#might go back and make tweaks tomorrow but i did the thing

[goodluckclove]

How Clove Gardener Writes (an Overview)

I definitely told myself when I started this blog a billion years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, that I wouldn't make any attempt to tell you how to write. You know - other than saying just do it do the thing write it close the blog open the document type type three sentences bam look you did it good job i love you now go get yourself a treat.

But I've spoken to a few writers who seem to benefit from the insight of me just explaining how I write. So I thought I'd give a little peek into my own mindset. I cannot stress enough that this is what works for me. It's a methodology that I've built up over the course of like fifteen years of trying different things, keeping what works, and throwing the rest right out the goddamned window.

If any of this seems new and appealing give it a try. If it doesn't help I'm wrong and bad as a person (no I'm kidding but seriously if it doesn't work that's fine and we're both fine). If it helps you owe me a picture of a frog drawn from memory.

Let's see how long I ramble. Follow me under the read more!

Okay, so let's get this out of the way. I've never taken a writing class. No, that's not true. I took one when I was thirteen and another one in high school and I don't remember anything either of them taught me. Oh and I took an online creative writing class in college, but I also didn't retain anything and the next year I dropped out of college. So I also don't have a degree in jack shit.

What else? I don't outline. I've written upwards of 15 novels (13-15, I honestly can't remember) and I did not outline any of them. This includes character sheets and worldbuilding lore. My first published novel Blind Trust was born from the concept of the Lover's Knot, which is just like some witchy magic lore. I thought it would be cool so I was like "who could maybe be some guys" and then I introduced some guys and then bam 180k later it was Scott and Edgar.

I do virtually no preparation to write a novel other than the vaguest premise and maybe like one cool scene. I did not have a cool scene for Blind Trust, but I do have one for Migration Patterns. What I don't have is an ending. I don't think I've ever written a novel knowing how it ends.

Literally here's what I do. This is all I do. I sit down and I write until I don't know what's going to happen next, at which point I step away and I listen to some music or I go to the museum or I take a nap until I decide how to continue. That's it.

For me it's going to the zoo every day and seeing the monkeys. And every day they're doing something different. Sometimes they're sleeping, or they're pawing at each other, or they're gathering sticks. I can call out to them and offer to show them a card trick or share my Bugles with them, and they might come up to the wall of the enclosure to see what I'm doing. Or they might not. I do not really have control of the situation, but it doesn't matter because they aren't fully aware of me.

At some point either I have to leave the zoo for some reason. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe the monkeys have been pulled in to be fed their lunch (it's bananas and peanuts). Either way I add that day's behavior to the pile and then come back tomorrow.

Once I find an ending I go back and I read through the book again and trim any fat that's in the wrong places while adding flesh to some naked bones. Then I wait a week or more (usually I can only wait a week) and go back and do it again. By that point it's ready to hopefully have someone read it, after which I make small edits and tweaks.

That's how I do it. Or at least, that's how I do it for longform prose projects that I plan to publish. I've written plenty of novels that just stayed first drafts because I didn't feel like revising them and then I moved on to the next one. I don't regret that. I don't consider it a waste of time.

I would never consider a trip to the zoo a waste of time.

Anyways, that's what works for me. I don't know if all of this will apply to other brains. I don't know if any of it will. I figure it might just be useful to get an in-depth look at what I personally vibe with.

I'm so down to talk writing at any time, by the way. I love to do it. Tell me why you aren't writing and I would be happy to listen and try to help. Or just brainstorm. Seriously, my DMs and inbox are perpetually open. Talking about writing is one of my favorite things to do.

Let's go look at some monkeys together.

[munariplans]

your writing is remarkable. saw you were open to doing drabbles for the chaos makes the muse series so i wondering if we can see something about natasha and reader as parents? how many kids did they end up having?

hi anon,

so sorry for the delayed response! i am open to drabbles and requests, and i've written a peek into natasha and reader's lives as parents in this fic below, hope it answers your questions and enjoy!

i would also like to preface that while this is related to chaos makes the muse, you can absolutely read it without having read / completed the series :)

The final lap ensues, your eldest son a tenth of a second slower than the go-kart in front of him, and you sighed. Putting your hands together in a silent prayer, you hoped with all your might that he might be able to pull an early exit into one of the turns, cutting off his only opponent and retaking the lead in the race.

The karts whizzed past the stands, your hair followed in the wind. Each kart’s engine the only loud noises in the air as everyone watched the race with bated breath. Your phone was ringing; probably a note from your secretary. You quickly switched it off as the final turn before the chequered flag appeared for the karts.

Nicholas didn’t make it to first.

Still, you rushed over with the rest of the parents to where the karts were coming in slowly and parking, and quickly found your son with his head down, still sitting in his kart as celebrations for first place rang through the air.

“Hey, there’s my champion,” you kneeled down to his level, smiling as you helped him remove his helmet. “You did your best, and Mama and I are so proud of you.”

“I didn’t win,” was all he said before engulfing you in a hug, soaking your jacket with tears he refused to show anyone else. It reminded you of Natasha’s own habit of doing so, and you only hugged him tighter.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reassured, walking him to the small podium, “It doesn’t matter to me, or to your Mama. There’s always the next race, and the next. We’ll tweak your engine together, so you go even faster, and we’ll review your data together too. You are forever my pride, Nicholas, losing one race isn’t going to change that.”

–

On the drive home, as Nicholas fell asleep in your passenger seat hugging his second-place trophy, you received a text from Natasha at home.

Are you on the way home? I gave up on Nathaniel’s maths homework, by the way, I need you.

You smiled to yourself at the text, shaking your head and turning your attention back to the road in hopes that you would arrive home faster.

–

“Mama, we’re homeee!” Nicholas’ mood was considerably lighter as he passed the threshold of your home, proudly showing off his trophy. But alas, Natasha was not in the living room as he had expected, nor was she in the kitchen or anywhere in his vision. Natasha always greeted the both of you home after Nicholas’ karting races, so you knew only one thing must have happened.

You rubbed the boy’s back comfortingly, and directed him to place his trophy along with all his others on the shelf. “Mama’s probably asleep, sweetheart. You know how tired she is these days, your little sister’s not giving her the easiest time.”

At his pout, you knelt down to his height again. “Hey, you can still show her your trophy tomorrow, I’m sure she would be just as excited. How about I make you a box of mac-and-cheese and we can share it without her knowing? I say that’s a fantastic way to celebrate, yeah?”

You were engulfed right into another hug as he smiled into your neck; another one of Natasha’s little quirks.

–

With Nicholas settled in at the dining table and tucking into his bowl of mac-and-cheese (that Natasha had always disapproved of you making for the boys), you snuck into your younger son’s room, the lights still on.

Nathaniel was clearly in over his head, his ginger hair a mess and balls of crumpled paper scrawled with maths equations strewn across the floor. He had fallen asleep on his desk, and your heart squeezed at the fact that he had to wait for so long before you came to the rescue.

You slowly shook him awake. “Nathan, I’m home.”

Opening his eyes blearily, Nathaniel leaned his head against your shoulder as you took the papers from underneath him, shaking the drool on them dry.

“You smell like your office’s air freshener, yuck.”

You tipped his head playfully. “Been there since eight this morning, bud. Didn’t have time to change before I had to go for your brother’s race in the evening. Now I’m here doing your homework with you.”

“Don’t you get tired?” He yawned as you began scanning the questions.

Truthfully, a wave of fatigue had long past swept through your bones; even in the stands watching Nicholas race, even as you entered the office that morning. With Natasha set to deliver your daughter any day now, coupled with Nathaniel’s exams approaching and Nicholas’ races, you truly felt like you were drowning most days. To top it all off, business was booming; clients were streaming in by the dozens most days, and you rarely even had time to breathe between waking up and going back to bed for the past few weeks.

But you only smiled at your son, and came back with, “And if I do, what am I supposed to do? Stop working?”

“Yeah, and spend time playing more video games with me.”

“And who’s going to be able to afford to buy those games for you, kid? Your brother’s racing career, your mother’s shopping sprees, even your baby sister’s shopping sprees when she’s born and older, I need to work so you guys can keep having these things.”

He gave a non-committal grunt. A sign for you to bring his attention back to the papers in front of the both of you. “Let’s start, shall we? I promise we can steal your brother’s leftover mac-and cheese if we can finish this by midnight.”

–

By the time both boys were tucked into bed and snoring softly into their pillows, you knew you were about two seconds away from dropping dead onto the ground with exhaustion. Shuffling your feet to your shared bedroom with Natasha, you barely made out the shape of her figure before collapsing onto your side of the bed, your eyelids begging to close themselves.

But it was the soft drawl in her voice that woke you up. “You’re home already, baby?”

“Been home since seven, darling, had to make Nicholas dinner and finish up the rest of Nathaniel’s homework.”

At your confession, Natasha sat up, guilt coursing through her at her dismissal of you returning home and doing so much with the boys. Lately, it felt like the ‘team effort’ she had promised you would come with more children had been more solo on your end, regardless how many times you reminded her that she was busy growing a third human within her herself, and it could not compare to the amount of stress she was putting her own body in.

Her hands found themselves carding through your hair, and you shifted further up to lie across her legs. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“For what?”

“For not being there. You were in the office so early today, you had to do so much work, and then having to be there for Nicholas’ race and taking care of Nathaniel after, too. It’s so much,” Natasha found a lump in her throat that she was unable to swallow.

Instead, you shook your head, merely reaching out for her hand and rubbing your thumb over hers lovingly. “All part of the process, love. Please don’t feel guilty about this. Besides, I enjoy spending time with the boys, and letting you rest.”

You could sense your wife was still apprehensive, so you reached into your pocket and pulled out your mobile phone, in hopes of distracting her mind. “Look, Nicholas got second place in the race today. Kid was a bit disappointed, but you can see how well he drove.”

Natasha began watching the clip of Nicholas’ final lap in the race, one hand resting over her bump affectionately as she smiled at her eldest. Getting up from your own position, you noticed the legs you had been lying on were incredibly swollen, and you cursed internally at the fact you had been neglecting your wife in exchange for caring for your sons, too.

So when she physically let out soft pants and happy moans once you started massaging her feet, Natasha had to drop the phone and put a pillow over her face in embarrassment once she caught your grin at her. “Baby, you’re exhausted…please…”

“Nonsense,” you assured, “Anything for you. And anything to hear more of those amazing sounds too, please, love. They’re music to my ears.”

You were met with an eye roll and a laugh that alleviated any shred of tiredness you thought you had earlier. Everything was worth it, for her. –

Natasha thought you were dead to the world in your slumber, seeing the day you had and the pent-up stress and exhaustion accumulated of taking care of her, and the boys. You rightfully deserved to be, as she watched your features, asleep beside her with an imaginary ‘best parent in the world’ crown she imagined on your head. Her heart squeezed with how much she knew you loved and sacrificed for the boys and her.

But she had to wake you, unfortunately. There was no other option.

So when you felt her hands shaking you awake and rolling over to check that it was only half past three in the morning, you groaned at having to be awake so early. “Yes, Nat?”

“My water broke.”

She had said it so calmly, almost serene, that you would have found it almost unbelievable had her voice not been the only thing filling the white noise in the room. Then, as if you couldn’t hear her the first time, she reinforced, “Baby’s coming.”

You were up with a start, still half-hazy with details, but mind alert and screaming at you to do something. You had been through this twice, a third shouldn’t be a surprise at that point.

With the hospital bag packed by the door, Yelena on her way to babysit the boys until the morning, and your hair finally combed enough to a civilised hairstyle, you turned back to Natasha, slowly waddling down the stairs.

“How are you so calm?” You asked, rushing forward to help carry her, despite her protests at such.

Once her feet were back on the ground, she squeezed your shoulder just a little too rough, and her eyes shut in pain. “Am…not. But it’s the only thing I can do to keep the pain manageable. Can we please drive to the hospital, now?”

–

“A little more, love, just a little more.”

“I’ll fucking break your neck once we’re done if you dare say that to me again!”

At Natasha’s scream, and the threatening words pinned against you, you kept your mouth shut, instead choosing to recline a little in the stiff plastic chair the operating team gave you, in hopes that it would also alleviate the pain from your hand getting crushed under her grip.

You leaned your forehead against your wife’s, and tried to focus on the arrival of your daughter, and not how much pain she was putting Natasha through currently.

Finally, with the last push from Natasha, and both of her hands crushing the bones on one of yours together, the baby was out, and it was the moment that you knew you had just fallen in love with your daughter. It had happened twice before, but never the same.

–

Bags under your eyes, shoulders sinking in on themselves, Natasha knew you had the telltale signs of burnout and exhaustion written all over your features. But as she watched you bent over the small bassinet the hospital had wheeled your daughter in, a hint of a smile on your face watching her interact with her first few moments in the world, she knew that you would have given up everything, risked it all and more, for this moment to happen.

All those years ago, when she had met you at the club, when she merely knew you as the broken, fragile lawyer with an ego bigger than the sky itself, she found it hard to believe she could witness your growth to now, the very best parent you could be to her three children. Sacrificing each weekend to tune up Nicholas’ go-kart and coaching him for races, coming home each night to help Nathaniel with his homework, and then having to deal with her mood swings, pregnancy hormones, and all sorts of aches you had to massage and sort out, she wondered if she really had gotten so lucky at times; or if it was all just a dream for her. You were patient with the boys, and her, you were kind, you never complained. You were everything she had always wanted.

Natasha almost said something; she started, but couldn’t find it in herself to finish. She called out your name, and said, “I…”

You looked up at her, and the words caught in her throat. “Yes?”

“I…”

“Mummy! Mama!” For the first time in a long while, Natasha heard the two boys’ voices in unison, cutting through your small moment as they rushed into the room, followed by a very haggard-looking Yelena behind.

“Gentle, gentle, boys! What did I tell you?” Yelena’s voice sounded like the boys had taken ten years off her life. At her state, Natasha saw you grinning too, and thanked her quietly for being able to come and babysit at such short notice. “Now move, I want to see my niece, too!”

Making space on the bed for Nicholas and Yelena to sit beside her, along with you at the foot of the bed with Nathaniel on your shoulders, Natasha cradled the newest addition to her family lovingly, her elder brothers already cooing and fighting over who gets to hold her first.

Her eyes met yours, and the words that were stuck came rushing back. She wanted to mouth I love you.

You smiled back at her, and when Yelena brought the boys down later on to grab a snack, you said it right back, your daughter in your arms this time. “I love you too.”

“Mm, enough to give me a fourth child?”

You looked up to her in panic, and at the expression on your face, Natasha found it hard to keep her own serious, as she burst out in giggles. “I was kidding.”

“Respectfully, my love,” you replied, “If this baby is not our last, I don’t think I am going to even live until I see forty.”

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplay Ramblings: New Elements part 3

(art by BiagoDAlessandro on DeviantArt, as featured in Numenera by Monte Cook Games)

Character Options

So I’ve talked at length about what the new elemental planes are and what they mean, but now it’s time to get to the nitty-gritty and actually apply them to 1st edition, starting with the character options that players will actually be playing as in either the modern Lost Omens setting minus the edition change or in your own setting where you include these elements.

The first we have to focus on is new ancestries. While they are heritages in 2e, that doesn’t change the fact that we have two new geniekin planar scions running around, either being super rare individuals that lived before the re-emergence, members of bloodlines that spontaneously awakened to their ancestral heritage when the planes came back, or those that were born afterwards in the normal ways that planar scions typically gain their heritages.

These two ancestries are the ardande and talos, for wood and metal respectively, and since they were never mentioned in 1st edition you will have to homebrew them (or, you know, use the homebrew I made of them if you like). Thankfully pretty much every planar scion ancestry follows a similar sort of template for what abilities they get, with room for variant heritages and alternate traits, so you’ll have a decent starting position to work from. Additionally, consider that suli might also start drawing from those elements as well, though likely this will be more of a vibe thing as metal probably best evokes electricity or sonic if you can get away with it, while wood’s best energy type comparison is probably acid as a stand-in for poison.

Classes may have to be updated as well. However, there is a lot of ground already covered here , with wizards, oracles, and shamans all getting schools, mysteries, and spirits respectively centered around these aspects. Meanwhile, sorcerers and bloodragers could easily have the elemental bloodlines updated with metal and wood as options, as well as genie bloodlines for Zhura and Khizidar genies as well.

On a more minor note, having four new elemental lords means four new deities for your divine casters to play around with, requiring homebrewing for their domain, subdomain, and even potentially obedience lists.

Additionally, you may consider tweaking the kineticist to have a separate metal element like I did, as well as maybe slightly rework certain talents or talent lists. And for that matter don’t forget to tweak various other minor elemental options with other classes, such as the elementalist shifter, elemental rager, and so on.

Of course, we would be remiss to not talk about the various new elemental spells in Rage of the Elements, many of which explore the applications of the new elements, all of which makes for lovely conversion fodder. Of course, Rage of the Elements was the first hardback that uses the new Remastered paradigm for spellcasting. (And even then, original 2e had a slightly different interpretation of what spells belonged to which schools, but as long as you have a good understanding of what each First Edition school is meant to cover, you should have any trouble deciding which spell goes where. Also, while the elemental wizard schools do exist, they might need an update or trimming based on what each element represents in the new paradigm if you wanna go that far.

Even with such a brief summary as this, we can see the work that has been done and the work left to do for bringing these new elements into play in First Edition. However, tomorrow we’ll look into the more GM-side of things with new elemental monsters these planes provide, as well as more generally how elementals work between editions. Look forward to it!

[helloiamadrawer]

Kinger 👑 Tweaking CRACK HEADCANONS

triggers/warnings: drugs (weed in general nothing too hard) cigarettes, mainly kinger just trying to cope from all the shit going on in the digital circus DON'T DO DRUGS PEOPLE

A/N: THESE ARE ONLY CRACK HEADCANONS I LOVE KINGER TO DEATH ISTG (BUT NOT MORE THAN CAINE THOUGH)

First things first, where did he get the drugs from? well, it's easy Zooble's room but it's actually in her endless box of spare parts she puts on her and we know SOMETHING has to have a stash of hiding somewhere.

Caine would definitely waste his time doing this if he knew Zooble had drugs but shhhh..we'll pretend he's dumb for one day okay?

Kinger has been having rougher times at the digital circus more than usual, plus the lingering paranoia of abstracting like Kaufmo on top of that just makes it worse for his mental state. He just needs to find something new to do instead of Caine's insane adventures. So what does he do? Go to Zooble's room for advice.

"Well, I was going to give this to you at a later time if you were reallly going over the edge but you do not tell a single soul about this. Caine will throw us in the cellar for a year and a year goes very slow in the digital world." she threatened as she slides him a small bag of weed and some pieces of paper . Kinger blankly stares at the pouch and just says, "oh."

He shoves it in his robe pocket and heads back to his room. He lays it out on his bed and ponders about if he should do it now or tomorrow.

Next morning, he decides to try it after another treacherous adventure, tired, he takes a palm full of the chopped cannabis and rolls it up in the paper like a joint. Mans was really doing this but hey, beats anything but getting abstracted. In the middle of the night, he knocks on Zooble's door, she grumpily opens it and sees the chess piece holding out the joint to her as he asks, "Do you have a source of fire to light this?"

"Oh, i forgot about that, come on in, I gotta find a lighter anyway in my box so it may take a minute." she whispers until she closes the door behind Kinger. She pops out her normal arm and her claw arm holds it as she inserts it into the Zooble Box, searching for her lighter.

Should he really be doing this? I mean doing drugs never really existed to Kinger until Zooble came around, he was just collecting insects and hanging out in his pillowfort, but thats when the day Pomni came in and then Kaufmo got abstracted and after that day he feared of himself becoming like that so nothing really took his mind off it.

Maybe I should leave, I can try and find something else

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

Zooble's triumphant outburst made Kinger almost jump out of his robe. "AH! Zooble, you found the lighter, good.". She flicks the lighter switch and lights up Kinger's joint as a line of smoke puffs out from it.

"Now, you can't leave my room with that, Caine will find out what we're doing if he sees this, so take a hit..you'll know exactly how I deal with this bullsh$t around here a little bit more easier." Zooble states as she rolls up a joint and lights it for herself.

Kinger stares at the nowlit doobie and takes a puff from it...

PART 2 will be in effect for later and it's going to be angsty and it'll be my first angst piece of headcanons so it might take a while, see y'all soon!!

[moonshine-nightlight]

Will all of Dale out, I took the time over the past few days to reread all of it (pretty much all I did because sleep work and eat!) And oh man, I wish I could experience it anew again! To see how far you as a writer had come during the entirely of this, and seeing how sana and Dale grew and changed together.. it was just so well done!

Do you have plans to visit them again, in the future? Couldn't help but notice some things were left unfinished ;) and also I would LOVE to hear certain parts of the story from Dale's perspective. Those last few chapters when we finally *finally* got to peer into who he really is just made me want more!

And again, thank you for all the time and effort you put into this series. I don't think I'll ever forget it! (I also really like some of your shorter series, I went back to read them again too!)

@watch-out-for-them

thanks for sending this in! that's so sweet! i've hoarded this for a month because december flew by so fast

i do have some idea for little bonus stories and for full stories that take place in the same universe/setting (with a name-drop or mention of Dale and Sana etc), but no proper sequel is currently planned. One of the bonuses would be what you mentioned - specifically Chapter 6 (Walk in the Garden) from Dale's POV - as well as other ideas. it is hard to write companions stories from another POV if the main POV is 2nd person lol. I've helpful sorted my handful or ideas into categories because i lov to organize in excel instead of writing (the categories are: pre, mid, & post story; AU; Parody; and Outside POV)

one in particular i wanted to get out before the year ended, but i'm not quite done with it. originally after Chapter 24 (Assassin Aftermath) Sana was going to have a spicy dream about Dale, which is referenced in Chapter 25 as having happened, but which was originally going to be in the story proper. however, not only was a behind in writing with the story ending up longer than i planned, but it became hard to figure out how it would work since Sana thought Dale knew but he didn't and i didn't want be to get confused about that, also Sana wouldn't know the truth of how the Depths worked or Dale's backstory so i couldn't include much of that (because i didnt want ppl to think Dale could lik dreamwalk etc or something). It jsut got to be a weird balancing act that i didnt have time to figure out so i didn't. however, i decided to make a bonus/AU divergence where I changed the fight scene and did have Dale come to talk to Sana after the fight alone and stuff~ happens~.

this side path/AU story is what i wanted to get out over the holidays and which i have made progress on, but still isn't finished. i will try to get it out within the week (the modified end-of-fight to have an obvious reveal is done and i might put out today or tomorrow since its just a tweaked chapter 23). I've got over 3k for the new chapter and have been making progress, it just will not be done today lol

thank you so much for reading and sending in this ask! getting messages and comments and tags like this make all the effort worth it! ^^

[becomingkatie]

I spent the holiday in the kitchen baking all day. I made english muffins to use up sourdough discard, and I made Kenny grill brats so I could have an excuse to try making hot dog buns. Not pictured, I also prepped a high hydration boule to bake either tomorrow or Sunday.

Long-winded baking summary below the cut.

English muffins were up first. The discard, flour, and milk were mixed together the night before. Even though it was discard, sitting for that long woke it back up so there was a nice dough in the morning. Then added salt, honey, and baking soda, rested the dough, then cut into rounds and rested again before cooking. I made some mistakes here - namely, not putting enough cornmeal down to keep the dough from sticking to the counters, so when I went to pick up the rounds to cook them they became deformed and I had a rough time. Also, having the skillet too hot at first. They came out a bit tough. I don't buy english muffins regularly so I couldn't tell you how they compare to store-bought, but I'm medium-happy with them. Before bed I scrambled some eggs with cheese and baked them to cut into squares and pre-make breakfast sandwiches to freeze and reheat later.

After the english muffins were done, I had about two hours until my starter was nearing its peak and it was time to make the two recipes using active starter - hot dog buns and a plain ol' loaf of bread. The bread calls for an autolyse, mixing just the flour and water first and letting it sit a while to start the gluten formation before you add in the starter, so the gluten is already formed when the yeast in the starter begins to consume the sugars and produce the gases that will be contained by the gluten and raise the bread. (I think that's how it works?) So I mixed up my flour and water, set my timer, and then raced to get the hot dog bun dough ready before I had to do more stuff with my regular bread dough.

The buns came out feeling a little dense. Also ugly, but that part's less important. The recipe uses both active starter and commercial yeast, but my yeast was really old and may not have been A+, and I may have baked them a little long. Anyway, just like with the english muffins, medium-happy.

The regular bread was making me so happy all day long. During its bulk fermentation stage every time I came by and stretched and folded it to promote gluten development it was just the best texture and so beautiful. But then I went to pre-shape and shape it and it was... a wet pile of mush that did not want to be a ball at all. I basically slopped it into the banneton and now it's in the fridge for a 2-3 day cold proof. My goal there is to get a nice sour flavor. The longer proof is supposed to help with that. But I'm anxious I under-did the bulk ferment trying to keep it on the shorter side since I'm doing a long cold proof. I don't know. Sourdough is one of those things that can be so easy and simple, or you can get really precious about it and try to make everything perfect, and it's still just a tasty loaf of bread. I really want to be able to bake sourdough with a higher water content to get a thinner crust and increase its shelf life, but it's definitely harder to do this higher hydration loaf than my typical "go-to, just need to get a loaf of bread on the table" loaf.

I have a journal where I take notes during my bread baking. I note the ingredients, process, timing of everything. Kitchen temperature. Impressions throughout (how the dough was feeling in my hands at the different stages, how much rise in both proofs, etc.) and then results at the end, and what variables I might want to tweak for the next bake. I can't have a hobby without also turning it into a lab report, I guess! We'll see how this one turns out over the weekend. In the meantime, it's time for me to go eat one of those breakfast sandwiches.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update May 10, 2024

Today was a bad day but the rest of the week was decent all things considered. I got an okay amount of work done, but I’m still really exhausted from school. It might take a bit longer to rest but I’m still trying to do stuff because I’m addicted to work.

Main thing this week was comic work, I’d say I’m 14% done, planning to be better and faster once I’m better rested, I’m going to try to do all panels on the same layer as opposed to a billion layers like before, see if it speeds things up. I’m pretty confident in the story and want to get to writing more but that’s not as high a priority as some other projects.

Music video work, OEB is about 30% boarded, it’s very exhausting to do because of adobe’s interface but it still gets done well enough when I’m in a good mood. I wanted to get making a puppet rig this week, hoping it’d go faster now that I know what I’m doing, especially since I’ve gotten basic ones done faster, but again didn’t have time due to body needing to rest and personal problems. I’ll try again next week, since it looks like work is taking longer than expected to get started back up. I’m also a lot better at rig animation in general now so it should be quicker to do too.

Other music projects, I’m very close to done on one of the two lyric batches so I’ll try to get that done this next week. I’d like to finish off the other one too but I’m very slow. Once my body is rested up enough for my brain to really work those will be the priority, then I’d like to do more. I’ll probably do another cover or so before anything else but I’d really like to do songs based around my OC stories, and maybe I will. At the very least attempting will be a nice exercise.

Other general drawings, I’m trying to figure out when I’ll have time to do more. I’m taking a fair amount of time on each of those now, which sucks since I’ll have to up my comm prices, but I don’t want to push for those until I know exactly how much to change the prices by. I’m not a professional so I don’t want to charge like one.

Anime Campaign stuff: writing my own campaign still, got a huge bite of that done, but not the part I would have wanted. Planning on seven ‘Episodes’, 1, 2, 3, and now 5 are done. I might iron out some kinks with episode 1 but I really want to get episode 4 done before anything else. Might still get some tokens done, but I don’t want to post too many, since ideally I’d like to release my campaign as a prewritten module for free, then offer the maps and tokens as a paid optional add on. Maybe. Either way I need to focus on writing more than I have been, I’ll try to use my insomnia for that.

Minor bits and bobs, music writing impulse is coming back so I’d like to make or finish a little smaller tune, but again that relies on time and OEB and comic are taking priority. If I get BMBO or BATB lyrics done I’ll get tuning a VSQX (or whatever they’re called in vocaloid 5/6) and pass that so we can figure out which voice to use and any tweaks that need to be made. If BMBO is done before BATB I might look into typography animation to see if I can throw together a video for that, since that’ll be less effort than a full video. I’m also always tempted to do a bazillion covers, but I’m not really working towards any actively. The ones I’m debating would be called SSCS, ILMC, LIS or S (again going by initials or partial initials to not say too much). I did a basic VSQX for SSCS but mostly just to test how a certain voice tuned, and I know who I want to sing it but I don’t know what to do with the instruments so I’m not planning to work on it unless inspiration really hits. I have so much desire to do things and not enough body power!

Next week priority will be comic again, I have 4 pages done and one sketched, I’ll be maybe staying up late on Sunday again so I can get a big bite done then if I’m somehow unable tomorrow. OEB is next priority, alongside lyric writing, header/newgrounds collab, then AC writing and token practice. Thanks everyone for being so patient with me not posting much, I’m so sorry I’m so slow to work on bigger projects but I really hope they’re worth it.

[mythundermeme]

100 lyric starters

notes: feel free to tweak details to fit the muses. do not add to this list. other meme blogs, please don’t reblog. (content warning: sexual themes, violence, death, suicide)

"Tell me, does that sexy gown say what she's got in store for her man?"

"I thought you would always be there to hold."

"The longer i must wait for justice, I grow ever hungry in the cold."

"Take from them just what they took from me."

"It’s hard to see a future when your purpose is your past."

"Shoot to kill and live to last."

"If loneliness is prison, every touch is liberation."

"I know good deeds don’t guarantee a path to some salvation."

"I’ve reclaimed just what they took from me."

"What I'd give and what I'd trade for all your flickers, your flickers of the light."

"You're just a bunch of lies."

"Oh, I have run to the letters that you wrote me."

"Oh, help me sleep at night."

"The morning fog and waking sun have healing ways."

"Gave up our lives just to find that it was not enough."

"Hope has no place here."

"Maybe the end we tried to avoid is already here."

"Some evil will never ever die."

"Even if it's in broken speech, I want you to tell me your pain."

"Pretending that the pain's worn off doesn't make you an adult."

"You're so precious to me it almost brings me to tears."

"All I fear means nothing."

"My heart's a battleground."

"You know that you're my super star."

"No one else can take me this far."

"You're giving me too many things lately. You're all I need."

"Don't get me wrong, I love you. But does that mean I have to meet your father?"

"Wish I could prove I love you, but does that mean I have to walk on water?"

"Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on."

"That's right, I heard the story. Don't really like how it ends."

"Did you think all this time that I wouldn't find out about you?"

"I'm the loser of the game you didn't know you were playing."

"It used to feel like a fairy tale, now it seems we were just pretending."

"Let's just live day by day and not be conquered by our sorrows."

"Can we get back to a happy place? We've suffered so much pain and sorrow."

"People make a history by threading the threads of love into it."

"We're the same, you and me."

"Love's the choice we made."

"Death can't bind our endless story."

"Pain is your reward for being near me."

"I am no one's blessing, I'll just bring you harm."

"Brother, you're safe now."

"Don't try to make yourself remember, darling."

"When I'm better, we'll do everything."

"I gotta stop making promises I can't keep."

"But if I was gone tomorrow, won't the waves crash on?"

"I told you to forget me, but you stayed by my side."

"I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in."

"Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly."

"Your clothes might be dirty and covered with blood but i’ll still have a hot meal here waiting."

"Your heart is a safe place for others to land."

"You have two hands made to raise others up, and you have two clear eyes to see others with love."

"I’ll always be holding your heart and your hand."

"Without regret, I’d offer up my life."

"I would fly into the sun if that would keep our dream alive ."

"I will fight for you, no matter how I am despised ."

"No sleep until I'm done with finding the answer."

"I've been living for tomorrows all my life."

"They say that I must learn to kill before I can feel safe."

"I'd rather kill myself than turn into their slave."

"Feel me, touch me, heal me."

"Pretty little flower, won't you sit back down and go play nice?"

"My, oh my, look at who ends up bigger this time."

"Keep talking, keep laughing. One day you'll see what happens."

"Bury your doubts under the ground."

"Know I'm all bite, no bark."

"I'll stay so deep inside your brain and take you somewhere far away."

"Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind?"

"Never had a soul, so you ain't taking anything from me when you go."

"A man learns who is there for him when the glitter fades and the walls won't hold."

"What are you willing to lose?"

"You're out of time, make your move."

"Kiss your perfect day goodbye."

"I had one thing, and you've taken it from me."

"You sent me back to nothing."

"Your best stuff looks like my worst."

"You look like you could use some more."

"What’s higher than the top? That's me."

"Wanna leave this hell, take me out, please."

"I’ll show you what I’m made of, rise to the occasion."

"You know your own worth very wel."

"You're not suited for the rage of war."

"Gonna break rules and hearts in twos."

"Only took a minute for me to get what you had."

"Way that I look should be breakin' the law."

"You know that I love the sound of applause."

"Sorry not sorry for bein' the best."

"I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you."

"Don't wanna let you down, but I am hell-bound."

"Your eyes, they shine so bright. I wanna save that light."

"I can't escape this now, unless you show me how."

"Why would you dare me to do it again?"

"Don't ever say it's over if I'm breathin'."

"They said I wouldn't make it out alive, they told me I would never see the rise."

"Why worship legends when you know that you can join 'em?"

"You stood me up, who do you think you are?"

"Now it hurts to meet your gaze."

"Nobody showed me how to return the love you give to me."

"I never wanted to ever bring you down."

"You touched my body once, it burns me still softly."

[kaladinstormsblessed]

i am in boston which means i am nearly home! scotland was good but i am. exhausted mentally physically and emotionally. since april 24th i have returned to pa, gotten violently sick with a stomach bug, taught my silly little pompeii class, attended more end of semester events than i thought possible, socialized so much, started working in the library again, agonized over my conference paper, gave my conference paper, and spent 10 days in scotland. i am ready to. calm down and relax, especially since things will be picking up soon. i think my dad's death is finally starting to set in (my mom and younger sister are on a vacation that they had planned with him and my mom said he had actually seemed excited about it and was making plans for it, which he rarely did) and june is going to be a rough month (in 18 days, my dad's birthday, father's day, and my parent's anniversary) in addition to my regular summertime sadness etc. the exhaustion is really existential and bone deep at this point - i'm so tired and yet i have so much work to do. so i'm going to try and keep! it! simple! i give myself permission to be sort of a hermit for the next several days as i recover (except for therapy tomorrow :/ and maybe sunday bc m did offer to do something for my dad's birthday). i think i will use tomorrow as a reset day - therapy in the morning then laundry and maybe groceries/cooking. i may then sneak into campus bc i want to see if i can set myself up in a different study space on campus - our library is open stupid hours this summer and so i want to see if i can find another place to work. i will unfortunately want to move all of my stuff 🙃 after that, it's down to work.

prelim stuff

focus needs to be on finishing my notecards and essays. sacrifice is in pretty good shape, so it's really the other three: need to add some stuff to my homer essays and finish going through both commentaries for all seven books; need to tweak my pompeii essays; and then need to finish my flash cards for jerome. i will then want to spend a little bit of time each day studying.

i am also eyeing the possibility of renting a place in like. maine or connecticut while i'm taking my exams. this may be literally impossible but i want to explore the option. it would be so nice to be unreachable and have a nice little place on the water somewhere cool.... august is such a disgusting month.

diss stuff

going to ease into this! will reread all the letters in english and make a reference doc with notes and decide which to tackle in the latin first. i should also go back and look at my prelim notes for this and start getting some questions rolling. i need to remind myself that i only have two months since august will be all prelims. goal is to have something to my advisor when i touch base and confirm my prelims in early july and then right before i dig into my exams in august. ideally this would be the bare bones of a proposal.

american school

ugh a whole lot here. need to confirm i can sublease my apartment and find someone to take my place (fingers crossed j has found someone for me). need to confirm that my birth certificate is getting its apostille. need to do a whole bunch of paperwork some of which is probably going to be late (i don't have a pcp like a clown...if i die i die). i also need to confirm my visa appointment and what all i need (big things will be my letter and my flight). i will also need to completely redo my wardrobe which i hate but it'll be a good excuse for me to get rid of a whole lot of shit. don't need to go too wild but need good hiking boots and pants etc.

professional development

my only goal here is to have something for oxford patristics since it only happens every four years. that abstract isn't due until the end of august and i'm hoping something will spark in my diss research. i can also tentatively look at the roman baths and agency conference although that might be a bit much. i also want to keep an eye on a couple other things. i realized that i count as a medievalist in some circles (which...why) but means i should keep an eye on imc and kalamazoo. i might also want to submit the paper i just presented to naps (the hard thing is i will be in greece and am unsure if i'll be able to get away - but it's probably worth applying for). also pay attention to vagantes and see if i qualify for that.

there's also a conference at penn june 20th-22nd that touches on a lot of my research interests (and has multiple people i know and/or are getting cited in my sacrifice prelim) that i should attend.

mlsn

python class starts next tuesday! i cannot forget that! i need to email and ask a couple questions but hopefully this will be a more relaxed class bc i will not be lecturing the whole time.

exercise

i need to start doing yoga again! maybe i'll start at 3x per week. i also want to do physical therapy and walk for 60 mins every day. this is tricky bc it's already so hot. doing it after dark makes sense but when i'm home i'm home. i want to try and start getting up early (like 5ish?) so early morning maybe? idk to think on.

other stuff

i am feeling very socialized and overstimulated so i need to make sure i don't completely bury myself in the sand here. i have an invite from one of the first years to grab ethiopian food next week and plans to work out daddy issues with a couple of other folks on father's day. and i should keep up with trivia and try and make sure bingo with s happens. i would also love to get down for a phillies game and some other fun stuff in the city! i can think about this more but rn it's okay if i ignore people for awhile! i am feeling very overwhelmed!

this is. a lot. but it'll be okay! i will be glad to be back home and getting into some sort of routine.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary12

getting better all the time. 9/16-17/2023

today was better than yesterday. yesterday i was so miserable because basically i realized that i was mixing everything with bad ears (the usual setup i was using was sapping a ton of low end, kind of shelf effect where everything around 100hz and below was super quiet and almost nonexistent) which leads to obvious overcompensation when mixing otherwise, bass and kicks too loud. so i had to go through, today, and figure out what was fucked up and what wasn't. less than you'd expect was fucked up, but i had to run through about 25 or more songs and then start a and b-ing things to see what was fine and what wasn't, but some stuff has really messed up mixes and that takes hours to unfuck, i don't know, like 5 songs about, 1 taking a bunch of my time today especially. this setup also sapped a lot of high end while also saturating the mix, so everything just sounds different now, some stuff sounds less clinky, and i need to get some kinds of distortion more right/see if i like putting saturation on the master. one song sounds alright with it, but will i feel that way tomorrow. another thing is it really messes with the vocal mixes. it's weird, because the mid-range is so favored in that setup by its nature i guess, it kind of begins to favor where the vocals and "guitars" sit in these songs, and so i mixed around that trying to get the vocals less emphasized and guitars more up front. this puts me in a weird place, because in this other setup which is just me getting my system audio, it's weirdly not favoring guitars, and the vocals are duller because of the lack of saturation and say, not cutting them too much in the lows. the vocals are an easier fix, i need to put a multiband on them and boost the highs, i did that to the songs that i've done vocals for recently to get the brighter/better. when i go to the old setup, it's really fucked up, because it pushes them up front even more, but if i swap in shitty earbuds on the system audio setup, it sounds a lot better to have the vocals pushed out of the mids a bit more than have them fully there, because it eats like every other sound on the song. maybe i'm just bad at mixing, if i were good, these things would sound serviceable in these other environments, but now i think i'm figuring that out now. i guess.

the guitars are either going to be really frustrating or i'll have a breakthrough. it makes me want to cry though. it's so strange because they both have more body and feel like they need some tweaking, more brightness maybe or saturation still, but they're so distorted already.

i think what i'm really getting hung up on is one song, a super short one, that i want to be more readable, so maybe i'll just kill myself doing that or something forever who knows. i'm already opening ableton again to try and get it right lol. i have been doing this since 1 pm today and now it's 1:37.

the reason this takes so long is cuz my computer sucks so bad it makes me want to give up or not really just makes me want to die.

okay and now another version of that same song is rendering and could you believe i am back here typing one who hour later. i spent maybe an hour and a half in the shower and around dinner (11 pm) i finally let myself take a break after finally getting what felt like a good amount done, but here i am, back again doing this. i am stupid and insane.

i still need to work on it. i think i can get it right it's just so difficult.

wwow more than 2 hours later still not where i want it but closer i think.

ok now it's 6 in the morning basically and i think i did it. i hope. i'm waiting on it to render but this should be it, i think.

yayayayayayay i think i have it and when i wake up tomorrow i think i'll like it and whatever needs to be done to it now is like at most moving the high pass on it up probably to remove some dullness but i want to hear it tomorrow to see if i'm crazy for thinking that might need to be done at all.

i'm so tired now i hate being up this late.

soon i will be happy with everything again i hope.

[dmcoffee]

Journal is packed away but I need brain clarity.

I think I am sitting pretty between panic and disassociation, so here's me whinging about the chaos to get it of my brain because I cannot find my journal atm.

So! RV's got hiccups. Some of this I expected. My range of solutions and subsequent picking of more mechanically minded individuals brains has netted me bumpkis atm. (Pretty sure there's an electrical issue. Alternator is my guess.) My tools are limited. My funds are limited at this precise moment. (And I have to make sure I'm careful about keeping gas money available so I can work.)

And I haven't been able to really get in there and so any work sealing up holes, because current elevation and lack of a ladder prevents me from monkeying all over it. Still missing two massive windows, rendering it unsafe to use for sleeping atm. And I cannot move it to work on it. I did run some primer on the inside and treated some of the wood pieces (I think I can get by on 1-2 small spackle cans here, the damage there is minor.)

Packing is slow and overwhelming. I think its emotional, but I'll bear it in mind next time I have to go see the doctor. Considering how much my other siblings are getting fascinating diagnosis's recently, there's a chance I too may be not as balanced as I could be with medication or some other accommodation.

Right now however, it's like pulling teeth. And I'm physically exhausted. Pretty sure I've managed to remember all the meals I need to eat. Have more going now because I felt hungry, so I'm trusting that. Also good way to get rid of perishables.

Technically I should be out tomorrow. IDK how the hell that's gonna look. There is still so. much. stuff. And only the van to put what I'm keeping into it.

This place needs to be cleaned too. I'm not sure I can let myself be petty enough to leave it as this guy's problem, even if he is a shit landlord.

I also think I might be getting sick. I'm hoping that this fatigue and that feeling in the back of my throat are all just from stress and allergies. I can't afford to get sick. (I'm an American, duh.)

The really crappy part is I might have to ask to stay at someone's for a while. With my cat...

I do not want to do that. Logically I know that even with it being a temporary thing, it's a big ask. And my friends have said that's a better alternative to me sleeping out of my car...I just feel incredibly frustrated and ashamed to have to reach out.

I've reviewed everything I know about what's happened, and aside from some minor tweaks, I don't think I could've avoided this outcome though...

The mental health had to be addressed. The meds were from my doctor. The side effects weren't caused by anything I did. And I physically could not keep up. My job hunt was long and difficult. I interviewed for the same position at the same store 3 times! And they're still "hiring.". (How???? The place was always packed with eager applicants too.) I wasn't being picky, I just picked whatever I could do that would cover my rent. Not enough.

I had 6 months put back for emergencies like this. It wasn't enough.

I partially paid the landlord and kept him in the loop. (Something he didn't do for me, I might add.)

And then when I looked into what to do once he gave me my two weeks, I lucked into the RV deal. Because rent's too high or with unknown roommates. (Bonus points for them being college guys. I'm don't want to room with guys I don't know. Did ask 1 person I knew, but we couldn't make that happen.)

All in all? It all makes sense. It all sucks. And at most I could've...applied more than just 10 apps per day? That's it, I think...

Yet I still feel guilty, like I didn't do enough, because that's how I was taught you're supposed to think of people. If you can't see them burning themselves out first, then they clearly aren't trying, and are probably just mooches and manipulators. (Ironically, I can't hold this opinion of others, but I sure as hell apply it to myself.)

Even though a few steps here and there might've forestalled worse consequences. (I guess I could've asked for help to pay rent until I found a job, but...I hate that. Intensely.)

So I'm starting to fizzle a bit and I'm going to have to ask, and I hate that. So I'm mad with my situation. Frustrated that I'm not an island and the cool self-sufficient adult I've heard about in grown-ups myths. Mostly I just feel like a very sad houseplant. IDK....

[iturbide]

Honestly, bless you and your writing! Quality content fadgsaffsg-- But what if something super bad happened? Like the summoner somehow got captured by maybe Muspell (Surtr?) ovo I'm imagining the reasoning could be something like 'Askr is nothing without their precious summoner. Watch as their mockery of a kingdom falls apart even before I raze it to the ground.' kinda deal? How would Grima (and the whole castle by proxy I suppose) react? :>

quality content I am so flattered okay i’m still screaming about this

but okay you see this

this prompt

this set my brain on fire

so please forgive me for the fact that this monster is literally 6,500 words long and clocks in at a full 18 pages

If you’ve read anything else of mine that exceeds a thousand words, I like to change perspective sometimes.  For ease of understanding, asterisks (*) represent a perspective shift, dashes (-) represent a scene shift.  The first bit is there as a teaser, the part below the cut is significantly larger, you have been warned. 

Kiran was fairly certain by now that combat would never become familiar.  Nothing in their prior life could have prepared them for this, and even with as many fights as they’d seen (and between the conflict with first Embla, now Múspell, and all of the battles waged for practice in the Training Tower or sport in the Arena, they had seen a lot), it never really felt natural or right, sending soldiers – friends – onto the field to fight and bleed and sometimes fall for the Askran cause.  

Perhaps it was good that war did not sit well with them.  But regardless of their feelings, they had a job to do here, and they intended to do it well.  Anything to keep Askr from becoming a mirror of Nifl’s scorched wasteland: the further they traveled, the more wreckage they encountered, empty towns covered in snow that could not hide the burned remains of what had once been thriving communities.

As they continued their trek toward Nifl’s former capital, the Askran forces had run afoul of Múspell soldiers camped in one of the ruined villages.  Tagging Ike, they glanced briefly at his health, winced, and instead sent Lissa to heal him before ordering the young mercenary into a green mage’s line of fire.  Robin moved to intercept a mounted archer encroaching on their flank, sending a conspiracy of magic ravens tearing through the bowman’s defenses, while overhead a six-winged dragon banked slowly over the battle, awaiting his next command.

“We might need to retreat,” Kiran muttered as enemy reinforcements appeared upfield, well beyond their line of sight but easily tracked by the tactical map piped into their phone.  The axe fighter and the red manakete wouldn’t be so bad, with Alphonse and Sharena to intercept them, but the cavalier with the firesweep lance was another matter…

“The situation hardly seems so dire.”

The Summoner looked up at the hooded figure leaning over their shoulder, a wry smile twitching across their face.  “When did you take over as the Order’s tactician?”

Grima rolled his eyes, keeping easy pace with the Kiran as they picked their way through the remnants of the village square.  Several of the houses beyond remained more or less intact: the narrow streets would afford them a good choke point to deal with additional reinforcements, provided they could keep their ranks in order.  Humming thoughtfully to themselves as they climbed the steps of an abandoned home, Kiran drew the Askran fighters one by one across the on-screen grid, casting a quick glance back the way they’d come to see faintly glowing marks on the ground leading into the plaza.  They still had no idea what Breidablik had done to their phone, but it had certainly been effective.

“Incoming,” the Summoner noted, listening to the approaching hoofbeats.  “You ready?”

The fell dragon grinned, violet flames licking at his boots.  “Always,” he chuckled.  Though they both knew it wasn’t necessary, Kiran still moved Grima’s icon down the street as he advanced, the great six-winged form overhead descending to attack.  More reinforcements had appeared around the square, and the Summoner bit their lip as they sized up the new opposition, attempting to suss out the least risky solution to their predicament.  Tapping a few troops experimentally, Kiran gauged their chances…and, satisfied that they could pull off a defensive ploy, moved their allies one by one to engage the newly summoned soldiers, grinning as the blinding glow from Alphonse’s Sol momentarily brightened the overcast afternoon.  Grima’s dragon form screeched as an axe fighter filled the position occupied by the now fallen cavalryman, and the Summoner glanced briefly at the screen…only to chuckle at the damage predictor’s single-digit output.  Even with two hits, there was no chance they could take down the Wings of Despair.  Maybe they had been too hasty, considering retreat–

“Hello, Summoner.”

Kiran froze.

They hadn’t heard movement in the building behind them.  Hadn’t even considered that someone might be in there waiting – which was foolish, given the hard lesson they’d learned combatting the Black Knight not so long ago.  But they slowly raised their hands in the universal gesture of peaceful submission, taking great care not to disturb the blade pressed to their neck.

“Hello,” the Summoner replied, grateful that their voice did not quake the way the rest of them did.  “It’s Laegjarn, right?”

“I’m flattered that you recall my name,” the general chuckled.  “Perhaps you also recall my offer.”

“Surrender quietly and you won’t hurt me?”

“Your memory serves you well.  What say you?”

Kiran swallowed, feeling the sword’s edge burn their throat.  With the fight still raging out of sight in the plaza and Grima’s attention focused on the wyvern rider flying into range, no one had seen the enemy under their noses.  No help was coming.

Some tactician they turned out to be.

“I submit.”

“Very good.  Please disarm, Summoner.”

The blade at their throat relaxed an inch.  Nodding slightly, Kiran removed Breidablik from its place on their hip, kneeling to lay it on the stoop alongside their phone…

…and as they lingered, casting one last pleading look toward the fell dragon, they cranked the volume up to the max.  The music barely even reached their own ears over the pounding of their heart, and the general made no remark on it as the Summoner straightened.  

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” Laegjarn remarked, taking hold of Kiran’s arm and pulling them into the shadows of the scorched house.  The back half had collapsed, blackened beams jutting from the ash; the Múspell general paid the wreckage no mind as she guided them out onto the next road and past a fresh wave of soldiers.  “Retreat,” she ordered.  “We have what we came for.”

The troops pulled back from the village with shocking speed.  The Askran forces remained, perhaps confused by the swift turn of the tides, perhaps elated at their victory.  Kiran did not know.  They could only wonder what the Heroes would feel when they realized what they’d lost.

***

Grima frowned as the Múspell soldiers withdrew.  “Barely a challenge,” he snorted.

Something’s strange.

“I’m inclined to agree, given how fierce these forces are said to be–”

We were outnumbered.  There were still reinforcements coming in.  Why did they retreat?

He glanced up at the dragon floating lazily overhead.

A wyvern rider tried to stab you in the face.  I don’t think the dragon really made much of an impression.

A grin twitched across Grima’s face as he moved back down the icy road.  Kiran had left the doorstep; turning into the square, the fell dragon joined the other Heroes that had gathered, submitting without complaint to the fair-haired cleric’s treatment.

“I was worried for a moment there,” the Askran princess giggled.  “There were so many of them!”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ike muttered, the words clearly at odds with the wounds the healer had yet to mend.

“What troubles me is how quickly the tides turned,” Alphonse said.  “Our enemy has shown fearsome skill at predicting our course of action and heading us off…they may seek to lure us into a trap.”

“Where’s Kiran?” Anna asked.  “Perhaps they’ll have some insight…”

All eyes turned to Grima.

A sense of disquieting unease crawled down his spine.  “I did not see them when the battle ended.  I thought they had joined you here.”

But scanning the worried Heroes that turned to look amongst each other, he found no trace of the Summoner.

“They can’t be far…right?” Lissa asked, wringing her staff between her hands.

“Let’s look for them.  Perhaps they were sidetracked investigating something,” Robin suggested, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his otherwise calm logic.

The fell dragon retraced his steps as the other members of the Order fanned out through the square, calling to the Summoner to reveal themselves.  Approaching the doorstep where he had left them, Grima narrowed his eyes at the open doorway leading into the wreckage.  Had it been ajar before?  If Kiran intended this to be some prank–

That isn’t like them.

As he drew close, an odd sound snared Grima’s attention: a muffled, melodic hum from somewhere nearby.  Tilting his head, he peered up and down the street, toward the scorched eaves, down to the snowy ground…

Oh, gods.

The fell dragon crouched, lifting the Summoner’s magic tile off the step.  Free of the ice, the song it sang grew louder, a tense battle hymn that set his nerves on edge.  “Kiran,” he called, taking to his feet and striding through the doorway, out through the collapsed rear wall, and across the packed snow left by the enemy’s retreat.

No response.

They won’t hear you.

“Kiran!” Grima snarled, loud enough to echo through the wreckage, distorting beyond recognition.

They can’t hear you.

“KIRAN!!”

The dragon overhead shrieked in unison with him, sending scores of dark birds rushing from the forests on every side.  But as the ringing in his ears at last abated, nothing more than silence greeted him.

They’re gone.

—

The Order had searched.  They had scoured the woods until the last light left the sky, following the tracks left by the Múspell soldiers in hopes of finding the place where they converged; but even with six eyes overhead peering through the dark, they found no clues to spur their progress.

Nightfall forced their hand.  With few options and grave uncertainties of what lay ahead, the Order’s commander called for a retreat back to Askr to resupply and assess the situation.  And as little as Grima liked it, he had nothing better to offer.  

“We should gather reinforcements,” the Askran prince insisted as they strode through the luminous gateway into the plaza.  “The Múspell forces couldn’t have traveled far.  If we set off at dawn we may be able to catch up with them–”

“It’s too risky,” the commander replied.  “We don’t know how many soldiers they have.  Even if we were to take the whole of the Order, we’ve no guarantee of victory – and that could be exactly what they want, leaving Askr’s defenses weak for Surtr’s invasion force.  Until we know more, we should wait and prepare.”

“You would abandon them.”

The words echoed through the plaza, leaving silence in their wake.  Grima stalked forward, rage fueling the violet tongues of flame that swirled around him; only the warning from the presence in the back of his mind kept him from lifting the red-headed general off the ground by the front of her tunic.  The Askrans still retreated, warily touching their weapons as the fell dragon stared down at them.

“We’re not abandoning anyone,” Anna insisted, the tremor in her voice undercutting her patient tone.  “Rushing in will only put everyone at risk.”

“Múspell’s general is a formidable strategist, but has treated the people of Nifl fairly even after its fall,” Fjorm offered.  “If she has taken the Summoner, we can be assured of their safety until terms are delivered–”

“And if Surtr is responsible then they may be dead already,” Grima snarled.

“…we can’t afford to risk the Order, or the Summoner’s life, by rushing in ill prepared,” the commander repeated.  “We will make ready, and when we receive word–”

The fell dragon bared his fangs, feeling the pull of the great form atop the castle and wanting nothing more than to bring the walls crumbling down on the Askrans’ miserable heads…

That won’t help Kiran.

He hated that voice.  All the more for the fact that he knew that it spoke true.

Clenching his fists, Grima stormed from the plaza, winding his way through the halls and up to the castle roof where his six-eyed form roosted.  The dragon made a small noise of distress, six eyes fixed on the distant horizon while Grima settled against the parapets and struggled to fight down the rage burning its way through him.  “Miserable wretched cowardly worms, every one of them–”

They have some sound points.

“They’re leaving Kiran to die, how is that a sound point?”

If Surtr had been involved, we would have known it.  He likes to gloat too much.  He wouldn’t have retreated with Kiran, he would have made it known immediately what he’d done.  Odds are good that it is the general who’s responsible, then, and that gives us time to prepare.

“Prepare for what?  Do you really imagine their terms will be anything beyond ‘surrender or we slaughter the Summoner?’”

…unconditional surrender or providing Gunnthrá’s location would be my guess.

Grima sneered, pressing his fists to his forehead.  “How reassuring.”

What else can we do, though?

“How should I know?  As I recall, you were the genius tactician.”

The presence at the back of his mind had no response for that.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the fell dragon reached into the pocket of his coat, removing the Summoner’s magic tile.  The divine weapon they’d left behind had been left in the commander’s care…but Grima had kept the Summoner’s fohn.  The surface had gone dark, the eerie music silent now as he held the device in his palm…but as he prodded it experimentally, the screen flashed to light, a series of tiny white dots speckling the bottom of the screen.

He had watched Kiran toy with this blasted thing often enough.  Touching the surface, he drew his finger through several of the spots…and with a soft click, the tile’s surface rippled and changed, a faint red cast overtaking the screen.  Touching it lightly sent sparks dancing under his fingers…before a map of the Askran kingdom appeared, glowing stones marked with ornate banners scattered across the continent.  The Summoner had shown him this once before…tapping one the seals arranged along the bottom of the tile, he frowned at the banners filing down before his eyes.  Skills, seals, growth…tapping another made the surface shimmer into a list of even less helpful banners: dueling swords, stamina restoration, barracks expansion…

What are you looking for?

“There must be some way to help them,” the fell dragon muttered.  “If this so-called ‘Order of Heroes’ is as grand as the Askrans claim, there must be something…”

Like what?

“If I knew that, would I be searching?” Grima growled, squinting in the tile’s light and touching another symbol, only to find himself back on the map of the kingdom.  “Wretched thing…”

Try the last one.  On the right.

“I didn’t ask you,” Grima snarled.

…I want them back, too, you know.  But I don’t have a body anymore.  I can only help if you’ll let me.

Silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the whisper of the breeze rustling the Askran flags flying high over the towers.  And finally, without ire or protest, the fell dragon touched the furthest symbol, scanning the list of banners that scrolled before his eyes.

There.  Catalog of Heroes.

Grima touched the words, watching the screen shimmer and change, displaying tiny portraits of the Heroes assembled within the Askran palace.  Dragging his fingertip along the edge sent the tiles trailing out of sight, replaced by new ones.  Some were familiar: Naga’s young daughter, the Hoshidan archer prince, the Ylissean tacticians…others much less so.

Touch one.

He did without argument.  The surface briefly darkened before an image appeared of a fair-haired man in red, a quiver of arrows secured at his side; a scroll emblazoned with a name and epithet hovered over a brief biography…

A strategist.

“How many do you think there are?” Grima asked quietly, touching the scrollwork arrows and browsing through the other Heroes.

If we’re lucky?  Enough.

The dragon felt a smile tug at his lips, exposing pale fangs to the moonlight.  “Then tell me, tactician: what will we need?”

—

It came as no surprise when the Askran troops made no move.  One day passed.  Then another.  A pall of silence hung over the castle; the Heroes carried on their conversations in hushed voices and terse words, half their attention seeming forever fixed on the gates leading to the lands beyond Askr in hopes that some message would arrive from beyond their borders.

None came.

And for that, Grima was grateful.  It would have been far more difficult to lay plans with the Order scrambling to meet Múspell’s demands.

Nightfall cleared the plaza.  None of the Heroes seemed interested in idle chatter when one of their own was missing.  And it made the task of locating them far easier as he stalked through the quiet barracks, glancing from door to door and knocking one by one on the rooms he and the tactician had so carefully chosen.

Responses were, as expected, mixed.  Soren had no interest in helping Grima, with his loyalties so firmly tied to the young mercenary swordsman; Ike, however, needed no encouragement at all to join when he heard the proposal, and in his wake the strategist grudgingly followed.  The Ylissean tacticians, meanwhile, were far more open to hearing the fell dragon out, though the rest of their exalted families harbored grave misgivings (and Grima felt a pang from the presence in his mind when Lucina touched her sword).

They assembled in the castle’s grand council chamber, taking their seats at the round table and looking among their number: four Ylissean tacticians in various states of dress and festive attire, one fair-haired Archanean archer, a stoic swordsman and his branded mage companion an Ostian spy with a sly smile and sharp eyes, and one Ylissean thief contemplating the gathering over a lollipop.

“You said this is about Kiran,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence at last.

“I did,” Grima agreed.  “And it is.”

“Have you seen something?” his counterpart ventured, glancing up at the ceiling as though searching for the six-winged form roosting far above.

“No,” the dragon replied.  “Which is why I asked you here.”

“…’fraid I don’t follow,” Gaius muttered.

Yes he does.  He just wants to hear you say it.

“How ‘bout you spell it out for us?” the thief continued, leaning far enough back in his chair to nearly upend it.

A smile carved its way across Grima’s face.  “Why are we all here in this place, fighting this war?”

“We were summoned,” Jeorge replied.  “By Kiran, and that strange weapon they hold.”

“I’m still not sure if we’re bound by contract or not,” Robin said, twisting a lock of long white hair around her finger.  “We can’t go home unless we’re sent back, but…”

“I don’t…exactly feel obligated to help here,” her twin agreed, adjusting the coat over her bare shoulders.  “Not like some of the Heroes we’ve encountered in Veronica’s ranks.

“Why is that?” the fell dragon asked.  “Why do you remain here, why do you commit yourself to the Askran cause, if not for a contract?”

“I’m only here because Ike is,” Soren grumbled.  

The swordsman paid him no mind, meeting Grima’s eye steadily.  “Kiran.”

“Kiran,” the fell dragon repeated, beginning to pace the length of the room.  “The Summoner.  The one who brought us together, who’s honed our skills, who’s afforded us every chance to better ourselves.  Who’s listened to us, and tried to help us find our places in this strange world.  Who’s seen us through countless battles and allowed us to be the Heroes we’ve been branded, regardless of our worth.”

You’re waxing poetic.

Kiran brought out a strange side of him.  Turning to the assembled Heroes, he leaned his weight against the table.  “Who’s now lost behind enemy lines, who’s been abandoned by the leaders of this Order, and who may be in danger.”

“You heard Anna,” the festive tactician noted uncomfortably, folding his mittened hands a few times.  “There’s too much of a risk, both to ourselves and to Kiran, to charge back in when we don’t know the full situation.”

A smile tugged at Grima’s lips, exposing the tips of his fangs.  “Then perhaps it would behoove us to rectify that.”

“…alright.  I’ll bite.  How?” Matthew asked, his smile twitching as he fought to keep it in place.

“A covert operation.”

All eyes turned to Grima’s doppelganger.  He folded his hands on the table, meeting the fell dragon’s eye steadily.  “That’s what you’d propose.  Isn’t it?”

“No wonder you need spies and strategists,” the woman seated beside him remarked.  “The first to slip into the Múspell camp, assess their forces and potential weak points; the other to take that and devise the plan to strike, extract Kiran, and retreat.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Ylisse’s illustrious tacticians,” the fell dragon murmured, inclining his head in agreement.

“Why, though?” Gaius asked, propping his boots on the edge of the table.  “What’s in it for you?”

The assembled Heroes turned their attention back to Grima.  He met their stares without flinching, standing tall beside his place at the table.  “You imagine I have selfish motivations.  And you are not mistaken.  Were it another, I would have no qualms about leaving them, whether they were royalty or the Order’s commander.  But this is Kiran.  They are a weak, wretched, pathetic excuse for a human, unable even to defend themselves in a fight.  I want them returned.  Nothing more.”

“…I would like to see the Summoner returned safely, myself,” Jeorge remarked, resting his chin on his hands as the other Heroes nodded in agreement.  “So, then.  Where do we begin?”

—

The council lasted well into the darkest hours of the night.  But their plans came together, bit by bit, until at last they parted ways to rest and prepare for the opportune moment.  Slipping through the plaza, Grima made his way toward the soft glow of the gates that led beyond the Askran kingdom.  If conditions were in their favor, they might be able to set things in motion with the next nightfall–

“Where is Kiran?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Hoshido’s archer prince as he emerged from the shadows of the pillars.  “Not here,” the fell dragon replied brusquely.

“Where?”  His voice sounded hoarse. Narrowing his eyes, Grima watched the noxious violet fog swirl and eddy around the young man.  The possessed one, then.

The volatile one.

“I haven’t seen them since the battle,” the fell dragon said.

“I need to find them,” Takumi insisted.  “Where are they?”

“I could not say.  But they are not here.  Look elsewhere.”

“I’ve looked.  Everywhere.  Nowhere else to go.  I need to find them.”

“…why?” Grima asked.

“It won’t go away.”

The archer pressed a hand to his face, fingers curling into an unsteady fist.  “I try.  I try to block it out, but…the voice keeps telling me…to kill them, all of them, and I can’t make it stop, I need Kiran to make it stop, I need them, where are they…?”

“Gone.”

Takumi looked up, his expression an unsettling mask of distress and rage.  “Where?”

“Captured.”

Are you sure you should be telling him that?

“By who?” the archer growled.

“Múspell,” Grima replied.

“Get them back.”

“The Order intends to do nothing,” the fell dragon sneered.  “They will sit on their hands and wait for Surtr’s demands.  Or for him to put Kiran’s charred corpse on display.  Whichever comes first, I suppose.”

The mist around the prince seethed and roiled, and a thin smile cut across Grima’s face as he watched the bow at Takumi’s side begin to tremble.

You’re doing it on purpose.

“I will go.”

“The Order won’t allow it,” the fell dragon remarked.

“I don’t care.  I’ll go.  I’ll kill them all for Kiran, I’ll get them back, I’ll…”

“You want Kiran back so badly?” Grima murmured, knowing the answer even before he asked.  Takumi nodded, offering no more than a low, guttural noise of assent.  “Then collect yourself.”

The singer might be able to help.  Azura?  Kiran called her in to help before, I think…

The fell dragon gestured for Takumi to follow, making his way back into the halls.  Considering their purpose, a performer could prove advantageous, though a songstress ran the risk of betraying their position…

But if you plan to use him, you need a way to keep him together.  Besides, a singer doesn’t need room to perform the way a dancer does.  Reach out to the one in blue, she’ll have a better chance of blending into the dark.

The fell dragon grinned.  Perhaps it truly had been a stroke of luck that he’d been bound to a tactician’s body.

You can thank me any time.

…he might consider it if they succeeded.

***

Laegjarn had been true to her word: following the retreat from the village, the Múspell general had personally escorted the Summoner through the march to the edge of the forest before placing them – under heavy guard, of course – in a private tent near the heart of the camp.  While Kiran was grateful for that, it didn’t stop anxiety from gnawing a hole through their gut, leaving them queasy and sleepless through the next few days and nights.

It didn’t help that Surtr was on his way.  Laegjarn hadn’t said anything about it, but the Summoner had heard her call for a messenger shortly after they made camp.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was going to send.  

Aside from the unbearable waiting, though, it wasn’t as bad as Kiran might have expected.  No one bothered them, the general was conscious of their needs, and the conditions were more than fair given their prisoner status.

The Summoner wondered, often, as their nerves twisted their stomach into knots, what would end up happening to them.  Laegjarn had vowed that no harm would befall them, but with Surtr on the way, that seemed like a hard promise to keep.  Would she be able to convince her father to discuss nonviolent terms?  Would the flame king overrule his general and act on whatever violent whims ruled him?  Would…

…would the Order somehow find a way to save them?

Impossible as it seemed, that was the thought that gave them the most heart.  Heroes swooping in to the rescue, defeating the Múspell soldiers…

A flurry of activity on the third night made their heart seize up.  Kiran heard Laegjarn calmly directing the soldiers as she strode past the Summoner’s tent…and as she passed, someone entered: not the eldest princess of Múspell, but her sister, her face an expressionless mask and her eyes far colder than her heritage would have implied.

“Is something going on?” Kiran asked, feigning calm.

“You will come with me,” Laevatein ordered.

The Summoner heard no room for argument.  And they weren’t exactly in a position to protest, either.  Rising to their feet, Kiran approached the young general, submitting without protest as she took hold of their arm and led them out of the tent.  

The frantic bustle of activity set their nerves on edge as they moved toward the lanterns lighting the front of the camp.  “Your sister seems pretty great,” they noted quietly, watching soldiers scrambling from one corner of the camp to another.  Kiran swore they saw the ghost of a smile cross Laevatein’s face at that, though she made no reply.  “I’d like to thank her, if I could.  Sometime.  Y’know.  I really appreciate everything she’s done…”

Anything else they might have wanted to say died on their tongue as they approached the edge of camp.  The lights they had seen were not lanterns at all: they were naked flames, writhing in the air and nearly choking the Summoner with their heat alone.  And at their heart stood the Ruler of Flame himself, his dark eyes staring down at them through the rippling haze.

“I present the Askran Summoner,” Laegjarn said, gesturing to Kiran as Laevatein released their arm.

A wicked sneer sliced across Surtr’s face, and any breath the Summoner might have salvaged to speak abandoned them.  “Pathetic,” he chuckled, a sound so low it seemed to shake the ground.  “This wretched thing is what’s given them such nerve?  They look like they would lose to a mere ember.”

Kiran had to admit that they probably would.  But the words would not come out, even if they’d wanted to speak.

The man’s smile grew, exposing teeth and gums alike.  “I wonder how well they will burn.”

He raised a hand, and the Summoner stared at the flames licking his fingers, sparking across his nails and crackling in his palm.  They could not speak.  They could not move.  Try as they might, all they could do was watch in growing horror as his hand stretched toward them, the heat baking their skin and singing the edges of their hood and oh gods this was how they would die, they would burn to death here and they couldn’t even cry as they stood rooted in terror beneath the burning gaze of Múspell’s king–

A hand closed on their arm, pulling them back a step.  

Kiran stumbled, gasping into their sleeve as Laegjarn placed herself between the Summoner and her father.  “I gave my oath that no harm would befall them,” she said, her voice perfectly composed.  “The Summoner is a valuable bargaining chip.  We can deliver terms of surrender to Askr in exchange for their safe return and end this war tomorrow, but only if we have the Summoner to offer–”

“You should not have made such a hasty oath,” Surtr growled.  “Stand aside, or the flames may feast twice this night.”

Kiran’s knees threatened to give way beneath them as Múspell’s king brushed his daughter aside, leaving her armor scorched from even so light a touch.  Another step and he loomed over them, the flames making him seem still larger as they flared around him, and the Summoner could not be sure whether it was the haze of heat around him or the adrenaline coursing through them that made his silhouette waver and blur–

And in a flash, chaos erupted all around them.

Horses shrieked and bolted with glowing green wolves snapping at their heels, blue-black ravens descended on the archers reaching for their bows, and wyvern riders taking to the skies fell to a hail of arrows.  Kiran scrambled blindly out of the way of the scattering soldiers–

Someone gripped their arm.  The Summoner yelped, whirling in a panic…

“Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Their breath caught.

“…Grima!?”

***

The weather held throughout the day and after the fall of night.  Thick clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight as the band of Heroes made their way through the dark: two mages, two dagger wielders, two archers, a swordsman, and a songstress with an ornate axe.  Not a brigade for sustained combat, but they had all agreed it would suffice for a strategic strike.

They found the Múspell camp with little difficulty.  Gaius and Matthew slipped from the cover of the trees, darting across the icy ground to the pillars of ice that sheltered the enemy tents.  They would need time to assess the situation and return to brief the rest of the company…

A sound overhead drew his attention.  Glancing up at the heavy clouds, Grima narrowed his eyes at the winged silhouette moving against the sky.  He scanned their small force, catching Takumi’s eye and gesturing up to the enemy on patrol; the archer followed his gaze, raising his bow and taking careful aim before loosing a bolt of black energy into the air.  The fell dragon saw the wyvern jerk and list in its flight an instant before its wings crumpled…

A sharp hiss drew his attention back.  He frowned, watching Takumi shudder while the aura pulsed and coiled around his neck.  Nodding briefly to the dark-clad singer, he focused once more on encampment glowing against the blue-white ice while a soft song filled their ears.  Even from this distance, he could see soldiers moving hastily through the lines of tents, seething and swarming like ants disturbed from their mound.  Something was going on, that much was clear…

He heard, rather than saw, the return of the spies from their patrol, the faint crunch of pine needles and snow under soft boots betraying their presence.  “We gotta move fast,” Gaius muttered as he slunk up to Grima’s side.  “Bad news just walked in.”

The fell dragon growled low in his throat.  That would explain the activity.  “Then we had best make haste.”

He moved swiftly, hearing the others following his lead.  They moved swiftly, dark shadows against the pale ice, taking shelter behind the icy stones that littered the plain.  As they drew close, he saw Surtr speaking with one of the two Múspell generals, watched him brush the woman aside, his hand reaching for…

Kiran.

“Now,” he hissed.

They did not hesitate.  The tacticians leapt into action, their spells descending on the encampment and throwing its soldiers into disarray.  Jeorge and Takumi took aim at the wyvern riders, arresting their attempted flight while Grima cleared the remaining distance, his attention fixed on the Summoner’s gilt robes amid the chaos.  Taking hold of their arm–

Kiran whimpered, rounding on the fell dragon and raising their free hand to shield their face.  He could feel them trembling beneath his touch.  Typical.  And yet, the fell dragon felt a smile curve across his lips, a soft rumble of laughter rising in his chest.  “Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Kiran stilled, turning their face up to look at him.  And in spite of himself, he could not hide his grin.

“…Grima!?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, turning back the way he’d come.  “Quickly, now–”

“Hold.”

The fell dragon stopped, moving the Summoner carefully behind him as Surtr towered over them.  “Stand aside,” Grima commanded.  Even at his full height, the fell dragon was forced to tilt his head up to look the Ruler of Flame in his scarred face.  But he felt no fear, even as the man lifted his axe, tongues of fire licking the glowing blade.

Surtr sneered.  “Or what?  What can a puny thing like you do?”

Grima’s smile widened, exposing his fangs.  “I will devour you,” he replied.  He raised his hand, gesturing to Múspell’s king as the man uttered a booming, mirthless laugh…

The clouds above roiled and parted for the six-eyed dragon, its maw gaping wide as it descended toward the camp.  Surtr paused, watching the dragon’s descent with a vaguely amused smirk.  “Keep close,” Grima muttered, sheltering the Summoner with one outstretched arm as the dragon overhead breathed a cloud of violet smoke over the encampment…

“Foolish wretch – you will learn the meaning of fear,” Surtr laughed.

Sparks danced through the veil of haze.  The king of Múspell raised his axe high, flames coalescing into a ball that rivaled the sun – and as he swung his weapon, it soared high, striking the dragon squarely in the jaw.

The fell beast shrieked in rage and agony, expelling another cloud of noxious fog across the enemy’s forces.  He felt Kiran’s hand grip his sleeve, and without hesitation he retreated through the dark, away from the Múspell forces and onto the snowy wastes beyond.  He saw the others ahead, pulling back with equal speed, cutting swiftly across the ice and into the shelter of the trees beyond; with the songstress speeding them along their way, they continued without pause until at last the light and sound of the battlefield had faded from a ringing in their ears to utter silence.

And then, at last, their breathless troop stopped, collapsing beneath the shelter of the Nifl pines.  Grima glanced across the battered force, an odd sense of relief settling over him as he found them all accounted for.  They had done well.

And moreover, they had succeeded.

The fell dragon turned to the Summoner beside him, looking them over carefully as their breath at last grew steady.  They appeared unharmed, if slightly singed…  “Are you alright?” he asked.

Kiran drew in a shaky breath.  And when they looked up at him, their wide eyes were full of tears.

Before he could speak, the Summoner flung themselves at him, pressing close and clutching his coat in their trembling hands.  “He was gonna kill me,” they whimpered.  “Gods…g-gods, I could’ve died, he was gonna burn me alive, and I couldn’t d-do anything – I froze up, I just stood there, like s-some dumb…I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even run away, I was gonna die th-there…”

Grima hesitantly coiled one arm across Kiran’s shoulders, the other awkwardly patting the peak of their hood.  “What did you expect?” he asked quietly.  “You do not fight.  That is not your role.”

“I could’ve…a-at least run away, i-instead of dying like…like some c-coward,” the Summoner sniffled into his increasingly damp shirt.

“There is no cowardice in what you did,” the fell dragon murmured.  “Brave words can mask a coward, but his actions will betray him.  You showed great courage.  You held firm in the face of fear.  You faced a foe that even Heroes fear.  You should take pride.”

“I’m no Hero,” Kiran mumbled.

“No,” Grima agreed.  “You are not.  You are a Summoner.  But what makes us Heroes is not our presence in Askr.  It is not our histories, nor our titles, nor our lineages….it is you.  You are the one who makes us Heroes.  Your belief in us.  Your faith.  You are not a Hero, Summoner…but we are not Heroes without you.”

You’re waxing poetic again.

It seemed effective, though.  Kiran’s sniffling abated, and they turned their gaze once more up to look at his face.  “…do you really think so?” they whispered.

“I think any here would agree,” he nodded.  The Summoner drew back slightly, mustering up a shaky smile as they dried their eyes and turned to scan the assembled Heroes…

“Holy shit, what happened to Takumi!?”

Kiran broke away, hurrying over to where the archer sat.  His head came up, bloody lips curving into a relieved smile as the Summoner settled beside him.  “You’re back,” he mumbled, the shifting aura around him beginning to disperse.

“Of course I am,” they chuckled.  “You guys can’t get rid of me that easy.  Don’t suppose a healer joined the party…?”

“No,” Grima confirmed, moving to stand beside them.  “But Askr is only a brief warp away, and there are clerics enough there.”  

“We should probably get going, then,” they said, helping Takumi to his feet.  Nodding in agreement, Grima turned–

Something tugged on his sleeve.  Looking back, he found the Summoner’s hand on his arm, a familiar smile taking its place once more on their face.  “Thanks, Grima,” they murmured.  “For saving me.  And…for everything else, too.”

The fell dragon inclined his head slightly, concealing his smile beneath his raised hood as he turned to join the tacticians in seeing to the preparations for their return.  The commander would likely have harsh words for them all, but…he would bear them without complaint or apology.  The risk had been well worth the reward.

[glimmeringtwilight]

Misfortunate

Short Scaramouche piece so I get this short angry lad out of my system (if any of you make a "that's what she said" joke I'm smiting you). Technically proofread but does it really count if I only worked on this at 1am. I'll tweak the formatting tomorrow. Put below a cut for the length, not for the content (SFW).

CW: mild violence, Scaramouche (he's his own warning. He's a prick), mild dehumanization, yandere themes, mild description of injury.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Trouble follows you. 

It’s like your shadow, tailing after you wherever you go. People call you unlucky. Clear skies turn to pouring rain, rockslides narrowly miss you in tight passes, avalanches on snowy mountain peaks, you name it. It was like the world was trying to bury you beneath it, but by some small miracle you’ve always barely managed to get out of whatever new misfortune that befell you.  

You’re beginning to think “cursed” might be a more accurate term. That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you clutch your bleeding arm to your chest, stumbling through dark corridors as voices ring out around you. 

“Find them!” To your left. You go right, moving as quietly as you can manage. 

The air here is thick. Suffocating. You don’t know what the purple fog dancing along the floors is, but you’re sure you’re bound to find out, cloth bandana completely useless at blocking it out. You taste metal. 

The hallways here seem to wind on forever. By design, probably, if you had to guess. You can’t be doing… whatever nefarious shit the fatui gets up to, in a regular building, no. And apparently nothing screams “nefarious” more than identical rooms and long, disorienting hallways. 

At least it seems to be affecting your pursuers as much as it is you, their voices still distant as they search for you. But you’re sure that the poor design of this place won’t save you for long. 

You step into a side room after a quick check to be sure it’s empty, stopping to catch your breath.

Think. You just need to… think. Catch your breath, stop the bleeding– you’re sure you’ve left a trail of blood in your wake, but it’s so damn dark in here you doubt they’ll even see it– and try to-

“So this is the rat my men have been chasing for the past half-hour.”

Haha, fuck. 

You freeze in place, holding your breath (as if that’ll do anything). Steeling your resolve, you turn your head stiffly and glance over your shoulder to see who it is that found you.

“Well? Are you deaf or just stupid? Or do you have nothing to say?” 

There’s a quiet jingling sound, metal against metal, and you strain to make out the figure in the darkness as he steps closer. You can definitely make out the big, gaudy hat he wears, the brim dipped too low to let you see much more than his mouth. 

You realize he’s still waiting for you to say something when he tsks, hand twitching by his side, and fear jumpstarts your mouth before it jumpstarts your brain, blurting the first thing that comes to mind. 

“You should invest in better structural engineers. And fire whoever designed this place.” Brilliant. Now instead of just killing you, maybe he’ll spit on your corpse too. 

He says nothing, the silence dragging on following your response, interrupted by the occasional distant shout and the steady drip, drip, drip of your blood hitting the floor. Why isn’t he calling the others over? Why didn’t he just kill you outright?

Come to think of it, you remember him mentioning “his men”... Fuck. Is he running this operation?

You don’t have the chance to dwell on it, snapping back to the present when a dry laugh cuts through the silence. It’s short, devoid of any real humor, and the back of your neck prickles with unease. 

“Stupid, then.” The hat tips up, just slightly. “How did you get in?”

“I fell in.”

“You fell in.” He sounds unconvinced, and more than just a little annoyed. 

“I was just… exploring-” The stranger’s mouth twists into a scowl at the vagueness of your reply, and you rush to elaborate before he decides to stop stalling murdering you- “fine! I- Onikabuto. I was looking for- for onikabuto, and the ground caved in under my feet. I didn’t even know this was down here, I swear, so-”

“Quiet.” Your mouth snaps shut. He stalks forward, snapping at you to “stay put” when you stagger back half a step in response, and you freeze. Maybe if you play nice, you can still talk your way out of this…

He stops a few feet away from you, crossing his arms, and you watch the hat dip with the movement of his head. Maybe you could catch him by surprise and-

A hand seizes your face in a bruising grip, thin fingers indenting the clammy skin of your cheeks so hard your teeth painfully dig into the sides of it. When you instinctively try to pull out of his grasp, the fingers of his other hand hook underneath your bandana, yanking it off your face so it hangs loosely around your neck and fisting the fabric to hold you in place.

His hand reclaims its place, gripping your jaw just as tightly as he holds you still by the bandana around your neck with the other. 

Indigo eyes meet your own, and the stranger jerks your head to the side, appraising you like one would a show dog.

“Wha- Hey-” Your head is jerked the other way, the movement less harsh than the first as you consciously turn your head with the movement the second time, anticipating the rough handling. 

“You’re making a mess.” He notes after a beat, eyes narrowing at the large gash on your arm that continues to drip blood. 

“I’m… sorry?” You mumble, words slurring with the way his grip on your face tightens. You’re not really sure how to respond to that. What, does he expect you to just stop bleeding because it’s pissing him off?

He tsks, letting go of you, and you rub the sore skin to soothe the ache left behind from his unnecessary roughness. You’re starting to think it’d be better if one of his lackeys found you first. They’d have killed you by now, sure, but it would have at least been quick. 

“Are you going to kill me?” No point in beating around the bush, you suppose. What’s he gonna do, say “yes” and then stab you? 

… Well. He could. But you hope not. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” Is his vague response, turning on a heel and walking away from you like he didn’t just finish manhandling you. 

You stare at his retreating figure, wondering whether or not that was the end of it. Is he just… letting you go? Is he trying to bait you into getting your hopes up, so he can crush them under his heel and laugh as he kills you?

“Well?” He stops, turning to look back at you when you continue to stare blankly at his retreating form. “Come. Or I’ll leave you here for my men.” 

While you don’t like the idea of following him anywhere, there’s not much other option, and he doesn’t seem keen on killing you yet, at least.

You follow him out of the room and into the corridor, listening to the tinkling of the metal ornaments on his hat and his deceptively heavy footsteps. Is he… making his footsteps heavier on purpose? 

You didn’t hear him earlier, when he snuck up on you (you know he wasn’t in the room when you entered, that big, gaudy hat of his would have given him away). So does he… stomp around most of the time? On purpose? Why? To sound like he’s bigger than he is? Or is he just always pissed?

The image of this man stomping around this shady hideout to make himself sound bigger and more intimidating almost rips a hysterical giggle out of you, but you focus instead on keeping the veil from smacking you in the face as you walk behind him. 

You could technically walk further back, but you don’t want to test his patience by giving him the impression you’re sneaking away, and you get the distinct sense that he’d take great offense to you walking side-by-side with him. 

“What’s your name?” He asks after a few minutes of walking. 

Well. Not like he’ll kill you for your name, right? And maybe knowing that, he’ll hesitate when it comes down to that… If. If it comes down to that.

You tell him your name, and he says nothing, not even acknowledging he heard you. …Whatever. You’re not repeating yourself. 

He doesn’t supply his own name, so you decide to ask. “And yours?”

“Scaramouche.” 

Then it’s silence once more. You realize that the men who were chasing you have stopped shouting, and you can’t hear their frantic search for you anymore. Did they give up? Do they know Scaramouche found you first?

He leads you into a room you recognize as the same one you fell into, sunlight illuminating the sparsely-decorated space. You also recognize the pyro agent who slashed your arm, already kneeling by the time your eyes adjust to the bright light. 

“Lord Scaramouche-”

“Save it. Get this hole fixed, and check the rest of the base for any other structural weaknesses. If we have any more surprise visitors,” Scaramouche gestures sharply towards you, “You’ll be joining them at the bottom of the ocean.” 

“...Yes sir.” The agent’s voice trembles, just slightly. 

You’re really starting to think it would have been better if anyone else had found you first, not missing the strained reediness in the agent’s voice that wasn’t there when he was trying to kill you. Another’s hands are shaking, barely visible from where you stand. Why are they so scared of him…?

“You.” Scaramouche turns to another one of his lackeys, not batting an eye at the way they visibly flinch, “Find me a first-aid kit. Bring it to my office.”

“Yessir.”

Your stomach sinks when Scaramouche starts walking again, not even sparing you a glance, just the silent expectation to “follow” as he sets off down the halls. 

The agent who attacked you mutters a quiet “poor thing” under his breath, and you pretend not to hear. Pretend not to feel the weight of their eyes watching the two of you leave. 

Once you’re out of earshot, Scaramouche stops, glancing over his shoulder at you, then at the bandana dangling loosely around your neck. “I think I’ll get you a collar, to replace that ugly thing.”

His eyes flit back up from your neck, and he laughs cruelly at your expression. “What? You should be thanking me. I’ve decided to let you live.”

Scaramouche doesn’t seem to be interested in any actual thanks from you, though, already turning back around and continuing to walk. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Maybe trouble doesn’t follow you after all, you think, as you trail stiffly behind him. Maybe you’ve been following trouble all along.

[taechaos]

A Thriller Film

pairing: director!Jungkook x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere, smut

synopsis: Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you.

warnings: smoking, stalking, murder, solo masturbation, public fingering

word count: 5.4k

a/n: i don't know why i put so much effort into this but we love to see it flop 🥰

Smoking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Jungkook noticed you for the first time when a cigarette was hanging off his lips, exhaling the stress from the process of organizing a new thriller film with a less than cooperative crew. Fresh out of high school, you were bright and skipping on the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning. What would such a young woman, applying for colleges left and right, be so happy about?

He didn't know you at the time, but looking at you was like a breath of fresh air. While he survived off of coffee and nicotine, you seemed to have a lot of happiness to share. Your smile was incompatible with his frown.

So he ignored you when you passed him with your earphones blasting a song so loud, he involuntarily caught the lyrics.

Fall... back... in... to... place.

The second time he saw you, he was smoking again and you were just as happy as the day before. How can someone be so in tune with themselves, with life? The same song played from your earphones, the one he listened to on repeat after searching up the lyrics: Space Song. An urge to approach you surged up in him, but he only watched you as you walked past him. A single glance from you was all it took to anticipate tomorrow.

Today, when he recognizes you from your clothing first; colorful, silky, gorgeous. So much personality in one outfit, a polar opposite to his casual black outfit in jeans and a plain shirt. Even your bag is eye-catching, and he flicked the ash off of his cigarette before nodding at you as you passed the bus stop, reaching the front of his studio.

Why did your eyes just widen? You acknowledge him with a friendly smile, and go on your merry way. That is until he lightly taps your shoulder, and you turn instantly.

"Hey," he greets before you can utter a word, "where are you always rushing off to?"

Your lips part in surprise; the man you secretly - guiltily - side-eyed for the past few days noticed you when you weren't looking? "I have an interview. Well, a few," you chuckle.

"For what?" he tilts his head curiously and takes another drag from his stick.

"Career counseling," you plainly reply, but it sounds enthused. "I'm a clueless graduate." Your hands clutch your tote bag before you discreetly check the time on your wrist. You're going to be running late soon.

"You interested in cinematography?" Smoke follows his words, but you aren't fazed.

"I'm interested in all forms of art, why?"

He notices you checking your watch again. "I'm a film director. This is my studio," he cranes his neck behind him. "You can apply for an internship here. Maybe for a stylist even," he points at your floral romper with his chin as his eyes trail.

You shift your weight on your left foot when his stare flusters you, and you consider his flattering suggestion for only a second before saying, "thank you for the offer, but I need to go now," you grimace sheepishly, "can I think about it?"

"Take your time," he reassures with a sly smile and inhales from his stick, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of your perfume alongside.

He doesn't look away when you walk off with a shy wave, entranced by your struts until he's called back in. It's with newfound inspiration that he's inside of his studio.

The storyboard of his upcoming project needs a few tweaks, and he doesn't fail in enhancing his crew with a different idea.

It’s been a week. Okay, it might’ve been shorter, but Jungkook is impatient. Besides, it didn’t help when he saw you holding hands with someone... so less than. It really baffled him to see you with a guy who wore such shabby clothes. He looks like the type that Jungkook would cast for a flop character.

The two of you are like a toy display across his studio in that cutesy, obnoxious café with a smoothie in the middle of your booth. He chuckles as he lights up another stick when he notices the two straws in the single cup. Cliché, cheesy, but cute in a childish sense. Your age shines through the amateur romance between you and that loser.

It especially shows when you look to the side with a laugh and lock eyes with him; so flustered that you gasp and focus back on your date. What makes you so shy about seeing him? You seemed so confident during your conversation two days ago.

He whistles when he notices a stray dog in an alleyway. You look at him as well but don't hear anything beyond the glass wall, but it catches his attention regardless. He whistles again before saying in a hushed voice, "come here girl." It's difficult to suppress a smile when you gaze at him questioningly, as if trying to decipher his words. "Naive little girl," he mouths as he smokes, "what are you doing with that boy?"

He almost chokes when you take out your wallet in front of a waiter; are you paying for him? That's why you ordered one drink - so you could share? Jungkook isn't cruel but, he finds it laughable that your boyfriend is so... unappealing. He can't help but wonder why you're with him; maybe his face? The boy is somewhat handsome, but he only has his facial features to go by. It's rather strange for Jungkook to think about this in the first place, so he gets back inside his workplace after harshly shooing the stray dog away with a stomp of his foot.

"I'd like to start my internship today."

Jungkook runs his eyes up and down your body while leaning against a brick wall. "Paid?"

"I-I'll do it for free. Besides, I don't know if I'll even work in this industry," you twiddle your fingers while smiling up at him. He intimidates you, but this morning you decided you did enough thinking and here you are, an aspiring stylist all of a sudden.

"Get inside," he nods at the door before stubbing his cigarette and following you to his studio. "You know what you're going to do?"

"I'm going to decide the outfits, right?" The place looks cozy to you, with its minimalistic interior design and blunt switch between the stories. The first floor is strictly for business, with lined up cameras, lights and a microphone. There is even a green screen! And the second floor seems to be more of a resting area with its couches and open laptops, but you can't make out much from the entrance. Jungkook starts walking ahead of you, making a beeline for the black stairs. You tail behind him and smile at anyone who notices you, which isn't a lot of people. It's not crowded.

"Right. We're still working on a storyline, haven't finished it yet so it's possible this project might not be published. You with me so far?" he glances at you, and at your firm nod, continues, "when we finish planning, scripting and shit, you come to play."

"So what do I do now?" you innocently inquire and watch him plop down on the red velvet couch. He clicks on the space of his keyboard to light up his screen.

"I have an idea for a character, and I want to know how you would design her," he vaguely explains as he scrolls through his document.

"You want me to sketch it or explain?"

"Let's hear you out first. Irene," he suddenly calls out loudly.

"Yes?" a female responds from downstairs. You see a woman with a grey cap look up at him, her attire nothing short of casual.

"Come here."

She skips a few steps while climbing up the stairs at his command. You're not awkward when you greet her, and she offers a coy smile.

"This girl - what did you say your name was?" he asks you. You tell him and he continues, "she's going to be our intern. I want you to critique her with me."

"What's she in for?" Irene asks before sitting across from him.

"Wardrobe stylist."

Her eyes widen as she takes a second look at you. Your style is definitely unique, but... immature. She has half the mind to not question Jungkook about his choice.

"Okay..." she trails. "I'm Irene, by the way. I'm going to be an executive producer for the upcoming film."

"Nice to meet you," you brightly chirp. "Sir?"

Jungkook smirks at your addressing of him. "Yes?"

"What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, but you may know me for my pen name Shin Dong-hyuk."

Your mouth falls open when you instantly recognize the name. "Wait, what? You directed My Time?" you incredulously wonder aloud.

My Time is a movie that took the world by a storm; it brought recognition to the whole country for its popularity and clever writing. You never knew the name was a pseudonym, however. It's a suspense genre, about the life of a crazed fanboy who is obsessed with a foreign celebrity. He stalks her on the internet, has a fanpage of her and pays a hefty amount of money to strangers to update him on her whereabouts. He's portrayed as a young college student in the story, and inevitably runs out of cash from reckless spending. When she gets into a dating scandal, he goes on a theft spree and flies out to meet and confront her. It ends with her murder when he finds her with another man in a hotel room, and he stabs himself in the heart afterwards. There are a bunch of clues that foreshadow his ending, from his family life to his friendships. It's an amazing thriller, and you researched his name in the credits to find more of his works after seeing the movie but to no avail; there is only one listed.

"That's me," he nonchalantly reveals as if he didn't just give you the shock of your life. "Don't tell anyone though, will you?"

You whimsically put on an imagery zipper over your mouth while trying to recover from your racing heart.

"I don't have a clear outline, but the female lead is going to be naive but charming. She has to stand out, alright? Happy, extraordinary, special."

"We didn't decide on that," Irene butts in with a displeased expression.

"I forgot to tell you, I deleted our previous plan."

"You did wh-"

"What do you think?" he turns to you as he ignores Irene's shrieks. "What color are you imagining?"

You feel nervous when he puts you on the spotlight after revealing his identity. You close your eyes with a deep inhale before answering, "I'm thinking red and green, like Christmas. There should be a hint of white as well."

Jungkook drinks in your outfit before grinning mischievously. "Perfect." All of your colors.

Stalking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Is it such a bad idea to follow you home when it's dark out? He kept you for a long time in the studio, allowing you to dress up a mannequin with all sorts of costumes you had in mind in the backroom. He's certain you had fun with him when you left with a permanent grin on your face.

You live with your parents, and he knows for sure he's at least 5 years older than you. You look about 19, so he's assuming he's only 8 years older.

A small villa with windows all around, he observes, before glancing back at your bedroom. The lights are on and you're swinging your legs with excitement on your bed after you face planted on the mattress. He didn't see you greet your parents before running off to your room, and he can't help the smile growing on his face at your hyperactivity. It was like an instinct to walk you home in secret and he isn't sure why he is still watching you. He should look away when you get off of your bed and heave your shirt over your chest, but instead he steps away from the lamp post to hide from the light.

You're changing, and he can't take his eyes off of you. As if that wasn't enough, you unclasp your bra without even pulling the curtains. Do you know he's there? The thought excites him, and his pants begin to tighten around his crotch. He lowly whistles at you, but you don't hear him again. You do look outside for a few seconds while stretching your arms, however, and he's certain you have a connection to him.

He leaves when you put on your pajamas with the image of your bare tits imprinted on his mind. He doesn't head home first, as the studio is only a few minutes away from your home and he wants to leave you a gift.

When the familiar building enters his vision, he doesn't waste time in unlocking the door and switching on a single dim light. He rushes to the backroom after locking the entrance for a second time and unzips his jeans as he goes. You were here not too long ago, and he can pinpoint exactly where you stood while striding to each corner with purpose. Bending, crouching, leaning, doing just about anything to tease him.

Now that he can imagine your perky nipples realistically, he immediately takes out his length from his restraints and picks up a random handkerchief to pump himself with. He doesn't stop to think over his actions; he's acting on urges, on impulse. Never has he ever done something like this.

He's rather relaxed as he sits down on an idle stool to close his eyes and run his hand up and down his shaft. What he would do to press your tits against his cock while he slides it up and down, smearing his cum all over your lips while you sleep. You would swallow it without a second thought once he finishes in your gaping mouth, and wonder why there's a dull ache in your breasts the next morning.

His breaths grow shallow the faster he strokes himself, the more he thinks about using every part of you for his pleasure while you're knocked out cold. He involuntarily thrusts into the air while quiet moans slip out of his open mouth. Something about how taboo it would be to fuck you while you're unconscious turns him on so much. Would that be something you're into?

The handkerchief is so soft, so silky against his length, he can almost imagine it to be your hand. He starts twisting his hand around his cock, from the base to the tip as his other hand palms his balls before he begins to reach climax. Strings of cusses fall out of his mouth when he quickens his pace, the fabric against his skin resounding in his ears before he finally spurts out his cum into the cloth.

"Fuck," he exhales as he coats his makeshift glove with his release. White on white doesn't make much of a difference, and he's panting as he folds the handkerchief to rub it evenly so it sinks in completely.

He leaves it on the stool after zipping his pants, and his eyes twinkle under the moonlight on his journey home.

You aren't alone when you walk to work. Jungkook is taking his usual smoke break while watching you swing your interlocked hands back and forth with the guy next to you. Your smiles exude the same aura, and Jungkook sarcastically notes how compatible the two of you are. The boxy grin shines with the sun, but it doesn't hide the boy's worn out clothes.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you greet before introducing your boyfriend. "This is Taehyung, Taehyung meet Jungkook. I'm going to be under his wing until I decide my major."

"Hello, Taehyung," Jungkook coldly says before blowing smoke in his face.

Taehyung scrunches his nose before chirping, "hi!" He then turns to you and whispers, "I thought you wanted to study medicine."

You shake your head dismissively with a light laugh before responding, "it's just an internship." You let go of his hand and bid farewell with a peck on his cheek before going inside the studio.

"Well, have a good day," Taehyung smiles as he's about to leave before Jungkook holds out his hand to block the way.

"Taehyung, who is your girlfriend?"

"Um," he furrows his brows before saying your name.

"And who are you?"

At Jungkook's blunt question, Taehyung pauses and takes a step back. "What do you mean? Like my full name?"

"No, who the fuck are you? What is your contribution to society? What do you do for a living? What are you wearing?"

"Sir, I-" Taehyung's stammering is cut short when Jungkook asks, "how much money for you to stop leeching off of her?"

He scoffs, "excuse me? I'm not leeching off of anyone, and I'm sure as hell not breaking up with her for your money." Taehyung's face heats up from the shameless confrontation, and he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"So you're not going to leave her?"

Taehyung doesn't turn to look at him as he emphasizes, "no."

"Good."

He abruptly stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Your dedication is admirable," Jungkook comments with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Were you testing me?"

"Bingo."

He starts chuckling before shaking his head. "I always knew directors were crazy; you scared me for a second."

"Where you headed now?" Jungkook smoothly switches the subject, but notes the fact that you've spoken about him to your boyfriend.

"I have a farm two blocks away." When Jungkook raises a brow, he explains, "I stayed the night with her, so I decided to drop her off before leaving."

"Want me to drop you off?"

It's a kind offer, really, but Taehyung is still put off by the insults thrown his way just a minute ago. Doesn't he have work to do anyway? "That's alright, thank you, but I'll just take the bus. Have a good one, Jungkook."

Jungkook doesn't stop him as they both wave goodbye. He doesn't bother putting out his cigarette before going inside.

Where would be a farm only two blocks away from the city center? It has to be a lie.

You're wandering around the place as to not awkwardly wait for Jungkook who sharply inhales at the sight. He calls your name.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to become?"

"I," you look at him funny with a laugh, "I still don't know."

"Then take a gap year."

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. "Why?"

"I want you to be invested in this project completely. Once the planning is finished, I'll give you a salary. What do you think?"

He's asking you to work full-time for him. Not as an intern, but an employee and you are beyond willing after only being here for two days. He's a famous director; how can one pass up this opportunity?

"I'd love that."

You noticed that Jungkook has a very unique way of working. You've heard that he's been keeping his crew until late at night, already having an outline for his plot and he's moved onto screenwriting. He apparently disappears randomly throughout the evening after you leave, and you've had some different experiences with him of your own.

He asked you to steal from the wardrobe of his backroom. "Take everything that you'd wear," he said before stepping out of the room.

When you confusedly compiled all of the clothes that caught your eye under your arm, he took them from you and brought them upstairs with a huge grin. "Keep that one," he pointed at the handkerchief you thought about lacing your neck with.

Taehyung's quiet with you. He doesn't respond to your texts, doesn't call you, doesn't come over. You're too busy spending time with Jungkook to check up on him, and it serves as a well distraction when you keep glancing at your notifications. It hurts, especially when your wallpaper is a picture of you and him. It hurts because he isn't with you in your proudest moments when you were with him even at his parents' funeral.

The only thing keeping you happy is casting. Jungkook asked you to make a list of all the actors that would suit his characters after giving you a vague description of their traits. The budget isn't an issue, and you're having so much fun. He makes you forget your worries without even trying.

Jungkook intimidates you, but he's so lovely.

A mere "aspiring" stylist is casting actors for a movie. How many people can brag about that? You almost stumble on the stairs as you quickly climb up with Jungkook's laptop in your hands. He gave it to you for research purposes as he drew a rough storyboard with Irene.

"I made a list," you exclaim brightly. Heads shoot in your direction and you sheepishly grin at your volume. Jungkook's eyes linger on your covered neck; it's almost like a collar.

He whistles and beckons you to sit next to him. You obey and anxiously present your list to the professionals; you have no idea how to go on about this task, and no one guided you. You're certain you look utterly amateur in front of them.

Irene is inspecting your list without hinting her thoughts as Jungkook asks, "who are your favorites?"

"Well, I think Kim Namjoon is um, suitable for the male lead's role and Joy-"

"It's decided then," he claps his hands twice without hearing out Irene who scowls at him.

"You're not cooperating with us," she voices in a complaint, "why are you always calling the shots on your own? These are major decisions-"

"Ms. Bae, don't take any offence now. I'm taking your opinions into accounts when I make these decisions. Unless you have an issue with something, let's not dwell on this, hm?"

She sighs as you stand there awkwardly. She's upset, but stays silent.

"The two leads are Kim Namjoon and Park Soo-young. The team will decide the rest of the cast, thank you," he informs you with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," you breathe.

You don't know how long it is supposed to take to shoot a film, but surely it's not this fast paced. Jungkook is relentless with his production; there are hardly any breaks in between takes. There are bags under his eyes from pulling all nighters to work on his scripts.

He is a perfectionist and a hard worker, as you've come to find out. You feel bad for the amount of times the actors recited their lines when they didn't capture a scene right in Jungkook's eyes. It was an honor for you to meet these famous people beyond a screen, and you were strictly ordered to do Joy's makeup only. You are her stylist, but the professional one does help you after she's finished with Namjoon's.

"Cut," Jungkook says into the speaker. You're located in a rented mansion outside of the city, but you can't enjoy it when everyone is so stressed. "Start over from line "he's leeching off of you"."

Even actors can't hide their annoyance from having to do a 25th take of one scene. Jungkook pays them enough to go on with this torture however, so they have no room to complain.

They start over and you force yourself to watch them again and again.

"Oh my god, cut!" You can hardly resist groaning yourself. Everyone on set is overworked, and you know the director has it the worst, but it's overwhelming you too at this point. You flinch when your name is called. "Act Joy's lines, will you?"

"Me?" you point at yourself in surprise.

"Go ahead," he urges with a nod.

You have no idea how to act, and it's nervewracking having to do it in front of A-listers. You pick up the script handed to you from another woman and start reading:

"He's not leeching off of me," you pause to inhale shakily; your hands tremble from the heavy stares on you.

"I'm his family, the only one he has left. No one would know if he was gone, and he trusts me to look after him without having to dangle a dollar bill over his head."

This goes on until the final scene, and the retakes cut down to half.

A few months pass, and it is time for the premiere. The movie, simply titled Pretty Girl, easily got a green light for display in theatres, and it's been heavily promoted on YouTube and TV. You are excited to your core, and watching the celebrities walk the red carpet was a first for you. Jungkook easily blends in with the crowd as he once again didn't reveal his real name in the credits, but his pen name is gaining more and more recognition. You have never seen the movie throughout the editing procedure, but you can't wait to see everyone's efforts show on the big screen.

You're dressed fancily because Jungkook asked you to go with him, and the two of you are sitting in the crowded theatre with not a single empty seat to be seen. Even the entrance is decorated in retro style to fit in with the movie's theme! The jazz music playing in the halls reaches your ears, and your knees are bouncing in anticipation of the movie. Jungkook is smiling as he listens to you ramble.

"I can't believe I played a part in this whole project!" you gush with shaking fists. "I met the best director I know, and I worked for him! This all feels like a dream... No one even likes my style, and yet I became a stylist!"

"I love your style," he denies, "even now you have all the attention in the room."

"Pfft," you roll your eyes playfully, "they all think I must look weird. I tried to wear something classy so I don't stand out, but it hasn't been working out."

"Keep it that way, you're beautiful like this."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks at his compliment and you squeak, "thank you."

He doesn't get to relish your flustered state as everyone goes quiet once the movie starts.

The time period is unclear, as the language is modern but the filter is black and white. The first scene is in a bar, a man in a suit eyeing a woman with a date who is an outcast with his clothes. They're washed out and ugly, but he looks handsome with his dazzling smile at the woman.

An involuntary grin spreads across your face when you hear their dialogue.

"I want to touch someone's shoulder to see how they react. Did you see how they looked at me when I walked in here? I think they think I'm your sugar baby or something," Jimin's character jokes with a laugh.

"I know! They're all so boujee, but I'm willing to be your mommy without sugar," Joy winks. They have fun until Jimin leaves to the bathroom and Namjoon's character approaches her, who has been staring at her ever since they walked in. Joy is offered a modeling career, and she accepts after she's told that her fashion only works with her because of how beautiful she is. She's bashful when Namjoon gives her a business card.

Jungkook's film is only over an hour long, but everything is timed so perfectly. His directory is straightforward, and you admire his work until a song comes on.

"That's my favorite song!" you whisper into his ear. It's Space Song by Beach House.

"Mine too," he whispers back.

There are montages of photo shoots, Joy's rise to fame in the modeling industry, but the trouble is Jimin, her boyfriend. Namjoon confronts him one day when Jimin drops her off to her new workplace.

"How can someone so poor be able to court a woman like her?" he asks rhetorically.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Jimin is offended until Namjoon laughs it off and reveals it was a joke. The audience sighs in relief, and all is fun and games until Jimin is brutally murdered next to a dumpster. You gasp at the gore scene and glance at Jungkook, until something dawns on you.

The story is starting to sound familiar. Was this movie inspired by your encounters? Your eyes light up as you give your utmost attention to the movie. The line between reality and fiction is beginning to blur.

Joy goes to Namjoon's house, where the dialogue you first reenacted comes to play. The shots are gorgeous, the script filled with metaphors on poverty and currency, and the romance is sickly sweet. There is a sex scene not long after... Joy forgets all about her boyfriend in the snap of Namjoon's fingers.

You tilt your head when you remember Taehyung. Where is he? How come your boyfriend didn't even show up to this life-changing experience?

Jungkook's hand slides over your thigh out of nowhere, as he murmurs, "do you mind?"

You stammer when his fingers reach under your dress to poke at your panties. "S-Sorry?"

"I said," he grazes your folds as you tense at the feather light touch, "do you mind if I touch you, pretty girl?"

Your chest heaves as your lashes flutter in a daze, but you nod nonetheless. His low raspy voice already has you clenching your thighs, unintentionally trapping his hand against your pussy. He's gentle, almost curious with the way he runs his fingers over your silky underwear before he moves it to the side. You're shivering with delight and thrill, and you don't take your eyes off of each other as he begins to flick your clit carelessly.

"Looks so pretty on you," he compliments the makeshift choker on your neck. It's his handkerchief you wore for the occasion, unaware that it's dried with cum. He pulls on the knot like it's a collar, and you're entranced. Your pants fan his lips at the close proximity, and he doesn't shy away from slotting his mouth against yours. You quietly moan into the kiss when his thumb starts to rub your clit, and his long finger pokes at your entrance.

"You mind?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slightly slurred as he doesn't stop kissing you. The wet noises are drowned out by the loud volume of the movie, but you can't focus on what's going on.

"I don't," you breathe before he slips in two fingers, exploring your walls with precision. He's multitasking as he circles your sensitive clit, and you're not very experienced in regards to sexual encounters but your hand lands on his hard-on anyway.

"Don't be shy," he chuckles into your neck, "touch it."

You don't know what you're doing when you slip your hand under his pants and palm him over his briefs, but his sigh is encouraging you. You're touching each other in a room of 100 people.

It's embarrassing when his free hand joins yours to help you touch him while simultaneously fingering you. He must have sensed your lack of confidence, because he starts to stroke his erection over your hand. You start to imagine his fingers as the real thing, and with your particularly low stamina, have a hard time suppressing your whines.

"Kiss my neck," he suggests as a solution to your nibbling. You didn't even realize your nether lip is bleeding from how hard you were biting on it. You bury your head in his shoulder and start pecking his neck. He holds back a laugh at how shy you're being, and he feels proud for predicting this moment perfectly in the movie. Joy is having the time of her life with Namjoon, unaware of Jimin decaying in the attic.

He quickens his pace in your cunt, and you bite him rather harshly at the sensation. He hisses with a chuckle; he likes it when you're impulsive. He can pick up the squelches from his thrusts because of how wet you are, and you climax all over his fingers in a matter of seconds with a whimper. You're twitching in your seat, and your hand strokes him faster but he stops you.

"In my studio," he says and you nod tiredly against his shoulder. The issue isn't that he doesn't want to cum in his pants, but the movie needs to become reality. He wants to fuck you on that one stool, with Taehyung's corpse decomposing in the backroom.

Jungkook always adds a pinch of fiction to his stories, but they're mostly based on true events. If you paid attention to the ending, maybe you would've realized that.

Lying is bad, but there are worse things in life.

[clouds-regression]

Octonauts when you have a bad day <3

Barnacles

He's really awkward, but he'll give you a big bear hug and just let you cry on his shoulder. Then he'll break out the colouring books<3

Kwazii

He'll sort of just leave you alone at first, but if it lasts a long time, he'll start nagging you with fear he did something.

Peso

#1 therapist friend. He'll notice right away and give you a little checkup. He'll hug you and he'll let you vent for hours, giving you advice as both a friend and a medic.

Dashi

She'll also notice right away, but she'll give you space at first. When you're not better, she'll approach you and offer to do a spa day. During your spa day, she'll tell you little details about her childhood to push you to tell her about your day.

Shellington

He's super awkward, but he tries. He'll take you into his lab and get you to help him study some new creature to take your mind off of the day. He'll tell you everything he already knows, and then tell you the goal of the research with this creature.

Inkling

He'll set up a little nap area inside the library and invite you in. He'll read some books, and he'll ask you to tell him some stories. He'll do this until you fall into a much needed sleep.

Tweak

She won't do anything unless you go to her for help, and then she'll try her best. She'll allow you to help her with some new invention, or she'll play videogames with you. She'll push until you're comfortable telling her whats up.

Tracker

They'll use advice torn from the internet. They'll help you breathe, and they'll make sure not to leave your side so you don't hurt yourself. They might try to armchair diagnose you, but they will still help you the best they can.

Natquik

He'll ignore you unless you go to him. He'll then give you unsolicited advice that actually works really well, and he'll let you stay with him for a bit until you cheer up.

Calico Jack

Honestly, he has no idea what to do, but like Kwazii, he'll think he did something and he'll try to make up for it every way possible. You will be getting pirate pie, pirate stew, a treasure map, maybe a couple treasures...even if he didn't do anything, you will be happy by the end of the day.

Pinto

He'll just misbehave until you're too frustrated to remember your bad day. Then he'll do some really funny stuff to make you forgive him.

Ryla

She's really awkward, and she'll sort of just reassure you saying stuff like "tomorrows a new day" and "you'll be okay". She'll give you a really awkward side hug and pat you on the back.

Koshi

She'll offer a read a thon, and if you don't want to do that, she'll tell you about her favourite Donna Doxie book and the entire plot.

Pearl

She's super sweet about it. "Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?" If you say yes, she'll just sit there and listen, saying things like "I get it" and "I understand how hard that must be". She'll only give advice when you ask for it, and she gives great advice.

Min

She'll show you a few old maps and get you to help her renew them to take your mind off of everything. She'll tell you she's there for you when you need her, and that she's always there to chat.

Paani

If you have a bad day, his day will turn bad. He'll try to help you the best he can, but he's really not good with communication, so you might get a couple Paani Patties or Fish Biscuits, but don't expect much affection.

[tobesobri]

Traditions | 17.3k

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

prompt: doube date

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know her.”

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

“Couple weeks.”

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

“Well at least I’ve had one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, way to make us feel incompetent.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N wait, I have to—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like I’d lower my standards for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She recoiled. “Um… why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A double date? With your ex?”

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

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

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

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

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

“At this party… and bef—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathed out a laugh. “It’s Adam.”

She knew it had started with an A!

“Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was… pathetic. To say the least.

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

“So… what’s in the box?”

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

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

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

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?”

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

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

“I don’t look at her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He flinched. “Did she say something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t have to—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

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

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

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

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

This would be a long, hellish night.

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

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

Adam just shrugged.

“How did you guys meet?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it’s the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laura returned shortly after that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put your seatbelt on.” He whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned again, “Afraid I already am.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confusion flooded her features as she peered up at him. 

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

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

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

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

“Are you saying yes?”

Y/N hesitated. “Is she back?”

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

“She is.” He finally announced. 

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

He was still there.

Still watching.

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

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

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

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

“That was quite the show.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t.”

“So then what is this?”

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

Harry didn’t say anything.

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

“Him kissing you seemed quite real to me.”

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

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

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

“You still kissed him though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making out with Adam in the middle of the room. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the other part?”

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

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

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

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the date is over now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right… I’d be upset too.” 

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

She froze and he chuckled at her reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

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