sticking out, and registers whether or not the organic novelty is a sign of growth and bounty.

It is this combination of youth, health, repetition and novelty that Stable Diffusion exploits to a degree never before seen. Feel free to click on the image to the right; there is no nudity in it, although there is skin and lingerie.

AIBot is a Stable Diffusion master who posts regularly to his account, and he understands this vulnerability better than any other. Some men just want to drown in the physical beauty of women and AIBot (and many, many, many others just like him) (warning: those links are probably NSFW) know it, enjoy it, and exploit the hell out of Stable Diffusion’s ability to create literal oceans of pretty girls so they can enjoy it and share that pleasure with others.

It is this ability to hit all the high points of the human brain’s expectation of “beauty” that makes AI image generation so compelling. We’ve all seen pretty people and watched them from time to time; Victoria’s Secret and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Annuals, not to mention Playboy, Penthouse, and all of their competitors were entirely financed by men’s urge to to do just that. What is new is the ability to create so much repetition and novelty on demand, fitting one’s fetishes and desires exactly, but with much more volume than any one artist or photographer would be willing to produce. It is a completely unprecedented phenomenon and this combination of being able to see your specialized desires in secret and generate an infinite amount of such images probably accounts for those people who describe themselves already as “addicted” to Stable Diffusion.

Now, I don’t want to go off on the idea that Stable Diffusion is a danger to human beings the way anti-pornography nuts like to depict it, saying “Never before in the history of mankind have we been exposed to so much nudity, and it’s bad for our brains.” I don’t believe that at all. I just think that when we read about AI illustration, we should be aware that the people producing those images are trying to hack our brains in new and interesting ways, and we should be aware that these exploits exist and think harder about indulging in them.

#ai art #ai art is art theft

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 17: Evening

Chapter 17: Evening

Note: Sorry for any mistakes. My editing software probably didn't catch them all, and I wrote this on my phone and it loves to willfully ignore what I just typed and automatically change words I’ve already typed as “editing” or even change words all together. Or I click on a word to change it and it doesn't change but removes itself from the list of errors. It’s madness. So yea, just a heads up for any obvious issues. I’m sorry!

(-~-)

Next to nothing had changed in the few minutes since the adjudicator had offered to answer his companions' questions.

Remaining at the table, the duo looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, continuing to eat their meals as they seemed to linger in a state of limbo. Sirrus seemed to consider everything that might be brought up, a palpable sense of discomfort radiating off of him at the very idea. He had volunteered, but that didn't mean that he was entirely comfortable with the notion. He simply realized that it was something that needed to be done in order to have any hope of things returning to normalcy between them. And V? Well, he wasn't even entirely sure where to start. He had so many questions that he could ask that he wasn't sure which ones were worth actually delving into. Which ones could be seen as offensive? Which ones might burn bridges between them. But after a few minutes of eating in awkward silence with nothing but the clicking of utensils against ceramic dishes and the quiet chugging of the train to keep them company, he decided to start small. That was the wisest thing he could do given the litany and breadth of the options presented to him.

"Well, we can start with last night." V said, finishing the remainder of his food before speaking. He might indulge in a bagel and perhaps a second cup of tea at some point in the future, but for now he had finished everything on his plate. "What happened to you? I remember you telling me that the moon had a strange effect on you, but what I saw last time was nothing like the first time."

"You're quite right. Normally it doesn't affect me as severely as it did last night. I'm still weak from the injuries I sustained against Agreus. I may seem physically fine, but as you can tell, I'm only now regaining certain facets of my power." Sirrus raised a few locks of his long locks out of his left eye to illustrate his point, obviously pointing out the shift in the color. V had noticed this previously and had been working under the assumption that his powers had at least mostly recovered since he had told him that overuse of his abilities had drained the pigment from his hair in the first place, but now he knew definitively that that was the case. But that in of itself raised a different question for the young summoner.

"Are you alright?" V said softly, the concern in his eyes prevalent. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that this entire situation had been a stressful ordeal for him, but at the same time, he wanted to make sure that his companion was all right. He had never feared for his life, but he had feared for Sirrus's well-being. He knew that his friend would not willingly put him in danger, especially without telling him. That had been something he had never doubted. But coming to the realization that he was still operating in a weekend state was something that came as something of a surprise to him. He himself was still not in the best shape, but he was confident that should he need to, he could hold his own in a fight at the moment. And while he was certain that Sirrus could, too, he got the impression that it would take a larger toll on him. 

Why did his friend's power take so much longer to restore itself than his own did?

Sirrus gave him a soft look, nodding as he blinked slowly. That tiredness that he had carried with him since he had awoken after his extended state of unconsciousness lingered in his eyes, but he was willing to believe his friend's nonverbal confirmation. He might not be in the best condition at the moment, but that didn't mean he wasn't all right. It just meant that he needed more time to fully recover. "I am. Thank you. Your concern is flattering, but I will manage. And I'm sure you have other questions."

"I do. A few, in fact. The first of which being why your powers seem to take so long to return to you in full. I cannot be fully certain that I've recovered just yet, but you seem to be a bit behind me." Realizing that that might come off as passive-aggressive, the young summoner took a moment to reassure his friend that that wasn't what he meant. He knew that he wouldn't be offended by it more than likely since they had just gone over that fact, but he still felt the instinctive need to clarify. It was simply who he was. "No offense meant. I'm simply baffled."

Sirrus took a sip of his tea, his eyes betraying the state of deep thought that he was in. He seemed to be considering the best way to word something, or perhaps weighing the merits of what all he should reveal. But after making direct eye contact with the V for a long lingering moment, he closed his eyes and swallowed his drink, setting the cup aside. There was no getting around it, and no compelling reason as to why he shouldn't just say what he knew he needed to say. He trusted V. Implicitly. There was no point in keeping it a secret anymore. It was time to explain things in a bit more depth.

"Can you keep a secret?" He said, his tone clearly serious despite the obvious answer to that question. Both he and V knew that the young devil-hunting summoner with the white hair could indeed keep a secret. He'd kept several of his own and quite literally taken them to the grave. No one was getting anything out of him until he decided they should know it. But perhaps Sirrus just needed to hear him say it one more time to ease his own nerves. It was clear that whatever he was about to reveal was deeply personal, and V saw no reason as to why he should be surprised by the inquiry.

"Yes. It's one of the few things I am confident I can do." V said, the humor in his tone at odds with the seriousness of his facial expression. He meant every word that he had said, even if he had said it in a more humorous tone than he might have normally. But keeping this conversation somewhat lighthearted was the only thing that made it bearable.

"Good. In truth, I already know that. I suppose I just needed to be more than 100% sure. I shouldn't project my insecurities onto you. You've done nothing to earn them." He sat back in his seat and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the window and took in a breath slowly. He then exhaled equally as slowly before opening his eyes again and making eye contact with V, not moving any other part of his body aside from his continued breathing causing his chest to raise and lower ever so slightly. He was clearly in a state of turmoil.

V took notice of his friend's silent but obvious anxiety, putting up his hand slowly to indicate that he'd like to interrupt. He didn't want to force him to reveal anything that he felt he shouldn't. That was not how they should go about this. This is a conversation that had to be had under the pretense of willingness and mutual understanding of their limits. Otherwise, it simply felt like he was blackmailing him or holding something against him as ransom, and he didn't like that any more than he was sure that Sirrus liked the idea of divulging personal information.

"Then I would also hope that you know you don't have to tell me anything, Sirrus. While an explanation would be preferable, it is not a prerequisite to our continued friendship. And I certainly don't want it to be at your expense." His tone was firm but compassionate, making it known that he was serious about what he had just said. The last thing he wanted was to make his friend divulge information that he felt shouldn't be known by others just for his sake. He didn't want him to live in constant fear that this information would somehow be spread to the wider world. He didn't want him to have to worry that people who shouldn't know would. V understood what it was like to be afraid of the judgment of others, and he didn't want him to go through that.

"I do." He said softly, his tone full of sincerity and his eyes full of appreciation. It was clear that he held much adoration for V and his propensity towards honesty. His willingness to put his friend before his own desires were genuinely touching to him. It wasn't something that he was used to. "All the more reason that now I wish to tell you of my own accord.

"Then I am curious to see what you have to say. Genuine." V said, folding his arms as he leaned forward, nothing to distract him. He wanted to make it clear that Sirrus had his full attention.

Seemingly catching note of this fact, the adjudicator nodded his head, seemingly thinking for a moment before speaking. This wouldn't need to be a long conversation, but it would certainly be comprehensive. After all, every answer he gave would probably lead to more questions. That was simply the nature of who and what he was. And although he didn't mind giving him the answers at this point, it was still a whole other thing entirely to physically move his lips and make the syllables required to form the words that would convey the message. It just felt wrong, physically and mentally.

"Part of the reason my powers seem to be taking so long to return to me is because half of my nature is suppressing the other half at the moment, fighting fruitlessly for control it will never have. One half of who I am has an affinity towards the moon, the other toward the sun. My own body treats portions of itself as cancer to be cut out. A weakness to be removed. It tries to eradicate itself, but it cannot change its own DNA. For how can I soul gain purchase upon itself? How can fire and ice commingle in the same form?" He said, turning his eyes away for a moment as he glanced out across the expanse of open land on this side of the train. They were passing through a gap in the forest. No doubt the trees would return shortly.

V seemed to consider his friend's words for a moment. That was a fair point if the young summoner had ever heard one. How was one supposed to reach homeostasis and exist in a state of balance if the two halves of their nature were fighting one another? But for the two halves of their nature to be at odds with one another then that meant that they had to be opposites, did they not? Or at least somewhat opposed. Otherwise, there would be no state of conflict. But then that meant… 

… What in the world was he?

Nodding in confirmation, V quietly waited for his friend to continue speaking. He had nothing to interject just yet, but he was sure that he would have something to ask soon enough. He was considering what he should ask at the moment, fully listening but still lost in his thoughts to a certain degree. It was like trying to fish a piece of paper out of an ever-shifting river, and the only questions worth asking were on that paper. But the further you waded out into the river, the more overwhelmed you became simply by the act of considering what could go wrong. The tide was rising after all. But he knew that this perceived pressure was in his own mind, more than likely the product of too many questions raising through his mind all at once. He needed to slow down and take this one at a time. But where to start when there was such a long list? That was the real issue that he was struggling with. How did one discern quality when presented with so much quantity?

Perhaps it was best that he simply go with the most obvious and pressing question of all.

"If your two natures are at odds with one another, then I suppose that raises one significant question for me," V said as he unfolded his arms, trying to appear casual but unsure as to how to do so. It wasn't every day that he got to practically interrogate someone like this. He simply hoped that he wasn't completely overstepping. It felt a little rude even to mentally comprehend the question he was about to ask. "... What are you, Sirrus? I remember you telling my father and uncle once that you were like them but different. If they are half human and half demon alike, and you are like them but unlike them in kind, then what does that make you?"

"The product of a union that should have never been. Of a bitterness that still remains between two houses. Of two opposing elements that should have never been combined." The sorrow was palpable in his tone as he looked down at the table for a moment, his eyes lingering on his mostly empty cup. He paused for a moment to slowly lift it and take a sip before swallowing it and sitting the cup aside, now empty. He then looked up again at V, clearly ready to get something off of his chest. And the young summoner was eager to help in any way that he could. "I'm a product of turmoil and dare I say eugenics… and I embody that same turmoil, dysfunction, and fundamental wrongdoing in every way that I wish I didn't."

V remained silent, I'm sure as to what he could say in response to a statement like that. He didn't personally feel that anything was wrong with Sirrus, but he didn't feel what he felt on a day-to-day basis. He didn't know what it was like to be him. To have experienced everything that he had experienced and to live the life that he lived. And so he believed that it was best, for now, to wait and hear what he had to say about himself first before jumping to any conclusions. But that still didn't stop him from reaching across the small table and resting his hand gently upon the forearm of his companion, his long sleeves thin and his cold skin radiating its chilliness through the fabric. But he did not recoil. How could he even dare think of doing so at a time like this? His friend needed him, and he wanted him to know that he was here for him.

For better or for worse. Regardless of what he was. It didn't matter to him now, and it never had. If meeting his family had taught him one thing it was that who you are was a part of what you were, but what you were born as did not determine who you would become. His own existence was evidence of this, and Sirrus's continued defiance only served to further embellish that belief. And to embolden him.

He gave Sirrus a sincere look, nodding quietly to show that he was still listening and that he could continue when he was ready. And with a soft sigh, the adjudicator closed his eyes and exhaled heavily after taking a deep breath to study himself. He then opened his eyes and made direct eye contact with the young summoner, his expression difficult to quantify.

"My mother who I derive my last name from was born of a dark bloodline. My father, sullied and tainted beyond the scope of the limitations of his kind, quite literally fell from grace into a darkness of his own, but his blood maintained the light that he was born into. Banishment cannot alter genetics. And of that union, I was their only child. A being of half dark and half light that Hell will not welcome and Heaven can only shun." He suddenly stopped talking, clearly lost in thoughts of his past and the pain that lay within it. There was clearly a lot of trauma there, but V got the impression that even if he asked, Sirrus wouldn't tell him about that. Some things were too personal. That was something they both shared, but he genuinely wished that wasn't the case. He didn't wish a broken childhood on anyone. "There is a word for what I am, but I am not sure due to my lineage that I even fit within those limitations. But it’s the best thing I have to work with. I’m unique, for better or for worse. And in my countless years of existence, I have only met one other who was even remotely like me, and that sense of alienation is something that I have carried with me my entire life. I never felt as though I fit in anywhere when even a fraction of what I am became known to others…"

He paused and blinked slowly, his eyes lingering shut for a moment as he took in another deep breath and exhaled heavily before opening his eyes again, a single tear running down his cheek and making contact with the table. And as it did, they broke the tree line and the once distant lake became all-encompassing, the locomotive they rode upon crossing a low bridge and allowing water to become the only thing that could be seen for miles in any direction. A low fog obscured the distant mountains on the other side of the water in the direction they were headed to. It was just the two of them and the vastness of the water. And the gravity of the words that had just been spoken.

"Until I meet you, V. I think that reintroductions are in order." His posture straightened from the slumped position that he had slowly slid into during their conversation. He then placed his hand atop of V's, just allowing it to lay there as his friend's hand rested upon his arm. He appreciated this small bit of comfort. It was an anchor in a vast storm that he had suddenly steered herself into. But then again, V always had been that for him, even if he had known him for too small of a fraction of his own lifetime to even attempt to quantify. But that didn't matter to him. The only thing that he cared about right now is this moment but how much relief he felt to finally be able to talk to someone about this without even the slightest bit of fear that he could not trust them. "My name is Sirrus Sanguine, formerly Sangusaint at the time of my birth before it was shortened for more modern times. And to answer your question, I believe the closest thing to what I actually am that has a name would be a Nephilim."

(-~-)

I know this will probably be quite the revelation to some of you, and some of you are probably going to be like "I KNEW IT" so I would absolutely LOVE to know what you think. It truly is the closest thing to naming what he is. I actually checked online and what he truly is in the book I've been meaning to write (which isn't what he is in this book) doesn't even have a name! That kind of excites me, honestly!

As for the other being that he said is kind of like him, she's a half-demon. She just comes from a different branch of his unique bloodline, but their parentages couldn't be more different. Just wanted to clear that up in case anyone was confused. I'll see you guys on Friday! Take care! It's been a little cooler this last week where I live, so I'm hoping that it's cooling down for all of you guys, too! 

#Petrichor #V #Sirrus #OC #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Post DMC5 #Post DMCV #Post DMC AU #My Post DMC5 AU #My Post DMCV AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry V AU #DMC AU #My DMC AU

[terkelsenellis]

Massively Exclusive: Jacobs on Camelot Unchained’s Kickstarter home Stretch

Camelot Unchained's Kickstarter adventure is nearly complete at press time, there's just a little more than a day remaining. City State's RvR Sandbox, a fantasy game, is only $1.82 million of its goal of $2 million. Mark Jacobs has created an official diary of development to help push the game's funding.

Jacobs discusses the many difficulties that come with managing a Kickstarter campaign and an ambitious MMORPG project, and he explores the highlights of the former that include three factions RvR, Minecraft-style building options, and an engine designed specifically for the project which has been able to handle hundreds of simultaneous players at well over 200 frames per second. Jacobs also thanks the current CU supporters, which he says have provided an incredible amount of support and pledged an average of $160.

After the cut, Jacobs' complete diary can be found.

Dev diary

Camelot Unchained Kickstarter is nearing its conclusion. There are only 38 hours to go. Our total stands at $1.73 million. Every comparable game has had a great final day, so while we haven't reached our target of $2 million yet, we're pretty hopeful.

Whatever happens, I will be forever grateful to our supporters. They're just amazing. As of right now our average pledge is around $160. This is a remarkable achievement. I've looked at several games that have been funded by crowds and none of them has been in the same ballpark. Some have raised more total dollars, but they've all done it by attracting larger numbers of people for a lower cost per head, averaging $55 to $60. We knew that Camelot Unchained was more of a niche game and because of this we anticipated or hoped our average would be higher. Like they say, "never" is a goal we have set in our most imaginings.

This is not the only aspect that can be quantifiable. How can you measure sheer enthusiasm? Or emotional commitment? Or positive attitude? Though I'm not able to, I know that our fans would be incredible. They have inspired me and our entire team beyond anything we could have expected or even imagined. This is the reason I am forever and forever grateful.

I am extremely proud of the team we have assembled. Each person on this team has given more than I could ever ask for. When we started, we knew that with just 12 people, it would take an enormous task to plan and run an Kickstarter campaign. We were prepared for this... or at least we thought. The sheer size of the job exceeded our expectations. Everyone stepped up to the challenge, and worked not just long hours, but weekends as well to ensure that we were on the right path. We had to deal the usual amount of injuries and illnesses, and today's amusement with Amazon Payments servers being down for four hours was definitely an interesting difficult task.

If we continue to follow the plan and fund, we'll soon embark on a bigger adventure, which will involve the actual development of the game. Even a narrowed MMOG isn't easy to create. It will not be easy, but I don't think so. What it will be however is enjoyable and rewarding. It's been a while since I had the chance to meet thousands of gamers in a community. With their support I am convinced that Camelot Unchained can be something special. My job is to be sure it is. I renew my promise that my team and I will spare no effort to honor the faith our backers have shown in us.

I'm happy to report that we've already made some very positive steps in this direction. Andrew Meggs' early work on our engine is a great illustration. Gaming news We looked at a variety of commercial solutions and realized we needed a solution that could let us focus on large-scale battles and not be a "jack all trades" solution that could handle different types of games. Anyone who has seen or played our tech demos can tell you that we have made a lot of progress in a short time. We've seen hundreds of players bouncing around and fighting in a tiny area, as well as particle effects, and consistently clocked more than 200 (well it's not to be boastful but we reached over 1200) frames per second, all the while playing with other players all over the world.

Another feature is our building system. The game will feature crafting however, crafters will also be able to construct various types of equipment like weapons or armor, as well as other weaponry. They'll also build homes, other buildings, defensive structures, etc. using a very flexible building block-like system that uses a combination of individual "cells" and larger "pre-fabs". They'll also be able to "blueprint" their creations, which means they can be duplicated, rebuilt or repaired faster than having to start from scratch every time. This is unlike anything I have seen before in a MMOG. Actually, it's more in the vein of sandbox-like building games such as Minecraft.

Camelot Unchained's heart will be RvR between the Arthurians, Tuatha De Danann and Vikings. Anyone who likes this kind of gameplay is invited to come to our site to see what we are trying to create. If you like what you read and see there's still time to make an offer. :)

#Best Games #Minecraft servers #gaming news

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!tommy #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #i had a COMPLETELY different point that i wanted to make but then i thought about it and went w a i t #uhhh if you wanna hear my original point lemme know i guess #anyway c!dream is such an interesting character! i hate him! #little green bastard man #c!dream critical

[tobesobri]

Traditions | 17.3k

a/n: it's been a while since I uploaded writing and for some reason I decided to sign up for this challenge and by some miracle actually managed to write something for it 🤯anyways, this is for the Valentine's Day Challenge by @1dffchallenges and it's honestly just a bit of fun, enemies to lovers little bit of angst and some smut! so i hope you enjoy! I'd always love to know your thoughts!! (also pls excuse any errors, I wrote this in a week with little editing lol)

prompt: doube date

dialogue: “So let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date for a Valentine’s Day Party?”

Pink and red were speckled throughout the entire office, whether it was a bouquet of chocolate roses, a banner of hearts, or stuffed bears residing next to bowls full of heart-shaped candies. Every employee’s section of the office had been filled to the brim with decorations as well. Pink and red ribbon taped carefully around the edges of their desktop computer, little store-bought balloons, also heart-shaped, grouped together and tied to desk chairs. 

And Y/N, dressed in her typical all black outfit, rolled her eyes as she paced through the office toward the one section in the back that was immune to all things heart-shaped, pink, or stuffed. 

She sat down at her desk with a loud sigh, her purse hitting the floor in its usual spot just before she slipped out of her jacket and draped it haphazardly between her back and the chair. It’d be wrinkled by the end of the day, but she didn’t care all that much, nor did she put much thought into the stains on her purse from leaving it on the floor. All she concerned herself with, after settling in, was getting straight to work… which was put on hiatus when she came face-to-face with both a pink and heart-shaped sticky note plastered onto the center of her computer screen. 

Groaning, she ripped it off and moved to turn her computer on before she bothered to read whatever was written on the note. She considered three potential suspects while she pulled her keyboard down onto her desk and logged in. There was Kayla, who worked front reception and was one of the main culprits of all the Valentine’s decorations. A strong contender. It could’ve also been Ines or Carmen, her closest work friends whom Y/N knew both owned a pad of pink, heart-shaped sticky notes. 

However, when she finally let her eyes fall to the note as her computer loaded up, the handwriting didn’t match any of the women she knew, and she was quite positive that none of them would have written was was sprawled out in black ink either.

Roses are red, violets are blue. I will fill your office with teddy bears and balloons, if you don’t send me your half of the proposal by two.

Harry.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the bin under her desk. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. Sure, she was nearly done with her portion of the work and would be able to send it to him before then, but now that he’d pestered her about it, he’d be lucky if she even bothered to send it to him at all. 

She didn’t doubt the promise, i.e. threat, he made on the note, but being surrounded by teddy bears and balloons would be worth making Harry’s life just a tad miserable.

After opening all the apps she’d need to get her work done, namely Photoshop and Illustrator, she connected her drawing tablet and set up the rest of her work station for the day, both on screen and off.

Harry had worked at the company for about two years longer than her and she’d started off as an intern while she was still in college and, after graduating, was hired as a permanent graphic designer. They had never really gotten along ever since Harry—jokingly—asked her to get him a coffee once… or twice. Unfortunately for her, though, they ended up working well together and their boss had stuck them both on the same projects ever since. Especially after the month-long project last spring that had been their most successful one to date. 

While she came up with the design parts of client projects, Harry handled the more technical side of things and they’d never really argued much over each other’s work even though they clashed constantly at a more personal level. 

“I see your feeling festive.” Just as she’d gotten into the groove of her typical morning and had forgotten all about Harry’s stupid note, his voice interrupted her entire thought process. So when she swiveled around to find him leaning into her little office space, it was hardly a surprise when she glared at him, even though he feigned offense at her bitterness.

“You got my note, I presume.” He let himself into her space anyway, holding a mug of steaming coffee she was sure he’d just made in the workroom, and leaned up against the opposite side of her desk that housed a much larger, digital drawing tablet for when she needed to do more intricate design pieces. 

She just swiveled back around to face her computer again and went back to work as if he was no longer there. Pretending to ignore his existence proved to be quite difficult when the very particular woodsy, vanilla scents of his cologne met her nostrils and filled her entire office. Not to mention, the sight of what he’d been wearing singed the backs of her eyelids so that she still saw him every time she blinked. It was as if her brain refused to let her forget what he looked like in his white button-up, sleeves rolled to the crooks of his elbows, all tucked into his fitted black trousers that tended to get the imaginations going of all the women in the building. 

Not her though, of course. She was better than that. Obviously.

He cleared his throat, still very much present in her space and still very much giving her a migraine. “So will it be ready by two?”

“Well, I planned to send it to you before lunch.” She tweaked the spacing between letters of a potential logo for the millionth time. “But now… I think I might need the rest of the day.”

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was shifting his weight impatiently and running a hand through his hair as he often did when he was… displeased. “I told you I’m leaving early tomorrow and I need it no later than two.”

She cocked her head to the side, still staring at her computer screen and not giving him an ounce of satisfaction. “Did you tell me that?” She teased, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth when she heard him groan behind her. “I must’ve forgotten.” Shrugging, she went back to her work.

“Unlike you,” he snapped, “some of us actually have a love life and I’d appreciate you not fucking up mine.”

She froze then, only for a split second, when his words sank in. Two thoughts raced through her head. The first a string of curse words because of his assumption that she didn’t have a love life. But the more prominent and worrisome part of his statement was that he did have one. And that he was leaving early tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—so he could get ready for a date.

Throwing both her prickly exterior and heartbreaking smirk up again, she turned to face him. “I’ve known you for three years now and if anyone has the potential to fuck up your love life, it’s you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and her gaze fell to the hand that seemed to wrap a bit tighter around his Bugs Bunny mug. His knuckles whitened and she met his heated stare again, pleased with herself for getting him riled up before he’d even finished his morning coffee.

“So,” she continued before he get get a word of retaliation out, and sat back against her chair, crossing her legs confidently as she folded her hands in her lap. “Who’s the poor girl you’ve tricked into going on a date with you this time?”

Harry had a terrible track record. The longest relationship he’d been in lasted for two months, and that was well before she’d known him. Everything else he had was just a one or two night thing and nothing more. Sure, it was all more than she had, but she preferred it that way. Harry seemed to resent the fact that he couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life.

“You don’t know her.”

Her smile widened. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Ooh, that just might be your second longest relationship, Styles.” 

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

His jab didn’t have an affect on her however, and he knew it wouldn’t because it never did. He knew she didn’t give a damn about relationships, or at least that’s what she claimed anyway. He couldn’t think of many twenty-four year old women who actually wanted to be alone. He actually couldn’t think of a mid-twenties anyone who wanted that.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She said nonchalantly, which irked him even more than he already was, and then swiveled away from him one last time, picking up her drawing pen and getting back to work.

“What’s your issue with relationships?” He went on and she knew he was headed right down a path intended to hurt her feelings just as much as she had his. So, she tensed slightly and braced for impact. “Is it a commitment thing? Or can you just not find anyone to put up with you for longer than five minutes?” 

She let his words sink their teeth in and then smiled to herself. “Hm. Seeing as you’ve been in my office now for,” she checked the time at the top right-hand corner of her screen, “eight minutes, maybe we should date.” She lifted a brow, awaiting his next response. 

It felt a bit like a cat-and-mouse chase bickering with Harry and since she was usually the cat, it brought her way too much pleasure fighting with him.

He scoffed. “Like I’d lower my standards for you.”

That one hurt, she had to admit. Not out loud or to Harry, but it still stung because it was true. He’d have to drop his standards to the floor to even consider dating her and she knew it. 

“Maybe,” she began, still half focused on her work, and ignored his comment all together, “some of us like being alone.”

“Nobody likes that.” He responded quickly and she heard a shift of his weight again and then his voice once more a few moments later. “It’s nice to be by yourself sometimes, yeah, but you can’t tell me you don’t want someone to come home to at the end of the day.” He crossed one leg over the other as he gripped the edge of her desk for support and just when she thought he was done, he kept going, “Someone you can vent to about your annoying co-worker.”

She glanced at him through the little portable mirror hanging above her desk—mostly used to make sure she looked decent before meeting with clients or, sometimes, Harry—and saw the tight smile on his lips. Almost as if that’s what he wanted, like he was talking about himself and not her. 

She’d slowed her progress down while he’d talked until she was no longer working at all. She no longer swiped her pen across the pad or had any idea what she was even doing when she focused solely on his words. Because, once again, whether he was talking about himself or about her, he was right.

“Yeah well,” she quickly hid herself back behind her wall and made her hands function properly again. “Some of us also don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.”

She imagined him smirking at that one because, buried deep within her words was a compliment. That he was handsome enough to actually have anyone he wanted.

Instead, when she glanced at the mirror again and found him, there was the complete opposite of a smirk on his face, and as he stared down into his mug, clearly lost in thought, she wondered what the tightness in his jaw and the frown pulling on his lips meant.

She sighed and stole his attention away from his coffee. “I’ll have it to you before lunch. You can go now, unless you’d like to argue some more and slow me down by another…” she glanced at her clock again, adding up all the time he’d been standing in her office, “fifteen minutes.”

Without another word, she listened to the drag of his footsteps as he finally left her office space. And although she was glad to be rid of his distraction, the room felt so much bigger and so much colder and emptier without him in it. Shivering, she slipped back into her jacket and spent the next few hours doing nothing but staring straight ahead at her screen as she made final adjustments to her designs. 

Any other conversations with Harry were had over email as he worked in his own respective office, messaging her with every little concern he had in order to get his work done efficiently so that he wasn’t stressing to finish it tomorrow before he had to leave. Even though Y/N considered not responding to him a few times, just to spite him and slow him down for her own amusement, she found herself feeling guilty after leaving him hanging a couple times. Sure, she hated Valentine’s Day and everything surrounding it, but she’d almost hate even more the idea of both her and Harry being miserable tomorrow, so she inevitably gave in and cooperated with him. She’d probably regret it when he came back on Thursday spreading around the office all the gory details of his date, but at least he wouldn’t also be in a shitty mood. Her days were both boring and slow whenever Harry wasn’t having a good day. And although she’d blame it all on selfish reasons, it did also make her sad to see him frowning around the office and sulking when all she wanted to do was bicker with him and make him smile again, even just a little bit. But it was easier leaving him to his own devices than risk him finding out she cared about him enough to not wish sadness upon him.  

She couldn’t say the same for him. Harry probably relished in the days she came into the office in a sour mood. He probably celebrated and threw a party whenever she was upset, and, even so, it didn’t change how she felt about him.

The sun had long set and most of the office was gone by the time she finally called it quits and began packing up her things and giving her computer a rest for the night. There were still quiet murmurs from other workaholic employees, which comforting her knowing she wasn’t completely alone in the building, since the last time she’d done that, it took everything in her not to have a panic attack all the way to her car. 

Even though her boss told her countless times not to stay past five o’clock, as he told every other female employee that worked for him that he didn’t wish to see attacked after sunset in the city. Of course, when she was the only one who didn’t listen to him, he hired more guards and one of them rounded the corner into her office space, ready to escort her all the way down to her car.

“Figured you were still here.” He leaned against the walls of her cubicle and watched as she startled, twisting to meet his eyes for a moment before she settled and returned to slipping her belongings into her purse. 

“I don’t need you to escort me.” Zipping her purse, she rose from her chair, checking one last time across her desk to make sure she’d grabbed everything she needed to take home with her before turning to him as he still lingered in the opening of her little office. 

William had been hired a couple months ago, and was only a year older than her, but even so he was more than a foot taller than her and his biceps were about as big as her head. While the entire office drooled over him, she tended to keep her eyes and her thoughts to herself. 

“You say that every night you stay late. Just let me do my job and shut up about it.” He smirked at her and when her eyes met his again, sharply, glaring at him, she groaned and whirled past him toward the elevators. He followed swiftly behind, knowing she’d close the doors on him if he didn’t keep close enough pace with her, mostly because she’d done it before.

As he took his spot beside her and she pressed the button for the parking garage at the basement of the building, a familiar voice rang out through the office.

“Wait!” As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough with William’s presence, his stupidly large arm held the elevator doors open as Harry slipped inside a moment later.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry said exclusively to William as he caught his breath and stood wedged in the middle between the guard and Y/N, who was inching closer and closer into her corner to get away from Harry.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” Harry asked, his attention solely on William again while the elevator took off down through the levels of their building. Not fast enough for Y/N, of course.

William sighed, crossing his arms and trying to resist smiling. “Me and my girlfriend take turns surprising each other every year. And it’s her turn this year… so I guess I have plans, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

Y/N whirled her head to glare up at the side of Harry’s face. “Speak for yourself.” She warned.

Harry just ignored her though. “What did you guys do last year?”

Again, William stifled a grin. “I had been saving up for a while and took us both to Paris.”

“Shit.” Harry’s eyebrows rose and Y/N rolled her eyes away from him, watching the LED screen above the elevator doors as they neared the bottom levels of the building. She knew Harry and William had become friends, mostly because Harry was annoying and befriended everyone. Except her, of course. She heard his stupid voice again and wished she could just transport herself directly into the front seat of her car and be done with the both of them. “And now she has to do better than Paris.”

Y/N glanced around Harry just in time to see William smirk and she should have known what was about to come out of his mouth before it did. “Well, I don’t consider much better than her mouth ar—“

Y/N cut him off. “Ew! Are you serious?”

Both men eyed her curiously just as the elevator came to a stop and, with a ding, the doors opened. She flew toward them quickly.

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

Again, she cut him off, turning once she was out on solid ground. “I’ll be fine, besides trying to rid my mind of that image you just burned into it.” She turned on her heel and headed off toward her car.

William made a move toward her and Harry grabbed his arm, “I’ll walk her. Forgot she’s a bit of a prude.” They shared an amused look and Harry jogged out onto the concrete and asphalt until he reached her side.

“I heard that, you know… and I know for a fact your car is not parked in this direction.” She seethed and he just smiled to himself, happier than ever that she was in the mood to bicker with him, because he wasn’t quite in the mood to leave yet, where he’d have to wait till tomorrow morning at nine-thirty to see her again. And she wasn’t always the most talkative person on Valentine’s Day, either.

“Why are you the only female in our building not foaming at the mouth over him?” He asked instead, referring to William.

He heard her scoff. “Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have to be interested… or want to hear about his girlfriend sucking his—“

“Cock?” Harry finished for her and within a second she spun around to face him, forcing him to stop in his tracks just inches from her now. His smirk only grew when he saw just how quickly he’d gotten her all flustered. 

And then, as they started each other down, the hardness in her face softened and she drew out a breath, forcing his eyes to fall to her lips and his smirk to fall from his mouth. He thought back to last spring, when there were numerous late nights with her just like this one. When he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about…

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked and he blinked a couple times before he lifted his eyes.

“Like what?” He furrowed his brows, trying to track down all the resentment he had for her but he couldn’t find it anywhere anymore. He couldn’t summon it and say something that would save his ass from being caught looking at her like he wanted to kiss her.

Like he wanted to taste her and feel her against him, and hear what she sounded like when he tugged at her hair for more.

“Nevermind.” She shook her head, silencing the chaos going on in his brain. And then she turned, continuing the walk to her car with or without him, but, when she heard the echoing click of his shoes against the asphalt once more, she knew she wasn’t rid of him yet.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride back to my car, will you?” He easily stepped back into place beside her like nothing had happened.

She didn’t say anything for much longer than he was comfortable with. And then, finally, they reached her car and she sighed. “Get in before I change my mind.”

As she went for the driver’s side, he took quick steps to the opposite side, watching her over the top of her little Honda as she unlocked her door, and then, after clicking the button, his door as well. They both slipped in at the same time and while she fastened her seatbelt and settled in for her drive home, he sat perched with his backpack in his lap, knowing he’d be out of her car within only a couple minutes.

He still glanced around at his surroundings as she backed out of her parking space. “Should’ve guessed your car would be as neat as your desk.”

She didn’t say anything as she drove in the opposite direction of the exit toward the section of the garage Harry always parked in. It was closer to the elevators because he always came in before her and snagged a prime spot. She preferred an extra few minutes of sleep over walking an extra fifty steps.

And he started up again when she continued to not talk to him. “Most artists I know of are super messy.”

“I’m not an artist.” She gritted out through her teeth as she came to a stop once she spotted the rear-end of Harry’s BMW. Although she knew it well enough to distinguish it from the other black BMWs in the garage, it also helped that Harry had an old, faded license plate cover filled with a collage of cute pictures of puppies. He’d said it won him bonus points with women, but she also knew his screensaver at work was a picture of puppies as well, and no women he was interested in ever saw that.

He peeled his eyes off his car and looked over at her. “I know you can draw, too.”

She paused, gripping her steering wheel. She did enjoy both art and design and she knew Harry knew the difference between the two. She just didn’t know why he always insisted on bugging her about it. 

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make me an artist.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him just in time to find him shrugging a shoulder like he was agreeing to disagree. Even if she couldn’t draw, he’d still consider her an artist because the things she managed to design always blew his mind and if that wasn’t art… 

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to get out, or do I have to drag you?”

He grinned, and it was almost as if her eyes refused to see anything else but his dimples and the bright whites of his teeth, and the birthmark to the side of his mouth… 

“I’m going.” He assured, and yet he still hadn’t moved an inch. “Even though I’d love to see you try to drag me.” With her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, he chuckled and unzipped the small pocket on the front of his backpack, withdrawing his keys as he finally swung her door open.

Once he was out, he gripped the top of the door and leaned back in to find her staring straight ahead. “Drive carefully, yeah? Would be quite tragic for your bitter ass to die on Valentine’s Day.”

She reached over and, despite having to brush her knuckles along the side of his thigh, grabbed the handle of the passenger door and yanked. His body remained in her way, however, and he was unfortunately a lot stronger than her.

Then she finally looked up at him, and those thoughts he had earlier surfaced again as much as he’d tried to bury them. This time though, he didn’t fight it as he glanced at her lips once more, then back at her eyes, which had widened slightly just before the dimples reappeared in his cheeks. “And I guess I would miss bickering with you every day.”

With that, he was gone and she retreated back to her seat as he shut the door for her. She had no idea what to think about what had just happened. Why he’d looked at her like that again. What that look even meant. 

By the time she reached the freeway, she’d convinced herself she was just seeing things. Harry wasn’t looking at her in any other way he had before when he was intent on pestering her. But, as she took in the scent of him still lingering in the cabin, she allowed a small part of her to hope she was wrong.

Her eyes fell on the man down the hall from her door as she slipped her key into the lock, her brows furrowing as she watched him. It wasn’t unusual for their paths to cross, as they tended to get home around the same time, but it was quite odd to see him sitting on the floor outside his apartment, his head in his hands. 

They’d said hi to each other a couple times in the mailroom, but she definitely didn’t know him well enough to go up and ask what his issue was or try to fix it for him. And after it was confirmed that he hadn’t, in fact, lost his keys, as they sat beside him on the floor along with his phone, she figured it best to leave him be. 

Turning her key, she pulled her gaze from him and disappeared from the hallway.

The second she was inside her apartment, she felt all the weight lift right off her shoulders, especially when her cat came racing up, screaming at her from the floor while also coaxing her toward the kitchen to fill the food bowl. Whatever was going on with her neighbor still very much on her mind, she tried to focus instead on relaxing and getting both her and the screaming Pretzel some dinner. 

She tried to remember his name as she heated up leftover pasta. She knew it started with an A, but her brain was coming up short. So, while Pretzel crunched on his food in his corner of the kitchen, she tried her hardest to remember. 

And it was no question why she cared so much. Her neighbor was someone she was actually interested in, and she had been since she first saw him. Of course, she was never foolish enough to think he was into her, but she still let herself fantasize. He was tall, nearly black curly hair atop his head always in a state of disarray, and he had the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen hidden behind his glasses. And, if she was being honest with herself, he was just a darker-haired version of Harry. Maybe that’s why she liked him.

The beeping of her microwave tore her thoughts from the dangerous path they’d been headed down. Harry’s voice rang in her head a moment later.

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

She’d needed to hear him say that, because sometimes her thoughts got carried away when it came to Harry and sometimes she did let herself be a fool who hoped. But after he’d said that one damning phrase, it was enough for her to stop. She didn’t meet a single one of his standards, inside or out. 

Still, she tried her hardest not to go back out into the hall and make sure her neighbor was alright. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to and it wasn’t like she was doing anything important. Even if she didn’t have a dumb crush on him, as she did Harry, she still didn’t enjoy seeing him in the state he’d been in.

Before she could work up the nerve, however, a knock sounded through her quiet apartment.

She held her breath as she opened her door, really hoping it wasn’t the boy from across the hall, since she was still blanking on his name, but she couldn’t imagine anyone else knocking on her door this late into the evening. 

So when she inevitably found him there, looking down at her through his annoyingly long lashes as she took in the horrible state he was in—red, inflamed eyes and hair that needed to see a brush rather than his hand—she completely lost her breath instead.

“Uh, sorry, I… saw you come in and I know we don’t talk and this is a weird thing for me to ask but…” He ran said hand through said messy hair and she found her breath again while looking up at him like she’d do whatever he’d asked just so he’d stop frowning.

He sighed, glancing down the hall toward his apartment and then met her curious and somewhat concerned gaze. “Can I come in?”

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

“Well, um, I was hoping you could help me with something and I’d rather not have the entire floor know about it.”

She was beyond confused now, but still, she stepped aside and let him pass, assuming that if he was actually a murderer he would have done her in a lot sooner than this. He had plenty of other opportunities. Plus, something in his face just… made her want to trust him.

She closed the door and turned to him, watching as his eyes scanned her kitchen and where her food still sat before he twisted around, eyes wide. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” And after clearing her throat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you, um… what do you need help with?”

He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple budge in his throat. “I don’t imagine you’ll like me very much after I ask but… I need a date.”

“What?” Again, she nearly flew out of her skin.

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, gauging her reactions and very obviously on the verge of seeing himself out and pretending this never happened. Instead, he stuffed away his pride and went on. “My ex… she, uh… well we broke up a few months ago and I saw her the other day and she’s seeing someone and we were talking and I… told her I was seeing someone too and so she invited me to go on this stupid double date with her… but the thing is… I’m not actually seeing anyone and I just told her that so she’d be jealous but she didn’t seem jealous at all and I don’t exactly have many friends to ask for help and I saw you and…” He rambled, but she managed to understand his predicament just fine. 

“A double date? With your ex?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know either. She’s… she does weird shit but… I still want her back.”

Y/N’s heart ached in her chest. As much as she detested relationships, she was a sucker for other people’s relationships and she was definitely a sucker for her beautiful neighbor, even if he was asking to use her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“Not that I’m saying yes but… when? And where?” She finally asked after thinking things over for a moment.

“Tomorrow night… I can pay you. I will pay you, I mean… but, seriously, you don’t have to do it I just thought I would ask.”

“Where is this date at?” She repeated when he didn’t answer that part of her question.

“At this party… and bef—“

She cut him off. “Okay so let me get this right. You want to hire me as your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”

He lifted a brow, “Well, there’s more… she wants to get dinner before going to the party.”

She shook her head, looking away, “I don’t really do Valentine’s Day…”

“You wouldn’t have to do much. I’ll pay for your dinner, too. Whatever you want. I just… really need your help and you’re my only option.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You realize I’m not exactly…” she waved at her face and his eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “I’m not easy on the eyes and I don’t think taking me will make anyone jealous.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at her incredulously. She shifted her weight nervously and he finally opened his mouth. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

Her features scrunched up and she kept her eyes planted on the middle of his chest. And then he realized that she, in fact, did.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.” He also realized that using her to make his ex jealous would possibly hurt her more than it would help him and he could no longer fathom putting her through that. “I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.” He moved to walk past her, back to his apartment but she stopped him before he got far.

“No… I’ll help you.” And then she realized his identity was still somewhat of a mystery to her. “This sounds even worse than what you just asked me to do, but… I completely forgot your name.”

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.” 

He smiled wider and nodded. “I know.” And then his face grew sad again. “I am really sorry I’m asking you to do this on Valentine’s Day, it’s definitely not my proudest moment.”

She waved him off. “I wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do.” She didn’t bother brining up the whole payment thing. She didn’t really care about being paid. He was nice, the only nice person she’d encountered in her apartment building and if getting him back together with his ex meant she’d never have to come home and see him in the fetal position on the floor again, she’d suffer through a date and a party on her least favorite holiday.

It was somehow even worse than it’d been yesterday. The decorations seemed to triple in size. Not an inch of the office was untouched by something pink and she prayed whoever had put up even more decorations had spared her little cubicle.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” One of the receptionists most responsible for the overflowing decor, Kayla, called her over to her desk not even a minute after Y/N had arrived. And she stalked over until she saw the package Kayla pulled out that instantly lifted her spirits.

She stopped in front of Kayla’s desk and took the thin box from from her, already knowing what it was and thanking god for the timing so that her entire day wasn’t completely miserable. It was a new drawing pad she’d ordered, a bigger one that she hoped would be a bit more efficient to use than her current one.

Even with her back turned to the rest of the office, she sensed Harry’s presence long before he stopped beside her with his mug in hand.

He lifted a brow at the package in Y/N’s hands just as she reluctantly turned to look at him. “Getting gifts sent to the office? That’s a first.”

She rolled her eyes and stuffed the box under her arm, holding herself back from running off to her office to set it up. “Jealous?” She cocked her head.

And instead of his condescending smirk and a hateful response to go with it, the sparkle in his eyes seemed to fade as he eyed the box again, genuinely worried now that it was actually a gift from someone. 

Before either could say anything, they all turned to find a delivery man walking up to Kayla with a giant bouquet of flowers in tow. And so it began. Although, when Kayla took the vase from the man eagerly, a bright smile on her face because Kayla loved love a little too much, Y/N couldn’t help but think about Adam. About how the only time she’d managed to get a date on Valentine’s Day was when it wasn’t even real. Instead, she’d stupidly agreed to help her cute neighbor win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for a free dinner.

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

She felt Harry watching her, too, while she eyed the bouquet of flowers as they departed reception with Kayla and made their way to their recipient. As stupid as she found everything about the holiday, she couldn’t help but want someone to send her flowers. To give her anything for that matter. To have thought about her for at least a second of their day. Harry cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away.

“So… what’s in the box?”

“None of your business.” She rounded him, heading to her office, but he grabbed her free arm to stop her short and didn’t speak until she met his gaze again.

“Can we meet up in my office to finish the proposal? Think it’ll be easier to get it done than over email.”

She had every reason to be suspicious of him. They almost never worked in each other’s offices. When they did work together, which was often, it was in one of the empty conference rooms and it was usually at the beginning of the process when they needed the space to plan things out. The last time they’d really been in each other’s offices was last spring. Figuring he just wanted to get things done so he could be out of the office on time, she let it go.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He watched her walk away, watched her even as Kayla returned and noticed his gaze and giggled at him as she took her spot back behind her desk.

“It was something she ordered for herself, by the way.”

“What?” Harry whipped around again, not having even realized the other woman until now.

“I know you two pretend to hate each other but I see the way you look at her, Harry.” Kayla lifted a brow at him as she began typing on her keyboard.

He feigned disgust. “I’m seeing someone, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” He insisted. “I have a date. Tonight.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay… I’m just saying.”

“I don’t look at her.”

Kayla suppressed a smile and snorted instead. “If you say so. I guess you didn’t also sneak into her office this morning, either.”

“I think all these flowers and stuffed bears and heart-shaped things have gotten to your head.” He pointed around to the decor littering her desk while holding his mug steady.

Kayla met his eyes and her smile slipped off her face. “Harry, please don’t mess with her.”

His face screwed up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t like her then don’t lead her on.”

“I don’t think she’s capable of being led on.”

Kayla froze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that either. “Why are you being weird?”

“Because,” Kayla sighed, brushing her curled brunette hair onto one shoulder and then lowered the volume of her voice. “I happen to know she doesn’t think very highly of herself and I’d rather not see her get hurt, especially not by you.”

Now Harry froze. The hand that gripped his mug tightened and he didn’t even flinch as it began to burn his skin. He heard Y/N’s voice in his head then as he drowned out his surroundings.

Some of us don’t have the luxury of choosing whomever we want.

He had instantly regretted what he’d said to her yesterday when she’d told him that. And now hearing Kayla, in a way, confirm what he’d read between the lines of Y/N’s words… his chest tightened in quite possibly the worst way ever. He’d hated himself most of the day after telling her he’d never lower his standards for her and he could say he was just bickering all he wanted, but he knew now for certain she took it the wrong way. And he wished more than ever that he hadn’t said something so horrible to her, especially when it was the farthest thing from the truth. 

And the real truth, that he was trying desperately to shove away with stupid remarks like that, was that he didn’t meet her standards. She wasn’t into relationships and he knew he wasn’t good enough to change her mind.

“How do you know that?” He finally asked.

“That Christmas party last year… she’s a really happy drunk until she’s not.”

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

“I don’t want to get into it, mostly because I don’t think she remembers and would probably kill me if I told you but… just leave her be.”

He hardened back up again. “She does’t have any interest in relationships anyway, ‘specially not with me.”

Kayla scoffed. “She’s a really good liar.”

Harry stood there for a few more moments, feeling as if his life had just gotten flipped upside down. He’d been in such a good mood mere minutes ago before his dumbass waltzed into reception all because he’d seen Y/N. Because, despite everything and despite the fact he was already attempting to date someone else, it was Y/N he wanted to be close to all the damn time. Groaning, he turned on his heel and left for his office, hoping she wasn’t there waiting for him so he could have a moment to himself to gather his thoughts.

In a hurry to open her package, Y/N slumped down into her chair tossing her purse on the ground at her feet and pulling out her box cutter in a rush of movements. She was so distracted, in fact, that she didn’t even notice the little stuffed frog, the box of chocolates and envelope sitting on the other side of her desk near her mouse. Instead, she unboxed her new tablet and began setting it up, not noticing the gifts until she went to turn on her computer. And then she froze.

With reluctant hands she grabbed the envelope first, her name printed on it in perfect cursive. She knew nobody in the office who had such good penmanship. Opening the card in hopes of finding out who had placed the items on her desk, instead, she just found it signed as ‘secret admirer.’ Rolling her eyes, she set the card down and realized it had to be from her boss. Sometimes he remembered to go around and give everyone little gifts on the holidays. Obviously he’d remembered this year. 

She dug into the chocolates as she set up her tablet and began calibrating it to suit her needs before finally testing it out in the little bit of time she had before she needed to make her way to Harry’s office. 

And once that time came, she left everything in its place, besides the box of chocolates, which she continued to pick at while she made her way through the room. What she didn’t notice while stuffing her face with candy was that… no one else had a stuffed frog or chocolates or a cheesy little card on their desks.

She rounded the corner into Harry’s office, which was a real office and not a cubicle that he usually shared with one other person who was thankfully out with clients for the day. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention after just watching him focus on his screen for a moment. Harry was cute when he was focused.

But then he turned to her and his eyes fell to the box in her hand.

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out toward him. “Do you want some? I think Andrew was feeling generous this year.”

Harry’s eyes quickly panned up to hers and his brows furrowed as if she’d just punched him in the gut. And she couldn’t make out what that expression meant no matter how hard she tried. 

“He didn’t give me anything.” Harry motioned around his desk.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you.” She shrugged, setting the chocolates down on his desk while she grabbed his office mate’s chair and pulled it up beside him.

Harry sighed, turning to his computer for a moment and then watching her from his peripheral while she picked out another piece of chocolate. “I didn’t see anyone else with chocolates on their desks this morning.”

Y/N just shrugged. “There was a frog too. And a card.”

“And why do you think he’d give you all of that and no one else?” Harry hoped she’d get the hint but he didn’t hope too hard. She was still Y/N after all. And he really didn’t mean to sound so bitter… well, okay, he did. But he knew she’d misplace his bitterness, crushing what little hope there was to bits.

“Maybe he likes me better than all the rest of you.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head as he put his attention back on his screen. 

“No one else in this office would give me a card signed as a secret admirer so… maybe I did something I don’t remember doing and he’s thanking me?” Now that she really thought about it, and if Harry was right… then it really didn’t make  much sense. It’s not like she was Andrew’s favorite employee.

Harry just lifted a brow and then pretended to lose all interest. 

Sensing the tension, she slipped the box closer to him. “Here. I think you need a knock-off Snickers if you expect me to work with your grumpy ass.” He made no move to indulge her, however. And so she went on, continuing to poke the bear. “Why are you in a lousy mood anyway? Isn’t this your favorite holiday? And you get to leave early.”

His eyes fell from his screen and he stared at the brick of sticky notes below his monitor before mumbling, “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.”

Taken aback, she searched what she could see of his face for answers to what he was apologizing for. He’d said a few things she could imagine deserved an apology and yet, so did she. Maybe she should have been the one to apologize to him first.

“I didn’t mean to say what I did.” He finally turned to meet her face on. He’d hoped the frog and the chocolates would have been atonement enough, but considering she thought they were from their boss and not him, he just had to suck it up and actually say what he meant.

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I can be a prude sometimes.”

He searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his head, “No that’s not… I meant what I said earlier in your office… about lowering my standards. It was a stupid thing to say and not true in the slightest.”

But then she smiled and he grew confused. “Yes it is. It’s okay to have standards, you know.”

“I know that. But if we… I wouldn’t have to lower my standards. And it was cruel of me to have said that to you.”

She couldn’t stand looking at him any longer and averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Well it doesn’t matter so… can we just get this proposal done?”

He’d wanted to spend how ever long it took to convince her that it did, in fact, matter, but Y/N was persistent, more so than him, and so he’d given in and they moved on to being productive with their time. And in less time than he’d anticipated their proposal was finished, being sent off to Andrew for approval before their presentation at the end of the week with their clients.

Harry sat back in his chair and she returned her own to the other desk where it belonged, all while he watched her. 

“What do you do on Valentine’s Day?” He asked, just trying to get her to stay longer, knowing that if those were his true intentions, then he was fucked. That he wanted to be around Y/N, even though he was seeing someone else, albeit for just a week so far, even though she’d never want the same from him. 

Maybe he was just as terrible with relationships as she claimed if he always chased after what he couldn’t have.

“That is also none of your business.” She grabbed her box of chocolates from his desk, his voice pinning her in place again though.

“Let me guess… it involves chocolate, your cat, and the most anti-romantic movies you can find?”

He would not think her very prudish if he knew what else she did on Valentine’s Day while alone in her apartment, but she figured it was best to keep that to herself. Instead, she smiled at him. “Something like that.”

He narrowed his eyes and threw his arms up behind his head as he laid back in his chair, watching her curiously like he was trying to figure her out. Meanwhile, she was trying to not make it obvious she was staring at his biceps as they just about bulged from underneath the sleeve of his pink button-up. He’d done it on purpose though, so as much as she tried to hide it, he still grinned with satisfaction when she became flustered.

“Well, have fun with that, then.” He nodded, and for a moment while she was lost in his eyes and growing embarrassingly hot, she wondered if he could read her mind. If he knew exactly what not-so-innocent things she did on Valentine’s Day. Then he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and watching as she rolled her eyes, held her chocolates close, and left his office. 

Adam arrived right when he said he would at five-thirty. It had given her plenty of time to change out of her work clothes and into one of the few dresses she owned, to at least seem somewhat convincing that this was a real date. She also fixed her makeup and put on a pinkish-nude lipstick before switching out her bulky purse for a smaller crossbody. 

When she opened the door to him, he most certainly did not disappoint. She almost let herself get lost in the delusion that it was a real date when she saw him dressed to the nines and cleaned up for the first time since she’d known him. And she especially got a little lost in it when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back and handed them to her. 

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know.” He gave her a once over when she wasn’t looking. “You didn’t have to do this for me either.”

She quietly accepted the flowers and let him in while she found a vase and filled it with water. He leaned on the counter, watching her as she did so.

“You look… beautiful, by the way.” He blurted out once she had cut and placed the stems into the vase. Her hands froze, though, and when he met her eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“You’re paying me to make your ex-girlfriend jealous. Please don’t flatter me.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, although he was beginning to wonder if the bigger mistake was not taking her out on a proper date that had nothing to do with his ex. 

She sighed and adjusted the strap of her purse. “Let’s go then.”

He went over all the final details on the Uber ride to the restaurant. Things about his ex he thought Y/N should know about. And he made sure she knew, for about the hundredth time, that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to. And she reminded him for an equal amount of times that she never did anything she didn’t want to do. So, settling that, he helped her out of the back of the Uber when they arrived and opened the door to the restraint for her as well. Everything that she’d expect from a normal date, which only left her disappointed when she reminded herself it wasn’t.

She waited quietly, and tried to catch her nerves, while Adam talked to the hostess and gave her his ex’s name for the reservation. The place was packed and anyone who didn’t call ahead surely would not be getting a table tonight. She’d never been out on Valentine’s Day, though, so it was like stepping into a brand new world for her. And as she followed both the hostess and Adam, she paid more attention to all the couples enjoying their meals than anything else.

Except for when he reached back and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers just before they came to a stop. She blinked her eyes at their hands for just a moment before he gently pulled her around next to him. And whatever way she’d felt about holding Adam’s hand went right out the window when she locked eyes with Harry.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she expected to find, while Laura, the gorgeous blonde ex-girlfriend, stood to hug Adam, was Harry fucking Styles. And what a fucking coincidence it was, almost as if this was her karma for feeling the need to constantly help people. 

Adam’s hand slipped from hers but she didn’t even notice it anyway. She and Harry still stared each other down and neither of them moved a muscle either. Well, besides the one in his jaw as it tightened. Then he did move, glancing over at Adam with a blank expression before landing his gaze back on her again. And then his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him and she felt like she’d been released from chains he’d tied around her wrists.

“This is Y/N,” Adam’s hand went to the small of her back, guiding her forward to meet his ex-girlfriend and Harry’s current… whatever they were. 

Laura held out her hand, her smile a little too forced. “Laura. It’s nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She ushered them to the table as she took her spot beside Harry again. Adam, of course, took the chair opposite Laura, which left Y/N in the one opposite Harry. 

This would be a long, hellish night.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Harry was thinking. That maybe she’d come to crash his date. Or, even worse, that he’d already figured the whole thing out. That Adam was paying her to be here. She really hoped he’d never find out because it was just embarrassing enough to make her want to change her name and move across the country, thousands of miles away from him. Harry finding out that she couldn’t get a real date to save her life… beyond humiliating.

“This is Harry.” Laura motioned to him and he just barely lifted his gaze, nodding at Adam and ignoring Y/N entirely. “You know,” the blonde went on, glancing between Adam and Y/N, “I was a little shocked when you told me you were seeing someone again.”

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?” 

Y/N left all the talking to him. Mostly because she was still in shock that she was sitting across from Harry. And she hadn’t even taken the time to properly take him in and realized he’d also changed his clothes since work. Swapping his wardrobe out for a fitted black button-up, that wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top as his shirts normally were. The sleeves were already rolled to his elbows. He’d shaved off the scruff along his jaw as well and fixed his hair so that it was combed back out of his face, although a a couple rebellious strands hung down onto his forehead. He looked… like absolute perfection. And he was being forced to be on a date with the ex-boyfriend of the girl he was seeing and his annoying co-worker. She felt terrible for him.

“Oh, uh, well we live on the same floor.”

Laura nodded, clearly anticipating more. “Is that it?”

Y/N felt Adam tense up beside her and so she took over, easily spinning a lie. “I ran out of milk one night a few weeks ago. He’s the only one who answered the door.”

She noticed a flash of movement in her peripheral and turned to find Harry’s gaze on her again, one eyebrow lifted curiously. He was either wondering how she hid it so well, or trying to figure out what to ask in order to reveal their ploy. He never said anything, though.

“Sorry, um,” Laura’s tone changed as she glanced between Harry and Y/N, both of them looking away when the other girl interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

Harry grinned, sitting back against his seat and folding his hands in his lap. “Something like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We work together.”

“Really?” Although her tone said otherwise, Laura’s face said everything about how she felt upon hearing that bit of information. 

Adam twisted his worrisome gaze to Y/N, but she ignored it. Harry, however, did not.

“Don’t worry, mate. I was under the impression she was celibate up until now.” With that, Y/N kicked him under the table and he sat forward to swallow the groan that very nearly left his lips after she’d jabbed him in the shin with the toe of her heels. “Guess she’s really good at hiding things, though.”

Adam just chuckled nervously and Y/N shot him an apologetic smile, trying to reassure him that this date would still work out despite Harry. 

“What a small world.” Laura laughed, trying to break the tension but dinner hadn’t even started yet. 

Sometime during the main course, Laura excused herself to the bathroom and Y/N almost, in a desperate attempt to flee both Adam and Harry, invited herself along. But she figured it’d be worse to be alone with Laura than with them. Laura might ask questions she wasn’t prepared for. So, she stayed put, as much as it pained her to do so.

“So, Adam, what do you do for a living?” Harry asked suddenly and she wanted to kick him again. Mostly because his tone was that of a jealous teenager and he’d waited until Laura was gone to pester her ex-boyfriend who most certainly did not deserve Harry’s pestering.

“Oh, uh, I’m an artist. I work for an animation studio at the moment but I’m trying to get into freelance.”

Harry’s eyes shot to the suspiciously quiet girl sitting across from him. “So is Y/N.”

Adam turned to look at her, but she just glared at Harry. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Harry titled his head as he narrowed his attention in on Adam again. “So you’ve known her for a few weeks and you never asked what she did?”

“Harry.” Y/N warned, trying to kick him under the table again but he dodged out of the way.

“Well… she said she was in graphic design… not art.” She had told him that, during their crash course yesterday while they got to know as much as they could about each other in a span of a couple hours.

“I think it’s the same thing.”

Adam just shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think I could be a designer, though. Most artists make what they think looks good, designers create things to appeal to customers.”

“Just ignore him.” Y/N advised and Harry was the one shooting her daggers and attempting to stomp his foot on top of hers under the table this time.

“You and Laura used to date then? She never told me how you split up.” Harry moved on.

Adam swallowed nervously. “She broke up with me.”

“Why?” Harry pushed and Y/N looked at him like she wanted to kill him, which he ignored.

“I, uh… I had a drug problem for a while. I was not the best person to be around sometimes. But after we broke up, she helped me with rehab and everything.”

“Guess that explains why you’re on such good terms.”

Now Y/N really wanted to do more than just kick him. 

Adam grabbed Y/N’s hand under the table and pulled her straight from her violent thoughts about Harry. And he didn’t lace his fingers between hers, instead, it felt as if he had just been looking for something to ground himself with. And her hand resting on her lap was the closest thing he could find. It didn’t, however, go unnoticed by Harry and his jaw clenched as he stared at the point in the table where, just below, there their hands met almost as if he was trying to set everything on fire.

Laura returned shortly after that. 

As promised, Adam paid the entirety of both his and Y/N’s bill, even though she attempted to snag it from him, seeing as the date had gone to shit and it was all her fault. Well… maybe it was also Harry’s fault a little bit too. But she definitely did nothing to make Laura jealous. Adam, on the other hand, did a great job at making Harry jealous just by existing and being Laura’s ex, whom she was still friends with. 

The four of them stood outside on the curb awaiting their Uber after dinner was over, agreeing upon splitting one car to get to the party instead of taking two. Laura was apparently very cautious about fossil fuel consumption.

Y/N shivered as she stood between Adam and Laura, wishing she’d bright a jacket instead of relying on a long-sleeve dress to keep her warm. Then an arm wrapped around her shoulders and Adam pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm to form heat. She tensed up, though, forming into an immovable brick. She had no idea the last time she’d been that close to another person, let alone a member of the opposite sex. When he felt her go rigid, he leaned down until his lips were at her ear. “Is this okay?”

She just nodded and tried to relax. Which turned out to be quite easy because Adam was warm and he smelled nice. She, of course, didn’t let her mind wander off too far. He was still in love with his ex. He’d still shove cash into her hand at the end of the night for her troubles and go on with his life.

Adam let go of her when the car pulled up and quickly went to the passenger door to confirm with the driver. Then he opened the back door for the three of them to climb in, Laura going first, then Harry, and, at last, Y/N, while Adam slipped into the front seat beside the driver.

While the car took off, Y/N was shoved into the corner when Harry moved closer to her in order to find both his and Laura’s seat buckles in the dark. Eventually, he settled back into the middle and gave her some space again. When she made no move to do the same as them, Harry turned to look down at her. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

Her eyes whirled up to his. Wordlessly, and of course after rolling her eyes, she grabbed her seatbelt and he made room for her to buckle it in. Then she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she stared out at the traffic through her window.

She would have stayed in that exact position the entire trip, too, if Harry’s knee didn’t insist on bumping into hers constantly. And she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.

When she glanced up at him, and found the corner of his lips curl upward, she figured it was, in fact, purposeful. So, with the hand closest to him as her arms were still crossed, she poked him in the side, right against his ribs, hoping it hurt.

“Ouch.” He whined, covering the spot with his hand dramatically. Everyone in the car glanced at Harry, all except for Y/N who snickered as she returned to staring out the window.

Harry wasn’t giving up, though. This time, with his arms crossed in his lap, and glancing at Laura to be sure she wasn’t watching, he walked his pointer and middle finger up the outside of Y/N’s thigh, close enough to her hip to make her squirm slightly when his touch tickled her. And as soon as he got her attention, he looked down at what he was doing and pressed his middle finger against her, meeting her gaze with a smirk.

In the same moment, the driver turned up the music in the car as they waited tirelessly at a red light. It was better than silence or listening to his passengers breathing. But Harry mentally thanked him and turned his attention back to Y/N, leaning into her slightly until his lips were at her ear and she shivered for an all new reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress before.” He whispered for her ears only. The music was especially loud in the back and he wasn’t sure Y/N had even heard him.

Especially since she didn’t respond right away. But how could she? Harry’s fingertips were still grazing her thigh, as if trying to emphasize the dress she had on. And his stupid knee was pressed right up against hers. She couldn’t think straight.

Though when she finally turned to him and whispered back, “Don’t get used to it,” he knew she had, in fact, heard him well enough. 

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.” 

She hated that there were butterflies in her stomach. That he was saying such odd things to her when his date was sitting just on the other side of him. The date who most definitely met all Harry’s standards.

Huddling away from him, she stuck her eyes out the window and kept them there the rest of the trip.

It was just past eight when they arrived, a fifteen-minute trip up through the city taking half an hour due to all the Valentine’s Day traffic. Another reason she hated this holiday.

The party was being held by Laura’s best friend, who’s name Y/N did not care to commit to memory. In the elevator ride up to the penthouse, though, Harry stood close to Laura, his arm wrapped around her waist and Adam to Y/N, although he didn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did, but she figured it was best to keep those boundaries in place anyway.

Pink and golden balloons littered the ceilings of the penthouse. The drink cups were also pink, as was the communal punch bowl that Y/N steered clear of, having no idea what was in it, or who had already spiked it. She knew nobody at the party besides who she’d come with, though she assumed both Adam and Harry were somewhat acquainted with Laura’s friends. 

It was most definitely not someplace Y/N ever saw herself being at, not only because it was a Valentine’s themed party, but also because she wasn’t exactly comfortable around so many people. Especially when those people were all so unfamiliar to her.

“Here,” Adam handed her a drink and then grabbed one for himself. She downed the thing in one go, needing to take the edge off. It might’ve been a slight mistake when the alcohol burned the back of her throat, but she didn’t care too much when she grabbed another.

Then he was leading her into the dancing pit of bodies where they huddled close enough so that his lips were at her ear. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

She glanced over at where Laura and Harry had been left, finding both her hazel eyes and Harry’s green ones glued to the both of them. She wasn’t sure what Harry’s deal was, but this was her moment to fix things and make Laura jealous, so, turning back to Adam, she nodded.

He eased his hands onto her waist as they began swaying to the music. And then he pulled her closer, his hands slipping to the small of her back as her arms wrapped around his neck, being careful with her own movements even though she desperately wanted to sink her hands in his hair.

And, god, he smelled so good as her head rested in the crook of his neck. And he felt good, too, as he moved against her body. She knew it wasn’t real, and that the alcohol was making skewing her perception of things, but it was still nice. Nice to be held and to just let go for a change.

Over Adam’s shoulder, Y/N caught Harry’s eyes again. His jaw clenched and he looked the same as he did back at the restaurant. Angry. And then she realized that maybe she wasn’t really trying to make Laura jealous anymore at all, but rather Harry.

It was dumb, she knew that. He’d have to like her in order for her to make him jealous. But… the way he was looking at her. The way he had looked at her. His eyes lingering too long on her lips. What he’d done in the car ride here. 

She heard Adam in her ear again. “I think it’s working. She just stormed off into the kitchen.” Then he pulled away and she realized she hadn’t even seen Laura. Just Harry. Harry and his stupid, obnoxious green eyes.

“You owe me more than just dinner.” Y/N teased but Adam grew serious.

“I know. And since you refuse to accept my money, I’ll have to figure out another way to repay you.” He smiled and then twirled her around so that she no longer had any line of sight toward Harry. He pulled her close again, one hand going to her waist while the other stayed locked to one of hers. “Suppose I could start with making your coworker just as jealous… although I think he already is.”

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him. 

“Oh, come on! He was ready to rip my head off when he realized I’d grabbed your hand. And when I put my arm around you? I thought I might be better off just giving you my jacket and freezing to death instead.”

“I don’t…” she shook her head in disbelief. It was one thing for her to be pretending to make Harry jealous in some delusional hope that it’d work. But this… this was a whole other thing.

“I’m actually quite interested to see what he does if I kissed you.”

She was shocked at first and then, possibly due to the alcohol, just as interested. “Are you asking my permission?”

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

Adam’s eyes scanned the room and Y/N realized he hadn’t asked to kiss her for Laura’s sake at all.

“She is.” He finally announced. 

Without any more second guessing, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of his neck and pulled him in. As soon as their lips collided and she tasted the alcohol on him, she knew that she’d never agreed to this without it. Or maybe she would. Adam spun them back around again, deepening the kiss as her eyes opened and fell into the direction she’d last seen Harry.

He was still there.

Still watching.

His hands in fists. His jaw tightened into a crisp line. His nostrils flared. His eyes… sad.

She pulled away. Adam steadied her, grabbing her shoulders when she swayed. But, as she caught her breath, the dizziness went away. 

“I’m going to find the bathroom.” She told him and after he nodded, she left, forming a rift for herself through the bodies that danced all around them until she was in the clear. Then she was avoiding Harry as she walked past him, not so sure his gaze was still set on her. Maybe she’d gone too far. She didn’t often just kiss people for no good reason and that’s exactly what she’d just done with Adam. She barely even knew him.

She didn’t exactly need the bathroom, just an open, empty and quiet place. And so, she fell back against a wall in the foyer and ran a hand through her hair.

“That was quite the show.”

She startled at the sound of his familiar voice and looked up just as he stopped a few feet away from her. “What are you talking about?”

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe that that you, anti everything to do with this holiday and with relationships and romance, are actually dating that guy?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” She crossed her arms, willing to go as far as she needed to before she let Harry see the truth. That she was that pathetic. 

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to respond and she flinched.

“Well, I’m sorry that you have a hard time believing that someone may actually like me.” She had no reason to nearly be shouting at him and no reason to be saying what she was because Adam didn’t like her.

“That’s not what I said. It’s hard for me to believe you just dropped all your ideas about relationships for some guy with obnoxious blue eyes.”

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

Y/N hesitated. Hating that the truth was about to boil over out of her mouth for him to see all the embarrassing bits of it, but she had no other way of convincing him. And it didn’t really help that Adam was so far out of her league that it wasn’t even convincing to begin with. Nor did she want to convince Harry of anything either. It was clear now that he hadn’t been jealous, he was just trying to figure out when she stopped hating relationships so much.

And the truth of that was she never really hated them. It was just easier telling herself she didn’t want it than admitting no one ever actually wanted her.

She trembled, not even sure why, but he was making her incredibly nervous, so much that she wished she could rewind and stay squished next to him in the back of the car forever. Being that close to him... his stupid fingers on her thigh, whispering things in her ear that made her head spin. She’d much prefer that than standing in front of him now, seeing every ounce of judgment he was about to throw her way.

“What do you want me to say, Harry?” She shrugged and dropped her eyes to the white marble floors between them, focusing on calming her anxiety while she was no longer looking at him. “He needed a date and I felt bad for him.”

“What does that mean?”

Letting her head fall back against the wall, she stared up at the ceiling this time as her eyes burned with embarrassment. “He paid me to be his date so his ex-girlfriend didn’t find out he wasn’t actually seeing anyone. That’s what it means.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“So, yeah.” She folded her arms, looking down at the floor again, still unable to meet Harry’s eyes and see the look that would be on his face. A smirk of amusement at her expense. Even probably his dimples, taunting her and turning her into the joke she already was. “You were right. I can’t find anyone to tolerate me, which is why I’m on this stupid date that isn’t even real.”

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

There was more exasperation than humor to her laugh. “It wasn’t.”

Harry seemed to finally understand. “He’s trying to make Laura jealous.”

Y/N just nodded. “I promise I didn’t know you were going to be there, that he was trying to get her back from you.”

“You still kissed him though.”

She couldn’t argue that, nor could she tell him the real reason she’d agreed to the kiss. That it wasn’t exactly Laura she was trying to make jealous. She’d never live that one down, if she ever managed to live any other aspect of this night down.

When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “Why did you kiss him?”

“I’m sorry, Harry I just... I don’t know.”

He shook his head and took another step, making her eyes widen when he was close enough that she had to crane her head back to meet his gaze. “Seemed like you were trying to make me jealous.”

She swallowed, not exactly in the position to laugh it off and argue with him when he was this close and all she could feel were the traces of his fingertips on her thigh. Her voice was quiet when it finally came out. “Making you jealous would mean I assumed you liked me in the first place... which I’m definitely not stupid enough to assume.”

A crease formed between his brow and his stupidly perfect jaw hardened as if he was biting his tongue from saying something. And fuck him for choosing then to finally stop opening his mouth.

Just then, a pair of drunk guys, one on the other’s back, came racing through the foyer, screaming at the top of their lungs while a few others followed quickly after them. It was enough to force Harry away from Y/N again, enough for the both of them to step out of the little bubble they’d been in together the past ten minutes.

Once they were alone again, their eyes gravitated toward each other and just when she thought Harry might say something after all, he flipped around on his heel and left. And she watched as he turned the corner and mixed back into the party.

After a few moments to gather herself, she followed him, not exactly sure what she was going to do now that Harry wouldn’t talk to her and it felt weird being with Adam while Harry knew everything. But, whatever plans to keep herself occupied no longer matted when she spotted Laura.

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room. 

Without even thinking, she turned to locate Harry and he might as well have been a source of gravity because her eyes fell right to him within a second. And he was watching them too. He knew. 

He met Y/N’s eyes and she wasn’t quite sure if he was upset or not. She couldn’t really read anything on his face, and stopped attempting to when he moved towards her and she had other things on her mind, like where he was going and if he was going to bother taking her with him.

Shortly after he stormed past Y/N she made sure he wasn’t going to leave her behind and chased after him. She didn’t know Adam very well and definitely not Laura to want to stay with them. And everyone else in the room were complete strangers to her. Adam had promised he’d take her home, but he probably hadn’t expected to be making out with his ex by the end of the night, either.

Harry didn’t say anything, not even when they’d reached the foyer and Y/N asked where he was going. He just located his jacket and slipped it on before making his way out the front door.

And right when she thought he really was going to leave her behind, since she was the reason he’d just lost Laura to her ex, he held the door open and glanced over his shoulder at her while she still stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Are you staying?”

Without a word, she sprung into motion and trailed right behind him into the hallway like a lost puppy, letting the door shut behind her that cut them off from the music as it faded into the background behind them.

It was a silent trip down the elevator, mostly because she had no idea what to say that would sound sincere and he didn’t say anything at all. At least not until she followed him through the lobby until he stopped on the curb just outside the main doors.

She took up the spot next to him, eyes glued to the side of his face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air, or at least as fresh as traffic allowed it to be.

Then he spoke, and it seemed like the first time she’d heard his voice all night. “I’m the one who gave you the chocolates and the frog.”

She narrowed her eyes, both not exactly sure why he’d just said that or if he was even being serious. “What?”

He looked down at her. “It wasn’t Andrew, it was me.”

“Why?” She breathed and while she was positive she’d be freezing cold soon, the fresh air after being surrounded by so many people felt good. It felt freeing and she wondered if he felt that way too.

His eyes scanned hers before he looked away. “Well partly to apologize for what I said.”

“What’s the other part?”

Sighing, he turned his entire body to face her now. “Something else entirely…” He trailed off, only confusing her more as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like all this stuff, but seeing you with him tonight... I wish I had.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a frog.”

He shook his head, grinning. “It’s not just a frog, Y/N... because the thing is,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ve been in love with you for... a really long time… since last spring. But with you being the way that you are, I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“And then you come in with that guy and...” He pulled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous in my life... because all this time I thought you weren’t interested in relationships, but you just weren’t interested in me.”

Inhaling, she summoned every ounce of courage she could fathom. “You were right about why I kissed Adam.” He lifted a brow, waiting for her elaboration which never came. “You were right about other things, too. I wish I had someone to come home to almost every single night I got to bed alone. No one—“ She cut herself off, trembling again as tears stung her eyes. “I pretend not to be interested so I can ignore the fact that no one’s ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.” He had that same look on his face as before, when she’d told him she wasn’t stupid enough to think he liked her.

She just nodded. “And I’m sorry but... why would you want me when you could have someone like Laura?”

“Y/N...” He huffed and stepped closer to her, the heat from his body making her shiver. “This is not the first time I started seeing someone to get over you... in fact, all my relationships since I met you have been shit.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well you’re very anti-relationships so I think I was justified in wanting to avoid you rejecting me… especially since we work together and it would have been really awkward.”

“I don’t, uh... I...” She stammered, not really sure what to say to him even though her heart was screaming at her in full volume. 

He held his breath and then, in almost a whisper, “Is this the inevitable rejection?”

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate that time and at this point, her mind no longer controlled the words coming out of her mouth as she let another organ finally speak for itself. “No, I liked you the second I saw you, Harry... and at no point tonight was I ever trying to make Laura jealous.”

The corners of his mouth began to curl into a smile. “That was very cruel of you to do to me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me at all twenty minutes ago, Harry.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” he fully invaded all of her space now, leaving the smallest gap between their bodies as he could get away with, lifting his hand to her jaw and rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I was still on this date with the wrong person.” 

“I think the date is over now.”

“No,” his eyes fell to her lips just like they had before. “It’s not.” 

“You’re looking at me like that again.” She mumbled, out of breath.

He lifted a brow and didn’t once remove his eyes from her lips. “Like what?”

“Like…” she trailed off, not having the courage to say it in case she wasn’t right. 

“Like I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time and I’m tired of pretending?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

He grinned, both of his dimples making an appearance just before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. And once her brain realized what was happening, she sunk right into him, letting his arm wrap around her waist as his other hand tangled its way into her hair to bring her closer. She threw her arms over his shoulders and he hunched lower to meet her. She staggered back a step when he did, nearly losing her balance but he caught her instantly and then drew his lips back as he laughed.

“This is not how I expected tonight to end.” She couldn’t help but think the way he struggled to catch his breath was possibly the hottest he’d ever been. Not to mention the tiny bit of her lipstick smeared on his face. She could look at him just the way he was right there and then for days and be perfectly satisfied.

“It doesn’t have to end yet.” She fully blamed her sudden burst of confidence on the cold, but refreshing February night. And maybe she also just wanted to get out of it before it caught up to her and she would, yet again, regret not having a jacket.

“Oh?” She wanted to smack the mischievous smirk off his face and leave him there on the curb. “And here I thought you were a prude.”

“You thought a lot of things about me that weren’t true, Harry.”

He thought about that for a moment and after realizing she was right, he then wondered just how wrong he was when he’d called her celibate. “I suppose… I’d quite like to find out just how wrong I was.” He slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear, which is where his lips ended up as he whispered softly, “And I’d also quite like to show you just how wrong you were about me not liking you.”

They stumbled into her bedroom in the dark, Pretzel racing out between their twisted feet in a hurry, screeching at them in the process. Harry giggled against her lips, “Your cat sounds friendly.” 

“Well, since I was supposed to be spending tonight with her, and chocolate, and anti-romantic movies…” She pulled away from him, watching as his smile spread further. Maybe she could actually believe he’d been in love all this time. 

“Right… I’d be upset too.” 

She shook her head and kissed him again, then pulled back a second later. “You know that’s not actually what I do on Valentine’s Day.”

He lifted a brow and waited for her to explain but she didn’t.

“And what is it that you do, then?” He finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, although he had some inkling as to what she was talking about.

Her smile was devoid of innocence as her hands fell to his belt. Harry’s shirt had already been lost to the kitchen floor. Her dress hardly covering what it was supposed to once Harry had gotten his hands on it. 

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.” 

When she brought her lips back to his, after undoing the buckle just under his navel, he spun them around and led her backwards to the bed. He wasn’t sure how far it was, but hoped he was headed in the right direction. And because of that, when her knees did finally bend over the mattress, he practically came flying down on top of her. 

She squirmed out from under him, crawling back towards the pillows as she watched him at the end of the bed while he stood and removed his belt completely, trying not to drool at the sight of him. At the sight of Harry, her fucking annoying ass, perfect, beautiful, coworker standing shirtless at the end of her bed where he was also about to be…

He pushed his trousers down off his hips and they fell to the floor with ease, almost with the same amount of ease that her eyes fell to the tight boxer-briefs he wore underneath. She swallowed as he adjusted the waistband back into place, quite certain that, even in the low light, her eyes were not deceiving her.

The bed shifted at her feet as he joined her, and then it took all her willpower to not fling herself at him as he crawled up the length of her. As he settled himself between her thighs and she felt every last, very hard, inch of him pressed against her. She couldn’t be blamed for the whining moan that she let out in his ear as his lips became familiar with the shape and taste of her neck. She also couldn’t be blamed when her hips instinctively collided with his.

He just giggled again and shook his head, the loose strands of his curls tickling her forehead. “Easy now.” He warned in a hushed mumble, his lips vibrating right against the vein in her neck that pulsed so much faster the more his free hand began to wander up underneath her dress.

He left her speechless for multiple reasons, but the main one was when she felt his fingers tracing down her thigh and then, moments later, after he shifted his weight and used his knees to keep her legs open, she sucked in a breath of air as she felt him pressed against her clit, forcing her nails to dig into his back but he didn’t seem to mind.

Coming back down to kiss her, he began moving his hand in expert little circles, grinning against her mouth every time her body begged him for more. It wasn’t long that he complied, either, when he sat back on his knees between her legs and tugged her underwear off for good, throwing it to the depths of her bedroom floor. He wouldn’t have known where they landed even if he tried because his gaze belong to her only as he lowered himself to his elbows before her, kissing his way up her thighs until he reached her center.

When she squirmed away from him, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into her hips after gently moving her dress out of the way. 

“You know when we used to stay late at the office working?” He asked suddenly and the heat of his voice against her made her squirm again, but he held on tight. “And you would get sick of sitting in an office chair and made me promise not to tell Jim when you sat on his desk instead?” She had no clue where he was going with it, but still, she nodded. “Every single time I turned to look at you, I thought about doing this.” Before she could get words out or even a coherent thought, she felt his tongue on her. And this time when she jerked against him, she nearly slipped out of his hold until he grabbed her again and pulled her back down, digging himself further into her as she struggled to breathe properly.

She dug her fingers into his hair when he brought her close to the edge and showed no mercy. And somehow, she’d managed to get the sole of her foot up onto his shoulder in order to kick him away, but it didn’t matter much because he never budged. Not that she wanted him to, but he just felt so good… 

“Harry!” She shouted, pulling at his hair and making matters worse for herself when he moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He let her come, never once lifting his mouth from her even as her hips jerked off the mattress and she very nearly pulled his hair out. When she stopped screaming, her voice caught in her throat because she was lost to her own orgasm, is when he lifted his mouth, replaced it with his fingers and watched her as she came down. As her eyes fluttered shut and her chest heaved, her lungs struggling to get oxygen back into her system. Her hold on him loosened as she came undone around him, melting into his hands it seemed like.

And when he began rubbing his index and middle finger into her, once she was far and beyond overstimulated, and he knew that, she reached down with a whine and grabbed his wrist with what little strength she had in her and pulled him away. His hand fell to the other side of her hip, which he used to his advantage to pull himself up over her again, his other hand taking her dress with it until he was able to tug it over her head and toss it. Then he came back down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on her lips. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and when he pulled away, found her looking at him finally. Although it was with heavy lids as she still struggled to regain her bearings.

Before they could get much further, a loud crashing sound from the other room made both of them nearly jump out of their skin. She shot up instantly, grabbing hold of Harry’s bicep before moving him out of the way and sliding off the edge of the bed. 

“It’s just the cat.” Harry would have probably said the same thing even if it was not just the cat, he’d say anything just to get her to stay with him.

“I know but it sounded like…” her voice trailed off as her feet hit the floor and the moment she went to stand on her own two legs, her knees buckled. He reached to grab her waist but she righted herself before he could. She didn’t see the way he hid his cheeky smirk at the fact that he’d been so good, she was still dizzy.

“You good?” He asked as she stumbled her way into a shirt. With only a groan in response, and what he was sure was her middle finger, she left him alone in her bed to investigate the noise. Sighing, he laid on his back and got comfortable amongst her pillows. And after about three minutes, decided to locate the remote to her TV to entertain himself. 

He flipped onto his side and felt around her bedside table, but his fingers never landed on anything remote-like. So, frustrated, he reached up and switched the lamp on. Again, he found nothing. Looking further, he realized the table had a drawer and so he pulled it open in hopes of finding the damned remote before she got back. 

But what he found instead was so much better than turning on late night news.

“Fucking cat knocked over my vase.” Y/N was back within ten minutes. Harry had left the light on, but made sure it wasn’t obvious he’d gone snooping into her drawer, at least not yet anyway. She crawled back into bed beside him and it was then he noticed the bandage on her thumb.

“Are you alright?” He forgot all about what he planned to tease her with when he gently grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“Yeah. I was in a bit of hurry trying to clean up the glass…” 

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. “I would have come help you.”

She just smiled up at him as he fit his arm around her shoulders, his bicep under her neck. “That’s alright.”

He shrugged. “It was for the best anyways that I didn’t.” When he smirked, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

“And why’s that?”

She followed his other hand as he reached for something and then, moments later, it reappeared with a very familiar pink object clutched in his grasp. “Because then I wouldn’t have found this.”

Her first reaction was to pry it from his snooping fingers, but when she reached across him to grab it, he way too easily held her back and, at the same time, held it far out of her reach. 

“So this is what you do on Valentine’s Day, then?” He flicked his wrist back and forth, waving her vibrator in the air as he taunted her.

“If you don’t give that back to me,” she reached for it again to no prevail, “you won’t be doing anything, least of all, me.”

He clicked his tongue. “Why would I give it back when I plan on using it?”

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

“Would be rude of me to break your traditions, wouldn’t it?” 

She swallowed, her eyes slowly meeting his again. The appearance of his right dimple told her he wasn’t playing any games. She had no idea how many times he planned to make her come tonight or whether or not she’d even be able to walk tomorrow at work. But, given the stupid look on his face, she almost began making plans to call out sick instead.

“Do you actually know how to use that thing?” She finally asked, glancing at the wand still held very firmly in his hand.

He looked at her like she was crazy moments before he pivoted and pinned her onto her back, settling himself into the position they’d been in before the interruption of the cat. 

Just, this time… he was clicking on her vibrator and watching her face as she began to regret her words. 

“‘Course I know how to use it. The real question is,” he brought his lips to her ear, the soft vibrations and the sound of his voice mixing together like sin itself. Even more so when he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you know how to handle it?”

#1dffvalentine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine

[nasa]

What Would NASA Imagery Experts Pack for the Moon?

We are one step closer to landing the first woman and the next man on the Moon, and we want to know: What would you take with you to the Moon? 🌙

We are getting ready for our Green Run Hot Fire test, which will fire all four engines of the rocket that will be used for the Artemis I mission. This test will ensure the Space Launch System — the most powerful rocket ever built — is ready for the first and future missions beyond Earth’s orbit to the Moon.  

In celebration of this important milestone, we’ve been asking you — yes, you! — to tell us what you would pack for the Moon with the hashtag #NASAMoonKit!

To provide a little inspiration, here are some examples of what NASA imagery experts would put in their Moon kits:

“The first thing that went into my #NASAMoonKit was my camera. Some of the most iconic photographs ever taken were captured on the surface of the Moon by NASA astronauts. The camera has to go. The hat and sunscreen will be a must to protect me from the unfiltered sunlight. Warm socks? Of course, my feet are always cold. A little “Moon Music” and a photo of Holly, the best dog in the world, will pass the time during breaks.  Lastly, I need to eat. Water and gummy peach rings will go in a small corner of my pack.”

— Marv Smith, Lead Photographer, NASA Glenn Research Center 

“I may not always pack light, but I tried to only pack the essentials — with a couple of goodies. I get cold fairly easily hence the blanket, extra NASA shirt, hat and gloves. No trip is complete without my favorite snack of almonds, water, sunglasses, lip balm, phone, and my headphones to listen to some music. I figured I could bring my yoga mat, because who wouldn’t want to do yoga on the Moon? The most important part of this kit is my camera! I brought a couple of different lenses for a variety of options, along with a sports action camera, notebook and computer for editing. The Van Gogh doll was just for fun!”

— Jordan Salkin, Scientific Imaging, NASA Glenn Research Center

“The first thing I thought of for my #NASAMoonKit was the first book I ever read when I was learning to read. It is about going on a journey to the Moon. I really liked that book and read it many times, looking at the illustrations and wondering about if I would ever actually go to the Moon. Of the many belongings that I have lost through the years from moving, that book has stayed with me and so it would, of course, go to the Moon with me. A family photo was second to get packed since we always had photos taken and volumes of old family photos in the house. Photography has played an important role in my life so my camera gear is third to get packed. As a kid I spent a lot of time and money building rockets and flying them. I bet my rocket would go very high on the Moon. I also like a little candy wherever I go.”  

— Quentin Schwinn, Scientific Imaging, NASA Glenn Research Center

“I couldn’t go to the moon without my two mirrorless digital SLR cameras, lenses, my 120 6x4.5 film camera, several rolls of 120 film, my singing bowl (for meditation), my wireless printer, my son’s astronaut toy, several pictures of both my sons and wife, my oldest son’s first shoes (they are good luck), cell phone (for music and extra photos), tablet and pen (for editing and books), my laptop, and my water bottle (I take it everywhere).”

— Jef Janis, Photographer, NASA Glenn Research Center  

“I’m taking my NASA coffee mug because let’s be honest; nothing is getting done on the moon until I’ve had my morning coffee out of my favorite mug. I’m taking two cameras: the 360-degree camera and the vintage range finder camera my father bought during the Korean War when he was a Captain and Base Doctor in the Air Force. I’m also taking my awesome camera socks so I can be a fashion embarrassment to my family in space as well as on Earth. The lucky rabbit is named Dez — for years I have carried her all over the world in my pocket whenever I needed a little good luck on a photo shoot. She’s come along to photograph hurricanes, presidents, and sports championships. Being from New Orleans, I would love to be the first to carry out a Mardi Gras tradition on the moon, flinging doubloons and beads to my fellow astronauts (especially if we are up there during Carnival season). I also want to take a picture of this picture on the moon so my wife and son know they are with me no matter where I go. Lastly, it’s a well-known fact that space travelers should always bring a towel on their journey.”

— Michael DeMocker, photographer, videographer & UAS, Michoud Assembly Facility

“I couldn’t go to the Moon without my camera, a 45-rpm vinyl record (My husband’s band — I really want to know how a record sounds in space. Gravity is what makes the needle lay on the record so will the change in gravity make it sound different?), a book to read, a photograph of my daughter, my phone or rather my communication and photo editing device, a snack, and I definitely couldn’t go to the Moon without my moon boots!”

— Bridget Caswell, Photographer, NASA Glenn Research Center  

#nasamoonkit #moon #travel #packinglist #artemis #photography #explore #adventure #space #astronaut

[ktffansub]

Bijutsu Techo: Boys Love – Interview: Yoneda Kou

This article was first published in November 17th, 2014. Translated from Japanesse to Bahasa Indonesia by kalengjelek and then translated from Bahasa Indonesia to English by KTFfansub. Source: here

When did you first encounter manga?

I was born in a family with three daughters; while my older sister likes reading Ribbon magazine, I like reading Nakayoshi. It was the era of Asagiri Yuu-sensei, when I was in elementary school. My favorite at that time were Kusunoki Kei sensei’s works and Patlabor. When it came to Shonen, I would say I was more into Shounen Sunday. I also loved Kawaraha Izumi sensei’s works. When I think about it, rather than manga that were full of passion, I’d actually prefer manga that had calm and soothing kind of vibe.

Is that so… What about BL?

When I was in Junior High, my older sister showed me Captain Tsubasa Doujinshi by Ozaki Minami and I was dumbfounded, I thought, “So, there’s also a world like this!”. After that, I started to buy BL manga. At that time, the mangaka who left the most impression to me was Nishi Keikosensei. Her works such as Mizu Ga Koori Ni Naru Toki, Tenshi Ni Naranakya have unique openings, it made me reread them many times. Uida Shiuko (now Kano Shiuko) and Yoshinaga Fumi Sensei are also my favorite mangaka.

When was the first time you draw manga?

I seriously began drawing manga in my first year of junior high. At first, I drew a pair of man and woman, but after page three, I felt something was off. So, I tried drawing BL for the next one. Just like the present, I’ve always loved less expressive and less-talkactive main characters (laughs). But the more I draw, then an attentive senpai with good personality and short haired ones like Togawa in Doushitemo Furetakunai also appeared. At that moment I thought, “Oh, this is it!”

You really weren’t embarrassed, are you? (laughs)

Well, it’s because it was embarrassing, that’s why I’m not really open about my drawing manga activity.

(laughs) But you debut as professional mangaka eventually, how did that happen?

Yes, after that… I worked as office lady. I got married not long after, but then, I was getting through a marriage blues. At that time, I was invested in Kakashi and Naruto shown by my older sister along with Comiket catalogue.

The power of moe beats out your anxiety (laughs)

It’s true (laughs). Escaping from reality, I checked a lot of circles and opened some sites. There I found a work from a novelist (now has debuted professionally) that I really liked. This is why I started writing novel at first, not drawing. I have a lot of ways to accommodate my moe needs. I also once drew Doujinshi but due to my inability to use a proper diction, the result wasn’t optimal (laughs). After drawing slowly and more at ease, I got into Katekyo Hitman Reborn fandom and drew a lot of doujinshi for that series. A year later, I was contacted by Taiyou Tosho publisher.

“With that publisher, Yoneda Kou published Doushitemo Furetakunai which has been adapted into a movie. Since the beginning, Yoneda Kou didn’t draw one-shot but serialization. For the movie, even though it only tells a story of daily lives, but the directing, composition and dialogue are impressive. About 4,5 years later, the second volume of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai that had the yakuza neighborhood setting was released. This has completely different feeling compared to Doushitemo Furetakunai.”

My first work was actually published in Drap, so I had it adjusted to be a less-heavy work. That’s why I ended up switching to another magazine.

Was it a demand from the editor?

Of course I only draw what I want to draw. But without realizing, I always draw them to fit the magazine. And it seems like Taiyou Tosho prefers me to draw more simple work.

So, sensei is the type who pays attention to editor’s suggestion. When you wrote the first chapter of Saezuru Tori Wa Habatakanai, did you already want Yashiro to be the main character (for longterm series)?

Right. I didn’t explain it in the first one-shot, but I always believe that no matter how you look at it, Yashiro really loved Kageyama. And (even though he’s drawn like that) he is actually a neko (uke). I think he is an interesting character. When I drew highschooler Yashiro and others, it had been decided that I wanted to write a serialization for this.

And only then the character Doumeki was born?

At that time, the character Doumeki didn’t exist, but I thought very hard about what kind of partner that would be suitable for Yashiro. I took a break from drawing for about two years. I only worked on illustration during that time, until one morning an idea suddenly came to me, “That’s right! Erectile dysfunction!”. I immediately sent an email to my editor: “A perverted impotent man!” (laughs). Afterwards, I finally worked on the first draft.

(laughs hard) Finally, the combination of Yashiro and Doumeki who are the opposite of each other was decided. What an amazing couple that can even make the readers losing sleep.

I do have this particular interest in people’s decision and behaviour resulted from a contrasting relationship that is full of conflicts. Because there are so many characters in Saezuru, I have this excel file compiling the plot for each character chronologically. Otherwise, I would’ve forgotten about it. If I didn’t seriously research (the setting of my own story), I wouldn’t be able to write anything when I made name. But even though I got through it, drawing a family with no blood ties like yakuza was still difficult. If I don’t focus, the story might turn out like Nagara Sakugyou*. That’s why now I’m just focusing on doing Saezuru.

*) nagara sakugyou: other work that being serialized at the same time

Up until now, Sensei has published 5 volumes and all of them have beautiful covers with varied tones.

Actually, the cover color for Doushitemo Furetakunai should’ve looked like red wine, but it seemed like there was an error in printing so the pink was contrasting into it. But it turned out to be good.

Then about the cover for the Saezuru first volume. It’s so impressive! The stepped-on man! All the people around me also had high appraise for this.

Actually, there were so many things happened in the process. By taking the request (it isn’t clearly explained whether it’s from editor/designer) of “Yashiro sitting alone”, I first submitted that illustration to the book designer. However, I couldn’t throw away the idea of Yashiro being stepped on, so, during the next three days I was stressed out. I’ve finally asked them to keep my idea and that’s how the cover of the first volume ended up the way it is now.

I see! For the second volume, it’s totally different, isn’t it? It’s a scenery, but when you do a double take, there are Yashiro and Doumeki!

I always want to give a different vibe in each volume. Actually I’m also a fan of the way Tsumugi Taku-sensei draws scenery.

Hoo-, sensei is a fan of Tsumugi sensei! Talking abough NIGHTS, when you open the cover, there’s a surprise in it!

Yes, if you look at the rough sketches there were 4 pages of picture that were interconnected. In the end, the desainer took picture number two as the cover and number four to put it on the bottom of the back cover. For Soredemo, I didn’t get any guide from the book designer. I combined the the feel of the story with a touch of water paint. At first, I actually wanted to make Deguchi pulling Onoda’s hand to get out of the train, but it ended up looking like Deguchi forced Onoda to stay (with him). So I decided it’s Onoda who’s getting off the train by himself with Deguchi waiting on the platform.

Do you do the coloring with computer? How about the non-colored script?

I use SAI for coloring but for monochrome I usually draw by my hand until the inking, then I do the tone using photoshop.

Do you self-learned drawing?

Well, I at least bought a lot of ‘pose reference’ books often. When it comes to buy things, it feels great, doesn’t it? But when it comes to manga, we draw to tell our moe concept.. well, I love drawing moe concept, but the thing is- I’m not really good at drawing. I like thinking about moe stuff, I also like to combine colors (inside my head) but when I do, I have no desire to draw I, even though that’s the important part. There are often times when I feel like drawing is a handful. In short, I want to draw something that isn’t too troublesome.

But, isnt it because you’re doing manga seriously that it feels difficult?

Because I’m too serious I feel like the story can be boring. Not only the work but also the author (laughs). I often read comments saying my manga is ‘down to earth’. I guess it’s shown obviously in every each of my works

Sure, there are people who think like, “In real world, there’s no way a wakagashira can be as masochist as Yashiro”, but apart from that, Saezuru still gives an impression of it being realistic. In drawing the important men’s arms and muscles in your work, sensei has done your best. Getting into the story, the characters also put extra effort to look elegant. Despite the young age, in a positive sense, sensei’s works feels like having Showa* vibe.

(*SHOWA ERA: 1926~1989)

I’m no longer young, though (laughs). Maybe this is why my works often get called “JUNE”. Especially Saezuru, I think it really fits (JUNE concept).

Are you an organized person?

I’m actually a person who have no chill (laughs). But I have this side of myself who tend to see things as a whole, look at my surrounding then step on the brake. There is also a side of me that is so energetic in creating my own moe that I turn into a selfish person. I guess that’s also my flaw.

It seems like sensei is the type who has her own editorial meeting inside her head (laughs)

I wish it’s not true, but unfortunately, I’m the type of person who is embarrased to admit that I have a relationship with manga. Even until now I have yet told my close friends about this job (as BL mangaka). I’m not that kind of person who like to share or tell others about my moe situation inside my head. When my moe concept is being visualized in public I would scream, “Don’t look! But if you want to read it, I’d be happy”. Yes, I’m that kind of person.

I wonder if sensei’s works are the manifestation of sensei’s own self-contradictions..

#saezuru #doumeki #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #yashiro #yoneda kou #interview

[yeolmae-s]

a chanbaek analysis from a veteran exo-l

before anything else there are a few disclaimers i'd like to make:

i am writing this analysis right now because as a non exo stan i'm not into chanbaek that much anymore. of course i like them to some degree since i'm writing this and all but it's nothing in comparison to the way i felt about them two years ago. so i feel like it's easier to keep a less clouded (?) state of mind being where i'm at right now, mentally, in regards to them. i feel like i can look at things more objectively, which is why i decided to write this and share it with you all.

for all the smart asses out there, this is a ship analysis. yes, i’m reading too much into everything. that’s what an analysis is.

all translation credits goes to @/fyeah-chanyeol

i'm a chanyeol stan. this analysis will, most likely, have more information about him in comparison to baekhyun. this is simply because i consumed more content about him since he's my bias (such as magazine interviews, fancams).

i don't stan exo anymore, but it's not because of anything they did. i liked them for a long time and made a lot of different friends because of this fandom, therefore i experienced a lot of hurt, scandals, fights and didn't deal very well with many things, so i decided to leave. this didn't happen because of exo themselves and neither did it happen because of the fandom itself. it happened because of the relationships i had.

that being said, i haven't been following them closely for the past year and a half, but i still keep up with stuff a bit, although not chanbaek related stuff since i gotta dive in kinda deeper for that lmao. so this analysis is mostly in depth for 2012-2018. if anything that you perceive as significant happened after 2018 i'm more than willing to hear your opinions about it.

so, let's get started!!

MAMA ERA

I have always felt like Chanyeol and Baekhyun's relationship was strange. I started shipping them when they debuted and more specifically because of the 130128 ISAC. When I was younger I didn't see a lot to discuss in their ISAC interactions besides it being cute and shippy, but I've started to look at it differently now.

I think everyone knows how ISAC is known for being basically a stage for fanservice. The whole "dating ground for idols" issue aside, judging from the amount of attention they direct towards the fans who manage to attend the event, idols are clearly instructed to perform fanservice. EXO's first ISAC had to be full of it, obviously, and they did give fans a lot to be happy about, content we still get giddy about to this day, and I'm sure they were instructed to act like this to please us. I don't believe that fanservice equals "false interactions": if two individuals are talking, touching each other, they are interacting, even if it is a carefully planned setting made specifically for pleasing fans. They still get reactions out of one another through these interactions, it is still relevant to the way these people's relationship will develop; even though these acts are done with the intent of pleasing a crowd.

Don't get me wrong, though. I don't think the 2013 ISAC fanservice changed anything in Chanbaek's relationship. In fact, I just want to use it as a way to illustrate something I will explain later on.

To be remembered in an industry you must have an image. You won't be getting anywhere without a carefully constructed visual image. Marilyn Monroe is always used as an example of this: she's someone you can easily make a costume of and people will instantly recognize it as her. She's basically a concept by now: blonde hair, red lips and white hair. These aspects take our mind back to her instantly. Of course, most celebrities don't achieve this type of icon status, but it is still important to cling to a specific concept/image of what you want your celebrity self to be perceived as. Without this, you'll be forgotten as soon as your career ends.

When Chanyeol debuted, he clung to the first trait they gave him: being a happy person, a.k.a "happy virus". If you were not an EXO fan back in 2013 then it's likely you're not even aware of this nickname that was given to him, but it's basically just what it sounds like (lol). He was bright, energetic, had a "teeth rich" smile (another nickname that was given to him back then), was able to give 10/10 laughter reactions to MCs and to his members jokes, was always enthusiastic to interact and smile towards fans. He even introduced himself as "happy virus Chanyeol" in interviews (and later on that changed to "EXO's voice Chanyeol" or "EXO's rapper Chanyeol").

I feel like Chanyeol was very much aware of this "must have" that I mentioned, this need to have an image pasted into yourself and have that image be what people will remember you as. We're all complex and multifaceted individuals, but the general public needs something simple to grab on to, something easy to remember. That happy guy from EXO? I know who he is! I'm sure this is the path Chanyeol chose, back when he debuted: to pick a trait given to you by the public and make it a huge part of your image.

However, that image of him didn't last very long. It certainly became tiring to worry so much about how he was being perceived, to carefully construct something so his career would last, specially when his group had so many scandals and went through a sudden burst of popularity that changed their lives completely. By 2017, Chanyeol already had a change of mind in relation to his career, these changes being mostly due to how he felt about music and what he wanted to do with it.

He recognized himself as having always being impatient, which might be the reason why he clung to a specific image so fast right after debuting:

From Fall Magazine in 2017

"At the moment I just want to enjoy myself with the music as it comes, without feeling as though I have to do something. It isn’t a greed from impatience, I could call it more of a greed to do better."

"When I first debuted I thought I was very optimistic, but as time has passed I think a more reserved side of me is showing."

"I think I've grown in many ways. Maybe it’s because it’s as though I perform everyday, but the stage has become comfortable for me. Shall we say I’ve become more calm and composed? [...] I think I’ve become more mature."

He matured. He's still bright and energetic but he's also more reserved. He managed to keep up the fanservice that his fans adore in a way that is more fitting to his actual personality. It still is an image, but an image that's not as exhausting as his previous one, with its strict demands to act in a certain way all the time. I remember specific interview with MCs demanding him to smile (although jokingly, of course) saying things like "Aren't you EXO's happy virus?", so I'm sure he felt pressured.

This is interesting to think about when put side by side with his relationship with Baekhyun. Back when they debuted, Chanyeol and Baekhyun were close friends that clearly felt comfortable with each other, and it isn't surprising to think that Baekhyun would be Chanyeol's first pick when he thought about doing fanservice with someone. Of course, I can't exactly pinpoint their first fanservice moment since I'm not a walking EXO encyclopedia anymore, but I can say with certainty that both of them felt like it worked as soon as they first tried it with the fans, and that's the reason why they kept doing it. Conveniently, they were both good friends, so all was good.

Until well, it wasn't.

At some point, Chanyeol's interactions with Baekhyun seemed too eager for Baekhyun himself. There are various moments where this is visible, such as this one:

Why are you grabbing my wrist out of nowhere young man........

Or...

That one pic where Jongdae, who was in front of them, looked so damn uncomfortable I can't even bring myself to google it

Of course, they had some over the top fanservice that did work out pretty well, such as this one, both of them imitating Jonghyun's and Taemin's Internet War stage, which seems a little scripted now that I look at it properly, with Baekhyun seemingly expecting Chanyeol to do whatever it is that he did on that day. (Can you imagine this: both of them backstage, watching Jonghyun's and Taemin's performance in silence, and one of them just blurts out "We should do that too!". What the fuck was going on)

By the way, if you have never seen the original Internet War performance, you can watch it here.

This is what they were imitating.

Tumblr won’t let me upload the gifs for this moment for some reason, so here and here.

You can't tell me Baekhyun wasn't expecting it already, lol.

Now, know what this moment reminds me of? ISAC. On their Internet War imitation moment, Baekhyun seemed fine, playful, even, agreeing. During ISAC, however, doing basically the same thing again (this time on a lighter way even; since they weren't, you know. Imitating a strong performance such as Internet War.), he appears reluctant. It's a bit painful to watch.

What changed? The ISAC event happened a few months after the SMTOWN concert where they did the Internet War thing, so what made things become so different?

If this has enough likes I’ll make a second part!

#i got tired halfway through writing and i decided i needed some motivation to finish this so i'm posting it the way it is lmao #chanbaek #baekyeol #park chanyeol #byun baekhyun #exo #kpop

[the-iceni-bitch]

PLEASEEE write more for august walker! i'm in love with the banter in "welcome home, walker" and how he's grumpy but has a soft spot for the reader. LOVE UR OTHER WORKS TOO <33

Aww, I love Auggie! And it has been a bit since I wrote for him. Soooooo...

PDA

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Words: 2145

Summary: You and Auggie go out with the graduating cadets to celebrate your new assignment.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (innuendo, teasing, sex in a public place, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex), violence (fistfight, implication of gore and death), betrayal, protective!Auggie, TW- implication of impending date rape/mentions of drugs, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: This got away from me a bit if I’m being honest. I was just gonna do the teasing in the gym but I couldn’t stop myself, so please enjoy this little impromptu fic! And please feel free to send me an ask if there’s a character or kink or anything you’d like to see more of! 

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist here if you want!

You didn’t know how he got you in this position. You could practically feel him beaming over you as you struggled to get out of the hold he had you in. 

“You keep moving like that, you’re gonna make me hard, sweetheart. You want me to fuck you right here on the mat?”

August ground his crotch against your ass to illustrate his point and you let out a moan. Your arms were bent back at your shoulders unnaturally as you scrabbled for some purchase to get out of his grip.

“Fuck off, Auggie. You know the only reason you’re on top right now is because I didn’t get any sleep.” Maybe if you arched your back a little...

August groaned in your ear as your ass rubbed against his growing erection. 

“Shit, Y/N. The director is right there.”

You turned your head as much as you could to see Sloane standing at the gym entrance, surveying the cadets as they practiced their sparring. You wiggled your ass again, making Auggie growl at you.

“You’re not giving me a lot of options, baby. You know my brain doesn’t work when I’m sleep deprived.”

He grumbled and you felt him start to loosen the hold he had on your arms. You grinned to yourself as you wrapped one arm behind his neck, gripping the hair at the base of his scalp and rolling forward. You heard him give a small sound of surprise as you flipped him over, knocking all the air out of his lungs when you slammed him into the mat and wrapping your body around his shoulders, stretching him to the point of pain. 

“Damn it, I thought we were done.”

“I don’t remember tapping out, sweetie.” You gripped his wrist and stretched his arm even further as you squeezed your thighs around his neck. 

He wheezed for a second before a wicked grin spread over his face. “Y’know, when you get me in these holds, I can smell you, and it drives me fucking crazy.”

You almost loosened your hold at his admission but caught yourself at the last second. “August...” you growled in warning.

“I know you’re soaked under these sweats, sweetheart.” He turned his head as much as your hold would allow, running his nose along the inseam of your sweats until you released him with a hiss.

“Fine, it’s a draw.” You mumbled, drawing yourself to your feet as he chuckled darkly. “Equipment room in 5?”

“Walker, Y/L/N, with me.” Sloane gave a beckoning motion and the two of you moved to follow, sighing with frustration. 

You moved with the director as she marched back towards her office, shooting each other apprehensive looks as you considered what she may want to talk to you about.

“Good news you two.” Sloane announced as she closed the door to her office behind you. “We finally managed to get the heat off you from Interpol, and you’re set for a new assignment in Brazil.” She handed you your files detailing the op. “Looks like there’s a Syndicate group operating there, moving weapons through the black market there. You ship out in two days. Please do your best to remember, Syndicate members are assets, not targets.”

“Right, boss.” You murmured, flipping through your ID docs. August just grunted beside you.

“Alright, I heard the two of you are going out with the graduating cadets and trainers tonight to celebrate the end of the course. Don’t overdo it.” She gave you a knowing wink before you turned to leave the office.

“I think she knows about us.” August whispered as the two of you headed to your lockers.

You just laughed at him. “Auggie, honey, we’re the worst kept secret at Langley.” 

“Y/N, Walker, I hear congrats are in order! We’re gonna miss the two of you in training!” Melissa managed to find out everything as soon as it happened, you didn’t know how she got stuck in training instead of the field. “I’ll make sure everyone buys you a round at the club tonight.”

You groaned at that, those goddamn trainers would have you passed out if they got their way. You slammed your locker closed and turned back to August. 

“Meet you at the club, baby. Make sure to do your reading first!” You called over your shoulder as you headed out.

You arrived at the club 4 hours later to see August looking incredibly uncomfortable in the middle of a group of rowdy cadets. You tutted to yourself as you approached him, he always had a stick up his ass.

He saw you then, and his face relaxed as he walked to meet you.

“You’re late.” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the bar. “You know how much I hate talking to these kids.”

“Relax, grandpa.” You smiled before turning to order yourself a gin and tonic. “You gonna dance at all tonight, or just stand there glowering?”

He scoffed into his scotch as you grinned at him, moving closer and rubbing your foot over his calf suggestively. 

“Don’t you start something you’re not prepared to finish, beautiful.”

Just then, Melissa arrived with a tray full of tequila shots, and you let out a groan. This was the second time you got cock blocked today, and you were starting to get frustrated. 

“Look what I’ve got for you!” she said gleefully as the two of you winced at her.

“Melissa, I’ve told you a million times, I don’t do tequila.”

“C’mon, it’s your last night with us, just a couple.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed a shot for yourself, giving August a shrug before tossing it back. He hissed between his teeth as he downed his own.

“Fuck me, you sure this isn’t rubbing alcohol? Jesus, Melissa!”

She just handed the two of you two more with a giggle, and clapped her hands when you swallowed them. Before you knew it she was dragging you towards the dance floor, your head fuzzy from the tequila as you instructed August to watch your cocktail. He gave you a grin before turning back to the bar, but that quickly changed once he noticed movement in your glass.

August clenched his jaw as his arm shot out to grab the cadet that was wandering away from the bar, wrapping his fist around his upper arm with a vise-like grip.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” He growled, a menacing glare taking over his face.

“Get your hand off me, man.” The frat boy idiot actually looked offended as he glanced down at August’s hand.

Walker just tightened his grip as he patted the asshole down, cocking an eyebrow as he pulled a tiny baggie of tablets out of his breast pocket.

“Graham, right? What’s a senator’s nephew doing with… what is this? GHB? Molly?”

“Look, buddy.” The moron gave him a grin like he was his friend as August stared him down. “That piece of ass needs some loosening up. I bet she’s a tiger in the sack.”

August threw your drink in his face before hauling him outside. He considered letting you handle it yourself, but he wanted to let off some steam.

He didn’t say anything, just punched the smarmy bastard in the face. The idiot didn’t even try to defend himself, pathetic.

“What the fuck?! You broke my nose!” Graham held a hand to his face as he stared at Walker in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s not all I’m gonna do to you.” He growled as he set to work.

Five minutes later he stood over his handiwork, wiping the blood off his knuckles as he let out a sigh. That had gotten a little out of hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered, pulling his burner out of his suit pocket and dialing. “Yeah, this is Lark. Send a cleanup crew to the alley outside Sketch. Yeah, some senator’s nephew.” He frowned over the phone. “Because it’s a fucking order.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for the Syndicate’s sanitation team before heading back into the club to find you.

He found you on the dance floor and a hungry sneer came over his face. He strode toward you and wrapped a possessive hand around your throat from behind, drawing you fast against his chest and growling into your ear. You whined as he pulled you away from the group, Melissa beaming at the two of you like an idiot.

“Have fun you two!” She called as August steered you around a corner.

He pressed you into the wall behind a column, his mouth devouring yours as he slotted his knee between your legs. You whimpered as he shoved a hand in the front of your blouse, squeezing your breast viciously before tweaking your nipple to the point of your pain as you arched into his hand.

“Fuck, Auggie. What happened?” You were panting with need as he moved his face down to bury in your neck, his teeth scraping over your throat.

“I’ll tell you later. Are you still drunk?” He moved his other hand to the apex of your thighs and groaned against your chest when he felt your slick coated folds. You weren’t wearing any panties.

“No, the dancing burned most of it off. Shit.” You hissed as he inserted two fingers inside you, stretching you open as he fumbled with his zipper. “Can’t even make it to the bathroom, huh?”

“Sorry sweetheart.” He mumbled as he freed his dick from his slacks. “Sure seems like you were expecting this, though.”

He moved his lips to yours and swallowed your cry as he dipped his hips and plunged into you. His hands wrapped around your thighs and lifted them to wrap around him as he started to move his hips. He tried to move slow so it wasn’t obvious what the two of you were doing, but those goddamn tiny whimpers you were making into his mouth were making it hard for him to control himself.

“God, this cunt feels better every time I’m in it. Fuck.” You were clenching around him with each thrust and your breath was coming in ragged gasps, letting him know you were close. “Jesus Christ, it’s barely been a minute. You’re so fucking sensitive.” He nipped at your bottom lip and stilled his hips for a beat as he teased you.

You slapped his bicep playfully and whined. “Shut the fuck up and move, asshole.”

He braced one hand on the wall and drew his hips back slowly before slamming into you. You buried your face in his neck to muffle your scream as you came apart. Your pussy fluttered around him as every muscle went rigid. He felt you sobbing against him as your muscles quivered in your release, his hips still setting a punishing pace as he fucked you through it.

“Shit, honey.” He murmured against your cheek as you came down. “You make it so easy.”

Your snort turned into a whimper as a particularly deep thrust had him kissing your cervix. “Fuck, Auggie.”

“Yeah, right there?”

You nodded vigorously as your face screwed up in bliss, leaning it back against the wall as he picked up the pace.

His cock was dragging against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust and it was all you could focus on. Your thighs squeezed around him as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm. He loved watching you take it, getting completely lost in your pleasure. And knowing he was the one doing this to you was just icing on the cake.

“You close, gorgeous?” He asked, feeling his own imminent release looming.

“Shit, shit!”

He was extremely grateful for the loud music as you screamed in your release. He swallowed a shout of his own as his cock twitched and his cum spurted into you, painting your insides as his hips faltered and he collapsed against you.

“Jesus.” You whispered as you set your feet on the floor, August still sheathed in you as he softened. “Public sex, who knew?”

You felt his chest rumble against you as he gave a low chuckle, sliding out of you gently before he tucked himself back into his slacks. He ducked his head to give you a tender kiss as he drew down the hem of your skirt over your thighs.

“We should go back to your place.” He whispered after he released you, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m totally fine with it. Lemme just say goodbye to Melissa.”

He grinned as he watched you saunter away, your gait a little wobbly as you tried to keep his cum from leaking out of you. He was really looking forward to your new assignment. The thought of being cooped up with you for several months was making him hard already.

Tags:

@slothspaghettiwrites @stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @jack-skellingtons-stuff @drabblewithfrannybarnes @captain-asguard @harrysthiccthighss @bonkywobble @dslap65 @stanallstarks @macgruberrr @blackestpinkworld @wanderinglunarnights @sebslut @allinhishands

#natalie answers #natalie writes #request granted #request #send me asks #august walker #august walker fandom #august walker x reader #august walker x you #august walker x y/n #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill smut #smut #eighteen plus #mission impossible fallout

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

-

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

#god this took me FOREVER #lol I’m busy freaking out over my second covid shot okay don’t @ me #my fic #fmcr #xfiles #txf fic #fox mulder closet romantic #msr #they go to ikea

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki no psi nan

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #1

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

The crescendo of rain hitting your window woke you from a peaceful slumber. It didn’t often rain this hard in Sunset Bird, especially not during the summer. You felt a pang of disappointment that your typical summer pastimes were not viable on a day like this.

You rolled groggily out of bed and sighed, wondering what Cove thought of the unfortunate weather situation. Knowing him, he’d be even more bummed than you — then it hit you! The list!

You scrambled over to your messy desk and opened the biggest drawer, which you affectionately called the “junk drawer.” This was the home to everything of value that didn’t have a specific place in your room. The actual value of the items in the junk drawer was pretty questionable. From old gaming devices and batteries, to loose papers that could maybe be useful someday.

With everything shoved out of the way, you uncovered the beacon of hope for this gloomy day. A small spiral notebook with a shiny turquoise cover, speckled in tiny yellow stars. You and Cove started using this notebook on rainy days for games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. There were years of games in this notebook, nearly every page filled with games and doodles.

You sighed wistfully as you turned the pages and reminisced about each game. Your first ever hangman game with Cove occurred on a particularly hot day. Yet, playing paper-based games became a rainy day tradition for you two. You went out and bought a special notebook just to keep them all in one place.

During your first hangman game with Cove, he settled on the phrase "you are cute." You couldn’t decide if that was the most Cove-like thing he’d done or if it was boldly uncharacteristic. You blushed at the memory and smiled gently.

Remembering your mission, you snapped out of the Cove-induced trance. You began flipping pages faster until you landed on one containing a list. On the last rainy day you and Cove suffered through, he had the idea to make a list of things you two could do to pass the time. It seemed he could only handle so many games of hangman and tic-tac-toe.

You each took turns writing something you would want to do on a rainy day. There were even corresponding doodles scattered on the page to illustrate each activity. The stark difference between your handwriting compared to Cove’s stood out to you today. His was relatively neat compared to your chicken scratch.

Rather than continuing to dwell on your poor penmanship, you looked closer at the items on the list. There were a total of 14 entries. You skimmed past each one with a focused scowl on your face until you landed on number 12: ear piercing. This was one of your suggestions, and one that didn’t come easily. You went back and forth in your head before writing this one. Considering how you would ask your moms for permission, what other people would think, and how Cove would feel about it. At the time of writing it down Cove seemed on board, for you at least. He was apprehensive about getting one himself, preferring to avoid the conversation with his dad.

A sly smile formed across your face. You decided that at 13 you were old enough to take control of your own body, regardless of what your moms would think. You emphatically shut the notebook and hopped up from the desk chair that you had slumped into earlier.

With a newfound energy you began quickly getting ready. You pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and rummaged through your closet, looking for your yellow raincoat and rainboots. As cliche as they were, you quite enjoyed the look. You could really use the brightness on such a cloudy day. You remembered to shove the small notebook in your back pocket.

You bounded down the stairs and out the door, calling out your goodbyes to whoever was still in the house. You paused under the awning to pull your hood over your head before walking carefully across to Cove’s house. The rain was still coming down hard and the street was slick with rain. With how clumsy you were you couldn’t afford to rush over and slip on a puddle.

Once you reached the Holden’s door you removed your hood and knocked confidently. Mr. Holden appeared momentarily to open the door, his face lit up when he saw you standing there.

Mr. Holden: Y/N! Hey, buddy. How are ya? Come on in!

You stepped inside with a smile and began wiping your feet vigorously on the door mat.

Y/N: Good morning, Mr. Holden. Is Cove around?

Mr. Holden: Sure is, he's surely tucked up in his room still. Why don’t you leave your boots and coat here and you can go wake him up.

You grinned at the thought as you pulled your coat off to give it to Mr. Holden. You slipped off your boots and thanked him as you tip-toed over to Cove’s bedroom door. You considered your options, truly unsure of what he could be up to behind closed doors. After some quick deliberation, you opted for loudly barging in while singing his name.

Without another moment of hesitation, you turned the knob and in a sing-songy voice, called out to him

Y/N: CoooOOoooove, rise and shine!

Cove’s sleepy figure stirred gently at the sound of your voice. He blinked open his eyes slowly and rubbed his hands through his seafoam green locks as you stood over him beaming. Finally, he uttered his first words of the day.

Cove: Y/N? What are you doing here so early?

You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to make Cove blush and start to sit up.

Y/N: Do you hear that? Outside?

Cove paused for a second before looking past you out his window. His expression dropped and he groaned.

Cove: Rain…

You scooted closer and crouched so your faces were level. You smiled deviously and noted how his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened.

Y/N: Cove, today we will fulfil our destiny.

Before he could utter a word, you shifted to retrieve the crumpled notebook from your back pocket. Cove slid up more, clearly intrigued. You turned to the right page and faced it towards Cove while pointing decidedly to number 10.

Cove: Ear piercing… oh yeah! You want to do that one today?

You nodded enthusiastically, hoping Cove would still be on board for this idea. You knew it was a one-sided activity, but you could use his support since it would be your first piercing.

Cove: The mall has a piercing booth, right? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?

Y/N: The mall is exactly what I had in mind!

Cove: Cool. So, how are we getting there?

For the first time since early morning, you felt defeated. Your shoulders slumped and you looked down at your hands. At 13, you might be old enough to get a needle through your ear, but you still couldn’t operate a vehicle. The mall was also too far to walk to, you remembered the time Kyra drove you all to the mall for a visit. Noticing how down you became, Cove spoke.

Cove: I could… ask my dad to drive us there. He isn’t working today. I’m sure he’d say yes.

You instantly perked up and turned to Cove with an open-mouthed smile.

Y/N: Really? Really. Really? Would you?

Cove chuckled and nodded. You wrapped around him with a tight hug the instant his head jerked upward. Your face planted on his chest. You exhaled loudly as you listened to his rushed heartbeat. After you pulled away, Cove got up and smiled nervously, flustered and ready to get the day going. You sat patiently on the bed while Cove got ready and asked his dad about driving you both to the mall.

Once he returned to his bedroom, he wordlessly flashed you a smile and thumbs-up combo. You followed him out to the front door where his dad was waiting with your coat. You accepted the coat and slipped on your boots. Cove had no rain protection, but you decided to stay quiet, knowing he preferred minimal layers.

You all headed out the door into Mr. Holden’s car. Cove sat in the backseat with you even though he typically preferred to ride shotgun. You felt special that he would rather keep you company. A startling question from Mr. Holden interrupted your pleasant thoughts.

Mr. Holden: I hear you plan on getting an ear piercing today, Y/N. Is that right?

Your mouth fell agape and you looked over to Cove, who upon noticing your expression became concerned. You realized you didn’t tell Cove about your plans to keep the ear piercing a secret from your moms. Now that Mr. Holden knew, it was almost certain he would casually bring it up to your moms. Not willing to reveal your sneaky plans, you spoke confidently.

Y/N: Yep! I’ve been wanting one for a while.

Mr. Holden: Hey, that’s great. I bet it’ll look really cool.

You looked over at Cove and smiled at him, hoping to relieve any confusion or concern. He returned the smile, but still appeared deep in thought. The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Mr. Holden dropped the two of you off and notified you of his return in 3 hours.

As soon as you were alone, standing at the entrance of the mall, Cove turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You looked up at him sheepishly and noticed his shrewd expression.

Cove: What was that about? That face? Should I not have told dad about the piercing?

Cove’s perceptiveness toward all your quirks was a blessing and a curse. The smallest look on your face could be a dead giveaway to him. You knew he would feel guilty for ruining your plan, but there was no point in trying to hide it from him.

Y/N: I didn’t get permission from my moms to get a piercing.

His eyes widened as his arms dropped to his sides.

Cove: Oh my God, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry. Are you going to be in a lot of trouble? I don’t want you grounded all summer. We won’t be able to hang out as much. Maybe we should get smoothies and tell everyone it was a joke—

You cut off his rambling, not wanting him to tire himself out so early. Although you appreciated his concern, especially regarding your ability to spend time together.

Y/N: It’s okay, Cove. Really. I totally forgot to mention it when I told you this morning because I was so excited. They would have to find out somehow, right?

Cove: I guess. Can I make it up to you, though? I’ll buy you a smoothie anyway.

Y/N: Well, I could never say no to a smoothie from Cove Holden.

You smiled at each other and continued into the mall. You walked with purpose toward the piercing booth. Your stomach was turning with eagerness and nerves. Cove’s long strides matched perfectly with your short but quick paces. He looked at you with a comforting smile as you closed in on the booth.

The piercer at the booth was an older teen with an assortment of piercings on their own face and ears. They chewed gum loudly as they took down your information and set you up on the cold, hard piercing chair. While they put on gloves and prepared the tools, Cove inched closer to stand next to you.

Cove: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Nervous, excited... very rebellious.

Cove hummed in acknowledgment. You felt his hand brush the hair behind your ear. He gently pinched the now exposed top of your ear. You felt goosebumps travel across your skin at the touch.

Cove: This is where you want it, right? What was it called again… a helix?

You felt your face get hot, pleased that he remembered, and surprised that he was so casually touching you. You managed a quiet “mhm” before the piercer sauntered over to you.

Piercer: Alright, kid. Where do you want it?

Cove shifted out of the way as you pointed to where he had touched. You explained to the piercer that you wanted a simple helix on your right ear. As the piercer was marking your ear, you looked at Cove with pleading eyes.

Y/N: Cove, can I hold your hand?

A distinct blush spread across his cheeks but he didn’t hesitate to position himself next to you on your left side. He offered you his hand and tried to smile reassuringly. You took it gratefully and practiced different levels of squeeze pressure. You didn’t want to accidentally hurt Cove. His hand was hot and familiarly comforting.

Piercer: Ready?

You looked straight ahead and tensed up. You felt your heart pounding in your throat, annoyed that you were so nervous about something you definitely wanted to do. You felt Cove’s eyes on you, a reassurance that he would always be there for you.

Y/N: Go for it.

The piercer lined up the needle and stuck it through your ear in one quick motion. The pain was sharp and quick. You winced and instinctively tightened your grip on Cove’s hand. He squeezed back gently and you could hear a slight sympathetic groan escape his throat. A throbbing soreness replaced the initial sharp pain. You sighed as the piercer removed the needle and inserted a simple silver hoop.

Cove: Y/N? Are you okay? How did it feel?

You looked up at Cove and met his concerned gaze. Without letting go of his hand, you offered a small smile.

Y/N: It definitely hurts. But having this helped wonders.

You lifted his hand and gestured to it with your eyes. His smile reflected a mixed sense of pride, embarrassment, and relief.

Cove: I’m glad… Here, let me get a better look at it.

With your hands still intertwined, he helped you hop off the piercing chair. You faced him and turned your head to the side so he could see the piercing.

Y/N: How does it look?

Cove smiled widely with eyes bright.

Cove: I like it. You look amazing, Y/N.

Although Cove instantly seemed to regret his phrasing, you felt thrilled. Knowing that Cove was into it made facing your moms later seem a little less daunting. You hoped he could be there to help back up your decision.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. And thanks for being my stress ball.

Cove: Anytime. How about that smoothie I promised?

You bounced excitedly with a loud “Woo!” You finished the transaction with the piercer and listened to their spiel about piercing care. Soon you were off to the smoothie stand with Cove.

Y/N: Do you know what combo you’re going to get? Same as last time?

Cove hummed thoughtfully. You wondered if he was also remembering the time you stole a sip from his smoothie. He never ended up finishing it after that. You felt a pang of guilt and decided you would let him keep the smoothie to himself.

Cove: I think I’d like to mix it up. There were so many great options to choose from.

Y/N: Right?! I would love it if I could just add all of the fruit and berries. Make a super smoothie concoction.

Cove scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. You chuckled at his reaction and gently nudged his arm. He nudged right back with a warm smile planted on his face.

You each placed your order with the smoothie attendant. Cove paid for both. You felt appreciative of the gesture, knowing he wanted to make you feel better about your foiled plan. His consideration for your feelings made you feel warm inside, even though you didn’t blame him at all for the mishap.

Cove picked up both smoothies and handed you your order with a smile. As you continued your walk through the mall, you took a long, deep sip and then exhaled loudly.

Y/N: That really hit the spot! Thanks, Cove.

Cove simply nodded as he continued to sip at his smoothie. For a second you thought his lips wouldn't move from the straw for the rest of the trip, not willing to risk losing a drop to your sneaky mouth. But then, he broke free and smiled with a wince.

Cove: Brain freeze.

You burst out laughing, relieved that he would actually be available to talk to you.

Y/N: I know a trick for getting rid of a brain freeze! Here, look at me.

Cove faced you quizzically. You opened wide, turned your face upward, and pressed your tongue up to the roof of your mouth. His gaze dropped to your mouth while his own mouth fell open. An obvious blush spread across his face and he nodded. You wondered if seeing the underside of your tongue was a little too scandalous for Cove. You closed your mouth into a cheeky smile.

Y/N: Try it. I promise it works.

Cove turned away from you and tried your trick with his mouth firmly shut. He sighed in relief and immediately took another sip of his smoothie. That earned another laugh from you. He smiled at you sweetly with a mouthful of smoothie.

The walk continued pleasantly for a few minutes. You laughed, and teased, and joked with each other comfortably. You both reminisced about the last mall trip you had with Lee and Derek, even though it was only a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Cove’s pace slowed and he came to a halt. When you turned back to look at him, his expression lost in thought. He absentmindedly picked at the side of the cup with his nails. You noticed tiny indentations marked across the styrofoam cup.

Y/N: Cove? Is everything alright?

Cove breathed out and walked towards you gently. He extended his smoothie towards your face. His face red and his eyes glued to the smoothie, refusing to meet your gaze.

Cove: Would you like to try mine? I think it’s delicious. I think you would like it.

Stunned, and a bit apprehensive, you thought deeply. You didn’t want Cove to miss out on the rest of his smoothie again. But this time he was offering. You wondered what changed, and hoped this wasn’t more piercing-related guilt.

Y/N: If you’re sure, I would love to. But promise me you’ll finish the rest.

Cove’s eyes snapped to yours and it was his turn to feel stunned. You never revealed to him that you knew he never finished the smoothie last time. He looked embarrassed, but you had to be sure he wouldn't throw it out again.

Cove: I— yeah. I’ll finish it.

That was good enough for you. You wrapped your lips around his straw and took a big sip. The flavor was different to yours, but still satisfying. You kept your eyes on Cove while you pulled away from his smoothie. He slowly raised the smoothie to his own mouth and took a quick sip, all while looking desperately to the side.

Y/N: Success!

Cove let out a nervous laugh, glad to have made that much progress. He was still blushing while you continued your trek. You wondered if his face would ever return to its normal color as long as that smoothie was in his hand.

You finally made it back to the entrance with Cove. His dad would be returning to pick you up in a few minutes, as promised. You both threw your empty smoothie cups into the nearby trash can. You looked out the glass doors and noticed the rain finally stopped falling. There might be a chance to enjoy the outdoors with Cove before it was time to face your moms.

You decided to wait outside. He stood next to you and sighed.

Cove: I’m sorry again.

Y/N: It’s okay, I couldn’t have asked for a better rainy day partner. Thanks for doing this with me.

You inched closer and smiled up at him. He grinned back, convinced that everything would be okay. You waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with your own rebellious actions.

#our life #our life beginnings & always #cove holden #cove #cove holden x mc #cove holden x reader #lgbt #writing #my writing #gb patch games #gb patch #fanfic #fandom #oc #self insert #mc #romance #one shot #visual novel #otome game #fanwork #our life: beginnings & always

[terkelsenellis]

Massively Exclusive: Jacobs on Camelot Unchained’s Kickstarter home Stretch

Camelot Unchained's Kickstarter adventure is nearly complete at press time, there's just a little more than a day remaining. City State's RvR Sandbox, a fantasy game, is only $1.82 million of its goal of $2 million. Mark Jacobs has created an official diary of development to help push the game's funding.

Jacobs discusses the many difficulties that come with managing a Kickstarter campaign and an ambitious MMORPG project, and he explores the highlights of the former that include three factions RvR, Minecraft-style building options, and an engine designed specifically for the project which has been able to handle hundreds of simultaneous players at well over 200 frames per second. Jacobs also thanks the current CU supporters, which he says have provided an incredible amount of support and pledged an average of $160.

After the cut, Jacobs' complete diary can be found.

Dev diary

Camelot Unchained Kickstarter is nearing its conclusion. There are only 38 hours to go. Our total stands at $1.73 million. Every comparable game has had a great final day, so while we haven't reached our target of $2 million yet, we're pretty hopeful.

Whatever happens, I will be forever grateful to our supporters. They're just amazing. As of right now our average pledge is around $160. This is a remarkable achievement. I've looked at several games that have been funded by crowds and none of them has been in the same ballpark. Some have raised more total dollars, but they've all done it by attracting larger numbers of people for a lower cost per head, averaging $55 to $60. We knew that Camelot Unchained was more of a niche game and because of this we anticipated or hoped our average would be higher. Like they say, "never" is a goal we have set in our most imaginings.

This is not the only aspect that can be quantifiable. How can you measure sheer enthusiasm? Or emotional commitment? Or positive attitude? Though I'm not able to, I know that our fans would be incredible. They have inspired me and our entire team beyond anything we could have expected or even imagined. This is the reason I am forever and forever grateful.

I am extremely proud of the team we have assembled. Each person on this team has given more than I could ever ask for. When we started, we knew that with just 12 people, it would take an enormous task to plan and run an Kickstarter campaign. We were prepared for this... or at least we thought. The sheer size of the job exceeded our expectations. Everyone stepped up to the challenge, and worked not just long hours, but weekends as well to ensure that we were on the right path. We had to deal the usual amount of injuries and illnesses, and today's amusement with Amazon Payments servers being down for four hours was definitely an interesting difficult task.

If we continue to follow the plan and fund, we'll soon embark on a bigger adventure, which will involve the actual development of the game. Even a narrowed MMOG isn't easy to create. It will not be easy, but I don't think so. What it will be however is enjoyable and rewarding. It's been a while since I had the chance to meet thousands of gamers in a community. With their support I am convinced that Camelot Unchained can be something special. My job is to be sure it is. I renew my promise that my team and I will spare no effort to honor the faith our backers have shown in us.

I'm happy to report that we've already made some very positive steps in this direction. Andrew Meggs' early work on our engine is a great illustration. Gaming news We looked at a variety of commercial solutions and realized we needed a solution that could let us focus on large-scale battles and not be a "jack all trades" solution that could handle different types of games. Anyone who has seen or played our tech demos can tell you that we have made a lot of progress in a short time. We've seen hundreds of players bouncing around and fighting in a tiny area, as well as particle effects, and consistently clocked more than 200 (well it's not to be boastful but we reached over 1200) frames per second, all the while playing with other players all over the world.

Another feature is our building system. The game will feature crafting however, crafters will also be able to construct various types of equipment like weapons or armor, as well as other weaponry. They'll also build homes, other buildings, defensive structures, etc. using a very flexible building block-like system that uses a combination of individual "cells" and larger "pre-fabs". They'll also be able to "blueprint" their creations, which means they can be duplicated, rebuilt or repaired faster than having to start from scratch every time. This is unlike anything I have seen before in a MMOG. Actually, it's more in the vein of sandbox-like building games such as Minecraft.

Camelot Unchained's heart will be RvR between the Arthurians, Tuatha De Danann and Vikings. Anyone who likes this kind of gameplay is invited to come to our site to see what we are trying to create. If you like what you read and see there's still time to make an offer. :)

#Best Games #Minecraft servers #gaming news