#pages will update once a week from now on again :>

[kogitosk]

Page 10

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cameos included in panel 3: (tagged names are the creator’s ig accounts, please check them out! they all make amazing comics!! Acornpaw @calicotales_ Sunny @_lefabb Icefern @packo.comics Leafheart @tigersunii Ratpaw @mars_isnotaplanet Sunny/Sunbeam @xsilencee

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[buttercuparry]

I am sorry to come across your dash over and over again, but I cannot stop now, not when my friend Siraj is ONCE AGAIN  facing a stagnating campaign. 

He has raised  only $226 CAD in the past 12 hours, which is a considerable drop from the last few days!

Siraj ( @siraj2024 ) cannot afford to slow down, and he cannot afford to come online whenever he wants to and request your help. You have to understand that with the bombing and destruction of every infrastructure of communications in Gaza Strip, be it cell towers or internet cables, it is a struggle for him to share even his daily updates. 

As early as October 27 2023, this collapse of connectivity was confirmed by NetBlocks and Paltel services posted the following message on their Facebook page, “ We regret to announce a complete interruption of all communications and internet services within the Gaza Strip"

So every piece of news, every update made now comes with the cost of a journey fraught with danger!!!

Siraj struggles daily to reach a cafeteria on the sea shore, where he can access a  hotspot connection in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money.  However as a journalist, he refuses to compromise with telling the truth– this means undertaking this taxing 3 km journey  under a blazing afternoon sun. On top of the constant migraines it gives him,  he has to contend with the constant threat that hangs over his life the entire journey due to incessant bombing.

The prices do not help him either. There is transportation costs, there is Internet cost. So whenever you see Siraj post, whenever you see him in your dms, know that Siraj is burning away what little money he has on him, to get the world to hear him.

And all of this just adds onto my horror and shame of what happened on tumblr in the last few days. The more I learn, the more I know, I am sickened to think of how some bloggers, sitting in their comfortable homes, can so easily dismiss the struggle it takes Gazans to reach out to us and have the audacity to call them scammers.

Siraj remains  undaunted by all this abuse. He has a message for all instead:

“ This primitive life will not defeat us. We will not stop conveying our message via the Internet. We will not forget anything of who we were. We will not be you and you will not be us no matter how long the darkness lasts."

So please, do not turn away from this wonderful man. Do not turn away from this brave man. 

Help him rebuild his home. Help him get to 30k within the next week!!

 This is a big step forward from the indignity he has been forced into.

Boost and donate! He is on Hussein and Nabulsi’s list at no 219 so please dont hesitate. 

[illyrianbitch]

Memories

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: While packing some boxes, Azriel is overwhelmed by memories of your relationship.

Warnings: slight angst if you squint, established relationship, fluff fluff fluff :)

Word Count: 2.1k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The apartment was a mess of half-packed boxes and disheveled belongings.

The scent of change hung in the air, thick and heavy— and Azriel was choking on it.  He stood in the middle of the chaos, a forlorn expression etched onto his usually composed face. The bedroom was empty now, save for a few scattered objects and packed cardboard boxes, ready to be taped and taken away. 

Azriel wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He had expected a certain amount of sadness with the move, a certain feeling of leaving something that had once meant the world to him. Even still, he was struggling with the swelling in his heart. He felt his wings behind him now, heavy and tense, as he looked around the room, gaze landing on his various packed boxes. 

He could hear chatter downstairs, could hear Cassian’s laughter and Mor’s grumbling. Azriel’s shadows were downstairs now, too, as they had stayed for the past two weeks of moving out. There was one lone shadow that bounced between the floors, updating Az on every movement and conversation— Cassian had accidentally taped Mor’s hair while attempting to fix up the final living room boxes. Mor had accidentally hit Cassian in the face as a response.

Azriel let out a deep breath, walking towards one of the many opened boxes. His golden-brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he gingerly lifted a delicate porcelain teacup. His fingers traced the intricate floral design and a memory washed over him.

It was a rainy afternoon, the kind where the world outside seemed to blur into a grey mist.  Azriel had come to visit, carrying various items that Feyre wanted to drop off but couldn't herself due to her growing belly. It had begun to pour while he was there— in the small apartment he now stood in. You had insisted he stayed, insisted that the weather was too awful for him to make it home. He didn’t have the heart to tell you he’d traveled in worse conditions. And in all honesty, he had found himself unable to leave, anyway. 

You’d invited him into your kitchen, brewed some tea and sat across from him, the table complete with mismatched cups and saucers. Azriel had his wings folded neatly behind him as he sipped the floral tea you brewed, nervous about how large he appeared to you, worried about knocking any one of your small decorations over. The sound of your laughter, bright and unrestrained, had filled the room as you both fell into a natural conversation. He realized that afternoon, in the gloomy grey weather, the awful things he’d do to see you smile again.

And was then he was met with the comforting realization that he didn’t need to do those awful things at all— because you’d asked to see him again once the downpour stopped. 

A sad smile tugged at Azriel’s lips as he carefully wrapped the teacup in tissue paper. Setting it aside, he reached for a worn, leather-bound journal, its pages filled with scribbled, heavy-handed notes. The sight of it tugged at his heart, another memory pulling him under.

You had given him the journal during one of the quieter nights at the townhouse, your fingers brushing his as you handed it over. “For your thoughts,” you had whispered, your eyes sparkling with encouragement.

Azriel had never been a journal lover before, had never been one to write down his feelings, his thoughts, or observations. His job was to observe, yes, but he never thought about it farther than that, had never thought about what he could do with those things he realized, where he could put the multitudes of thoughts that often clouded his mind. 

You had been the first one to ever suggest it— suggest it in a way that was sincere and genuine. You told him that it would be worth it, and when he had made a comment about no one wanting to read what he had to say, you had simply said, “I do. I always want to know what you’re thinking. But that doesn’t matter. No one but you matters.”

So Azriel had taken to it immediately, filling its pages with thoughts, concerns, and observations of various moments— he grew to adore it over time. It helped him with his impulsivity, with his anger, with his loneliness. Even his shadows had grown to love the hobby, had learned to sleep as he wrote away, had learned to delicately ghost the words on the pages as Azriel scratched away his thoughts. 

Azriel’s heart clenched as he placed the journal down and a wave of emotion ran through him like a heavy tide. Tears pricked at his eyes and he swallowed, moving on to the next item—a small, crystal vial filled with shimmering stardust. 

It was the first Starfall since he’d fallen for you, and the night sky had been alive with dancing glittering souls. You managed to catch a handful of stardust, bottling it as a keepsake of the perfect evening. Azriel still remembered how beautiful you looked, how nervous he had been to talk to you that he ended up making some joke about you bottling up a dead spirit for eternity. You only laughed, a sound that he wished he could’ve bottled up in a vial, saved for later like you had done with that stardust. You stared at the glass vial, admired the shimmering glow for a few moments as Azriel had admired you. Then you had given it to him with a whisper: "For you. Even in the darkest times, there's always light." 

He didn’t know how to tell you the gift wasn’t needed, didn’t know how to tell you that you were enough light for him. He’d taken it with shaky fingers— which he prayed to The Mother you hadn’t noticed— and kept the vial in his leathers on every rough mission. It became his talisman, a beacon of hope and love. A connection to you. 

A lump grew in the back of Azriel’s throat.

“I got the tape!”  

Your voice echoed throughout the hall as you rounded the corner, a delicate smile on your face.

The smile quickly fell at the sight of your mate and you stilled, his shadows swirling around you before descending to the ground, quickly dancing over to his form. The room smelled of a bittersweet sadness, of something longing, heavy, and sad. 

"Az, what's going on?” You asked softly, placing the tape on top of the open box before him. “Why are you crying?"

Azriel blinked rapidly, shaking his head softly before turning to look down at you. "I'm not crying," he said. He offered you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes— the same eyes that seemed deep in thought, seemed contemplative and conflicted.

“Azriel.” You gave him a knowing look and gently placed your hands on his face, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. "What's wrong?" 

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. And then he took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His lips were soft against your skin, his kiss feather-light and almost sacred. A warmth inside you blossomed at the softness of his touch, and you let out an appreciative, loving hum.

Azriel brushed the pad of his thumb along your fingers. His gaze fell to your left hand, to the golden ring that adorned your ring finger. A smile grew on his face. He traced it with his thumb, running over the cool metal, inspecting the intricate patterns he had the jeweler carve into the ring— something special just for you. Something as unique as the unbreakable bond you shared.

"It's just strange," Azriel said quietly. He lowered your hands. "I never thought I'd be here. I never imagined ending up so happy.”

You tilted your head at him, feeling your lips fall into a small pout. Azriel only looked at you with a sense of adoration painted through his features. He let out a small breath before he continued, taking a moment to scan the empty room once more.  “I'm sad to leave this apartment because it has so many memories.”

"Oh Az," you said softly, your voice almost a comforting coo.  "I'm sad too. We made some great memories here."

Azriel nodded, his gaze growing distant as he recalled the life he had built here, the life he had fought for with you. He thought of the many times he’d walked you home, when this apartment had just been yours— slightly too big for just one person, slightly too empty that even you felt like it was missing something. He thought about the first time he spent the night, how his shadows fell into place, how they strangely adored the corners of your home, the wood-paneled hallways and plaster banisters. He thought about the day he moved in, how he woke up in the middle of the night afraid that it had all been a dream, only to be lulled back to sleep by your soft whispers, gentle touch, and a whole lot of sweet, sleepy sex. 

He let out a small, content laugh. "We did."

You tugged on his hand, pulling his focus back to you. When his eyes met yours, his gaze softened, and you felt a glow in your chest. You gave that divine thread between you a small tug, felt it sing deep within your ribs. A rush of life flowed through you, something bright and hopeful. The air around you changed, less bittersweet now, less heavy. You smiled gently. 

"Now we'll make even more memories in a place that’s big enough for all of us."

It was then that you pulled his hand towards you, taking his large palm and placing it on your stomach. His fingers splayed over the growing bump you now adorned. From underneath your hold, you felt a release of tension in Azriel’s hands. 

Tendrils of shadow hovered over his touch, gently dancing across your stomach as Azriel admired the sight before him. His voice was tender as he whispered, "How did I ever get so lucky?”

He blinked, tears welling up in his eyes again. He flickered his gaze back to your face, meeting your eyes instantly. They mirrored his own, welled up with tears that brimmed on your waterlines. You laughed softly. 

The sound rippled through Azriel’s body and he felt himself melt even further into you. Even his shadows simply sat atop your belly now, almost unmoving, as if they too were admiring you— admiring all that you were. They had taken a specific liking to you since you’d gotten pregnant, never leaving your side unless it was absolutely necessary— Azriel was grateful for it, grateful that there was always one lone tendril that would keep him company, too, that would update him on you whenever he wasn’t in the room. 

“You know, I'm the pregnant one with all these hormones, not you," you teased.

Azriel chuckled, eyes shining with love. The muscles of his cheeks ached with the deepness of his smile.  "Forgive me if I get a bit emotional thinking about the love of my life and our future child."

You felt your knees almost buckle, felt something flutter in your stomach at his words. The love of his life and his future child. You and your future child. 

"My sweet, sappy mate."

He laughed again, the sound rich and full of life. He pulled you into a gentle embrace. "I love you," he said, his voice now carrying a sincerity that made you breathless, a tone that spoke of a vow and a promise. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every feature. 

Oh how you hoped your child got his eyes, got the beautiful hazel they contained, the flicker of brown, dots of green. You hoped your child got his laugh too, the deep rumble that made you feel love in every way possible. You blinked away a few growing tears. 

"And I love you," you replied, your heart swelling with joy. You stepped back, giving him a gentle nudge. "Okay, now get to packing because my feet hurt and I'm really craving some ice cream."

Azriel grinned, shaking his head as he watched you walk away. His shadows trailed after you, except for one that lingered behind, wrapping around his hand as he reached for the packing tape.

He looked down at the shadow, a smile tugging at his lips as its gentle, calm movement. "Alright,” he murmured, “Let's finish this up and get our girl some ice cream.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[infamous-if]

✮ CH. 2 PART I ✮ 92k (+86k) -> 178k ✮

PLAY CHAPTER 2: PART I

It's here! First, sorry for the long wait. Chapter 2 has proven to be a behemoth, and I'd gotten sick this past week, my computer broke, my documents went kaput and I had to do some Frankensteining for the last few pages of this part. I'm not too worried, as Part II update can help smooth out all the kinks. I will definitely be looking for beta testers once chapter 2 is complete ha

Anywho! Enough about my problems. This demo update adds 86k words (86, 818 to be exact) and is the first part of a two part chapter. Which means the narrative in this chapter is not complete, but I kind of closed it off at a pretty satisfying place. As with every Infamous chapter, this is very character driven. So have fun!

What to expect in Chapter Two PART I:

get on the bus & deal with the consequences of your actions lol

arrive to your first tour stop and do your first gig...which might get messy (both literally and figuratively)

hang with a familiar father and daughter duo

have some heart to hearts/ some cheeky little POV passages

meet more BOTB crew and learn exactly what's in store for you this season

get roped in some ValenReign mess !

Maintenance:

this chapter has a lot of flavor text, or at least, more than the demo did, so if there are any errors or if there are lines that don't correspond with your choices, please let me know so i can fix that!

you will no longer be forced to write your own lyrics and the update will offer you pre-written lyrics by yours truly. im not t swift so i would advise you not to expect professional level songwriting, but they work well enough lolol

lyrics page is up as well as stats, but i don't really like the system i used to balance it, mostly because new...stat things will be added as the story goes on, so that's still getting reworked. still, good enough for now, as there are some personality stat checks!

Prologue and Chapter 1 errors/typos/grammatical bits fixed. (Wouldn't be surprised if I missed some though...) + variables updated.

Scenes not showing up fixed. hopefully, that huge error in which it throws you back to the fight after returning to the house is fixed (It was a bit wonky for me, hopefully it works for everyone else)

Stat and relationship pages updated ( + lyric page to look back at all your lyrics).

Can choose to be asexual and any sexual scenes will be skipped or replaced with romantic scenes. Flavor text in which MC displays any sort of sexual desire will be skipped. (This option comes up during Dakota's party scene. If not, it will show up when it presents itself again.) (Nothing sexual has come up yet, but if there are any scenes or even lines/ internal thoughts that should be skipped or changed for Asexual MCs, please let me know!)

If there are errors or anything, im always open. I've play tested but you girl is always prone to errors. As always, thank you for your love and enthusiasm! It makes me really happy and motivates me to keep writing ! <3

(Also, if you're thinking "omg amy how did you go from 65k to 86k?!" i don't want to talk about it /j)

See you on tour!

[upsidedownsmore]

Hollowframe 57 + Umbra, my submission for the TennoCon 2024 Community Showcase!

Sorry that it took this long to post! This update is special for many reasons, and I'll go through them all here!

First up, Dante AND Jade!

This is the first time I've added two frames to the project at once, rushing to get both finished in time for Tennocon. In order to do so I had to skip making backgrounds for them, however I still plan on making them as soon as I'm able!

You can find more details about the delay and my change of plans regarding their solo compositions in the thread here

In addition to the two new frames, I also took the liberty to rework and tweak a bunch of the older designs that I felt weren't fitting the goal of the project well enough. It was nice drawing simpler designs again! (old on left, new on right)

Here's a timelapse of the changes made to the poster! Tumblr can only have one video per post, so you can find a twitter reply with videos for Dante and Jade here!

Now to get sappy, cause this poster had two journeys through Tennocon! The first being that it got accepted into the community showcase, so here's pics of that! What an absolute honor omg

The second journey was my own personal print, which got signed by so many amazing and lovely people from DE!! I'm SO glad I got the poster printed for myself from Mercury Blueprinting the day of TennoVIP oh my lorrrrd

I might as well add that you can also find all this in my new ArtStation portfolio! Link to it here:

Aaand if you want to check out the Hollowframe Google Drive folder for free or more, it's now available on my new Ko-fi! Link to it here:

Previous Hollowframe update:

I think that's it! There's no way I would have ever guessed how far this project would go when I started it 3 years ago. Thank you guys so much for the support throughout the years, just absolute insanity and i'm losing my ability to word good i still cant get over iiiiiiiiiiiit

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

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The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 33 (2024)

By Aj, Dion, Briar, Jen and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

The new year is upon us!

To give us more free time during the holidays, the Team decided to merge last and this week’s Issues together.

The same will be done with the next Issue, which will come out on January 4th! This makes this Issue the last Issue of the year.

More feedback?

As the year comes to an end we in the WNIIF team are once again looking for feedback! The goal of this form is to find out our readers' preferences and wishes, so we can make the 2025 edition even better!

Please spare a few minutes to fill it out. None of the questions are required, so you can answer only what you want!

Small Talk with Harris Powell-Smith! @hpowellsmith

Our Interviewers are currently working on a Interview with the awesome Harris Powell-Smith, an award-winning narrative designer and writer of the Crème de la Crème series and Blood Money!

Do you have something you always wanted to ask them? Now is your chance! Send us a message on one of our socials or send us an e-mail. We’ll ask them for you!

We hope you enjoy this new issue!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

~ BE A PART OF THE ZINE ~

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

Contact us through Tumblr asks, Forum DMs, or even by email! And thank you for your help!!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : Velox Turbo 2 ~

December 13th to 17th 2024

Velox Turbo is a challenge edition of Velox Fabula (or "Quick Story"), which is a ranked jam about making a complete visual novel based on a community-determined theme, hosted by robobarbie and Allie Vera. The Velox Turbo edition gives creators 4 days (instead of the usual 10) to complete their project, encouraging speed, accurate scope setting, and creativity.

The Velox jam series is heavily inspired by Ludum Dare, a global game jam about making a game from scratch based on a certain theme in a short amount of time.

This Jam's theme: The Eye of the Beholder, was revealed at the start of the jam. Voting was held across several rounds in the week leading up to the jam starting.

Other themes in the Velox jam series were:

Unreliable Narrator

Morally Ambiguous Promise

Enemies with Benefits

Flower Symbolism

Doomed by the Narrative

Trapped with Someone

Forbidden Romance

You Shouldn't Be Here

Participants can now vote for their favourites until December 31st. There are six categories: Overall, Theme Incorporation, Narrative, Visuals and Sound. Even tho you can't vote unless you submitted your own work, definitely check out at least one of the 15 entries!

~ ENDED ~

The voting for A Very Hallmark Game Jam is over. Check out the results!

This year’s Yuri Game Jam is in over. There’s an unbelievable number of 109 entries to check out!

Another bitsy jam has ended. You can now check out 8 entries with the theme "better late than never".

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Media depicting healthy examples of polyamory isn’t that common. The PolyJamorous 2024 is trying to break the status-quo!

The Queer Winter Game Jam is in full swing. Those interested can submit their work until January 16th 2025.

ShuffleComp is a musical interactive fiction competition where you make games based on songs, which are submitted by other entrants. Creators have until January 20th 2025 to upload their works.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

Are you perhaps a fan of more somber, melancholic themes? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam! You have until the end of the year to participate.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

IF Short Games Showcase 2024 is a great way to shine some new light on your projects made in the past year (Jan 1, 2024 to Dec 31, 2024), regardless of whether or not they are previously released! You have until January 15th 2025 to join.

Winter Visual Novel Jam 2024 is here! You have until January 1st 2025 to submit your projects.

Are you familiar with Decker? Then why not take a part in the Deck-Month 2?

SeedComp! is a 2-round interactive fiction game jam, focusing on creativity and the growth of ideas and the Sprouting Round has just started! Check out the Planting round for inspiration.

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Gentleman, Adventurer, Crocodile (Forked) is a twenty-second romp around the Victorian world in the company of an adventurous crocodile. It is a story filled with wondrous lands, strange people, wealth, power, friendship, betrayal, shipwreck and delicious pastry.

Murder Gods Play Pachinko (Super Videotome Engine) - A group of friends gathers in a remote house for the first time in two years. This is the place where Kaya took his life. Tensions are high, to say the least. The snowstorm isn't letting up. It appears they're trapped. The only company they have is each other. Little do they know -- time isn't on their side. He's on his way.

A new era begins in Maroland… The Ancient Talking Dragons have nearly all been annihilated… The Elves hide in their ancient mansions. The future belongs to humans… However, naive human wizards long for immortality. It’s only a matter of time before one of them finds something they can’t control. The Elves of Maroland is now available for free downloading in English language.

You are a prisoner of the jaguar empire, being forcibly marched by your captor to the blood pits at the heart of the empire. In your condition, your choices are limited -- but you refuse to let them have you. Escape your captor, explore the continent, and struggle for survival in this unique text-based roguelike, Wild Continent (Unity).

Echoes in the Deep (Twine) is an atmospheric, choice-driven narrative game set in a failing underwater research station. As Dr. Evelyn Moore, you must uncover the station's secrets, restore failing systems, and escape before time runs out. Will you survive the depths, or will its mysteries drag you under?

Calmaria is the newest companion app developed by the Design School in partnership with the Informatics College, the Student Engagement Office, and the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Office of the University of ≭∘⊊⊚. Please enjoy Calmaria.

Dive even deeper into the world of A Date with Death with an all-new route. Starting with a fresh Day 6 and unfolding all the way through Day 10, this DLC brings you new conversations, stunning art, four new endings, and of course, the same beloved Grim Reaper. - A Date with Death - Beyond the Bet (Ren’Py). @twoandahalfstudios

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Everyone knows vampires: bloodthirsty, unholy creatures, some barely any better than animals. You never thought you'd become one yourself. You're a believer in the new gods - but here you are, trying not to feel that they've abandoned you. Feed, fight, and flee from the sun, all while looking for a cure to turn your life, or lack of it, right again in Glass Fangs (Twine). @glassfangsif

You are the heir to the Dracian kingdom, born of dragon blood and royal lineage—but you know nothing of this truth. To protect you from the tyrannical king of Dracia—your own grandfather—your parents sacrificed their lives. They hid you away, ensuring the prophecy that foretells his downfall would survive, even if they could not. - Rise of the Forsaken (CScript).

Dazzling phantom thief heists, romantic meetings in the dead of night, and making a name for yourself; The Mysterious Thief, Forget Me Not (Ren’Py) is a mostly linear girl's love visual novel that features multiple POVs throughout. The story is set in the fictional city of Twinbells, England, and shows how the lives of our four main characters are changed forever when a ballet company — and its treasured jewel — visits the phantom thief-loving city. @solsketchbook

Rigor Mortis (Ren’Py) is a visual novel for goths of all stripes who are surviving under late-stage capitalism. Discover the adventures of Lunis Culpeper, 12-year-old newlydead, as she learns about (un)life in the (under)world the hard way.

Your life as an alchemist has been safe and comfortable so far... but when your sister makes you one last wish before passing away, you'll embark on a dangerous journey that might change your life—and the lives of your two companions—forever. Hopefully, you'll also learn to see the world in a new light after this Trek to Dead Water (Ren’Py).

Take centre stage as a former-rockstar turned actor navigating your new career and the chilling grip of fan-obsession in Scapegoated (CScript). Your once-famous band may be nothing short of a ghost of the past to you, but the rest of the world cannot seem to let go. The split in 1968 was scandalous, abrupt and mysterious. And although you’ve thrown yourself into acting and secured your first major role with a big time Hollywood director, whispers of blame have been on your tail ever since.

You are the illegitimate child of King Aldric the ruler of one of the seven kingdoms Ceryndor, marked by your half elven heritage and shunned by society. Born under a cloud of prejudice and tragedy, you are feared as the “Black Wolf” – an omen of misfortune and a harbinger of chaos. When the son of a wealthy trader is found dead, the fragile peace in your land begins to crumble. The investigation leads you to uncover secrets that could shake the foundations of the seven kingdoms. Will you embrace the tyranny they accuse you of, or will you rise above the scars of your past and forge your own path in War of Crowns (CScript)?

A Life in a Year (Unity) is a narrative-driven adventure game that explores the emotional challenges of studying abroad. You play as Laura, a 16-year-old exchange student in a Nordic country. The game navigates themes like language barriers, cultural differences, friendship, family, and more.

Your trade as a Keeper is suffering under the rule of the current Emperor, but you've just gotten lucky – the Summit Library, the largest and most important Library in the Eawin Empire, has requested your services. But when you arrive you suddenly find yourself in a dangerous magical mystery: something's wrong with the books, and the Library is falling apart at the seams. Also, there might be a war? But The Summit Library is situated on neutral territory, so that doesn't affect you... Right?

~ UPDATES ~

A Sun Asunder: Post Apocalypse (CScript) updated their demo. @asapostapocalypseif

Meteoric (CSscript) added new content to their demo.

REMEMBER, YOU WILL DIE (CSscript) released Chapter 5. @vapolis

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) updated their demo.

Thicker Than (CScript) released their monthly update on Ko-Fi. @barbwritesstuff

Virtue’s End (CScript) updated their Patreon demo. @virtues-end

A Warmth in the Cold (CScript) added new content to the demo.

Spire, Surge and Sea (CScript) updated a new second Chapter.

The Adventures of Alaric Blackmoon (ADRIFT) released Episode 10.

Sentience (Twine) released Chapter 5. @sentience-if

Adrift With You (CScript) released Chapter 2. @kathrinesadventures

A Shriek of Ash and Fire (CScript) released Update 6. @krogpile

Drink Your Villain Juice (CScript) updated their demo. @drinkyourvillainjuice

Oh Mother, Where Are Thou? (CScript) updated their demo.

Dragon Kin (CScript) added new content to their demo.

Soulmates Inc (CScript) is back with a new update. @soulmatesinc-if

Voiceless: A Siren’s Song (CScript) released a re-written Chapter 1.

War of the Divines (CScript) updated their demo.

Hunter’s Requiem (CScript) added new content to their demo. @huntersrequiem-if

~ OTHER ~

Crown of Exile (Twine) offers a limited Access up to Chapter Ten for all their readers. Check it out before it’s too late! @ramonag-if

The Rosebush released an Interview with Chandler Groover, an interactive fiction author known for his influential games such as Eat Me, Toby’s Nose and Midnight. Swordfight., as well as his contribution in Fallen London’s storylines. @the-rosebush-mag

Devil On Your Shoulder is looking for beta testers.

~

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

I.A.G Alpha by techniX (INSTEAD)

The interactivity turns the idea of an IF piece on its head!

//submitted by Max//

The Master of the Land by Pseudavid (Twine)

A night of celebration with many storylines to explore. Replay again and again to understand, not to win.

//submitted by Sera//

Wonderland Noir: Behind the Looking Glass by Slim Pickens (Ink)

Delves into heavy topics, reminds me of Disco Elysium. Incredibly evocative writing, almost no attention given.

//submitted by Mouthofdirt//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

Max, Sera and Mouthofdirt

For sending us a Highlight!!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue!

What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We all wish you a great start to next year!

We will see you in January with a 2025 edition of What’s New in IF!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 33

[prof-peach]

UPDATES

SO!

after shipping my things to LA, from the UK in March, the company losing it, us having to do their joba and find it, heckle them to deliver it and finish their job i'd paid for, Finally, FINALLY by the end of next week, if all goes to plan, we will recieve our personal items, which includes the tablet i use to do my job.

I will once again be able to crank out art and comic pages as soon as I get it back, and this all goes back to regular broadcast. So sorry for such a slow, boring wait, i've also been fighting Depresso, which has been awful, but is now improving now im back with my emotional support human, we'd been apart for 4 months and it was very bad.

Oh and I got married on 6/9/24, which, ha, 69. Nice. No dresses, no suits, no guests, no stress, just an embarrasing personal confession that I have human emotion (ew), which was....lame. but eh. what you gonna do, gotta keep the partner happy, even if its not my thing, its theirs, they deserve it. No congrats required, I do not value the foundation of wedlock, its just a sheet of paper and changes nothing, just figured its worth mentioning as another reason ive been a bit held up work wise.

[aces-and-angels]

IMPORTANT UPDATE FROM SHAHED:

Note : this post is a repost of @appsa update on Shahed's campaign with updated infos on the current amount of raised funds.

I am so grateful to everyone who shared and donated, i really do count it as a miracle that we were able to reach the goal at all, never mind that it happened within the deadline we set. Your support has felt like a blessing in a truly wretched time, especially after all those baseless accusations were made.

Unfortunately, as is the norm with these fundraisers, it seems that shahed has run into some problems with the bank while withdrawing the funds she raised from this campaign. Apart from the unexpected $3.5k cut gfm took from the total amount, it seems the american bank her campaign manager using to send the money will also take a tax of $2k.

This has left her short of $5,500 from getting the full amount she needs to evacuate her whole family.

And it seems because the amount the campaign initially raised is so large, the campaign manager cannot afford to officially increase the target on the gofundme campaign page itself without putting himself at risk of having his bank account and its funds frozen.

As you may know already, there are lots of roadblocks when it comes to transferring funds from western countries to countries of the global south but especially gaza right now. People having their accounts frozen for sending money to gaza and having to go through legal hassles for it is not anything new.

Shahed doesn't want to put the campaign manager, who is their family friend, at risk of legal troubles like that, especially given the hostile political climate towards palestinians in the USA right now.

So i want to make this clear:

Shahed is currently unable to increase the target on the fundraiser on the gofundme itself, but she still needs to raise another 5.5k to cover the tax cuts taken by both gfm and the banks.

The goal on the fundraiser may say $80,000 is the target but the new one we have to aim for is actually $85,500 now

She is currently at $81,525 / $85,500

Believe me when i say that no one is more disheartened by this development than shahed herself. The morning we had reached the goal of $80,000 she told me that she felt she was the happiest girl in the world, and had bought and distributed sweets to the kids at the camp she was at to celebrate despite how expensive it is in Gaza right now.

She had also begun plans to help boost other fundraisers of palestinians, so that no one would have to feel the hopelessness she felt during those months where her fundraiser had been stagnant and had already gotten started on that barely a day or two after she'd completed her campaign.

Shahed was very nervous to tell me about this, especially after this whole racist hate campaign that was led against her so recently. She does not want her and her family to be accused of lying about their torment a second time. Especially when the violence has begun to ramp up once again even after her recent displacement, she can't bear it. Frankly neither can i.

Please know that she would not increase amount again unless times were desperate.

Please do NOT punish her during this difficult time by ignoring this. We have seen time and time again how gfms from gazans have to increase their goals even after they have been reached because of various issues, so this is not unprecedented. I've said it before- the goalposts will always be changing because they are going through a genocide.

So i urge you to please be kind and show her your solidarity and urgency once again, because the deadline is still the same. The raffle still hasnt ended so please check out the link above, and partcipate.

PLEASE HELP HER REACH $85.5K WITHIN THIS WEEK. THIS CAN'T WAIT.

current total: $81,530 USD

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy July 11th Update, Wolfmania, Our Biggest Update Yet!

This update was delayed by about one week, but I think everyone will find that this was well worth it, as this has been our most significant update ever to the rulebook and general content of Eureka. Where do I even begin?

Maybe I’ll start with the best part. For a limited time, this update is FREE! You can grab a PDF from the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club Discord server from now (July 11th 2024) until the next book club round starts! (Which will probably be about a month.)

Here’s just a few of the highlights for this update, you’ll find the full changelog below.

Major cleanup and copy-editing is underway again finally, and we managed to eliminate 42 pages of unnecessary blank space and extraneous text, as well as rewording and reorganizing many rules sections to make them clearer and easier to read. You now only have to read 20 pages before the first mention of how to roll dice, rather than 70.

Ten new character traits.

A PC’s Wealth stat now has a much greater effect on them in more areas of gameplay.

A ton of new art assets.

A bunch of massive improvements to combat that make it flow smoother with fewer interruptions, some of these improvements will be discussed in detail in their own post.

Repurposed Chapter 7 into being a chapter dedicated to GMing and homebrew.

Huge cleanups to the supernatural chapter.

Some changes to monsters overall to make them more modular and less restrictive in character creation.

Two new playable “supernatural” “creatures.”

Two new mage traits as well. (Which also double as two new spells for the witch)

The weaknesses of a vampire are now a bit more subjective and modular. For instance, in character creation you can trade off a greater sensitivity to garlic for a more potent sense of smell, or a lesser sensitivity to garlic for a weaker sense of smell. Vampires are now also explicitly thematically tied to religion, religious trauma, and religious horror.

Wolfmania! The wolfman monster now has different transformation options during character creation. You now choose your wolfman PC’s partial wolf transformation and full wolf transformation, with four options for each. There are some major narrative trade-offs for different combinations but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.

Then, there is "The Eye of Neptune." "The Eye of Neptune" is a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure module that has languished in an unfinished state for like six months, but we finally got it like 99% complete. The only thing missing are the maps and the artwork, which it is fully playable without.

Man has built a city of steel and black blood atop the endless abyss. It is a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins. Hundreds of miles away from civilization, it stands in the midst of the Gulf of Mexico with naught but empty horizons around it. Within is a vast structure of winding halls, grinding machinery, and thousands upon thousands of small parts working to achieve a grand design. It is the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune, and it was once run by 200 workers. Now, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has fallen to more or less a dozen. These last vestiges of life in the rig spread themselves thin and work their hands to the bone to keep the massive beast running. In the midst of this overwhelming isolation, two members of the already shorthanded crew are unaccounted for, Seth Barlowe and Lukas Ward. The installation manager, Noah, has convened a meeting to try to find out what happened to him. With the crew already severely shorthanded and tensions running high, a mysterious disappearance is the last thing anyone needs. 

You can get a copy of The Eye of Neptune, as well as another adventure module, several stories, and continuous monthly rulebook updates from our Patreon for only $5/month!

Now here's the full changelog! I'm mercifully putting it under a Read More because it's our longest one yet!

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 47.

CHAPTER 1

Better clarified how Heat increases.

Minor edit to Role of the Narrator.

Changed the name of Chapter 1 to “Core Gameplay Rules”

Minor tweak/clarification to what happens with a 7-9 on a Heat roll.

Instead of +1 Heat when the villain is in league with the police, Heat now simply does not decrease for the duration of the adventure. 

Heat rolls are now made whenever an investigator’s Heat increases by 3 or more within a single scene, rather than being made on multiples of 3 Heat.

Added another entry to the list of how Heat can increase

How much Heat an investigator starts the adventure with is now based on their Wealth stat.

Minor sentence reworks

Added a more detailed story of A.N.I.M. and Eureka’s history to the foreword

Moved Verisimilitude section out of Foreword down below Inspirations 

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to Chapter 3 above Grievous Wounds

Moved the “Monsters” section of the foreword to Chapter 8

Better clarified starting Heat

Lots of copy-editing and minor twinning, additions, and tweaks

Fixed the Quick Term definition for Truth being inaccurate.

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 1 to Chapter 7, including Heat

CHAPTER 2

Fixed the Believer Snoop accidentally being put with the Woo-Woo trait

Tweaked the None of My Business Trait

Changed Traits section to “Mundane Trait List”

Changed the amount of Penetrative HP for Not Finished Yet trait to 13 instead of 10

Added holster to item list.

Found out bump stocks are no-longer illegal 

Added “It’s for a Book” trait 

Added “Moneybags” trait

Added “The Ascot” trait 

Added “Gang Way!” trait 

Added “Dangerprone Damsel” trait

Added “Master of Disguise” Trait.

Added “Ninja” Trait

Added “Quick Draw” trait

Edited the Food Budget item to be more clear

Changed it so that guns no-longer come with bullets, these must be bought separately

Changed having +2 Wealth to “middle class” and +3 Wealth to “upper middle class,” to better describe how the Wealth skill actually influences the game

The formula for calculating WP is now 3D6+6+[Wealthx2]

Increased the WP price for certain items to reflect the above change

Added “Frugal” trait 

Added “Kleptomaniac” trait

Added art of example investigator Nick Morgan

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 2 to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about investigators losing items to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Changed the name of Chapter 2 to “How to Make an Investigator” because now all the NPC stuff is moved to Chapter 7

Better clarified skills

Changed the heading “Additional Traits” to “Choosing More Than Three Traits”

CHAPTER 3

Added clarification that sometimes it does matter whether a weapon is a blunt weapon, a piercing weapon, or a cutting weapon, and we trust players to be able to intuit what types of weapons are what.

Made animal teeth and animal claws separate entries on the weapon list

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

Explained what a node map is

Removed the rules for doing turn order based on Reflexes rolls, and finally made it so that Epicenter Initiative works with firearms combat.

Added rules for equipping weapons during combat

You now add Acceleration bonus to Athletics rolls for characters moving long distances in theater of the mind combat. Need to go around and remove the special speeds for various supernatural characters. 

Added a section that explains why so many pages is dedicated to combat despite this game being an investigation game primarily

Added art of some small knives

Put “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to this chapter instead of the Foreword

CHAPTER 4

Added some art to the gun information list 

Made Fully Automatic Fire have a hard limit of 12 bullets per attack. 

Added Quick Cycling rule, allowing characters with a +2 or more in Firearms to fire Two-round Bursts with Single-Action and Repeating firearms.

CHAPTER 5

Added rule for ride-by attacks to basic melee attack

Better clarified Escape

Attempts to disarm a character now have bonuses or penalties based on the difference between the Athletics skill of the two characters involved, similar to how Escape attempts work. 

CHAPTER 6

Clarified that Acceleration is not affected by Composure

Tiny tweak to how chases are described

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

CHAPTER 7

Added “How We Play Eureka” section explaining which optional rules we personally do and don't prefer

Changed the name of Chapter 7 to “Advanced Narration and Homebrewing”

Added a ton of stuff from other chapters to Chapter 7 to make it a general chapter for Narrators as well as help with game/module design and homebrewing. It is currently a little bit of a mess but is at least serviceable until we get to the point where we can fully copy-edit it.

CHAPTER 8

Minor vampire tweaks

Made it so that that the vampire sensitivity to certain scents is more codified and now causes composure rolls, and now works more like their compulsion to count things in that the placement of the weakness on their tiers of fear determines how much of a bonus they have to Senses checks involving smell and taste. 

Adjusted Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above changes 

Added more mechanics for how NPC vampires interact mechanically with weaknesses. 

Better clarified the full moon roll for wolfmen. It is now just 1D12+1. 

Better codified superhuman strength as a rule.

Gave the math for handling consistent HP across alternate supernatural forms its own section.

Completely redid the wolfman wolf forms. Now during character creation players can choose one of four options for each of the wolfman’s wolf forms, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Up to 16 possible combinations! Wolfmania!

Improved the werewolf trait to fit with the updates to wolfman

Adjusted wolf manifestation of vampire to fit with new wolfman rules. 

Better clarified vampire claws

Added Supernatural Bonuses and Investigation Rolls section

Tweaked wolfman involuntary transformation so that the form they rampage in is still random even if they are already in a wolf form when the rampage starts

Changed stats of vampire’s bat manifestation

Better clarified vampire sunlight and silver weakness mechanics

Totally revamped vampire’s monstrous beast manifestation 

Redid the Superhuman Speed mage trait, made it a lot better 

Improved the Stealth bonus of the Invisibility mage trait

Improved Stealth bonuses of thing from beyond.

Added a “Purpose” mechanic to living dolls, which is what the doll in question was built to do. When they act towards this purpose, they get +1 to rolls, and when they fail or otherwise ignore their purpose, they may lose Composure. 

Updated Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above

Made it so wolfmen lose 2 Composure from skipping a meal instead of 1.

Clarified that the thing from beyond does not need to stay in human shape the entire time they are digesting a human victim. 

Clarified the possibility of escaping from a monstrous supernatural beast’s stomach for both the giant wolfman forms and the monstrous vampire manifestation. 

Clarified Telekinesis trait

Added “Manifest Weaponry” Mage Trait

Added “Incredible Strength” Mage Trait

Added ability for an investigator to be a talking dog.

Changed “wannabe monster hunter” to just “monster hunter” and added a new sidebar

Rewriting large chunks of the first half of chapter 8, redefining each type of supernatural investigator, and adding a fourth category of investigator. Work in progress

Monster investigators now only require 18 investigation points instead of 21. 

Removed “Is this a monster or a mage” section. This is no-longer needed now that these categories are more clearly defined. 

Removed blood sacrifice from the witch’s true nature and just committed to making it be about cannibalism and about using magic–any of their magic–for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons. 

Gave witches a proper weakness

Changed the name of the witch to Fairytale Witch

Moved Alternative Witch into the misc. category

Removed large chunks of chapter 8 that were either no-longer needed or had become so outdated as to be contradictory to other rules

Vampires now gain 1 additional point of Composure for every 5 Morale or Composure damage they do to their victim during an attack, to better codify how they feed on human suffering as much as the literal blood they drink.

Added the “Monsters” section of the Foreword to this chapter instead

Changed the name of the Thing From Beyond’s “Shapeshifter” trait to “Imposter Syndrome”

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[nylaboon]

Fell in Love With a Girl — Cooper Day

"Fell in love with a girl / I fell in love once and almost completely / She's in love with the world / But sometimes these feelings can be so misleading"

— in which Cooper comes clean to you about his troubles with Emma.

cooper day x gn!reader

tags: swearing, second person pov, fluff, not proofread, kinda shitty in my opinion but i tried my best

"Cooper, what's taking so long?" You inquired, feeling more and more frustrated with the boy. He was supposed to be helping you with your missing assignments, but he got sidetracked by a notification from his laptop. He was so distracted that he spent about three minutes staring at the screen, literally frozen in place. It was annoying, and the worst thing was that it was the third time he had been distracted by it, which meant that your work was taking even longer to complete.

The only reason why you even had missing assignments was because you got sick the previous week.

Strep throat. Possibly one of the worst and best illnesses a person can get. You felt like shit most of the time, but the upside was that you wouldn't have to go to school until it cleared. You just happened to catch it from a guy in your math class; how that happened was a damn mystery. You kept your distance and moved as far away from him as possible every time he so little as parted his lips to speak, but you still caught it. As a result, you took a week off from school, which didn't seem too bad at first, but that was until Cooper gave you an update on everything that went down during the week you spent at home whining about your sore throat and chugging shitty medicine. And it was one hell of an update, for sure.

He soon shifted his focus away from the screen and quickly closed it. He covered his face and moaned as he stood up from his desk and returned to his bed to sit next to you again. "Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about?"

You close your workbook, using your pencil to bookmark the page, and place it beside you. "Numbers and shit. Who was that?"

"Who was who?" You should have known he would respond to your question with one of his own. He always did this, and it was infuriating. In his defense, though, he didn't have to tell you who he was talking to if he didn't want to, therefore he was justified. Irritating as fuck, but justified.

"Don't play dumb," you advised, rolling your eyes at his feigned confusion. "Who were you emailing just now?" Cooper shrugged and glanced around the room. "Why does it matter?"

"It must matter since you keep running back to your laptop every two minutes."

"Well, it's closed now, so you don't have to worry about it. Lucky you." Cooper was not an open person, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. That being said, his dismissive behavior wasn't unusual. He always bottled up his emotions since he didn't know how to express them without assuming he sounded stupid. Unfortunately for him, you were nosy and constantly pestered him when he didn't tell you something, so he usually caved.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

He gave you a puzzled, defensive expression. "What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?"

"You're not denying it." Your logic garnered you a sneer from him, but he chose to simply change the subject to avoid further conflict.

"The more you argue with me over this, the more time you're wasting." He wasn't necessarily wrong about that, either. Instead of pressuring him to talk about it, you picked up your workbook and got back to work. Around twenty minutes later, you left to go to the bathroom, but when you finished and headed back to Cooper's room, he was sitting at his desk. Again. Instead of announcing your presence, you silently closed his bedroom door and crept up behind him, skimming through his laptop screen. He was reading an email from a girl who said she "missed him" and had been "thinking about him all day". It was a tough read, but it offered a great opportunity to make fun of him.

"Who's Emma?" You finally spoke up with a sly grin. Cooper jumped and shut his laptop in less than a second. He gave you an annoyed glare before sweeping his curls out of his face and looking away. He stood up from his chair and attempted to distance himself from you out of embarrassment.

"A friend," he mumbled.

"That didn't sound like a friend," you retorted.

"Why are you so worried about it?" Instead of answering his question, you mocked him.

You grabbed his arm and began swinging it, annoying him even more. Truth be told, you weren't particularly pleased with what you had found, but you were trying your best to conceal your displeasure via exaggerated excitement techniques. You had a mini-crush on him for a while (at least that's what you called it to persuade yourself that you didn't want him and were just being irrational for a year straight), and it was relatively upsetting to learn that he was talking to some girl he never mentioned to you. "Aw, Cooper has a girlfriend!"

He let you swing his arm, although he didn't seem thrilled about it. "She's not my girlfriend." You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay, sure," you replied, not believing him in the slightest. "And I'm not failing algebra."

"No, seriously," he affirmed. "She's not. We just started talking, like, a week ago."

"And how did that happen?"

It took him a while to gather enough courage to answer that question. "...she called me sexy."

"...seriously? Just- just straight up?" Cooper nodded. You cringed a bit. "Is she in any of your classes?" You asked. Little did you know, you wouldn't be prepared for his response. "...she's a junior."

"She's a what?!"

"Hear me out—"

"No!" That was odd. Wasn't it odd? How often did a freshman and a junior get together? Not very. You couldn't even begin to articulate your concern. Where do you even start? There was a lot to unpack in those three words. "Do you not see the issue with that?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, but she's hot, and I'm me. M'not really a chick magnet, so I kinda have to take what I can get."

"Take what you can get?" You repeated in astonishment. You had more to say, but he interrupted you before you had time to finish. "Plus, we already made out a lot, so I kinda dug myself into a hole." As if it couldn't get any worse...

Your eyes widened. The situation was almost unfathomable, and you could feel yourself about to explode out of anger. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm sixteen; what's the issue?" He asked in defense. You would've laughed at that lie if you weren't pissed off.

"You're fifteen, Cooper. Stop telling people that." For some unexplained reason, he kept lying about being a year older than he was. He'd been doing it since he was twelve, and it was actually pretty cute. And stupid.

"Well, I'm almost sixteen."

"Your birthday was two months ago."

"Still. That's basically a young adult."

"Not even!" He shook his head and sighed. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"I don't know," you replied. "Why are you dating a junior?" Cooper flung his head back, annoyed, before sitting on the edge of his bed. "We aren't dating, okay? And even if she was a freshman, I still wouldn't date her." That claim perplexed you. You stood in front of him, looking down at him with curiosity. "Why not?" You questioned.

He placed his elbow on his knee and let his chin rest in the palm of his hands. "Because she's not into me."

"But you just said she called you—"

"I know," he interjected. "You don't get it, though. She thinks I'm an idiot." He looked up at you for a minute, only to be met with your blank stare. "She's just using me to write shit for her."

"So, you don't like her; you just like being used?" You asked. He sneered at your cluelessness.

"I don't like being used. I just like the attention."

You sat down beside him, hands in your lap. You mumbled a soft "damn" and peered at the floor alongside him. "That fuckin' sucks."

"You don't say?" He replied sarcastically, leading you to nudge his shoulder. He sighed hopelessly and continued his rant. "I don't think I'm ever getting in a relationship at this point."

"Don't say that," you pleaded. "You never know."

"I do know, though," he argued. "I'm weird. I don't fit anyone's standards. Not that I even care for relationships, but—"

"You fit mine."

Your honesty seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. He paused for a few seconds before proceeding with the conversation. "That's not what I meant, y/n. You're just a friend."

"That's not what I meant, either." He gazed at you, his eyes conveying his uncertainty. "I didn't mean it in a friendly way."

Cooper stared at you, completely stumped. You grumbled and rolled your eyes before clarifying yourself for him. For someone so smart, he could be so naive. "You idiot—I like you. That's what I meant."

Despite your clear confession, you were anything but calm. You wanted to bash your head through his window because you had just made the entire conversation awkward. Awkward because he was staring at you, visibly uncomfortable. Or maybe he was just stunned. You had hoped he was just stunned. Regardless, the room was quiet, which was enough to drive you insane on the inside.

"...dude, why?" He eventually asked.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"Why not?" You shrugged with sass but kept your attention away from him. You would prefer to not see your best friend become uncomfortable in your presence. Being in his presence at that moment was enough to make you want to shoot yourself in the head. "You really do have shitty taste in guys," he taunted, hoping to lighten the mood for you. You let out a bitter scoff. "But on a serious note, I didn't think you thought of me like that..."

"You learn something new every day." He cracked a brief chuckle before going back to his serious demeanor. You, however, were not laughing. "I'd rather you over Emma, y'know."

"Is that really the compliment you think it is?" You asked softly.

"Depends on how you take it," he replied. "But I did like her at first, just so you know. Before I even knew what she was up to. So do you know what that means?" It meant that even if he liked Emma, he still would have preferred you. Suddenly, you didn't want a bullet in your skull anymore. "Oh," you muttered while trying your best to not smile too hard. "Cool, cool. That's, like, rad."

"That's it?" He complained. "Just 'rad'?"

"Obviously not," you denied. "I just don't know how to react appropriately."

"How would you react if you were alone?" He asked, to which you immediately responded.

"I'd scream."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I guess that's fair. But do you know what I want to do?" You tilted your head to the side, urging him to continue. But he said nothing. Without wasting another second, he leaned into your proximity and connected your lips, as if he was testing the waters before diving in fully. The kiss was neither short nor too long. You eventually reciprocated, allowing your hands to drift to his face and grasp onto him. You didn't want him to pull away, but he did eventually. He took a breath and smiled nervously while backing away from you. Meanwhile, you were still trying to process his actions.

"…why'd you pull away?" You spoke up, giving him a fake look of disapproval. "I wasn't supposed to?"

"Did I say you could?" Cooper shook his head. "Exactly. So get back over here and kiss me before I throw a fit."

"As you wish."

written by @nylaboon

[goldsbitch]

That one call overseas

part 7 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Now that we don't talk.

warning: pure angst this time, cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

The hole Y/N dug for herself was getting deeper with each day of no contact with Lando. Gone was her ability to contain her emotions within herself. Her friends were getting concerned. Their ever so calm and easy going friend turned into an impulsive, unreliable and even slightly rude menace.

Teresa was the one who kept patience with her in the worst days, as only the best of friends do. When Y/N got kicked out of a bar for the first time in her life for her comments in lousy bad Italian on a random couple in the late hours of their Friday night, Teresa walked her home and screamed Hits Different with her at the top of their lungs to ease the atmosphere. And once they were home, she listened to Y/N rant about how she would never ever call the asshole who does not even bother to text her again. Teresa also stopped her from throwing his hoodie away, knowing that the following morning would hurt just a little more.

When Y/N woke up the following noon, she took a hard look in the mirror. This was getting ridiculous. She swore to herself and all of her roommates that no more alcohol and no more Lando desperation. It's a crush - it'll pass. One day this will be a nice story to tell the kids she'll have with some Antonio, the accountant or Ignacio, the lawyer. Not Lando, the racer - and that was ok.

//

Lando was off to Montreal and things could not be more busy for him. New updates to test, again, as his frustration grew. He only wished to be finally at the top podium, which seemed to always slip in between his hands. His mind, of course, was clouded by the thoughts of Y/N. At first he thought ashamed of himself for not reaching out and appearing like an asshole - but he somewhat expected her to break the silence. He started to second guess every aspect of the time they shared together. Perhaps she did not have as great time as he had, perhaps he acted like an asshole, or perhaps he just was not good enough for those who were not under the F1 charm spell. Not good enough for her. He finally resorted into doing something he tries to avoid as much as possible - looked at the fan pages and comments to boost his ego up. It only led to him feeling more shameful and pathetic than when he started. He kept her necklace and brought it with him. For all it was worth, he had an amazing memory to look back at, no matter how delusional he felt doing that.

The paddock was a great place to be at when searching for a distraction, so he made sure to spend as little time as possible alone and surrounded himself with people. He even walked to the stands often than he usually would, searching fans and giving photos out, smiling a little to extra on all the girls who looked remotely close to Y/N. Who knows, he might pick up someone like that at the end of Montreal ride. Why not. Nobody was stopping him.

He went to the race with all he had, fully prepped and focused. However, red flags, poor strategy choice had him finishing way below the targeted place. To his luck, Oscar was on a roll of luck and finished way better compared to Lando - and of course that everyone compared. Debrief meetings like that drown the soul more than usually.

Influx of all the journalists was overwhelming that day. The interview fatigue hit hard and after few of those, Lando felt that based on the questions he was asked, everyone thought of this race like a massive fail for him. His own answers continually worsened.

"Why do you think this week has ended the way it did?" asked one of the more prominent interviewers.

"Well, you know how it is. Sometimes the week just does not go the way you'd wish, even if last weekend it seemed like we're on a track to something good. One things affects the other and getting out of that rut is challenging."

"Are you talking about the updates, or something different?"

"Yeah, something like that. But as they say, when life gives you lemons, right. Make lemonade...or limoncello for a rainy day, ey?"

"Well, we hope to see the cheerful Lando soon and ideally at a podium too!" Lando knew the interviewer was only doing his job and technically she was not doing anything wrong, but he could not help and for a split second let his face do a look, that was certainly not appropriate for someone who was so used to media and knew he had to be smart around them.

He was in no mood to watch a celebration of Oscar or to get wrapped up in the post race chaos. Once he felt free to leave, he did, putting his phone on don't disturbe mode and went for a walk around the city with his headphones on, to dwelve in some sad tunes and solitude of his own thoughts.

//

Y/N asked Teresa to punch her anytime she looked like she was about to search Lando news. Her roommate refused to do that as it would be a full time job, but did help her set up some tags to block. Saturday was a success, however once Sunday evening and race time rolled in, Y/N knew she was absolutely not ready to try and ignore it. So instead they made a girls evening in about it. The idea was to replace real memories with Lando for race watching and distance him. They were trying... So they sat together with their study books to combine distractions. Y/N was explaining the race rules, avoiding any personal remarks about Lando. To her own disappointment, he was not featured a lot as there was not much really going on for him during the race. But maybe it was for the best. It really felt alienating, seeing his face on the screen, a character in the story of F1, so far removed from the unfiltered smiling face she had burned in her memory. The mood in the apartment was calm, maybe a little mellow. There was a weird calmness in Y/N, as she knew for a fact that he was busy. Knowing that she will definitely not get any text and that he was not ignoring her was soothing for the soul, even if for just few hours. At the end, the girls had way better time than expected, Teresa taking the initiative to comment on all the rest of the drivers and ranking them based on looks and vibes. She became a Leclerc girl all the way in.

"Right, that's my cue to go to the bathroom," Y/N stood up as the post race interviews rolled in. That would be too much at the moment.

"Love the drama vibes you give off. I'll watch it and let you know if there was anything alarming," Teresa assured her.

"Doubt that," was the bitter response she received back.

Once Y/N came back, she returned to her friend sitting with a puzzled look.

"What?!" all the pent up emotions took the stage, all the hard worked stillness gone as if it was a dream.

Teresa sat in silence, looking bluntly at the screen.

"What??!" Y/N repeated impatiently. "Ugh, forget this charade. I'll just watch it." This all felt like she had passed the test, but hadn't learned the lesson at all.

"Yeah, maybe you should. Interesting, his voice is higher that I imagined," Teresa replied as Y/N became to rewind the stream. They sat in silence, as they watched post race Lando in his tiredness, obvious annoyance and visible dark circles under his eyes. A shock went through Y/N at the word limoncello.

"Y/N, it must a coincidence. He's just been to Italy, so the connection was there...means probably nothing," Teresa said quietly as she watched her bewildered friend.

"Limoncello. Name a more Italian drink...What the fuck?? Is he joking right now? What is this?"

"Y/N, he has no idea you're watching, remember?"

"Yeah, I don't care about that. Makes it even worse actually." She replayed his interview once again.

"Ok, that's it - I'm taking this away from you," Teresa ordered after she saw Y/N going for a third round of the interview. "Do you wanna talk about it, talk it through?" So they went on to the kitchen, cooked some pasta while Y/N went on a rant where she let all her thoughts let loose.

//

"Honestly, fuck him. I don't need the mess he brings into my life. I can find great sex on every corner in this city!"

"Yeah, you go girl!"

"You know what, I'm gonna call him!" Y/N turned directions again for 17th time that day.

"Yeah, I kind of thought you would," Teresa sighed tiredly. "And I think you should, the worst thing you might get is a peace of mind...eventually."

"Yeah, I'm gonna do it! Now!"

She dialed his number. The phone rang for the first time. The second and third. With the seventh dial, she hung up. The girls looked at each and Teresa went for a hug.

"He might be busy with some racing stuff?" Teresa said in a tone which suggested that she herself had a hard time believing.

"I'm so stupid," Y/N whispered.

//

Of course he would miss it. Obviously. Because that just what seems to follow him and this girl around. It was deep evening over at her timezone, but still ok for a late night talk. He called back. What was he even planning on saying? He had no idea. When she did not pick up, he called for a second time. She picked up his facetime call and to say his heart skipped a beat would be an understatement. His heart triple jumped. A face appeared in low light. She smiled.

"Hey you," he opened with. The word honey almost slipped his tongue, but he was not sure how it would be received on the other side of the line.

She waved and gestured him to be silent. Lando was bewildered.

"Where are you?" he whispered, trying to unsucesfully figure out from her background. Again, he was met with a shush. Well, this will be real fun, Lando thought, slightly annoyed.

"Wait, you have me in your earbuds...so you need to be silent, not me!" Y/N frowned and nodded. She got up from where she was sitting and started walking.

"Well, since I have some guaranteed no interruption time, let me fill your ears with a story! There once was a beautiful girl, who talked so much and was so obnoxious that the city decided to ban her from speaking. Luckily, she found the most handsome guy in the town to keep her company with his wit, charm and great looks. To reward him for his services she sent him-"

"Ok, you can STOP now," she exclaimed, as she walked down the stairs.

"Where the fuck are you at this hour, young lady. Someone should seriously keep an eye on you!"

"Yeah, well, I sometimes think the same - and then I'm suddenly sitting in some random hotel room hundreds of miles away from where I was supposed to be," she winked at him. "No, I was at the church."

"Oh...you religious? Wait, are the churches still open?"

"Yes, silly. It's Italy, one always is. And no, I'm not religious per say."

"Oh, well then it makes perfect sense that you're hanging out in churches at midnight, yes."

"Yeah, you know. One gets bored."

"Ok, weirdo," Lando laughed.

"No, I like to go there to clear my head. There is some magic in the architecture and in the old walls," she explained. She really did go to get her head clear, to think it out. "Oh, and one day, I'd like to fuck in like a really old building. Not church exactly, but like I dunno. Our university halls are making me super hot sometimes." She had no idea why this was the first thing she'd pick as a topic. God, she felt lame.

"Well, that would be a hard thing to decline, if you're offering."

"Cheeky as ever, are we?"

"Obviously. So, tell me. Whats up? It's nice to see you by the way. I wanted to tell you that before you shushed me down so politely."

"Aw, nice to see you too, man." Lando would prefer to be called differently. "Some school stuff, completely blew my Monday's presentation, so that was fun."

"You should have studied in the weekend, hmm!"

"Yes! I should have," she had a hard time keeping the smiles in, "Anyway, otherwise it's been pretty much a lot of nothing."

"So you called me because you're bored and not because you wanted to talk to me?" He knew he was pushing it. But desperate times... She hesitated and shot him a strange look he could not decipher.

"Did you know we also have leaning tower here in Bologna?" Y/N panned the phone to show him one of the two towers in the city centre. She was walking around with no apparent destination. "Have you been here?"

Lando smiled weakly. There was a strange frustration regarding the distance he felt towards her. Not the physical miles. "Yeah, I've been there once." His Bologna trip was not exactly a great memory. Maybe this call had been a mistake. The last thing he needed now was to feel strange. He showed her the park he had been walking in.

"I'm in Montreal! Have you been?" Y/N also felt some strange vibes coming through this dry conversation

"No, but sounds fun."

"Not really. There has been a lot of pressure at me lately. I'm starting to hate it. Can't say it to anyone, nobody seems to get it." He looked off to Y/N from the start of the phone call. She took few breaths to triple check that she really wanted to break the elephant in the room. It somehow seemed like a "now or never" situation.

"Saw the race today." Lando paused. He suddenly felt the most vulnerable he had ever felt with her. Did she know him from the first moment? Was she lying? He had a hard time gathering out a response. She felt that, so she started blabbering. The cat was out of the bag, so what the hell.

"I broke our rule after we met. Not immediately! But I just...it felt nice meeting you. And I had no idea about racing beforehand. I overheard your name once and I was like "there can't have been two sets of parents naming their child Lando in this century". She looked at his puzzled face. "I'm sorry." Range of emotions floated through Lando, who was particularly sensitive today. It was only a matter of time when she'd find out who he was, he knew the day had to come at some point. But there was a part of him that wanted him to be the one to tell her. To tell his side of the story first, before she could get it elsewhere. He only had to trust her that she wasn't lying from the start. Very few people liked him for him and not "the racer Lando Norris".

But then again, who was he judge? He practically stalked her down - no, not practically, he actually tracked her down. Why did he do that? Because he was wonderstuck too. He liked her. So that meant that she liked him too. Sense of pride took over.

"Don't say sorry. You look too cute doing that," se said feeling braver now and less like a teenager with a crush. "Nah, it's ok. Wanted to spare you of the NDA, but I guess too late now." The more he came to terms with the fact he was not an enigma anymore, the more confident he became. "I mean, I was the one to find you even though you're not exactly famous, so..."

"Yeah!" she said as if she forgot that. "See, bordeline creepy," she laughed, obviously feeling relieved that he hadn't hung up the phone. "But, it's you, so I guess cute?"

"I'd say it's a little problematic on both parts, so we're even, honey."

She laughed. The looks they shared were a little more intimate than their previous looks. A sense of warmth washed over Y/N.

"It's funny. Do you know when I was in Bologna?"

"Ha, I do actually. My friends saw you at a bar."

"Yes...That's not exactly a coincidence. I wanted to "bump" into you accidentally."

She bit her lip down and closed her eyes. Took a deep breath and replied: "Do you know what was also a massive fail?"

He shook his head.

"I was at Imola. I wanted to "bump" into you accidentally."

Silence followed, as the two idiots took the new information in. Butterflies flying all over Bologna and Montreal.

"I think it's time we stopped dancing around and start being clear with each other or we'll start to look really stupid," Lando stated after a moment.

"Agree, Lando."

"Great, Y/N. I want to see you again soon."

"Me too."

They talked for another hour. Chatting lightly around about this and that, heart racing, not pushing more boundaries anymore that night, as the leap felt big enough to hardly swallow for them at the time. Y/N had final exams so the next weekend was a no go for her. But they agreed she'll come over to Spain, as he calendar was clear until the summer. Apart from seeing each other, confidentiality was a big thing for both of them. They barely knew each other, even if it had felt differently every time they talked.

Y/N was unable to relax that night, as the line "I can't wait to kiss you again," which Lando said instead of a goodbye, burned in her mind with the brightest of all flames. Some people were never destined to be friends.

part 8

__________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak  @ophcelia @leclerc13 @starmanv @k4r1402 @biitch-with-wifi @drunk-teens-doing-drugs 

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 11

word count: 6.9k

heres the awaited update!! i got in at 2 am and have been working on it since, its 5:30 am now!! hope u enjoy!

When the semester started back up again, Aspen found herself buried under the weight of her new workload. Classes demanded more than she expected, and the long hours spent poring over textbooks and notes left little room for herself, let alone time to see Harry. She felt like her world had shifted entirely to the library or her desk at home, where assignments piled up faster than she could cross them off.

That also meant she saw less of Harry. Each day that passed without seeing him seemed to stretch longer, her thoughts lingering on him more than she wanted to admit. She hated how easily she could recall the feeling of his hands brushing her skin or the way his lips curved when he smiled—how that smile seemed reserved just for her. By now, Isobel was well in tune with what was happening between them. Though nothing had been made official, it was clear there was something brewing. Aspen occasionally found herself at Harry's place, sneaking in fleeting kisses that inevitably stretched into hours tangled on his couch, her cheeks flushed pink by the time she was dropped off at home.

On Harry's end, things weren’t much different. Niall and Zayn remained blissfully unaware—or at least pretended to be. They hadn’t pressed him about it, though Harry suspected they had their suspicions. Still, he wasn’t one to share personal details, and his feelings for Aspen were something he preferred to keep tucked away, both in his mind and on the pages of his journal. Each time he wrote about her, his handwriting grew messier, betraying the restless emotions he wasn’t used to feeling.

As more days passed, Harry found himself thinking about her more frequently. The texts they exchanged helped fill the void, but it wasn’t enough. They spoke throughout the day—small updates, silly jokes, and the occasional goodnight text—but nothing could compare to having her close. He missed the way she fit perfectly against him, the soft curve of her smile, and how her shy laughter sounded like a melody he never wanted to end.

Aspen wasn’t immune to her distractions either. During lectures, her mind wandered far too often. A professor could be explaining a complex derivative, and she’d find herself remembering the way Harry’s arms tightened around her waist as he kissed her. Even mundane tasks like shelving books became harder to focus on, as her thoughts drifted to the warmth of his green-eyed gaze or the way his rough fingers brushed against her softer skin.

Finally, the week ended, and Aspen was blessed with the rare gift of a completely free weekend. No homework loomed over her, no shifts were scheduled, and for once, no tests needed studying. During her last lecture of the day, she realized her upcoming freedom and quickly texted Harry:

Aspen: mmmhm! i’m free i’m freeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Harry’s lips quirked up into a soft smile when he read her text, his green eyes briefly glancing around the empty shop before he typed his reply:

Harry: Let me pick you up from the library today? I’ll be done here at five.

Aspen: yes! i promised marion that i would shelf some books before i take off for the weekend. can you wait a few mins?

Harry: Anything for you, sun.

Harry clicked his phone shut and slipped it into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, the faintest smile still lingering on his face. He turned to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean, the soap foaming white under the running water. After drying them off, he snapped on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and turned his attention back to the supplies on the metal tray in front of him. "Alright, Z. You ready?"

Zayn grinned, his excitement evident even as he settled into the chair. Harry’s eyes flicked to the reference papers Zayn had brought in—designs inspired by Isobel’s lipstick marks on scraps of paper. Zayn had teased Harry relentlessly while they worked on the design, but Harry had focused, sketching until they both agreed on a final concept: a kiss print nestled between a pair of delicately detailed angel wings.

The machine buzzed softly as Harry began the work, his gloved hand steady as he guided the needle. He paused frequently to clean the area, ensuring the lines stayed sharp and smooth. Zayn’s chatter filled the space as Harry worked, but his mind occasionally wandered to Aspen. Would she still be shelving books when he arrived? Would she smile shyly when she saw him, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear like she always did when she was nervous?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

By the time Harry arrived at the library, the sun had set, casting long shadows across the building's entrance. He pushed the door open, the soft chime signaling his arrival. His eyes scanned the quiet room, landing almost immediately on Aspen. She was behind the library desk, her head bent over a stack of returns. A stray strand of hair fell across her face as she worked, and he watched as she tucked it behind her ear absentmindedly.

She didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in her task. He leaned against the counter, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Busy night?”

Her head shot up, her wide eyes softening as they locked onto his familiar figure, and a soft smile curved her lips. “Harry,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, carrying just enough warmth to melt through the quiet buzz of the library. For a brief moment, she was struck by the urge to stretch across the counter, her arms aching to wrap around him, to pull him close and feel the comfort she missed in the weeks they’d been apart. But the soft murmur of voices and the rustling of pages around them made her pause, grounding her in the present. Instead, she offered him a shy smile, the kind that made her eyes dart to the side in nervousness before finding their way back to him.

"Hey, doll. Wha's that you're workin' on?" Harry nudged his head toward the stack of books, his voice smooth yet laced with curiosity. His keys spun lazily around his finger, the metallic jingling matching the calm cadence of his words. Though his eyes lingered on her, intent and focused, he allowed them to flick briefly to the stack of books as she explained her task—returns that needed scanning and shelving before she could call it a day.

“Would y'like some help?”

The question caught Aspen off guard. She blinked up at him, the thought of Harry offering to help with something so mundane leaving her a little flustered. She’d expected him to wait patiently in the car, maybe scrolling through his phone or listening to music until she was done. But instead, here he was, standing in front of her with an earnest expression that made her heart flutter unexpectedly. Her mind stuttered to process, and her response stumbled out, shy and small. “Y-yes, please. If you’d like to.”

Harry gave a small nod, slipping his keys into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. His footsteps were confident as he walked around the counter, his tall frame effortlessly commanding the space. “Alright,” he said with a crooked smile, “where d’you want me? What should I do?”

Kiss me, she thought instinctively, the boldness of her unspoken desire catching her off guard. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink as she scrambled to push the thought away, acutely aware of how it made her feel vulnerable and exposed. Aspen had always carried this strange belief that her thoughts could somehow be read by the people around her, and with Harry standing so close, she feared her reaction was written all over her face.

“J-just help me push around the cart? Is that okay?” Her voice wavered slightly as she gestured to the metal cart, hastily piling books onto it after scanning them into the system. From the corner of her eye, she noticed how his hands wrapped firmly around the cart’s handle, the muscles in his forearms flexing subtly under the grip. Her focus wavered again, and she moved with a newfound determination, trying her best to finish quickly so he wouldn’t have to wait too long.

After a few minutes, Aspen led the way down the aisles, her steps light but purposeful as Harry followed close behind, pushing the cart with ease. They stopped in the non-fiction section, where she reached for three thick Chemistry 10 textbooks. Balancing them in her arms, she stretched onto her tiptoes, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her lips as she tried to reach the top shelf.

Before she could place the books, she felt Harry’s hands gently settle on her hips, grounding her with a soft but steady pressure. “Here, let me,” he murmured, his voice low and close to her ear. Aspen froze, her heart thudding in her chest as he took the books from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. With an effortless reach, he slotted the books into their rightful place on the shelf, the motion fluid and precise.

“There we are,” Harry hummed, his voice warm with satisfaction as his hands returned to her hips. His touch lingered, his thumbs tracing faint circles against the fabric of her leggings. Aspen felt her breath catch as he shifted slightly closer, his presence wrapping around her like a comforting weight.

He scanned their surroundings quickly, his green eyes sweeping over the quiet aisles until he was sure they were alone. Satisfied, he ducked his head, his breath warm against the shell of her ear as he inhaled the soft, familiar scent that had stayed with him for days. “Can I kiss you?” he muttered, his voice barely audible, a husky whisper laced with a longing that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumbs pressed a little deeper into her hips, grounding her while his words made her head spin.

Aspen took a sharp breath, the heat rushing to her cheeks like a tidal wave. Her lips parted, but only a soft squeak escaped, her nervousness bubbling over. “H-Harry,” she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as they reached up to cover his, pulling them away gently so she could turn to face him. Her wide eyes met his, the emotions swirling in his gaze making her heart race even faster.

“Not here, okay?” she whispered, her voice steady despite the blush staining her cheeks. “Is that okay?”

Harry stared at her for a moment, the intensity in his gaze softening into something more tender. He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile as he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Of course, love. My apologies.”

Though he stepped back slightly, the weight of his words and the warmth of his touch lingered between them, leaving Aspen feeling a strange mix of relief and anticipation.

They continued about their day, Harry kissing over her knuckles or a kiss to the top of her head before he helped her reach the higher shelves. God, how he wanted to actually kiss her pained him. It only took another ten minutes, if that, before Aspen was slinging her totebag over her shoulders and bidding a good weekend to Marion. When she appeared out of the back room, Harry looked up from his phone, locking it and tucking it back into his pocket while he stood up. "Y'ready?" He asked, holding his hand out for her to take it. The familiar feeling that he missed of her fingers curling around his warmed up his hand, and he pulled her a bit closer as they walked out. 

Harry opened the passenger door with his usual care, stepping aside to let Aspen climb into the car. The cold night air bit at her skin as she slid into the seat, grateful to escape its grasp. The interior of the car was still chilly, but not nearly as bitter as outside. She shivered lightly, clutching the ends of her off-the-shoulder long sleeve, the thin material doing little to combat the weather. The fabric clung to her figure, and her flared leggings offered minimal warmth against the evening breeze.

As she clicked her seatbelt into place, the driver’s side door opened, and Harry climbed in, his presence immediately warming the space. The familiar sound of the engine hummed to life, quickly followed by a rush of heat from the vents. Aspen instinctively held her hands over them, sighing contently as the warm air washed over her chilled fingers and spread through her body.

Harry chuckled softly at her small gesture, the sound low and comforting, as he reached for his seatbelt. "Cold, huh?" he teased, his emerald eyes flicking over to her with a glimmer of amusement.

“Freezing,” Aspen replied, her voice muffled slightly as she kept her face near the vents, soaking in the much-needed warmth.

It had become their unspoken routine whenever Aspen rode in Harry’s car. As the warmth filled the space, his hand naturally found its place on her leg, just above her knee. His thumb began its familiar rhythm, tracing lazy, thoughtless shapes into the fabric of her leggings. The small motion sent a ripple of comfort through her. Occasionally, Aspen would place her hand over his, her fingers playing idly with the silver rings that adorned them, twisting each one gently as though committing them to memory.

She could feel his gaze lingering on her, and after a moment, her shy eyes flitted toward him. His intense stare caught her off guard, and she noticed the car hadn't moved despite the engine purring for the past few minutes. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her brows knitting together in curiosity. A small, playful pout tugged at her lips, an expression that made Harry’s heart stutter.

His eyes dropped briefly to her lips before rising to meet her wide, questioning gaze. “I jus’ really want t’kiss you. Can I?” His voice was soft but deliberate, holding a vulnerability that made Aspen’s cheeks flush instantly.

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, and she turned instinctively toward the library entrance. A stream of people had begun flooding the parking lot, their chatter and footsteps filling the night air. She hesitated, her eyes darting back to Harry’s as the blush on her cheeks deepened.

Sensing her apprehension, Harry gave her knee a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Asp,” he murmured, his tone warm and grounding. “You can always tell me no, and I’ll listen. I want what you want.”

Her chest swelled at his words, the sincerity in his gaze making her stomach twist in that all-too-familiar way. Aspen hesitated for a beat longer before leaning forward slightly, her lips parting with a soft, almost timid, “Okay.”

Harry’s smile was slow and tender, his hand sliding slightly higher on her thigh as he leaned across the console. His lips met hers cheek gently, placing a lingering kiss that made her feel relaxed. It wasn’t rushed or demanding; it was patient and deliberate, as though he was savoring every second of it.

When he pulled away, Aspen blinked up at him, her cheeks glowing with a mix of cold and warmth. “I missed you,” she admitted softly, the confession slipping out before she could stop it.

Harry chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “Missed you too, sun,” he murmured.

Before they could linger too long in the moment, Aspen’s phone buzzed in her bag. She fished it out, squinting at the screen. “It’s Isobel,” she said, reading the message. “She’s staying with Zayn tonight.”

Harry arched a brow, leaning back in his seat as he shifted the car into reverse. “Guess that means I’m takin’ you home,” he said, his tone laced with a teasing suggestion which made Aspen shy herself into her seat.

The ride to Harry’s apartment was quiet but comfortable, filled with soft music and the warmth of stolen glances. When they arrived, Harry parked and walked Aspen up to his door, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. He unlocked the door and stepped aside, letting her enter first.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “I’ll order us some takeout. Any requests?”

Aspen wandered into the living room, setting her bag down by the couch as she took in the familiar space. It smelled like him—clean and musky, with a hint of something spicy lingering in the air. “Anything’s fine,” she replied, her voice soft as she perched on the edge of the couch.

Harry nodded, pulling out his phone as he leaned against the counter. “Alright. We’ll get somethin’ good. Y'can pick a movie if y’want.”

Aspen smiled to herself, feeling the ease of their dynamic settle back into place as she began scrolling through his neatly organized stack of DVDs. The titles were meticulously arranged alphabetically, a detail she found both endearing and amusing given the casual chaos of the rest of his apartment. Her fingers lingered over the cases, occasionally pulling one halfway out to examine the cover before tucking it back in its spot. She eventually decided on The Aristocats, a classic that sparked a nostalgic warmth in her chest. After slipping the disc into the DVD player and clicking the TV on, she turned toward the couch, her eyes following Harry shyly as he emerged from the kitchen, balancing two steaming mugs in his hands.

He set the mugs down on the coffee table, his gaze catching hers briefly with a teasing smile before he took his seat. Jasper, his sleek black cat, wasted no time weaving between their legs, his silky fur brushing against their ankles as he meowed insistently. Aspen reached down to scoop the demanding feline into her lap, the soft weight of him grounding her as she dug her fingers into his fur, earning a satisfied purr.

Harry leaned back into the couch, his posture relaxed yet commanding as his arms draped across the backrest. His gaze flicked between Aspen and Jasper, his lips quirking in a way that made his dimples deepen. She didn’t notice at first, too focused on the rhythmic motion of her hand stroking the cat, but the growing smirk on his face was hard to miss.

"What’s so funny?" she huffed, her brows knitting together as she squinted up at him. Her hands didn’t pause in their ministrations, much to Jasper’s delight, his purrs growing louder.

Harry’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You’re jus’... I guess you could say you’re playing with a pussy on my co—"

"Harry!" Aspen squealed, cutting him off as she lunged forward to slap her hand over his mouth. Her cheeks burned an intense red, the heat crawling up to the tips of her ears. Harry’s laugh vibrated against her palm, his amusement muffled but unmistakable.

He peeled her hand away gently, his dimples on full display as he tossed his hands up in mock surrender. "What? It was funny," he defended, his voice laced with unrepentant laughter.

Aspen glared half-heartedly at him, though the corners of her mouth twitched as if fighting off a smile. "You’re impossible," she grumbled, tucking her legs beneath her and pulling a throw pillow into her lap as if to shield herself from further embarrassment. She turned away, releasing Jasper from her lap with a huff, the cat hopping gracefully to the floor and padding away in search of a quieter corner. "Sorry, your dad ruined the moment," she muttered under her breath, her tone laced with mock indignation.

Harry chuckled again, the sound low and warm as he scooted closer. "C'mere, baby," he murmured, his voice softening as he reached out to tap her shoulder. His tone held a gentleness that made her heart skip, and before she could protest, he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

The movement was brief, just enough for him to guide her down onto the couch beside him, her body instinctively leaning into his as he tucked her against his side. His arm curled around her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as his fingers traced absentminded patterns against the fabric of her shirt.

Harry’s nose buried into her hair, and he inhaled softly, his lips brushing against her temple. The faint scent of her shampoo, a delicate mix of vanilla and something floral, lingered in the air between them. "You smell amazing," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

Aspen felt her cheeks heat again, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself sink into the comfort of his embrace, her hands resting lightly against his chest. The movie played on in the background, the familiar animation and soft melodies creating a cocoon of warmth around them.

Harry nestled another kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough for her to feel the subtle press of his lips before he turned his attention back to the screen. His thumb continued its soothing motion against her arm, and Aspen let out a quiet sigh, her earlier embarrassment melting away into a quiet, contented calm.

The knock on the door pulled them both from their quiet comfort. Jasper darted off Aspen’s feet at the sound, his tail flicking in mild annoyance as he trotted toward the hallway. Harry gently untangled himself from her and stood, stretching briefly before heading to the door.

“Chinese is here,” he called over his shoulder, tossing her a quick grin as he grabbed his wallet from the counter. Aspen adjusted her position on the couch, her legs curling beneath her as she watched him exchange pleasantries with the delivery person.

When Harry returned, he carried the brown paper bag in one hand, the smell of sweet and savory spices wafting through the room. “Smells good, doesn’t it?” he said, setting the bag on the coffee table and pulling out the containers.

Aspen nodded eagerly, her stomach growling at the sight. “It smells amazing. What did you get?”

“Couple of m'favorites—orange chicken, beef lo mein, and dumplings. Thought we could share.” He shot her a wink as he grabbed two sets of chopsticks from the bag, handing one to her.

Aspen opened the container of orange chicken first, the steam rising as she took her first bite. “Mmm,” she hummed, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is so good. You’re officially in charge of ordering takeout from now on.”

Harry smirked, his eyes flickering toward her as he took a bite of lo mein. “That right? Guess I’ll have to keep impressin’ you, huh?”

Their banter continued as they ate, the movie playing softly in the background. Every so often, Harry reached over with his chopsticks to steal a bite from her container, earning a mock glare from Aspen. She retaliated by snatching one of his dumplings, popping it into her mouth with a triumphant smile.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, his voice warm and low.

Aspen shrugged innocently, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “You started it.”

As the movie played on, they settled further into the couch, their containers now abandoned on the coffee table, save for a few leftover bites. Harry stretched his arm along the back of the couch again, pulling Aspen closer until she was nestled against his side.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder.

She nodded, her cheek pressing against his chest. “Very,” she whispered, her voice laced with contentment.

Time seemed to slow as they sank into the moment. The warmth of Harry’s body against hers, the quiet hum of the movie, and the faint aroma of takeout lingering in the air made everything feel soft and surreal.

As the movie neared its end, Harry’s gaze drifted from the screen to Aspen. Her focus remained on the animated cats dancing across the screen, her lips curved into a faint smile. He couldn’t help but marvel at her—the way her hair framed her face, the way her glasses slid slightly down her nose, and the way her fingers absently played with the hem of her sleeve.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” he murmured, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Aspen blinked, her head tilting up to look at him. The blush that colored her cheeks was immediate, her lips parting in surprise. “Harry...”

“I mean it,” he said, his green eyes locking onto hers. His hand cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “You’re so beautiful, Aspen.”

She swallowed hard, her heart racing as she searched his face. The sincerity in his gaze made her chest tighten in the best possible way. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile, and he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Anytime, love.”

Hearing words like that from Harry, her big, intimidating, scary Harry, made her stomach fill with butterflies she could never had imagined herself having.

They returned their attention to the movie, though the atmosphere between them had shifted slightly, the air tinged with something deeper. As the final few scenes played out, Harry’s arm tightened around her, and Aspen felt a warmth bloom in her chest that rivaled anything she’d ever felt before.

Harry ended up nudging Aspen slightly, his shoulder bumping her up. The girl looked up, tilting her head as if to ask him 'what?' He hummed, the arm not wrapped around her shoulders went to rest on her knee once again. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "I haven't kissed you all day t'day," He mumbled. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he sighed softly. "Can I please kiss you? Please?"

Aspen blinked up at him, her cheeks aflame as his words lingered in the air. "Y-you’re... you’re too much," she mumbled, ducking her head in an attempt to hide behind the curtain of her hair. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, twisting it nervously as she peeked at him from beneath her lashes.

Harry, however, wasn’t about to let her retreat. "Too much?" he repeated, his voice full of mock offense but underlined with a genuine softness. He leaned closer, dipping his head to catch her eyes. "No, love, you’ve got it all wrong," His thick voice muttered, "I’m just the right amount when it comes to you."

Aspen’s lips parted as though she wanted to reply, but her voice failed her, the words getting stuck in her throat. Instead, she shrank further into herself, her shy demeanor only making Harry’s heart ache in the best possible way.

"You don’t believe me, d'you?" Harry pressed, his thumb brushing her cheek gently. "Alright, I’ll prove it. You’re the one thing I can’t stop thinking about. I wake up wishing you were next to me. I go to sleep kicking myself for not being braver with you. You’re in m'sketchbook, my bloody head, everywhere, Aspen. And ’s torture. Possibly the best damn kind."

Aspen’s breath hitched, her wide eyes darting to meet his as her blush deepened. "I-I don’t know what to say," she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached him.

Harry gave a self-deprecating laugh, running his free hand through his hair before letting it rest over his heart. "You don’t have to say anything. Just—just let me show you, yeah? Give me a chance to kiss you again. I’ll even beg, if that’s what it takes." His lips curved into a small, pleading smile, his dimples making a faint feature as he dipped his head closer.

"Harry, I..." Aspen trailed off, her fingers trembling as she clutched at the edge of her sweater.

"Please, love," he whispered, the desperation in his voice both playful and painfully sincere. He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I’ve missed you too much. One more kiss. Just one. I swear I’ll behave after that."

Aspen’s gaze flickered between his earnest expression and the way his thumb traced over her hand. Her heart pounded as she struggled to form a coherent thought. Finally, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

His furrowed brows relaxed with a content sigh, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slightly as he moved impossibly closer. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he cradled her face in his hands. His lips brushed hers so softly, it was as though he was savoring every second, committing the moment to memory. 

Harry didn’t waste a second. His hand tilted her chin up as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that started tender but quickly grew more urgent. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a pouring out of everything he’d been holding back—the longing, the adoration, the quiet ache he felt every time he looked at her and couldn’t have her close enough.

Aspen responded hesitantly at first, her hands finding their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. But as Harry’s lips moved against hers, slow yet deliberate, she melted into him completely.

This time, Aspen didn’t pull back in hesitation. Instead, she let herself fall into the kiss, her hands resting timidly on his chest as his warmth surrounded her. Harry groaned softly against her lips, his thumb caressing her cheek as he deepened the kiss just enough to make her knees feel weak, even while seated. His tongue swiped over her bottom lip carefully, but before she could let him in, he pulled back.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his voice was a breathless whisper. "You have no idea how much I needed that. You’re gonna ruin me, doll. Completely ruin me."

Aspen’s shy giggle broke the moment, her cheeks still rosy as she looked down at her lap. 

 "C'mere," he pulled his arm from over her and helped pull her to sit straddled on his lap. "We won't go anywhere you aren't ready to go, okay? I jus' want t'kiss you some more. Can I do that? Can you sit on m'lap and be my good girl?"

Aspen's breath hitched in her throat at his last question. Nervously, she nodded while her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt that fell above his shoulders. Pleased with her answer, Harry flashed a small smile while one of his hands snaked to cup her jaw, tilting her head down. 

Their lips connected at a slow pace first, Harry being careful and letting her adjust to their new seating arrangement. After a couple of slow kisses, their heads tilted to deepen their shared kiss. Harry wasted no time in swiping his tongue along her bottom lip and taking advantage of the warm invitation. Once their flow was found, his hands went back to their place on the curve of her hips. He loved when she wore leggings, it was the closest he could get to feeling her-- the thinnest material aside from her jeans and sweats that she occasionally wore. 

Aspens tongue shyly twisted around Harrys. His lead was easy to follow, the messy movements still clean and sent chills down her spine. Her hands rested on his strong shoulders, feeling the occasional flex in his neck when he leaned in further to kiss her or when he tilted his head to deepen their kiss. 

Soon, his lips made their way from her lips to her cheek. He was slow, careful with the areas he planted his kisses. "Can I..." Harry’s voice was low, rough with desire as his hand moved to rest at the curve of her shoulder and neck, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. "Can I kiss you here?"

Her heart raced at the question, her mind spinning as she weighed the request. Harry had always been so respectful, so careful, never pushing her beyond her comfort zone. The warmth in his gaze made her feel safe, like she could trust him with every vulnerable part of herself.

"Y-yes," she squeaked, the word barely audible as her teeth caught her bottom lip nervously.

Harry’s eyes darkened at the sight, a deep sigh escaping him as his thumb gently pulled her lip free. "God..." His voice was little more than a murmur before he leaned in to capture her lips in another kiss, slow and deliberate.

Harry took her chin between the bent of his index finger and thumb, his finger slowly pulling her bottom lip from her teeth so he could capture it in a softer kiss. He let her get warmed up once again, the hand on her hip slowly inching up to the hem of her shirt. Harrys hand was half under the thin material when his lips began to trail from her lips to her jaw.

His kisses were slow and lingered for specks of a moment. He carried his wet and warm kisses towards her pulse point. His plump red lips dragged lazily yet intentionally along her warm skin. Aspen tilted her head to the side for him to allow more access. 

His lips moved from hers to her jaw, then down the column of her neck, each kiss lingering just long enough to make her skin tingle. Aspen’s hands gripped his shoulders tighter, her breath hitching as his kisses grew more deliberate. When his lips brushed a particularly sensitive spot near her pulse point, a soft sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Harry smirked against her skin, his hands tightening slightly on her hips in response. "There we go," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he pressed another kiss to the spot that had drawn her reaction.

Harry trailed his lingering kisses back up to her lips to capture them in another deep kiss. His hand was now fully tucked under her shirt, his ring clad hand flush against her bare waist. He gave a firm yet gentle squeeze and pulled her closer, his other hand dropping to do the same. When he pulled away, he pecked her lips and then nose with a small smile breaking through his lips. She would never get tired of seeing it on him.

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the cool metal of his rings brushing against her warm skin as his palms splayed against her waist. He pulled her closer, his fingers flexing slightly as if trying to memorize the feel of her.

Harry pulled back just enough to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, a soft smile spreading across his lips. "How was that, baby?" His pupils had been blown and his lips carried a red tint as well as the same wet sheen she was sure to have on her lips as well. She nodded carefully and swallowed lightly. "I-It was good." Harry gave a content hum, asking her again. "Did you like it? Did y'like what I did?" 

"I.. I did." With another inhale, Aspen felt a rush of bravery. Maybe it was because it was just Harry and her now, but she pushed the words out before she succummed to her shyness again. "Is it okay if I.. if I try?" Her eyes pleaded with his to understand what she meant without having to say it.

Harry was quick to catch on, his furrowed brows easing into another look. One that made Aspens stomach curl. He nodded and exhaled deeply through his nose, his thumbs brushing against her bare skin under her shirt. "Yeah? You want to do that f'me?" Harry sat up a bit more, adjusting the girl on his lap so she could be more comfortable. 

It wasn't long until their lips were locked again. She truly would never get over kissing Harry, the girl thought. Something about him was so addictive. She didn't have anything or anyone to compare it to but she knew whatever he made her feel was a hundred times better compared to whatever else was out in the world, and that she never needed to find out what came close to his competition because all she needed was him.

Her hands gently brushed up his neck and towards the back to thread through the curls at the base of his neck. She tried her best to follow Harrys actions from her hazy memory. She let a soft giggle slip past her lips when Harrys hands brushed up against her sides in a ticklish manner before he planted them back onto her body. She dragged her lips like Harry did to her along his jaw and down the side of his neck. She kissed at his skin nice and slow with open kisses, allowing the warmth to close against his skin before she made her way down and around with more. 

Aspens hands slid down to his shoulders and he let out a soft groan of approval. His head was now leaned back to allow Aspen more space. She had to be heaven sent with the way these things came so naturally to her. His tongue wet his lips again, brushing along the metal lip ring.

Aspen hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, her lips finding his in a kiss that was hesitant but full of intent. Her fingers brushed against his neck before sliding up into the soft curls at the nape, earning a soft groan from Harry as he let her take the lead.

"Tha’s it, baby," he murmured against her lips, his hands guiding her hips gently. "You’re doing s'good. Feels so good." Harry's last words came out in a content sigh, gulping around the air to ease his dry mouth. There was no way she was this good. Or maybe it was just something about Aspen. Or both.

Aspen’s kisses grew braver as she followed his earlier movements, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck. Her heart pounded as she felt his breath hitch, his hands gripping her waist more firmly in encouragement.

"Swear you’re gonna be the end of me, Asp," Harry groaned, his head tilting back as her lips worked against his skin. His voice was rough, his words laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The cool air brushed along his damp neck while he pressed their lips together once again, a new need present. His hands squeezed her bare waist in approval before one of his hands slipped out to cup her chin and pull her away from his neck to tangle their tongues once more. 

Something about her bravery to do something like that back to him caused a shift in his hips. What he didn't expect was to Aspen shift her hips as well. He knew it was so she could adjust and get closer, but that didn't matter at all when he felt himself twitch in his jeans. He pulled away with a small gasp of air, his thumb back on her wet bottom lip. Harry's hand stilled her hips, swallowing slowly.

"Jesus, Asp. What the fuck."

Aspen tilted her head as she looked into his eyes through her lashes once more, her doe eyes taking form as if to question him. "Did.. did I mess up?"

Harry only groaned. "Fuck no." His green eyes, filled with need for the girl, scanned over her face once more. Her red cheeks were replaced with a more flustered look and her eyes had softened. Her lips became slick with spit over the red they wore from all the kissing they had done. 

"You jus' have no idea what you do t'me."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen's soft eyes blinked to fight away the blazing sun through the crack in the curtain. Her arms reached out to stretch her small frame, her body going limp and falling further into the mattress once her body relaxed. Her eyes remained closed until she heard soft footsteps making their way closer. A small knock came on the door before it clicked open. Aspen rubbed the sleep from her eyes, sitting up slightly. When she fluttered her eyes back to normal, she saw Harry. 

A small smile fit on her face. "Hi," she muttered, sleep still heavy on her voice. She didn't even remember falling asleep. The last thing she really remembered was tucking herself back into Harry's warm side after her stomach filled with butterflies from his praises on how good she did for him.

"Good morning, sun," Harry leaned down to press a small kiss to her head. He sat down in front of her on his bed, admiring her sleepy state. He took note of her furrowed brows, which usually meant she was a little confused. Harry never minded explaining things to her.

"You fell asleep during Lady and the Tramp. So I took you up here to sleep. I took the couch," He told her, his fingers coming to adjust the metal ring looped through his lip. "You just looked so peaceful, so I didn't want to wake you to take you home. If you want me to next time, I--."

Aspen cut him off with a little giggle and a shake of her head. "No, no this was great. Thank you. Your bed is sooo comfy," Aspen sighed contently and fell back into it which drew a small chuckle from Harry. 

He looked not like he had just woken up, but he didn't look ready for anything either. He was in a simple pair of black sweats and a loose white tee, his curls brushed back and a new coat of black nail polish on his hands.

He had woken up around eight, whereas Aspen woke up closer to nine thirty. So, while he waited and gave her space, he decided to busy himself with a shower and redid his nails. He eventually got bored and wandered his way back to Aspen, who he checked on about five times since he woke up, and to his luck, she had been awake this time. 

"Alright, sugar. C'mon and get up. Let's get you home before Isobel calls."

And just on cue, Aspen's phone rang to life with Isobel's contact name and photo flashing across her screen on Harry's bedside table.

Gosh dang it, Aspen thought to herself. Could Zayn really not have tired her out some more so she could sleep in? Aspen was in for a loooong day with Isobel. 

Harry only snickered, tossing his hands up in innocence. She only shot a playful glare before answering the dreaded call.

[2023legendoflinkzine]

Donation Goal CRUSHED!!

Art by @zarvasace!

As of today, April 3rd, the Legend of Link: Courage charity zine has raised $1,858 dollars for Doctors without Borders! Thank you to all our generous patrons, our amazing artists and our wonderful writers who helped us achieve this in a little more than one week. This effort would not have been possible without you!

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[thetriumphantpanda]

i don't really wanna fight, 'cause nobody's gonna win | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary | A little slice of domesticity wasn't ever going to be enough to cover the stress of the story unfolding on your desk, but it was worth a shot right?

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of drugs and the drug trade, work frustrations, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie, dirty talk, we ride this man like our LIFE depends on it and some ANGST (I'm sorry, it had to happen sometime.)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | OOOOOF okay we're back with these two. Real life has been kicking my ass so I'm sorry this took so long - but we're moving into the tail end of this now so prepare yourselves for even more drama! Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for this - I hope you enjoy it. If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

The words on the deed to the drug den in town are all forming into one - you’re not actually sure they’re in the English language anymore. You’ve been staring at the pages for what feels like a full week, even if you’d only spread them out for reading on your desk this morning. You don’t know what to do. There is, of course, the obvious option, of walking right up to their front door and asking what the hell is going on, but the more you dig, the more you think there’s something bigger going on here.

You pour over your notes, trying to make sense of it all. It was nothing to do with Tyler Johnson, but it had something to do with his family, that was for sure. There’s no way that this whole thing would have been brushed under the rug and dealt with by the police saying ‘oh well, we don’t know’ if there wasn’t something incriminating behind it all. You tried not to think about that possibly meaning your dad was implicated somewhere along the line.

Instead of sitting around and feeling useless, considering the words on the page weren’t leading you anywhere at all, you tidy up your desk, stick your head around your managers door to tell her you were heading out for the story, and you get in your car and drive.

They lead such dull lives, is all you can really think at this point. The sun is setting and it’s finally starting to cool a little. The thought process had been simple, if you weren’t going to catch them in the act on paper, you would have to catch them in the act for real - whatever that act might be.

You’d started with Tyler’s dad, following behind him as he went about mayoral business, driving from his office to some meeting in town and then back again. You’d waited an hour in the parking lot to see if he moved again, but gave up after a while. Deciding on following Tyler’s brother instead - but he’d been more of the same. You’d found him getting into his car at work once the day was done, driving to the grocery store and then going home. That was it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Thinking about it, what would you even do if you did find them doing something? Tyler’s brother getting a package handed to him down a dark alley - there’s no way to get any proof, you don’t have a camera, and no-one’s going to believe you against them. The more you sit there, the more you think maybe you should have taken the story at face value, published it and moved on.

You suppose that these kinds of operations take time and patience - two things you were running seriously low on by now. You’re thinking of all the time’s Javi must have needed to do this - sitting around in a car waiting to catch someone doing something and wondered how he’d lasted so long. You weren’t made for this kind of work.

Sighing to yourself, you turn the key in the ignition and head home, trying not to let the frustration bubble over. You just had to wait. Bide your time. Surely somewhere along the line you’d catch someone doing something.

“You look stressed.”

You look at Javi through your eyelashes, taking a sip from the glass of wine in front of you on the counter. Your parents were taking their two week annual vacation - some place near the coast in Florida. You remember going when you were little, playing in the sand and swimming. They’d invited you this year but now you were older, it didn’t hold quite the same amount of charm as it used to, so you’d opted to stay at home.

The upside to not getting to lounge in the sun for two weeks was definitely this though. Javier Peña, hunched over the hob, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, cooking dinner for you. It was dangerous to think about how domestic it was, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. There was no-one to lie to about why you were late home from work for now, no need to rush through whatever it was that the two of you were doing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t need to be sorry,” He smiles at you, picking up his beer bottle to drink from, “You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, “It’s alright, just stuff at work.”

“In all my years of working with journalists,” He speaks, stirring the pot of sauce in front of him, “I don’t think any of them were ever as stressed as you.”

“I just care about my work.”

“So did they,” He counters, picking a strand of spaghetti from the pot to test to see if it’s cooked, “Just trying to say there isn’t a story out there worth getting this worked up over.”

“I appreciate it,” You mumble, “But can we not talk about work?”

He holds his hands up in surrender, focusing his attention on dishing up the food - spaghetti with tomato sauce. It’s simple and you know it’s probably the limit of his cooking ability outside of being able to grill meat on fire, but it’s the thought that counts. You sit at the dining table and eat together, talking about nothing really, just enough to fill the silence. Even though he cooked, he insists on clearing up and packaging the leftovers for you to eat tomorrow.

You sit and watch TV on the couch and when it gets late enough and your head starts to rest on his shoulder, Javi asks if you want to go to bed.

“I do,” You answer, “But not to sleep.”

So he slowly leads you up the stairs and into your room, softly closing the door behind him. You settle yourself under your sheets, pushing them back on the other side for him as he takes off everything he’s wearing apart from his underwear and gets into bed with you. He shuffles you around so your back in pressed to his front, his big hands wandering from your hips up to your chest, where he gently cups one of your tits in his hands over the shirt you’re wearing.

You can feel his mouth trailing kissing up your shoulder until he reaches the delicate skin behind your ear, the tickle of his facial hair there making goosebumps rise on your skin, regardless of how warm it is under your sheets.

“What do you want?” He whispers softly, snaking his free arm under your neck so the side of your face is pillowed against it.

You don’t answer, you just take hold of his wrist, dragging his hand from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. You let his hand go then, feeling his big palm cup you through the material, “Like this?” He asks, teeth nipping at your ear lobe.

“No,” You shake your head, “Under.”

That big hand drags up just a little, fingers finding the waistband again, dipping below this time. He tuts into your ear when he finds you bare, having not bothered with underwear when you’d changed out of your work clothes.

His hand is warm against your skin as it envelops you again, fingers dipping ever so slightly between the folds of your pussy to find you already wet, it doesn’t take much at all when he’s around.

Fingers dragging through the slick, up to circle your clit, he speaks again, “Like this?” He asks, feather-light touches of his fingers making you gasp.

“Y-yeah,” You choke out, “Just like that.”

So that’s what he does - let’s you rest your head against his arm, lazily rolling his finger across that bundle of nerves like he has all the time in the world for making you feel good. It’s slow, the only punctuation to his fingers are the moans he lets out into your ear whenever he pushes his hips against the plush of your ass, his bulge prominent against the clothes that are separating you.

“I want you to come for me,” He whispers gently a little while later, teeth biting gently into the skin of your shoulder, “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

You nod your head, unable to speak through the short, sharp gasps that the friction between your legs is drawing out from you. He speeds up a little, lets his finger add more pressure there. He lets you roll your hips, chasing at the high that is just there, coiling in your tummy. Your body starts to shake, thighs clamping down on his hands as he brings you over the edge.

“Fuck yeah,” He rasps into your ear, “So fucking pretty when you come for me, mi querida.”

Through the haze of pleasure, you can feel him rolling you over, pressing your back into the sheets. He’s settling between your thighs, pulling your shorts off altogether, but you don’t want it like this, so you press a palm to his warm chest to stop him.

“I want…” You trail off, “I think I want to be on top.”

You watch his eyebrows raise a little but he doesn’t protest, because of course he doesn’t, he simply lies himself back down on his side of the bed and waits for you. You let yourself straddle his thighs, marvelling just a little at the bulge of his underwear, before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband to drag them just far enough down his thighs to let his cock spring free, resting on his lower stomach.

Shuffling up his thighs a little, you lower yourself, letting your soaked folds drag across his length whilst your mouth moves up to suckle at the skin of his neck. You can feel his hands on the globes of your ass, helping to drag you up and down his cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks as you moan when the head of his cock brushes against your still-sensitive clit.

You don’t have any words, so you press yourself up, palms against his chest as you lift your hips just enough for him to reach between you, base of his cock fisted in his hand, to nudge at the weeping hole of your cunt. He holds it there for you as you slowly start to sink down onto him, moaning with your head thrown back at the stretch of taking him inside. When you reach the bottom, feeling him sucked right into the depths of you, you stay still, rolling your hips a little, feeling him so deep inside you.

Javi brings his hands to your hips, looking up at you as he guides your movements, slow forwards movements matched with even slower movements backwards, until the two of you are panting together.

You push yourself back, letting your arms fall behind you onto his knees, which have come up to rest against your backside, slowly starting to lift off him until he’s almost all the way out of the tight heat of your cunt, then you slide back down onto him, finding a rhythm of bouncing up and down on his cock.

Javi moves one of his hands from your hips, letting the flat palm run up your stomach, through the valley of your tits to lightly grip at the base of your neck. He doesn’t add any pressure, just holds his hand there, but you can feel the effect it has on you, pussy clenching around his length as you continue to bounce up and down on him.

“Look so fucking pretty like this,” He manages to choke out between moans, “Like you were made to be right here bouncing on my cock.”

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come again.” You hiss, feeling that familiar tightening in your tummy.

“Yeah?” He goads, but not unkindly, “You gonna come around my cock for me?”

To help you get there, Javi starts to thrust up into you, hand still at the base of your neck, hitting into your perfectly on your downward motion to fill you right to your depths, making your orgasm hit you head on. You feel yourself tighten around him, body collapsing forward to rest against his chest as he fucks you through the aftershocks of your climax, gripping onto your ass to keep you spread so he can find his own high, thrusting a handful of times before he’s stilling inside you, spilling himself inside with moans right into your ear.

He slips out of you as he softens, shifting you so you’re led down, both catching your breath.

“Sorry, I should have asked about that.” He mumbles, and it takes you a minute to realise he’s talking about coming inside you.

“It’s okay,” You say, turning your head to smile at him, “Although it does mean I have to go to the bathroom now.”

You drag yourself up onto all fours onto your bed, dragging yourself to the door to cover yourself in your robe before you leave Javi in your room to head to the bathroom.

He doesn’t know why he does it. In hindsight, it was out of order, but when you close the door behind you, he can’t help himself. He stands up, pulls his underwear back up and puts the rest of his clothes back on. Then he sits down on your edge of the bed and gingerly opens the top drawer of your bedside table.

There’s nothing much of note in there, a few lip balms and an old notebook, but that’s it. He opens the bottom one next, which is much more full, mainly with notebooks and sheets of paper. He knows he shouldn’t, but he reaches in and picks the first up, flicking it open to a random page somewhere in the middle, running his thumb across a loose sheet of paper before his eyes circle in on what the paper actually is.

It’s a newspaper article, reporting on Escobar’s death. When Javi looks underneath the paper there are notes written in your handwriting, detailing parts of the story that are interesting. He flicks to another page, another article about Escobar dying, with more of your handwritten notes. He can feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to take hold of his throat.

He puts that notebook on the bed, reaches in and picks another up, flicking through to find more of the same - articles about the entire Escobar case, more handwritten notes - some written in red ink that only ever say his name with a question mark, like you’re asking yourself if he was responsible for the ill-reported heroics. Javi is too caught up in flicking through that he forgets about your return, letting you catch him red-handed when you come back through the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, making him look up.

Your eyes are wide, like you’re shocked to find him with your notebooks in his lap.

“What’s all this?” He asks, instead of answering your question.

You surge forward, grabbing the notebook from his lap, slapping it shut, picking up the other one and then shoving them back in the drawer, “Did you go through my things?” He can tell from your tone that you’re worked up.

“Why do you have all of that?” Javi asks, standing up from the bed to take some steps away from you.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Well then tell me what it is.” He’s getting more annoyed as the moments go past.

“It was for my degree,” You say, shifting from foot-to-foot, “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“The problem is, it’s all fucking lies!” He runs a hand over his face, more annoyed at himself for shouting at you than anything else, “It’s all fucking lies and you believe it.”

He watches as your face drops, he can see the glassing over of your eyes, “I-” You try to speak, “I’m sorry?” It’s more of an offering, like you don’t know what else to do.

“All of that shit?” He asks, pointing to the now closed drawer, “Fucking propaganda for this country to seem like it had control, when all it fucking did was make everything worse.”

“Javi, please,” You beg now, taking a step towards him with your hands open in surrender, “Why don’t you sit down and take a breath?”

He can feel himself shaking his head, stepping backwards until he can feel the handle of your door, twisting it to open. He thinks he’s saying sorry, telling you that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has to get out of there and away from you, almost running from the house and into his truck.

It’s not until he’s halfway to home that he can feel that panic take over, pulling over on the side of the road, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. He takes some deep breaths, trying to understand why his brain has gone from 0-100 so quickly, and all he can think of is that you’re just like everyone else in this damn town, thinking that he was a hero, that he’d played his part properly, correctly, in bringing that bastard down. I’d the wondering about what you’d think of him if you knew what he’d really done, the amount of blood actually on his hands, the fact he wasn’t here there when Murphy shot the bastard.

It’s that feeling of inadequacy that haunt him in bed that night, led against the pillows, other side cold and empty when all he wishes is that he’d stayed, let you curl into him so that he could get at least a few hours of rest. Even though he never stays the night, always leaving you with a press of lips to your head, the small hours of the morning where you’re sleeping against him are the most peaceful he thinks he’s ever had.

So, staring at his ceiling, red numbers from his clock staring him down as the hours pass, all he can think about it what the fuck he’s going to do, how he’s going to explain that this has nothing to do with you and what it had to do with your degree, and everything to do with the way he thinks if you knew exactly what had happened, outside of what the American press has told you, you’d probably hate him.