#(Now I just need it w out Sample text)

[belphieslilcow]

Cass nervously walked through the mall, trying his best to avoid any of the middle stands from beckoning him over to give him samples and try to sell him face creams. The human hadn't walked through the mall by himself since he got lost in one during a high school field trip.

He avoided all the normie clothing stores and tried his best to not look when he passed by the place that sells lingerie, he knew what stores he liked so there was no need to browse anywhere else. Though he was sure this particular store isn't what Asmo had in mind when he wanted him to get out of the house and buy a new outfit.

The blond boy finally stepped into the Hot Topic, alt music playing as one of the workers welcomed him. He grinned to himself as he searched through the various clothes, while he tried to stay away from his old all black aesthetic in favor of his newer pastel one, the opportunity to shock everyone in the group chat was too good to pass up.

He found the pants he wanted fairly quickly, as well as an accessory or two to complete the fit, but he couldn't decide on a shirt. He didn't want to go with something just nerdy, that'd be too easy, he then pulled out a shirt from one of the clearance racks and his eyes lit up with a devious smile, it was too perfect.

He fidgeted with himself before taking a breath and talking to an employee, "Uhm, excuse me? Would it be alright if I used one of the changing rooms?"

_

House of Lamentation (New) - 8

Cassian: I just got back from my shopping trip!!

Asmodeus: Yes!! I was on the edge of my seat waiting for you to get done, oh I wish I could've been there to help you out, I'm sure you were so lost without my fashion guidance...

Cassian: Don't worry, I think I got something good, I took a picture in the changing room so I'll send that in a sec.

The chat was then filled with various messages back and forth, asking about Cassian's day out, if he was alright socially, if he ate anything good while there, nice and normal stuff.

Mammon: Oi!! Stop keeping us in suspense I wanna see what ya bought!!

Cassian: lol okay okay sending it now

Cass flopped in his bed and sent the picture before waking up his laptop and turning on a gaming video.

The picture was of Cassian in the dressing room, wearing dark gray baggy jeans with various zips, pockets, and chains. To match with the cluttered design of the bottoms, he had on several bracelets on each wrist, even going so far to wear a black choker with a silver pentagram charm.

The real star of the outfit was his t-shirt, plain black with text that read "Satan Loves Me".

Mammon: WHAT?? WHY'S THE HUMAN REALM GOT SHIRTS ABOUT SATAN??

Mammon: WHY DIDN'T YOU GET ONE THAT SAID "THE GREAT MAMMON LOVES ME", HUH??

Cassian: sowwy mams, you're just not as popular as Satan when it comes to the human world =w=

Satan: Personally, I think you look wonderful, Cassian. You look good in black.

Cassian: aww, tyyy

Belphegor: If it weren't for the fact that it was Satan's name on your shirt I'd agree.

Beelzebub: I also love you, Cass.

Their talk continued throughout the evening until Lucifer forced everyone to let Cass get rest, as if they each weren't gonna text him on their own as soon as they got the chance.

[alanahleadership]

Week 1

Think of a time when you were in a leadership situation. What was the experience like for you? In my second semester for my Marketing 2 class (in person), I somehow became the leader of my group for our big group project. It wasn’t official, or expressly said, but I was the one making sure everyone was doing their work properly, proofreading everything, stitching them together, delegating tasks, and I was the one everyone came to for answers, help, and direction. This was my most challenging group project yet. There seemed to have been an issue with communication as my group members did not understand what they needed to do or what was expected of them despite my constant reminders and links to samples that were available to us. An example of this was one group member sent me his work for the second part of the project but didn’t include his references. I sent him a text and in that one text I repeated multiple times (probably 5 times in a single text) that he needed to send me his list of references in APA format. After reading that message, he decided to send me a list of links. Just website links. I had to message him again to remind him that it needed to be in APA format. Another group member wrote her whole section on the topic of MY section that I had already informed the group I completed. I messaged her and explained her mistake and tried to explain to her as best as I could what she was supposed to write about, and she emailed me back with essentially the same mistake… just in different words… That took multiple attempts to sort out. So many things happened over the course of that class. I was sick for the first two weeks, so I was not present for the first part of the project. They did not contact me about the project while I was away, and I was unaware of what was going on. They did the first part of the project incorrectly (which resulted in an F, thankfully our professor let us fix and resubmit it), which I had to take into my own hands and fix (that’s how it all started). The second part of the project was very much like what I described above; we had to do a report and I volunteered to stitch all our work together in a Word document. I did this specifically so I wouldn’t have to put together the PowerPoint. We managed to get a very good mark on the report once everyone got their act together. The third part of the project came around and guess who everyone nominated to put together the power point because I “did such a great job on the report”. ME! Somehow, through all of this, I managed to get everyone on track, and we ended up getting a very good mark. Needless to say… my experience was exhausting.

What did you learn from it? I think if I had to take away anything from that experience it would be how to lead difficult groups of people and deal with difficult situations. It is unfortunate, as they were all very nice to me in person and fed me many a delicious snack. But I do think I’m more equipped to deal with difficult groups now. After that experience, I had another group where two of the members did not contact me and my other group member (who was amazing) until the project was hours away from being due. One of them finally returned and got all his work together, the other did not say anything until minutes before we submitted it. In a situation like that, I would have been nervous to be so strict before, but a couple days before the project was due, I really laid down the law and told the two group members that if they did not do their parts, I and my other active group member would not put their names on the project and we would email the professor about their lack of contribution. When one of them contacted us again, I welcomed his efforts with open arms and helped him figure out what he had to do. When the other contacted us before we submitted it and asked for his name to still be on the project, I firmly stood my ground on the matter and stuck to my words. His excuse for not contacting us for weeks was “work”, which was not good enough for us. It's not easy when people you work with don’t put in as much effort or need extra managing. It's even harder when you must be the one to give someone bad news, but sometimes that’s just part of being a leader.

2. Describe your leadership strengths and skills as you currently know them. Where possible, align these with specific examples. Personable/Charismatic: I like to be friendly and encourage relationships with most everyone I meet, and especially people I have to work with. I believe that work is much more enjoyable and goes by faster and easier when you are doing it with people you are comfortable with. Fostering friendships with people, while still being able to go into “business mode” when needed is something I’m very good at. Persistence: When I am made the leader of a project I will not stop until it's done and done to the best of our abilities. I will not completely give up on people unless they’ve let down the group for too long. I will always try to get everyone on track to where we need to be. Open-minded/ Good listener: I truly love listening to new ideas, different thoughts, and opinions from people regarding a project (or anything, really). I certainly don’t think I know everything, and if someone would like to suggest a better way to do something or a new angle, I’m all ears. Fast learner/ improviser: I don’t always know what I’m doing when I somehow become the unofficial leader of a group, but when my group members are even MORE lost than I am I can usually figure things out pretty quickly in order to report back to the group and explain what we need to do (as if I knew the whole time).

What are the leadership strengths, skills or characteristics that you would like to develop? Why? The leadership characteristic I would like to develop is that certain DRIVE for personal goals. A lot of leaders seem to have this hunger for success that won’t allow them to rest until they achieve it. I wish I could somehow become more like that. I become content far too easily.

[chaoticparker]

Detente

Peter Parker x avenger!reader

summary: you and Peter use to be childhood friends, then for some reason, became each others enemies. But what happens when a mission goes wrong so you and Peter are forced together?

w/c: 9.6k

warnings: swearing, violence/explosions, one suggestive joke

a/n: italicized sentences are inner thoughts, italicized & bolded text is flashbacks (they are really easy to tell when they appear in the fic)

masterlist

“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick all the god damn time?”

“I’m not the fucking dick here, if anything, I’m just extra hygienic.”

“Using all of the hot water and staying in the shower for an hour makes you a fucking dick, Peter.”

The team groaned as they heard yours and Peter’s screams getting louder and louder as you moved to get closer to the team meeting room. They all shared an annoyed glance. By now, they were used to it at this point, but it doesn’t make the constant screaming matches any less of a headache.

“I’m sorry I like to shower in hot water-” Peter fumed as he walked into the room with you right behind him.

“Wait! Is the Peter Parker finally apologizing? You finally got some morals!” You applauded with sarcasm dripping from your voice.

“Can you two shut up for ten minutes so we can go over the mission?” Tony yelled.

“You know this is partially your fault too, Stark. What billionaire has limited hot water supply?” You grumbled as you sat down in your seat next to Wanda and Nat.

“She’s got a point Mr. Stark, lots of people live here and it wouldn’t hurt to bump up the hot water.” Peter added as he took his seat next to Bucky and Sam.

“Is the idiot actually agreeing with me?” You teased.

“No, I’m agreeing with the idiot.”

“Agreeing with an idiot makes you an idiot, idiot.”

“Honestly both of you need to shut up or else I'm kicking you both out of the free housing I've provided for both of you.” Tony threatened. “And I'm sure neither one of you wants to look for an apartment in New York.”

“No Mr. Stark.” You both groaned, very familiar with the threat by this point.

“Great! Is there anything else someone needs to say?” Tony asked. “Nothing, great! Steve take it away.”

“Alright, so tonight we are leaving for Canada to dismantle a Hydra base out there. It's heavily forested and fairly isolated so everyone needs to make sure that their trackers are on, and securely placed on their suits-”

“Don’t break them, they take like three hours each to make.” Tony chimed in.

“Yes, thank you Stark.” Steve sighed. “But we need to collect and destroy all samples of the serum they are working on, including -and this part is critical- the instructions on how to make the serum and the machines that can mass produce them.

“We will divide into groups with different tasks, one will gather and destroy all made serums, and the other will destroy the instructions. Team A, consisting of Wanda, Bucky, and I will focus on destroying the serums. Team B, with Y/n, Nat, Sam and Peter will deal with shutting the machines down that are making the serum as well as deleting all information.”

“Why do I have to go with him?” You huffed.

“Because Nat and Sam are guarding you two while you both deal with the production of the serum.” Steve answered, already having the answer prepared for the inevitable question.

“Why can’t Stark come and take my place?” Peter whined.

“Because Pepper wants me to ‘rest’, so I’m just gonna be in the jet and boss everyone around from there.” Tony clenched his jaw, clearly not liking Pepper’s wishes but agreed with them regardless.

“Wheels up in two hours. Meet at the launchpad. Dismissed.”

You quickly got up from your seat and walked out of the room, heading towards the kitchen for a snack. “Hey, has anyone seen my leftovers?” You yelled.

Bucky, who was right behind you, came up next to you and looked in the fridge. “What was it?”

“I made some pizza yesterday but I didn’t finish a couple of slices and I put them in a container, right here.” You pointed to the back corner of the fridge, where it was out of eyeshot from anyone else.

“I saw Parker eat pizza at midnight.”

“Huh? What’d you see me do?” Peter walked into the kitchen reaching for an apple.

“You ate my pizza last night?” You slammed the fridge shut. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t supposed to eat it?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know, maybe because you didn’t make it? Maybe the fact that it was stowed away in the back of the fridge? Fucking dumbass.”

“Maybe you should’ve included a label saying do not eat or you should’ve labeled your own fucking name, dumbass.”

“I will beat your-”

“What the fuck happened to you guys?” Bucky snapped. “When you two first got here you were friends and now your yelling at each other over fucking pizza? What happened?”

Peter and you went silent. Not looking each other in the eye.

“I gave up being friends with Peter the day he became a dick.”

~~

“Where the fuck is Y/n and Peter?” Sam wondered, hitting his head against the wall of the jet.

Wanda cleared her throat, walking around and using her magic to create little gusts of wind at people to pass the time. “Do you think they are...?”

“It’s about time if you ask me.” Tony chimed in.

“Tony what the fuck you can’t say that.” Steve warned.

“What? We were all thinking about it.”

A few more minutes passed, the rest of the team getting impatient. Natasha’s hand gripped the steering wheel while Tony hummed to some 70’s song while tinkering with some random tools he found.

“Fucking bitch!”

“Fucking dick!”

The team sighed, a bittersweet feeling washing over them. Sure they needed you both to actually leave, but that means both of you screaming at each other.

“Hurry up before I attack you both.” Sam yelled getting ready to shut the jet doors.

You both picked up the pace and ran into the jet, all suited up and ready for action. The doors shut behind you both and you could feel the engine start and the jet quickly lifted up. You felt eyes on you and when you glanced at the others and saw them giving you the death glare.

Choosing to rest your voice and not argue with anyone, you sat in a chair away from the others. It’s not even your fault that you were late, it was Peter’s. He just had to be taking his time about getting ready, something about making sure his hair was curled just right and making sure that it had that nice fluff. So of course you had to wait for him, throwing in a few comments here and there, but in your defense they did start out civil. It’s not your fault that Peter took it the wrong way.

Is my hair too fluffy? Peter thought. He took out his phone and opened snapchat and checked his hair.

“Your hair looks fluffy.” Peter remembered what you said, but did she say it in a teasing way? She always teases me so she must be. I need to fix this fucking bush-

“Alright we should be landing in a few. Y/n, you're going to be carrying this.” Tony tossed you a bag. “Inside contains a device that will delete and destroy all information on their computers and erase all of their data. So plug this in, and destroy their machines and then leave.”

“Nat, Sam, do you remember the layout of the building?” Steve asked. Nat and Steve nodded their heads. “Great. Trackers on everybody.” Everybody double checked their trackers, seeing the faint red signaling that they are on.

“Now Wanda is going to cause a distraction while helping Bucky and Steve find and destroy the serums, so you shouldn’t get too much trouble headed your way.” Tony reminded.

“Tony, take over the controls.” Nat ordered and Tony walked over, dropping the pieces of tech he was tinkering with and sat down where Nat was sitting.

“Are you okay?” Nat whispered in your ear, just low enough for no one to hear. “I didn’t hear a snarky comment.”

“I’m just picking my battles. And I don’t feel like yelling at people before we might die.” You sighed.

“We are not going to die on the mission, you’re being dramatic.”

“I know but I have a bad feeling about this one.”

~~

And like usual, you were right.

“Kids, Nat and I are gonna have to deal with a shit amount of people so don’t kill each other. Got it?” Sam hurriedly yelled.

You both nodded, already knowing the urgency of the task and you quickly parted ways.

You and Peter ran into the room, with it being filled to the brim with computers and servers with a small door in the back leading into what you guessed were the machines.

“You deal with the servers and I’ll deal with the other room?” Peter suggested and you just nodded your head.

Finding what seemed to be the main server as Peter kicked down the door and rushed into the next room, you unzipped the backpack and brought out the device. Quickly plugging it in and switching some switches and pressing some buttons, the device started to do its thing.

A computer came on, you grabbed the bag and quickly walked over. You heard quite a few crashes and loud bangs from where Peter was, then a few gun shots from outside the room; which made you look at the door separating you and Peter from whatever Nat and Sam were dealing with.

Turning your attention back to the screen, you saw code running with the faint Stark Industries logo in the background. You got the keyboard and tried your best to make it go as quickly as possible.

“Hey Y/n we need to go, I’m done in there.” Peter came back into the room, standing by your side and looked over your shoulder at the code running on the screen.

“We just have to wait for this all to be deleted…” Your voice trailed off as a prompt came up on the screen.

“What’s wrong-” The door leading outside became sealed by another metal door, blocking your exit.

“It's locking everything down when we clear everything, it’s a defense thing we need to find a different way out.” You explained, raising your voice against the gunshots and blasts coming from outside “I- I don’t know how to get out.”

“Let me see if I can deal with it.” Peter stole the keyboard from under your hands.

“I was dealing with it.”

“Not very wel- AH!” The keyboard started sparking followed by the servers smoking and diffusing blasts and the computer's starting to explode.

“We need to go before we get blown up.” Your voice faltered as all of the tech around you started to go out.

“Come with me.” Peter grabbed your hands and pulled you into the room where he just was. “I think I saw an escape hatch in there.”

As you ran with Peter, you briefly glanced around at the broken machines all around you, chemicals on the floor and broken glass spread all over. Peter led you to the back corner of the room where a small metal door that looked like a human size version of a dumbwaiter was located. Peter let go of your hand and started hitting the door, trying to break it open.

An explosion bursted from the computer and server room, spreading fires into this room that the chemicals only seemed too induce.

“Peter, the fire is getting pretty close in here.” You panicked.

“I know but this door seems to be made from Vibranium or some knock off version that’s incredibly well made.”

“This isn’t the time to be praising their work.”

Peter’s senses went off, as if the world went in slow motion, he looked behind himself and saw a spark forming that would undoubtedly cause another explosion. Turning back to you, he tackled you and then quickly spun on his heel so that his back would hit the metal door, delivering the final blow.

The last thing you saw was a bright red and orange mixture as you fell down the tunnel, holding onto Peter's arms.

~~

Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you could only see a little. A small fluorescent light was swinging slightly overhead that was slightly blinding, still receiving the effects of seeing the explosion right in front of your eyes.

Groaning as you tried to sit up, you were stopped and looking down you saw Peter’s arms wrapped around you.

“Fuck, Peter.” You quickly unraveled yourself from Peter's surprisingly still tight grip and hung over him. “Peter wake up.” You took off his mask and started lightly slapping his face, then when he wasn’t budging you slapped him a little harder.

“Peter, stop playing with me.” You checked his pulse and could faintly feel it underneath your fingertips. You climbed off of him and grabbed his legs and lifted them up, trying to bring the blood flood to his head.

You heard a small whine escape Peter’s lips and dropped his legs down. “H-hey, are you ok?” Peter opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but you pushed him back. “Answer the question: are you ok?”

“I’m fine, my face just hurts though.” Peter tried to sit up again, moving your hand away from his body. “I have super healing, I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting you to die.” You huffed, getting up on your feet and looking up from where you both fell from.

“What were you doing with my legs?”

“You were passed out and I was trying to bring the blood flow back to your head.” You answered.

Peter sighed then looked around the tunnel. “Where are we?” Peter sat up and scooted over to sit up against the wall.

“Probably an escape route for scientists if they got raided, but I don’t know why they had to design it like that.” You pointed up while kicking around the little debris that fell from the same place as you both did.

“I think it's efficient.”

“The only reason we both survived that was because you took the blow and you have fast healing. I don’t think Hydra scientists could of survived that.” You argued and Peter just shrugged his shoulders.

“We should probably get going, the team is probably wondering where we are.” Peter slowly stood up by himself and shook his head, arms and legs out, trying to wake himself up. And you both headed down the tunnel.

You were always grateful Peter had that ability. After the countless times Peter used to fall down the stairs or trip and fall on the streets of Queens, it was probably the power he was most thankful for. All of the bruises on his knees and scratches on his elbows were never something that you liked seeing.

He was definitely not the most coordinated person; with or without powers.

There was one time that you two were walking out of Delmars and heading towards a park, around the time you both became Avengers, and you both were eating your sandwiches. Peter, ‘forgetting’ to eat Aunt May’s new dish -if you could call it that-, he was starving and ended up being too distracted to look where he was going.

“Do you really think Mr.Stark is gonna let us touch his tech?” Peter asked, practically jumping up and down from excitement.

“I thought that was part of the deal-”

“OH! Do you think Thor would let us try and lift his hammer?” All Peter was talking about to you was the Avengers. He couldn't confide with anyone else so he was giving you an earful on every little idea or question that came to mind.

“I highly doubt you could lift it.” You said as you took another bite of your sandwich.

“What makes you say that? I think I would make an amazing ruler of Asgard.” Peter was now walking backwards so he was right in front of you and he took another bite of his sandwich.

“I mean, sure, you living in your little Peter Palace would be cool and you would care about people but we are like a hundredth of their age.” You explained. “I don’t think they would listen to you. You can’t even get Ned’s little sister to listen to you.”

“Well she’s a bitch.”

“She’s seven.” You laughed, causing Peter to frown. “But I’m sure you would make an amazing Avenger. We both will.”

“Most definitely. And I cannot wait to make the Avengers my bitc- AH!” Peter slipped on some mud in the park and fell down on his back. Sandwiches dipped in mud and pants and shirt ruined.

You bursted out laughing while Peter just stared at the sandwich covered in the icky substance, his eyes brimming with tears, causing you to laugh even more.

“What about making the Avenger’s your bitch.” You giggled. Reaching out your hand to pull Peter up.

“Y/n! Y/n! Are you listening?” Peter yelled, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I asked if your tracker is working, mines smashed.”

You checked your wrist and saw that yours was crushed too, “No, it's broken.”

“Fuck.” Peter ran his hand through his curls and then looked back at you. “What were you smiling about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just now, you were staring off into space smiling. What was that about?” Peter pressed. “Was it nice seeing me in pain?”

“I was just thinking of all the times you fall on your ass.” You continued walking, your hands playing with the strings of the backpack you were surprised you still had with you, but grateful for something to fiddle with.

“I do not fall on my ass.” Peter grumbled.

“You do when we train together.”

“Oh please, last time we spared I kicked your ass.” Peter reminded you.

“Don’t ‘oh please’ me! You're the one who trips every five seconds.” You fumed. “Not to mention you can count all the times you’ve beaten me on one hand; and I can’t say the same.”

“That is so untrue! Are we just going to ignore how I saved you back there? If it wasn’t for my expertise we both would be dead.”

“I wouldn’t call tackling me ‘expertise’.” You teased.

“Is it really so hard to admit that I’m smart?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re impossible.” Peter whispered, unsure if he wanted you to hear it or not, but either way you did.

“And to think five minutes ago I was trying to wake you up! I should’ve just dragged you along. Or better yet, I should’ve just left you there.” You remarked, keeping your head looking forward. You didn’t bother to look at Peter, you knew he would do a simple eye roll and move on with his life.

And of course, Peter rolled his eyes, tired of the bickering and would much rather stay in awkward silence. What happened to us? Peter thought. Honestly, he hadn’t forgotten the encounter earlier this morning when Bucky had asked about you two.

You were always so close. Instant friends that could talk about anything and everything all at once. Then one day, there was something off. Almost like a gut feeling when he saw you. He would say something and you would snap, and if you said something he would snap.

Banter was always a part of your relationship. You two could only make fun of each other, and no one else, you knew each other's boundaries, and it was all teasing. But one day the teasing didn’t seem right anymore. He would do his normal teasing and you would too, it just, would feel weird.

Maybe you were just too hard on her and so she decided to be mean back too.

That thought has always bounced around Peter’s head. He would rack his brain thinking of what he possibly could have said to make this reality, but the problem was that he didn’t know when he started feeling his way to you.

Maybe it was always there, and it was just more evident now.

“Is that a door?” You snapped Peter from his thoughts and quickly ran to the end of the long corridor. A metal door was on the roof of the tunnel and you tried to reach for the handle but it was too high up. “Can you get it?”

Peter nodded, he couldn’t reach it himself either so he used his web shooter that was luckily still working, and was able to rip the door open. The refreshing smell of fresh air made both of you a bit more relaxed.

“Here.” Peter cupped his hands for your foot and then lifted you up so you could lift yourself up onto the ground. “Is anyone out there?”

You quickly looked around, nothing was around other than an empty highway and an excessive amount of trees. “No, it's clear and dark out so no one can really see us. Do you need help getting out?”

“No, step aside though.” You moved away from the opening and saw a web attached to the doorway which shortly followed Peter launching himself out of there. “Impressive, no?”

“No.” You said, not really paying attention to him. You walked a little closer to the highway and saw an exit sign. “There's a town down the road. My suit can pass for normal clothes so I could run into a clothing store and steal some clothes to wear. Then we can spend the night in a hotel or something.”

“You want to steal?” Peter's voice was raised, a little shocked.

“It’s not like we have money and we need to sleep. And unless you want to get exposed as Avengers, it's our only choice.” Peter was silent for a couple of seconds then reached for the bag on your shoulders and pulled it off. “What are you looking for now?”

“It’s a Stark bag.” Peter reached into the bag and started shuffling around, before slowly retracting his hand. “It’s bound to have money.”

“How much?”

“Enough.” Peter put the money back into the bag. “I’ll swing us over and wait in an alley for you?”

“Deal, just don’t drop me, or pretend too.”

“Yeah- no promises.”

~~

The town was fairly crowded, but it was easy to find an alleyway on the outskirts of town. You did get quite a few glances, people wondering what someone is going through to be wearing that type of clothing, but you just ignored them. Walking into the store you found a pair of sweats and sweatshirt for the both of you then splurged on some pajamas just because. You checked out and quickly ran back to the alley.

“‘K I got the clothes.” You tossed Peter his clothes while you gathered yours. “Turn around.” Facing opposite walls you quickly started to change into the sweats. “I saw a hotel down the street. We can head there.”

“Did it look alright?” Peter asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t think that you would be so picky about where you were sleeping tonight.” You put the sweatshirt over your head. “Done.”

“Same here.” You turned around and shoved your suits into the bag. You put it over your shoulders while Peter took the shopping bag. You walked out of the alley, making sure no one looked too suspicious, then practically ran to the hotel.

The doors opening wide while you both got blasted with AC was a refreshing feeling. Peter walked up to the receptionist at the desk with you right next to him.

“Hi, can we get two rooms for one night?”

“I’m so sorry sir, we only have one room left, will that be ok?” The lady asked.

Peter lazily nodded, trying to fight off a yawn. “Yeah that’ll work. How much?”

You took the bag off your shoulders and shuffled around for the wad of money. “It’ll be 350.” She said in her monotone voice, typing away at her keyboard.

You found the money and counted out 4 100 bills and put it on the desk, putting the rest of the money away. “Here.”

She raised her eyebrows at the cash, but then quickly put it away, “because your paying with cash there just so happens to be a $50 deposit so-”

“Yeah yeah keep the change it’s fine.” You mumbled, knowing full well that the deposit was already included, but you didn’t feel like fighting the women right now.

She slid a room key across the desk. “Room 311. Enjoy your stay.”

You slung the bag back over your shoulder and Peter took the room key as you headed for the elevator doors. Walking into the confined space with cheesy music playing you pressed the three and felt the elevator go up.

Leaning against the cool metal wall you noticed a flyer hanging up on the wall. “It looked like there was some work convention going on so that's why they’re all booked up.” You handed Peter the flyer and he took it, looking at the flyer out of pure boredom.

The elevator door pinged and you both stepped out then headed for the room. “If you’ll allow me.” Peter said, a little more awake now. He pressed the key against the scanner and heard the little happy chirp and swung the door open.

Peter looked in and his face dropped. “What's wrong?” You pushed Peter aside and walked into the room with Peter behind you.

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?” You joked. Seeing Peter blushing made you smile and you decided to continue. “Oh come on Petey, don't act like you haven’t fantasized of sharing a bed with me.”

“What! NO! No- no, I would never.” Peter stuttered, holding his hands up in defense.

“Peter, it's fine. Besides, there is plenty of room for both of us. Just choose a side.” You dropped the bag off your shoulders and gestured to the bed.

“I’ll take it right.”

“Perfect, I’ll take left.” You collapsed on your side of the bed and turned your head to look at Peter. “Go take a shower, you need it.”

“I’ll be sure not to use all of the hot water.” Peter joked.

“You better not.”

Peter gathered the t-shirt and pj pants you got him and dropped the bag of clothes and opened then shut the bathroom door. You heard the noise of the shower turning on then the running water. You rolled over and saw on the bedside table a phone. You quickly grabbed the phone and dialed Tony’s cell.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Your call cannot be answered at this time-

“Fuck.” You groaned, waiting for the automatic voice to end so you could record a message. “Hey Mr. Stark, it's Y/n, Peter and I are safe and good, staying at some hotel. We were able to escape with some exit, hope everyones alright. Just hurry up and call us back” You ended the call and set the phone down.

A menu caught your eye and you just realized how hungry you were. Reaching back to the phone, you dialed the room service. “Hi room service, what can I get, yea!”

“Hey, could I please get one large pizza, two waters and... “ you glanced back at the menu, looking to the dessert side. “Three slices of Cherry Pie?”

“Of course, what room?”

“311.”

“Great. It’ll be up in ten minutes, it will cost $50 which you’ll have to pay when it arrives, is that alright?”

“Perfect, thank you.” You hung up the phone and set the menu down. You heard the shower turn off and a couple of minutes later Peter walked out in just his pajama pants.

“Is it ok if I don’t wear the shirt? I’m a little hot.” Peter asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You got up from the bed and got your clothes from the shopping bag, ripping the tags off. “I ordered room service and it's gonna cost $50 so just give them a hundred and tell them to keep the change. It’ll be up in a few.”

Peter nodded and you went to the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

Peter collapsed on the bed, giving his body a much needed rest. In the shower he checked out all of his injuries. They weren’t too bad, his back was covered in bruises but they would probably disappear through the night. And his head felt right, he wasn’t nauseous or seeing the room spin so he knew he didn’t have a head injury.

He glanced at the bedside table as saw the phone. He reached over and grabbed the phone, and dialed Tony’s number. He heard the usual rings and groaned at the automatic recording.

“Hey Mr. Stark, Y/n and I are safe and ok and we are at some hotel. Anyways, we’re fine, the explosion caused us to use an escape route designed for the scientists in case they needed to leave. We have the backpack you gave Y/n on the jet which had a ton of money so we were able to get out of our suits.

Call me back when you get this, and come get us as soon as you can. Oh- and please call Aunt May before anything else and tell her I’m alright. If I call her she wont pick up because she doesn’t answer unknown numbers and doesn’t bother to check her voicemail. Thanks, oh- and this is Peter by the way but I’m guessing you knew that by now. Bye!”

Peter hung up the phone and luckily he heard a knock at the door, “room service.” Peter jumped to get the bag and took out a single crisp $100 bill. He swung the door open and saw a person with a little cart with food in containers. “May I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” Peter fully opened the door and moved out of the way. The person rolled the cart in then stacked the food on the small desk in the room.

“That’ll be $50, and here’s the check.” They handed Peter the receipt and Peter didn’t bother to go over everything closely. It looked right and he just tucked the $100 in there.

“Thank you so much! Have a nice night!” Peter chimed, handing the check back to them.

“And I’m sure you will too.” The employee smirked as they took the cart and headed for the exit.

“It's not like that! Not at all! ” Peter rambled. “Don’t worry, there will be nothing like that. No noise complaints or anything of the sort-”

“I’m joking, you’re fine. Just have a nice night.” They smiled and then left, and Peter closed the door.

“Are they gone?” You asked, peaking your head out the door.

“AH!” Peter jumped. “What the fuck don’t scare people like that. And yes, they're gone.”

You fully opened the door, walking out in your comfy clothes and feeling clean. “I thought you had super senses, so you don’t get spooked?”

“You’re not a threat.”

“I kick your ass in training all the time, what do you mean not a threat?”

“I’m not doing this argument again.” Peter concluded walking over to the food and setting it down on the ground. There wasn’t enough table space and he wasn’t just going to eat food on the bed, so the floor it is.

Peter opened the first large container, the pizza and moved it in between him and where you just sat down. He got the waters and tossed one to you. “Why did you get Fiji water? We could have used tap?”

“Because after walking that fucking tunnel I felt like drinking fancy water.” You explained. “Not to mention it's Stark who's paying so I don’t care.” You gave a light smile, twisting the bottle open and taking a sip.

Peter gave a small laugh and looked back to the continers and opened one of the last three. “Cherry Pie?”

“Yeah, I know it's your favorite, so I figured I should make this as New York as possible.” You reached for a slice of Pizza and took a bite. “I know Aunt May’s Cherry Pie is like your comfort pie, and I know this isn’t exactly Ray’s Pizza but-”

“You remember my favorite food?” Peter wondered.

“Well, yeah?” You said it like it was the most obvious thing, and to you, it was. “We were friends for years, so I think I know your favorite food.”

“I just didn’t realize you would remember.” Peter confessed, then raised his eyebrows when he noticed three boxes. “Why did you get an extra?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Figured you might need some extra comfort, and you’re probably not gonna get it from me.”

Finishing up a slice of pizza you took another while Peter did the same.

“You remember that time when we got Delmars and we just became Avengers so you were so excited, but then you slipped in mud and your sandwich was covered in mud?” You asked with a smile creeping back on your face at the memory.

Peter gave a light laugh too, “Yeah, I was so hungry that day. Aunt May had been trying out new meals and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings so I just said I forgot to try it. And when I saw the sandwich covered in mud, I debated if I should just scrape off the mud and continue eating it.”

“You were so lucky I was willing to share.” You added.

“I swear you saying you would share with me was better than anything else that has ever happened to me.” Peter chuckled, while trying to stuff his face with the rest of his slice of pizza. “What made you think of that?”

“I was thinking about that earlier. When you asked what I was smiling about.” You finished your half of the pizza and reached for a slice of pie and a fork.

It was silent for a little after that, and you started to wonder if that was too weird. You hoped he didn’t hate you more than what he already does.

Why do I care how he feels about me?

“What happened to us?” Peter asked, voice quiet. Already stuffing his face with his second slice.

“What do you mean?”

“Like... Why do we hate each other?”

You didn’t really know. Honestly you and Peter were always close then you just yelled at each other. That memory of Peter falling was probably one of your last happy memories together. Before you both start giving the other unflattering nicknames.

“Maybe when we became Avengers?” You guessed. “Maybe when we started training together and sparring with each other it got a little to…”

“Real?” Peter suggested and you nodded your head. You're both crazy competitive, and whenever someone loses it would always hurt someone's pride while inflating the others.

“What about you? What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, I just remember being friends one day, then not.” Peter thought back again, and still no memory of a spark that caused it all.

“I’ve missed it.” You felt your heart rate increase as the words just slipped out of your mouth, you didn’t mean to say it. But you meant it.

“Me too.” Peter said, but it sounded more like he was telling it more to himself. Like he wasn't confessing it to you but to his conscience and soul. He looked back up to you, and you could make out the cherry pie still on his face.

You didn’t speak for the rest of dinner. You finished everything and then threw it all away, followed by doing your nightly routines.

“So if we don’t get rescued tomorrow what do you want to do?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom to see Peter flipping through tv channels.

“We should probably stay put. When I called them and said our room. And what if they come while we’re out. They’ll think we’re gone.” Peter answered, turning off the tv and tossing the remote away.

“Well I called them too, so right before we leave we can leave another message telling them where we are going.”

“But what if there are Hydra people around? They could make us out somehow? I don’t want to get captured and have to deal with that.”

“LIke that is going to happen. You’re just being a baby.” You teased.

“No, I’m being realistic. How am I the baby when you're acting all whiney about wanting to go outside!” Peter raised his voice.

“Maybe I’m acting like a baby because I’m sick and tired of having to put up with your bullshit!” You yelled back. “Maybe I need some fucking fresh air from you!

“Fine! Tomorrow, be my guest! Leave and go explore whatever is here! I’m sure you’ll find some great fish gear shops and some hiking gear shops! Maybe, and just maybe you will find a shitty bar that serves shit beer that’ll let you in without ID!”

“I’ll need to be drunk if I’m going to spend anymore time with a fucking asshole like you-”

“HEY CAN YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN MY GIRLFRIEND AND I ARE TRYING TO GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP!” You both turned and faced the door, hearing the knocking fade and the footsteps disappear.

So much for no noise complaints. Peter thought.

“You’re a fucking dick do you know that?” You whisper yelled.

“At least I’m not a fucking bitch!”

And that was the end of that argument. You each just rolled your eyes then went to your side of the bed, on the very edge so you were farthest you could ever be from each other.

What the fuck happened. You thought. We were so close to becoming friends again. But who cares, I don’t want him as a friend. That part was true, the idea of being all buddy buddy with Peter made you feel sick inside. It wouldn’t feel right.

Peter on the other side was trying to figure out the same thing.

What did I do? We were almost there. And now it’s fucking ruined, all because I think we should be careful.

Was it really that suffocating for her to be near me?

~~

You woke up first. With your eyes still closed, not yet fully processed yesterday's events, you tried to stretch and shift to the side- but you couldn’t. You opened your eyes and started to take in your surroundings while the memories of last night came in.

Your legs were tangled with someone else's, your hand was holding someone else’s, and you were being held by someone else.

I really need to stop waking up in Peter’s arms.

You moved your head to an angle to see if Peter was awake. His eyes were softly shut and you could just see his lips partly open, light breaths coming out. He looked almost sweet… almost.

No sweet person would throw a fit just because you wanted to explore the town and stretch your legs. There was no way someone would be able to recognize either of you in public, Peter was just being paranoid.

Either way, with or without Peter, you needed to get out of this room.

You disconnected your hand from Peters and unraveled his arms. You quickly got out and replaced yourself with your pillow, hopefully he wouldn’t notice the difference and wake up now. You wouldn’t want Peter to ask what you were trying to do and having to explain that you were escaping his cuddling.

Once you were able to quietly and softly get yourself out from the bed you gathered your clothes from yesterday and changed in the bathroom. You saw a small red light coming from the hotel phone when you exited. You walked over stealthily, making sure you kept Peter asleep and picked up the phone.

“You have one message, please press one if you wish-” *Click* “Playing message.”

“Hey kids! I got your messages and we’re glad you're both safe. We all were able to leave the building before it self-destructed. We went back and searched for the both of you, and we did see a little escape route, so I guess we’ll take that and we’ll meet you at the exit at what? Noon? That should be plenty of time.

“And Peter, I called Aunt May to let her know you're safe, so don’t get all stressed when you can’t contact her so don’t worry. And Y/n I know you didn’t ask but I also reached out to your family, they think you're out doing some lab work for me so your cover isn’t blown.

“Anyways, don’t kill each other! Don’t keep us waiting! And don’t spend all of my-”

The message cut out.

You set the phone back and looked at the clock, it was 11, so you had an hour, it would take about a half hour to walk back to the site. And if you were to go downstairs to the little food area you’re pretty sure they had, you could grab a light snack before heading out on the walk.

Deciding that's what you were going to do, you got up, grabbed your room key and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind you.

Walking down the hotel hallway, you notice how every person you passed was in some sort of fancy suit, and how they would all stare at you funny in your sweats. Probably thinking what parent would bring their kid on a business trip.

You opted not to take the elevator, seeing a few other business people gathering inside, you rather not be stared at. Not to mention it gave you some time to think about everything.

As much as you hated to admit it, you vaguely remember moving around in bed. You remember rolling over at the same time as Peter, who wrapped an arm around you while you tried to get comfortable again.

Did he mean to do that? Or did his arm just so happen to fall that way? You thought. And why do I so badly want him to do that on purpose?

As much as Peter’s infuriating and killjoy opinions were last night, not to mention the constant yelling you did, it was somewhat comforting to have him near you. It was the same feeling when you woke up in his arms earlier, a mixture of feeling relaxed, then dread because of how at peace you were.

The feeling was somewhat familiar from even earlier though, before last night, before you hated each other, before you felt drained.

A little after you and Peter first became friends, way back when you could actually stand being near each other, you could notice the little heart skips when you see him. Every time you would go out into the field and you see him hurt would make your heart stop. Every time he would make you a smoothie ‘just ‘cuz’ would make your heart stop.

And you missed the feeling.

Instead you feel this regret building up inside of you. Regret of what? You had no idea.

You would tell yourself that you were simply regretful of being friends with him all throughout those years. Regretful of how you could ever let him into your life.

But how could you ever be so regretful of all of those memories? Memories of spending countless hours binge watching and judging movies. Memories of eating countless Delmars sandwiches and sometimes falling. Memories of accidentally falling asleep next to each other while talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Pushing the door open to the main floor, you headed to the complimentary buffet bar. Pursuing your choices, you wanted something light to eat. Knowing the team and their constant babying of you and Peter, they probably are going to make you eat something; right after the dozens of medical tests they’ll make you both do.

You opted for a bagel, and debated on getting Peter one. Mr. Stark did say that he gets stressed when he isn’t in contact with May, so maybe that's why he was being such a prick last night? The argument was completely and utterly a waste of time, there’s no time to actually do something before you have to leave. But still, if you wanted to have a snoop around town, you should be allowed to do so.

You got a bagel for Peter, grabbing a little box and placing it inside while also getting two small packages of cream cheese for him. Peter had a weird obsession with anything dairy, especially cream cheese. He would always put an excessive amount on his bagels, grossing you out with you telling him how he’ll eventually get sick of it, but he always ignored you.

You grabbed another box and sorted your bagel out. Now carrying the two small boxes, you headed back up to the room.

~~

Groaning, Peter awoke with the strong scent of you. As he opened his eyes he saw how he was clutching onto a pillow for dear life, and upon further inspection he noticed how it was your pillow. He quickly pushed it back to your side, which was empty and turned around, trying to smell something else.

He had the nose of a bloodhound, or at least what he thought was like a bloodhound's nose. Because his scenes were all dialed up, he could always smell everyone, or the most prominent person, which just so happened to be you.

He tried to shut his eyes again, wanting to drift off and get more sleep but then when he realized you weren't next to him, he couldn’t.

Why does he care? He has no idea. But what if something happened to her? Kept echoing throughout his head.

Now wide awake he took in his surroundings, double checking the bed again-bare other than him. Getting up, the room was empty, and walking over to the bathroom door, he knocked on the door.

“Y/n are you in there?” He shouted.

No response.

“Y/n please tell me if you are in there.”

Again, no repose.

“Y/n, I’m coming in!” He swung the door open, using a little bit too much strength thinking the door would be locked. The lights were off. The shower was empty. You weren’t here. Then where is she?

Peter, now panicking, scrambled out of the bathroom and looked over the room again, making sure he just didn’t imagine you were gone. Once he made sure you were gone he ran to the door and opened it, then not even bothering to probably shut it.

It’s all my fault. I told her to leave without me. Peter reminded himself. If anything bad happened to her, I did it. I encouraged it. I pushed her to leave.

But I never wanted her to leave.

He bolted down the twisted hallway and headed for the elevator. He kept pressing the down button, “come on, hurry up.”

He heard the stairwell door click but didn’t bother to look up. “Peter?” Peter whipped his head up. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You were walking up with some guy who was around your age that must have been here for the conference. You met on the stairs, you caught him holding a cigarette in his hands, unlit but he had a light in his hand.

“I think the smoking area is outside.” You mumbled as you tried to move past him on the steps. He gave a heavy sigh that caused you to look back, “are you okay?”

The man gave another sigh and shook his head, looking down at the stairwell. “No, sorry, it’s just I’m trying to stop but the people I intern under are such dicks.”

You gave a light laugh and moved the boxes and put them in one hand, leaning them on the side of your hip. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“It’s just that they don’t listen to my ideas because I'm new. I just want to be listened to, yeah know?”

“Yeah, I do know.” You groaned. “I’m here with one of my... colleagues and we’ve known each other for so long but for a while now he been acting like a fucking dick. But, the point is that he wouldn’t listen to my ideas because he thought I was being a baby.”

You looked over to the guy who was smiling and putting his lighter away in his back pocket but twirling the cigarette in his hand.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble and make it all about me-”

“No, you're fine. It’s just…” The guy moved to face you, fully showing his smirk. “You guys were friends-”

“Childhood friends.” You interrupted.

“Oh come on, that just makes it even more obvious!” The guy had a cheesy smile who was trying and failing to not laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t know?”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“I mean, your situation sounds funny.” He commented. “Describe what it’s like being around him.”

“Oh don’t go trying to therapize me or trying to analyze our relationship, th Av- my other colleagues have already tried that.” You cleared your throat, trying to pass it off as a small stutter.

He held his hands up in defense, “all right fine. But all I’m saying is that childhood friends are the perfect couples.”

“Romantic are we?”

“I may or may not have had a crush on my childhood friend.” He admits. “And I might still have a crush on him.”

“You should shoot your shot.” You advised. “Stop living through my shit relationship.”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t have a thing for smokers.”

“Good thing you're trying to quit then.” You tried. “But honestly you should ask him out.”

“Hey hey hey, this isn’t about my childhood crush, this is about yours! Now come on, is it really that weird of me to assume that you don’t have feelings for ‘em?”

“Yes! Extremely!”

“Are you sure you’re not just misinterpreting your feelings of love for hate? There’s a fine line you know.” He said matter of factly.

“I’m not following.”

“Just think about it.” He threw the cigarette down the stairs. “Anyways, I should get back to my room. Need to get a patch if I’m gonna have to go back in with the dicks.”

“Where were you! I-I woke up a-and you were gone and… and who is that?” Peter’s attention to the tall man next to you.

“Oh! This is…” You realized you never caught his name.

“I’m Harry Osborn-“

“Wait. As in Harry Osborn son of Norman Osborn of Oscorp?” Your eyes wide, looking back at the man who you were just venting with.

“Yeah, I thought you knew? Why would you talk to someone you had no idea you were dealing with?” Harry asked, getting a little annoyed by the lack of recognition.

“You talked to someone you didn’t know?” Peter’s voice was strained, trying to keep it steady but clearly failing.

You rolled your eyes at Peter, he knew full well that you could defend yourself, but his paranoia was getting on your nerves.

You ignored their comments, “didn’t you say your interning?”

“Under my dad yeah, planning on taking over the family business. But some of the fuckers in those rooms make be just wanna fuck them-“

“Hey Y/n, we need to get going.” Peter pulled on your hand. “Nice meeting you.”

You gave a small wave after being pulled by Peter, walking slowly backwards.

“Remember what I said! Childhood friends!” Harry yelled.

You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother to look at Peter. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know, he's just talking nonsense-.”

“No, I don’t mean him, I mean why would you go out? And what’s in your hand?”

“Maybe if you stop pulling my arm I’ll tell you.” You pulled away from Peter and his grip let go. “That was the first good thing you’ve done this whole trip.”

“What? Better than saving your life!” Peter opened the door and you shoved your way past him. “I didn’t even get a thank you!”

“Because I had to get you back into consciousness after you fainted!” You screamed. “I think we are even!”

“And you know what? I went downstairs to get you breakfast because Tony called and we have to meet him at the tunnel exit at noon! But you know what, forget it!” You threw his bagel box in the trash, causing it to fall down.

“The least you could do was leave a note! I thought some Hydra person came in and kidnapped you!” Peter fumed. “I-I just can’t-“

“Spit it out Peter! You just can’t what?”

“I just can’t lose you again! Please, it’s just all of this yelling and shit.” Peter stammered. “Just don’t make me lose you again.”

“What do you mean lose? We live right across the hall from each other.”

Peter ignored the question, “we just stop all of this bullshit. All of the arguing and constant screaming, it's just hurting us both.” Peter took a few steps closer, you were each an arms reach away.

“Why do you care anyways? Why the fuck would you care if I’m hurting?”

“Because I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?” Peter yelled. “Maybe this was some sick joke you were trying to play with me? The prank to end all pranks- playing with my heart?”

Your body betrayed you before your mind could come up with a more logical move, you closed the gap between by taking one step and crashed your lips onto his.

Peter’s heart started beating faster alongside yours; from a mixture of nerves and excitement. There was a moment of hesitation, slightly leaning back but you reassured him by leaning yourself closer to him.

All you could think about was what you would think if you could see yourself. See yourself wanting to kiss Peter more and more as the kiss gets deeper, more passionate, more fulfilling, and just more right. Something in your mind had clicked, all of the fighting and yelling had taken place from the pain of not being together.

Breaking away from the kiss, foreheads just grazing each other, you each breathed in a shaky breath. “You kissed me?” His voice was softer, just coming to terms with what happened, but still strained.

“You kissed me back!” you whispered.

The smile on Peter’s lips melted into a frown and his eyebrows furrowed as he took another step back, sitting on the side of the bed. “Was that part of the joke-”

“No asshole, just listen.” You interrupted, sitting down next to him.

“How loving.”

You took a deep breath in, collecting your thoughts. “Just listen.”

“I am listening.”

“Listening means shut up.” Peter stayed quiet so you continued. “I think love you too.” Your voice was drastically softer than before. You were too embarrassed to say it out loud, you’re in too vulnerable a position.

“I can’t hear you.” Peter teased. You rolled your eyes knowing damn well that Peter could hear you, advanced senses and all.

“I’m not saying it again.” You grumbled. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you saying the same thing earlier.”

Peter blushed, any pride he had diminished. He was just as vulnerable as you, but isn’t that when the truest emotions show through?

“What does this mean?” Peter asked, not daring to look you in the eye.

“Well what normally happens when two people love each other?” Your words teasing, but you were too busy thinking to make your tone teasing.

“They date, right?”

“No, they try to kill each other.”

“Honestly I think that's more likely for us.” Peter remarked. “But, in all seriousness, I think I do want to date you.”

“Don’t say it like you're disappointed!”

“What? No, no, no. I’m just…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Surprised?”

“Surprised that you would fall in love with someone way out of your league?” You joked, giving a small teasing smile to Peter.

“Yeah.” It surprised you that Peter didn’t say something back, he always says something back. “How do you feel?”

You sighed, racing your hand out to touch his, stroking his skin with your thumb. “The same way, I guess.”

“I GUESS?” Peter dramatically gasped, with a playful smile.

“You know what I mean. Just don’t make me regret it.” Your eyes wandered to Peter’s, then they caught sight of the clock. “FUCK! We’re going to be late to meet the others!”

You got up and reached for the bag and then got your bagel that wasn’t thrown in the trash and took a bite, Peter getting up behind you.

“What time-”

“In like ten minutes. Now come on, the others are gonna be pissed if we’re late.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room to the elevator.

“Do we have time to get food? You threw my bagel in the trash.” Peter whined. You shook your head. “Alright but could I atleast have some of yours?”

“Ew, what? That's disgusting.”

“We literally shared spit like two minutes ago and you didn’t seem to mind.” Peter grinned.

“Ugh, fine here, take a bite.” You handed the bagel to Peter who took much more than just a bite.

“Thank you.” Peter said even though his mouth was full, causing it to come out quite muffled. He swallowed his food and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

[mckkachins]

gif cut-out tutorial

ok ok so @subtledean requested a tutorial on how to do stuff like this post with the gif cutouts and the text effects. hopefully this helps aria ;w; i’m not the best at explaining things but i included some screencaps for clarity. i’ve tried to compress all the sample gifs and screenshots down to under 3mb to avoid tunglr compression on mobile so if they look a little different from the actual gifset, that’s probably why!

what you’ll need:

photoshop, i’m using PS 2021 but any version of photoshop will work out

a basic knowledge of gif-making (i’m assuming you already know how to make a gif and color it).

step 0: storyboard

this isn’t strictly necessary but i HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend it. you don’t have to do any photoshopping this first step, but it’s really important to check out your footage and the shots you have gathered to see what works, especially if you’re trying to combine three or more gifs onto the same canvas. like literally take a piece of paper and draw out where you want the character’s faces to be, where you want the cutouts to be in relation to their faces, and think about whether or not there’s enough empty space to the right or left of characters heads for a cutout to be placed. is there too much movement that would be distracting or messy in an already busy gif?

things like that really help, and it also makes you double check on your footage quality and feasibility. if you end up making a gif where you want one character’s face to be on the left side of the gif but it turns out there’s not enough empty space on the right side of their face to place a cutout and you then have to hunt for new footage or start all over, it’s kind of a trainwreck and you just waste another hour of your time as you deepen your procrastination hellhole. that’s not a real story—

step 1: make the base gif

i’m assuming you know how to color it already. and aria i KNOW you know how to color already so :) size it accordingly to your desired dimensions.

as you can see, i left enough space on the right side of abaddon for the knight cutout to be placed.

save this as a .psd file. you don’t actually have to sharpen and do everything that comes at the end of making a gif right away, but make sure your layers are clearly labeled. do NOT convert to video timeline/smart object just yet.

step 2: make the cutout gif

this is critical: make absolutely certain your cutout gif has the same number of frames as your base gif. otherwise it could get really messy! abaddon has 20 frames, so the cutout will also have 20 frames. again, do not convert the cutout gif to a video timeline/smart object. just keep it as a frame animation. here’s my cutout gif. it’s just a simple b&w gif but i added a touch of purple for color consistency sake whatnot.

now for this particular gif i’ve actually cropped abaddon to be roughly exactly where i would want her face to be in relation to the first gif, but that is unnecessary. helpful, but unnecessary. you do NOT need the cutout gif to be cropped exactly perfect in order to make this work.

step 3: combining the two gifs

there are many different ways to combine two gifs onto the same canvas. some people like to do it via video timeline. i prefer to do it by frames and convert everything to a video timeline only at the end (it’s just a personal preference). here’s a tutorial if you prefer working with timelines, but i’m gonna go over how to do it by frames.

first group everything in your base gif into one folder. then group everything in your cutout gif into one folder as well. you can name them however you want to keep track of things.

then, select all of the frames in your cutout gif. in this case, all 20 of b&w abaddon get selected. make sure its not just frames 4-20 or whatever, but all the frames you made. you can click frame one and then shift-click your last frame to double check.

click the timeline tab group options bar and then go to options > copy frames

now go to your base gif canvas. select ALL the frames of your base gif as well (it’s critical that all of them are selected).

now do options > paste frames.

a popup should appear and you’re going to select the “paste over selection” option. do not link layers.

your cutout gif should now be completely or partially obscuring your base gif. however, now you should see two groups on your sidebar of layers. one for the base, one group for the cutout. if you labelled them with names you can tell which one is which.

step 4: creating the cutout

in order to create the cutout, we use my favorite thing in the whole world of photoshop. layer masks.

to make a layer mask, you simply select a layer or group you want to mask and then click this little icon on the row of icons at the bottom of your layers panel.

white on a layer mask means whatever group or layer is getting masked is completely visible. black on a layer mask means that the group or layer is invisible. if there is 50% gray on a layer mask, then its 50% visible. so on and so forth.

i love these so much i abuse them on the daily. i’ve made a few gifs where i’ve masked every frame one by one because i wanted to get some cool effects. admitting that kind of embarrasses me but oh well.

anyway this is simple though. just find a picture or an outline of a knight. i used these boyes:

obviously i cropped out the knight of the bunch, got rid of the watermark, and then i placed it on the canvas where i wanted it to go.

select the interior of the knight with the magic wand tool. should be pretty simple since it’s all black.

now click over to your layer mask. make sure you have selected the mask and not the group. you can tell you have selected the mask when a little white rectangle pops up on it.

when you know you have the mask selected, click command+i or control+i to invert. if for some reason you do not have this keyboard shortcut, just take a brush tool and color over the area in complete black. as long as the magic wand tool is still selecting just the interior of the knight, it should be fine.

now once again, black means a layer will NOT be showing, white means a layer will be showing. so right now after i disable the visibility of the top layer we used as a reference for the silhouette, it looks like:

do not fear the clownery. layer masks are great because they are always non-destructive. meaning that even if you somehow mess up and your canvas is showing something completely gross, you can always go back and edit your layer mask and your original gif would be unharmed as long as you did not touch any layers in the group, only the mask. simply invert the mask (again, make sure your mask is selected and then command+i or image > adjustments > invert) to get:

for a layer mask that looks like:

you could have also just made a black layer mask to begin with and then inverted the knight outline to be white. many different ways to do the same thing.

another tip: if you select your outline and then click layer mask upon a group or layer with no mask at the current moment, it will automatically make a layer mask with your selection as white and the unselected pixels as black. this is normally how i do my cutouts, because it’s a time-saver even if it like. saves a few seconds max. but i typed out the above for explanation and clarity, so hopefully i didn’t just make anyone more confused.

anyway.

now say you don’t like where the cutout abaddon is positioned. layer masks can also be linked or unlinked, depending on the little link icon you see between the group and the layer mask in the image above. if the icon is visible, the layer mask and the group are linked. if you cannot see the link icon, they are unlinked.

linked layer masks will move in conjunction with the group if any type of transform is done upon them. if the group moves, the layer mask also moves. but if a layer mask is unlinked, you can move the mask and the group independently of one another. for instance, i can change where the cutout is located on the overall canvas of the gif by simply moving ONLY the layer mask (and thereby changing where the blacks and whites of the layer mask occlude the cutout gif contents). but i can also transform the cutout gif layers without changing where the overall outline is located relative to the canvas itself. basically, i can transform the interior contents of the cutout independently. so here (make sure all of your frames are selected):

group unlinked. i’m also making sure that now i am selecting the GROUP (ie. the frames of the layers you are actually going to move) and not the layer mask. you can tell because the little white rectangle around the layer mask can no longer be seen.

now i can transform/adjust the contents of the cutout solely “within” the cutout, and i don’t have to worry about changing where the cutout is located in relation to the overall gif. when transforming, make sure all the frames of your gif are selected. like select the whole group and not just an individual layer, basically.

i’ve seen a lot of how to combine and cut out gifs tutorials on this website, and here is a really good one that i know sully also used <3 big shoutout to all the photoshop queens being inspired by each other!! however i haven’t seen anything that mentioned the linked vs. unlinked layer masks, which i really feel like deserves a shoutout. you don’t have to crop your gifs out perfectly every time, you can always adjust them later. for demonstration, i’ve positioned abaddon in a few different positions with an unlinked layer mask.

step 5: creating the outline

so in order to emphasize the shape of the cutout (the knight), i simply delete the white space surrounding the picture of the knight in the original silhouette that i used. magic wand tool + delete. you can also make a new layer, then paint bucket tool it. many ways to do the same thing.

now with only the knight on a transparent background, i double click the layer to pull up the effects. select outer glow. i used these settings:

when you are doing this, make sure you are on frame one of the frame animation and the “propagate frame one setting” is selected, otherwise you might end up only applying the effect to one out of your many frames, which blows.

then i go change the fill setting to 0%, BUT i leave opacity at 100%. fill is basically like opacity, but it doesn’t affect layer effects (whereas opacity does). so you basically get only the outline but not the black. you can also set the blending mode of the layer to screen and get the same effect, etc, etc. feel free to adjust however you see fit, in addition to the outer glow settings.

i move this layer over a couple pixels to give it the little offset effect, but you don’t have to.

step 6: adding the text

okay the two fonts i used are avenir and perla. i think a LOT of gifmakers use them because they’re really pretty.

i make TWO different text layers, one with avenir in a smaller size and one with perla in a bigger size. this is because for the perla one, i’m going to be changing the blending mode whereas i don’t want to be changing the blending mode for the smaller text. i position the text where i want it to be and make sure the perla font is in the color i like:

then i change the blending mode of the fancy text (perla) to difference. ONLY that layer, and again make sure to check “propagate frame 1″ and make changes on the first frame to apply the change to all of your frames.

but i still don’t think it produces enough of a difference. so i right click on the text layer for knights of hell, and then go to: select pixels.

then i click the curves adjustment layer. this will automatically make a curves layer with a layer mask that occludes everything BUT the area you selected. beautiful. i drag the curves around until i get enough of a difference that i like. normally i make the lights lighter and the darks darker. yeehaw.

again there are sooooo many different ways to achieve the same effect on photoshop. this is just want comes easiest to me, and it’s totally okay if you find a different way that works better for you at producing the contrast you want or the colors you want.

step 7: export and cry

NOW you can convert everything to a video timeline, put your video frame layers to smart objects, and then apply your finishing sharpening filters. export, cry, and hope tumblr compression doesn’t screw you over.

hopefully this was helpful! pls like... idk support my edits if you found this helpful or reblog this post. feel free to dm me about how u do some of the text effects as well bc i’m always trying to learn new things and i am by no means an expert on like. any of this.

aria please go write your fucking thesis before i delete this entire tutorial challenge. :D

[bubmyg]

there was no particular reason i wrote all this down other than reading the translations to my universe made me cry last week because i’m just Like this. this is a mini compilation of yoongi lyrics that i hold gently in my palm and close to my heart in a he’s my artist for life kind of way. these aren’t all my favorite yoongi lyrics, i certainly have more but not ones that fit this general vibe. 

this is like extremely disorganized, i kind of just wrote it like a journal (and i’ll probably copy it to my bullet journal at some point actually). interpretations are my own, music is cool in that we can all read and hear the same thing and get different things out of it (which is why yoongi has often said he doesn’t attach specific meaning to things, giving it up to the listener instead)

so yeah. here’s me being fond of yoongi in 4k for no reason other than. idk. i wanted to. all translations are from doyoubangtan and doolsetbangtan. 

song request - lee sora ft suga

“I’ll be with you, for your birth and your end; That you’d remember that I’m with you, wherever you are; I’ll be a comfort for your life at any time, and so; please, that you’d lean on me and take a rest, every once in awhile.”

to me, this perfectly encapsulates what creating music is for yoongi in a two-fold kind of way. not only does he want his music to be a source of comfort for those who listen to it (just as the art of music is for himself), he’s also consistent in his assurance that taking a rest is okay. not being okay is okay. simply existing for the time being is okay. it’s a gentle empathy that comes from the experienced heart of someone who’s not going to tell you that it is okay, but will tell you that it won’t always be like this. friendly little moon trying to get you to smile with him on sleepless nights.

so far away - agust d ft suran

dream, will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships

this was on my undergrad graduation cap. it’s one of my favorite lyrics of all time. if so far away is my heart song, this is my heart lyric. this is a common motif in yoongi’s lyrics; dormancy is only temporary, you will bloom at the end of the cold winter.

dream, hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life

creation to end is another common motif n his lyrics. in this specific context, i imagine it to most closely be analogous to holding dreams close to you your entire life. dreams are dreams no matter how they manifest, even if they’re simply something you long for until your “end”.

Hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life; It will be generous to you wherever you stand; It will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships; The beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will the future be

the entirety of this song reads like a story and this last refrain reads like the conclusion (kind of). the slight wording change from the previous choruses means a lot in that regard, more definite and firm. you will be okay. maybe not now, maybe not next week. but you will be.

suga’s interlude - halsey ft suga

Though the dawn before sunrise is darkest; don’t forget the stars you longed for only rise in the darkness

just a really pretty but heart wrenching lyric in the context of the entire song. he’s also used this metaphor several times. i love me a good string of consistency with minor adaptations to fit the vibe. this song also made me cry the first time i read the translations lmao.

my universe - coldplay ft bts

Because the trial we face now is just for a moment anyway; All you have to do is to just keep shining bright like now; And we will follow you, embroidering this long night

this could mean so many things depending on how you wanted to contextualize it. of course the song is about love, so you could view it in that way. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic where we can’t see each other. or maybe it’s simply existence. continue to exist and one day your bright light will be followed even in the darkest of nights.

also the og title of telepathy being 잠시 (for a moment) is so...min yoongi you are so cool

people - agust d

Did someone say humans are the animals of wisdom?; The way I see it, humans are the animals of regret

Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries; Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries

super simple to understand which i think makes it more poignant. especially if you contextualize it with everything he’s said or written regarding the plight of fame and how he himself grapples with it as min yoongi.

28 - agust d ft niihwa

just this whole song. if song request encapsulates yoongi’s musical ethos, this captures a lot of his general musings.

paradise - bts

Just living like this, surviving like this, that’s my small dream; Dreaming dreams, grasping dreams, breathing breaths, it’s often too much

a more blunt take on the simply existing is a good enough dream. yoongi’s 2018 new years message was one of the things that made me go “yes. Him™” so paradise is very <3 for me

interlude: shadow - bts

Flying high scares me; I mean, nobody had told me; how lonely it is here –;how my leap could be my fall

another thing he uses frequently, even as recently as an interview regarding permission to dance. the contemplation of how a fall is far scarier than landing because getting back up is uncertain.

Yeah, I’m you and you’re me, do you finally get that now?; Yeah, you’re me and I’m you, do you finally get that now?

the entirety of this song is haunting particularly paired with the sampling and the music video as a visual but this part is just...the whole idea of competing internal voices throughout the narrative of the song or if you’d rather truly treat the lyrics like a piece of literature, you have quite the unreliable narrator, one that’s trying to grapple with his own sense of self.

140503 at dawn - agust d

Pretending that I’m not lonely, pretending that I’m not suffering; needlessly pretending that I’m okay, and pretending hard that I’m strong; I built a wall in front of me, “Don’t come inside”; I’m an island in this wide ocean, “Don’t abandon me”

the entirety of agust d just makes me ache but i mainly pulled this part because he uses the island metaphor consistently. here, it’s used like i said before; achingly.

this song also gets overlooked a lot in the larger context of agust d but anyway

eight - IU ft suga

Island, yeah this is an island; a small island that we made for each other; Yeah, mm, forever young, the word ‘forever’ is a sandcastle; A farewell is just like an emergency text warning of a disaster; A morning met together with yearning; As each of us pass this eternity, we’re sure to meet again on this island

can i be honest and say i forgot this song came out at the beginning of the pandemic. anyway, if you haven’t heard the various times that jieun has spoke about this song and it’s conveyance, i encourage you to. the music video also gives a beautiful visual.

i wrote a small analysis of this when it came out so i’ll just put it here 

burn it - agust d ft max

I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage

of course this can absolutely be taken at a literal meaning especially considering he said a similar iteration of this to someone on kkul fm BUT i also like looking at it in context of the entire song because maybe this is him trying to convince himself too, especially considering the wording of the last chorus doesn’t change it so it implies in order to get past the fire u need to let it burn first? burn it = giving up on some aspect of pain?

i see why max didn’t shut up for eight months about making this song i wouldn’t either hello

outro: tear - bts

im including this one firstly because i love the song but secondly to say i knew the second u all were surprised by yoongi saying he wrote this as essentially a break up song for bts and they all cried while listening to it that y’all don’t actually read or interact w their lyrics fjdklafjsd

just bc it’s a rap song doesn’t mean it’s a diss or a flex. weirdos.

intro: never mind - bts

I hope you forget about all your mistakes and such; Never mind; It’s not easy, but engrave this in your heart; If you think you’re going to crash, accelerate more, you idiot; Never mind, never mind; Whatever thorny path it may be, go run; Never mind, never mind; There are a lot of things that you can’t control

the entire composition of nevermind is similar to first love and shadow to me where you can just hear the emotion in his voice while performing it

this is also another general idea that he mentions a few different times through different songs which as we’ve seen i am <3 for

intro: the most beautiful moment in life - bts

once again i don’t have a specific lyric to pull i just love this song so much and i feel like it isn’t talked about enough because first of all the use of the basketball throughout the instrumental, the incorporation of the origin of his stage name into an entire song regarding his general existence as a performer and coming into the beginnings of sizeable fame, and just his general way of essentially writing one giant ode to something he loves and analogizing it to something else he loves to talk through internal struggles.

aka im once again saying min yoongi you’re so cool

first love - bts

same line of awe from above this whole song is just a story, a poem, a journal entry, a beautiful confession, i don’t know. this is yoongi’s best bts solo u can argue with a wall about it also if you were able to see this live i hope u have a terrible week (im joking)

every fancam i’ve ever seen of this makes me cry. so. do with that what you will in regards to how i feel about this song.

[duckprintspress]

What is a Story?

When Duck Prints Press put out our call for applicants, we asked everyone to submit “a sample of their work (between 1,000 and 2,000 words)… [that] must function as a short story.” When we reviewed the 100+ samples we received, we noticed many areas where writers commonly struggled. Based on what we learned, we’ve planned a number of blog posts to discuss these challenging areas, and we’ve decided to tackle one of the most frequent issues first. Many otherwise strong submissions lost points on our rubric line regarding “plot and events,” and specifically, they scored a 1 or a 2 because “the story has no plot (for example, is a vignette).” 

So, this begs the question, what is a story, and, of course, what isn’t a story?

(note that throughout this post, I use the word “narrative” to refer to any amount of text that may or may not be a story, and I use story only in a more narrow, specific sense.)

What is a story?

The answer is deceptively simple: a story is any narrative that has a plot. But...what is a plot? There are many ways to define a plot, but at its most basic, a plot has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and by the ending, something has changed. If, at the end of the story, nothing has changed, then it’s not a story. However, even if something has changed, it’s still not necessarily a story, because characters and time-frame also influence the definition. A narrative without at least one character is not a story. Likewise, a narrative time-frame, if it’s discussing events at a meta-level (“this happened, then this happened, then this happened”) may show that changes occur, but it’s still not a story - it’s an overview or an outline. The lines, of course, can be blurry - and where any given author, reader, or DPP reviewer draws the line between “this is a story” and “this isn’t a story” will vary. 

How is a story communicated to the reader?

To function as a story, the narrative must include characters. Now, character doesn’t necessarily have to mean person, or even require sentience, but there must be some point of view being explored, and if the character is an animal or an inanimate object, writing it as a character will require a degree of anthropomorphizing. The key aspect is that the character has some form of agency - some ability to interact with and influence their surroundings. This character will have a point of view and a perspective that affects how they perceive the story’s setting, and by the end of the story this character should have either changed themselves, or changed their surroundings, or changed their relationships. The circumstances around this character must be different by the end of the story than they were at the beginning - or else it’s not a story.

What is change?

As part of the narrative, one or more characters in the story must engage in some form of activity that results in the world around them changing. Writing advice most oftenly calls this “conflict,” but honestly? I hate that word. The classic couching of “person vs. self, person vs. person, person vs. nature, person vs. society, person vs. fate” as the available types of conflict is tired. Defining the only kind of change as conflict and specifically describing it as “x versus y” is to automatically get a potential writer thinking in terms of antagonism. While antagonism is one available type of change, it’s not the only, and while many pieces of writing advice point out that these “versus” constructions don’t mean enmity by nature...why not simply choose a less confusing construction, one that doesn’t require addenda to explain the existence of narratives that clearly are stories but are less “versus” and more “and” - “person and self,” “person and person,” “person and nature,” “person and society,” “person and fate.” I’ve opted to use the word change, because one of the clearest ways to tell if a narrative is a story or not is to look at the nature of the character(s) are at the beginning, and look at the nature of them at the end, and say - what’s different? Maybe they’ve built something. Maybe they’ve reached a new understanding. Maybe they’ve conquered a challenge. Maybe they’ve altered their perspective. Maybe they’ve learned something. Maybe, they’ve changed the world, or maybe, they’ve just changed a light bulb - but something has changed.

Before some writing snob comes at me and says, “okay, fine, we dare you to come up with a plot that doesn’t fit into the classic five conflict types” ...of course we can’t. That model functions because all stories can be shoehorned into it, as long as very loose definition of “conflict” and “versus” are used. But because it’s described in oppositional terms, a lot of writers get distracted by that terminology and think there has to be, well, a conflict, in the narrow definition of the word. And that’s clearly absurd - many of our favorite fanfiction tropes, for example, are fluffy and comforting and soft precisely because they’re not about conflict, they’re about harmony. Yes, “enemies to lovers” is wonderful, but so is “friends to lovers.” Two people going on a date that ends with a marriage proposal is a story: they started out as a couple and ended engaged. Something has changed - their relationship status. But to call that “person versus person,” while perhaps technically correct, is ludicrous. Now, to keep it interesting, there might be some “person versus self” - “I’m not worthy of this love, omg do they really care for me, oh will society give us problems if we say yes?” which is how it can be shoehorned into the “conflict” model. But be it ever so soft, and their love ever so accepted, and their faith in each other ever so steady - if there really is no conflict, just those two people meeting up and having a nice night and ending in a proposal...it’s still a story. To say it’s not a story because there was no conflict, only an advancement of their relationship...yes, a story like that is borderline to being a vignette or “slice of life” narrative. Certainly, if there’s zero sources of tension, it may not be a very interesting story, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a story. 

What else does a story need?

Honestly - not much. Don’t get us wrong - a story is stronger if it has a setting so that it doesn’t just take place in endless blankness. A story with multiple characters but no form of dialog (verbal or non-verbal) may be a little flat. A story where something changes but some of the introduced plot elements aren’t resolved will feel incomplete to a reader. A story without any negativity could be boring. Stories lacking these elements may not be good stories...or they could be amazing, and innovative, showing how a tale can be told without elements we usually consider essential! As long as something or someone has changed, and the story is told in a narrative, descriptive format that includes a character - it’s a story.

What isn’t a story?

Things that aren’t stories fall into two broad categories:

Narratives that have description, characters, dialogue, setting, and other story elements, but nothing changes. Examples of this are “slice of life” narratives and what, in fandom-parlance, would be called an episode coda or canon insert - a chunk of narrative deliberately meant to make a bridge between two established events but in which nothing can change because the surrounding events remain established. (A coda or insert might be a story, it varies.)

Narratives that are either entirely “show” (for example, a vignette) or entirely “tell” (for example, a synopsis),  These can also be seen as relating to time - either there’s little or no passage of time (usually the case in vignettes) or far too much passage of time (usually the case in synopses). Narratives like this may or may not include a character, but even if they do, they’re still not stories. Why not? Because any story that is entirely “show” and involves minimal passage of time is unlikely to result in change, and instead will be an extended description of a moment. And any story that is entirely “tell” and depicts a large swath are overviews - there’s no element to actually grab a reader and no reason the reader should care about this dry relationship of events. That’s not a story - it’s a history textbook.

Drawing the lines between these categories can be difficult, and to some extent will come down to taste. Anyone who says there’s a hard-and-fast rule in writing is a liar. Just because a synopsis or a “slice of life” narrative isn’t usually a story doesn’t mean they will never be one. But, in general, if you’re looking at a piece of work and you’re trying to determine if it’s a story or not, there are some signs that will strongly suggest it’s not a story:

There are no characters.

There is no setting.

Nothing has changed between the beginning and ending of the narrative.

The entire narrative is an extended description of a single person/object/setting.

The entire narrative could easily be reworded into a sequence of, “thing one happened, then thing two happened, then thing three happened, then thing four happened.”

The narrative feels like a “pause,” or a “bridge” that takes place between two events that aren’t depicted in the narrative.

A central conflict or issue is introduced or described in details, but nothing is done to try to solve the issue.

Now, for the most important part of this discussion of what isn’t a story: writing something that isn’t a story isn’t a bad thing! Especially in fanfiction communities, we live for self-indulgent narratives that make us happy. We love to see those “moments between.” We live for a thought-out thousand-year history for some setting that didn’t originally have that much background. These kinds of narratives are fun to write, and especially when they’re part of an existing franchise, can be a delight to read. We are not saying that there is literally anything wrong with writing a narrative that isn’t a story. 

That said, Duck Prints Press’s applicant call specifically asked authors to submit a writing sample that was a story, with the eventual goal of selecting authors to write short stories for an anthology. Which is to say: there’s nothing wrong at all with writing “slice of life” stories, codas, canon inserts, vignettes, or synopses - it’s simply not what we asked people to submit in this specific case, and we’ve come to see that a lot of people submitted non-stories without an apparent understanding of the difference, and we wanted to explain that difference.

But, to everyone reading this: write whatever brings you joy, in as much detail or vagueness as makes you happy, and share it with whoever you want. Just also understand, that for many types of narratives, if you’re asked “is that a story?” it’s not. That’s not to create a hierarchy - they’re all equal as art forms, they’re just not the same.

Okay I kinda understand this in theory but what do these differences actually look like in practice?

In long-form works, it’s usually relatively easy to recognize what is a story and what isn’t. Almost every novel ever published has a plot, and has things change, and is therefore a story. (though there are exceptions - Wikipedia lists a few longer vignettes and, when done thoughtfully, it can be astonishingly effective.) However, in shorter works, it can be difficult to tell the difference - and, as previously mentioned, the lines can blur.

In the interest of giving an idea of what the differences are, here are a few examples I quickly cooked up to try to show you all, since I’ve done a lot of “telling” so far (this blog post: also not a story, ha!) and very little demonstration. These are each around 150 words, to show that even in a tiny word count, any of these narrative structures is a viable choice. (Sorry these aren’t high literature - I just threw them together for this post, so I’d have something that suited.)

(read more)

A story - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where something changes:

The door slammed open. Looking up from her embroidery, Victoria blinked as Margaret strode into the room.There was an air of expectancy that was inexplicable to Victoria; she grew more confused when Margaret approached and dropped to one knee.

“What are you doing?” Heart pounding, Victoria attempted self-restraint, but she couldn’t rein in her hope, because it almost looked like...it seemed like...but--

“Proposing,” announced Margaret, pulling a velvet-covered box from her pocket and opening to reveal an emerald set in a gold band.

“But you can’t!”

Margaret tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Why not?”

Objections occurred to Victoria, but examining them...she couldn’t think of a one that Margaret wouldn’t demolish with her usual brilliance. “You know what? You’re right. Who’s to stop us? And...I accept.”

And as Margaret slipped the ring onto Victoria’s finger, she knew: there could be no objection. Nothing had ever felt so right in her life.

“Slice of life” - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where nothing changes:

“What a day!” said James, dropping onto the couch with an exhausted sigh. 

“I know what you mean,” Tom agreed. He fumbled a hand across the cushion separating them, and James delighted in the simple comfort of threading their fingers together.

A beep, beep, beep sounded in the kitchen, announcing that the microwave had finished nuking their leftovers.

“You getting that?” asked Tom.

“It’s your turn!” James countered.

“But I don’t want to let go of your hand.” Tom gave his hand a squeeze, and a pleased glow suffused James’s chest.

It was Tom’s turn to retrieve their dinner.

But Tom was right - holding hands was wonderful.

“Let’s get it together,” James suggested. 

Hesitating, Tom remained still as James sit up and gave a tug on their joined arms, then he broke into a smile and rose at James’s side.

“I love the way you think.”

“I love you, too, darling”

And together - always together - they got their dinner.

“Bridge” scene, episode coda, or canon insert-style fic - a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, where nothing changes:

Arriving home after the battle, Sandy opened the rough-hewn door and shed her damaged armor. Her dented cuirass had left an aching bruise across her chest; she carried it to the smithy out back for repair in the morning. A gash on her thigh throbbed where an arrow had pierced the straps holding her greaves in places; she brought them to her leather-working station. Nicks and fissures marred her once-gleaming sword blade. All Sandy wanted was to collapse in bed, but resisted the pull of relaxation, because blood limned the damaged places red, and repair to the damaged weapon couldn’t wait. Taking a seat, placed her feet on the treadles that set her whet stone to spinning and set about polishing out every imperfection.

Yes, she was exhausted.

But her sword must be cleaned, and smoothed, and honed, and prepared.

Sandy must be prepared.

There would always be another battle to be fought.

Vignette, a narrative without a beginning, a middle, or an end, which may or may not have a character, and nothing changes and in which the emphasis is on showing, rather than telling (but, as in this example, a combination may be used):

The wind blew chill down the narrow mountain pass. All was silent, save for the rush of the breeze. All was still, save where gusts stirred the tall grasses and the branches of trees that reached, claw-like, toward the sky. 

Once upon a time, a stream had carved this cut through the cliffs, forcing its way through soft chalk and hard shale, leaving jagged stones that emerged from the steep pass walls like teeth. The stream was long dry, now, only water-smoothed stones strewn across the ground to show where it had ever been.

Once upon a time, travellers had traversed the dried-up rill bed, pounding down the dirt, knocking the rocks aside, leaving scars where their fires burned. They’d lived, and laughed, and explored, and sought...and left, never to return.

Now, there was nothing: nothing but the storm.

And all was silent.

And all was still.

And the wind blew, chill, down the narrow mountain pass.

Synopsis, a narrative with a beginning, a middle and an end, which may or may not have characters, and where something changes, and in which  the emphasis is on telling rather showing:

Emperor Xiang Zhen was born in 9884 to Dowager Empress Luo Zexi and the warlord Xiang Yijun. After his birth, there was a long period of strife. Those who supported Xiang Yijun’s claim to the throne battled those who still supported the Dowager Empress’s deceased husband Peng Zhenya. Eventually, the factions found common ground when Xiang Zhen came of age, and he was enthroned in 9902. 

With his reign came peace and prosperity. The arts flourished. Scholarship advanced, and many great Dao masters arose, using cultivation to rid the land of evil’s left by the long war. Xiang Zhen longed to join a Night Hunt himself, but he was trapped by his political position. He didn’t dare risk the fragile stability in the Empire. If something happened to him, the results could be catastrophic. So he studied, and ruled, and adjudicated, and endowed, and endured.

Xiang Zhen did as he must.

But, oh...he wished he weren’t alone.

I know this is long, so we’ll leave this discussion at this point. Hopefully you found it helpful, and please do let me know if you have any questions! Duck Prints Press is always here to offer support to writers, and we love getting writing asks!

[writingsbychlo]

upholding traditions | dave hodgman

word count; 19,396

summary; a year later, dave finding himself in need of his christmas party saviour again, and is missing his girlfriend, thinking she won’t make it home for the holidays.

notes; honestly, this switches between his POV and hers a lot just to get the full story across, so just roll with it. click here to check out their new years outfits, I had very particular images in mind.

warnings; underage drinking, smut, semi-public sex

“Oh, Dave, isn’t that just the loveliest little garden?” He could only nod, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, to contain the yawn that he wanted to release. On one side was his mother, and on the other side was his ex, her shoulder pressed up to his as the perfume he once thought smelt alluring and sexy now just gave him a headache and made his nose wrinkle was overwhelming, her phone held out in front of the two of them, as she swept through photos of her new home. “You know, Dave, if you had a nice little house like that, you could host some lovely little event. Are you planning to host any, Aubrey?”

He gave her his best smile, knowing how fake it all must seem, and when she finally pulled her arm back and placed her phone away, her body leaving his side, he felt like he could breathe again, no longer sandwiched between the two women. The problem was simple; his mother had joined his neighbourhood book club, as had Aubrey’s mother, and over the year, as the group cycled between various members houses for meetings, his mother had become much more social and friendly. Aubrey had transferred home for college, after Ronnie and his piss-poor band had landed a series of songs to be made for cat-food commercials that he considered his ‘big break’.

Slapping an engagement ring on the pushy blonde’s finger and deciding the two of them would move in, Dave had come home from college, exhausted and ready to crash, to find his mother had befriended his ex, and everything since that day only one week ago had been a steady de-escalation in his run down to Christmas.

After the raging success that last year’s set of Christmas parties had been, and the formation of the neighbourhood book club - who seemed to have now self-elected themselves as the community event organisers - he once again found himself standing in an itchy festive jumper on Christmas Eve, a glass of punch in his hand as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that if his mother and his ex-girlfriend got any friendlier, she might actually start being invited to family gatherings and thanksgivings.

With her ‘big news’, in the form of an engagement and a small house in her hometown as she decided she was never going to break free, apparently, Dave found himself with a whole new set of problems. He was being badgered by everyone he knew about when he was going to settle down, when he was going to find himself a nice girl, when was it going to be his turn to get a house or start making roots, and what his direction was?

The worst of it all? You weren’t here to save him this time.

Three weeks before Christmas, and you’d broken the news to him over your weekly video chat date. You weren’t making it home for Christmas this year, your junior college year workload had all become too much and you were staying behind over your break to finish it all up. You’d been vague, not many details and so he didn’t have much to talk about when the older ladies of the neighbourhood asked him where you were, meaning they were all fixing him with disapproving stares and offering to set him up with their granddaughters or nieces.

Glancing around the room, he longed to catch sight of you, your sweet smile, enough to light up a room, but he already knew he wouldn't find you. The last time he had seen you in person had been the summer, when he’d flown all the way to your university campus as a surprise, spending the entire last week of summer with you, and flying back for his first day there, falling asleep in his first lecture of second year, and yet he hadn't regretted a moment of it. Going to college at the opposite end of the country to your girlfriend was hard, more so when your schedules never aligned and workloads began to pile on, but he struggled not getting to see you for so long.

Swallowing thickly, Dave gave up on all decorum and falseness of polite wishes, not missing the side-eye his mother gave him as he slumped out of the conversation, not having a single fuck to give about the names of paint samples Aubrey had been trying on the walls, but instead dipping down to sit in the chair closest to himself. The night was pushing on, and he had no doubt that the dinner would be being served soon, and he placed his chin onto his hand, elbow balanced on the tabletop as he propped up his head and tried to stay awake.

“Dave, you’re being rude!”

He flinched as his mother pinched at his shoulder, and he swatted her away, glaring up at her as he scowled at him, and Aubrey chuckled a little, a sound that grated his nerves when he was already wearing so thin on tolerance for any kind of festivities right now. “Girl talk, am I right?”

“Sure, Aubrey.”

“I think there’s something else bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” His mother cooed a little, patting her shoulder, before seeming to find someone else to talk to, wandering away across the room and starting up another conversation, leaving him alone with the woman, and she sipped at the drink in her hands as she stared at him. “Is it because you’re here alone?”

Narrowing his eyes on her, he huffed, and she shrugged slightly.

“It’s okay to be alone, Dave.”

“I’m not alone.” His words were growled out a little bit, and she only seemed to fix him with an even more pitying look, shaking her head slightly, grown-out bangs falling into her face from the slicked-back style she’d put them in, and she tucked them away, the smile on her face now unobscured, and he couldn't quite decipher whether it was condescending or just overly concerned. “I’m not. My girlfriend just couldn't make it for Christmas this year.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

He deadpanned, straightening up a little bit to look at her more clearly, and she fixed him with an innocent look. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She took another sip of her drink, clearly not done with her statement, before her shoulders were slumping as she waved her hand, trying to brush it off. “Sometimes it can just be a bad sign, y’know? When one person in a relationship starts to give up, and the other person starts having to carry all the weight. It never works out.”

“Oh, you mean like how it ended up with us?”

“That’s not fair.” She mumbled, at least having the dignity to look a little offended and guilty. “I was young, I was all over the place with my emotions. I didn’t know what kind of baggage I had then. I thought you were right for me, but it didn’t work out. I’m just saying, anybody who can’t make time for you at Christmas might not be worth it. C’mon, Dave, it’s the holidays. What else could she be doing?”

He gaped a little, not quite sure how to reply, a prickle of doubt racing through his veins as he thought about her words, a feeling he knew was inappropriate because he trusted you implicitly and knew you’d never lie to him, and he was certain that the flame was burning strong still, but now she’d planted that seed of anxiety, and it was growing rapidly.

“She should be here. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all.”

His lips flicked up at the edges, a smile mirrored on her face as she finally cracked through his shell, and he knew she wasn’t all that bad, she just had no filter and ofter was a little too crass for her own good, but Aubrey wasn’t a terrible person, he just didn’t like her all that much. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he patted himself down for it, lifting it to his face, and feeling the entirety of his body perk up as your name flashed access the screen with a new unread message.

A simple text, asking what he was up to, and Aubrey chuckled as she realised it must have been you, but he was barely even in the room anymore, mentally he was in a bubble with you, now. Lifting his phone up to take a picture of the event before him, his eyes swept across everyone in the shot, just once, before he was pausing, and looking again. Lifting down the device, he stared out at the crowds with an uninterrupted gaze, checking that what he was wasn’t just a red-clad illusion on his phone screen.

No, he was right.

There you were, hands still tucked inside the pockets of your coat, scarf around your neck, and you waved at him, phone in your hand still open to the texts on the screen, and he shot up in his chair as he stared at you, jaw hanging open and a disbelieving look on his face. Turning off your phone and tucking it back into your pocket, you unwrapped your scarf from around your neck, hanging it up on the overly crowded coat racks, and turning away from him as you watched your boyfriend get up from the table to shoulder through the crowds towards you.

Slipping your coat down your arms and hanging that up, you shook your hair free of the windblown positions that it had been blown into, turning back to sweep your eyes over the hoards of people. You barely had a chance, before hands were finding your heels, pulling you forwards until you were sharing space with the man, breath shared, a shaky sigh released from him, before the gap was closed.

His mouth slanted across yours, warm and wet and eager, lips moving softly as he tries to tempt you to kiss him back, and you pressed back just as happily. Your hands sat on his sides, feeling him shake a little under your touch as you did, trembling at the connection as you finally saw each other again for the first time since the middle of the year, and he barely pulled back for breath, before he was kissing you deeply once again.

His fingertips were digging into the edge of your jaw, falling way lower and lower, until one was resting gently on your neck your pulse thrumming under his hand, as the other smoothed along your arm, dipping under to sit low enough to reach your waist. Giggling a little against his mouth as his fingertips tickled along your sides, he whined at the break in your exchanges, leaning in to press a series of shortened kisses to your lips until you were resting back from him, far enough for you to crack your eyes open and really take him in.

“Hi, Davie.”

“Really? ‘Hi, Davie.’ That’s all you have to say?” He repeated you, brows shooting up but a playful smile finding his lips as he pinched at your side enough to tickle you, a quiet yelp on your lips as you jerked, fixing him with a mock-glare that scarcely lasted longer than a second, before your arms were coming up to loop around his neck, allowing him to pull you in close again. “You have some explaining to do, ma’am.”

“Couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, could I?” He smiled, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, and your heart raced in his chest as you found yourself wrapped up in him once again, the feeling being sorely missed. Running your fingers through his hair gently, scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, he let out a familiar little rumble of complete contentment as you did. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t know until about a week ago, but I realised that if I pulled some all-nighters and grabbed a last-minute plane ticket, I could be here to see you.”

One of his hands rubbed along yours lightly, sealing around your wrist to bring your hand around close enough for him to press a kiss to your palm, before letting it fall back to his shoulder. “When do you stay until?”

“Right through to the New Year, baby.” His face lit up, a smile that still managed to make butterflies raise up in waves within you, despite a year having passed in your relationship now. “I cleared my schedule for you. You’re going to be getting a whole lot of me real soon.”

“I should hope so.” He whispered, before pulling you back in, puckering his lips to tell you what he wanted, and letting you be the one to close the gap this time. It was softer, and calmer, and much more loving. The first kiss; needy and frantic and simply a reassurance that you were there and not a figment of his imagination had slipped away, and was replaced within the both of you as something that was much more about passion and comfort.

It hurt you, to see so little of him, to know that he missed you just as much as you missed him, every time you had to cancel a date, or fell asleep too soon in differing timezones, or staggered conversations that took the whole day to have via texts, all becoming irrelevant as you found one another again.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, prodding slowly, and you grinned, feeling his own lips curve up against yours in response, but you only made him wait a moment, before you were parting them and allowing him access to lick into your mouth. Beat shared, noses bumping together as mouths slid together and connected with deep and loving exchanges, head twisting to the side as you tried to push yourself up even further into him.

His hands slipped a little lower, the both of you seeming to forget the world around you for a moment as your front pressed to his, hearts beating together in unison and thudding against one another’s chests. For a moment, it was a space in which only the two of you existed, nobody else mattering, before the tranquillity was shattered.

“(Y/N)!”

A loud squealing, high-pitched, drawn-out and overexcited. A voice he knew well and Dave pulled away with a startled shock, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing red in a way that was mirrored to your own as embarrassment flushed your system, in time to find sights on the younger girl in the glittery dress dashing towards you. You dropped down to take a knee just in time, before you were almost being knocked over, her arms wrapping around your neck and her face pressing into your neck as she all but screamed happily into your ears.

Standing back up with the little girl in your arms, her legs found a place either side of your body, sitting on your hip as she held on tightly, and you turned to face her older brother, an adoring look you recognised well was flashing on his features. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stella! We can have so much fun now that I’m back, though!”

“I got new toys!” She was still shouting, making Dave wince a little beside you, and you were sure your eardrum was ringing, but her apology as your boyfriend chastised her for her volume was enough to make your heart melt. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Why don’t you tell me over dinner? I’m a bit of a surprise to everyone, so I think I’ll be sitting at your table again.”

“Well, that seems fitting,” Dave mumbled, grinning at you when you rolled your eyes at him, and yet you still found yourself leaning into him when his hand found your lower back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and scoffing at the dramatic whining and groaning Stella let out at the simple affections. “It’ll be just like last year.”

“I am a sucker for tradition.” You joked, his eyes glinting slightly, and before either of you could say anything else, attention was being called by the tap of a microphone on stage, announcing to you all that it was time to take your seats. Letting Stella back down to the ground, she was bolting away with the intention of leading the way from the very second her toes hit the floor, and Dave was soon after catching your hand with his, squeezing tightly.

He let you lead the way, pulling him along slowly, and his mum gasped loudly as he approached the table behind you, a beam taking over your face at the excitement that the older woman displayed. She was over to you both in a flash, arms held wide before they were wrapping around you and pulling you into her embrace, your hand shaking away from Dave’s so that you could hold her back just as tightly.

You giggled, your eyes meeting his for a second as his mother squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side, before she was finally letting you go. She had released you, just long enough to pinch at one of your cheeks lightly, the other arm sitting on your shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Your mother said you couldn’t make it! We weren’t expecting you, darling. It is lovely to see you, though!”

“Well, I came back as a surprise, she had no idea until she got a call to pick me up from the airport this morning.” His mother’s face cracked out in a smile as she laughed with you, and you felt his fingers inching along your arm, smoothing over your palm before weaving with your own once again, lacing together, and you wrapped your own back in comfort and security to assure him.

“It’s a good thing you did, too! Dave has been moping about all week since finding out you couldn’t make it.” You grinned, turning to look at your boyfriend as his cheeks flared up with red, swallowing thickly and glaring at his mother.

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true, and you know it! You’ve been moody and sulking, pouting all around the house.” He only flushed further, and you leaned in, muffling your laughter by pressing your face into his shoulder, and feeling him sag a little underneath you, giving in, stomping his foot like a child as he whined.

“Mom, stop it!”

“I think it’s cute.” You finally managed to contain your giggles, wrapping your spare arm around his waist, his other hand coming up to rest on your arm and he huffed out as he gave up on the argument, no longer fighting the truth about it all. He had been moody and grouchy, not excited to see in the new year alone, but now you were here with him, and his whole world was lighting up once again. “I missed you, too.”

“You two are just the sweetest.” Your eyes widened, almost having forgotten that his mother was there, and he chuckled down at you, smirking a little now that you were just as embarrassed as he was. “Do you want us to shuffle all the chairs up? We can drag another seat over, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“Thanks, Mrs Hodgman, but that’s okay. I already promised Stella that I’d sit with her this year again, and I never break my promises.”

She only chucked, nodding her head, before you were leaning up to press a kiss to Dave’s cheek, grinning to yourself at the warmth of his skin as he flushed with shyness once again. “Okay, my dear, I’ll go and have a word with the kitchen and see if we can’t rustle up an extra plate for you.”

She walked past you both, wobbling a little on tall heels as her wine raced through her systems, and your boyfriend shook his head as he watched his mother go. He was tugging on your arm, and you looked up at him, following his footsteps over to the kitchen, and Stella was waiting patiently, her hands pressed down into two seats on either side of her own body, preserving them both as other kids began to fill in around the table, denying them the chairs each time, a toothy grin with a missing tooth flashing up as you both arrived.

“Scoot, Stell.” Dave tapped at the back of the left end chair as you took the right, and her head snapped up to him, chocolate brown curls the same shade as her older brother’s bouncing as she did.

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He looked utterly shocked, crushing down to her height, and she shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head at him.

“I want to sit in the middle! She’s my friend, too!” The younger girl insisted, and you couldn't hide your amusement as Dave gaped, eyes flickering up to you for support, before narrowing playfully when he realised he didn’t have it.

“Yeah, Dave. Stella’s my friend, too.”

He growled a little, the action more directed at you, a heatless warning, and his hand ruffled in his sister’s hair as he stood up, begrudgingly taking the other seat. He shuffled closer, until the edge of his chair was pressed up against hers, and his hand was reaching out to rest along the back of your chair, playing lightly with the strands of hair that he could reach, while your attention was turned to his sister. She was a whole year older, but just as adorable, and was already beginning to tell you all about her experience so far in second grade.

Her plate was placed down in front of her, and she paid no mind to it, the other children around the table receiving third as well, but she was far more focused on telling you all about the other kids that she’d met. You took charge, cutting up her food for you as you began to add into her stories, telling her all about your own experience in second grade.

“Y’know, Stell, I met your brother when I was in second grade.”

Her jaw dropped, turning to look back at Dave, who only nodded his head in confirmation, but seeming a little strained as he tried to remember that far back. “Really?”

“Really! He had just moved here, and you weren’t even born yet.” You poked at her sides, tickling her a little, and she broke out in a fit of childlike giggles, squirming slightly, pushing at your hands as she did. “He had two front teeth missing, and a buzzcut.”

Dave groaned behind the little girl, seeming to be patching it together now, a wicked glint on your face as you thought about even more details of the story. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands having been growing out over college, more than the short length that they had been when you’d reconnected with him last year, the strands sticking up a little over his head, messy and untamed, only making it worse the more he messed with it.

“He was in a superhero phase, and he came in wearing a different costume every day of the week.”

He let out a loud groan, but there was a smile hidden behind it, and you finished chopping up her food for her, placing the knife and fork down on the edges and pushing it back over to her, little hand picking up the shorter set of cutlery. The chair your boyfriend was sitting in scraped over the floor as he pushed away from the table, beginning to stand up and leaning over to press a kiss to his sister’s head as he passed her by, before coming to a stop before you.

The adult dishes were beginning to be bought out now that the kids all had their own, and he tipped his head in the direction of the bar, making you realise that neither of you had a drink. You’d been so caught up in the whirlwind excitement of surprising your boyfriend with your return that you’d completely neglected the scratching dryness in your throat, or the rumble in your stomach, lighting up a little bit at the thought.

You nodded your head, tipping your head into his hand when it came to rest over your cheek, leaning down enough to brush his lips against your own. It was barely a kiss, before a little hand was slamming down on the table beside you both, making you jump. “Gross!”

You couldn't help the laugh that you let out, head snapping back down to look at Stella as she glared at you both, your cheeks aching from the grin you held. “You don’t like kisses, Stell?”

“No!”

“Not even if I gave you some little kisses?” You leaned over, scoping her up and into your lap so that you could kiss the crown of her head, holding her to you tightly as you peppered the side of her face with little affections, her face growing red as she laughed and wriggled in your arms, barely an effort to escape at all as she cracked up. Just when she thought she’d made it and you let her go Dave caught her on the other side, pressing a kiss to his sister’s cheek, grinning wickedly as he walked away, and you watched her rub aggressively at both of her cheeks as she tried to wipe them clean.

When she deemed the task finished, she set off on her eating, pointedly moving across a seat to get away from you, dragging her plate over to the chair Dave had once sat in, sticking her tongue out at you as she went, and you only beamed, before she was diving into conversation with the other children.

A waiter leaned over, placing two larger plates down, one for you and one for your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he glanced around the table, before looking to you, and you shrugged, knowing how amusing it was that for now the second year in a row, you were sitting at the kid’s table, despite being in your second year of college, and they walked away with a chuckle.

Moments later, Dave was filling the chair once again, placing a glass down in front of you and raising his brows in silent question of approval as he did. A bubbling gin and tonic, a bottle of beer for him, and you lifted it up, taking a sniff of the contents inside, before taking a testing sip. A concoction of fruity flavours exploded within your mouth, a delicious mix, nodding your approval to him, and he grinned around the neck of his beer as he took a swig himself.

His gaze lingered on you, remaining while you ate, beginning your food, only ever leaving you for a few moments as he ate himself, or answered a question for his sister or one of the other kids, looking away momentarily to chop food or find his drink. It wasn’t an uncomfortable stare, and each time you caught his eyes throughout your conversation and the meal, you felt nothing but utterly loved and cherished.

So, in the pause between your dinner and your dessert, you turned to him, shifting in your seat enough to tangle your feet with his under the table, and his smile seemed to brighten even further.

“Are you trying to burn the image of me into your head, or something?”

“What do you mean?” He moved a little himself, facing you more, one hand smoothing over the tablecloth to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. You waited, and you could tell that he knew exactly what you meant, before shrugging a little, and finally tearing his eyes from you to look around the room. “I hate that we’re always so far from each other, and that this is the first time I’ve seen you in months because college got so busy. I love you, and I’m happy with how we’re doing, but it just..”

“Sucks?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, squeezing your hand back when you squeezed his first, and he watched as people came and went, your attention turning to the mingling folks around you too, and yet you were still entirely wrapped up in one another. “I’m patient, and I’m happy to wait, but sometimes I just feel like we’re being left behind. I mean, my mom and all the neighbours keep going on about the future. They’re all bugging me about when I’m going to move out, start growing up. Simon and Big-C have their own place, Jane just got married, even Aubrey is engaged and moving in with Ronnie.”

He was talking himself breathless, and despite the slightly angry tone to his voice, you knew how to read him, being able to tell that it was more stress than it was frustration, and you placed a hand over his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin gently to soothe him. Placing his hand over your own, and holding it there.

“Everybody just keeps acting like I have no plans, and that my life isn’t going anywhere, but when your future is half-way across the country for fifty percent of the year, it makes it harder to know where you’re going and what to do.”

His words made your heart flutter, and you choked back the cooing that you wanted to make, pulling him in closer to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

It was chaste, and delicate, and you sighed out happily against his mouth as the hand closed over your own simply tightened, lips melding in slow patterns that had your heart beating out of your chest, exploding with emotions, finally being with the man you loved once again. Dragging your hand from under his, you pushed it further around into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, a happy sound making itself known from the back of his throat, a rumble in his chest as he tipped his head further into your hold, and you let out a breath giggle as your lips broke apart, finding him relaxing more and more into your touch with each little scrape, knowing just how to comfort him after all this time.

“Don’t worry, Dave.” He only hummed, eyes fluttering shut as a content look washed over his features, head hanging back, now longer only supported by your hand to hold it up, and his body was sagging into the chair, like the actions you were taking had been a reset button for his entire body, stress clearing away. “You’re my future too. We will have plans, when we’re ready, we don’t have to rush for anyone. It’s me and you, and we can take out time.”

“Me and you?” He repeated, words a little slurred, and he jumped at the shock of a plate clanging down, the waitress apologising as the spoon clicked on the edge of the dish, before pudding a dessert down before you as well, and he forced himself to sit back up, to crack his eyes open and let your hand slip away to take your spoon. “You promise that?”

“Of course, I do. I love you.”

He nodded his head, pecking the tip of your nose as he shook himself off slightly to try and bring some life back to his body, and pulling your chair up and under the table properly.”I love you, too.”

“Good, because that tiramisu looks really good, so I’m kinda’ hoping you’ll share.”

He grinned, eyes flicking over the dish you had yourself, considering it all, before nodding his head. “Okay, but only because your pie looks good too, so we’re splitting them both.”

“Deal.”

Poking your spoon into the dish, you dragged it towards you a little, a disbelieving scoff on his lips as he caught his spoon against the other side, stopping you from taking it any further, and stabbing the cutlery into it hard enough to chime against the counter, before taking a large mouthful of it and bringing it up to eat.

You cringed through a laugh as he chewed loudly and unattractively, his spoon battling yours each time you tried to take a bite of the dessert. “Dave!”

“Hey, I said you could have some, but you have to earn it!”

“That’s how you want to play this?” He nodded, taking another bite of his, and you took the chance, dragging your spoon into it and pulling off a piece of the creamy treat, and he was quick to use his own to scrape it back into the dish. “That's no fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

He picked up the dropped chunk, watching as you pouted, eating it with a wide smile, and half of his tiramisu was already gone, and you gave a dramatic sigh. Instead, you pouted, deciding that if he wanted to play dirty then you would too, and you twisted away from him to face your own sweet, dragging a piece of the apple pie away from the pain crust, and lifting it up to your mouth.

He chuckled beside you, more than amused with his own antics, and you ignored him, letting out a little huff, and not responding to him when he cooed a little, and you tried some more of your pie, staring down into the dish as you pretended to be upset. “Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m only messing around with you. Here, you can have some now.”

He pushed the bowl closer to you, and you looked up at him again, pretending to study him for a moment, and he lifted up his spoon, holding it out to you with a large piece of tiramisu, the Italian delicacy calling out to you. Just as you leaned in to take it, he swerved it around, closing the mouthful between his one lips, and laughing around it as your jaw dropped in shock.

“I won’t fall for your fake sadness, I know when you’re really mad. Good try, though.”

You growled a little, biting at the inside of your cheek to contain your smile, before raising a brow, and dropping your act to deadpan at him. “Fine. War is war, don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“Sounds like a threat?”

“It is.”

It was just the two of you at the table now, the kids long since having finished their ice creams, sticky dishes and spoons left littered around the table as they’d all run off to play, and it was just the two of you left, the low lighting in the corner of the room, a smirk spread over your features as an idea came to mind.

Your hand landed on his thigh, leaning over to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling him shake a little under your hold as he laughed, bringing up the hand that was resting on the back of your chair to weave into your hair instead. His head twisted, lips brushing your ears, and hot breath washing over your neck as he curled back around you.

“Squeezing my thigh and kissing my jaw won’t work, I’m not the same shy kid I was when you first started using that trick.”

You only hummed, nipping a little at his earlobe, before lifting one leg to rest right over the top of one of his own, the blockade of your leg meaning you had enough space to slide your hand up higher. His breathing did hitch then, as your fingers pressed lightly to the crotch of his jeans, and you settled your head onto his shoulder. To anyone who may look over, it was simply a couple cuddling in the corner, young adults who’d missed each other enough to put aside the general rules of PDA for one night, and it would be okay.

Instead, you licked lightly at the base of his neck, a spot you knew made him weak, and your suspicions were confirmed when he trembled under your touch. “Who’s not playing fair now, huh?”

“It was you who made it a war, Dave.” He dropped his spoon, a loud clanging, and he was choking back a moan as you rubbed your palm down against his cock, feeling him twitch under your touch as he did, even through the layers of material. His hand came down, snatching at your wrist, and cursing under his breath as your actions refused to cease, barely suppressing a moan as he began to grow under your hand.

“Fucking hell, you’re evil.” He whispered, and you nipped lightly at that same spot again, hearing him whimper as you did, hips bucking up into your hand, fingers gripping your wrist even tighter as he tried to push you away, yet never trying to hurt you. “I give up, I give up. Fuck, if I cum in my pants at a Christmas party, you’re never driving my car again.”

“You surrender?”

Squeezing the bulge in his pants, you lifted your head, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bit down on his lower lip, turning his face towards yours and pressing your foreheads together to hide the expression on his face. “I surrender. Dessert is all yours.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

He wheezed out a relieved breath as you finally took your hand away, panting slightly as he came down, having been halfway to creaming himself at the age of twenty like some kind of horny freshman, and he looked mildly irritated when he finally managed to pull himself together. “That was low.”

You only grinned, taking his spoon and enjoying the final bite of his tiramisu, watching as his thumb came up to wipe the powdery dust it had been sprinkled with from the edge of your mouth, but a frown was still sitting on his features. “Hey, you’re the one who wouldn’t share. Besides, it wasn’t so low back in May when you stuck your hand up my skirt while we were playing pool at the bar, huh?”

His eyes flashed over for a second, remembering the moment clearly. He’d been losing, the two of you having snuck into one of the bars on campus and gotten a little tipsy, and after boasting just how good he was at the game, to be losing to you in his hazy state, and as you’d leaned over the table, he’d stood behind you, fingers pinching your clit roughly through your panties and making you fall forwards onto the table, a cry on your lips as you lost the game. It had led to some pretty amazing sex when you’d made it back to his flat, though.

“Besides, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” He mumbled, watching you switch between dishes once his was empty, his jaw hanging open as he waited for you to serve him up a piece of the apple pie. His hand came down to rest on your thigh, holding you close to him as the two of you happily shared out the foods, before falling into comfortable silence.

It was whispers about anything and everything you could think of, nothing too deep, simply making passing comments about what you’d been up to, small talk that would usually come along via your video call dates. His sister had come and gone, crawling up into your lap to sit with you for a while, more than happy to fill the silence as you asked her about what she and the other kids were up to, before she was running away again to chat with her friends.

The conversation went on, chatter about college, updates on all the extra work you’d been doing that had prevented either of you from being able to make any trips in the last few months, straining the long-distance relationship that you were already sharing. First-year had breezed by, being easy enough that since last Christmas, the two of you had made plenty of time to visit one another, meeting up halfway between or making the full trip for the weekend, but second-year had come down hard, and had been kicking your asses.

You moved yourself, his arm settling behind your chair so that your head could fall to his shoulder, one arm slung over his waist, and tiredness began to creep in. You could suppress it for a while at first, holding in your yawns, and being able to follow the stories he was spinning for you, updating you on everything that his friends - both college and at home - had been up to, soft laughs on your lips with each adventurous tale he shared.

Eventually, though, he had caught on, going quiet as he let you fall into a half daze, the hand behind your body moving to stroke over your shoulder, comforting and warm as he just held you there.

“You falling asleep on me, sweetheart?”

“No, no. I’m totally awake. I’m here to spend time with you.” Your words were a little mumbled from sleep.

“Yeah, sure you are.” He teased, jousting you on his shoulder, and you groaned, but sat up, shaking your head to clear it before blinking your eyes into the lights again, trying to readjust.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little tired.” He only nodded his head, watching as you stood up on shaky legs, and following behind you. “My parents are going to be here all night. I can just tell.” You glanced over at them, finding them sitting around one of the tables, chatting away happily with no signs of stopping any time soon, and Dave slipped an arm around you, directing you over to where his mother was and showing you that he was in the exact same boat. “Come get my coat with me?”

He nodded, following after you, and lifting it down to help you pull it up your arms, booking yourself a cab as he tied your scarf around your neck for you, making sure you were nice and cosy.

Another yawn was pulling at your lips, and the second it was finished, he was offering you a soft kiss, one that you barely had the energy to return as you began to slip closer to just passing out in your exhaustion. Time zones were a real bitch, you were getting the short end of the stick with jetlag, but it was all worth it.

“You know, I could come with you? We could stay at my place, tonight?”

“I should probably stay in my own bed for the first night back, don’t you think?”

The cold was enough to make you gasp loudly as you stepped into the night air, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than you had a moment ago as your breath clouded in the air, making you shiver, sticking your hands into your coat pockets as you moved down to the curb to wait for your taxi to arrive. Seeing headlights coming around the end of the road, you could barely make it out, but suspected it to be your vehicle, and you rocked up onto the tips of your toes to steal another kiss from him, his lips working against your own just as eagerly. Licking along his lower lip, he parted them for you with a soft moan, tongues tangling together, his hands finding your waist and pulling your body flush up to his own, keeping you close.

It was a kiss that was long overdue, finally getting a real moment alone together, nobody around, no crowds, just the two of you for the first time in months, and you were looking forwards to much more time with him like this over the holidays, and beyond it. One of the hands on your waist was now sliding up, tangling into your hair as his head tipped to the side, stealing deeper access to your mouth, before pulling away for breath only a moment later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place?”

“Tempting. Very tempting.” You mumbled, letting him lean in for further kisses as he laughed softly, the innuendo in his words not being missed but slipping way as irrelevant, and the squealing of tires pulling up only a few metres away told you that your assumptions had been correct, your taxi waiting patiently, phone buzzing in your pocket to confirm it.

“I could make you breakfast if you did.”

“How about you take me out for breakfast on Boxing Day morning? I’ll finish my unpacking and we’ll go for an early morning date.” He sighed, nodding his head and walking over to the car with you, reaching down to open the door.

“Fine, Boxing Day breakfast date it is. But only if you promise that it’s a lunch date and dinner date, too. I want you for the whole day.” He pulled it open, letting you step down from the sidewalk and settle into the seat, closing it and leaning against the open window as you smiled up at him.

“All-day date, you got it.”

“Call me tomorrow?” He questioned, not wanting to hold you up much longer as the driver waited, politely turning up the radio a little as the glass stayed closed, giving you both privacy.

“Of course, I have to wish my man a Happy Christmas, right?”

“It’s much happier now you’re home.” He leaned in, pecking your lips one final time, before stepping away from the car, and sticking his hands into his pockets, the car revving to life a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You nodded, blowing him a kiss and rolling the window back up, the car setting off on its journey.

This wasn’t like last year, where Dave had been waiting in unknowing anxiety as to whether he was even going to see you again. This year, he was filled with confidence, enjoying the part around himself instead of sulking in a corner, because this year, he was happy. You’d texted him a half-hour ago to tell him you were almost ready, and that you’d be on your way over soon, and he was anticipating the arrival of his girlfriend with joy.

He’d allowed his mother to introduce him to as many people as she wanted to, mingling and socialising as she willed him to, until finally, he’d been left along in peace to get a drink. He was now standing still staring down at his phone as he lurked near the dining table, the chairs dragged away into the living room and the wood pushed up to the wall, laid out with food and snacks, and just waiting for you.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt him jump, before your hands were connecting over his middle and he was dropping a hand down to cover yours. His other shifted around between you, tucking his phone into his pocket, before turning in your arms to take you in. Before he did, he leaned down, pressing a careful kiss to your lips as not to smudge the makeup you had done, a fresh layer of lipstick sitting on pouted lips, and he hummed happily as you squeezed yourself in a little closer to him.

“Missed you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, trying to kiss him through it and whining when he pulled back, but shaking his head, feeling mischief coarse through your veins. “You saw me yesterday. And the day before that, and before that, pretty much all week. Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“I’m never going to get sick of you, baby.” His hands found your cheeks, tipping you back a little bit as your smiles were pressed together, ruining what would have been a romantic kiss, but you couldn’t contain your joy, cheeks aching as you tried to straighten it. “You look pretty.”

His hands slipped down to find yours, holding you out before him and dropping one, lifting the other to twirl you around in the golden wrap dress that you were wearing, a low whistle on his lips, and he tugged a little at the belt around your waist, raising his brows as the material gaped open a little with your movements, exposing your thigh to him as the hem of the dress at around the middle of your calves.

“This is new.”

“I bought something special for the night, I wanted to feel good.” He grinned, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder, before placing both of his own on your waist, nibbling on his lip as he looked at you. “You scrub up pretty damn good yourself, Davie. All black suit, looking hot.”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you back in for another kiss, groaning as the song in the room changed. Your lips were just brushing his, before his mother was darting straight through the room, calling his name loudly, and he sighed, pulling back from you to look up and find his mother, who was trying to shoulder her way through the crowds towards him.

“This is your song, Dave!”

“It’s not my song, this is just a song you play every year and make me dance to because I danced to it once in a middle school play.” His mother took no notice, rolling her eyes and grabbing onto his arm, trying to drag him away. He gripped onto your hand, forcing you to follow him along, until you could see Stella, tearing up the dance floor with the sugar rush she was currently holding, an upbeat song playing over the speakers and vibrating through the floors.

The part was reaching its full mass, the place absolutely teeming with people, far more than should be able to fit into a house like this, even if the gardens were open too, despite the cold weather, and yet there was still a spot cleared on the dance floor for him. His mother had found a dance partner, Stella was dancing with two of her friends in a crazy trio, and Dave was holding his hand out to you, wiggling his brows as the song progressed on. He didn’t give you a chance to mull it over, taking your hand and pulling you into him, your chest crashing into his, before he was positioning you to be able to dance.

“This is the worst song in the world.” You teased, bodies around you moving just as fervently, and he nodded his head, before the lyrics were belting out of him, shouted at the top of his lungs, and you were giggling as he twirled you around. “I am not dancing to this.”

“You have to!” He insisted, still trying to get you to move with him, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other connected with your own, holding it up in a waltz style pose, despite the fact that you’d never be able to waltz to this kind of pop.

“Says who?” Your laughter broke out again as he dipped you backwards, spinning you around, your bodies bouncing a little as you moved to the beat, and you couldn't deny that it was catchy, your feet beginning to move along with his, and the smile on his face only widened as you did.

“Says the laws of being my girlfriend. You have to dance with me, always, even if you think I’m embarrassing you.”

He let out a loud cheer, just to draw attention to you both again, but the smile on his face made it worth it all as you danced with him again. Your inhibitions were slipping away, heart beating rapidly in your chest and laughs drowned over the sounds of the music as you twirled around the room, almost bumping into other people on the dance floor as they joined in. The heat was building, your cheeks flushing as his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, the song seeming to go on forever, and yet, you couldn't find it within yourself to care, because the moment felt perfect.

When the music finally ceased, you slumped against him, letting him catch you as the two of you panted, a few stray hairs sticking to your forehead for the exertion of the activity, and he laughed breathlessly, holding you up as the funky hip hop tunes continued on, the more tame songs would come along later in the night when only the adults were left, the kids still making the most of the evening.

Looping your arms around his neck, he smirked, hands finding your waist, as the two of you rocked slowly to the upbeat song that was playing, a smile finding your lips when his forehead came down to rest against your own. “So, later on, will you save me a real dance? When the slow songs are playing?”

“Who says I slow dance?”

“The laws of being my boyfriend.” He chuckled at your use of his words against him, before he was dipping down to press a kiss to your lips, sighs sounding from both of you at the chaste connection. “You’ll have to get used to slow dancing with me, Davie. As you said, all our friends are starting to grow up, getting engaged and throwing parties, and I’m going to want to slow dance.”

He nodded his head, spinning you out form his body and twirling you around, before he was bringing you back into his body, a smirk on his lips and mischief flashing across his eyes. “Who says you’re my date?”

“Oh, you got someone else?” You took the bait, gasping falsely as he grinned wider, a cocky look on his face as he held you once again, swaying you in his arms before dipping you backwards, lifting your thigh onto his hip for only moment, and when he pulled you back up, you were even closer than before.

“You know you’re my one and only, baby.”

You leaned up, mouths brushing together again. “Mhm, I better be.”

He closed the gap, teeth scraping over your lower lip at a more passionate connection, sucking on your lower lip slightly, enough to make you moan out a little under your breath,  and his hands tightened on your body. The dancing you were enjoying had become more like swaying, no longer focused on the movements of your feet or the tune of the music, but just on one another.

Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp lightly as his fingertips dug into your waist, all but burning through the material of your dress, making you feel like flames were consuming you from the inside out. You’d never felt this way with a guy before, Dave mad you feel cherished and loved, everything you always wanted, without ever having to ask, he was perfect for you. He accepted every flaw and rumple, and he never made you feel anything less than beautiful.

You wanted to live in this moment with him forever.

It was short-lived, unsurprisingly, before the two of you were being pulled apart once again to mingle, your mother wanting to introduce you to people and show you off, telling them all about your big university plans, and Dave being forced to help his mother host, the hours of the night passing by.

You were moved from group to group, the same questions being asked every single time, repeating the answers like a script you’d learned as you recited facts about your course, and told them what you liked, and what you thought would be improved on. You were asked about your college experience and the campus, and everything that the middle generation could possibly think of. You were sick of college, you were sick of being asked about how hard it was to be away from your family and friends, or whether it was liberating and gave you your freedom. You didn’t want anything but to enjoy being home, to hear about what you’d missed out in, instead of being interrogated about your life.

You managed to escape from the conversations, hiding away in the corner and letting out a sigh, eyes closing for a second as you tried to steal a moment to yourself, your phone buzzing in your bra from where you had stored it, no pockets or a bag, and just as you reached for it, there was a voice calling your name once again, and you wanted to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to stop a scream of frustration from leaving you.

A blonde head of hair was bobbing towards you, leaving the group within which her date was wowing a collection of the locals with his information on music and his up and coming cat-food album. Aubrey Miller, somebody you had formed a begrudging allegiance with over this last year, the girl constantly messaging you on Facebook, commenting on your Instagram posts and retweeting you, and so you’d simply accepted that she was going to be a part of your life. Besides, you never wanted to feel like the jealous ex, because you weren’t and you knew Dave loved you, but sometimes it irked you how she always seemed to be around at the most inconvenient of times.

Your phone buzzed again, but she was taking both of your hands in hers, squeezing tightly and laughing as though something had been said. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!”

“Yep, that’s right.” You managed to muster a somewhat enthusiastic tone, unsure of how you did it, but she seemed to breeze on over it, charging straight into her next topic. “How is life at college? It’s so far away!”

“Can we talk about something other than college? I’ve been talking about it all evening.”

She paused, chuckling for a second, before nodding her head. “Sure, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about my new place yet! I’m having a house warming party, and I wanted to invite you. Dave and his family will be there, of course.” You ground your teeth a little, smiling through it as she spoke on behalf of your boyfriend, but knowing that deep down you were just a little frazzled because of the night.

“Sounds fun, I’ll be there.”

“Great, it’s in just a few days, I can send you the details!” You only nodded and smiled, glancing around the room to try and catch sight of your lover, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Besides, it’ll be nice for you and Dave to have some more quality couple time together, I know how lonely he’s been feeling lately.”

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes snapping back to her own as your brows furrowed, narrowing a little as you looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, gosh, no.” Her eyes widened, shaking her head as she realised how her words had come out. “I know what that came out as, but I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I hear some things, and he said some stuff earlier tonight.”

“Like what?” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at her, insecurities beginning to creep in.

“Well, I’m the only one still around here, so I talk to the parents a lot. His mom is really proud of him, and of you. She loves you, she talks about you both every book club, but Dave just misses you a lot. He tells her, she spills it to us, that's all. She likes me, but only as a friend. She never liked me the way she likes you, like you’re her own daughter.” You smiled a little at that, warmth blossoming in your chest at the idea of being welcomed so wholly into his family. “I was talking to him earlier tonight, just before you arrived, his mom was grilling him about moving out and making moves, plans for his life, y’know?”

“Yeah, he told me about that.”

“Well, did he tell you the part where he just felt alone, because he never got to see you? I like you, I admire you, I really do, but Dave is my friend. I’m not still in love with him, I’m in love with Ronnie, but him and I went through a hard time and Dave was there for me during that time. I want to be there for him, too.” You were suspicious once again, somehow feeling like you weren’t going to like what was about to come from her. “It’s Christmas, and you’re here now, so clearly we’re on the same page, but I told him that I thought you should be here, because it’s the holidays. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I was just giving him the same real talk that he gave me when I couldn’t see the truth about Ronnie.”

“The truth? Are you trying to tell me that you told Dave you didn’t think I was good enough for him?”

“No, of course not! I just told him that I thought he should be thinking about why you couldn't be here, and whether you were growing too busy for him, and he should prepare himself before any more hurt came.” Your jaw clenched, and she cursed under her breath, seeming to realise that she still wasn’t getting her words right. “I’m messing this all up.”

“You think?”

She pursed her lips at your hissed out words, and you stiffened as you felt arms sliding around your waist, a chin hooking over your shoulder, and she excused herself, pointing over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowds, and you twisted around in the arms of the man who was holding you. “You haven’t been replying to my texts.”

“You feel alone?”

His face dropped, the smile disappearing, and eyes widening as he looked at you. “What?”

“You confessed to Aubrey and not me?” He looked panicked, freezing up before you, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to reassure him a little, not wanting him to bolt or get overly anxious. “You should tell me these things. I’m your girlfriend, if we’re having issues, I want to know about it.”

He held onto your hand, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, pressing kisses along them as he sighed. “We don’t have any issues at all, sweetheart. It’s just me being insecure and needy, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I just miss you a lot, but I know you’re busy.”

“I would make more time for you, though, if I knew you needed me.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be putting all your work aside, and you’d get more stressed than you already are, and I don’t want that.” Your heart warmed, watching him put your needs before his own, and you leaned up enough to bump your noses together. “I’m sorry, I just wish we had some more time together.”

“I know, but we will, okay? I promise, the future holds a lot of quality time for me and you.”

“It does?”

There was a hopeful tone to his voice that made your lower lip tremble a little, pressing a series of kisses to his lips that were for his assurance as well as your own, and he sighed happily at knowing you weren’t angry with him, kissing you back until you pulled away. “Wanna’ find a quieter? We can have some quality time.”

“Yeah?” He wiggled his brows a little, and you grinned, already knowing exactly where his mind had gone. “It’s loud in here. I keep getting pulled away to mingle. You know what I really want?”

“What do you want, honey?” You reached up, fingers smoothing through his hair, weaving through the strands as you tried to restyle the hair atop his head that was starting to flop back down into his forehead as the gel wore off.

“I just want to makeout with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve, like I should be able to. I’m young and horny, and my girl is hot, I don’t want to spend it away from her and socialising.” He huffed out the words, and you tried to cover up your laugh, raising your brows. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I’m remembering how we missed last year’s countdown, and your mom was furious about it, and she didn’t even know what we’d really done.” His lips parted a little as he remembered it, eyes glazing over as he went back to that moment, and his lips were beginning to curl up at the edges, pulling your body in a little closer to his own. “Stop that, I know where your mind is going.”

“You brought it up!”

“To prove to you that we have to stay here!” You laughed, and his hands ran a little further down your sides, pushing you closer to the wall, and your breathing hitched in your throat as his grip became tighter, body pressing into you as you were pushed up into the surface. “Dave..”

“We could be quick, back in time for the countdown. Nobody has to know.”

You shook your head, resistance beginning to fail as his nose nuzzled at the underside of your jaw, lips dragging over your skin teasingly, before he was pressing a soft kiss to the spot just below your ear that made you shake in his hold, your body betraying you as a tremor wracked along your body, making you arch up into him a little further.

“C’mon, kitten. You look so good tonight, and now you got me thinking about sex. What do you expect from me, when you’re here looking this good, and you’re all mine, huh?”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” You muttered, already preparing to cave in to his pleadings, before he was pinching at your ass roughly through your dress, snickering at the yelp you let out as he did, and he palmed roughly at the patch instead. As you released a little moan, his mouth closed over yours to silence you, a hot kiss as his tongue plunged into your mouth, tangling with your own without even a second’s hesitation.

You were putty in his hands, and you already know it. Clearly, he did too, because his hips were pushing into yours as he held you up to the wall, risking it all as people continued to wander around you, and it only took one o the more conservative neighbours or one of your parents to see for it all to be over, the two of you to be chastised like children again, taking you back to your youth, but you had absolutely no reservations when it came to him.

As you finally pulled back for breath, feeling his lips trace along your jaw, you nodded your head, giving in and telling him what he wanted to hear. “Okay, let’s go.”

He snapped up, lips a little swollen and eyes glossy, a look on his face that made your thighs clamp together and rub with need, and his gaze flickered down as he caught onto the action. Taking your hand in his, he dragged you away, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he heard you giggle, before making his way to the staircase. He went ahead of you, your feet barely having touched halfway up the set, before your eyes were closing in on the hoards of people upstairs, too.

It was twice as busy as it had been last year, the two of you having been able to sneak away to the empty upstairs, but even the corridors outside of his bedroom were busy, and as you finally pushed through the people to open the door, finding his bed piled high with coats, bags and purses.

“Of course.” He mumbled, practically hearing his mother’s voice yelling at him again for disappearing, a little task clearly done on purpose to ensure the two of you had nowhere to sneak off to this time, but he wasn’t giving up so easily. “Basement?”

You nodded, falling into step beside him, and chasing after him, adrenaline and excitement racing through your veins. There was always the risk of getting caught, there was last time too, but this was something else. Last time, you didn’t know what would come of it, it could've been a one-time thing, and so this one was all new kinds of thrilling. A year into your relationship, and you were making up for all the time that you had lost, searching for new excitement as you celebrated the time that had passed together.

As your fingers hooked onto the door to the stairs leading down, the light was already on, your stomach sinking, and the further down you went, the more kids you already found hanging out down there, a game of twister in play as thirteen year old girls all squealed and giggled, eyes wide as they stared at you while trying to balance.

You both mumbled your apologies for interrupting, backing your way out, and there was a pout on his lips as you returned to the main party. Leaning up, your body slumped into his, large hands smoothing over your back, before you were teasing the lobe of his ear with your teeth, a shudder rolling over his body as you did. “Don’t you have a treehouse?”

“Only if I can climb up the ladder behind you.”

“You’re going to get to see what’s up my skirt anyway.” You scoffed, and he only winked, the two of you stumbling out into the back garden dirty little jokes and exchanges as you poured out of the back door. There were considerably fewer people milling around the garden, the cooler temperatures making people prefer the indoors, and as you approached the treehouse, a muffled set of giggles caught your attention from the top of the ladder as you stood at the bottom.

An incredulous look flashed over your features at the idea that someone might have actually already beat you to that spot, and Dave groaned in frustration, kicking at the wood before him, and the ladder trampled a little from the force. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

He turned to look at you, frustration flicking across his face as disappointment set in, your shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, not sure what else to say, and the two of you began to trudge back inside. The backdoor way was blocked as you approached it, Dave’s hands clenching by his sides as he navigated you around to the side of the house, using the spare key to open the garage door, and knowing that there was a lock to the main kitchen from inside of it.

Sealing it up behind yourselves and replacing the hidden key, he navigated himself between his car and his mom’s, parked at alternating angles toward the kitchen, and an idea flashed through your mind.

“Dave!”

“Yeah?” His hand was sitting on the handle to the kitchen, ready to flick the lock on it open, light spilling out from the crack under the door.

“We’re alone.” He paused, and your arms motioned out around yourself, the chill of the room quickly making your hands clamp back up at your sides, and he seemed excited for just a second, before shivering himself.

“It’s freezing, and there’s nowhere to lay down.”

“Come over here and warm me up, then.” You smirked, leaning against the edge of his car next to the front, and his face lit up, hopping back down the steps towards you. Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you into his arms for just a second, before the cold metal of the car’s hood was pressing into you, making you gasp at the chill, his body taking place between your parted thighs.

It all became irrelevant, though, when his mouth collided with yours, slamming together with heated intensity, and all of that burning passion came rushing back. Hands were burning on your thighs, bringing your legs around to wrap at his waist, the material of your dress falling aside as the wrapped material fell open, rough palms dragging over the smooth skin.

One hand was sitting on his face, feeling his jaw moved under your own, sharp and smooth from where he’d freshly shaven, rough kisses making your lips sting as you pressed back with an equal kind of love, your other hands tingling in his hair. Your lungs were burning for oxygen, your head spinning the longer you prolonged the inevitable. Finally pulling back for breath, you dragged your mouth along his jaw, feeling the moan that rumbled up in his throat as you licked your way along the column, his pulse pounding beneath the skin as you kissed across that same spot.

He tipped his head back, letting you work longer, and when your lips came to meet the collar of the same dress shirt he wore, your hands slipped down to his shoulders, to his chest, nails scratching at the muscles underneath loft and he puffed up into your hold, before your fingers were finding the buttons.

“I love it when you wear smart shirts.” You mumbled, each space of skin exposed as you undid his shirt being pressed with a kiss from your lips, faint marks of your lipstick being left over his skin the lower you went, until you were untucking it from the belt around his waist, and leaving it to hand open. Goosebumps travelled over his skin when your nails scraped across the lightly defined muscles of his abs, red marks being left in your traces as you did, your fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He mumbled, fingers playing with the belt around your waist, the sequinned design making it harder for him to find the catch, but when it fell loose, he was quick to let it drop away to the floor, discarded as you pulled his belt free from his jeans. “You’re telling me that all that’s holding this whole dress shut is two buttons?”

His eyes were wide, nimble fingers undoing the button on the outside, and pushed the base of the dress open a little more, a smirk forming on his lips, before looking up to catch your eyes.

“Wearing my favourite panties, too, huh?”

“Not the matching bra, though.” Your words were whispered, a hoarse voice, and he licked over dried lips, before popping the final button and letting the material expose you to him fully. He hummed happily, two hands smoothing across your stomach, pushing you down until the cold metal of the car until you were laying back across it, large palms cupping at your tits and squeezing roughly.

You couldn't help the way you pushed up into his hands, a loud moan falling from you, and he shushed you quietly, bending at the waist to press a wet kiss to the spot just under your ribs, licking at the spot teasingly as he worked his way down and around your navel. “Keep quiet, baby, we don’t want anyone to come in here and see you with your legs wrapped around my head, do we?”

A single finger ran under the crotch of your panties, knuckle brushing over your clit, and you bit down on your lip to contain the whimper that such a feeling aroused within you, your hips bucking against his hand. He pulled back, snapping the edge of the lace garment against your folds, chuckling at the gasp you made when he did, before he was pushing them to the side. Holding them or of the way, dragging a finger across your slit, a happy sound produced from him as slick coated the tip of the digit, swirling with a filthy sound bouncing around the two of you as he did, sinking a single finger into your walls.

“So wet for me. I love getting this reaction out of you. What got you all worked up tonight, hm?” He was sinking further down, nipping along the indies of your trembling thighs, and despite the cold metal you were laying along, you were already burning up from the inside out, eagerly awaiting the moment in which his mouth would reach the place that you wanted it the most. “Was it the dancing? Or the outfit? Tell me what made you like this.”

He pumped the finger slowly, and your hands formed fists, nails digging into your skin as you found your first orgasm beginning to build rapidly within your stomach, guts winding up into a tightening coil and you tried to catch your breath just to be able to reply. “You did.”

“Mhm, I know that, but what specifically?” He pushed, dragging his tongue slowly over your centre, and you let out a loud cry, cutting it off halfway through by covering your mouth with your hand, eyes rolling back in your head as the pad of his tongue dragged slowly across your clit, electricity sparking across your body. “You can have what you want as soon as you use your words, kitten.”

“You did! Just you, nothing special. I just love you, you drive me crazy.” Your words were slurred and rushed out, but he paused for a second, his finger no longer pumping but instead curling within you, pad searching along your walls until he found the spot he was looking for, your entire body jerking at the stimulation with you.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dave, please! You know how I feel about you, stop teasing me now.” He nodded, pressing down once more on the patch within you that made you cry out, before he was pulling back, sinking to his knees entirely and giving you exactly what you wanted. A hot and wet mouth closed over your folds, tongue parting them and licking at everything that had already built up, teasing around your entrance as he slurped up what you had to give. Teeth dragged across your clit, enough of a sting to make you cry out into the cover of your hand, your eyes rolling in your head hips bucking up into his face, and he was more than happy to allow it.

Easing your thighs up onto his shoulders so he could move deeper, your legs clamping around his head with every motion he made, every shake of his head as he worked at your centre, lips sealing around the throbbing button nestled between your thighs to focus on the pleasure it brought you. Dave was skilled with his mouth, he’d known what he was doing since the very first time he’d gone down on you, but basic skills had become honed to your body, being able to read you, everything he did bringing you closer and closer to melting bliss.

Tears lined your eyes, squeezing shut to contain them as the simulations all became too much, and your other hand came down to thread into his hair, pulling roughly, your words muffled by the hand covering your mouth, and it became your only way of communicating with him. Fingertips were digging into the muscle of your thighs, holding you still as he dove into you, again and again, tongue lapping at every drop that came from you.

His tongue was plunging in and out of you, fucking you against the wet article as your keened up and into his hold, writhing against the hood of the car, speech becoming completely incomprehensible. Dave was by no means boring in bed, but there was always something exciting about the idea of fucking right when there was someone on the other side of a door, and right now there was a wheel party that might hear you scream Dave’s name, because as his tongue traced at your walls, lips and teeth teasing over your clit, alternating between where he wanted to please you the most, your arm was growing heavier and heavier, your climax teetering on the edge.

He knew it too, reading you like a book, pulling away and prying your legs from around his head before he was grabbing a hold of you and pulling you up to stand. Your legs buckled underneath you, almost falling away to the floor if it wasn't for his hands supporting you, a dark chuckle was sounding in your ear, a wet kiss placed to your cheek, before he was turning you around. Your hands pressed to the car, using it for support as he pressed up behind you, fingers dipping down and under the waistband of your panties.

He wasted no time, two fingers plunging into your already stretched out core, and just as a loud cry of his name left you, his other hand was skating up, over your throat, making your breathing hitch, before he was tipping your head back onto his shoulder. A thumb slipped into your mouth, and you sucked onto it, using the digits to muffle yourself as two fingers began to slam in and out of you.

It was oddly reminiscent, the amusement of the thought flashing across your mind for a split second, about just how comparative this was to New Years last year. Dave standing behind you, hand in your panties and cock straining into your ass as he prepared to fuck you senseless, except this time it wasn’t just lust, but love too.

As your peak came crashing over you, your eyes were rolling back in your head, shaking in his arms as he held you tightly, your underwear becoming far too uncomfortable as your juices slicked up his fingers, ruining the material as he kept going to rid you through it, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sensitive walls, the heel of his hand brushing over the swollen bud that fireworks explode within you.

When you finally couldn't take it anymore, he let you go, slumping down in an undignified manner across the hood of the car. Your dress was half hanging off of you, and you shucked the material down your arms and to the floor, feeling like you were burning alive in it now, skin covered with a thin layer of sweat from the heat building between you both, and your thighs were still twitching a little.

A hand came down roughly on your ass, and you jerked at the feeling, hissing out a curse to your boyfriend, and he didn’t reply, a more than proud and cocky look on his face as he palmed at the stinging skin.  

“We have two options.” He knelt down, fingers hooking into your panties, pulling them roughly down your thighs, until you could step out of them, and he pressed kisses all the way back up along your skin, until he was standing again. “Option one, I can fuck you over the hood, but you gotta’ keep quiet.” He pinched at your ass cheek, the one he’d laid a spank to, and you moaned, pushing back into his touch.

“And the other option?”

“Option two, you can ride me in the front seat, and scream as loud as you want.” You whimpered, managing to find enough strength to turn around to face him, fingers hooking into his belt loops and stand up a little further.

“I like option two.” You whispered your response against his mouth, lips brushing together, and he could only nod, tongue flicking out to lick at your mouth a little, spreading the taste of you to your own lips until it was smeared there. He reached behind you, pressing up to you until you fell backwards, and he opened the door, stepping away from you with a wide smirk and half-lidded eyes.

Tugging open the front of his jeans, the zipper grated angrily as it came undone, and he palmed at himself through the thick material, thumbs hooking into the waistband to push both the denim and the cotton of his underwear beneath it down, a dripping and flushed red cock springing up, slapping against his stomach and leaking with shining precum, bobbing in the cool air, a sight that made you legs clench together tightly.

Collapsing down into the passenger seat, he patted at his thighs, tempting you forwards while rummaging through the dash box, finding one of the emergency condoms that the two of you kept hidden in his car at all times, and tearing the little packet open as you settled across his lap, cramped into the chair. As he rolled the rubber along his length, pumping himself slowly, and you cranked back the lever on the seat to push it backwards.

As he laid down you were granted more pace, hair falling around the pair of you like curtains, hiding the meshing of your lips as your hands found a home on either side of his shoulders to support the weight of you above him. His hands were on your hips as you sank down, rolling yourself along his length, the head of his cock dragging through your folds and pushing with a delicious friction against your button every single time.

Finally, when the tension became too much, he shifted, hips bucking up and into you, the head of his cock sinking within your walls, and he reached one hand out to find the car door, pulling on it and slamming it shut, before bucking his hips up the rest of the way inside of you. Your arms trembled, almost dropping you down onto him as the pressure of his cock within you stretched you to your limits, filling you up perfectly just as he did every single time, his name spilling from you in a drawn-out whine as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“That’s right, baby, call my name. Tell the world who makes you feel this good.”

“Dave!” He leaned in, sitting you up a little in his lap and helping you start to make rhythms with your hips, lips closing around one perky nipple. Your fingernails were dragging marks into the pale flesh of his shoulders as you held on for dear life, his mouth working over your chest with the same vigour and determined enthusiasm that he’d used to assault your core. “Fuck, Dave!”

The head of his cock was pressing up to that spot within you that made everything go fuzzy, the world melting away until it was just the two of you left. As you grew more in your confidence, the simple circling and rocking of your hips became more, you became bold enough to lift yourself up, slamming yourself back down onto him, and he switched to your other breast, equal treatment being shared across your body.

“Oh, my God. You’re so fucking good..” Your words were whined out, and you couldn't wait for the morning, when you’d wake up with that ache between your legs, body littered with fading bites and bruises made out of love, and he was beginning to thrust his hips up a little into you. For every movement that he made to meet you, another fizz of electricity and excitement raced through your veins, another moment here your entire body lit up with sunshine and fireworks just for him, because he took you to heights of pleasure that you’d never before experienced.

“Louder, kitten. Scream louder for me, like I know you can.”

He licked over the pad of his thumb, slipping the hand between your bodies, and pressing down roughly on the already overstimulated bud that was throbbing and desperate for attention with every brush across the hair-smattered skin at the base of his cock. “Dave!”

“Louder!”

Two fingers pinched at your clit, and your head was thrown back, eyes welling with tears at the joy of pain that made you unravel once again, nails ripping marks into his skin as you quivered on top of him, his name leaving your lips in a loud scream like a mantra. The windows were fogging up, the heat becoming unbearable around you both, and yet it still felt perfect, the two of you boiling in hell as you roasted within the weight of your sins; filthy and reckless, utterly debaucherous as you stole yet another chink of one another’s innocence with each dirty act.

You couldn't help it, the need that washed over you, the easy way that every time you were with him felt addictive never wanting to pull away, no matter how spent you became, because chasing a high with home was just too good to pass up on.

Your forehead pressed to his, skin slick and sliding together with sweat, and you slammed yourself back onto him, riding him for everything that you were worth, and from the way he was beginning to shake and quiver underneath you, you could tell that he was nearing a peak that would make his eyes roll back in his head the same way yours did.

“Always so damn tight, so good for me. Perfect, baby, all mine.” He was babbling, the same way he always did when he was nearing his climax, and your walls were fluttering around him, never once taking a break, chasing up both of you final crashing downs. You felt like you’d been electrified, and he planted his feet on the floor, arms circling your waist to pull you down until your legs were folded against the chair, chests pressed together, and he could buck up without restraint into you.

You were boneless, feeling like you’d become nothing but jelly, your throat raw as you cried out his name, eyes crossing at the feeling of how deep he could reach within you, and all that you could hear was the sounds he made, low growls and grunts, cracking voice as he moaned your name and a slew of praises, and your heart beating in your ears.

Your blood was rushing, heart threatening to explode entirely for you both, racing and banging against your ribs.

“Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” You whispered, unable to muster up anything else, and as you came undone for the final time, the clenching of your walls dragged him along with you. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, only dragging out the feelings you were experiencing, and you felt as though you’d blacked out for a moment as your vision spotted, everything within you going numb, except for all the places where you were joined to him, hands on your waist and cock buried inside of you.

“Yes, kitten, fucking hell!”

“I know!” You squeaked, the aftermath of your orgasm making you twitch and clench around him, and he groaned, squirming at the overstimulation and lifting you off of him, pacing you down into the driver’s seat.

The windows were fogged up, marks streaked across the glass as you wiped them clear, and you reached across, opening one of the doors and sighing happily at the cool breeze that swept across your body. There was a chafing sting along the backs of your thighs from the denim that was still bunched tightly around his upper legs, and he cringed as he peeled back the condom that was still wrapped around his softening cock.

You tried to move, tingling sensations spreading the whole length to the tips of your fingers and toes as you tried to wiggle some kind of feeling back into them, sitting up a little as you made attempts to regain control of your body, and your elbow recessed into the horn, a scratch sounding from you as it sounded out loudly. Your boyfriend jumped too, loud barks of laughter leaving him as you did, and you almost joined him, before panic was washing over you both, heads snapping over to the garage door that connected to the kitchen, fear making your blood turn to icy cement in your veins.

When nobody came through, he turned to shoot out a mock glare, slapping at your thigh lightly. Lifting his hips up awkwardly, he managed to tug his jeans back up, searching around for his shirt and finding it discarded on the floor, unaware of when he’d even taken it off, but finding it messed up alongside the various garments that you had been wearing too.

“Think we should go back?”

“Probably.” He sighed, leaning over the centre console for a kiss, lips puckered and a hand landing on your cheek to pull your mouth down to his, delicate and sweet as he made the most of the final moments.

When you felt like you might be able to stand up without falling, you removed yourself from the car, the temperatures having dropped as you came down, and the chill of the crisp December air was making goosebumps rise through your skin. He was messing with his belt when you finally had your panties back on, your dress on your arms but hanging open, the same way his shirt was, and he closed up the car doors, chuckling at the way you wobbled as you buttoned your dress back up.

His hands found your hips, mouth coming back to claim your own, smeared lipstick making his pale skin stand out even more, and you giggling against his mouth, the rubbing of his thumbs through your dress was soothing and relaxing, bringing you back down to earth from the cloud nine that he’d taken you to, and you did up the buttons along the front of his shirt, trying to get them right without looking, but in your haze, the task was too hard, and you dragged your lips from his kiss to be able to check the task.

He smoothed down your hair for you, grinning at the messed up state that it had become, and you ran a finger around the edges of your lips to clear away the smeared lipstick that was now just a mess on both of your mouths, and you were glad that it had already begun to fade somewhat before this had all taken place.

He licked at his own lips, making sure the colour you’d printed onto him was gone, and when you finally judged yourselves to be appropriate again, or as appropriate as you were going to get, he opened the door for you both to reenter the house. The kitchen was warmer, and while you’d adjusted to the difference in temperature while Dave’s body had been pressed up to your own to keep you warm, you were glad to be back into the heated room. The doors were all closed now, the crowds having thinned, parents with younger children or older parents leaving, and yet there were still enough people that you managed to slip back into the party without being noticed as absent.

“See? Fifteen minutes ‘til the countdown. We’re just in time.”

Champagne flutes had been laid out along the island in the kitchen, all filled up perfectly, and Dave had two in his hands, passing one over to you, and you clinked them together, fingers weaving and palms pressed or one another’s as you walked into the rest of the house. The music had quietened, and the television had been turned on, the countdown displayed prominently on the screen as the final few minutes began to tick down, and Dave’s mother was making the rounds with a bottle of champagne to top up the glasses of anybody who needed it, always laying the perfect hostess.

Taking a small sip of the liquid in your glass, you winced slightly, but swallowing it anyway. It wasn’t your drink of choice, and you weren’t particularly keen on it, but since the two of you were not only celebrating the new year, but celebrating your anniversary, you were indulging in something a little classier. Dave’s hand was sitting low on your waist, letting you curl into his side, the night plodding on, and Stella and her friends were sprawled out on the couch, all looking absolutely exhausted, trying their very vest to keep their eyes open for long enough to see the countdown.

Now that it wasn’t as busy, you could see the extent of the mess left by the party, food trays and empty platters stacked high on the dining table, plastic cups and paper plates all over the room, both floors and surfaces, and there was enough leftover food and crumbs that it would probably fill a bag all on its own. Party poppers had been set off by the younger children before their parents had taken them home, leaving confetti and streamers on the floor, among the shredded remains of popped balloons and lost belongings. It was a catastrophe, and yet somewhere within yourself, you still couldn't wait until it is you hosting the party, getting to play that role.

A squeeze at your side brought you back to reality, dragging you from your thoughts, and you looked up to your boyfriend, finding him nodding his head towards the television, just as the timer clicked over onto one minute left, everybody beginning to crowd into the room just to see the screen, and you once again found yourself surrounded on all sides.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, baby?”

You thought about it, unsure yourself as to what it actually was, nibbling on your lower lip a little, before letting out a sigh. “I suppose it would just be to complete this school year to the best of my ability, and to start journaling, because I keep wanting to do that and never get around to it.” He chuckled at the addition, watching as you pouted to yourself for only a moment, before you were turning your attention back to him. “What about you?”

“Same as every year; just to make every moment count. To make good memories.”

You giggled a little, a countdown beginning to start around you as the numbers on the clock hit twenty, and you rolled your eyes slightly, coming to stand before him more clearly. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe, but it’s worked out pretty well for me so far.” His nose bumped against your own, and as the final countdown hit, your eyes were fluttering shut, whispering the figures as they dropped lower and lower, sinking into that same bubble that consisted of only you and he, until his lips were pressing to yours with the number one, a warm and loving kiss, his arm squeezing around you even more tightly than it had been and pulling you up into his chest, your free hand resting over his jaw, thumb stroking lightly across his skin, before settling to sit just behind his ear.

There was loud cheering, shuffling and celebrating, your bodies being jostled as hands landed on your shoulders in pats of congratulations and celebrations, but you paid them no mind, instead simply being focused on the way that it felt to kiss the man you loved as the year clicked over, welcoming you both into your second year of being in a relationship, and being in love.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed an equally adoring kiss to your cheek, and you could feel his smile pressed against you, the last scents of his fading cologne washing over you as you were shifted into a hug, feeling his cheek pressing against your temple. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Davie.”

You knew that you should call your parents and wish them the same, and that you should begin to acknowledge all the friends and family that were surrounding you, but for one more selfish moment, you wanted to absorb the time you had with him. When he pulled back, it was to clink your glasses together, one eye dropping in a cheeky wink, before the pair of you were downing what was within your glasses, trying to school the appalled looks on your faces as the taste trickled down your throats, fizzing and making itself known, before it as finally gone.

“Go and find your mom and your sister, I’ll call my parents, and I’ll find you afterwards.”

He only nodded his head, a final peck pressed to your lips, before he was disappearing through the crowds to find them.

You managed to find a quiet corner, pulling out your phone and calling your mother to wish both her and your father a happy New Year, and listening to them talk all about how they’d spent their own evening, bickering playfully about the movie they’d watched and the conversations they’d had, before bidding you a goodnight and telling you to use the spare key to let yourself in, as they’d locked the door, and were on their way to bed.

It was almost fickle how quickly the masses began to clear away. Once they’d had their midnight celebrations and welcomed in the turn of the year, they were already all beginning to leave, cars along the street roaring to life and taxis being called to ferry the more drunken patrons to their addresses, and the people around you were beginning to dwindle.

It wasn’t all that hard to find your love, his height and hair giving him away, messy locks standing out in the crowns of middle-aged neighbourhood women that had gathered around him and his little sister to coo at them and wish them the best, his face flushed a little pink as his eyes finally connected with your own, a look in them that screamed for help.

You hesitated, allowing him to be fussed over for a moment later, before finally, you took pity on him, moving in towards the group and taking the hand that he had outstretched for you. The neighbours didn’t like you nearly as much as they liked him, because he was the ‘handsome young man’ that they wanted to set up with their nieces and grand-daughters, but you were just the polite young lady who had taken that chance away. They favoured Dave greatly, and you weren’t surprised at all, because you favoured him too.

He was honest, well-mannered, funny, and a real sweetheart. His fingers laced with yours, letting you pull him away from the groups, and he followed after you, feet kicking through discarded rubbish on the ground. A yawn was pulling at your lips, and you covered it with your hand, trying to shake your head clear as tiredness crept in.

“Do you want a lift home?”

“I’ll call a cab, you’re just as tired as I am.” You mumbled, and he nodded his head, leaning down to be able to press his forehead to yours as your eyes fluttered shut. “Let me go and grab some bags, and we’ll start getting this place tidied up a bit.”

“Leave it ‘til the morning.” He grumbled, hands locking on your hips to hold you steady, and you laughed softly into the space between you both.

“You’ll hate it in the morning if you do.” You took his hands, stepping away backwards, and pulling him along behind you as you tugged him into the kitchen, leaving him to lean against the counter while you found a couple of new bin bags, and pressed on into his hands. “If you clean up the whole kitchen while I do the living room, the next time we go out to eat, I’ll let you choose where we go.”

“That is a backhanded deal, because you know that you’ll complain and we’ll still go to your place.”

You shrugged, a cheeky grin on your face as you pecked his lips swiftly, barely giving him a chance to reply. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for loving me.”

“Oh, that’s what I get, huh?” He mocked, grinning as you walked away, and beginning to focus on the kitchen-connected-dining room, sweeping trash into the bag, and you made your way through to the main room. Dave’s mother was bidding farewell to the last of her guests, and Stella was fast asleep on the couch, curled up in her favourite party dress and what seemed to be every single sparkly necklace she owned.

When the door finally closed, you heard the relieved sigh that Dave’s mother let out, and you chuckled, turning to face her upon clearing the top of the television cabinet, no more plastic cups, plates and waste to go into it, and she grinned through her exhaustion as she saw you.

“You shouldn't be doing that, darling, that’s my job.”

“It’s no trouble. I even managed to wrangle Dave into doing the kitchen.” You teased, and she looked completely shocked just at the thought, before you were sharing tired laughs.

She held the bag open, and you grabbed every piece of litter you could find, and you were certain that while the room might look clear now, it would probably be littered with missed pieces of crap in the morning, when fresh eyes after a goodnight’s sleep were cast over it, but you were sure that the Hodgman’s would be able to handle it, especially with the head-start that you were giving them.

With the two of you working together, you managed to clear the halls and closets too, leaving everything empty as far as you could, by the time Dave came to collect the bags, and take them outside to the trash cans. Taking another one, you began to clear upstairs, finding it much tidier than it had been downstairs, only one bag’s worth of rubbish to be thrown out, and you took this one yourself, Dave trying to cover his tiredness as he swept the floors, glitter and confetti cleared from the solid oak floorboards until they were visible once again.

Stella managed to sleep through it all, drooling onto a pillow as she lay half-propped up, and your heart beat just for the sweet little girl, loving her as much as you’d love a little sister. Taking out the last of the litter, the bins were overflowing, the old year being ushered out by plastic and bottle, and you tried to shove it down, dusting off your hands when you finally made all the bags fit. The streetlights were yellowed and dull, making you realise just how late it had gotten and how tired you really were, the stars twinkling overhead and lulling you back into the sleepy haze you’d left behind to clean.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed at your skin, trying to warm back up as you wandered up to the house, letting yourself in and leaning back against the door as you let out a deep sigh. Dave was making his way up the stairs, carrying his snoozing baby sister, and you watched him go, until he was disappearing from your view along the corridor.

“You okay, sweetie?’

You jumped a little, snapping over to look at his mother, who was watching fondly from the doorway, a nostalgic look on her face as her hands sat on her hips, and you shrugged a little. “Just tired. Thank you for a lovely evening, Mrs Hodgman. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

She scoffed, waxing a hand as she made her way towards you, and leaning behind you to flick the locks on the door, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re never a bother. You’re welcome to stay, and Dave can get you all sorted out.”

“Well, I can take the couch and just sl-”

“Oh, honey, I’m a mom, not a nun. You’ve been dating my son for a year now, I’m certain you and my son have shared a bed before, so sharing a bed won’t be an issue tonight.” Your face flared up with heat and you gaped at her, watching as she flicked off the remaining lights around the both of you. “You can stay over, I’ve already left your parents a message to explain. There’s no way I could possibly send you home at this time of night and feel at all like a responsible mother.”

She was walking up the stairs ahead of you, leaving you to stand alone in the darkness with heated cheeks and amused embarrassment coursing through your veins. Following her up the stairs, she slipped into her own bedroom, wishing you a goodnight before the door was clicking shut, and Dave was backing out of his younger sister’s room and turning off the light. He jumped a little as he found you sitting on his bed when he turned around, eyebrows shooting up a little, and he stepped into his bedroom, a softening tired look on his features.

“I think your mom just gave me a version of ‘the talk’.”

“She did what?” He was equally mortified and amused, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the corner of the room, a hand closing behind his head to tug the material up and over his head, dropping it into the laundry bin in the corner.

“She said she knows we ‘share a bed’, and so tonight we can share a bed.” He snorted a laugh at your words, undoing the belt around his waist and leaving it abandoned on his desk, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

“That means you’re staying the night?”

“Yes, it does. You’d better find your best pair of sweats and a t-shirt for me.” He tapped at his drawers, undoing the button and zipper on his belt to be able to push them away down his legs, the denim pooling at his ankles, and your gaze followed them, a smirk on your face as he almost tripped over them while trying to get them off.

“You know where my clothes are, get them yourself.” He had a cocky look on his face, pulling a pyjama top on alongside his boxers and disappearing into the bathroom to clean his teeth.

It was a true statement, you knew exactly where all of his clothes lay, and you folded yours neatly to rest on his desk, finding a pair of sweats that hung baggy around your ankles and a t-shirt of his to wear, before allowing him into the bathroom. His hip bumped against yours, brush hanging from his mouth as he winked at you in the mirror, pulling a face a moment after, and almost making you gag on the mouthwash you had, chuckling to himself as you spat it away and cursed at him under your breath, and hot tap coming on.

He left you alone to remove your makeup, already curled up in bed with the covers pulled back when you entered the room, door closing behind you and light being flicked off, using memory alone to guide you to where you knew he to be laying.

When you were all tucked in around him, feeling him chuckle at the shuffling you did to get comfortable, you finally settled with facing him in the dark, his hand running up and down over your sides as you adjusted yourself, one leg slung over his, and the minty taste of his breath lingering on your tongue as noses brushed together, sharing a pillow.

“I like this.”

You hummed, eyes closing a little, your hand coming up to find his, bringing it away from your side to instead clasp it between your bodies, and you dipped your head down to press a kiss to the fingers joined with yours. “Sharing a bed?”

“Well, yes, but other things. Getting to see you as much as I have this week, it’s been incredible. I’ve seen you almost every day, and I’d have you by my side even more than that if I could. Going back to college is going to suck.” You squeezed at his hands tightly, a spark of excitement running through you, despite your sleepy state.

“I thought you loved your college? You always tell me such great things about it.”

“Everything else could be world-class, award-winning, and it’d still suck because you’re not there.” His words were slurred with sleep, and you let his hand fall down to rest on the mattress, your palm pressing over his heart, feeling it beat steadily and solidly under your touch.

“Well, that’s no fun, is it? I’m expecting you to show me all of the great things to do.”

He let out a huff of amusement, never shifting, but shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, if we ever get some free time during this year for you to come visit.”

“What if I didn’t just visit? What if I stayed?”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart, I might justice you down to the bed and refuse to let you leave.” He seemed to realise how his words had sounded, his body stiffening for just a moment, before breathy and quiet laughter was shared between you both, and he tipped his head up to press a long and slow kiss to your lips, both of you too lazy to really move, and so your lips played a lazy game together.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? You breaking up with me? Because it would be awfully awkward if you did, we’d have to sleep back to back, and I would much rather cuddle.” He used the arm slung over your waist to pull you in closer, until his chin could rest on the top of your head and he could pull you in enough that your legs tangled and your chests pressed together.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you weirdo.”

“Your weirdo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just listen to me, okay?’ He made a vague noise of agreement, going quiet despite the snickering that he was holding in, and you toyed with the material of his shirt, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to form words. “You know all the extra work I’ve been doing lately?”

“The work that’s been keeping you extra busy?” He sounded like he was pouting, a sulky voice, and you squeezed him a little tighter, not sure that you could get any closer to him if you tried, by now.

“It’s not been college work. Technically.”

“Extra credit?” He was half-asleep now, and you wanted to get this out before you lost him to sleep.

“No, transfer papers, and the likes.” You heard the sudden intake of breath that he too, body tensing up beside you, and then he was shifting a lot, pulling back and holding your face in both of his hands, more alert and awake than he had been for hours now. “There was a lot to do, I had class papers and catch-up assignments, and I still haven’t sorted out housing, but it went through. From now on we won’t have timezone struggles or differing social calendars, but our only problems would be different class schedules.”

“You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” You barely got your laugh out before his mouth was descending onto your own, a kiss that portrayed everything there was to say. Love, passion, adoration, gratitude, excitement, anything and everything that you could think of, feeling it all being conveyed.

This was exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for, you wanted him to be as thrilled as you were at the potential that the two of you would have, sharing a college as you moved to be closer to him, and there was a wetness to his cheeks as he twisted his head one gasping breath before he was dicing back in to kiss you again.

“I love you, Dave. I’m sick of being away from you.”

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, lips stinging as they pressed for his, trying to return the eager kisses that he was gifting to you. When you finally needed a real breath, you pushed him back, shushing his complaints and groaning as you did, twisting your body to rest your head on his shoulder, and he kissed along the top of your head, any space he could reach, before finally laying back down into the blankets and settling in for sleep. “Happy New Year’s to me.”

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.  

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

[let-me-write-shit]

can you write a little something about Harry and reader finding out the gender of their baby after a long time of trying?

Ok, first of all, I’m SOOO sorry for taking so long to write this while I finished up my story. When I got this request, I got super emotional because this happened with me and my husband. So the story I wrote is our actual story. I hope you like it.

Word Count: 2,950

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

And don’t forget to let me know what you think! Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

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Little Miracle

It had been two years. Two long and frustrating years. When Harry and Y/N first started talking about trying to get pregnant, it was exciting. They had been married for about three years at that point and Harry had finally started to slow down in his career a bit to focus a little more attention on his wife with the prospect of starting a family. But things hadn’t gone to plan. They didn’t expect to get pregnant on the first try. Maybe not even the second. But by month three, they started to get discouraged. Maybe their timing was off. Y/N’s period was irregular, after all, and their ideal of ‘letting it happen when it happens’ was starting to become easier said than done. So, Y/N started taking ovulation tests.

She took a text every single day for a week, and all of the tests came back negative. Not a big deal, there’s only three days of ovulation in a month. She continued to take them. The third week, nothing. Maybe her ovulation days were spread out further apart since her period was so irregular? By week five, Y/N began to worry, but she hadn’t lost hope, yet. She visited her OB/GYN who encouraged her to keep trying, try to stress less, and eat healthier. So she did. She started exercising, changing her diet, taking more vitamins, even starting couples yoga with Harry, doing everything within her power to live a better lifestyle. Nothing worked.

With every negative ovulation and pregnancy test they got, Y/N spirits dwindled. Harry began picking up more work, doing anything he could to distract himself from the ranges of emotions that were running through him. Of course, he wanted to have a baby with Y/N. She was the love of his life and to be able to bring a piece of both of them in this world would be the biggest blessing he could have imagined. But seeing the pain and heartache in Y/N’s eyes each day after another negative test felt like a stab in his chest.

He tried to do little things to take her mind off of it. Spontaneous dates, trips to the spa, exotic getaways, concerts, you name it. But when they got home at the end of the day, passing by the empty room they had always talked about one day making into a nursery, he saw the flicker of hope in her eyes die. It was even harder whenever tabloids speculated her pregnancy or friends and family asked when they would have a baby. They always played it off, simply saying ‘it’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen’, but the rage he felt whenever someone brought it up was something awful. It took everything in him not to lunge at the person joking about it. If only they knew, maybe they wouldn’t be so insensitive.

After a year and a half of trying, they decided to bite the bullet and meet with a fertility specialist to see what was going on. Harry had just finished a tour and they thought now was the perfect time to get serious again. Dozens of tests were done between bloodwork, urine screenings, semen samples, and finally an ultrasound. That’s when they were given the news. Y/N had a pretty severe case of PCOS. It was the cause of her irregular periods and the reason why it had been so difficult for her to conceive naturally.

The doctor had sat them down in a room to discuss what this meant. According to him, the chances of Y/N ever conceiving naturally, without medical intervention, were slim to none. And even though there were several medical and procedural routes they could go, the chances of a baby sticking, though not impossible, did not look to be in their favor. The look on Y/N’s face was enough to kill.

After the doctor laid out all of their options, he gave them some space to digest, and as soon as he left the room, Y/N collapsed into Harry’s arms. They had given up hope. What was the point in trying? Why go through all the pain and discomfort of medications and procedures for the high probability that it’d end in miscarriage? When they got home, they began discussing their options. There was always surrogacy and adoption. But the more they talked about it, the more frustrated Y/N got. She tossed all of her unused ovulation and pregnancy tests in a drawer under her bathroom sink and slammed it shut.

“Maybe we can get a second opinion about your PCOS,” Harry suggested, following her into their bedroom.

Y/N shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, and curling up on her bed, tired from all of the crying, “Maybe the universe is telling us we shouldn’t be parents. Maybe it’s just not time yet.”

Harry pouted, curling up with her, “Love, we’re going to have a baby. It may not have your eyes or my dimples, but we’ll have a family someday.”

Months had passed and Y/N continued to take her ovulation tests out of the habit of taking them every day for nearly two years, and every day they would still come up negative. It was Father’s Day, and after a long day celebrating with Y/N’s dad, the couple came home and got ready for bed. Y/N opened a drawer to her bathroom sink to get some floss and to take her daily ovulation test, setting it on the vanity counter before finishing her business, and as she washed her hands, she noticed the faintest extra line imaginable.

Laughing, she threw it in the trash, almost certain that it was either a false positive or a trick of the light. Still, with over four hundred negative ovulation tests under her belt, it was a bit strange. She didn’t mention anything to Harry, afraid he would think she was crazy. The number of times she had convinced herself she was pregnant because of a ‘feeling’ was starting to become ridiculous. But, what’s the harm in trying? Harry looked especially hot today with his hair extra floppy and the perfect amount of stubble on his chin. All it took was her dropping her dressing gown to get him in the mood.

But when the next day rolled around and her ovulation test was negative, she figured the previous night was just a dud. Typical. She had completely forgotten about it, her mind distracted by the fact that Harry had to leave for a few weeks to work on a new album, meeting with producers and mixers, songwriters, and masters in LA. Y/N stayed in their London home, spending time with his family and meeting up with friends.

The day Harry was supposed to return, she decided to get all dolled up for him. It had been a while since she had gone all out, and she wanted to surprise him. First thing’s first, she needed a shower. She stripped out of her clothes, tossing them in the hamper, and decided to use the bathroom real quick before she got in. The sink drawer was slightly ajar and she saw the outline of the unused pregnancy tests she never got the chance to take. She frowned, pulling it out of the drawer, all of the lost hopes and dreams fluttering away with this one pregnancy test. She should get rid of them. She sat on the toilet in thought for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. What’s one more test, for old time sake?

She held the test under her stream for a few seconds and shook it dry before tossing it to the ground, barely out of sight, knowing that the test would be negative like it always was. Besides, she had no symptoms of being pregnant. She felt fine. So, she finished her business and washed her hands. But just as she was about to get in the shower, she happened to look down and saw it. It was faint. Very faint. But it was there. Two blue lines.

Fully naked and one foot wet, she rushed over and grabbed it off the floor, pulling it to her face and holding it up to the light to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But no matter how she turned it, she couldn’t unsee the two lines.

“Nope. It’s just a false positive,” she told herself before tossing it on the counter and getting in the shower.

But she could barely focus. Her mind kept wandering back to the test. Was it possible? She remembered the ovulation test she had taken on Father’s Day. Maybe she had ovulated. Maybe she was pregnant. No. Not possible. But….maybe?

It was a good thing she drank so much water that morning because when she got out of the shower, she had to pee again. This time, she made sure to get a cup to pee in, wanting to try multiple tests, just in case. She dipped three into the cup and set them on the counter, leaving to get dressed before returning. She took a deep breath, trying not to get her hopes up, before looking down. And her heart began to race. All three, barely visible, had two lines. Were they too faint? Did that mean she wasn’t pregnant?

So, to be sure, she took out the big guns. An electric pregnancy test. She needed to see the words. It wouldn’t be clear until she got a definitive answer. Pregnant or Not Pregnant. So she dipped it in and saw the little hourglass blink, and watched as the bar got closer and closer to completion. It took a moment to register, but when she saw it, an audible gasp escaped her as she clapped her hands over her mouth and stepped back.

Pregnant

“Oh my god!” she cried, tears rolling down her face in streams.

She picked it up, put it down, and picked it back up again to make sure she was reading it right. Pregnant.

Y/N had always imagined telling Harry in a cute, fun way. Putting a bun in the oven, or with a game of Pictionary. Maybe even a little onesie. But all of that went out the window. He was going to be home any minute and there was no way she could keep this to herself long enough to figure out how to tell them. It was something they had been waiting on for two years. She wouldn’t wait another second.

She gathered all of the tests she had taken, capped them so nothing could be exposed to the pee, and took them down to the dining room table, scattering them around and staring at them. Her leg shook, anxious for her husband’s arrival, and she bit her fingernails, still in shock that this was even happening. The beeping of the motion sensor went off, signaling that the front door had been opened and Harry’s voice rang through the house.

“Y/N?! I’m home! Where are you?!”

She tried to shout, but she couldn’t find her voice. The butterflies flapped around in her stomach like crazy and she felt like she could vomit from the nerves. It only took seconds for him to find her, though. He wore sweats and his hair looked almost greasy from his long flight home, a smile had stretched across his face at the sight of her. But it quickly turned into confusion when he neared.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the objects scattering the table as he got closer.

He picked one up to examine and upon seeing what it was, his eyes widened, gasping, “What? No way?” he put the test that he had been holding down and quickly grabbed another one, and another, and another, repeating, “Is that a line? Y/N, is that a line?” before finally grabbing hold of the electric test that read ‘Pregnant’. He gripped it tight, finally looking up at his wife, tears rimming his eyes, “You’re pregnant? We’re going to be parents?”

Y/N grinned, her eyes beginning to water, and nodded, “We’re going to be parents.”

Harry lost it, unable to control his emotions anymore. Two years of pent up sadness had blown out of him and he bawled, collapsing into Y/N’s arms and squeezing her tightly, blubbering, “I’m going to be a dad.”

They waited a while before telling anyone, terrified of their fertility doctor’s prediction that their baby would most likely not stick. But after three months of regular appointment and growth checkups, all of which looked great, they felt comfortable enough to tell their immediate family and very close friends, all of whom were beyond thrilled for the couple.

It was easy to hide her pregnancy for a while. She had no symptoms, she hardly showed, and it was at a time where Y/N and Harry hardly left their house anyway, so most people hadn’t suspected anything. They had managed to get halfway through the pregnancy without any leaks, and finally, at their twenty-week checkup, they would be finding out whether they were having a boy or girl.

They were especially nervous because, although they had been tossing names in the air for months now and had a boy’s name picked out almost right away, they hadn’t been able to agree on a girl name quite yet, and Y/N was almost certain they were having a girl, though Harry had been adamant that it was a boy.

“I don’t care, either way. I just want to know what kind of laugh they’ll have,” Harry said as the ultrasound technician moved the wand around his wife’s belly, taking measurements of all of the baby’s extremities and organs. “Like, will it have that cute high-pitched baby laugh? Or will it have one of those laughs that sounds like demonic possession, you know? I just want to be prepared for what I might hear in the middle of the night.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes, “I hope they have a demonic laugh. Imagine how much more fun Halloween would be? And everyone would be too creeped out by their laughing to want to stay too long. Imagine all of the awkward or boring situations we could get out of because of it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised, “Well, when you put it like that…”

The nurse giggled at their conversation and turned to face them, “Okay, are we ready to find out the gender?”

“Yes,” they grinned, squeezing each other’s hands tighter.

“Alright, let’s see if baby’s cooperating,” sang the technician, sliding the wand down further and pressing it harder into her skin. They saw their baby’s legs moving around wildly as she tried to get a better look in between their legs, digging the wand in harder. And that’s when they saw it. They shared a look with each other, mouths agape, as the nurse smiled, “It’s a boy.”

Y/N laughed, turning to face her husband, expecting him to start gloating. But she saw the reflection of light hit the water that started to collect at his lash line and a single tear rolled down his cheek, his chin quivering and sniffling as he quickly wiped it away.

“We’re having a boy,” he choked, catching his breath and pressing his lips to her forehead, his hand squeezing hers even harder now. The nurse grinned at his display of emotion as Harry whispered into her ear, “Paxton Robin Styles.”

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

Taglist: @odetostep

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (6)

Hey kid. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’re up to it. Would you be free this afternoon?

Izuku idly reread the text and the brief exchange that followed as he whiled away the few minutes left before the agreed time for the meeting. 

Just a little over twenty-four hours before, Izuku had had a minor stroke at the mere thought of All Might texting him about a trip to the police station. Just a little over twenty-four hours before, he would have soared straight to cloud nine at the thought of All Might texting him ‘to have a chat’. It was a pity that the only emotion he could muster at the moment was a vague sense of stunned apathy.

“I’ll get that.” He informed no one in particular when the bell rang. The man installing what probably were legalized viruses on his laptop gave him an odd look, and his mother replied something indistinguishable from the bathroom. Izuku shuffled out of his room and unlocked the front door.

“Young Midoriya. Good afternoon.” All Might had reverted to his laid-back cargo pants and t-shirt attire. He seemed more tired and subdued as well, more like on the day Izuku had met him. 

“Good afternoon.” Izuku gestured at him to come inside, which he did with a quiet thanks. He did not remove his shoes though, and he stopped only few steps in upon spotting the second man fiddling with the landline in the living room.

“Ah. Busy day, is it?” All Might acknowledged the technician with a knowing nod. He then turned towards Izuku and tilted his head towards the front door. “Say, how about we take a walk? I bet your house feels crowded enough without me imposing as well.”

His mother’s head peeked into the hallway. All Might greeted her with a little wave and a weirdly embarrassed grin.

“I’m going for a walk.” Izuku announced as he slipped his shoes on.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Her eyes shifted between All Might and him with ill-concealed unease.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Izuku cut short. He wasn’t in the mood for another discussion. “See you later.”

He strode out of the building without hesitation. He made his way down the stairs, through the parking lot, all the way to the sidewalk before stopping. All Might caught up with him a minute later, after lingering on the threshold to exchange a few words with his mother that Izuku decided he did not care about. He also decided to ignore the pointed stare the hero aimed at him when he finally reached him.

“Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?” All Might asked after a beat, gazing up and down the small road.

“Not really. You?”

“Any place is fine by me. I need to get reacquainted with this city, its layout is quite different from how I remember it.”

Right, All Might had just moved in. And Musutafu had likely changed a lot since his U.A. days… That would have been a tremendously interesting topic for a chat, Izuku could feel the questions popping up in his head in droves, despite everything. Unfortunately, he was under no illusion that what All Might wanted from him could be that kind of casual conversation.

They picked a random direction and started walking. For almost five minutes, they strolled without breathing a word. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been under any normal circumstances.

“Had another rough night?” All Might said eventually.

“Mh.” Easy guess. The bags under Izuku’s eyes would soon rival the fixed shadows circling the hero’s if he didn’t manage to rein in his sleeping schedule soon. The nightmares had ceased, thankfully, but his head had been so full of disjointed and clashing thoughts and memories that he hadn’t managed to catch some shut eye until so late that it had become early. 

Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. In hindsight, it felt strange that Izuku had never contemplated the possibility himself. It also felt absurd that it could be true though, instead of some sort of huge misunderstanding. That his father could be-

“Oh, before I forget. The villain is faring much better.”

“Uh? What?” Izuku blinked.

“The sludge villain whose quirk you returned.” All Might graced him with a gentle smile. “I heard he was already mostly coherent by last night, and as of few hours ago he was firmly denying ever bearing any ‘serious’ ill intent towards you and your friend, demanding to see his lawyer and complaining about the quality of the lunch he was served.”

Guilt needled Izuku’s stomach upon realizing that the villain’s plight had completely escaped his mind since his return home from the police station. How poorly committed his sympathy was. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess?”

“We guess.” All Might chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with another incident that badly in years, but I’m glad that no one suffered any permanent damage, at least. And thank you again for bringing the matter to a close in my stead.”

“It’s hardly your fault if things went the way they did. But… yeah, I’m glad he’s okay and that it’s over.” Now if only that hadn’t sparked a much worse and much more scarring mishap, at least for Izuku… “Are you all right, by the way?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah. Have you managed to see a doctor yet? About, uh…” Izuku pointed at his own mouth, unsure how to describe the attack the man had suffered the day before, the likes of which Izuku had only seen in movies and cartoons, usually from people sporting deadly and gory upper body wounds. 

All Might laughed with inexplicable, genuine mirth. “Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t playing it cool when I said I was fine. It’s just a thing that happens. Usually it isn’t quite as, uh, dramatic, but it really is nothing concerning.”

“But… you hadn’t even used your quirk…” Izuku could not fathom how spraying blood like a fountain on a presumably regular basis couldn’t warrant seeking any kind of medical attention, but the hero waved off his objection with finality.

“Trust me, it’s fine. More importantly...“ All Might wasn’t looking at him. He seemed deeply focused in memorizing as much as he could of his surroundings, peering here and there at street nameplates, buildings, alleys… manholes too, amusingly. But the low and soft quality of his tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking just out of politeness. “What about you, kid? How are you?”

Izuku dropped his gaze to his feet and shrugged. It was an accurate answer, actually. He’d spent so many hours torturing himself with doubts and grief and confusion that at some point his brain had sort of… ran out of energy to spare for emotions. He supposed it wasn’t the worst response he could have had. Stolid empty-headedness was largely preferable to the scorching waves of betrayal, impending doom and overbearing dismay he’d sampled the day before.

“I imagine how difficult all this must be for you.“ All Might went on, just as tactfully. “Have you talked with your mother?”

Oh, scratch that. He was still capable of feeling something. His mother was enough of a sore topic to make him clench his fists. “...Yeah. I have.”

“...I don’t think-”

“She knew.” Yeah, he was still angry. It bubbled in his chest like boiling tar, thick and sticky and suffocating.

“She told you that?” 

“I heard you three talking about it last night. I was listening from outside the living room.”

“What?!” All Might seemed genuinely shocked. It hadn’t been Izuku’s proudest moment, admittedly, but let’s be honest, what else was he supposed to do? Pretend that they weren’t discussing life-changing revelations just few meters away from his bed? He was only human. All Might slapped a large hand on his face and dragged it down alongside his pointy features with a groan. “Oh, come on…”

“She knew, and she never told me.” His nails were digging painfully in his palms and- oh great, now he was getting teary again. He’d held it together for the whole day and now he was going to lose it five minutes after All Might had showed up. For the third or fourth time in as many days. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he’d managed to retain any sort of dignity since the very moment he’d met his idol. Why bother now? “S-She’s known since- since before marrying him- however that happened… I j-just...”

All Might regarded him silently for a moment. “...Things like these look very different from an outside perspective. Especially to someone as young as you are. It’s very easy to judge, and even easier to misjudge.”

“But she knew he was a criminal - one who would not even consider changing his ways for his family - and she… wanted him around anyway? Why would she do that?! It’s- I wouldn’t want an unrepentant villain still involved in illegal business around my son! He’d be... a bad influence, at the very least!”

“Before yesterday, have you ever thought that he could be having a bad influence on you?”

“Uh? No, I… I didn’t know that he was… I never… questioned...”

All Might sighed deeply. “Your father is a notoriously charismatic man. He’s always been particularly adept at coaxing people to his side without open coercion, but with simple, well-aimed words. You never suspected that he may have been acting in his own best interest while offering or withholding certain information from you, although it may seem obvious in hindsight. I bet he managed to instil the same trust in your mother, despite what she knew about him.”

“I…” Izuku rubbed away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t. And it tore at him. “W-Was it because of the money? She never... I-I thought we were good, she n-never said anything… I-If I’d known, I would have… I wouldn’t have asked for… s-so many things, I-”

“I highly doubt that a few toys and games could have had that big of an impact on the family budget. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over anything.” All Might slipped his hands in his pockets, sympathy plain in his sunken eyes. “Your mother found herself in a very tricky situation, through no real fault of her own. She navigated it as best as she could, and I’m sure your well-being was her top priority. Seeing the healthy and upright young man you’ve grown into, I’d say she handled it admirably.”

“...I know.” Izuku knew it, really, he understood that. But… he’d always seen his mother as just about the most transparent, honest, sensible and sensitive person on Earth. And it turned out she didn't… exactly… meet that standard, however idealistic. It had been a blow, on top of everything else, one that had left him without a real, fully trustworthy figure when he most needed it. “I know that, but… she should have told me. At some point. There’s no excuse for not doing that.” 

“Perhaps. It’s hard to predict the negative impact that such a confession may have on a younger child, but perhaps she should have.” The hero conceded. “I’d refrain from handing down verdicts though. You kept some secrets of your own from her. You hid your quirk-”

“But that’s not the same thing! Not even close! A quirk isn’t as big an omission as your father being a criminal!” Izuku snapped, then immediately hunched his back in regret, his tone losing some volume but not its bitterness. “And, you know, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have listened to him so readily if someone had warned me that he isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen!”

“Look, it isn’t my place to comment on how things stand or should stand between you and your mother, or how you should behave, but… if there’s one thing you need to keep in mind - and please do keep it in mind, at all times - is that the one person who bears absolute and doubtless blame is your father. That’s the source of all the lies that have been fed to you. Lies and deception are… what he does, really. What he’s always done. You and your mother are both victims in all this.”

Izuku sniffed and wiped some tears and snot on his sleeve. It was gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a logic to All Might’s words, but no logic justified the staggering duplicity that had just turned his life upside down. The unfairness of it all was simply too much to accept. 

The boy looked up when All Might poked him on the shoulder to catch his attention.

“Speaking of which…” All Might swerved to the left, entering a smaller and more secluded lane leading away from the more trafficked routes. He had resumed his perusal of the area, and his expression had regained a firm, almost steely edge. Izuku followed him. “What I wanted to talk to you about concerns what transpired about your father, and how it will affect your life going forwards.”

No surprise there. The two plain-clothes agents that had shown up that morning, no doubt mourning the loss of their well-deserved Sunday rest, had been clear enough of a warning of some upheaval to the Midoriyas’ routine. All Might’s vague text had only cemented Izuku’s expectations of further disruptions.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it is imperative for you to understand the gravity of your father’s position… especially to prevent him from enacting any sort of manipulation or control on you in the future.” The hero began. “The man you know as ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ goes under many aliases, so much so that we are still unaware of his real name. He has committed an astounding variety of serious crimes, over the course of decades. Even if your mother claims to be aware of his background, I assure you she doesn’t know the half of it.”

Izuku physically curled up under the weight of those words. It was… even worse than they thought? His father sounded more and more like some obscenely powerful yakuza boss or something, which was just… just...

“The police will be gathering and analyzing as much evidence as possible to find clues leading to his current location and activities. All possible forms of communications between you and him will be monitored. Your phones will be bugged, and any electronic devices you own will be fitted with tracking software. Your mail will be examined before delivery.” All Might paused, assessing Izuku’s lack of a reaction to his speech. “Did they tell you about this already?”

“S-Some of it, yeah.” Izuku’s gaze dropped to the asphalt again. The dried tears made the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes itch. “Will there be cameras too? Inside the house?”

“I haven’t heard about cameras. I don’t think so. Seeing as your father never set foot in your house, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to surveil it that closely from the inside. The outside will be watched, so we’d notice anyway if he tried to approach it.”

“...Okay.” 

“...I know it’s an oppressive situation. No one likes having their privacy invaded. But know that the professionals in charge of monitoring you are utterly uninterested in you specifically, or in whatever you do with your free time, as long as it isn’t anything outrageously illegal.” All Might’s voice softened again, although not enough for Izuku to dare raise his eyes from the ground. “I hear they are especially unconcerned about peculiar web searches and piracy perpetrated by bored adolescents, and some such things. Anything that isn’t strictly related to the case at hand won’t ever make it into any reports.”

“Mh.” A couple of small mercies were better than none, Izuku guessed. He really couldn’t muster neither enthusiasm nor gratitude for them at the moment though.

“Ah, about this… Those monthly phone calls your mother mentioned are particularly relevant for the police. They are likely their best bet in pinpointing your father’s position.” All Might paused. “For that reason, we would appreciate your cooperation on that front.”

Izuku’s brain suddenly jolted into activity, a myriad of spy movies and comics coming to his mind and offering plenty of distressing scenarios he could be potentially thrusted into. “You mean like… you want me to help you find him? Get him to drop hints about where he is, or- or asking him to go somewhere where you can set up a trap, or-” Izuku looked back up at the man, without bothering to conceal the pure terror that such prospects filled him with.

“What? No, of course not!” All Might exclaimed, surprised. “I mean, it isn’t out of discussion that we may try to actively lure him out at some point, but that would take extensive preparations and precautions on our part. We’d need to gather more intel and agents, recruit other heroes first… We definitely aren’t considering taking any such steps yet.”

“O-Oh… okay…” He let out the tiniest sigh of relief. No wild capers… for now...

“Besides, even if we were, we wouldn’t use a child as bait! Your mother would be much more suited to assist us. Any request from her would have more sway on your father, and she would handle the pressure much better.”

“So… what do you want me to do then?”

All Might shrugged. “Just keep up appearances. Continue having your monthly calls with him as if nothing happened, so as not to alert him that something might be wrong.”

That wasn’t that big of a demand, objectively speaking, but... it didn’t seem feasible either. Izuku’s grasp on his own emotions was tenuous at best at the moment, and his father had always been exceptionally perceptive to his state. He really didn’t think he could endure up to two hours of small talk about heroes, quirks, school and assorted pleasantries without having some sort of breakdown halfway through. Izuku gulped, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding of his cowardice. 

“...I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Surprisingly, All Might wasn’t put off in the slightest. “In that case, you could ask your mother to pretend you got hurt in some way that prevents you from speaking. Bad tooth, removed tonsils, broken jaw, you name it. That would earn you at least another month of silence and… hopefully the investigation will make some progress in that time, or you’ll grow used enough to the situation to face him with a cool head.”

That was a reasonable approach to the issue. It was a relief to know that someone else was putting some thinking into all this in Izuku’s place, now that his already flimsy decisional autonomy had stumbled into the metaphorical equivalent of a bear trap. “...I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” All Might nodded, strangely unperturbed by Izuku's less than proactive attitude. “Other than what I’ve mentioned, you will also be followed wherever you go whenever you aren’t at home or at school-”

“W-What?” Izuku instinctively glanced around, envisioning slow-moving cars or shady individuals with sunglasses and holed newspapers observing him from bushes.

The corners of All Might’s mouth twitched upwards. “You will not be aware of it, nor will anyone else, of course. It will have no actual impact on your daily life, like all the other measures we’ve already covered.”

“But why?” Izuku griped, his heart sinking so deep that it would soon pierce through the Earth’s mantle. “My father isn’t going to suddenly drop by to say hello, you just said so yourself!”

“It’s for your own protection too.” All traces of humor vanished instantly from the hero’s demeanor. “Your father is no stranger to violence. In the past, he has resorted to brutal and immoral means to dispose of his enemies, and... I’m sorry to say that he would not hesitate to employ such methods against his own family, if he deemed it a danger to his own safety.”

Izuku couldn’t hold back a little hysterical chuckle that sounded pitiful to his own ears. “That… sounds a bit exaggerated, doesn’t it? I-I get that he’s a bad guy, but… I really don’t think he’d do something like that to us. H-He’s never even raised his voice with me, never...”

“Midoriya. I beg you to believe me when I say that you can’t trust anything of what you think you know about your father.” All Might stopped to glare intently at a narrow, dingy alley littered with trash bags. “He is dangerous. Extraordinarily so. Tsukauchi is pushing for having further safety measures enforced for your family, and until those have been granted, please be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Refrain from taking unfamiliar routes, and stick to crowded areas whenever you can. I don’t want to scare you, but even having eyes on you at all times is no guarantee of a timely intervention, under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Is it… really that bad?” Izuku breathed, gutted by the unexpected harshness of the picture painted by All Might’s words. It was… inconceivable, still. His father, deliberately hurting him? His father, whose cutting sarcasm was just about the only vaguely hurtful trait Izuku had ever witnessed? His father, a hardened, soulless criminal averse to puns and All Might trivia, and yet always so willing to let Izuku torture him with both? His father, ambushing him from dark corners? “Is he really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“What did he…” Izuku started asking, only to trail off. It was a pointless question, with a clear answer. It had been buzzing in his head for the whole night, blindingly obvious by now. “...He steals quirks, doesn't he? That’s what he does. He... maims people for…”

“I’m afraid he isn’t nearly as conscientious as you in regards to-” All Might cut himself off with a visible flinch. “Wait, he told you about his quirk? You know it’s the same as yours?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You didn’t mention that to us.” Bright pinpricks of blue were suddenly trained on Izuku with piercing intensity. It kept catching him off guard, how both of the Symbol of Peace’s towering forms could switch from amicable to intimidating at the drop of a dime.

“I-I thought… He said it was a secret- one of his confidential matters. I’ve always thought he was some sort of… prison guard or undercover agent…” God, how unbelievably stupid it all sounded now. Izuku had never felt more childish. 

“...That goes to show…” All Might mumbled, barely audibly. It unsettled Izuku. It went to show what? His father’s cunning? Izuku’s naivety? Or… surely not that he could be hiding something on purpose...

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I had no idea how- how serious- I’d never-”

“Mh?” The hero blinked at him, as if emerging from a private musing. “Ah, I mean… There could be some merit to the other thing I wanted to ask of you.”

Izuku just waited, barely able to withstand the acuity of the hero’s gaze without shrinking. After a few tense moments, All Might let out a sigh and resumed walking, his eyes wandering back to the street ahead.

“To be frank… Personally, I don’t think we’re going to achieve much from all these investigations.” He grimaced, as if regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. “Not for lack of trying, mind you. Tsukauchi is an immensely capable and dedicated officer, he’ll pursue each lead as thoroughly as humanly possible, but… Your father knows how to cover his tracks. Phone calls, payments, mail, blatant cues like those have never brought us close to him in the past, not once. To his associates, yes, to his… ‘aftermaths’, yes. But never to him personally. His circumstances were always shrouded in impenetrable security. I doubt this case will be any different.”

Buildings gave way to the open horizon. They had reached the end of the street, which merged into a largest road running along the coast. They crossed it, and kept going on the opposite sidewalk, looking down on a thin stretch of sand separating them from the sea.

“That said… he did leave one huge trail for us to find this time. A whole family, out in the open.” All Might’s eyes returned to the boy pensively. “A breakthrough like this, if you’ll pass me the term, is unprecedented. The most obvious leads could turn out to be dead ends, but maybe there is something to be found in the smaller things.”

“The smaller things?”

The man gestured vaguely. “He’s been talking to you, has he not? To you and your mother both, for over a decade. Not that often, but… hell, he even told you about his quirk, and one would expect him to be very tight-lipped about that. There might be more to dig up. Details he may have deemed unimportant, or accidentally let slip. Hints. Small things.”

Izuku was finally catching the drift. “I’m really sorry, but… I know you probably can’t take my word for it, but I really don’t know anything about what he does, or ever did. He never let anything slip about his… his ‘job’...”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m referring to. The thing is…” The hero clucked his tongue in frustration. “We know so little about the man himself as well. His identity, his background, his history… We know next to nothing about him, and what little we do know, we were only able to discover through very unconventional means. If there’s a chance to glean one more shred of information hidden among the fabrications, I think it’s worth pursuing it.”

“So the police are going to question us about… fourteen years’ worth of chit-chats?” That seemed like a disproportionate endeavor for something as volatile as the possibility of parsing an ounce of truth. Exactly how desperate were they to catch this increasingly perplexing father of his?

“That’s the gist of it, yes. And ideally, we would like to interview you separately, to avoid that either of you could, ehr… inadvertently censor yourselves about information not known by the other-”

“Like my quirk. Or dad’s ‘activities’.“ Izuku muttered.

“...Yes. Things like those.” All Might paused, then cleared his throat. “Well… given the delicate nature of the case, we are trying to keep the workforce to a minimum, and involve as few people as possible. This ought to speed up coordination and briefing, as well reduce the risk of information leaks. Tsukauchi will be personally questioning your mother… as well as direct the entire operation. He’s quite the multitasker. And, well… since technically I’m already involved and up to speed and I won’t be contributing to the proper detective work in any capacity… we thought I might take care of hearing your side of the story.”

A little Oh was the whole extent of Izuku’s reaction as the hero’s words washed over him. All Might seemed a little discouraged by that.

“We figured it might put you a little more at ease… Talking with someone you’re already familiar with, instead of a brand new face. And, ehr… well, you mentioned being a fan, so…” He elaborated, his hands drawing half-formed shapes in the air to underline his words. He looked… almost nervous? “It’s just a possibility, of course. If you’d rather be entrusted to a proper member of the force, it’s well within your rights to request that.”

Izuku did not miss the underlying meaning of that winding speech. It was within his rights to request who he wanted to be interviewed by, not if. 

“Do I even have a choice?” All Might’s guilty grimace was all the reply Izuku needed. “...No, sorry, I… That’s a stupid question. I’ve no reason to refuse either.” Surely not the faint sense of betrayal knocking on his conscience at that very moment. Could he even feel bad about betraying someone who’d never been honest with him in the first place? 

“...I know it’s far from an enticing perspective.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It’s going to eat up a lot of your time, and people are never exactly eager to ‘snitch’ on relatives, even when they’re criminals. But I really think it could be of great help to us.”

So that was the role Izuku was going to have in this whole mess, that of a very oddly-shaped piece in a very complicated puzzle. It could be worse, he supposed. Being stuck in a room talking with the number one hero for hours could hardly be considered a real punishment. Were the topic of the conversation literally anything else, it’d be a dream coming true, even. He should push that angle on himself, Izuku pondered. Maybe he could talk himself into enjoying the whole thing, in some way. 

“Since I’m no policeman, I’m amenable to reward you for the time and effort you’ll generously dedicate to the task with suitable bribing. I was thinking snacks, if that doesn’t come off as too cheap.” All Might continued with a tentative grin, although his attempt at levity didn’t stick the landing. “No? How about, ehr… All Might merch?” For some reason, his face scrunched up as if the suggestion physically pained him.

Izuku sighed. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, was there? “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you, that is very good to hear.” All Might smiled with evident relief. He patted Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll say, you’re taking all this a lot better than I was expecting. For all the crying, you have quite the resilient attitude. Heroic, even!”

Izuku let out a half-choked sob. Oh. Oh, wow, that realization hurt. He hadn’t thought about that since… had it really only been a couple of days since making it into U.A. had been his biggest concern in life? And now…

“Ehr… Sorry, did I say something wrong?” All Might asked when faced with the new bout of tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. Izuku shook his head.

“S-Sorry, it’s just… I-I guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to becoming a hero now, uh?”

“What?”

“There’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near a hero course now, is there? My father told me it was basically impossible before, and now...”

“Your father told you that you couldn’t be a hero? Your father who is a villain?” All Might gave him a pointed look. “You may want to start reevaluating some of the nuggets of wisdom he’s been imparting on you in light of the new revelations, kid.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Izuku griped. “It’s even worse now that he turned out to be a villain! A bad one too! Abusing the same overpowered quirk I have, it’s just… too great a bias, isn’t it?”

All Might seemed caught off guard, then he frowned and looked away without replying. There it was, the naked truth. Not even an attempt at a rebuttal. Out of discussion. Izuku’s dreams scattered to the wind, without hope of salvation.

“Y-You know, I actually thought… I could work my way around it.” Izuku continued among the sniffles, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I thought I could just pretend to be quirkless. F-For a while. Pass the test like that, make some friends, get… get trusted as a hero because of my work. A-and then, then one day, just… after everyone trusted me, I thought I could come out clean. And start using my quirk for good. I thought it could work. Get others to know me before my quirk. B-But it’s never going to happen now. The police know, the school will know.”

“...I must say that building your budding hero career on a lie isn’t the most solid plan I’ve ever heard.” There was no accusation in All Might’s tone, but his words still cut deep.

“I know…” Izuku bit his lip. He’d known, but what alternatives did he have?

“But I guess we can’t all carelessly parade our true selves before public scrutiny, can we?” The man sighed, scratching his own head. “You are right about one thing though. Actions do speak louder than words. You might not be able to talk your way out of your… delicate circumstances, but factual demonstrations of good intentions can go a long way.”

“That’s… That’s all I’m asking for!” Izuku’s head snapped up, desperately latching onto that single lifeline. “I would do whatever it takes to be allowed to try!”

“Well, I’d say you’re already on the right path then. Cooperating with the police is definitely a good step to establish good faith.” All Might flashed him a sheepish smile. ”...I’m not saying that just to grind my own axe, I swear.”

“Do you think it would be enough for U.A. to let me attempt the test?”

“You want to apply to U.A?” The hero seemed strangely surprised.

“Yeah. Is it… not a good idea?”

All Might took a few moments to reply. “...It might work in your favor, actually. U.A. is famous for the degree of self-determination afforded to its management by the government. If you’re worried about external interference, U.A. is your best bet to avoid it.”

A tiny, shy flicker of hope ignited in Izuku’s chest.  

“...I’ve known the principal of U.A High School for a long time. He’s a bit of an eccentric, but one with an impeccable work ethic.” All Might resumed after a moment. “He’s not the kind of person to let unfair judgement undermine his institute. Especially if it prevented an aspiring hero he deems worthy from being appointed his student.”

“You mean that…?”

“I mean that if you do plan to apply to U.A. you could have a chance of making it in, regardless of your unfavorable background. If you pass the admission test, that is.” All Might suddenly stopped walking. “...What is this?”

Izuku blinked, ripped out of his thoughts, and took in the portion of the seafront they had reached. Wow, he really hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, had he? “...Oh. It’s, ehr… an illegal dumping site, I guess.”

“Really?” All Might commented, eyeing the sad, disregarded No Dumping sign welcoming its disobedient visitors.

“Yeah. The currents always bring flotsam to this area, so it was never clean in the first place. And then people started taking advantage of it…”

“And no one ever comes here to pick up any of this?” Strangely, the sight and the slight stench of mounds of rusting metal and assorted junk didn’t bother All Might, who climbed down the few steps separating the sidewalk from the beach.

“No, the city administration never took an interest. Everyone else just avoids this spot altogether. It’s been getting worse over the years.” Izuku had no idea why All Might was studying the piles of dismissed appliances as if they might hold some hidden treasures within, but he felt rather dumb for accidentally introducing this to the hero, of all places in Musutafu, as his first sightseeing landmark. “Sorry, I should have brought us somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Undaunted, All Might wandered deeply into the maze of refuse, with Izuku ruefully tagging along. “A safe, handy spot where a passing criminal in a hurry could stash some loot, don’t you think? Good to know.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Right. That was what it meant for a hero to know his turf, right? It went beyond street names and layouts. It meant to be aware of how each location could lend itself to certain criminal activities, what places could make for good improvised hideouts, where civilians were more or less likely to be gathered...

“How were you planning on passing the admission test?” All Might asked when they reached the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the waves crashing on the sand.

“Uhm. Well, I’ve already started reviewing the subjects listed in the syllabus…”

“I was referring to the practical session, actually.”

“Oh, uhm… Well, I tried looking for information about it online, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Apparently it’s U.A.’s policy to bind all participants to non-disclosure. They say that observing how potential candidates react to unexpected situations is part of the evaluation process, so…”

All Might looked at Izuku, his expression blank. “Yes. So?”

“Ehr.” Suddenly Izuku felt extremely on the spot. “W-Well, without knowing what I’m getting into, I don’t really have any specific strategies in mind.”

All Might cocked his head with a slight frown. “What about generic strategies? What skills were you going to capitalize on?”

“I… Well… I thought I’d just… try my best. Improvise and use my head.”

All Might blinked. “...That is what everyone else is going to do too. Except everyone else will also have a quirk to rely on, while you weren’t going to use yours. That’s a massive disadvantage right there.”

“Yes, I know.” Izuku clasped his hand behind his back in shame. That was an excellent point, one that somehow no one had ever raised with him. Everyone, including his father, instantly shot down his idea as soon it left his mouth. No one had ever asked him to elaborate on the practical details. Which he had sort of… failed to sort out so far.

“And you have no notion as to how to bridge that gap.”

“Not… not yet.”

All Might crossed his arms, sporting possibly the harshest expression Izuku had seen on him yet. It made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “...Are you serious about this hero thing? Are you sure it isn’t just a passing fancy?”

“It isn’t! It absolutely isn’t!” Izuku answered immediately. “I just… I don’t even know if I’m allowed to bring any tools, or-”

“Tools?” All Might scoffed as he walked back to him and gave him a critical once-over. “Looks to me you already have all the tools you need, if you deigned to consider them.”

“Uh?”

“You have arms, don’t you? Hands. Legs. Arguably a head.” All Might poked at each listed limb with a bony finger as he started circling him like a starved shark. “All in working order, yes?”

“Y-Yes- I mean, I’m not ill or anything, but-”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capitalize on those? A quirk is an important part of a person, but it’s not the only one! You have a body, use it!”

“Ah, yes, I…” Izuku gulped. “It would make sense to, uh, try to get a little stronger, I guess…”

“You guess? ” All Might was reaching yet unexplored levels of visible exasperation, which was saying something considering the whole secret-villainous-father debacle. Izuku didn’t know if getting the number one hero so worked up about his little pipe dream should be considered flattering or shameful. “Being a hero isn’t a desk job! Running fast, lifting heavy weights, enduring fatigue are not optional skills! No matter what quirk they have, no hero worth their salt can neglect to keep in excellent shape!”

“R-Right. Of course. It’s just that, uh…” Izuku fidgeted. “I’m not really good at that sort of… physical stuff. I’ve always been a bit on the scrawny side, and I get tired easily, and I’m no good at brawling-”

“Despite training?”

“...I’ve never followed a proper training regimen, but…”

All Might rubbed his hands on his face. “Kid, unless they have a physical-enhancing quirk, people aren’t just born strong. They get strong by training - do I really have this state this out loud?”

Izuku was fairly sure his face was about to spontaneously combust. Of all the things he’d expected to happen in his near future, being scolded by All Might in person for his lack of commitment to physical activity was not one of them. “Y-You are right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to disrespect you or your profession…”

“You didn’t, I was just… You seemed passionate about this two days ago...” All Might trailed off. “My point is that all the equity in the world won’t net you a place in U.A. if you don’t pass that test. And if you really are serious about raising your chances of becoming a hero, you have to give this some serious thought, and soon. You can cram months of study into weeks if you have the brains for it, but you cannot do the same with workouts.”

Izuku willed himself to hold his head up straighter. “I-I will. Thank you for your advice, it makes a lot of sense.”

The silence that descended between them was more than a little awkward.

“I’ve pestered you enough for today, haven’t I?” All Might eventually said as he took off towards the sidewalk. “Let’s go back.”

Izuku trailed behind the hero as they made their way among the waste, and almost bumped on him when he slowed to a stop to stare at a particularly high pile of contorted, rusty scraps.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking that… What I need is a quiet, lonely place to have some private chats with you, and what you need is a way to work up some muscle and rack up some good karma, right?” All Might scratched his chin as he scanned the heaps of trash hiding the rest of the city from view. “...Say, how do you feel about community service?”

[murfeelee]

Hi there, just a question for you if you have the time ♡ I know that you allow people to convert your Cyberpunk items from TS3 to TS4 freely (you are amazing, you know that?). However since I have the game, do you have or know of a tutorial for exporting from my files? The one I found was very general, very not 'beginner friendly'. Else I will just bring some of your stuff over if it's not been done yet, miss having them in my game (and base game TS4 only is limited). Love you ♡

Hi! Yeah, feel free to convert whatever; I think CC TOU/policies are ridiculous, and perversely counterproductive to uploading content publicly on the internet anyway.

Just be warned that a lot of my CC's not that great, cuz C2077 uniquely does not use or include typical diffuse textures, so I had to make many of the textures myself (and that's never a good idea, LOL). Not to mention, I had to shave off 1/2 - 3/4 of the polys on most of the meshes, cuz they're just excessively high. Even after decimating the polys they're still too dang high. It's been a pain in the neck to do anything with this effing game, even when not actually playing it! (－‸ლ)

☽✶•.¸(✶•.¸★¸.•✶´)¸.•✶´☾ ☆«´¨`•°°•´¨`»☆    ☽.¸.•✶(¸.•✶´★`✶•.¸)`✶•.☾

Welcome to Murf’s School of Crap and Crap-Making!

School Motto: Prepare to be tortured! For Science!

Lesson #6B: MORE ON GAME EXTRACTING (PT2)

☽✶•.¸(✶•.¸★¸.•✶´)¸.•✶´☾ ☆«´¨`•°°•´¨`»☆    ☽.¸.•✶(¸.•✶´★`✶•.¸)`✶•.☾

Trust me: extracting from C2077 in general is not very beginner friendly--this is the hardest game I've ever converted from, next to all the Koei Warriors games. Because not only did I have to use EFFING COMMAND LINES again, but the way CDPR arranged the game files (particularly the textures--or lack thereof)--were just saturated in demonic energy.

Mind you, I extracted C2077 back in the EARLY days, within the first weeks of the game's release, way before the Toolkit updated and got a GUI and CDPR released its dev toolkits for modders, so it’s possible I’m giving you outdated information, as the process nowadays might be pretty different from how it was back when I did it.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I used the CP2077 Toolkit here, and followed the steps here.

To be fair, the steps themselves are actually very straightforward. I'm just a lazy, spoiled little ingrate who likes nice clean and simple GUI tools so i can click a button and see all the meshes & textures and go about my frikkin day. But no, instead i have to sit here with EFFING COMMAND LINES and try to figure out WTF these lines of code & text frikkin mean, with zero mesh preview tool to speak of. So I literally have no frikkin idea what anything looks like until I import it into Milkshape/Blender/3DS Max. GRAND. 🤬

(My horoscope told me I needed to get more sleep, and boy they weren't kidding, cuz I'm ornery AF today. 😩 )

But yeah, basically all you have to do is open the CP2077 toolkit .exe, and use the format the steps provide you with whatever the directory is where you installed the game.

As I've explained before in Pt1, all games bundle their files differently, so the trick with extracting is just to figure out what kind of bundle it is, what's in it, how to open it, and how to convert the mesh files into .obj format and the textures into .dds format.

For C2077, most of the files are in typical .bin files, with the meshes (.mesh files) & textures (.xbm files) in content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive | content\basegame_3_nightcity.archive |

So all you have to do is follow the steps and the formats they give you: copy/paste their extraction format code, and the "path to archive" is your installation directory: (e.g.: "archive -e -p "F:\Games\Cyberpunk2077\archive\pc\content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive" -w *.bin" to extract the .mesh files; or "archive -u --uext dds -p F:\Games\Cyberpunk2077\archive\pc\content\basegame_4_gamedata.archive -w *.bin" to extract the .dds files from the Gamedata bin archive).

Then just wait several HOURS (no exaggeration) for each archive to extract. I let mine run overnight for a a day or two--it took bloody frikkin forever.

Once you have all the meshes extracted, the good news is that converting them to .obj files The Sims can read is very easy, cuz all you have to do is use good ole NOESIS, THANK GOD~! ^0^ (Noesis can also open the .xbm texture files, BTW--it’s that clutch; I keep telling y’all.)

The issue with the textures is that C2077 just legit doesn't have many. 💀 It's a feature, not a bug--instead of using diffuse textures (like The Sims' overlay/multiplier diffuse), games like C2077 and Call of Duty instead use materials--kind of like the sample fabric swatches in a textiles shop or tailor, with dozens upon dozens of simple materials & microblends & patterns (a leather print, a metallic sheen, a paisley pattern, etc) shared between all meshes. It’s awful.

So you the extractor/porter/converter are now left with the sad task of patching all these materials together to make a lick of sense on a mesh that might very well use 100 different material files (no joke!) rather than 1 or 2 diffuse textures. And WOE BE UPON YOU if you’re trying to convert it for The Sims 3, where meshes can only use textures on ONE UV Map. The saving grace of TS3′s UV Mapping is that we have CASt, so often we can get away with having plain multipliers, so long as the RGBY Mask allows us to have recolorable channels that do a lot of that heavy lifting for us with patterns & color wheels. For TS2/TS4, however, I imagine more work would need to be done providing swatches, as nothing’s recolorable in those games.

So REJOICE at the pithy handful of actual diffuse textures (mostly decals & posters, etc) that CDPR bothered to grace us with in C2077--they're acts of mercy, I promise you. 🙏

And speaking of UV Maps--C2077′s are upside down. Which is absolutely frikkin lovely; who doesn’t love extra work, seriously. 😒

But yeah, that’s it for extracting, really.

Again, the method I used might be outdated by now, since I did all of mine in December 2020/January 2021, and I haven’t needed to stay up to date with the tools or anything since i already got what I needed out of them. :\

[loveshacks]

diego and soundman's accents

this one was a little harder since neither of them are given specific bithplaces in canon. i had to make a few assumptions in order to assign them an accent ^^' but somehow i feel like i got a more precise idea of their voices than gyro and johnny's?

Soundman: in canon, he's never given a more specific heritage than "native american" which, thank you. thanks. that helps. also for all my ~15 minutes of forum scouring i could not find anyone else who cared to try and figure out what tribe he might be. So I will do my best:

We know at least that they live somewhere in the desert, with their intro scene having a backdrop of mesas and cacti. we also know that they ride horses, which helps to narrow it down a little. based on that im guessing Apache, since Apache people are more well known for their horseback riding than their neighbors in the desert, the Puebloans. Some Apache people did live in tipis like Soundman's tribe seems to, but the Apache groups that lived in the desert (Lipan and Mescalero) generally lived in wikiups, which are similar, but less easily transportable. Like I said he doesn't seem to be based on any specific tribe, so the references to Native culture are all over the place.

But as if Apache is specific enough! Apache itself has two distinct languages within it (Eastern and Western) and at least four dialects within those. I'm going to assume Soundman is Mescalero Apache specifically, which would mean he speaks Mescalero-Chiricahua. Here is a sample of someone switching between english and Mescalero- altho that's a much more modern example, i think we can assume that's pretty close to how Soundman would speak!

My guess is that he learned english entirely from his books, since his tribe seems to be pretty anti-contact, so i believe his english would be pretty accented and probably become more adapted/smooth throughout the race. ok transcription time!

/ aj wɛl k'las͜ t̬ɛ k'an.t'ɛ.nɛnt wɛt maj fiːt ɛ'lõ: /

"eye well c(l)ass t'e cantenent wet my feet el-oan" (VERY roughly) here's the IPA reader , i recommend Ines for best results

reader friendly text: aj wɛl klas͜ t̬ɛ kantɛnɛnt wɛt maj fiːt ɛlõ:

the mescalero language does not have the [ð] (that, the), [ɹ] (red), or the [w] sounds, so i figure the "th" jumps to the next best thing, a flap [t̬ ] (butter, medal) and an [l] is slipped in in place of the [ɹ] as they are both pronounced in the same area of the mouth, assuming he doesn't just skip over the sound entirely. as for the [w] sounds, the neighboring languages, Western Apache and Navajo both include a [w] sound in their alphabet, so i don't think it's impossible for Soundman to say 'wet water is wet,' assuming he had contact with people outside his tribe.

The biggest difference is in the vowels. Mescalero does not have the [ɪ] (will, hit), [ə] (alone), [əʊ] (own, loan), or [ɒ] (cross, hot), and those are just the sounds i needed for this sentence ^^'. They do however have 4 different nasal vowels, which are kind of hard to imagine the sound of if you aren't familiar with them, but think of how the french say "jean" and you have a nasal 'a' right there. So I think Soundman would often slip back into nasal vowels, especially in place of a vowel/nasal consonant combo at the end of a word: the end of 'alone' slips to the soft palate, and he doesn't hit the 'n' sound on its own. Mescalero also doesn't have any diphthongs, most notably the [au] in sound. so his name probably sounds more like / sã: mã / assuming it's not a translation of some longer phrase.

The vowels would be the defining feature of his accent, since it seems a lot of english vowels don't translate into mescalero. Also, didn't get to mention this, but mescalero also has quite a few sounds that are more...lisp-y (i guess?), like [ɬ], [ɣ] and and [k'] idrk if i can write out an accurate pronunciation, check them out on this interactive chart. So i think he would end up using those sorts of sounds pretty often especially in place of tighter consonants, so like 'slip' might become 'shlip' and 'contact' might become "conta(cht) " with the ending "k" sound going towards the soft palate and being pretty closed off.

Diego: he's a poor british dude, so you'd think we could just pin him with a cockney accent and call it a day. Sadly it's just not that easy. And i like making things complicated. Cockney accents are found among lower class Londoners- aka city dwellers, and Diego was born and raised somewhere in the countryside. A few miles (or kilometers i guess, we're in the UK now) can really be a world of difference on an accent. so:

during his intro his parents take him "into the mountains" so that puts us up in the north of the country- and then he flows down a river and grows up on a farm. So I am pinning him with a Yorkshire accent, since it's an area of countryside directly next to the mountains, while newcastle seems a little too north (but imagine geordie diego lol) and scouse (liverpool) seems a little too far south/also on the other side of the mountains.

Here is the oldest example i can find of a yorkshire accent, someone born in 1912, and luckily it doesn't sound tooo different from the modern accent, at least not to my american ears :~). But, given his goal of 'climbing the ranks of society' it also makes sense for him make an effort to cover up his natural accent in order to sound more posh (aka upper received pronunciation). I'm thinking then that his speech would be characterized by a lot of dropped r's/ non-rhoticity (obv), glottal stops at the end of words (mostly to replace t's d's and k's), omitting h sounds from the beginning of words, as well as diphthong vowels and a majority of frontal vowels. he might even roll his 'r's if they're in the middle of a word, like 'brando' / bɾɑ:ndɔ /

if he's really minding himself though, he'll be sure to enunciate his t's & h's, follow the rises and falls of upper RP, and not roll his r's, since that would give him away as a...u know, / blʊ:dɛ kʰʊ:ntɾɛ: fʊ:k /

the vowels would be a little harder to mind, since upper rp vowels are generally formed nearer the front of the mouth, while yorkshire vowels are less restrained, more open (formed with a low tongue/open mouth), and not very subtle. yorkshire accents can also create diphthongs where there are none, so floor may be pronounced, flu-or.

/ a:bɛts kʰɑ:ntʰ be: fɛkst jʊs laɪʔ feɪtʰ /

" 'abets c(ah)n't b(eh) fex'd, joos lai' fate" (roughly) IPA reader i recommend Geraint or Amy to get the best results.

kinda weird sounding. i know. like i said, i think he would have trained himself to hit his t's (otherwise it would sound like, "abe's, ka' fae' " ) and some more posh sounding vowels like in can't (caaahn't) and be (beehh). And then there would be the bits of his natural accent that slip thru the cracks, like the dropped 'h' in habits, and the long 'u' sound in 'just.' (dkm he might sound sorta like louis tomlinson)

so there u have it ^_^ i might do valentine, steven steel and hot pants next

[drazzilder]

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder 

Chapter 38: Greatest Fear

It’s been about a week since the festival. You haven’t gone back to UA since for fear of losing control again. It wasn’t your idea to stay away, it was Enji and Nezu’s idea. Last thing they want is a demon losing control in the school. You don’t mind, it gives you some free time and much needed rest. You’re still doing hero work but it’s your day off today.

The kids won’t be home today, they are visiting a friends house for the evening. Enji is working so you decided to spoil him when he gets home; multi course meal, massage, bath salts, the whole nine yards just for him. The whole morning you spend cooking a variety of dishes, taking time to make sure each one is perfect. While all of this is happening, Zaheer just relaxes and watches you and talks to you. It’s nice sometimes to just talk with Zaheer like you did as a kid, nothing serious, just casual. You just took dessert out of the fridge when you get a phone call.

“Hi Alan. How have you been.”

After meeting you parents, you waited a month to contact Alan. He understood it was a lot for you, but it was worse for him. He was so upset at them he left the United States and moved to Japan to be close to you. You always try to make time for him but he understands if hero work gets in the way.

“Hey (Y/N), are we still good for tomorrow?”

“Yea. I wanted you to meet the whole family this time. The kids can’t wait to see their uncle again. We are going to go to the local park for a picnic if that’s ok?”

“Sounds like fun. I hope they didn’t miss me too much.”

“Oh, not too much. Natsuo might be a stick in the mud though, he’s a little moody lately but give him some time and he will be fine. I’d love to chat but I’m on a mission right now. I’m cooking a nice dinner for Enji to cheer him up. He still a little worried about me so I’m hoping this will help.”

“Say no more. Take care!”

After you hang up you look up to see Zaheer standing up now.

“What’s wrong, Zaheer?”

“I know we are having a good time today but can we talk about One for All. That phone call reminded me that I wanted to discuss it.”

“Normally I would just brush you off, but I know better. We need to talk about it.”

“The one thing I want to know is, what happened?”

“When I tried to control Deku’s body, I felt the past users. At first they were ok, but something clicked for them and they used everything they had to push me out. The problem is that the mind control doesn’t work that way so it was pushing a lot of energy back into me.”

“That was more energy than I have seen you eject before. I’m surprised you held on as long as you did without losing control.”

“I’m not going to lie, I almost did. It was so much but the only thing that kept me in control was trying to not hurt anyone. I guess I willed myself into holding it in.”

“Any idea why they wouldn’t want you in there?”

“I’m guessing it has something to do with you. You are a demon after all and they probably were trying to protect him from your energy.”

“That does make the most sense. They didn’t get much of a chance for you to explain what was going on. The only other thing I wonder about is why so hard to judge. They must have seen you before from inside of the boy.”

“That I still question but I don’t want to worry about it too much. Like I said before, it’s probably because there is a demon inside of me.”

“What about him? I known you felt that man durning the mind control.”

“That’s what really scares me. I don’t know why I would feel him inside of Deku. It probably is just me though, something to do with me being forced out.”

“You’re probably right. Changing the subject. All that cooking you’re doing is making me hungry. Any samples?”

“You like a giant kid.” You say rolling your eyes. “Here. I baked a bunch of  these cream puffs. Some are for dinner and the others were for later but if you want it you can have some.”

“Really?”

“I have to make you feel special too. Go ahead.”

Zaheer takes the cat shaped pastries off of the plate, freshly filled, and eats all of them in a single bite. “You really know how to cook, these are delicious!”

“You should know, you live inside of me.” You laugh and continue on your culinary endeavors to finish the last of the meal. Right as it is about to be dinner you worry a little that Enji won’t make it home in time. You don’t dwell on it though, Enji sometimes is late because of hero work. You’re about to start packing the meal away when the phone rings and you see it’s Enji. “Maybe he’s running late and I can teleport him the food.” You think as you answer.

“Hey big guy, how’s your day going?”

“Good afternoon, (Y/N).”

You freeze. You know that voice from anywhere. Zaheer must have heard it as well because he is standing again. Your mind starts racing between many things: the past, where is he, how did he find you, why does he have Enji’s phone?

“W…what….how…?”

“I’m sorry to scare you, but I just wanted to say hello.”

“Why would I want to say hello to the man who tortured me?”

“If you turn on the TV, maybe you’ll listen.”

You look at Zaheer who turns the TV on. Once the screen lights up, you see half the screen with the smiling man on Enji’s phone while the other half shows Enji himself. He is tied up and hanging from chains, attached to each his limbs. There is blood dripping from the left side of his face but you can’t see it, his head is face down. He is covered in cuts and bruises and not a single flame to be seen.

“ENJI!” Is all you manage to scream.

“Now will you listen?”

“What do you want?!”

“Oh, that’s simple. I want my test subject back.”

“What?”

“In exchange for Endeavor’s life, I want you.”

“But…”

“Oh and don’t worry. You can trust me to let him go if you come. I’ll text you where to meet. Come alone, well as alone as you can be with a demon inside of you.” *click* Now the TV just shows Enji.

“Enji…..no……” You are standing completely still as you look at screen. Enji is breathing, but it’s slow and he isn’t moving.

“We have to save him.”

“I know but how are you going to do that?”

“That man wouldn’t be stupid enough to do this alone. DAMN IT! Why did they have to take Enji. Anyone else but him.” You say as you start to curl down into the fetal position, trying to hold it together.

“(Y/N), look.”

You look back up and see Enji’s hands moving. At first you think something must be causing him pain to move them like that. Then you begin to recognize that the movements are deliberate on their motions, it’s sign language.

“He’s trying to tell me something. Since when could he do that?”

“I taught him in his off time. He thought it would be useful to learn silent communication.”

“Zaheer, what is he saying?”

“He just says, ‘help’.”

“He must really be in trouble, we have to save him, please!” You plead.

“I know, he is still marked so I know right where he is.”

That’s when you get a phone call. “What?” Is all you answer.

“(Y/N), it’s All Might. I’m watching the TV right now.”

“Then you know I’m going to save Enji.”

“No! You can’t yourself. Let other hero’s help. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with.”

“Yes. He is the man who put Zaheer inside of me and tortured me. This is my battle. He started it over 30 years ago, I’m ending it now.”

Right before you hang up, all you hear is All might say “What?! But that’s A….” Zaheer goes back inside of you, you change into your hero costume and you disappear in a blue flash.

Next Chapter

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 3, part 1

I felt much better this morning. I suppose whatever sickness fairy visions impart is strictly transient—or maybe dealing with reagents has given me a good immune system. 

When I went outside, I found that I’d somehow managed to plant the foxsocks in the garden. I don’t know how I could have done it in my feverish state and I certainly don’t remember it, but there it is. The foxsocks seem to be thriving already, or at least to have a solid foothold. As I’d hoped, they should be reliably available from here on out.

As I stood there, sleepily puzzling over the garden, I heard a screech from above. Looking up, I saw what at first appeared to be a large bird circling down towards the ground. When she landed, though, I saw she was a woman with wings instead of arms, talons instead of legs, and a feathered tail, wearing a khaki uniform—a postal harpy. She greeted me while balancing on one leg and asked me to confirm my name. I told her and she introduced herself as Liùsaidh. She indicated I ought to retrieve my mail from her talon (it’s polite to wait for their permission). She asked if I might be sticking around and I said I thought I was. She said she’d see me next time I got mail and flew off.

What she’d brought was a letter, with a return address listed as “The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke.” It was a single handwritten (actually, impressively calligraphed) page. The spelling and grammar was, shall we say, characteristic. It’s easier to just stick the letter in between the pages than copy it down, so that’s what I’ll do.

To whom it may concern:

It has come to our attentionne at The Friends of The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke that ye are a practicing vvitch reſiding in the hamlet of Greanmoore. We would like to congratulate ye on your appointmente and hope you find the positionne both fulfilling and rewarding. We had brief correspondence with your predeceſsor and were glad to learn of yovr presence.

The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke is among the premiere magical muſeums in northweſternne High Rannoc. It has one of the moſte exhauſtive collections of magical materials, svbſtances, and hiſtories native to High Rannoc in the vvorld. Academicks, travelers, and school field trips regularly reference and reſearch the Muſeum’s collections in their purſuit of more compleat knowledge.

As The Muſeum of Magicke does not have a repreſentative in Greanmoore or the surrounding areas, we have a requeſte to make of ye if you are willing to fulfill it. We pride ourſelves on the compleatneſs of our Magickal Components collectionne, but we are miſsing many of the species native to Greanmoore and its svrrounding locations. We humbly ask that ye help vs remedy this deficiency. If you are willing to do so, we woulde requeſt that ye send one of each magickal componente available in the area to the Muſeum, at the returnne addreſs listed above. Should you do so, ye will receive compenſationne.

We hope ye will partner with vs in this endeavor. Your contributionne to societal knowledge shall be greatly appreciated by generationnes of reſearchers, thinkers, and touriſts.

Eagerly avvaiting your reſponſe,

The Friends of The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke

[A plain text accessible version of this letter is available here.]

Obviously, the spelling is horrendous. This might have been forgivable a few decades ago, but the shape of the ‘s’ (that is, it not being that odd ‘f’ looking thing sometimes) and the distinction between ‘u,’ ‘v,’ and ‘w’ have been standardized since before I was born. Not to mention, the Ledgerwood Museum is associated with the University of Arcbridge—so there must be someone there who knows better.

The thing is, for a long time the only people who could write were those who received higher education, so the vast majority of documents that exist throughout history have to do with academia. So, even as reading and writing became more accessible and spelling and grammar more standardized, that outdated irregular styling retroactively became associated with education, with decorum, with genius.

I’ve never really had much respect for that kind of posturing—I think that if you’re brilliant the content of your writing ought to speak for itself. You shouldn’t have to so explicitly climb on the shoulders of those who came before you, especially not by intentionally making the mistakes they made or using the outdated styles they used.

I sent back a letter inquiring about the specifics of compensation along with a sample of my foxsocks.

I’m going to the library.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

The Greenmoor Public Library is near the center of town, not quite in the square but on Market Street directly off of it. It has some interesting architecture: it looks as if it was originally three separate buildings the size of single-family houses, that were all connected up at a later date by a circular addition between them so that the final building looks like a cog with three spokes. Each section of it is made up of a different material—exposed stone, lime render, and brick for the original houses, and cement for the central cylinder—but it all works together in a quirky, oddball way.

There are no internal walls in the library—even where there must have been external walls in the original houses. They must have knocked them down (I don’t envy that job). Every wall is lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, and in each of the spokes there are many close-set freestanding shelves besides, with only narrow aisles left between. At the center of the center is a circular desk, and around this are scattered tables with benches and clusters of armchairs for convenience of reading and research.

The library is owned and run by Donella and Saundra Glasford, an older couple. Saundra is actually the schoolteacher, but she helps with reshelving and organization on weekends. I know this because Donella explained it to me in detail. As soon as I walked in the door she stood from behind (within?) the circular desk and approached me, insisting that she give me a tour of the library. In addition to a survey of the entire space and what kinds of books it contained, this ‘tour’ involved a hefty amount of insight into the daily lives and routines of the Glasford family. 

They have a kid named Muiredach, who’s very interested in ancient things at the moment—giant skeletons and the like. Donella has lived here her entire life but Saundra moved here forty years ago. Saundra’s expertise is in thaumatology (specifically thaumatozoology, the study of magical animals), in which she has a degree. Meanwhile, Donella has extensive knowledge of literary and epistemological history, though she received no formal schooling past twelve.

After she finished showing me all the different sections and layouts of the library, Donella told me I should feel free to poke around as much as I wanted. She added that I wouldn’t find any secret passages or hidden rooms, and that they had nothing to hide.

I hadn’t realized before she said that what this was all about.

I told her that the rumors weren’t true, that I wasn’t some Government spy or anything like that (I heard Saundra mumble something like “well you’d also deny it if you were a clype, wouldn’t you?”). Donella quickly assured me that she believed me, but then said “better safe than sorry,” so I’m not quite sure she actually did. I told her I didn’t understand where all the suspicion was coming from. Saundra piped up, saying that I was a stranger who came to a small, isolated town I had no prior relation with to fill a position whose previous occupant had mysteriously disappeared, and asked if I understood how that looked (not in quite those words—her accent and dialect was rather strong). I told her I’d been summoned directly by Mòrag McKinney, and had the paper trail to prove it. I asked if she thought Mòrag was involved in some conspiracy, too. She shrugged and said she was just saying how it looked.

Donella said regardless that I should feel free to use the library—it was for the public, after all—and pointed me in the direction of the section on rune magic. Thus, the conversation ended, but my uneasiness didn’t entirely abate. Still, I’d come to the library for a reason.

The rune section was limited, but I didn’t need to know any more than the basics. I’d only ever been taught one way to create runes, and it was clear my predecessor used a different one—all I needed to do was to figure out which and I could reverse engineer the runes’ meanings.

I found that she used a combination of the witches’ circle and magic square methods, which are both apparently very popular. I wonder why I was never taught them. Both systems derive the shape of the sigil directly from the letters of the intentions they’re meant to invoke. It’s traditional to remove the vowels before doing so, but luckily for me my predecessor chose not to do that.

So, with a bit of work I was able to determine that the sigils I copied down meant: life, autonomy, gentleness, congeniality, and empathy respectively. It was clearly built to be a very kind golem. Now that I know that, I’m going to try to create my own sigils and charge them, and see if that helps.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

While I was at the library, I also collected a few of the greatest works of modern literature—Lord of the Midges, Beathag’s Choice, To Kill a Gull-Drake, et cetera. The next morning I packed the books into the rucksack I’d used to travel to Greenmoor and set out to take them to Morna, heading to Hero’s Hollow by way of Moonbreaker Mountain.

As I skirted the base of the mountain, I heard a voice call out from above me, crying “hey, you! Groundling!” It was clearly far above me but somehow also quite loud. I looked up and saw, blotting out the sun, a great hot air balloon.  I’d heard vague stories but had never seen one in person before. The most striking part of it was the balloon itself, made of canvas patterned beige and blue and larger than a house. The top half of it (as I was informed later) was enclosed by a net, which had metal rings on its edges attaching it to a tangle of myriad ropes and cords. These in turn held aloft the basket, which was not the simple platform I’d seen described in books but rather looked like a small sailing boat, complete with railings, rotors, and a steering wheel.

The voice announced that it hadn’t seen me around before and that I ought to climb aboard. A ladder with metal rungs unfurled over the side of the boat, just low enough that I could reach it if I jumped. I did so after making sure my rucksack was firmly on my back and shut, and climbed up to reach the aircraft.

The man onboard was only slightly taller than me. His white shirt was rumpled and stained with oil, and his left suspender was fraying. The thick goggles on his forehead, held together with large bolts and screws, were the only thing keeping his thick black hair from whipping in all directions with the wind (mine, in contrast, had already become hopelessly tangled). His sleeves were rolled up, but his forearms were covered by brown leather fingerless gloves, with metal studs that flashed in the sunlight as he hauled the ladder back onto the balloon. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face, with a cylindrical chamber marked “O2” sticking out from each cheek. Directly in front of the mouth was a clear window, so that I could see his lips moving when he spoke. He offered me a similar one and I accepted—the air was rather thin so high up. I could see him say something that was drowned out by the wind, and then he beckoned me towards a door. Given the shape of the craft, I wasn’t surprised to discover that it led to a kind of captains’ quarters.

Inside, the wind wasn’t quite so brutally loud and I could actually make out what my host was saying. He introduced himself as Captain Akash Majhi, aviator extraordinaire, and asked if I needed a lift. I said it might have been a bit late to ask since I was already on the balloon, which made him chuckle. I said that since he’d offered, I was headed to Hero’s Hollow, and he replied that that would be no problem. I noticed as we conversed that he only made eye contact when he was speaking—when I spoke, he instead watched my lips.

As Akash turned to pull a lever on the wall, I asked where he was from. He didn’t respond. With the lever pulled, a large strip of the ceiling rotated so that a piece of what had been the floor above—the piece to which the steering wheel was attached—became the ceiling of this room. Akash then tapped what seemed to just be a wooden accent covering a swath of the metal wall above the desk and bed. The wood slid to the side, revealing a bay window through which he could see.

He took his place at the wheel, positioning me in his field of view, so I asked again where he was from. He told me he was a proud resident of the Cloud Isles. I told him I’d never heard of such a place, and he said I really must be new to the area. Belatedly, I told him my name and that I had in fact only moved here a few weeks ago. He told me that the Cloud Isles were just that: islands in the clouds, with wildlife, ecosystems, and culture. At the center was a great city that, yes, was attached to the clouds, but had mostly been built flying between and amongst them by generations of architects, donors, engineers, artists, and aviators like himself. 

I asked him where the city was located and he vaguely waved his hands. “Here and there.” He said that as the clouds drifted so did the Isles, but that the city itself never strayed too far from Greenmoor—otherwise, mapping and resource-gathering from the ground below would be difficult or impossible.

I asked him how I might visit the Isles, and he told me I’d need to be able to fly. He said the general ethos of the residents leaned towards mechanical solutions, but he had heard that there were magical ways of flight as well. I said I would have to look into that. He handed me a business card with his name, “balloonist | engineer | aviator extraordinaire,” an address, and a smoke signal pattern to use to contact him. He said if I was ever in the city he’d be happy to show me around. Then, he announced that we’d arrived.

We went back onto the deck and he unfurled the ladder over the edge. I  went to hand him the oxygen mask back but he told me to keep it—they were expensive, but he had plenty and I’d be needing it when (and he did say “when”) I visited the city. I thanked him, shook his hand, and started descending the ladder.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I made it back to the ground (the hop down from the ladder was smaller than the hop up had been), and smoothed my hair down before setting off into the Hollow. I’d only barely made it into the skull when my plans for the afternoon abruptly shifted.

It was just around midday, so the guards must have been on break or between shifts. Hurrying out of the dungeon was a group I recognized—it was the Lows, the mining family. Angus was carrying the son in his arms. The boy was clutching his thigh, and even from a distance I could see blood seeping through his fingers.

Crystal spotted me and immediately called out to me, thanking the gods for my arrival. I hurried to them and guided them back to the cottage, where I knew I’d be able to better determine how to treat the issue. Morna would have to wait—I had a patient to tend to.

⇦●〇●⇨

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Homecoming Job

leverage 1.02

Dr. LeRoque: Pardon me, Mr. uh?

Nate: Oh, uh, Nathan Ford. You’re Dr. LeRoque?

Dr. LeRoque: Can I talk to you outside?

Perry: Doc, he’s cool, I found him on the internet.

Dr. LeRoque: Yes, that never goes badly. (to Nate) With me.

Nate: Uh… I’ll be in touch.

(Perry hands him the flash drive and Nate follows the doctor out of the room)

okay but big mood “I found him on the Internet” “that never goes badly”

but also,,, bruh we NEED to know how their clients found them,,, like ??? H O W

- - - - -

Dr. LeRoque: You can’t just come in here and get his hopes up!

Nate: I’m just here to provide options.

Dr. LeRoque: There are no options.

Nate: The Veteran’s hospital …

Dr. LeRoque: Is 400 miles away and has a five month waiting list. Everybody in that rehab room is a reservist. When reservists get out they get sent home no matter where home is or how far it is from the treatment they need. Nobody thought this through. We’re not a rich hospital, I cashed in every favor I had to take care of these kids for as long as I could but I have to go back in there and tell Perry we can’t treat him anymore. I have to do that. Run your scam on somebody with money.

Nate: It’s not a scam. I’m here to help.

Dr. LeRoque: People don’t just show up to help. That’s not the way the world works.

leverage really called out the us government’s negligence and neglect for veterans in episode TWO and we stan them so hard for it

leverage said “go big or go home” from the VERY beginning

- - - - -

[Audition Room]

Sophie: Why? Why? I can’t live like this anymore. With the lies and the filth. No. Help me. I want to be clean. I want to be clean.

(two directors watching are overwhelmed by just how awful Sophie is)

Rogers: Yeah, you understand this is a soap commercial, right?

Sophie: Uh huh. When I thought about Peggy I came up with this idea that the dirt was really this giant metaphor, for sin.

(Sophie’s cell rings, she glances at her purse)

Rogers: You should take that. No, no you should take that.

Sophie: Oh. (answers phone) Hello? When? (hangs up) Peggy killed her first husband.

Rogers: Thank you

I literally scream every time I LOVE SOPHIE S O MUCH WHAT THE FUCK

- - - - -

[Parking Lot]

(one man is laying on the hood of a car and another falls on top of him. Eliot turns away from the car as the last man pulls a gun on him. They stare at each other for a moment, then a phone rings)

Eliot: That you or me?

(man seems unsure as the phone continues to ring)

Eliot: Could be important. Does your mama have your number?

(man looks down and Eliot grabs the gun, punching the man in the neck. The man goes down, choking. Eliot unloads the gun and tosses it away before pulling out his phone and answering it)

Eliot: Yeah? Nothing, why?

“nothing”? I’m-

- - - - -

(guard walks by a painting hanging in a museum gallery. He looks away for a moment, and when he looks back a rope is dangling where the painting had been. A cell phone rings)

Parker: Parker. Shh. No, I wasn’t shushing you.

I love her, your honor

- - - - -

(Parker, Eliot and Sophie come around the corner and head down the hall)

Parker: From the first job?

Eliot: Yeah.

Parker: I put all that money in a Swiss bank account.

Eliot: Millions of dollars and you didn’t buy anything?

Parker: I don’t like stuff, I like money.

Sophie: I bought a little retirement home, an island.

Eliot: Nice.

Sophie: In Dubai. And Tokyo.

Parker: What about you?

(they reach the door which has a small envelope with Sophie’s name written on it. Sophie takes it off the door and opens it)

Eliot: Yeah, I’m not about to tell two known thieves what I did with a multi-million dollar payout.

Sophie: Don’t you trust us?

(Eliot doesn’t answer.)

- - - - -

Hardison: This is our new cover story. Welcome to Leverage Consulting and Associates, founded in 1913 by the great Harland Leverage the Third.

(Hardison points to a painting on the wall of an older man that greatly resembles Nate)

Sophie: I’m sorry. Nate is going to kill you.

Eliot: Did you paint that?

Hardison: I’m gifted.

Eliot: That’s weird

HARLAND LEVERAGE THE THIRD

- - - - -

Hardison: Now Leverage Consulting Inc. is squeaky clean, all corporate taxes on record as being paid for the last ninety years. (He gives them each a cell and a folder) All your identities as partners, your payroll taxes are paid, you guys have pension plans and dental, those are employment records, case files and company newsletters.

(the group walks the halls of the Leverage offices as they discuss the files)

Parker: In 1998 I won the sack race at the 4th of July picnic. Cool.

Hardison: Now these, these are your offices. Now you can bring something like a photo, you know what, a plant! I’m a big supporter of dandelions.

hardison goes hardcore when coming up with backstories

- - - - -

(Hardison opens doors to a conference room that holds a long table with many chairs around it. One wall is dedicated to large TV screens)

Sophie: Nice.

Eliot: My man.

Hardison: Long version or the short version?

Sophie: Short.

Eliot: Short version.

Parker: Shortest.

(Hardison hits a remote the TV screens illustrate his explanation)

Hardison: Photo and video forensics programs, back doors into every electronic banking system in the world, running heuristic data crawls all over the news sites to find our clients, oh also!

Parker: This is the short version?

Hardison: Facial recognition database tied into CIA, NSA and the FBI. But, the real pièce de résistance (changes screens to sports games) DirectTV HD Total Sports Package. NFL, NBA and I threw in a little bit of hockey ‘cause I know you people like that.

Eliot: Hockey.

hardison nests SO HARD

like, bring in all the highest tech into your cozy new office you designed for you and your fellow adopted criminals? heck yeah

- - - - -

Nate: Our client is the cameraman. Corporal Robert Perry. He says that the Castleman contractors spooked and started firing.

Eliot: 5.56 NATO rounds mixed in with some 9 mils from the sub-machine guns. Insurgents would have used AK-47s with 7.62 ammo. It has more of a... (hits the back of his hand to his palm) crack. Contractors shot 'em up all right.

Parker: You ID’d the weapon from the gunshot sound?

Eliot: It has a very distinctive sound

D I S T I N C T I V E

- - - - -

Nate: Yes, and lobbyists in every office in Washington, DC. The problem with a cover-up is all the paperwork it takes to keep the lies straight.

Hardison: Internal emails, memos.

Nate: Exactly.

- - - - -

[Roof]

[Hardison and Parker are wearing black and connected to repelling gear)

Hardison: I gotta go back to the office I just remembered something.

Parker (adjusting Hardison’s harness): What?

Hardison: I just remembered gravity and the squishiness of all my manly bits.

Parker: I designed this rig myself. The line is carbon fiber. Five point harness. Weight support here, here, and here. Auto-breaking resistance on the main pulley back here.

Hardison: Okay cool, so it’s tested?

Parker: Not yet.

Hardison: Not yet? When the hell was you gonna test it?

(Parker pushes Hardison off the roof. She smiles, he screams)

Parker: Big baby.

(she jumps after him. Hardison screams until he stops upside down. Parker lowers herself to his side)

Hardison: Seriously? Seriously

hardison’s first time rappelling decidedly Did Not Go Well

- - - - -

Sophie: My company’s focused on meeting senators, but I’m thinking congressmen.

DuFort: You know the great thing about congressmen? Fifty, a hundred grand well spent will get one elected, but then once they’re in the incumbency rate is over 95 percent so you can get an average 18, 20 years’ use out of one of them. In these uncertain times buying a United States congressman is one of the best investments a corporation can make.

[DuFort’s Office]

Hardison: Oh I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I’m a professional criminal and I find that disturbing

they’re going at america’s THROAT in this one and I love it. thank you john rogers

- - - - -

(while DuFort is distracted Sophie pulls out his wallet and removes the RFID card with her teeth. DuFort takes off his coat to look at the stain)

I am but a simple gay and this was Hot™

- - - - -

the phones hardison gave the team have six main buttons: internet, text, files, to-do, id scan, and mail

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, what’s the status of the voicelock?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Uh, I’ve been sampling DuFort’s speech but I still need a few more sounds.

[Private Party]

Nate: How many?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Well I only need the sounds puh, tuh, oo, ah, eh, oh, ah, ke, a, ef.

[Private Party]

Nate: Ah, only those. Eliot.

(Eliot walks by carrying two trays of appetizers)

Eliot: I’m on it. Pardon. (approaches Sophie and DuFort) Hello.

Sophie: Ooh. Mmm.

Eliot: (to DuFort) Appetizer, sir?

DuFort: Sure, what do you got?

Eliot: I’ve got the pâté d’escargot avec bière d'Argentine and (looks at second tray and grimaces) what looks like old duck, kind of greasy.

DuFort: I guess I’ll have the first one.

Eliot: Of course.

(Eliot offers him the second tray and Dufort looks at him expectantly)

DuFort: Well? May I have some?

Eliot: The greasy duck?

Sophie: Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn’t have the greasy duck.

Eliot: No I wouldn’t suggest it.

DuFort: No, the other one.

(Eliot pretends confusion)

DuFort: The the pâté d’escargot with the bière d'Argentine!

Eliot: Excellent choice sir (gives DuFort the first tray).

DuFort: (takes food) Who is this clown?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Pretty good. Got most of them. Okay, now all I need is ef, uh and kuh.

[Private Party]

(DuFort spits out the appetizer he has taken)

DuFort: This is shrimp!

Eliot: Very good then. (walks away)

DuFort: It’s shrimp you stupid F----!

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Oh, there they are. Really loud too

parker being so competent and knowledgeable about voice activation codes? amazing. iconic.

and the whole scene with eliot and the food? hilarious.

also there already another meta post about this but this scene shows just how SMART eliot is,,, like coming up with that on spot??? don’t get me wrong, hardison is “the smartest man [any of them know]” but damn

- - - - -

continuing list of non-weapon objects eliot uses as weapons:

an IV stand

+ bonus

nate: the defibrillator/AED

- - - - -

Perry: Mr. Ford!

(Perry pushes a defibrillator towards Nate, who grabs the paddles. The first man runs toward Eliot with a knife, but Eliot grabs his arm and pushes him toward Nate)

Nate: Hello.

(Nate hits the man in the chest with the defibrillator paddles and he flies backward, unconscious)

eliot looking Impressed™ at nate for that

- - - - -

Eliot: Play time’s over Nate, it’s only a matter of time before they come after us. The tall one, the way he used a knife, ex-Marine, probably Force Recon.

Hardison: You ID’d a guy off his knife-fighting style?

Eliot: It’s a very distinctive style.

two distinctives in one episode

- - - - -

Hardison: I didn’t sign up for any of this. What I did before, nobody got hurt.

Sophie: I stole paintings for a living.

Parker: I never hurt anybody.

Eliot: I actually hurt people, so…

LMFAO eliot but also- notice that sophie never said that she never hurt people, she just said she stole paintings for a living

- - - - -

Sophie: Nate, if anything had happened to this kid--

Nate: You know you guys called on me. You remember? You begged me to run the crew, agreed to play by my rules. Now walk out if you have a problem with that. Walk out any day if you have a problem with that. It’s simple.

(everyone looks hesitant)

Eliot: We finish this one.

Parker: Just one

PSH like any of y’all believe that

- - - - -

Hardison: How do we hit ‘em?

Sophie: Congressman Jenkins, he’s our in. Looked me straight in the eye and told me he’d never even heard of the shooting.

Parker: So?

Sophie: Looked me in the eye? When men are telling me the truth they’re not looking me in the eye. A man only ever looks a woman in the eye when he’s making the effort to lie to her.

Eliot: ...Well you can’t argue with that.

Hardison: Noted and filed

LMFAO

- - - - -

Nate: All right, Jenkins is DuFort’s pet congressman, let’s see if we can get him to bite. The best way to get two people to reveal a secret, get ‘em to turn on each other.

- - - - -

Sophie: You should look out for the signs congressman. Missed phone calls, no more little favors.

Jenkins: Those are the same signs that your wife is cheating on you.

Sophie: That’s right.

Jenkins: What am I supposed to do when that happens?

Sophie (hands him her card): Play the field

- - - - -

Hardison: Congressman Jenkins is very careful. No direct bribes but he’s renovating his house and so far he’s received over $600,000 worth of work for a little over fifty grand.

(Hardison brings up pictures of Jenkins’ house on the screens)

Eliot: Castleman owns the contracting company, huh?

Hardison: I mean, he’s going through like three shell companies but yeah. And this man loves his house. Just check out his web browsing habits.

(Hardison changes the image to a website for wood panels)

Hardison: Look here, see the man spent three weeks picking out the perfect mahogany wood panels. This site is like wood porn.

Eliot: Is his house finished?

Hardison: Not even close.

Eliot: Can I borrow your phone?

Hardison takes out his phone, dials for Eliot and hands it to him.

Eliot (on phone): Hello? Yes, I’d like to cancel delivery on some mahogany wood paneling. Please.

(Hardison tries to help, Eliot walks away)

Eliot: The Jenkins house. Yeah, you know what, do me a favor man, just go ahead and cancel the whole order. Yes sir.

(Eliot leaves the room as Nate enters with a bowl of popcorn and two beers)

Nate: What’s he doing?

Hardison: Yanking the congressman’s chain

I love chaotic (pre)boyfriends

plus at one point it high hey looked like they were holding hands

and eliot’s SMILE at hardison ,,, you soft man, you never stood a chance

- - - - -

Hardison: A woo--whoa, whoa! A wood-- a wooden box?

Nate: A wooden box.

Hardison: Wood? Well, we can put a man on the moon but all our laws go into a wooden box.

- - - - -

Hardison: I mean, break a law, everybody’s done that, my mama’s done that but steal a law. Oh, she’s gonna be a legend baby.

(on screen, C-SPAN news shows the Senate floor where Parker is walking to “The Hopper”. She waves at the camera and puts the fake bill into box.

Parker: The eagle has landed.

Nate: It’s in!

Hardison: Uhn! Go ahead girl! Sexyness! Unh. Rrrnnn.

Nate: Might want to ease up on that a little bit.

Hardison: Just saying.

Nate: Yeah.

Hardison: Between me and you. Between me and you.

Nate: Never leaves the room.

adorable “the eagle has landed” parker + already-gone-for-her hardison ,,, I love it here

- - - - -

(also, again I am reminded that there is a 250 text block limit so imma have to make a part two and apparently this is my life now)

[foxydivaxx]

The Mystery of the Black Rose Chapter 3

“Any updates so far?” Chief Inspector Kasali asks the Head of Forensics who had just wrapped up the autopsy on Wura.

“I performed a variety of tests using DNA samples and looked through past medical records discovered that this young lady has a history of severe mental health issues.”

“What sort of issues?”

“Wura was diagnosed with clinical depression years ago after she apparently skipped a month worth of classes during her secondary school years. Fearing for her safety, her mother took her to a therapist by the name of Phillipa George who prescribed the depressants that Wura kept on taking until her death.”

“So you mean to tell me that it is said medication that might have killed her?”

“A likely factor because that particular brand of depressant is quite strong and ideally should not be prescribed to young ladies like Wura.”

The Inspector nods. “Looks like I will have to pay this doctor a visit soon. Might also need to have a word with the mother later because if this is the case, then Wura’s case isn’t exactly suicide. We have a potential murder case here.”

Doctor Uche nods. “I also believe that you need to interview Wura’s friends as well. They might give some insight into the family as well.” He suggests. Kasali nods and walks out.

His mind is filled with disgust. So that woman actually killed her daughter indirectly! This is madness!!

Violeta lets out a little groan as she awakens from her deep slumber. A seething pain causes her to stay put on the bed. All that crying and screaming certainly did not help her case either. She sighs as she slowly turns her head, staring up at the large photo of her now deceased husband which she decided to hang in her room.

Every single day she stares at this very picture as it reminds her of her single greatest failure; the failure to save her husband in the nick of time.

Heck, the same thing that she did to her husband was the exact same thing that caused Wura’s death. Guilt overtakes her as her thoughts overwhelm her.

I…I really did kill my daughter….

That forces her to jump off the bed as she slowly begins to panic. “What do I do? What the hell do I do? How can I cope with this pain? This guilt!! Ah!! Violeta see your life!! You have ruined your child’s life, eh?!”

The woman slumps onto the floor and begins to weep again. “Gboyega my beloved husband. If you desire to haunt me for my sins now. Then go ahead and just do it!!”

Meanwhile in Bisola’s room, the woman groans and twists and turns as a nasty dream unfolds. In said dream, Bisola finds herself in a dark forest. There was no one around. Just her. “Hello?”

Her voice echoes throughout the forest but no response. She takes some slow steps as she ventures deep into the heart of the forest, trying to figure out how she got there.

At that moment, she sees a familiar looking raven-haired figure dressed in a white gown. She jumps up in fright.

“W-Wura!!”

The girl in question slowly turns her head, a murderous look in place. “Why Bisola!! Why did you and Mummy do this to me?!! Tope was always better than you idiots because he cared more than me?!! You people also ruined that poor boy’s life!!”

“N-No Wura….you misunderstand…”

“YOU ARE LYING AS USUAL!!”

A knife magically materializes in Wura’s hand as she walks towards her sister who screams and runs for it. She trips over a tree branch. “You are finished!!”

Bisola screams as she is forced to wake up.

“Bisola what happened?” Bisola turns around to see her mother. “I... I am fine. Just a terrible nightmare.”

Violeta sighs and walks over to her. “I understand that you are still trying to come to terms with your sister’s death.” Bisola simply nods, not wanting to speak any further. “Uhm…l-let us go get something to eat.”

“I am not feeling hungry today. Guess her death really affects me.” Says Violeta. Bisola puts on a fake smile. “Then let me go prepare some tea for you.” She then gets off her bed and heads downstairs to the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Violeta simply shakes her head. “This girl is not even concerned about her sister. Like ah hah!!”

Just then, Violeta’s phone vibrates. She picks up the phone and sees a text which read:

No matter how perfect you try to be, your sins will one day destroy you,

You ruined the life of your children and your husband and yet,

You get to have a happy ending? No way!! No way in hell!!

Because it is not just your family that you destroyed,

You have also harmed others beyond your family and you bloody know it!!

Violeta is taken aback by this. “Who the hell is sending this message?” No. Best not to tell any of the kids. Especially that Tope.