#i just seem to get burnt out on them & lose the enthusiasm and by the time i’m excited about writing that story again the current draft

[sepia-mahogany]

Prompt: hearing about xuanwus defeat, madam jin and jin zixuan come to lotus pier and overhear madam yu saying wei wuxian should have let the 'sect heirs die', lwj who's recovering also overhears, the 3 get first hand experience of jiang household situation and decide fk this and take wwx out of there, its a prompt from vrishchikawrites blog (a wonderful write!) So maybe ask permission?

From the prompt on @vrishchikawrites

Jin Zixuan could not forget the young man, the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, who, despite his previous (petty) grievances with, had stepped up when everyone else had been frozen on the spot, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his blood stained image out of his mind. Which had led to this discussion.

“What? No! I forbid it.” his father responded when he asked for sending reinforcements to Jiang Sect, while he understood with Cloud Recesses burnt down, and Nie under attack, either Yunmeng Jiang or Lanling Jin were next on the table, and despite having well equipped men, with the best of weapons, his father refused to extend help. 

Refused to stand against those who sought to harm his son, ‘in situations like these, know when to step back’ he had said, and Jin Zixuan could feel shame creeping up under his skin, outnumbered and clearly at losing stakes, he hadn’t hesitated to save him, and what would that make him if he forgot the debt so clearly owed? To live the lavish life of a coward..! He could see his mother fuming from where she stood, and closed his eyes to suppress his bitter thoughts, he wanted to do something, anything to help.

And suddenly, anger melted from her face and that smile crept up her face and he felt a chill down his spine, a sense of foreboding overcame him, he could see his father tense as well. “Of course, the Jin Sect sides with them.” she spoke, venom dripping off her every word. “Nothing wrong if the Sect Leader’s wife wants the marriage renewed?” a pit formed in his stomach, he did not want to marry a woman he barely knew, but using this opportunity, they could, in a sense create a bond, stronger than of just two sworn sisters.

However, “Madam Jin meets up with her sworn sister, Madam of Jiang Sect, just as Qishan Wen begins its attacks?” the war has been declared, how would it seem if the two sect Madams, and the Sect heirs are meeting, with or without the Sect Leader? “The risks are completely unneeded, what do we gain from this?” his mother glared at his father, who pointedly ignored her, Jin Zixuan exhaled, thinking things over.

As much as he disliked the engagement, he knew she would not bring it up, unless the situation, as dire as it was, needed it, this bond could provide future aid to one another should the need arise, so Jin Zixuan kept his disagreements to himself, because he knew she wouldn’t force him, not with the concerns of a  cold loveless marriage like his parents, he knew she was using it as a cover to aid her sworn sister.

An opportunity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then remembered how the Second Jade, Lan Wangji had stood shoulder to shoulder with him,  and Wei Wuxian, Head Disciple, had stepped up to save them. 

Jin Zixuan exhaled, and made a decision, muttering out a half-hearted excuse, he left them on their own, and later into the night, he approached his mother.

--------

The boat landed steadily, unnoticed in the middle of the night, his mother had won the final say in the matter, of course with the reluctant agreement of remaining disguised as just another trade ship, the serene view would have been calming, had his nerves not have been high strung from adrenaline, small sacrifices, he could of course find a way to break off the engagement in a future of more peaceful times.

Jin Zixuan climbed out the boat first, followed calmly by his mother, the disguises were near perfect, for the disciples around the brightly lit place to look curious, but not alarmed. One, he recognised seeing a few times at Cloud Recesses, came near them with a nervous smile. “We offer you our sincerest apologies but...we’d appreciate it if travellers could avoid an audience with the Sect Leader?” 

The disguises were perfect then, for they had been mistaken as travellers that would go to and fro from Yunmeng Jiang Sect, his mother sniffed and looked at the disciple sternly “We are not here for the Sect Leader, but the Violet Spider, we have an important message for them.” Jin Zixuan had noticed before but now it had become more apparent as the disciples shifted around, something was off, it dampened his enthusiasm and the rush he had felt earlier, instead concern filled him, had something happened to Wei Wuxian?

His mother held out a token, the disciple’s eyes widened and he bowed in respect, “I assume this would be enough?” Madam Jin said curtly, and the disciple nodded, though tensely. “This one will escort you to the guest chambers” 

The curious gazes had not been moved, as they moved inside, step by step, down the corridor they went, as the muffled voices became more distinguishable, all 3 of them froze when they heard, unmistakably the Jiang Sect Heir’s voice. “-You shouldn’t have played the hero and you shouldn’t have cared for such a hell of a thing. If in the beginning you hadn’t….” 

Jin Zixuan felt a cold pit forming in his stomach, surely he must be mistaken, but seeing the expression twisting  on his mothers face, he could assume he was not, in fact, misunderstanding what Jiang Wanyin was implying. 

The disciple bowed quickly, slightly panicked “If you’d follow me-” Madam Jin pointed at him and he immediately shut up, head bowed, just as the Jiang Sect Leader reprimanded “Jiang Cheng.” Silence followed. “Do you know in which ways what you just have said is not appropriate?” was followed by a glum “Yes.”

Even if slightly, Jin Zixuan relaxed, his mother’s expression lightening into a frown, ‘at least someone is self-aware’ Madam Jin thought. “He’s just angry and speaking without care” another voice added, Jin Zixuan perked up, Wei Wuxian! So he was alright, he felt relieved. Madam Jin continued to frown, Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to lessen the pressure off of the Jiang heir. 

Another harsh voice cut through them all “Yes, he doesn’t understand but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands!?” rang out her voice, Madam Jin’s lips pursed into a line, of what her son had just said, that was what she was focusing on?

 “‘To attempt at the impossible’ is exactly how he is, isn’t it? Fooling around even though he knew it’d bring trouble to his sect!?” Jin Zixuan sneaked a look at his mother to see her eyes cold, her fist clenched tightly, he was aware they shouldn’t be hearing this, but this? It wasn’t what they expected at all, he was frozen in place, what in the world was he hearing?

Madam Jin’s thoughts matched her appearance, for once she felt less than charitable towards Yu Ziyuan, and more and more like a fool, here she was, risking her and her son’s safety, her sects safety, for a woman who couldn't care less about her son’s life, but was also wilfully blinding herself to the war right on the horizon, ‘No’ she thought to herself, ‘it was I who was truly blind’

And it was the boy she heard being called ‘Fengmian’s bastard’ or ‘son of a servant’ who had saved her son's life instead, she bit back the bitter chuckle that threatened to escape her, truly, what a fool she was, to be caught in the violet spiders web.

She looked at her son, whose face clouded over the more he heard, she grabbed his arm tightly, if nothing else then to prevent him from barging inside, with Jiang Fengmian’s favor, she was sure that they didn’t need to interfere, until, “My lady, what are you doing here?” she held back her disbelief, her son on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

This was what he was focusing on? Not the insults to his bas- to his ward? To his sect’s entire foundation? It would seem she was truly mistaken, in her and Yu Ziyuan sharing their miseries, entirely wrong about her character, and who was still throwing around callous words for the sake of it, for what else? If not her own cruelty?

"What am I doing here? What a joke that I am asked of such a thing! Sect Leader Jiang, do you still remember that I'm also the leader of Lotus Pier? Do you still remember that every inch of the earth here is my territory? Do you still remember, between the one lying there and the one standing there, which one is your son?" Disbelief and disgust couldn’t even begin to describe what Madam Jin was feeling, the Sect Leader’s response,  however, “I do remember.” Enhanced those to the heights she didn't even know she was capable of feeling.

And so stood the enraged Madam of Jin Sect, the horrified Jin heir and one ashamed disciple whose head could bow no lower, but that was nothing compared to what was said next “You do remember, but there's no use if you simply remember. Wei Ying, he really can't take it unless he stirs up some trouble, can he? If I had known, I would've made him stay in Lotus Pier properly and not go outside. Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and Lanling Jin Sect? Even if he did, it'd mean that they ran out of luck. Since when was it your turn to play the hero?"

Blood roared in Madam Jin’s ears, her nails digging into her palm, she wanted to bite Yu Ziyuan’s head off there and then. ‘Of all the idiotic, foolish, horrid, things she could utter-’ in her cursing, she only realised she had put too much force in her rage filled haze when her son hissed in pain, she immediately let go of his arm, and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking calming breaths.

She was afraid she would do something terrible and irrevocable if she stayed there any longer, listening to a pathetic mockery of- she exhaled and pushed Jin Zixuan towards the open doors. “B-but mother-” he looked back but she gave him that look and he quietened “Later a-Xuan.” while moving outwards, the disciple trailing behind them, they could easily catch some of the words the woman threw at Wei Wuxian.

Madam Jin gritted her teeth in anger, and left without looking back, once she and her son were seated in the boat. “A-Xuan” she began, lightly ruffling his hair “Your marriage is up to you to decide, I will have no say in the matter from here onwards” Her son was not going to be married into that cursed Sect no matter what if she could help it, she moved forward to pull him into a hug, “Mother was wrong.”

 “But mother what about..?” She heard him say, she pulled back and rest one hand on his shoulder, the other caressing his cheek, her son, who by the Jiang’s standards, should’ve been killed, and her blood boiled in her veins. “We came here to make a bond and talk if it were possible, since that wasn’t possible, it can be done some other day.” She lightly patted him, and seeing his thoughts drift off, thought to herself darkly ‘and if the Jiangs are attacked, well, they ran out of luck then.’

Her son hesitantly nodded, “Wei Wuxian...I owe him, for saving me then, if not for him.....” She sniffed, as if indicating what was obvious “Of course,” When the news spread later that Lotus Pier was attacked, with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian on the run, she hoped for Wei Wuxian’s survival, more so than the Jiang Sect Heir.

And if, perhaps, after a few years her son proposed sworn brotherhood with that Wei Wuxian, well, it wasn’t without her approval.

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

authors notes i guess?

Okay so writing Madam Yu’s lines legit left me disgusted like wtf was she even saying?? Also like I tried to write Madam Jin similar but a bit less than Madam Yu (ya know madam jin never whipped kids with her spiritual weapons, if she had any, not to our knowledge at least...right?) but ended up venturing straight into slightly dark madam jin heh, also like no engagement, no jin-wei tense relationship, (there’ll be 1-2 parts more probably) also wwx woke up earlier in this one, this’ll serve as catalyst for later years. 

#mdzs fic #jin zixuan #madam jin #jin guangshan #jiang wanyin #jiang fengmian #madam yu #unnamed disciple lol #prompt writing #anon asks #my writing

[luminois]

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩).

𝟐𝟓𝟏𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

“s-stop touching me.”

“i’m not touching you. but maybe you wish i was.”

at first you’d hoped he’d been lying, when he said you were going to spend a lot of time together. maybe he just wanted to threaten you and enjoy the fear in your eyes. but hyunjin was exceptionally true to his words, for a demon.

he hadn’t left your side since the day of your first encounter, only leaving when you went to work at the bakery or when the night came and you needed to sleep. you refused to let him in the place you worked and lived in and hyunjin had respected your wishes. which was surprising, according to what you’d been taught about his kind. you expected him to not take your words into consideration at all but so far the demon had been anything but evil. surely flirtatious and malicious in every way, trying to make you sin and reveling in how scared of him you still were, but not vile.

for weeks now hyunjin had waited outside your door in the morning, greeting you with that sly grin of his before following you around as you went on with your day. one couldn't have described him as a lost puppy, though. he walked next to you but a step back, towering over you with his hands shoved in his pockets and red eyes barely leaving the space between your shoulder blades to look straight ahead. you wondered if he was waiting for your wings to suddenly start to grow or just pondering about your most vulnerable spot.

his walk was sure, steady as if he was the one leading the way, and the dark energy radiating from him kept you walking on your toes. sometimes he showed up with red bite marks on his neck or with bruised knuckles or a split lip, at times it was all of them together. you’d thought about asking him what he got up to when he wasn’t with you but in the end you never did. the demon never seemed to have anywhere to be, so you figured he entertained himself with casual mischief you didn’t want to know about. his favorite pastime, however, were surely you.

you felt your cheeks start to burn as you looked back at him. you could swear you’d felt his touch on your back, but his hands were in his pockets as always. you’d been walking closer to each other that day. you told yourself it was all hyunjin, but the truth was that you felt colder than usual and you’d quickly found out that nothing could compare to the warmth coming from him.

“what happened, angel, cat got your tongue?” he said, his fingers now actually brushing the bare skin between your skirt and the hem of your shirt. you flinched away as if you’d been burnt and he chuckled. “it’s not a sin to let other people touch you, you know.”

“it is if the one doing the touching is you,” you muttered.

you walked faster to further the distance between you and him, but the cold clawing at your skin had you hugging yourself and rubbing your arms for relief.

“you’re cold,” hyunjin said, more an observation than a question.

you turned to answer him but your words were instantly replaced by a gasp. with one stride he’d reached you, and with a swift move of his hands he turned you around by your waist. his warm palms sent shivers down your spine, but what made you gasp was the way your skirt had shown what was underneath in the turn.

you glanced around, shame making your cheek turn scarlet red, before hyunjin held you close to his body, forcing you to look at him only.

“the street is empty, angel, nobody saw anything.”

your palms weakly pushed at his chest, trying to get away but aware you couldn’t win against his strength. “how do i know you’re not lying?”

“i wouldn’t gain anything from it,” the demon said, subtly smoothing down the fabric of your skirt. “it would be way funnier to make you believe someone saw the cute, pink little panties you’re wearing, but i’m a gentleman.”

you pondered his words and, against your better judgment, chose to trust him and his seemingly flawless logic, letting yourself relax in his hold. hyunjin’s embrace felt like basking in the sun, his arms gentle flames caressing your skin. you forgot who was holding you as his fingers weaved through your hair, but then realization hit you and you almost hit his chin with how fast you looked back up at him. your widened eyes met his smirk, and your words sounded defeated.

“you saw them, didn’t you?”

“the strawberry pattern is absolutely adorable, but i’ll have you know that my taste is a tad different.”

you could feel your heartbeat in your cheeks from how warm they were, and you’d never felt more embarrassed than in that moment. you tried to get out of his arms again, warmth be damned, and your frustration started getting pent up at how weak you felt when he didn’t budge an inch.

your hand was on his cheek before you could stop it. you covered your mouth with that same hand as you watched his skin become an angry red. the slap had resonated in the quiet street and rendered you both speechless, and now the silence was weighing heavy over you.

for the first time since you’d met him, hyunjin looked surprised, a change from his usually unbothered demeanor. if you’d been scared of him before now you were terrified, shaking like a leaf under his widened eyes and parted lips. what was he going to do to you? all you had against him was yourself, and your delicate human form didn’t offer anything useful in that situation.

wrath. you’d let that first sin take over you and your punishment was looking down at you, with shining red eyes and bruising touches. you silently asked for forgiveness, hoping someone would hear you, and waited.

and then the demon smiled. genuine, thrilled. perplexed, you watched the stamp of your palm become visibly painful and hyunjin’s smile grown at the same time. he looked like a maniac, but the enthusiasm written on his face made him beautiful, too.

“that felt good, right?” he said, now holding on tight to your arms, nodding to himself. “that’s what freedom feels like.”

you gaped at him, trying to get some words of dissent out while you feverishly shook your head. because it had been liberating, and the way your palm was still pulsing from the hit made you feel pleasantly warm, and now you had to choose between lying and admitting you wanted to feel that adrenaline again.

“sorry, am i interrupting something?”

hyunjin looked away from you and towards the source of that voice, which to you sounded blissfully similar to one of a savior angel. you pushed him away and turned around to smile at the newcomer, holding down your skirt.

“not at all! just a friendly conversation, that’s all,” you said, stepping closer. “do you need help?”

the person’s eyes traveled from you to hyunjin, who hadn’t moved at all, back to you again. the redness on hyunjin’s cheek was hard to ignore and you couldn't know if they’d actually seen it happen.

“i do,” they said, still unsure about the whole situation but feeling strangely relieved by your smile. “i’ve been told you help people and i could really use a piece of advice right now.”

“absolutely! i’m always here to help.”

they offered you a small smile and fiddled with their hands, visibly nervous. “there’s this friend of mine who’s really busy and often asks me for help with things like cleaning her house when she’s at work and running some errands for her. i really have no problem helping her out, but i guess somewhere along the way she started demanding i help her instead of asking, and now she gets mad when she comes home and i haven’t cleaned or cooked something for her to eat. i don’t want to lose our friendship, but it’s like i’m working for her for free and it takes time out of the things i need to do for myself, too.”

“i’m sorry that’s happening,” you said, trying to reassure them with a gentle hand on their shoulder. “have you tried talking to her about it, saying that you think it’s unfair and she should stop?”

“i’ve tried to bring up the subject but she just starts to talk about how she’s so tired from her job and it makes me feel awful.”

“maybe you can try again and-”

behind you, hyunjin scoffed loudly, cutting you off. you turned around to glare at him. “i’m sorry, do you have something to say?”

“i do, actually.”

hyunjin walked closer until he was standing next to you, looking down at the stranger with a smirk, making them blush and fiddle with their hands again. “this friend you talk about and do so much for isn‘t your friend at all, sweetheart.”

“hyunjin!” you hissed, the person’s face falling at his words, but he ignored you.

“she’s manipulating you into doing all this stuff for her, gaslighting you when she doesn’t get what she wants, and she doesn’t even thank you for it.”

“how do you know…”

“i’ve met tons of people like her,” he said, now turning to look at you, “and asking them to stop politely isn’t going to work.”

“it could! kindness always pays back.”

“it won’t, and kindness is what got them in this situation in the first place.” hyunjin turned back to the stranger, chuckling at their confused expression. “listen to me sweetheart, a hungry man either learns how to fish or starves to death. use an excuse to stop doing all of this shit for her and in a matter of days she’s going to do it herself, you don’t work for her unless she starts to pay you. and if she keeps being a pain in the ass, start using sugar instead of salt when you cook for her, accidentally set her couch on fire, be incapable on purpose and she’ll beg you to stop ‘helping’.”

you watched horrified as the person weighed his words, actually taking them into consideration, and tasted anger. it was a bitter feeling, clawing at your skin and making it impossible to think clearly. you couldn’t find anything to say to the person to make them forget about all the unreasonable suggestions the demon had given them, and the pent up frustration made your hand ache to hit hyunjin again. instead, you planted your blunt nails in your palms and glared at him.

“that’s nonsense, how could lying and causing trouble on purpose fix their friendship?”

hyunjin rolled his eyes. “when’s the last time you’ve had a friend, angel?”

“what’s that got to do with anything?!” you said, pushing away the thought of your existence in paradise. the answer to his question was that you couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t lonely.

“if you had any you would know that asking politely doesn’t work. what do they do once their friend ignores the problem again? keep asking until she’s so annoyed with them she stops being their friend for good? that’s how you lose people, not how you keep them.”

as remarks kept bouncing back and forth in this argument, where nobody was really willing to listen, the person who’d asked for help felt stuck in the middle. rumors had it that you were great at helping people, but the advice you’d given them didn’t sound like it would bring the situation anywhere. on the other side, this guy’s advice sounded like a solution, but he didn’t look very reliable and he’d earned a slap from an apparently really kind girl like you, so could he really be trusted?

you only noticed they’d left minutes later and glared at hyunjin as you heard him chuckle about it. “what’s so funny? they’ll probably go and ruin their friendship, and it’s your fault.”

“you’re what’s funny, angel.”

“excuse me?”

“maybe intriguing is a better word,” he said before turning around. “i’ll show you something.”

you watched him walk away, certain you were going to follow him. you blinked your confusion away walked fast to catch up to his long strides.

on the rooftop of the abandoned building, you could see most of the small city, a maze of streets who had once been lively. you walked closer to the railing, afraid of the height but too fascinated by the sight. it was an unsettling type of beautiful, you had to admit, but you didn’t understand why hyunjin wanted to show it to you.

“what does-”

“you’re looking the wrong way, angel,” he said and you turned to look at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but all you managed to do was gasp.

the demon was leaning on the staircase’s wall, a smile playing on his lips, and behind him a graffiti that filled the entire wall. angel wings, so detailed they seemed real, too similar to the ones of real angels to have been made by a human. there were some particular aspects of real angel wings that the human depictions had failed to grasp, but not this one.

you took slow steps and reached out your hand, mesmerized as your soft fingertips came in contact with the rough wall. hyunjin’s eyes followed your every move.

“who made this?” you asked, unable to tear your eyes away.

“humans, but the drawing is mine,” he said, smile widening when you looked at him, surprised. “when i met them they were artists without inspiration, but this helped.”

“you’ve seen an angel’s wings before?”

“i’m a century old, little angel, there’s very little i haven’t seen yet.” the demon twirled a stand of your hair around his finger and then gently pushed your shoulders until your back was against the wall. “but you’re the first angel i’ve ever seen slapping somebody or raising their voice, i didn’t think creatures like you existed.”

“you’re rubbing off on me,” you muttered, warmth spreading in your chest as he chuckled and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, before stepping back.

walking backwards, hyunjin crouched down to take in the sight of you, in the middle of the graffiti, the wonderful wings looking like they were coming out of your back. “i wish you could see how beautiful this crime looks right now.”

right, a crime. a graffiti that had ruined a public property. but then how come you felt like it made it better? a plain, sad building nobody cared about had been turned into art. how was this hurting anybody, how could this be considered a sin?

“i think… i think this crime makes me happy.”

hyunjin smiled, and you heard his words in the back of your mind. this is what freedom feels like.

do you want to read more?

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#stray kids #hyunjin #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids au #stray kids series #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin reactions #hyunjin headcanons #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #my writing

[romanticchemacademic]

Dear future health professionals and stem professors,

We need a revolution of thought. Only through a renaissance of pure and genuine passion towards medicine and other sciences will we have competent doctors, nurses, other healthcare workers, and teachers. We live in a world where people pursue noble professions for the sake of social and economic advancement. However, we lack individuals who love the process of learning and their career.

I recollect quite a marvelous excerpt written by one of the world’s greatest scientific minds, Albert Einstein. In his book, The World As I see It he writes:

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst for truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing today. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought. 

  I believe that one of the faults lies within education institutions. Educators rely on testing, textbooks, and detached memorized lectures. Lectures lack passion and another essential factor: the real practice. The theory is important but the practice is necessary to understand the theory. But without passion, nobody will learn to love the material being taught. Ibn Sina is known for being one of the greatest physicians and teachers of Islamic medicine. I am not completely sure whether what I am about to mention is true. But I read that when he lectured theory to the medical students at the Madrassa (University) he would show them how it worked. Besides medical history and theory. He also taught physics, astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics. However, he is also famed for being an excellent teacher duly because he would take his students to test out the theories and practice what they have been taught. If they were learning medical theory, they were taken to the hospital to observe patients and their cases. If they were learning astronomy, they would all gather in the evening to look up at the heavens to look at the constellations. Lastly, his passion for his vocation was the final touch. Educators without the drive cannot teach. Learning is about understanding oneself, others, and the world. Learning evolves our minds and our spirits by making us get in harmony with the universe. I believe this ties in with Aristotle’s famous saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Though my interpretation may be a wee bit off, I translate it as thus; we can gather all textbook knowledge as possible but if we do not put into practice the knowledge learned, what is the point? I yearn and I pine to experience all that I have learned. I want to see why the theory makes sense in reality. I want to conduct experiments. So much potential is being wasted. Biology is the study of life. However, when I took the course, it was so cold to a point that it did not even feel like I was studying the human body but something alien instead. There is also such a rush to memorize material within a couple of weeks because of exams that the material ceases to be interesting and becomes more of an arduous chore instead. Our sense of time-shifted completely after the industrial revolution. Perhaps this is a reason why we feel the need to rush through everything and not take our time to study profoundly. 

We need another Scientific Revolution, curious minds thirsting for the acquisition of knowledge and unanswered questions. However, I believe that the leading force behind this is a necessity. I would like to mention an example to illustrate what I mean from a novel I read a while ago called, The Physician by Noah Gordon. A boy from Medieval Europe lost his mother from an unknown disease leaving him orphaned. He then grew up with the necessity to learn what the disease was and how to prevent other similar deaths, so that others do not suffer what he has suffered. He then worked with Barbers (people who performed medical procedures in Medieval Europe). But the medical knowledge these professionals had was not enough to answer his question. Thus, he traveled to Persia where there was a quite renowned and exclusive medical school. He did not have the economic means or previous schooling to attend but he impressed the headmaster with his passion and knowledge. Thus, the headmaster admitted him into the Madrassa. The European boy then invested all his time doing research, dissections and treating patients until he finally found out what ailment caused his mother’s death, side sickness (appendicitis). He figured out a way to treat this illness, removal of the appendix. From his initial necessity which was the driving force for him to pursue a medical career, he became a famous physician and felt that all his suffering and odyssey were worthwhile. The sense of necessity leads to the feeling of passion. It was his love for his mother that made him follow such a journey full of obstacles. I am beginning to apply that to my own life. I want to figure out my necessity which will be the driving force to power through university and medical school without ever feeling burnt out. I want to feel fulfilled. I believe this is what all pre-medical students and teachers should think about. What is your necessity? We are going to be dealing with human life, someone’s mother, father, friend, sister, uncle, lover, husband, or child...It is not something to be taken lightly. I know so many doctors lacking empathy because they went into the medical field with just the intention of being acknowledged as “Doctors” and getting rich. But I feel that even the most apathetic healthcare workers can become great empathetic professionals the moment they realize that something was triggered deep inside them, perhaps a loved one having an unknown disease. This would lead the apathetic doctor to do mass amounts of research to try to find a cure. This feeling becomes a necessity. A necessity to not lose the loved one. A necessity to save lives. Thus, finding passion, purpose, and becoming a better person. Though each person is different, we all share a selfish feeling. Most of the time we do not truly care about other peoples’ suffering until it happens to us. Once we are affected by something, we drive all our time and attention to find a solution or a way to deal with a problem. We become consumed and completely obsessed by it. I regard this as passion. I do not think passion subsides, it lingers on inside us. It is a fire that never burns out. I remember my high school teacher writing in my yearbook:

Remember a few things, BE PATIENT. You are eager and you will accomplish so much. But take your time, you are always rushing. Life is a journey, it is not about the destination. Be picky. You love everything with enthusiasm but enthusiasm can burn out. Find a fire inside yourself that burns for a long time.

-V

We cannot rush our personal legend. I believe it comes to us. It is Maktub (it’s written). But we also have to do something. Imagine you are on a stranded island but you have a machete, a fishing rod, coconuts, a cave for shelter, wood for a fire, an ocean full of fish. Everything required for survival is there, but you simply have to cut open the coconut with the machete, go fishing for food, fire to cook, and warmth. The fish isn’t going to swim right into your hands and the fire will not light itself. We must use our resources and do our bit. The Universe has a lot going on, we must help out a bit.

If you ever think about quitting, try to remember what made you start your odyssey in the first place. I do not know what my necessity is yet but that is okay. I believe it will come to me eventually. So for now, I simply love to romanticize academia. I like to imagine the: earthy tones of the universities archways, cobblestone paths, laboratories with clean Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, pristine white lab coats, bunsen burner flames changing colors as different salts are added, Bromothymol Blue pen stains, elegant calculations inside a worn leather-bound notebook, formulas scrawled over the blackboard, forgotten cold Irish breakfast tea on the desk, academics discussing theories, applause from a successful experiment, gray rainy days spent inside the lab, Whitman, Hemingway, et Sir Arthur Conon Doyle being read during break, intellectual conversations with professors, chemistry reports being written, molecular models built, volumes of ancient words, fire slowly burning in the stone fireplace, trying to understand, looking at the constellations on a clear night in the astronomy tower, reciting poetry, Tchaikovsky playing whilst completing a long lab report on Lê Chatelier’s theory of Equilibrium, curious minds, sleepless evenings in the library, beautiful anatomical illustrations...Just imagining these things motivate and inspire me to continue my path. Though it may seem superficial, it awakens something inside me. I yearn and I pine to become a Chemistry Romantic. 

I want to conclude this letter by saying that pupils and educators keep ideals alive and can change them accordingly as well. We have the power to become excellent professionals or simply exist and do nothing for the human race. But if you plan on becoming a physician or educator, you must find the trigger which brings your passion to life, your necessity. Once you find that, you are guaranteed greatness and fulfillment. However, do not rush. Perfection takes time. A couple of obstacles should not hinder you from persevering. Many will tell you to give up but do not. That is the Universe testing you. Do your best until you master the topic. Once you know better, you are then able to do better. 

Regards,

Confessions from a Chemistry Academic

#stem dark academia #dark academia #academia #stem #philosophy #academic universitylife #unilife #chemistry #medicine

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4) 

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4)

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it?  😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun romance #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #Six Phases

[fa1rytunes]

pairing: mona/keqing rating: explicit word count: 5.6k tw: none tags: modern au, sugar baby/sugar mommy, exhibitionism/public sex, truth or dare, safewords, established relationship, sex toys

> NO MINORS ALLOWED, NOTSFW CONTENT <

ao3 link: here other notes: written for femslash week 2nd edition, title from song Knock Me Out by Miyavi ft. Mikki Ekko

Mona and Keqing enjoy a nice evening together after a day out shopping, when Mona suggests a game of truth or dare. What follows was something she should've expected, knowing Keqing, but the Yuheng still manages to take her by surprise.

Keqing’s lips feel soft like feathers, sweet and warm, and her breath sends shivers down Mona’s spine as she’s kissing the black-haired young woman deeply, clutching her body against hers. The taste of alcohol lingers on Keqing’s tongue, and she’s still holding the glass of wine in one hand as she leans in..

Keqing feels like home, and Mona only wants to lose herself in her arms.

It hasn’t been long since destiny has put them in each other’s path, but, to Mona, it feels like it was meant to be. Every new thing she discovers about Keqing makes her heart throb with excitement. At first, she somewhat feared that her neediness would scare the purple-haired young woman away, but it only seemed to draw her further in.

Once again, today, she’s indulged Mona the best way she knows. On the coffee table in front of the two women are several shopping bags with clothes half pulled out of them, price tags still attached. It’s only “things”, but it feels like they mean so much more to Mona when it’s her girlfriend who’s pulling out her credit card to pay for them. She supposes it’s only their love language. The way Keqing’s eyes sparkle with enthusiasm every time she sees Mona wearing clothes she bought for her just makes Mona so happy.

Keqing looks at Mona with half-lidded eyes, her magenta gaze piercing as it glimmers under the pale glow of the table lamp. She hums pensively, holding a strand of Mona’s hair between her fingers, with an impish smile floating on her lips. Mona thinks she’d like to kiss her again, but it feels like she owes her more than that as a thanks for the day they just spent together. Not only did Keqing buy her that dress she’s been eyeing for ages, but the Yuheng also treated her to dinner… Yeah, Mona thinks she should definitely do more. But what would please Keqing?

An idea flashes across the younger woman’s mind.

“Hey, would you like to play truth or dare?” she asks.

Keqing bites her lips and huffs, almost laughing.

“Are you sure? I don’t really play nice… If you pick ‘dare’, you might get burnt,” she says, softly stroking Mona’s cheek, a playful smirk floating on her lips.

Mona catches her hand with hers, and pauses for a few seconds before replying. The way her eyes twinkled when she suggested the game tells Mona her girlfriend would very much like it if Mona said yes… And so the dark-haired young woman does, without much regard for Keqing’s warning.

“Don’t underestimate me! Besides, I don’t think you’d really do anything that would upset me. I trust you,” she replies.

Keqing hums. “Be careful, you might be biting off more than you can chew.”

Mona chuckles. That really isn’t reassuring, but she really can’t see Keqing asking her to do anything she’d actually regret, or that would put her in harm’s way. And… if push comes to shove, she’s sure Keqing would agree to change her dare if Mona found it too intimidating… She would, wouldn’t she? Mona chooses to bet on that.

“Anything to please you, my dear,” she says, leaning in closer, touching her nose with Keqing’s.

It’s Keqing’s turn to chuckle. She gets up, abandoning Mona on the couch, to go grab something in her purse. When she comes back, she’s brandishing a shiny quarter.

“Let’s play heads or tails to decide who gets to ask first.”

“Sure, I’ll be heads,” Mona replies.

“Alright, here goes.”

Keqing throws the coin and manages to catch it at the right moment, and flips it over on her hand to unveil… tails.

“Alright, sooooo,” Keqing sings, “what’s it gonna be? Truth or dare?”

Mona rubs her chin and leans back into the couch as Keqing plops herself back down next to her. Their legs are touching, and Keqing rests her arm on the back of the couch, turning towards Mona.

“Hm, truth,” Mona says after a moment.

Keqing hums in response. She turns her head to the side to look around her apartment, as though the furniture could give her an idea of what to ask. Her eyes widen and she huffs as an idea suddenly comes to her.

“Ah, tell me, Mona, apart from our astrological sign compatibility, what made you fall for me?”

Mona bites her lips and raises her gaze to the ceiling. That was one question she wasn’t expecting. With how Keqing had warned her about not playing nice, she’d expected to be asked about embarrassing high school or college stories, not about her feelings. But Keqing always has the habit of putting Mona on the spot when she least expects it. And that’s really part of what brings Mona back to Keqing, time and time again. And so she goes with that thought.

“Every day I spend with you is an adventure where I get to discover more about you, more about me, more about us, and it makes me feel like I’m seeing life in its true colours for the first time,” she finally says, blushing slightly.

It feels so cheesy… But none of these words feels like an exaggeration.

“Aw, you’re a delight, little star,” Keqing replies, softly kissing Mona’s rosy cheek.

“… Thank you,” Mona replies, shyly averting her gaze from the Yuheng.

She still has a hard time believing this relationship is real. How the hell did she, a measly astrologist struggling to get by, working odd jobs to make ends meet, end up falling into the arms of a gorgeous businesswoman who seems so uncannily perfect for her? They met at the behest of a common friend, Lumine, who thought they’d get along. During their first date, something clicked, and it felt almost surreal. Things escalated way faster than they’d ever had for either of them.

However, during the first date and the few next ones, Mona was unaware of who Keqing really was. Then, she found out that Keqing was a member of the executive board of the most powerful real estate group in the city, the Qixing, and she almost ghosted Keqing.

Mona felt that this couldn’t be anything but a dream, that somehow she’d fallen asleep at a house party or something. She still feels that way sometimes. Some part of her feared that she was getting taken advantage of, for being younger, more naïve, less experienced than Keqing. But when she opened her phone the next day after she found out about Keqing’s job, she found a small string of cute, loving text messages from the Yuheng, wishing her a good day and asking her if they could meet up for lunch. She couldn’t bring herself to pass that up, not with the flutters in her stomach and the way she remembered feeling everytime they saw each other. Before she knew it, the worries faded somewhat, and one date after another, they found themselves in a committed relationship.

It really feels like they were destined to cross each other’s path.

The more time she spends with Keqing, the more she feels it. The small, nagging doubts in the back of her mind grow weaker and weaker. Especially in moments like these, when the warmth of Keqing’s lips on her jaw, her cheek, her temple, feels so sincerely loving and comfortable. Keqing lazily puts both of her legs over Mona’s thighs as she leans back against the couch.

“So, my turn now. Truth or dare?” Mona asks.

Keqing has an amused smile floating on her lips. She hums before replying.

“Dare,” she finally says, but it really doesn’t seem like she hesitated that much.

That really shouldn’t surprise Mona. The way Keqing thwarts her expectations is part of what draws Mona in. Not that this displeases Mona… If there’s one thing she likes about Keqing, it’s how the businesswoman pushes her outside of her comfort zone, but always gently, always affectionately. However, part of her wishes Keqing had picked ‘truth’, that way she’d have been able to ask her the same question she’d been asked.

Mona’s eyes wander a bit around the room before snapping back to the Yuheng’s soft amethyst eyes. There’s something that Mona’s been curious about ever since they first got… intimate. And she’s sure Keqing really won’t mind, in fact, her enthusiasm may end up feeling a bit intimidating.

“I want you to… show me your sex toy collection,” Mona declares.

Keqing smiles again, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh, really? Mona, you naughty little witch… Well, I must warn you, I have a lot. You might find it… overwhelming,” she says.

“Don’t think I’ll be bothered by such measly little things,” Mona replies, waving her finger. “Aren’t you turning a bit overprotective? I’m tougher than I look, I can handle it.”

The way she smiles betrays how half-hearted her protest is. She finds the way Keqing tries to protect her quite endearing. However, she feels confident that there’s no part of Keqing that could really scare her away. She lays her hands on Keqing’s knees, sliding them a bit down her exposed thighs.

“Maybe, but you can’t deny that’s how you like me,” Keqing huffs.

Keqing prevents Mona from touching her any further by slipping her legs off from Mona’s knees and getting up from the couch. When she sees the slight pout on Mona’s face, the purple-haired young woman laughs sweetly.

“Come on, aren’t I supposed to show you my sex toy collection?” she says, smirking.

“Alright, alright,” Mona replies.

She sighs and grabs Keqing’s outstretched hand to get up from the couch. She follows behind her into the bedroom. The Yuheng’s purple hair, soft like lilacs, dances behind her as she walks, and the elegant high-waisted shorts she’s wearing perfectly espouse her curves. Her hand feels warm in Mona’s. Once in her bedroom, Keqing opens the walk-in closet and pulls a fairly large bin from under one of the shelves, and brings it to her bed. Mona knows she had to expect a lot, but the sheer size of the bin already feels a bit intimidating. Still, she keeps her composure, her curiosity winning over her slight nervousness. Keqing opens the bin and starts laying down the items on her bed.

“So… that’s not everything but that’s the bulk of it,” Keqing says.

Oh. There really is a lot. Mona would be hard-pressed to identify the uses of many of the items, much less name them. There is, at the very least, an ample selection of restraints and ropes, various dildos and vibrators, and a few more items that are somewhat familiar..

“So… Anything piquing your interest?” Keqing asks, turning towards Mona.

She’s smiling, slightly biting her lower lip. Mona smiles back, but her smile is slightly nervous, and there’s no doubt in her mind that Keqing has probably caught that.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Mona says.

“It’s alright, don’t worry… I’m a patient teacher,” Keqing replies, and her expression is much softer, caring. “So… truth or dare, dear?”

She gets up and puts the hair from one of Mona’s ponytails behind her shoulder, and then lands a soft kiss on the exposed skin. Mona loves those little gestures so much. They light up sparks in her heart, and it’s the kind of attention she’s rarely had from other people before. Some part of her trembles in anticipation for what Keqing will do to her later, but her trust in her partner is almost absolute; that flutter deep in her chest is equal parts nervousness and excitement.

“Dare,” Mona says.

She’s partly expecting Keqing to ask her to try one of her toys, but it’s really not Keqing’s style to be this predictable. Keqing’s lips curl up again, and then she asks something a bit unexpected.

“I dare you to go out on the balcony and flash your chest.”

Mona’s cheeks instantly heat up as she flinches, and Keqing’s smile melts into a smirk. Mona knows that the balcony in Keqing’s bedroom is over a small backyard, one she shares with her downstairs neighbour. The back of the yard is against the backyard of another 2-unit building, almost identical to the one Keqing inhabits. The risk of being seen, while not null, is rather small. Mona takes in a sharp inhale and sighs while Keqing gets behind her and gently pushes her towards the balcony.

“Come on, nobody will even see you,” she murmurs, her mouth so close to Mona’s ear that her breath triggers a wave of shivers down her spine. “If you do it, you might get a treat out of it, who knows? Or would you rather be considered the loser?” she adds, tauntingly.

“Pffft, don’t go around thinking a small challenge like that is enough to scare me, Keqing!” Mona snaps back.

But her flushed face lets Keqing know this is embarrassing for Mona. She’s pouting as she’s walking to the balcony. Once there, she nervously looks around to make sure no neighbours are out. There is a cool breeze outside, and the skies are tinted pink as the last rays of sunshine are fading behind the horizon. It’s a clear summer evening, and the air is filled with the chirping of birds and the sound of crickets singing in the distance. Begrudgingly, she pulls her tank top out of her skirt and raises the hem above her chest. She nervously glances back at Keqing, who is innocently smiling, sitting on the bed right behind Mona, still inside her room. Mona rolls her eyes and grabs the band of the lace bralette that still covers her breasts, and quickly pulls it up. She then turns around to face the backyard. Not even a second later, she pulls everything back down, clenching her jaw as she turns again towards Keqing.

“Happy?” she asks.

Keqing has a light chuckle.

“Sure. Guess you did fulfill it. But I wish I’d had the opportunity to admire for a bit longer,” she admits.

The slight smile that floats on Mona’s lips at those words betrays how happy she is to receive this kind of attention, even as she shakes her head in disapproval.

“Tch,” she says. “Well, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth!” Keqing replies without a second of hesitation, once again going against Mona’s expectations.

But this time, Mona is more relaxed because she knows what question she’s going to ask. She leans back against the railing of the balcony.

“Alright then. What made you fall for me?” Mona asks.

Keqing smirks, and the fondness in her eyes strikes Mona; she always feels a slight warmth rising in her chest when Keqing looks at her like that, and this time is no different. It feels fluffy, comfortable. The Yuheng gets up from the bed and walks to the balcony to lean on it, facing the backyard. Mona turns around as well, knocking their elbows together. A slight yelp escapes her lips when she feels Keqing slapping her butt.

“Well, first and foremost, anyone who would pass that ass is a total idiot,” she says.

“Keqing!” Mona exclaims, the blush on her cheeks renewed.

“Secondly…” Keqing’s eyes get lost in the sky above for a moment. “I feel like I have as much to teach you as I have to learn from you. It seems like you always get me to see things from a more abstract perspective, whereas I tend to fixate on the very concrete side. It really feels like you complete me.”

Mona turns towards Keqing and wraps her arms around her waist, and Keqing puts hers around Mona’s neck. Her smile is sweet and airy like sponge cake, and the soft kiss she lands on Mona’s lips is the icing on top of it.

“Truth or dare, love?” she asks.

“... dare,” Mona answers after a brief hesitation.

“Are you sure?” That playful smirk is back on her lips.

“Well, it’s too late to back out, and… I know you enjoy it,” Mona says.

As embarrassing as it was to fulfill Keqing’s last dare, Mona still feels something trembling deep in her chest in anticipation for what will come next. Most of all, she’s embarrassed to admit that the thrill of having to bare her chest outside was not as unpleasant as she’d imagined.

“Well then… I dare you to stay on this balcony and take off your panties,” Keqing says.

She lets go of Mona's neck and walks back inside her bedroom, plopping herself on top of the bed once again, and crossing her legs as she observes Mona. The dark-haired young woman huffs and rolls her eyes again and executes herself, discreetly pulling down the lacy black panties she was wearing under her skirt. She doesn’t mind that much, her skirt goes quite a few inches past her crotch, and the breeze is too weak to really lift it up.

“That’s all?” Mona asks. Part of her is eagerly wishing for what might come next, but she’s also not all that sure she wants it.

Keqing nods, but the smug smile on her lips tells Mona Keqing is definitely not done with her yet.

“I’ll pick truth,” Keqing says, spreading her arms behind herself and leaning back.

Mona chews her lower lip as she thinks about what to ask. She turns back towards the yard and lets her eyes wander on the horizon, before turning around again to Keqing, where her eyes fall on the collection of sex toys still on display on the bed.

“What’s the biggest toy you’ve ever… you know, taken in?” Mona asks, immediately averting Keqing’s gaze.

She’s more embarrassed that she’s asking the question than Keqing is embarrassed to answer it. Keqing rolls on her stomach and grabs one of the dildos on the bed.

“This one,” Keqing says, sitting up and brandishing the bright pink silicone toy.

It’s huge. Keqing’s hand doesn’t go the whole way around its girth. Mona doesn’t know if she regrets asking or not. Her eyes widen slightly, but she does her best to conceal her surprise. Not that it’s really worth it to try to conceal anything from Keqing, but she has a pride to maintain. Without skipping a beat, Keqing then asks Mona to pick truth or dare again. Mona’s lips are pressed into a thin line as she tries to think. She’s still standing out there on the balcony, pantiless, and it’s obvious that the next time she picks ‘dare’, she won’t escape it unscathed. And yet… she does want it.

“Okay… let’s say… dare,” she lets out.

“Are you really, really sure?” Keqing asks.

Mona sighs and clenches her fists. The blush is back on her cheeks, redder than ever.

“Stop… stop… argh, I know what I’m getting into, I swear.” Mona stumbles on her words, flustered.

“Alright, alright…” Keqing barely stifles her chuckle. “Well, then… I dare you to turn around, lean against the railing, and stay still for the next five minutes.”

“Uh, sure…” Mona says.

The heat she feels rising on her cheeks is almost unbearable. The nervousness has her breath short, but the tingle she feels settling in her stomach doesn’t lie. She’s… awaiting what comes next more enthusiastically than she’d ever admit to anyone, not even herself. She obeys Keqing’s instruction to the letter and waits. A few moments later, she feels Keqing’s presence behind herself, and she feels the Yuheng’s fingers inside her thigh. Her fingers feel hot, too hot already.

“Don’t forget that you can’t move, or you’ll lose,” Keqing whispers next to Mona’s ear, and the sensation of her warm breath on her ear and neck sends shivers down Mona’s spine.

Mona yelps as Keqing’s fingers creep increasingly higher between her legs, closer and closer to the sensitive spot laid bare thanks to Keqing’s previous dare to Mona. Oh. Mona suddenly understands Keqing already had something in mind back then, and is both abashed by her own lack of foresight and aroused at the thought. Obediently, she spreads her legs a bit further apart, and Keqing hums in approbation.

“Look at you, so nicely offering yourself, even though we’re still outside on the balcony, where anyone could see us at any time…” Keqing purrs.

“D-don’t… fuck, ah!” Mona yelps as she feels Keqing’s fingers finally reaching up to her cunt under her skirt.

Keqing’s touch feels so good, her fingers burrowing in her slit, moving all the way up to her clit. Mona barely resists the temptation to clench her thighs together and her mind goes blank as Keqing’s fingers move back down.

“You’re already wet, honey,” Keqing whispers. “If you really, really want me to stop, just say the word. You remember it, right?”

“T-temperance,” Mona mumbles.

“That’s right, just like the tarot card,” Keqing huffs, before tenderly kissing Mona’s temple.

Keqing teases the entrance of her pussy with two fingers, and it feels so hot that Mona’s breath is already strained. But her fingers don’t stay there for long; Keqing thrusts them in once, twice, and then pulls them out, but it’s only to replace them with something she was holding in her other hand, which Mona hadn’t seen.

The small foreign object slips in without any difficulty, and Keqing doesn’t even need to push hard to bury it to a satisfying depth in Mona’s cunt.

“Try not to come too fast,” Keqing says, and she chuckles before walking back inside the bedroom, abandoning Mona with the device inside of her.

Mona doesn’t know what it is, but it doesn’t take her long to find out. Keqing activates it as she sits down on the bed again. Mona instantly feels all her nerves fire up.

It’s a vibrator. Of course, it’s a vibrator. It vibrates in small pulses, with relatively long pauses, but Mona feels herself squirming every time it does. It feels like she’s getting wetter and wetter by the second, and it doesn’t take her long before she feels her arousal slowly dripping between her thighs.

Struggling to withstand the sensation, she presses her thighs together and leans further against the railing, bending over, her head pressed on the railing between her elbows.

Keqing giggles behind Mona, and Mona lifts her forehead and turns it to the side to glare at her.

“Is it too much?” Keqing asks.

“Ffff… you’re… fuck, ah…”

Keqing pressed the button to increase the frequency of the pulses just before Mona replied. Mona doesn’t add anything else, and instead leans her head against the palms of her hands, her mind too overtaken by the sensation for her to form coherent sentences. All that goes through her mind is the feeling of that tiny thing, so small it’s not even actually stretching her out, but so powerful it has the pressure already building up down there.

In the middle of this, she somehow manages to think that, at least, she’s not indecently exposed, so any onlooker will probably not be able to tell what’s going on under her skirt. Or so she hopes, although her face would probably clue in anyone who spent more than a second looking at it.

Those five minutes go by agonizingly slowly. Keqing plays around with the different vibrating patterns, and Mona can guess the self-satisfied smile that probably floats on her lips as she does. Mona’s knees quickly buck, and it takes her all her focus to stay standing with her elbows on the railing, as Keqing ordered.

She feels herself getting increasingly closer to the breaking point, and is both astonished and flustered at how little it takes her to reach that height.

“P-please s-stop it, I c-can’t…” Mona says, looking back at Keqing.

She’s not saying their safeword, and it’s because part of her does want this, but she’s hoping Keqing will show her mercy on her own. A foolish hope, it seems. Keqing gets up from the bed and grabs Mona’s chin, directing her face to the empty backyard again.

“You have to stay still, dear,” Keqing says. “Otherwise you’ll lose.”

“P-please, I’m… hah, oh lord, I’m b-begging,” Mona utters.

Keqing laughs, but it’s a honeyed laugh, and Mona doesn’t have to look at her to guess that she’s still smirking. The remote clicks in Keqing’s hand, and the vibrator stops, but Keqing only gives her a handful of seconds of respite.

“You’re so cute when you beg, but I know you can tough it out… There’s less than a minute left,” Keqing says, and Mona hears the click again, and feels the vibration resuming instantly.

She moans, and her toes are curling even though her feet are still both on the floor. Keqing delivers a quick slap to Mona’s butt, and Mona moans a second time, clenching her fists tight. Her legs are quivering and her knees are barely holding on as she keeps getting closer to the release, and her breathing keeps accelerating, her heart furiously beating in her chest.

But the climax doesn’t come, because the vibration suddenly stops just as Mona is on the brink of orgasming.

“The five minutes are done… Congratulations, you succeeded,” Keqing cheekily declares.

Mona doesn’t know if she feels more relieved or frustrated at the deprivation. The itch is so strong, and she feels so hot all over, but she decides to bear it to the best of her ability and ignore how damp it feels between her legs and how much she wants to get off. Oh lord, this is tough, though, and it takes her all her might to resist.

“I’ll pick ‘truth’, by the way,” the purple-haired young woman adds.

It takes Mona a while before she can focus enough to think about a question to ask. She wants to flip off Keqing for getting her so close, and beg for her to let her come, but she can’t bring herself to do that. Her ego is stronger than the urge. She turns around to look at Keqing as she’s trying to think of a question.

Keqing has that playful smile again on her lips, curling them up softly. Oh, that smug air simultaneously angers Mona and makes her fall for Keqing all over again.

And, since they are so obviously on the topic of sex, Mona figures she might as well ask a question about the topic.

“Ugh…” she groans. “Well… what’s your, um, weirdest kink…?” Mona asks.

“I don’t know that most kinky people would think of it as a weird kink, but I do like petplay a lot, and most ordinary folks find that pretty strange,” Keqing replied, without even thinking about it.

“You mean, like, where one of us pretends to be a pet and the other the master…?” Mona furrows her brows, somewhat intrigued.

“Yes. Except… I only like to be the master,” Keqing says.

Mona pauses for a moment. Somehow, the thought of Keqing treating her as a pet isn’t all that repulsive. In fact, the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks she might enjoy it.

“We should… try that sometime, maybe,” Mona says with a smirk.

“Oh…” Keqing looks surprised. “Sure, we could. But, for now… truth or dare, darling?”

Mona rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Dare.”

Of course, she had to pick ‘dare’. As much as she’s trying to ignore it, her yearning hasn’t grown less pressing since the little device stopped vibrating in her depths, and it left her wanton, trembling with lust. She’s only hoping that Keqing will use the next dare to indulge her, but she wouldn’t bet on it if she was asked.

Keqing hums. “You naughty little thing, I knew you’d want more,” she says.

“It’s your fault,” Mona grumbles, avoiding Keqing’s gaze.

Keqing’s laughter is crystalline. She turns around to grab something from behind her.

“Well, lean against the railing again. I dare you not to come in the next five minutes,” she says.

“Really?!” Mona exclaims.

“Yeah, really,” Keqing replies.

Mona obeys, and it’s impossible to stifle the loud beating of her heart in her chest. Her breaths are shallow as she waits, nervously shuffling on her feet.

“Just relax, love,” Keqing says behind her as she lays her hands on Mona’s hips.

Mona feels Keqing’s hand creeping up between her thighs again, but this time, it’s to pull on the strap attached to the vibe and pull it out. Then, she feels the tip of something grazing against her folds, and it’s not hard to guess that it’s the tip of a dildo.

“Keqing! We’re outside!” Mona hisses.

“And? You didn’t seem to mind that much earlier.”

“I―haaaa!”

Mona tried to speak, but her words were cut short by the silicone tip stroking more intently against her pussy, and the sensation makes her breath hitch in her throat. It’s only when she feels Keqing’s hips against her backside that she realizes Keqing is not merely holding a dildo, but she’s wearing a strap-on.

“W-we can’t!” she whines.

“And yet, I don’t hear the safeword,” Keqing teases.

Mona bites her lower lip, attempting to stifle a trembling, breathy whine of pleasure as Keqing strokes the strap-on against her engorged, oversensitive cunt once again. It’s true, Keqing is not hearing their safeword coming out of Mona’s mouth―and Mona doesn’t know if she wants to say it. The thrill of the risk of getting caught is, without a doubt, part of what got her so close to coming earlier. And yet, the risk was nowhere near as obvious as it is now, now that the tip of the strap-on is pressing against Mona’s drenched folds, and Mona bucks her hips almost reflexively to allow Keqing to enter her cunt.

She moans as Keqing presses the toy further in, and it makes it inside of her almost effortlessly, so sopping wet her cunt is, well prepped by the vibrator now abandoned at Mona’s feet.

Mona knows Keqing’s dare is to not come before the five minutes are over, but she already knows she won’t be able to tough it out… Especially not as Keqing buries the toy a bit deeper before pulling back, and then she thrusts deeper, and it doesn’t take long before the strap-on is buried to the hilt inside Mona. Keqing’s hips snap against Mona’s as she starts thrusting in and out, steadying Mona’s hips by holding onto them as she moves.

Mona wants to abandon herself so badly in Keqing’s care, she wants to come, so badly, but the challenge of the dare doesn’t leave her mind, nor does the fact that they are standing out in the open on Keqing’s balcony, visible for any of her neighbours.

“You’re doing so good, kitten,” Keqing purrs as she’s thrusting in again.

Mona sighs, her mouth open, cheeks ablaze, eyes glazed with overwhelming lust. She tries to distract herself from the sensation, but it’s so hard. The toy Keqing picked fills her up so perfectly every time it bottoms out inside of her, and the ribs along the shaft stimulate the exact spot that makes the pressure build up with every thrust. Mona looks around, trying to take in the scenery instead of the feeling of the strap-on and of her lover’s hands on her hips, guiding her into the movement, but it’s for naught. She can feel her orgasm creeping closer again, and this time, it has her clenching her thighs and it makes her knees so, so weak she can hardly stand.

Her eyes widen in horror when she sees someone’s silhouette on the first floor balcony of the building to her right. A tall woman with dark hair and… an eyepatch is standing there. She gives them a thumbs up, having most definitely noticed what is happening, before quickly heading back inside. What the fuck?

Keqing saw the neighbour, but she keeps up her rhythm, even increasing the pace, resolute  to win the game. And Mona whines every time she thrusts in, while she keeps getting closer to her orgasm. Keqing had no intention to let her win―that much is evident when Mona feels the strap-on starting to vibrate inside of her, and it only takes two quick thrusts before a loud moan escapes her lips as the sensation takes her over the edge.

She keeps moaning, riding out her orgasm on the toy as Keqing slowly pushes it in and pulls it out a few more times, stroking Mona’s ass with one of her hands while the other pulls on her thigh to guide her into the movement.

When she finally pulls out, Mona is left breathless, leaning against the railing to support herself.

“Hm, guess I’ve won,” Keqing says in jest, and Mona can feel the self-satisfied smug air she must have on her face even before she turns around.

“You,” she hisses. “I love you but, damn…”

“Wait, Mona, did you just say ‘I love you’?” Keqing interrupts.

Mona turns back towards the backyard, cheeks flushed, eyes widening as she just realizes the full meaning of the words she just said.

“I… I…”

Keqing laughs.

“I love you too, baby,” she says, stepping closer to stroke Mona’s overheated cheek. “I just didn’t imagine fucking you on my balcony would be the thing that would prompt you to say that, haha…”

“I need to clean up,” Mona says, avoiding Keqing’s glimmering magenta eyes, and avoiding addressing her remark at the same time.

“I know you do. Let’s take a bath, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Mona huffs.

In this moment, Mona realizes how in over her head she is with Keqing, but she also realizes that she really doesn’t mind it all that much.

If you enjoyed your read, leave a Kudos on ao3! You can also leave me comments and replies there, I enjoy each and every one of them. Thank you!

#genshin smut #genshin mona #genshin keqing #mona x keqing #keqing x mona #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin writing #my works #my fics #fairy notsfw

[sweeethinny]

DUDE WHATTT!!!! I just read ur jilly reacting to hinny first kisss. Dude it was amazingg. But imagine if jilly were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player. HE WOULD FREAK. If u have the time pleaseee write thisss.

OMG thank yooou, i love Jily so much, and i love write them alive!

i hope you liked <3

-----------

It was early August when the Potter decided that they needed to take a vacation, James claimed that it had been so busy years and that they almost never took advantage of the Boat he bought almost five years ago, when he started to take an interest in the subject and see various programs who were dedicated to naval practice

"Does your dad really think he can do it?" Ginny asked as soon as she finished closing her bags, smiling at Harry lying on her bed, sprawled as he waited, arms crossed behind his head and following her with his eyes

''He found a pilot. After my mother convinced him, of course, that he would hardly know how to fly a boat just by watching TV shows''

The two had been dating for a while, since the end of Harry's fifth year, and Ginny had been practically adopted by the Potter family, who included her in absolutely every outing, dinner and any celebration.

Lily and she spent hours talking in the greenhouses, sometimes the mother-in-law said about how the studies she had been doing had been improving and giving results, and that it would not be long before the patients who  wounds caused by curses, finally healed. Sometimes they just talked about trivial things, like the gift Harry had bought her, or some gossip they heard.

James was also a big fan, Ginny suspected even more than Harry, hers. They flew and played almost every vacation, and the father-in-law made sure to include her in everything related to Quidditch, always reminding her how good Ginny was.

"Even more than I was, and I was considered one of the best of that time"

So traveling with the Potter was not something new, but traveling with them in the same week that might or might not arrive at the letter that would tell she about the final decision on her contract with the Harpies was too much.

''You'll be accepted, I don't know why you're so nervous'' The two of them had just stepped into the Mansion - even though Harry insisted it wasn't one - and Ginny could barely count the anxiety that was eating at her bones, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thigh and trembling feet when sitting

''Because everything can go wrong. If they think not ...''

''..They liked you'' Harry stated, squeezing her shoulders and forcing her to stop ''Everything will be fine''

Then, the four embarked for the trip to the port, Lily drove spectacularly well, laughing and having fun with the songs that played on the radio, pretending not to notice how restless her daughter-in-law was, who spent more time looking out the window than playing along with James.

''I think all of this will be good .. We need time out of communication. Of course owls can still find us, but only the most important matters'' Lily smiled in the rearview mirror, winking at the redhead in the back seat.

As soon as they arrived on the boat - named Euphemia, in honor of James' late mother - Ginny thought she would throw up right there, before they started moving through the calm, clean waters. The fear of being rejected and not being able to join any team, made her lose sleep and become more and more anxious, which made Harry worried and spent the nights by her side, talking and telling stories that she had already heard but who asked again just to distract her mind and laugh at  boyfriend.

When they started the real boat trip, she felt calmer.

The island they were going to stay on was wonderful, with clear, calm waters, and a sun that made Ginny have to wear sunscreen every hour. But it was totally worth it.

The boat ride was also magnificent, with all that wind in her face, the feeling of freedom and happiness that made her forget the tests she had done six months ago, and the most beautiful landscape she had ever seen in her life.

''I said, Lils, buying that boat was the best way to invest the money '' James said as they prepared to jump into the water, with Muggle equipment needed so they could dive deeper and deeper into the water kingdom who lived there (the pilot would never let them jump with only they bathing suits on, and Lily forbade them to bewitch the poor boy so they could use magic)

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked her as soon as they sat down to lunch, the sun at the top of the sky and the birds singing everywhere; the table was full of light, delicious foods that would not make them throw up as soon as the boat started up again, and Ginny almost moaned when she tasted the salad that Lily made with mango and pineapple.

"Yep’’ And it was true.

[...]

On Sunday morning, Ginny almost jumped out of bed when an owl hit her and Harry's bedroom window. The boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, too tired from the past few days, much more tan than he had a week ago, and looking even more handsome. Already she had a beautiful burnt shoulders, in addition to the red cheeks that her boyfriend said made she look like a cute child.

“Mrs. Wealey.

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that Holyhead Harpies is honored to announce that Ginevra Molly Weasley, 18, is officially part of the team, and that, if she agrees, the new member should pass by the Human Relations office without fail for effect the hiring until Tuesday, 08 of 1999 ...... ''

They accepted her

''Gin?''

''I came in'' She was still gaping at the letter ''I came in Harry'' And then her realized, dropping the long letter with all the rules and terms, she started jumping with joy, smiling from ear to ear '’I was accepetd’’

After the celebrations with Harry, which were based on many congratulations from him, and sex, the two left the room. The in-laws were in the kitchen, James seasoning the fish they had caught the night before, while Lily prepared a dessert pie. Ginny had always thought that the fact that her boyfriend was an incurable romantic came from having parents like that.

Molly and Arthur were in love with each other, there was no doubt, but Ginny always admired the way James treated Lily, always zealous, making sure she had everything she needed around her, paying attention whenever she started talking, as if Lily was the only person in the world.

''Urgh, you guys give me a toothache'' Harry kissed his mother's head as soon as she noticed them both, smearing his finger with stuffing and licking it, and running when Lily tried to hit him with a wet towel for touching the food

''How are you? I saw that an owl arrived earlier today ... any problem?'' James asked, without looking at any of them, focusing on the knife he used to clean the animal in front of him

''A letter from the Harpies arrived'' And as if Ginny said she had won the lottery, her in-laws turned to look at her, eyes wide.

''And ...?'' James looked more anxious than Harry, when she told him that she had entered

''You are talking to the newest player, reserve, from the Holyhead Harpies team'' She could barely contain her smile, almost jumping with joy again. Saying it out loud made everything more and more real.

''Oh Merlin! Ginny this is amazing!'' Before Lily arrived at the daughter-in-law, James ran over her, passing in front and hugging the girl with all enthusiasm

''I knew you could do it, I knew it! I told Sirius, you play so well! Jones would be being blind if she didn't accept you on the team. Oh dear, have you told your parents yet? Harry, we need to have a party when we get back! We will all wear green, in her honor'' He spoke without stopping, looking at her with happiness ''Now I will have to cheer for the Harpies, I cannot be against my daughter-in-law'' Ginny knew she was red, but it was impossible to try to hide enthusiasm when James was like that ''I knew, since Harry told us that you had learned to fly alone, I said that you would still play professionally ... Oh Merlin, we need to celebrate''

''James dear, don't choke her'' Lily pushed her husband away, and Ginny could see that she and Harry were laughing, looking amused by the moment ''I'm so happy, I saw you were nervous earlier, but I didn't want to meddle ... You will look so beautiful in green''

After the hugs, James decided that they shouldn't spend time cooking, and that he certainly wasn't seasoning that fish properly, so they went out to eat, in a restaurant not far away.

''Your father looks happier than me'' She whispered to her boyfriend when they got home and saw that, somehow, they had ordered a cake decorated in Harpy colors and with her name on top

''He loves you a lot more than he loves me .. You had to see it when I told him I asked you to date''

''I think he'll fall back when we have a son'' Harry laughed, kissing her head and nodding

''You know, you're the daughter he never had ... I don't doubt that he would trade me for you. For free'' James came back from the kitchen, Lily and him seeming to discuss what the best drink for the celebration, if wine, beer or Champagne

"To Ginny! The future star of the Holyhead Harpies'' They toasted - each with a chosen drink.

And Ginny was happy that, on that rainy afternoon in her fourth year, she was in detention with Harry. Because she would certainly never find a second family better than that.

#harry X ginny #ginny weasley #Harry Potter #harry one shot #james x lily #jily prompt #jily lives #jilytober #hinny #hinnyprompt #hinny au #hinny fluff #hp prompt #hp couples

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“Forget what I said,

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

- Falling, Harry Styles

A/N: the long anticipated third installment of “that angsty threesome story.” this shit hurted y’all. that’s all i’m gonna say. hope you enjoy :) 

Sharing Isn’t Always Caring masterlist

word count: 13k

content: A N G S T, drunk sad!harry, melancholic relationship flashbacks, and Niall being an amazing friend. oh and lots of pining pain 

preview:

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence.

or Harry and Y/N breakup after the incident and the next two months are the worst either of them have ever known

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It’s poetically ironic, if you ask him, and he felt like the universe was playing a cruel game at his expense. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

The length of time that had passed was coincidentally parallel to how much time he had spent sitting on his couch that dreaded Saturday morning— which had been two hours and thirteen minutes— wringing his hands, boiling in his regret, and waiting for her to come out of their bedroom with a verdict on their relationship. 

When Y/N had finally surfaced from her hiding spot, she had barely acknowledged him other than a few one-worded, snipped answers to his questions. She was headed out, she’d said, and that she would return later. Her path had been straight for the front door and the body language and aura she had displayed from the frame of their room door to the frame of the front door had been enough to clearly communicate a simple message: Don’t come after me. 

He had followed her to the edge of the corridor that led to the exit, but he knew better than to chase her once she was out of the door. He remained put and watched her walk out without so much as a glance back. 

She needed time, he had assured himself. Y/N needed a chance to cool off on her own and smothering her would do nothing but dig him further into the hole he was already neck-deep in. 

In hindsight, Harry should have gone after her. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, or maybe it wouldn’t have at all, but all he’s aware of now is that he’d never know.

The minute she got back, a few hours later when the sun had just finished dipping over the stretch of forest that extended beyond the balcony of their apartment, he could immediately tell he had to prepare for the worst. 

From the second Harry had met Y/N, he had always been able to read her. It’s something he prided himself in and something he always admired about the connection they shared— that it had been instant. It had been one of those rare pockets in life when he met someone and clicked with them automatically, so effortlessly that it was almost fictional. He’d always been a hopeless romantic and he had his mother and sister to thank for that; growing up with two women who constantly fed him stories about true love and the importance of emotions had molded his relationships down to the very core. And through that characteristic, which had been engraved within the man he had grown into, was how he and Y/N so easily came to be. 

Harry had been able to read the nervous excitement she was wading through on their first date, watching her with fond amusement as she had contemplated the menu, trying to pass as nonchalant but being betrayed by the obvious cinch in her brows. 

He had been able to read the first time she had wanted him to kiss her, eyes absorbing her features like the pages of a novel. He had picked up on the metaphors she depicted in the form of wine-swollen lips twitching with longing anticipation. He had picked up on the similes that translated into her slowly dilating pupils, the glittering specks of color that shimmered in the depths of her irises dancing with anxious enthusiasm as his face drew closer to her’s. He had picked up on the analogies that painted themselves onto the warm, supple skin of her cheeks as he cupped the side of her face with the palm of his large hand, fingers tucking lose strands of hair behind her ear as he thumbed over the faint smile lines chesiling themselves into existence along the edges of her mouth, her action thick with enamored awe. 

He had been able to read just how taken Y/N was with him the first time they had slept together. It was certain in how she had clung to the bare, sweaty muscles of his shoulders as her nails clawed memories along the soft sides of his torso, her head dangling over the edge of the kitchen island to allow him the intimate comfort of pressing hot, wet moans to the searing skin of her throat. He had whined and shuddered as he’d spread her open over the cold marble surface, fogging it with the heat of their conjoined bodies, the air tinged with the scent of desperate sex and blurbs of orgasm-drunken praises that to this day he can feel burn his lungs. Barely coherent mumbles of “God, been needing you for the longest time now.” and “Fuck, you’re an absolute dream.” and he had even made himself susceptible to some of his deepest vulnerabilities, confessing how quickly and dangerously he was falling for her in a breathless little whimper of, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Tiny zaps of invisible electricity had passed through her fingertips and into the flexing tendons of his back, revealing that she was just as scared and jittery and needy and absolutely whipped for him as he was for her. He had never been able to read her better than at that intense, emotion-packed moment, and he knows he’ll cherish that wordless instance of assurance for as long as he lives. 

The only other occasion that competes is the first time Harry had known Y/N loved him. They had planned to go bar-hopping with their friends but, in a spur of laziness and utter disinterest, had decided to stay back. The night had been filled with board games and hot chocolate and half-burnt quesadillas because Harry had bought a new panini press that he didn’t quite yet know how to work. He knew she loved him when he beat her at CandyLand for the third time in a row and in a whirlwind of victory dancing, he had knocked the coffee table with his knee and ended up with cooled cocoa all over his striped pajama pants rather than in his belly. 

He knew she loved him because she wasn’t upset that she’d have to help get the stain out and she wasn’t mad that he’d gotten marshmallow goo on the carpet and she wasn’t angry that his silliness had ended with her favorite vase rolling across the ground. All Y/N had been focused on was Harry and that ridiculous wide-toothed grin of his, her own lips nestling into an endeared smile as he giggled out of sheer shock at his ruined pants, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back against the couch cushions. Through teary, delight-blurred vision he saw her staring at him with this doe-like gaze, her eyes soft and glossier than he’d ever seen them, a tender laugh evident on her cheeks. Her eyebrows had been slightly furrowed with a type of disbelieving wonder at the utter moron she had chosen to share her heart with, but specifically at how she loved him all the more for it. 

That’s when Harry had read that she loved him and she had confirmed it with words about ten minutes later as they both sat on their knees against the ground, scrubbing at the mess he’d made and sharing soft little snickers under their breath. 

In the end, all of these milestone moments in their relationship had all funneled through his mind the minute Y/N had walked back into the living room on that forsaken day, hours later. They all sped past the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked, each one dissipating with each step she drew closer. She had stood before him as he sat forward tensely on the couch, forearms propped on his knees as he grasped his knuckles nervously, though they had stopped cracking ages ago. 

It all flashed back to him like a film on fast-forward and it was because for the first time ever, he wasn’t able to read her face and it fucking terrified him. 

Y/N’s eyes were the first factor that had given away the impending end. Even at the darkest of times, Harry could always count on Y/N’s eyes for support. They had always held a permanent admiring warmth towards him, even beneath clouds of rage or annoyance or worry. They had been empty that day. 

Her lips had been etched into a emotionally-detached straight line, though the corners dipped down ever so slightly. Her eyebrows were void of any wrinkle, groove, or lifting that would suggest even a smidge of sensitivity and somehow her cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if the last couple of hours had aged her years. 

Y/N had approached him with her hands cradling each other before her stomach, footsteps heavy against the carpeted ground, muffled yet somehow loud. She’d taken a seat before him on the glass coffee table, knees pressed together tightly and unintentionally brushing his as she settled her hands into the crease between her inner thighs, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the world was using her back as shelf, the flyaway hairs that had fallen from her ponytail kissing along her jaw and caressing her temples almost apologetically, as if trying to comfort her for what was next. 

Y/N hadn’t spoken a single word before Harry was already breaking down. 

It wasn’t dramatic or spontaneous like the break-up scenes in the rom coms he often fancied; it was quiet and concise. The hot tears streamed down his cheekbones and followed the slope of his sharp jaw, squeezing out of his tear ducts and rolling along the bridge of his nose, itching the very tip, to which his instincts responded by spurring him into wiping away the water with the front of his shoulder. 

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up at her out of self-hatred and shame— how could he be as selfish as to cry when everything that was about to unfold had been solely of his doing. He knew he didn’t deserve the best outcome, but he had hoped for it. Prayed that she could find it in her tattered heart to grace him with the option to rebuild what he had so recklessly torn down. He didn’t deserve it and he’d felt like he never would, but he had promised himself he would try and earn it if she gave him the chance. 

But that was just the hopeless romantic in him flaring up again. Reality was sharper and much icier. 

Harry had taken in a deep, trembling inhale, feeling it cut his lungs and tug at the pit of his stomach. He’d released it in stuttery spurts through his nose, back muscles contracting with dread. He found it in himself to uncoil one of his index fingers, gently grazing the curve of Y/N’s right knee with the bed of his nail. 

She’d tensed up momentarily, toes curling into the rug below her feet, but didn’t shed him away. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night and though it made her feel sick to her stomach, she figured she’d allow it as a parting gift. 

The air stood still for a few elongated seconds that seemed to drag out for an eternity. Finally, one of them spoke up. 

“Y/N...” Harry had choked on the singular word, swallowing thickly in an attempt to recuperate. 

The syllables seemed to lodge in his throat, outright refusing to emerge, likely due to the fact that he spent the day soundlessly moping to himself. He forced them out anyways in a low croak. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons. 

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.” 

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution. 

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence. 

Harry had cleared his throat softly, mind treading through his jumbled thoughts to try and sew together a worthy sentence, the pad of his forefinger tracing down the visible threads of Y/N’s worn jeans. 

“I didn’t mean any of it.” 

Though it’s the truth, it sounds feeble and pathetic. His words had then started tumbling out of his mouth with no rhyme or rhythm but simply in an attempt to communicate his rawest emotions. 

“That’s not an excuse or anything, but I just want to make sure that you know. And if I knew all of this was going to happen, I would’ve never brought it up in the first place. You’re important to me— I hope that all the time we’ve spent together shows that— and to lose you over something like this…” Harry pauses, choking up at the sheer notion of having to let her go. He continues his speech slowly to avoid another mishap, though it quivers nonetheless. “To lose you over something that was so stupid on my part would tear me to shreds, Y/N. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s nothing I can do now except apologize until my voice gives out and pray that you give me the chance to make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that the damage I’ve done could be beyond repair, but I also know that I will spend every second trying to mend it if you allow me to. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I know we’re young and that it sounds dramatic and I’ve been told a billion times over that I love too deeply for my own good but I don’t care because I know it’s the truth. Without even the slightest bit of doubt.”

His words had echoed across the walls of the flat, the dim buttery light of the single lamp in the living room casting their seated shadows over the creme surfaces. The dark silhouettes of their bodies seemed to absorb his message, picking it right out of the air and engulfing it into the ominous shade. 

All that could be heard was Y/N’s faint breathing as she processed his confession and the occasional sniffle on his part. The silence stretched for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds— Harry had counted. A frail distraction, but a distraction either way.

A deep inhale had cut off his mental stopwatch and he could tell Y/N had cried recently before arriving because the air had to force itself through her stuffy nose. His index finger had twitched anxiously against her knee. He found himself counting again, this time the target had been the thin lines of the rug beneath the reinforced glass of the coffee table. He hadn't known it then, but his urge to count whatever he could to pass the time had been the start of what would later develop into a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

It had only been a day but Harry had missed the sound of her voice more than he’d ever care to admit. She was talking to him rather than at him and it was enough to halt the fresh flood of tears that had been gathering across the glossy sheen of his irises. It was a victory, no matter how small. 

The sentence she spoke, however, was a whole new battle he had to face within itself. 

The words hurt, but luckily, they didn’t cut. There were dozens of harsher possibilities of what could’ve come out of her mouth and that makes him thankful for what he’d received. 

Harry had shifted in his seat, pulling the sleeve of his old Greenbay Packers sweatshirt over his free hand and tucking his arm across his stomach. His other hand remained on Y/N’s leg as non-intrusively as possible. “Is there anything you want to get out? Anything at all? I want to hear it no matter how bad you think it is. I deserve it as much as you deserve to express your feelings.” 

He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point he had absentmindedly tilted his head up to look at her. What brought it into clear attention was when she did the same and their eyes met. 

Y/N’s expression had crushed the oxygen from Harry’s lungs. 

He had hoped it would be different after everything he had said. That her eyes would hold some form of love within them, even if it was shrouded with sadness and disappointment. He had aimed to draw an ounce of forgiveness from her that he could cling onto and expand; he had aimed for redemption. 

Instead, her eyes held the same barren gaze that she had doted when she had walked in— vacant acceptance. 

Her own speech had confirmed his worst fears. 

“I don’t know if we have a future together. All I know is that right now, I feel like I could never forgive you for what you did. Watching you treat someone you barely knew the way you treat me made me feel like what we have isn’t real. Sex can be something both meaningless and meaningful and the lines between those two is finer than most people think. And even though I know in my heart that you’re telling the truth about not feeling anything towards her, I just can’t let it go. I can’t. I can’t get over the fact that you called her what you call me. That you kissed, touched, and held her the same way you do me. You made her feel the same way you make me feel. And the whole time, I was sitting there watching you do it, begging you not to and trying to communicate to you that you were crossing the line and you didn’t even notice.”

Y/N had lifted her hand from her lap, running the back of her wrist across her cheeks messily. Harry could see the tears sparkling on her lashes and he felt like his chest cavity was going to collapse in on itself. 

When she had spoken again, her voice was tight and packed with all of the pain she’d been holding onto since the incident happened. 

“You took all of the private little things that had built our relationship and shared them with someone else just to get your dick wet.” She releases a short spurt of a laugh, miserable and humorless, her palms smacking down against her thighs as she shrugs her shoulders for emphasis. “Intimacy is the most important factor of genuine love and you went and tossed it around like it was nothing. We’ll never be able to regain that; not in the way we had it before. I don’t know if I could ever trust you with it again. I shared myself with you because I love you— we opened up to each other in that way because we worked up to it. And now that you so carelessly let yourself have it with someone else, I’m too disappointed and hurt and fucking terrified to let you see me vulnerable like that again.”

Y/N had locked her eyes with Harry’s and his heart had shattered into a million shards. 

They had been swollen and bloodshot, tiny red veins webbing across the dull white, scraping at her irises and relentlessly chipping the color from them. There was no twinkle left whatsoever; the specks that normally decorated around her pupils had completely defused, disappearing into the murky sea of the muted shade behind them. 

“You broke my fucking heart, Harry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you pick up the pieces.”

He had never heard her say his name like that, so dismal and void of emotion. He’d never felt more unworthy of love than at that moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He’d fucked up and now he had no choice but to marinate in it for the rest of his days. 

The process of separating was painfully fast. 

As it turns out, when she had left the morning after everything had happened, she had gone to visit Niall. 

Niall had been the mutual friend that had introduced Harry and Y/N in the first place so, naturally, Y/N’s first instinct had been to seek his counsel. She had kept the details of the breakup to herself but from how distraught she had seemed when Niall had opened the door to his flat, his hair sticking up at weird angles and his eyes crusted over with sleep, he had known it was not on good terms. She had stood there with dried trails of tears staining her cheeks as her entire body shook like a leaf and the second he had opened his arms caringly, she immediately collapsed into them, violent sobs wracking her body unapologetically. 

The Irish lad was as big-hearted and supportive as friends came and it was seen in how he offered her the spare room in his apartment that was normally occupied as a home gym. 

“I haven’t had a roomie since I was twenty but as long as y’don’t leave your dirty underwear in the living room, I think we’ll get along just swell.”

With Niall’s help, Y/N had finished moving out by the end of that same week. 

They did the brunt of the job while Harry was busy at work, though there was an awkward instance when he unexpectedly came home early on the last day of moving. 

Luckily enough, Niall had been the one retrieving the last couple of items so Y/N was saved from the ordeal. 

The two men had contemplated each other, Niall standing with the cardboard box tucked beneath his arm while Harry stood parallel to him stiffly, keys grasped tightly in his fist. Harry didn’t know how much Niall knew of what had happened, and he didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, so he had remained silent until the blue-eyed boy finally spoke up first. 

“Mate, I don’t know what happened between you two or why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this torn up before.” 

Harry had sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in forlorn agreement at Niall’s comment. This was Y/N’s indirect way of telling him that the reason behind their breakup was meant to be kept a secret amongst their friend group. It was one last act of kindness towards him on her part because both of them knew that if word got out on what had happened, everyone would likely turn on Harry and shun him out. Y/N didn’t want that for him— despite everything, she found herself genuinely wishing him the best because she still loved him. A part of her always would, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it. 

The last thing she needed was to cling onto bitterness and make him suffer; it would be counterproductive considering her end goal was to move on. The whole situation would stay hidden and hopefully everything would eventually blow over. 

Avoiding each other proved trickier than expected in the beginning, but it gradually became routine amidst their everyday lives. 

Y/N avoided grocery shopping at Harry’s favorite market and he proceeded to change the coffee shop he went to every morning before work, well aware that it was the one she fancied the most due to the specific brand of creamer they carried. Y/N insisted on the second closest movie theatre whenever she went out with her friends for a film, knowing that Harry liked the one closest to Niall’s apartment because it was smaller, more homey, and did free refills on popcorn and drinks. Harry started frequenting the gas station near the twenty-four hour gym instead of the one near Y/N’s place of work and started doing his early morning jogs at the park on the opposite side of town, which wasn’t too bad considering it was only about a ten minute drive. Y/N stopped going to art museums all together— they were mainly Harry’s thing, either way. 

When it came down to their friends, they did the best they could. Whenever there would be a plan to go out for lunch, dinner, drinking, or any other event, they made sure to invite one and not the other, alternating turns. It kept the situation fair, though birthday parties were much more complicated. Staying on opposite ends of the club or flat would have to do. 

No one ever questioned the breakup too thoroughly, thankfully. All Y/N told them was that it ended really badly and that what was best was that they stayed clear of each other. Harry stuck to whatever he learned Y/N had said, brushing off the occasional curiosity thrown his way with a tired, “I’d rather not talk about it, yeah?” 

They were grateful to all of their friends for not pushing for details too much and respecting their privacy. Family members were harder to shake off, but both managed to keep things under wraps with the right amount of sternness. 

///

Three weeks and four days had gone by, according to Harry’s calendar, and things were remaining seemingly civil. That is, until Harry had a bit too much to drink on the fifth day and ended up drunk calling Y/N as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, eating from what he was sure was an expired box of Cheerios while counting floor tiles and wondering why the fuck he even liked tequila in the first place. 

The phone had rung three times and then the line abruptly cut off, sending Harry right to voicemail. 

“Hey, this is Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

His eyes had immediately begun to water as her voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard it and he hates that he had almost forgotten its gentle trill. The bright chime of her words were so different than the last time he’d heard her speak— her tone was easy and good-natured rather than dismal and hurt and he missed when she would regard him that way. Now, it was directed at a random person on the other end of her phone line who she might not even know and for some reason, that made his stomach twist. 

The Cheerios had started to taste funny so he opened the cabinet across from his spot on the ground and chucked them in the bin. He had then leaned back against the wall of the kitchen island, head repeatedly thunking against the polished hardwood as he redialed her number and waited, tiny hiccups plucking at his vocal chords and shuddering his shoulders without consent.

This time, it had rang only once before cutting off, meaning that she knew it was him and that she was actively delicining.

But Harry’s stubborn and insistent— which admittedly are some of his worst traits— and the fact that he had been shit-faced had fueled these characteristics. He’d continued to call her another four times before the line was finally picked up. 

His voice had filled with enamored relief as he quickly sat up, a weak smile starting to spread his cracked lips. “Y/N, hi, I—”

“Harry, you gotta cut this shit out, man.” 

It wasn’t Y/N. The person speaking had a much deeper voice with a smooth, raspy undercurrent covered in a heavy Irish accent. Their tone held a stern yet concerned edge.

“This isn’t good for either of you. You’ve got to try and move on, H.” 

It was Niall and he was on Y/N’s phone and Harry could feel himself about to vomit. 

He had forced himself to speak, clutching his stomach with one hand as if it would keep the bile from rising. His words came out slurred and numb, tongue feeling heavy and unbelievably large in his mouth. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s asleep and you should be, too. It’s three in the morning.” 

Harry’s brows had cinched down angrily over his lashes. Somehow, in his muddled brain, he was able to form a coherent train of thought about the current situation. If Y/N was asleep, that meant her phone had probably been on a nightstand beside her bed or splayed across her duvet or even on the floor considering she had a habit of twisting and turning too much. If Niall had picked it up, it meant he had to be in close proximity to her. It meant he had been in her room, possibly in her bed...

Harry’s throat burned as acid rose from his stomach. 

“I wanna talk to—”

He was cut off by the alcohol he’d had earlier resurfacing and splattering across the off-white kitchen tiles he’d been counting. 

The spluttering noises filtered through the phone crystal clear, much to his friend’s disgust.

“Jesus, Harry, just get yourself together, will you?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and then Niall’s voice had come through again, gentler and less annoyed. “Do you need me to come over and help?” 

“No.” Harry had blurted out with panic evident in his demeanor. He’d wiped at his soiled mouth with the sleeve of his black Nike jumper, staring hollowly as the mess before him traveled across the cracks of his floor. An all too familiar swelling had started to fill his tear ducts. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.” 

Apparently, it had been the third time he’d drunk-called in the span of two weeks, though he didn’t remember the first two times. He did remember this third time though— the stench stuck to his sweatshirt for a while. 

///

The next month that followed that cursed Friday night had been significantly better for Harry. 

He went out with friends and actually had fun more times than not, as long as he didn’t let his mind wander to what Y/N could be doing since she wasn’t with the group. Slowly but surely, he began to mend. 

The movies had always been his and Y/N’s favorite date idea so the first couple of times he’d gone out to see a film after the breakup had been tough, but he’d powered through the rough patches. Their favored seats at the very back of the cinema had gradually just become exactly that— seats. He was eventually able to enter a theatre without even as much as a glance to the last row. When Harry would go out to eat, he relearned not to order in excess anymore since he wouldn’t be needing those extra fries or two extra beef tacos or those couple buffalo wings she used to pick at religiously. Going out for drinks was easier on his wallet now that he could drink both of the two-for-one Happy Hour shots, the only issue being that sometimes he’d forget and order the next round while he had a perfectly untouched whiskey shot right there. He had sworn off tequila— he could still feel the way it had seared his throat, somehow manifesting an aftertaste of honeyed cereal.

Niall usually went out with the rest of the gang, but not as much as he used to and that bothered Harry extremely— bothered him to the point where he’d get the overwhelming urge to tear his hair out if he allowed himself to amble in his head too much. He hated being the jealous type, especially when he was no longer entitled to it. Especially not when Niall was such a nice best friend, willingly present for him on the nights where things went downhill and he needed someone to pick him off the ground— literally— and tell him that he would be alright.

The days Niall missed out were spent with Y/N and it wasn’t a secret. Harry had heard about how much closer they’d gotten recently through conversations that would happen across the other side of the booth, when his friends thought he wasn’t paying attention or that he was too sloshed to be properly present. He wasn’t, though. He was hyper-aware of every anecdote and syllable exchanged and it would make his mouth go sour. 

One night, he had drummed up enough courage to ask Niall outright about Y/N. They’d been out bowling and the Irish brunette had been standing off to the side waiting his turn, sipping on a pint and cackling his ass off every time Adam rolled the ball into the sideline gutters. 

Harry had been standing next to him for a while, leaning back against the machine that redispensed the bowling balls, taking tiny gulps of his third white rum margarita. The liquor filled his tummy with a certain type of empty warmth that numbed his better judgement and before he could talk himself out of it, the words were escaping his lips in a low, sheepish tone. 

“How’s Y/N?”

Niall had paused mid-sip, his entire body going rigid for a second as he kept the rim of his large glass perched at his lips. He had then pulled back from his beer, licking the froth off his Cupid’s Bow and craning his neck to acknowledge the green-eyed boy directly. 

“She’s doin’ good. Treading through the bills and tryin’ t’fill the rest with thrills, like we all do.” 

Despite the light nature of his response, Niall’s accent had been heavier and Harry’s not sure if it was due to the alcohol or the tension-packed subject of conversation. Probably both. 

Harry had nodded his head slowly— casually— and taken an ice cube into his mouth, cracking it with his teeth in the way Y/N used to scold him for. He had stared intently at the condensation gathering around the tips of his warm fingers for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Niall with aching curiosity. 

“Is she happy?”

The Irish bloke had opened his mouth to answer, and then hesitated, thinking over what he had been about to say. That teeny fraction of time filled Harry with enough nerve-grating suspense to that he was sure he’d pop a blood vessel.

Niall had cleared his throat softly, sighing tiredly through his nose. “She’s better than she was right after the split.” 

Harry hates that Y/N’s doing better. He knows how petty and selfish it comes off, but he can’t help it. If she’s doing better without him, it means she might never need him again— it means he’s replaceable to her. He can hardly fathom that thought without the backs of his eyes prickling. 

Harry had swallowed thickly, nose stinging and jaw clenching. “Is she seeing anyone?” 

Niall tilted his cup against his mouth, savoring the tanginess of the beer, grateful for its help in making this talk way easier. He’d given Harry a sympathetic slink of his head. “I don’t think that’s the type of question you should be asking, Har. One day, you might not like the answer you get.”

Harry’s fingers had tightened around the stout cylindrical glass in his grasp, rings biting into his skin. His voice came out strained but unwavering. “Is she?”

His friend’s blue eyes had flitted across different points of his face, sussing out Harry’s attitude and whether he could be convinced to back down on this specific topic. 

When it was obvious he wouldn’t budge, Niall sighed heavily once again, this time through his lips. “She’s not, no.”

Harry can’t quite place a name to the flood of emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. The closest he can relate the experience to is breaking the surface of an ocean of suffocating uninformed doubt, instead filling his lungs with illogical optimism and stunned relief. 

There was hope for them, even if the sliver was fine as a hair. 

Harry had found himself drawing closer to Niall, eyes doe-like and pleading, the neon lights of the bowling alley washing his face out with bright purples and drunken blues. “I wanna see her.”

“You can’t.” The objection had been quick and authoritative, causing Harry to blink as if he’d just been smacked between the eyes.

“Why?” It was a stupid question— he knew why. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“Because you’re only going to set yourself back. And even though you might not be thinking of the consequences it could have, I am, and I’m not going to let you hurt her or yourself more than you already have.”

And that’s when Harry realized that Niall knew. He’d heard the whole story.

The guilt-ridden young man had broken eye contact, looking down at his scuffed heeled boots. “You know.” 

“She told me a while back.” Niall’s confirmation had hung across Harry’s shoulders like a lead jacket. “You fucked up, mate. Bad.”

A weak, remorseful, “I know.” was all he could muster. 

“She knows you didn’t mean it, but I don’t know if you can come back from this, H.”

Harry repeated his previous phrase, but this time, it had been heavy with a form of undignified recognition. He was slowly coming to terms with the crushing possibility that he might never get her back. 

He’d downed the last of his drink, feeling it reluctantly settle into his stomach. He had then locked gazes with Niall once again, his own conflicted and needy, which in turn caused his friend’s to mold into one of deep worry and pity. 

“Will you just...Will you tell her that I love her so much. That I love her to the point where it’s pathetic. And that I’m so fucking sorry. That a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her and that I’d give fucking anything to earn her trust again...And that I found her Sherpa jumper under the bed and washed it in case she wants it back.” 

Niall had snorted lightly, shaking his head in amusement at Harry’s ability to be so unintentionally pure even under the most stressful circumstances. He’d tossed an arm across the jade-eyed boy’s loaded shoulders, pulling him into a hug that was very obviously needed. 

The reluctance had melted out of Harry in less than a breath, his arms wrapping around Niall’s torso, face pressing into the shorter man’s broad left shoulder. The tears he was holding back were evident in his quaking voice. “I miss her.”

Niall had remained silent for a while, not wanting to push any more boundaries. 

He had made due with running his palm across the expanse of Harry’s back in soothing circles, only speaking up when he felt his mate’s tears seeping into his knitted sweater. 

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna get through this.” 

Niall wasn’t entirely sure if his words were the truth. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his best friend, so he comforted him to the best of his ability and prayed that whatever happened in the couple’s future would bring them closure. 

Harry had gotten home that night feeling deflated and more regretful than ever. The emotional exhaustion had fused into his muscles and joints and he’d ended up collapsing on the couch, too depleted to take the walk down the corridor that led to his bedroom. 

His sleep was restless and worthless, as it tended to be of late, but it beat having to sulk consciously. The pain was less sharp and his sorrows were covered in a hazy fog that somehow made everything bearable. He slept well into the afternoon and awoke with a mean kink in his neck and a dull thumping in the back of his skull— karma, obviously, for his lack of self-care and shitty drinking habits. Nothing coffee couldn’t fix.

///

As it turns out, Niall had struggled some to pass on Harry’s message to the intended party. 

Y/N had been sitting on the couch when he’d gotten home from the bowling alley, snuggled cozily in a Friends blanket Niall had gotten last Christmas in a game of White Elephant. She had been so focused on an episode of Master Chef that she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door. 

Y/N had momentarily glanced away from her show when she saw Niall enter the living room through her peripheral vision, watching as he toed off his rusty brown Clarks boots, kicking them into the corner beside the television stand. “How was bowling?”

“It was good! Mitch beat me by two points but, frankly, I think he cheated while I went to refill my pint.”

Y/N had scoffed in amusement, taking a sip of the chamomile tea in her Mickey Mouse mug, shaking her head distractedly. “Can you even cheat in bowling?”

Niall had shrugged his navy blue peacoat of his shoulders, draping it over the backrest of the worn recliner that was perpendicular to the couch she was currently inhabiting. He’d arched his eyebrows challengingly. “Obviously there has to be a way ‘cause I never lose. And especially never to Mitch and his shitty hand-eye coordination.”

Y/N had set down her mug in the small hole created by her crossed legs, the warmth of the drink radiating through the ceramic cup and seeping through her cloud-patterned pajama pants, heating her inner thighs soothingly. Her expression had then matched up to his, brows raised tauntingly. “Or maybe you were just off your game.”

Niall had slumped into the old recliner, sighing heavily as it creaked and extended. The Irish bloke had snuggled deeper into the cushioning of the seat, absentmindedly wiggling his toes in their rainbow polka-dotted socks before giving his housemate a pointed look. “Maybe you should shut up and go back to watching random people make squash noodles.” 

“Actually, it’s eggplant ravioli.”

“Actually, that sounds like arse.” 

A round of bubbly laughter had belted out of Y/N and it had been contagious, the same type of giggling escaping from Niall’s lips. Then, comfortable silence had fallen over the two as they centered their attention back onto the cooking show. 

Niall hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic. There was no real proper segway into conversations about exes— he didn’t want to upset Y/N with the sudden intrusion on her healing process. But he had made a promise to Harry. 

Aside from the obvious negative factors, mentioning him would also give Niall insight into how she was currently feeling about the entire situation. He’d be able to accurately gauge what her emotions had resolved on the matter and therefore be able to give Harry a solid response on whether he had any chance left for reconciliation. He’d be able to confidently tell him whether hanging on was worth it or if letting go was the best choice. 

Though Niall and Y/N had been living together for almost two months, she hadn’t started opening up to him fully about the breakup until three weeks in. And even with the whole story laid out bare for him to examine, Y/N shared very little of her mending path with him until they were five weeks in. For a while, her version of “opening up” was simply telling him what had occurred and he’d had to fill in the rest of the mental and emotional blanks himself. 

It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that she had been feeling like utter shit right after it happened— insecurity was awfully present as well as the haunting weight of thinking she wasn’t enough. Though Harry had put those worries to rest the day they had separated, they still lingered in her subconscious, constantly poking and prodding and picking at the membrane of recovery she had developed around her heart.

Y/N had felt numb for days after she had ended things. Boiling anger had created a buffer for the pain that was dwelling just under the surface and it had powered her for about three weeks. Then, at four in the morning on a random Thursday, her real emotions had burst through the fine cracks that had been webbing themselves into that unstable wall of rage. 

She’d had a dream about him that was actually a memory. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the scene as it had been one of many alike— they had been cuddling on the couch. But for some reason, it cracked something inside her. 

It had been scarily vivid to the point where she could feel the ridges of Harry’s finger pads tenderly passing over the skin of her exposed arm as she had laid between his legs, her head nestled into his strong chest, ear drums thumping with the sound of his relaxed heartbeat. She could feel his breathing, pectoral muscles rising and falling with penetrating inhales that had fallen into rhythm with her own. There had been faint movement above her and a sudden warmth had erupted across her forehead, his lips flushing caringly between her brows. The heated glow had washed down her temples and nose like syrup, vignetting her mind with a feathery, sleepy haze. It dripped over her tingling cheeks and buzzing ears, running down her neck and infusing into her chest, calming her from the inside out. He had whispered something unintelligible against her skin, his deep voice warbled as if he was talking underwater. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the mellow, pleasant tone of his voice was enough to lull her. She had never felt happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace than at that moment. 

Harry had always been the one factor that could drown out the static of her troubles with the simplest caress of his touch. He could make any problem sink away just by cupping her jaw and thumbing over her cheekbones. Could make the end of the world creak to a stop just by knitting his mouth to her’s. Could melt away any obstacle by brushing his palm over the dip of her spine. He had always been there, and at the time, it had felt like he always would be. Through that assured remedy of relief, she had been able to live her life one step at a time, bracing even the worst moments with a clear mind and strengthened energy, all because he stood behind her— with his warm hands and consoling aura— every inch of the way. 

Y/N didn’t have that anymore and though she pushed it down and claimed it didn’t phase her, she was falling apart inside. 

It was only a matter of time before it came rushing out all at once. 

She had jerked awake from the dream as if she’d been stabbed, face wet with tears, her pillowcase dampened to the point where she would have to replace it. The breakdown that followed hadn’t included any screaming or slamming or stomping; it had been quiet and concise, much like Harry’s on the day she had left. 

She’d laid on her side, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees to her chest, drawing into her body as if it could keep all of her feelings from spilling out. Heavy tears had swelled her already bloodshot eyes, her entire face stinging as fresh sheens of water washed down the dried saltiness of the ones prior. Her nose had run so badly she’d had to resort to using an old t-shirt as a tissue. The sounds that had escaped her were low and broken— cracked, stuttery whimpers with no real words behind them. The noises were just another outlet for the aching to seep out; her eyes just weren’t enough. 

Her back had hunched over as she constricted into herself even further, burying her face into her sopping pillow, feeling hot tears soak into the saturated fabric. She could barely breathe that way and it helped calm her down some— no air meant no sobbing. No sobbing meant she was on the way to picking the pieces back up to put herself together again.

It took her awhile to come to her bearings. Her body had stopped shaking but the tears didn’t seem to want to go away. It irritated her that she couldn’t control this— she hated not being able to do anything other than just drown in it. 

Without meaning to, she had released a gut-wrenching growl of frustration that tapered off into another round of heart-breaking sobbing. Her stomach throbbed, the pain so deep it was almost palpable. 

Y/N had hoped the pillow would muffle it enough not to wake Niall, unaware that he was already up. He’d awoken on his own, making a trip to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He’d been sipping at it slowly, mind still stuck in a meaningless dream, when the sudden noise had echoed down the hall that led to Y/N’s room. 

Niall rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, irises grey with sleep. He had blinked a few times, downing the rest of his water and setting the glass down carefully onto the marble counter, trying to limit any sound interference as his ears strained to listen for any more crying. He had wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining it in a half-unconscious stupor. 

But no, it was very much real. If he focused enough, he could just barely hear the soft sobbing coming from his friend’s bedroom. He had a good guess on what it was about.

He’d stood still for a moment, mulling over what he should do. His first instinct had been to go in and comfort her, but with more thought, he wondered if it would be better not to meddle in her grieving out of respect for her privacy. He knows that if he were crying over a bad breakup, he’d want to be left alone. But he also knows that shouldering a burden like the one she’d faced could put anyone in a really dark place; he wasn’t just going to stand around and let her crash and burn. 

Niall had wandered down the corridor attentively, footsteps light as to not startle Y/N. He’d turned to knob to the door with immense care, pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking in. 

The crying had stopped abruptly, which gave away that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see much in the dark room— the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains didn’t do much for the fact that he was lacking his glasses— but he could see the silhouette of Y/N’s body curled up under the duvet, trembling ever so slightly with the effort of keeping in her sobbing. 

Her housemate had cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel in his dormant voice, as well as to fully alert her of his presence. His words had still come out in a raspy croak, but at least they were understandable. “You alright in here?” 

Y/N had sniffled feverishly, desperate to put out a collected facade. She hated when people saw her so vulnerable without her anticipating it. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.” 

Her voice had cracked near the end of her response, giving away that she wasn’t good at all. The air had been silent for a moment, then Niall’s muddled footsteps thudded against the thick carpet.

Y/N could feel him standing behind her, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, the soft scent of his ocean-scented deodorant tickling her itching nose. “Are you sure?”

There had been no response other than the comforter tightening around her frame. Her hair was splayed across her face in a wild, matted mess, keeping him from being able to read her features. 

Niall had sighed heavily and then the bed had dipped with his weight, sheets shifting and springs squeaking as he settled into place beside her, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. 

More silence followed, Y/N refusing to budge. She hadn’t wanted to drag him into this considering he was still friends with Harry; she didn’t want to split him down the middle or force him to take care of her alongside her ex. She knew Niall too well, certain that he had been offering help to Harry, too. She’d heard him answer the array of drunken phone calls on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to deal with more trauma. She’d heard him leaving the house at unintelligible hours only to return smelling like Harry’s favorite vanilla cinnamon candle. She’d even found one of Harry’s t-shirts (which she had gotten him herself) in the laundry basket, which had probably been lent to Niall after an alcohol-related accident. 

Niall was too kind for his own good— too caring. Y/N had learned a lot about him in the time they had lived together and the one characteristic that stood out more than anything was his savior complex— his default setting to provide love and assurance to anyone that needed it, no matter the stress it put on himself. She didn’t want to take unfair advantage of that. 

Her friend’s voice had torn her out of her guilt trip, loaded with adamant concern. “Y/N, I’m not leaving this room until I know you’re genuinely better so stop being stubborn and let me help.” 

She’d jerked suddenly when she felt his large hand coast up her back. His touch was gentle and nurturing, squeezing her shoulder expectantly. It wasn’t hard for her to let go into him. 

Y/N had turned towards Niall, hand ducking out from beneath the duvet cocoon she’d swaddled herself in, moving her hair out of her splotchy face. Their eyes had locked and she’d immediately felt the remaining anguish flush out of her system. 

The look on his face was so kind and protective and it made her feel safer than she had in the last couple of weeks. Even in the limited lighting, she could see his eyes were glossy with the genuine desire to help her heal, inviting her to share her problems with him, silently promising that they could shoulder the weight of it together. She didn’t have to fight this on her own. 

Y/N had spent the rest of the night in Niall’s arms, crying into his chest and utterly drenching his Eagles t-shirt, though he didn’t complain once. He had kept his lips pressed to the top of her head, running his warm palm up and down her shuddering back and telling her that she shouldn’t bottle up her feelings— that it didn’t make her weak to show them, that openly sorting through them with someone else would make it less scary, and most importantly, that it was “okay not to be okay all the time.” 

For the next month or so, Y/N and Niall’s heart-to-hearts had been a real breakthrough for her. All of her undealt fear and self-doubt no longer badgered her anymore— it was almost all gone. She hadn’t felt this emotionally liberated since before the split and she could feel the shards of her heart welding themselves back together, ushering her into a more healthy, serene state of mind. She was on the road to her old self again and the relief it brought was otherworldly. 

It could be seen physically, too. The bags under her eyes had faded and her face carried a certain rejuvenated glow that it had lacked for weeks. Her smile and laughter were buoyant and loud again, not hindered by any inner conflict anymore whatsoever. When she went out with her friends, she didn’t find herself mentally checking out in the middle of conversations or movies or drinks like she had plenty of times before. She actively participated and engaged in events instead of just going through the motions and it felt so fucking good to get a taste of actual joy for the first time in so long. Things were looking up, and though she still had that hole in her chest that only Harry could fill, she was learning to deal with it in a beneficial and independent manner. It was okay not to be okay all the time. 

///

All of these instances had scattered across Niall’s eyes, whirling around in his skull as he sat back in the old recliner, trying to decide if he should pass on Harry’s bowling alley message onto Y/N. He knew she was doing way better, but he didn’t know if hearing from Harry would break her all over again. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want the sheer sound of his name to send her into a self-destructive spiral for the rest of her life— she had to learn to cope with him being mentioned regularly because it was bound to start happening again. People couldn’t walk on eggshells around both of them forever. 

And Niall also needed to know where she stood on her relationship to the British boy— whether she was willing to give it another shot or whether it was best to tell Harry to move on completely. They were adults, after all, so questions needed to be answered and ties needed to be either tightened or severed for good.

“Harry was there.” 

“I know, Niall. That’s the reason I wasn’t.” 

Her tone had taken him by surprise. It had been jokeful and amused, holding no obvious resentment he could detect. It’d been a good start to the Ex Talk, if Niall had ever seen one, as long as it didn’t turn into her using humor as a deflecting mechanism. 

“He asked about you.”

Y/N’s hands had tightened around her mug, crossed legs shifting her weight. She had broken away from the television screen, meeting Niall’s cautiously hesitant gaze. Her eyes had held an emotion that he couldn’t quite place— it was mostly blank, but it held a smidge of something he could only think to refer to as pained curiosity. 

When she’d spoken again, it had been soft and fragile. “What’d he say?” 

Niall had leaned forward in his seat, elbows propping onto his parted knees as his fingers sifted together, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice had been as cautious and hesitant as the look in his sky blue irises. “He said to tell you that he misses you and that he’s terribly sorry. That he’d do anything to earn your trust again, that a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t think about you, and that he loves you so much ‘to the point where it’s pathetic.’ His exact words.” 

Y/N had been quiet for a while afterward, the TV droning on in the background with chefs running around kitchens, cursing about food burning and incorrect ingredients. Niall hadn’t pushed her on an answer; he’d simply sat back with his hands flat across his belly, allowing her all the time she needed to process the speech. 

When she finally spoke up again, her voice had been taut, strained by the heaviness of the message she’d received. “Anything else?”

Niall had intentionally left the lightest part of the conversation for the end, hoping it would provide her with some form of ease, as minimal as it would be. “Yeah, he said you left your Sherpa jumper at his place and was wondering if you wanted it back. If I were you, I’d say yes. Fleece sweaters are fuck-you-in-the-arse expensive.” 

His comment had the intended affect, his heart fluttering with relief as he watched Y/N’s face break into a huge grin, eyes crinkling as airy laughter bounced all around her. Some of the tension in her body remained, but most of it had dissipated out. A fraction is better than none. 

Y/N had managed to talk through her giggles. “Yeah, I think I would like my sweater back, actually.” 

“Great!” Niall had clapped his hands together once, head wobbling in a jerky shake for silly emphasis. He’d pushed his palms against the armrests of the recliner, catapulting himself onto his feet and pointing at Y/N playfully. “I’ll get that sorted for you, then. Now, if you need me, I’m gonna be in my room, passed out on my bed for the next twelve hours, neck-deep in a beer coma. Feel free to check if I’m breathing every now and then, yeah? Got a dentist appointment next week that I’d hate to be dead for.” 

Y/N had sat on Harry’s words for the next week or so. They hadn’t spurred her into a meltdown (as she’s sure Niall had worried they would), but they did loiter in the back of her mind, keeping her awake past appropriate hours by playing her heart strings like a violin. 

There was one part of the message specifically that took up a chunk of her sleep more than the others, scattering inside her head and running along the crevices of her brain, the meaning behind it stirring the pit of her stomach into a hollowed frenzy: I love you so much to the point where it’s pathetic.

That one measly sentence carried so much baggage to unpack.

Harry’s choice of words were transparent on how he was dealing in the aftermath of the split. 

Y/N knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was— it had been obvious in the way he had put her on a pedestal for the entirety of their relationship, constantly showering her with all different types of affection to let her know how much he cherished her. It ranged from the simplest gestures— like keeping her favorite chocolates stocked inside the pantry at all times— to extravagant actions— like randomly buying her an expensive necklace she’d stared at for a bit too long at the mall. He was always aware of her, always going out of his way to show her how much he loved her, and she had never felt more appreciated than when she was with him. 

When it came to expressing that love verbally, Harry only ever connected it to words that carried positive connotations. Words like, “truly,” “madly,” “deeply,” “immensely,” “entirely,” and “wholeheartedly.” He wanted her to know that when he thought of her, any negativity was immediately expelled from his mind; she could always make him happy, no matter what. 

This being taken into consideration, one can understand why Y/N had been utterly baffled when Niall had told her that he’d referred to his love for her as “pathetic.” It gave her insight into just how hard he was taking the breakup— hard enough to the point where he was so desperate to get her back that he felt pathetic. This told her that he loved her so much he was willing to admit that it was sad and pitiful, especially since he was a grown man, and especially because they’d been split for just over two months. That span of time is long enough for a person to at least start moving on; long enough for someone to sever themselves from that stage of hopelessly clinging to what once was and to look forward to what the future could bring. 

But instead, Harry had allowed himself to regress back into a lapse of needy pining, pleading with Niall— and in public, no less— to tell her that he missed her so much it was embarrassing; that he cared for her to the extent that it was humiliating; that he loved her to the point where it was miserable. He wanted her to know that what he had done had been tearing at him nonstop since it happened, that it would likely haunt him for years to come, and that he would never forgive himself for it. 

All of these confessions weren’t any different than what he had told her the day they had broken up— they were the same bullets he’d hit when he was sitting before her, teary-eyed and distressed, begging her to give him another chance. However, for a reason unbeknownst to her, they penetrated deeper this time, slamming her square in the chest like someone had punched through her ribs, squeezing her heart with their fist.

Maybe it was the fact that she had finally let go of the splintering anger she’d been clutching onto from that day, which had likely blinded her from absorbing the rawness behind Harry’s apology. Maybe it was that she’d had weeks to work through all of her jumbled emotions, finally untangling herself from the bitterness that had been clouding her mind for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just the simple notion that she fucking missed him— missed him more than her pride would ever let her admit. 

Missed the way his nose would scrunch up in distaste when he didn’t agree with something, the way the edges of his eyes would wrinkle when he smiled, missed his boyish giggling and how it would go up in pitch when he laughed too hard. She missed the way his dimples would carve into his cheeks when he smirked, the way the little mole under the left corner of his lips would jolt with the slightest motion of his mouth, and the way his large, warm hands would feel as he would knot their fingers together, his thumb caressing over the tops of her knuckles. 

Y/N missed the way her head would sink into his chest when she would hug him, his arms cradling her against his body while he played with the ends of her hair. She missed the small group of freckles at the base of his neck— missed tracing them with her lips while he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into spontaneous giggles at the feathery sensation. She missed the way he smelled, like mandarin shampoo and musky, spiced deodorant and his ocean salt cologne and that stupid fucking candle.

Y/N had remained on the fence for a few days about what to do, mentally jotting down the pros and cons of reaching out to Harry to make amends. The defining moment had been the day she’d gotten her sweater back. 

///

Niall had gone out with Harry to see a movie, returning home with the Sherpa jumper hung across one of his forearms, tucked into his elbow. He’d held it out for her between his thumbs and index fingers, flapping it back and forth triumphantly, eyebrows arched with dramatic glee as a huge goofy grin buckled his cheeks. “Look at what we have here, then!” 

He’d tossed it towards her on his way to the kitchen, belting out a cocky, “You’re welcome!” over his shoulder before disappearing behind the archway. 

The minute Y/N had caught the hoodie in her arms, the scent hit her like a bus. It invaded her nostrils without permission, sending a sharp ache through her chest. 

It was perfectly faint since Harry’s smell never tended to be overpowering— he had a very light hand when it came to cologne, well aware that too much could be agitating. That being said, the brand he used was potent even when dispensed in small amounts, so it’s salty sea aroma usually lasted through a couple of washes. He had probably nonchalantly chucked the jumper into the laundry with his clothes, which had resulted in the smell being strung through every single thread of the fabric. 

Beneath the initial layer of his cologne laid the softer scent of the vanilla cinnamon candle that she knew too well. It was tender and homey, just the right ratio of sugar and spice, its cozy undercurrent enveloping her in familiarity. 

It launched her into a round of fleeting flashbacks. 

The fractions in time consisted of a winter day spent snuggled on the sofa under thick blankets, half-empty mugs of hot cocoa discarded on the coffee table and a Netflix show drawling on aimlessly in the background. Not a single soul had paid attention to the screen; Y/N was too busy straddling Harry’s lap, planting wet, sloppy kisses down his throat as he dangled his head over the side of the armrest, hands gripping her hips needily as she rocked against the bulge in his sweatpants, a dreamy, pleasure-drunken smile adorning his swollen lips. Low hisses and weak whimpers had resonated from deep in his chest, rolling off his tongue as his mouth had absentmindedly fallen open at the warmth growing between her thighs. Her fingers had twisted into the loose curls along the back of his skull while she’d gasped his name all breathy and whiney along the underside of his jaw, working herself against him at a desperate pace, his palms trailing underneath her pajama bottoms to grope at her ass. 

Harry’s voice had been distant and echoey in the memory, but it made her cheeks sizzle nonetheless. “God, I love you so fucking much. Could spend the rest of my life between your thighs...Could spend the rest of it anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

Another flashback had shuffled forward like a deck of cards. This one was of a foggy, rainy evening spent napping soundly in their bed, limbs tangled messily with their bodies half-naked, her heated lips pressed to the lulled pulse that throbbed beneath Harry’s flushed neck. His hand had been petting over her mussed up hair, mouth pressed lovingly to the ridges between her brows, smoothing them out in order to defuse whatever was troubling her in her dreams. 

She’d awoken, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep, her mind partially conscious as she had taken in a long inhale, blowing it out through her nose. Harry had run the pad of his thumb over her lashes gently, helping her get rid of the blurriness that had taken her under. She had blinked up at him drowsily, a watery smile spreading her buzzing lips. Harry hadn’t said a single word and he didn’t have to— he’d just stared down at her over the tops of his lightly colored cheeks, the right edge of his mouth flicking upwards in endearment, his bright jade irises glossy with fondness. He didn’t have to say a single word because his expression silently told her everything she needed to know. 

Y/N had snapped out of the memories in the blink of an eye, a sudden tickling sensation bristling down her cheeks. She’d reached up to touch her face in confusion, the tips of her fingers coming back wet, the water glinting cruelly under the dim lighting of the living room. Her brows had furrowed in objection, both at her tears and at being so abruptly yanked out of moments in her life when she had been the happiest. Her body reacted out of instinct, desperately searching for a trace of him to clasp onto, her hands fumbling to bring the flouncy material of the sweater to her nose. 

She’d taken a saturated breath in, the pleasant odor hugging her trembling frame and kissing her heart. The tears had then started flowing freely across her waterline and down the bridge of her nose. They had seeped into the fleece hoodie and she’d immediately jerked back from it, not wanting the treasured item to suffer the same fate as most of her pillowcases. She didn’t want to do anything that would make her have to wash it— she refused to let the comforting aroma leave her. 

Y/N spent the next three days in that jumper, only taking it off to shower. She wore it religiously, taking it to work, to the superstore when she went grocery shopping with Niall, to lunch with a friend, to a doctor's appointment she barely paid attention to, and even to bed. In the span of seventy-two hours, she had developed an addiction to the scent that was woven into the fluffy article of clothing, needing to have it around her at all times in order to function properly. 

It was sad, really. It was just a smell and she knew it would eventually fade away, but she just couldn’t help herself from wanting to be wrapped in it every second of the day. It reminded her of a time in her life when everything seemed flawless— where there wasn’t a gaping hole in the center of her chest that could only be filled by the one person who had accidentally hurt her beyond compare. 

Y/N couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the flood of memories that the stupid hoodie had fished out from the corner of her subconscious, where she had shoved them with the intent of never looking back. They loitered her dreams, broadcasting over the inside of her eyelids for hours on end, dissolving away when her alarm blared beside her ear, leaving her with a hollow feeling toiling at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how long she could deal with it, but her sanity was starting to wear thin, cautioning her that she had to do something or else she’d go absolutely mad. 

On the night of the fourth day, Y/N finally cracked. 

///

Two months and thirteen days. 

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up. 

It is currently 11:43 PM, meaning that in a meer seventeen minutes, it would be two months and fourteen days since the split. 

Harry is laying in bed, as far away from his digital clock as possible, watching a random Christmas movie that Netflix had recommended, one hand buried in a bowl of kettle corn that he’d already refilled twice as the other holds his phone an acceptable distance above his face. 

The movie is cliche, if he’s being honest; something about Santa Claus dying and passing on the torch to his dead-beat son that didn’t want it, so it ended up going to his overly-perky younger sister instead. The twist was supposed to be that a woman had never been Santa Claus, but he could see that ending coming from a mile away, what with her natural ability to get along with kids and the fact that she dressed like a literal Elf on the Shelf. It’s heart-warming in the way that all Christmas films are and it had the witty humor one would expect it to, alongside a cute furry animal sidekick that people couldn’t help falling in love with. 

But it just didn’t really impress him. The message is sweet, the execution could’ve been better. 

Yet, he only deemed it fair that he finish the movie. He’s already three-fourths of the way done and though the intended surprise was obvious, he might as well see it through. 

In the middle of the climax scene where the young woman was putting on the Santa suit for the first time, his phone dings with a chime he hadn’t heard in too long— two months, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be exact. 

Harry had been so startled he’d dropped his phone on his face.

“Ow! Fucking hell!” 

He sits up in one quick, stiff motion, the hand knuckle-deep in the popcorn bowl flying up and knocking the dish upside down, the sticky kernels rolling across his disheveled duvet. The sleek black device falls into his lap, nose pulsing in pain as it had taken most of the heat, his caramel-coated hand rubbing messily along his flannel pajama pants to try and get rid of the stickiness. He then pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to stifle some of the stinging, bumbling to get his smartphone into the palm of his clean hand. 

The screen lights up with a text message and Harry blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it in some type of pain-induced hallucination. 

But no, the message is very much real and it’s authenticity sends him into a dull stupor for a minute. He comes back to when the phone vibrates with another ring, alerting him for the second and last time that the person he wanted to talk to the most had actually reached out to him; it was in his best interest not to keep her waiting.

Y/N: Hey, are you free to talk tomorrow?

#siac #Sharing Isn’t Always Caring #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles angst #angst #harry styles fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb

[midnight-lightning]

Of fanboys and soldiers

Summary: A mission goes horribly wrong and now Bucky’s life is in your hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: blood, mention of surgery, Angst, Fluff

"Look, who I found outside!" Natasha was walking into the kitchen, beside her a slightly nervous grinning Peter Parker, who's eyes strangely wandered off and on like he was searching for something. "Hello, Miss - erm Y/N," he stuttered, giving you a shy smile, then he seemed trying to find a position to stand in, not wanting to appear awkward- which he managed without real success. This boy was just adorable. You tried your best to hide your amusement behind a polite smile and rather pointed at the table you were sitting at, inviting him to join you. Maybe some company would be nice. "Want a pancake?" Peter's eyes brightened up for a second when he saw all the food in front of him, pancakes, fruits, yoghurts, fresh bread... everything that was needed to feed the stomachs of several avengers who lived in this - Tony's - house or at least all of them who were at home at this time. "Oh, no, no I probably shouldn't," he declined while he bashfully scratched the back of his head. "Kid, you're family. Now sit down and eat," you insisted and Peter - obviously touched by being called family - tentatively decided to join you at the breakfast table. Meanwhile Natasha- who had watched this scenario with obvious entertainment- pushed herself off the frame of the door and walked out. "Enjoy your meal, kids!" Kids? Excuse me? You leaned back in your seat to see her properly in the hallway before you shouted dryly, "We will! So sad you can't join us!" Poor Nat had to set out for a meeting together with Tony; it involved something about politics, Avengers something like that. Boring stuff. But the second she turned her head back to you, you flipped your chair straight again to avoid receiving any ... not very nice things. Or very hard things. And Nat could aim. Too good. On the other side of the table you noticed that Peter suddenly seemed more relaxed and less nervous now. He still hadn't touched any food, though. You squeezed your eyes in suspicion. "Peter Parker, are YOU nervous because of Natasha?" Poor boy didn't have to say anything, his shocked face and slightly reddened cheeks told everything. "Me? No, of course not! I mean... she's a little ... intimidating. You know what I mean? N-Not in a mean way but- sorry," he stuttered looking down on his plate. "Why are you laughing?" Immediately you stopped, not wanting to hurt his feelings or anything, nor to get blustered over by Tony afterwards for insulting his son. Besides you really didn't wanna see him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Kid. It's just - never mind." You watched him taking a big bite of his chocolate pancake and then humming in enjoyment. Speaking of Tony... "You know your Da- ugh Tony isn't here today, right?"

You made a face. It had already been so common within you Avengers that Tony and him were practically considered father and son that some slippers like that happened sometimes. Though you knew Tony had stopped bothering after a time, you didn't know how Peter would react to hear your inside nicknames for them. Whether he noticed or not he didn't show it, instead Peter lowered his third pancake and looked again kind of embarrassed. "I was - erm actually hoping I would see Bucky."

You lift a brow in surprise. "Bucky?" Have they ever even really met? But nonetheless he and Steve were on a mission in Canada right now and will not return in the next days. "Yeah, I feel like I need to apologize to him. You know for what happened at the airport." Oh. Yes. There they certainly did meet. Your heart swelled up at his statement and you realized there couldn't be any purer angel on earth than him. "Oh, Pete," you sighted. "You really do have a heart of gold, you know that? But I'm sure he never took offense at any of this,” you reassured him. "You see, he was rather shocked at how young you had been." "Wait, he has actually talked about me?" Peter seemed genuinely shocked about it, after literally being Tony's secret ace up his sleeve and kicking their asses all the way. He was seriously surprised people talked about him.

"Ohmygodthatssocool!" He chattered and you let out an amused laugh at his enthusiasm. We've found a fan boy!

If only Buck could hear this right now; See that there are so many people out there who cherished and admired him. People beside you and his best friends.

"Like the winter soldier! Or no, I shouldn't call him like that, he’s more like the white wolf! Bucky Barnes! I would literally-" "QUICK! WE NEED HELP!" Peter's speech was abruptly interrupted by loud voices coming from the entrance.

Alarmed you immediately stormed out of the kitchen, leaving knocked over chairs and dishes behind. You didn’t feel the need to be careful right now because it had been clearly Steve’s voice shouting for help, who shouldn’t have been here for another two days. Unless something had utterly gone wrong. The first thing you noticed, was the huge amount of blood covering up the ground on which Steve stood. The man himself looked like shit. Beaten up with bruises and even burns all over his body.

But leaned on his shoulder, was Bucky and he didn’t even look alive anymore.

Barely audible his name escaped your lips, while your heart stopped beating.

Within a second you were next to him, cupping his face in your hands only to wince at how cold the skin beneath your fingers felt.

Your eyes flickered over his pale skin, over his slightly turning blue lips and his eyes which twitched around the room, not focusing on anything. He was barely even conscious.

His face too was beaten up and burnt, a piece of his eyebrow was missing. But the worst was definitely the bullet wound in his abdomen that made him lose too much blood right now. It was everywhere.

Oh god all this blood.

You were losing your mind.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry

Y/N, calm down. You got this. He needs you.

This all happened within the few seconds you needed to get a grip on yourself.

With a pounding heart you took a deep breath while switching in your professional Doctor mode.

“What happened?” You asked Steve while you slipped to Bucky’s other side so the both of you could carry Bucky into the treatment room.

“We were already on our way back home, thinking we already got everything covered,” Steve started to explain, sounding out of breath. “When they literally appeared out of nowhere. God, everything went so fast then. They were so many. And suddenly they were shotguns and explosions everywhere. And Bucky, this idiot, felt the need to safe me from a bullet.”

Yes, that sounded like the Bucky you knew, always ready to sacrifice himself for people he cared for.

“The hospital was too far away, didn’t want to take the risk, so I brought him back here. I just didn’t know If he … if he would make it any longer.”

You nodded, taking the information in. “He will. He will, Steve.” You answered firmly, but you weren’t sure if you were convincing him or rather yourself.

Carefully the both of you placed Bucky on the treatment table and instantly you reached for the nearest towel you could find. You ripped open his shirt to have a better look at the bullet wound and enough room to apply pressure to ease the blood flow.

Bucky groaned out of pain, making you wince. “I’m so sorry, Buck, but I have to do this.”

Suddenly his hand grasped your wrist.

You froze.

“Y/N?” Barely even a whisper, but you still heard him. His eyelids flattered, struggling to stay awake.

A little relief washed over you face, hearing his voice. At least he had still the strength to talk.  

Softly you put his hand back on his chest. “Shh, save your strength, alright? I need you to hold on, love.”

When you looked up you noticed that Bruce had already arrived in the room, clearly shocked at the view. Still, once he got a picture out of the whole situation he went over to you and without a further question just took a new towel and kept applying pressure on Bucky’s wound instead.

That gave you the time you needed to gather every tool you will need for the small operation. Thereby you lifted your head to Steve and Peter who were watching the scenery with both fear and concern. While Steve looked a bit more stabled Peter turned alarmingly pale himself. He shouldn’t be seeing that right now.

“Steve? Are you in a stable condition right now? Or do you have a serious inju-“

The Captain immediately shook his head. “No, no I’m fine. Please, Bucky is more important in this moment.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering to Peter for a second. “Pete, I need you to leave this room. I don’t want you to witness this.”

The poor boy seemed to be in quite a shock but Steve put his arm around his shoulder and gave you a forced smile. “I’ve got this, Y/N.”

With a last, worried look to his best friend, he and Peter left the room, leaving you and Barnes alone.  

You moved the table with the tools next to where Bucky lay, reaching for the Anesthetic injection when you noticed the blood on your hands.

His blood.

It was everywhere.

His blood.

He was dying.

You could lose him.

His blood.

 Suddenly you felt warm hands covering your trembling fingers, startling you but bringing your mind back to earth. Bruce gave you a small smile but nodded sternly and internally you just wanted to slap yourself. Yes, he would die if you keep sitting here! You had done this over a thousand time, get a grip, Y/N!

But it just never had been Bucky’s life you needed to safe…

Bruce gave you a sympathetic but reassuring smile, before he gently took the syringe out of your hand. While he injected it to Bucky you took the time to prepare everything – yourself included - for what was coming.

“You got this?”

You nodded, not saying anything.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next few hours you could easily call the worst of your life.

Bucky’s pulse had become even weaker, his vitals worse. His whole life was literally in your hands. You didn’t dare to imagine what would happen if his heart would just stop beating, you couldn’t because then you would start to lose your mind and then you would have a breakdown and then no one would be there to safe him.

So you gave your best in removing the bullet out of his body, stopping the bleeding, sewing the wound.

You and Bruce had done everything you could possibly do.

Now the wound was fully treated and bandaged. Bucky’s face was cleaned, the burns creamed.

You were exhausted and drained on a new level, but by god, you couldn’t let yourself sleep right now. You weren’t even able too.

Not when Bucky, your Bucky was lying here, barely having escaped death.

Bruce had gone to bed a couple of hours ago, of course only after he had helped to take Bucky over to his room. Thanks to the serum in Buck’s blood, which ensured that he didn’t need any infusions, he could lay vacantly and comfortable in his bed.  

You sat next to him on a chair, watching his peacefully resting face. Fondly you brushed some hair out of his face.

HE had finally gained a little more colour and even his heart rate was normal again, giving you hope that he’ll finally be awake soon.

“Please, come back to me,” you whispered while you gently brought his hand up to you lips, putting a soft kiss on it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

You must have felt asleep because the next thing you knew Steve was entering the room, a frown on his face.

“Bucky is stable now,” you murmured still half asleep, trying to hide the yawn that escaped you.

Steve chuckled. “Yes, I got it the other twenty times you’ve said that today, too. I’m more concerned for you, Y/N.”

“Me? But how are you feeling? I see Bruce had done a good job on your own injuries.”

“Don’t try to change the topic. You know what? You go and get some deserved sleep, while I watch over him, alright?”

“But if anything happens- “you protested.

“I’ll make sure to call you,” Steve promised, a soft smile on his lips, before he shooed you out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep. Not when he wasn’t in reach anymore.

So you paced around the rooms, cleaning anything that was in sight, just to keep your thoughts from the endless racing ‘what ifs’. Friday updated you with every small information or change or anything that concerned Bucky’s health.

When you entered the kitchen you were surprised to find Peter was still here, eating Tony’s inventories of his favourite cookies. This time it was you who joined him.

Apparently he couldn’t sleep either so the next few hours you let yourself get distracted by Peter’s entertaining stories and little jokes, until the end of Steve’s shift drew to a close.

Carefully, not wanting to make any loud noises you opened the door to Bucky’s and yours shared room, Peter who wanted to visit Bucky too, was right behind you.

The early morning sunshine shined through the window right on Bucky’s peaceful features. It made him look like an angel. Though it would be beautiful any other time, now it just made your heart clench.  

With a very exhausted face Steve stood up from the chair he was sitting at and ran his hand through his messy hair, while he still managed to give you a hopeful smile.

“How is he?” You asked him, while you slowly approached Bucky’s bed.

Steve cleared his throat. “His vitals are still fine. Bruce came a couple of hours ago to take a few tests. Everything looked good.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I thought you promised me…” You turned around to the Captain reproachfully and a little hurt but he just looked slightly guilty.

“Y/N, have you seen yourself? I wanted to let you sleep at least for a while.”

Peter, who noticed the uprising tension between you caused by the lack of sleep, immediately stepped in. “But when’s he gonna wake up?”

“I don’t know, Pete.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around your chest.

“But- But it’s a when, right? Not an if?”

“Of course, Pete, I-“

“How long are you guys going to stand around my bed like a bunch of creepers?”

You whirled around. “Bucky...”

There he was… even though he just woke up he already had this amused glint in his blue eyes, watching you all.

With a racing heart you knelt down on the ground in front of where he lay. While you gently put a hand on his forehead to see if his fever vanished you tried to hold your tears back. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky used his hand to put it on top of your own before he grinned weakly. “Well, my eyebrow hurt.”

You chuckled and managed a teary laugh. “Oh? Just your eyebrow?”

Considering there was nearly nothing left of his right eyebrow…

You moved a little as Steve knelt down beside you, giving a little space. “You gave me quite a fright there, pal.” He stated, looking just as relived as you felt. “You know I’ve had everything under control.”

Bucky laughed at this, clearly not believing anything. “Yeah sure. I’ve hear this one over 70 years ago, too, you know.”

Suddenly his eyes locked on something behind you and it was a moment of realization lasting only a split second. When you turned around to see what had caught his attention you noticed Peter who had appeared in the door frame, looking a little bit embarrassed by all the eyes laying on him.

“Surprised to see you here, Spider kid,” Bucky said to which Peter’s eyes widened.

“You- you do really remember me?”

“How couldn’t I? Your attack was quite surprising at the airport. With those sticky ...” Bucky tried to  intimate peter’s movement, struggling for words.

“Nets. Spider nets,” Peter explained with an excited and proud grin. 

“You made them yourself?”

You looked over to Steve who had been watching their conversation in delight and the both of you shared an amused grin about the fan boy. You decided to give them turning friends a little space.

“You’ll be okay?” you mouthed and when Bucky gave you a reassuring nod you and Steve left the room for a while.

You went to the kitchen where you prepared some sandwiches and something to drink for everyone and put them on a tablet.

Steve sat down on a chair at the kitchen isle removing some leftover cookie crumbs. “Did Bruce finally go to bed?”

“Yes, fortunately. Though, I don’t think it will last any longer. He’s Bruce after all.” 

The whole night he had stayed awake taking care of all of you, bringing blankets, food, coffee, treating Bucky… He was a real hero.

“And you should go, too, you haven’t really slept in more than 30 hours,” he said in a stern tone.

“Take a sandwich, Steve.”

“And I know you weren’t sleeping during my shift!” He protested but took the sandwich nevertheless.

You held both your hands up in defense. “Alright, alright! You got me there. Let me just- “A pleading look to the door that lead to Bucky’s room and he understood.

“Yeah, yeah, sure go ahead but I’m watching you.”

With raised eyebrows but still smiling you made your way over to Bucky again, though not without shouting over your shoulder, “You’re not my Dad, Steve!”

You walk in on Peter and Bucky laughing about something; Peter still with a bright, joyful grin on his face. Delighted for this conversation with his hero.

With a smile on your lips you leant against the doorframe and watched the scenery. Bucky was obviously still weak and tired yet you could still see the amusement in his eyes. It meant a lot for him that this boy admired him. While there’s certainly a lot of respect from Peter’s side, there’s not a bit of fear, just honest curiosity.

As soon as Peter noticed you he said a quick goodbye to Bucky and wished him a good recovery, then he hurried out of the room, leaving the both of you alone.

Bucky meets your eyes and you just stopped, and of course you couldn’t help but admire the loving and tender expression in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey there,” you whispered softly.

“Hi, doll.”

Slowly you made your way to sit on the edge of his bed. “Peter’s an adorable kid, isn’t he?”

A small laugh escaped his lips and made your heart beat double.

“Indeed, he is. I like his spirit.”

A moment of silence occurred in which the both of you just looked at each other.

“You quite scared me there, Buck,” you then stated, not trusting you voice to speak any louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, I didn't expect to return to you this way, either.”

“How are you feeling?” You placed a hand on his right cheek. “And now please be honest.”

Bucky took a deep breath before he closed his eyes and put his own hand on top of yours. “I’m feeling way better than you think, doll. Don’t be concerned.”

You frowned in astonishment. He’s got nerves. “Don’t be concerned? Love, you’ve just been hit by a bullet. You have cuts and bruises and burns all over your body! How can I not be concerned? Why - why are you looking at me like that?”

He was looking at you in a way as if he didn’t hear a word you just said. Bucky just laid there, smiling, while he lifted a hand to your cheek and gently struck it.

“I’ve missed you.”

Bucky moved to sat up halfway and you just opened your mouth to protest to no move or the stitched will reopen, when he was already pulling you in to a soft kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut and as always your whole body and mind said good night.

“Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day,” he murmured in between your lips.

Then don’t stop, was all you wanted to say, but you realized his health was more important right now. So you removed yourself a little and wanted to look reproachfully but honestly you couldn’t help with this man. “You’re still looking rather pale, love, you should stay in bed for a while. I’ll bring you food.”

But the moment you let go of him he pulled you further down again so you were now leaning against his side.

Immediately you protested. “You’re injured, Buck. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m still fit enough for this,” he replied cheeky while laying his arm around you. Snuggling into him, always careful not to hurt him somehow, you were about to close your eyes and just enjoy this moment, when a chuckle made you rip them open again.

Peter stood in the door frame, a mischief grin on his face.

“Oh, and Mr. Bucky?

Your eyebrow looks lit, by he way!”

#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers x you #avengers x reader

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 7: Uncertainty and Exploration

Through starry nights and music lessons, Wanda and Vision rediscover themselves. And begin to discover each other.

Despite the early hour and the fog clouding her brain since she found herself alone in this world, Wanda knows immediately who waits outside her room. Taking a deep breath, she prays for the energy to face this day. She opens the door.

“Good morning.” Her attempt at a smile barely counts, but at least it’s friendly. Anything to soothe her visitor’s nervousness.

“Would you care for a morning beverage?” Vision asks at the exact same moment, his words colliding with hers. He winces, and she’s sure he would blush if he could. “P-pardon me. Good morning.”

Focusing on the mugs in his hands, Vision starts again. “It is customary to consume a heated, caffeinated beverage in the morning. This seems like a practice that would appeal to you, so I have secured two options. I- I am not aware of your preference.” His blue eyes flick to hers. They are skittish, like the eyes of a deer. “Would you prefer green tea or filtered coffee? Or a different product, perhaps?”

“No, no, the coffee is fine.” She wraps her fingers around the warm ceramic and Vision shifts his hand away as soon as she has a secure grip. He is so careful to keep his fingers from brushing against hers. So careful to avoid making contact.

If it were anyone else, Wanda would think it was because of her, a fear of the storm of red that boils just below the surface of her hands. But she has seen inside his head. He is not afraid of her. He is the only one in this building who isn’t.

No, Vision is avoiding human touch, just as he does in the hallways, entering them only when there are fewer people who might brush against him. And the entire time, he keeps his shoulders curled forward, as if to make himself as small as possible.

Why does he avoid even the chance of contact? Why does he fear it so?

Wanda focuses on the mug in her hands, soaking in the heat and the familiar comfort it provides. Steam rises to her nose, but it does not carry the rich, dark scent of fresh coffee. Instead, a burnt and bitter odor greets her. Feeling Vision’s gaze on her, she dares to take a cautious sip.

If Vision made this himself, she knows the first thing they’ll work on.

Wanda’s wrinkled nose must give away her disgust. Vision rushes to assure her, “I have also procured cream and sugar for you to add, if you so wish.” He ducks into the library down the hall, returning with a wooden serving tray.

Wanda pours most of the cream from the little pitcher into her mug, stirring it with the teaspoon he holds out. “Did you get all this yourself?” Her second sip, at least, doesn’t make her cringe. She might have outgrown watered-down coffee years ago, but the cream makes this drink halfway palatable. And if nothing else, the cup will keep her hands warm.

“I retrieved the tray and its implements from the breakfast bar in the dining hall. The teaspoon I selected from the kitchen drawer. The spoons that had been set out for beverage use were not of the proper sort,” Vision explains, expression solemn. “A pot of coffee had already been brewed, but perhaps I should have prepared a new one…” He falls silent, brow furrowed as he watches her sip from the mug.

“It is good,” Wanda lies, and Vision’s shoulders drop in relief. He nods and turns to set the tray down. His golden cape, reaching almost to the floor, ripples around his boots with every step. Wanda follows its lines up his shoulders, frowning at the metal collar joining it to the tight fabric of his suit. None of it looks very comfortable, especially for more than a couple hours.

She looks down into her coffee, idly stirring the pale liquid in slow circles. “You still want my help, yes?” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Vision turn around slowly.

“Yes.” The river of his thoughts speeds up, tumbling and rushing like rapids over rocks. Anxious. About what, exactly?

Wanda realizes her intrusion and pulls back from his mind, refocusing. “Okay. So...” She takes a deep breath. “Um... the outfit. It is fine for fighting and such, but otherwise you might want something more… relaxed?”

Brow furrowing again, Vision peers down at his clothing. “I must always stand ready to defend.” The phrase is flat. Automatic. Scripted, maybe? His eyes meet hers as he speaks his next words urgently, striving to convince her. Or himself. “It is my purpose and honor to defend and serve.”

Did Stark decide that for him? Is it something S.H.I.E.L.D. told him?

Wanda nods slowly. “It is admirable of you to think that. But there is more than one purpose in life. And things change. Always.” Suddenly, she cannot watch him any longer. Staring down into her coffee, she wills her blurred sight to clear. She has cried enough. “And when they do, there is no other option but to adapt.”

Vision watches her solemnly, eyes soft with sympathy.

Wanda takes a deep breath and forces herself to try another smile. “So. Daily clothing.” The mundane topic is awkward and alien on her tongue. There wasn’t much talk in the last few years about anything other than matters of life, death, and survival. The normal and the everyday belong in her memories. In another lifetime.

Nodding thoughtfully, Vision stares past the wall, irises swirling from one direction to the next.

Is he considering his options? Searching the internet, maybe?

“What would you suggest?” he asks.

Wanda purses her lips. Where in the tower could they find extra clothes… There is nothing she can remember seeing during her brief tour, but she remembers little of that first day. We could ask the Captain. She clenches her sweatshirt sleeves in her fists at the thought of venturing into the floors below.

Then suddenly her musings are swept away. Wanda blinks, brain scrambling to comprehend what she sees as Vision’s clothing seems to ripple and shift, both in style and color. Soon, a loose, plain cotton T-shirt and dark jeans drape his tall form. Not a trace of the suit or cape remains.

Her mouth falls open in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“I am equipped with a thin layer of nanobots, easily controlled through a mental-cellular interface. I assume their purpose is the formation of clothing.” He holds his arms out to the side. “Do you think this attire will suffice?”

Wanda frowns. Vision’s old-fashioned, formal speech looks jarring alongside the modern style, and his perfect posture disrupts the loose fit. If anything, he stands even stiffer than when he wore the battle suit.

She tilts her head. “Is it… comfortable for you?”

“It is casual, is it not?”

“But are you comfortable? Do you like it?”

The corner of his mouth curves down. “Not… strictly speaking.”

Wanda nods. “Try something else, then. You will want it to fit you.”

Vision’s irises begin twirling, starting with the opposite direction this time. When he does that, what exactly goes on behind those blue eyes? She’s sorely tempted to look.

A moment later, his clothing shifts again.

Wanda examines the dark gray vest and tie over a long-sleeved white shirt with neatly buttoned cuffs. Pressed charcoal slacks and black dress shoes complete the simple, yet elegant outfit.

Vision looks to her, waiting

Wanda bites her lip. Maybe he should loosen the tie. Then again, he is obviously more comfortable dressed formally. His body language alone speaks loudly to that. She nods once. “This is good.”

“Good,” Vision repeats. She wonders if he’s aware that he mimics her nod and tone almost exactly. “Excellent.”

----------

During those first weeks after Pietro’s death, the intensity of the searing, screaming pain had not surprised Wanda. Neither had the crushing cloud of grief, or the red haze of anger that fogged her mind and numbed her senses during those dark nights she spent alone, hiding in the Bartons’ spare room.

Wanda has been through it all before. She knows loss well.

But now the grip of those feelings has started to fade, and what does surprise her is the boredom. The restless, irritable energy, the listless lack of focus. Every day is just the day before, completely identical in every way. Get up, train, meals, train, sleep.

There is no purpose. No drive. No one to hunt down and make pay for her brother’s death. No revenge to lie awake and plan.

She already ripped out the killer’s heart, but it was too late to save her own.

Not even the intense combat training, progressing as rapidly as she can handle, holds her attention. No matter how hard she throws herself into it, how carefully she blocks out everything but the red in her hands, she cannot lose herself in the movements. All the fighting does is bring the memories of her last battle rushing to the surface. Pietro’s last battle. And when each session finishes, it leaves her fighting to hide her pounding heart and the shaking that spreads from her hands.

There is no forgetting for her. No distraction.

Fortunately, Vision seems to have found some direction, or at least something to fill his time with. He must have read every book in the library on their floor once, if not twice, and frequently he phases through the floor with an armful pilfered from elsewhere in the building. Made-up stories, real stories, textbooks, manuals, encyclopedias, he reads them all. His desire to learn is insatiable.

If only Wanda could muster even half that enthusiasm for something. Anything.

Today, the late afternoon sun seeps through the library’s full-length window, illuminating the book in Vision’s lap. Wanda flips through the channels on the TV in the corner, jaw clenched in frustration.

It is Monday, the fifth (or maybe sixth) afternoon in a row they’ve spent in this room, and by far the quietest. They train every morning and evening except for Sunday, but the hours between are their “free time.” It’s a good thing the time is “free” because she has done nothing but waste it.

Wanda drums her fingers petulantly on the arm of her chair, restlessness coiling in her chest. She jabs the remote buttons again.

There is nothing on TV. Even worse, there is nothing to do, and she needs to do something. With a growl, Wanda hits the power button and tosses the remote to the table.

“Did you know mantis shrimp are equipped with sixteen different kinds of cones?” Vision suddenly says.

Wanda turns to look at him.

“That’s thirteen more than humans possess,” he remarks thoughtfully, eyes still tracing the page of the encyclopedia.

This was another new thing, his habit of sharing random facts. There is an unspoken understanding between them that they spend the afternoons here in their library because neither dares venture into the mob of noisy people and hectic thoughts that awaits them downstairs.

Wanda could take the solitude a step farther and stay in her room. Completely cut herself off from the noise. But somehow her room is too quiet. Too empty.

She wonders if he feels the same about his.

So they end up here, sharing each other’s company but rarely speaking. Not knowing what to say is another thing they have in common. Vision wants to talk, though. She can see it in the way he glances up from his book every once in a while, eyes darting to her, just briefly. And she tries to start the conversation sometimes, she really does. But it is frightening to realize how little she remembers of how. This is why Vision breaks the silence and she does her best to keep the conversation rolling.

Wanda tilts her head. “Cones? What cones?”

Vision straightens. “Oh, pardon me for the lack of context. I see this topic requires a little elaboration.” Enthusiasm brightens his eyes as he ponders how best to explain. He really does have nice eyes.

“The organic eye perceives light and color due to a thin layer of neurons and receptors covering its posterior wall. This layer is called the retina. The superficial layer of the retina is composed of photoreceptors, which come in two different varieties, cones and rods.”

Most of the words fly over her head, but Wanda cannot hide an amused smile as Vision adds his hands to his demonstration.

“The rods line the distal edges of the retina, providing sharp vision, while the cones cluster in the middle and supply color vision. Humans have three types of cones, each perceiving a different wavelength of light. Mantis shrimp, on the other hand, have sixteen different varieties.”

“So they see more colors?”

Vision purses his lips. “Oddly enough, no. They can see ultraviolet light, however, and a property of light called polarization. The latter is sort of the orientation of the light waves.” He holds his hands up side by side, first vertically, then horizontally.

“Hmm.” Wanda considers this, searching for a good question to ask. Her mind remains blank. It’s harder to think now that Pietro is gone, like trudging through knee deep snow with every thought.

After a few moments without a reply from Wanda, one corner of Vision’s mouth lifts. The other remains stubbornly flat, allowing him to offer her only an awkward half-smile before he ducks his head and returns to his book. It is the one expression he hasn’t figured out yet, likely because he always seems so unsure about it. As if he’s afraid to commit and show the wrong reaction.

Wanda bites her lip as silence returns to the room.

“It is quieter than usual.” She glances toward the hallway. Normally they can hear the murmur of activity floors below, but today there is an uncanny stillness. It is far quieter than even the weekend, which is only minimally less hectic than the rest of the week.

“Today is President Washington’s Birthday, a federal holiday,” Vision promptly replies.

Wanda stares at him.

He lifts his gaze and clears his throat, a little sheepish. “By which I mean no one except Agent Romanoff is working today.”

“No one else.”

“Correct.”

Wanda fiddles with her sleeves, tentatively reaching across the compound to confirm this. The only minds besides theirs are those of the security guards.

“Would… you be interested in exploring?” Vision traces the cover of his book, stealing a quick glance at Wanda’s face. “I haven’t had the chance to investigate most of the ground floor.”

Wanda looks around the library. There is nothing to do here. And the building is completely empty…

She shrugs. “I guess.”

Vision nods and stands, wiping his hands on his slacks. Despite the formality of the outfit, he looks comfortable in his vest and dress shirt. Still, he does not seem to completely grasp the idea of clothing. He hasn’t switched outfits since picking this one, choosing instead to just change the color every morning.

The moment they step from the elevator into the huge, empty lobby, Vision tenses. His eyes dart across the abandoned floor without seeming to actually see it.

“Let’s, um… Let’s go this direction.” Wanda tips her head toward the right, and Vision nods, blinking a couple times. They walk without talking, resisting the urge to tiptoe as their footsteps echo off the walls.

Most of the doors on the ground floor lead to bland offices, and the two floors above aren’t much better. The rooms are either locked, more offices, or storage.

Her flicker of anticipation for this journey has long died out and Wanda is about to give up, when they stumble across yet another storage room.

Vision examines the label on the door. “Prop storage.”

Wanda lifts an eyebrow. “Props for what?”

With a shrug, Vision opens the door, gesturing for her to enter first. The room isn’t nearly as large as some they’ve found, but it’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes, totes, and assorted junk all the same. For a building only recently built and occupied, the Avengers wasted no time filling it.

Seeing only junk, Wanda turns to exit. But when she doesn’t hear footsteps behind her, she glances over her shoulder to see Vision wandering deeper inside. With a sigh, she follows, fingers trailing idly over the shelving units.

“Theatre props is the first possibility that comes to mind, but I can see no logic in it,” Vision muses, still stuck on the room name.

Smooth leather meets Wanda’s fingertips, and she stops.

Is this…?

Reaching into the shelf, she slides out a black case and sets it on the floor. Her hands find the latch by memory, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that crosses her face as the lid opens to reveal an acoustic guitar.

“Do you play?” Vision asks, peering over her shoulder.

“I did.” Wanda traces the wooden grain and gives the steel strings a gentle pluck or two. Glancing up, she catches Vision watching her expectantly. “What?”

“Are… Are you going to play it now?” Curiosity gleams in his eyes.

Her arms ache to hold it, her fingers to slot the notes and strum the strings. The need to play it winds together with another familiar ache, just as strong. The memory of her instructor. Her mama.

“No.” Wanda shuts the case.

“Oh.” Vision frowns. “Are you sure? I don’t think anyone would mind.” He glances around the empty room.

Wanda lifts the case and slides it back onto the shelf. “I’m sure.” Her curt tone keeps away any questions.

A few minutes later, they return to the library. But Wanda’s thoughts linger in the cramped props room all day.

The next morning, she is greeted by a black leather case outside her door. Frowning, Wanda eyes the case and searches for Vision’s mind. His thoughts echo from downstairs. Wanda shakes her head and sighs. She told him she wasn’t going to play.

For a moment longer, she stares at the smooth leather, picturing the instrument inside. She bites her lip. Kneeling beside the case, she flips open the lid. The guitar lies there quietly. Inviting. Promising. A soft brush of her fingers breaks the silence with a low hum. It needs to be tuned. Wanda pulls the case into her room and closes the door behind her. Before she can change her mind, she lifts the instrument into her arms.

The guitar is lighter than she expected, than she remembered. Yet it feels just as right. The strings are strong and familiar under her fingers and the ring of the notes resounds in her chest. The ache, the itch to play becomes louder than the need to avoid digging up old grief.

This floor really does belong to her and Vision, so no one will hear if she plays a few chords. None of the other rooms have ever been used, not even the offices, and not a single employee dares journey up here. Wanda feels the frantic spikes of fear in their minds on the rare occasions she enters their domain downstairs; it doesn’t take much to put two and two together and realize she has been isolated on purpose.

Normally, it would anger her. Normally, she would give them a piece of her mind. But she’s tired, and she is grateful for the solitude. For the quiet.

Especially today, when there is no one to hear her and ask questions, such as who taught her to play, or what the song is, or why she chose such a “sad” chord.

Wanda frets a D minor. She strums the waiting strings.

And finally the world fades away as she falls into the music.

----------

If the days are long and suffocating, the nights are worse. Darkness falls and Wanda lies awake, sleeping fitfully or not at all. The nightmares are fewer, but still she can’t sleep. Insomnia, Vision calls it.

But she avoids the subject, because she can’t talk about how her sleeping mind seeks out the comfort of his, diving into the ocean of gold when the nightmares start. Or how even her few good dreams take place on the seashore now. It’s too much, too close. Too personal to put into words.

There’s something about Vision. Wanda doesn’t understand it, but his mind and soul glow brighter than any she’s ever seen before. And somehow he and she are connected.

Yet every morning, she wakes and reminds herself she can’t lean on the comfort and reassurance he so willingly offers. What if she grows to need it? What if she begins to need him, and like everyone else in her life, he is taken away? She’ll be left behind again. Left alone.

She always is.

Wanda stares at the ceiling, her own breath too loud in her ears, nearly as loud as the thoughts burning in her mind. Flinging the covers aside, she slips from bed. There will be no sleep tonight.

The digital clock reads 2:11 AM. She walks just to move, to do something. She can’t outrun her own mind. But she can try.

Wanda tiptoes down the darkened hallway. The elevator looms ahead, and she stops. Down? No. The last thing she wants is to run into an obsessive employee working late into the night.

So up, then.

The doors open onto the rooftop and Wanda steps blinking from the harshly lit elevator. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the gentler light of the night. One by one, like frightened children, stars surface in the sky above, outlining a figure stationed at the building’s edge. His cape swirls softly in the brisk February wind.

She does not have to guess who it is.

Always, she and Vision end up together. In the library. Here. Are they really so similar that they seek the same places? Or did she search for him subconsciously? (She suspects it wouldn’t be the first time.) Or was it the invisible thread pulling them, a connection she can’t comprehend born from the moment she looked into his mind as he lay dreaming in the cradle. Part of him was still Ultron then. But Vision was there. She felt it.

Wanda steps quietly across the concrete. She stops just behind Vision, unwilling to disturb him but reluctant to go inside.

“I was disappointed to hear the New Avengers team would not be based at Stark Tower,” Vision says suddenly.

Stark. Wanda bites back a scoff. His disappointment is not mutual.

“It has nothing to do with Mr. Stark,” Vision continues, guessing her thoughts. “It is only that I have a certain… fondness for his view of the city lights.” He stares out over the dark countryside and she joins him, standing a couple feet from the edge. “They represent the life of the city, spread across the streets below. Still bright despite the hour, shining on both those awake and those peacefully slumbering. Pushing back the night like guardian angels. Providing a sense of comfort and safety.”

Vision’s words have the rhythm of poetry. His eyes glow softly like the light he paints such a reverent picture of. Wanda watches the serene blue spill over his pensive expression. In his light, she sees comfort. Safety. Just as he says. She looks away.

“There are more stars here, though.” Wanda nods toward the sky above. “You can’t see them in the city.”

Vision cranes his neck, searching the galaxies spread across the darkness. “But they’re so very far away,” he whispers. Curling his long legs beneath him, he sinks to the concrete, his head still tilted back to stare above.

Wanda stands in silence. She doesn’t know how to answer. Why his expression is so sorrowful or how to fix it. She doesn’t understand the source of his pain. But the ache of watching stars at night… This she understands. No matter how brightly, how beautifully they shine, they always burn out.

Wanda traces a meteor as it streaks across the sky and disappears from view.

Some stars even fall.

After a moment, Wanda sits beside Vision and pulls her knees to her chest.

The brilliant, glimmering show of the galaxies unfolds above them, millions of light years away. They watch until it melts before the threat of the morning light. Until every trace fades as if it were never there.

They do not say anything.

----------

Knock knock.

Stifling a groan, Wanda rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Hello.” Vision offers her a smile and a mug of coffee. The smile is as tentative as always, lifting only half his mouth. But a new light in his eyes makes up for it. “Good morning, Miss Maximoff.”

“Wanda,” she reminds him, accepting the steaming cup. She barely remembers to mumble her thanks before taking a long drink. Vision, as it turns out, is a much better coffee brewer than whoever made the burnt, bitter monstrosity.

Vision nods his acknowledgement. Is it just her grogginess, or does he hold his shoulders higher? Not with tension but with… confidence. He meets her eyes eagerly, boldly. As if he truly wants to be here. With her.

But maybe it’s just her imagination.

Vision’s gaze flickers past Wanda and into her room, just briefly. A sudden twinge of guilt twists in her chest. She didn’t join him in the library yesterday. In fact, after he delivered her morning coffee, she didn’t see him at all until nighttime. When they met on the rooftop under the stars.

She had spent all her time with the guitar, letting it pull her in and awaken an all-consuming desire to relearn the sound of the notes and the feel of the rhythm. To reclaim a piece of herself. And to be honest, she has no desire to share something so personal with anyone else. But Vision brought her the instrument. He gave her the push she needed to actually play it. It is only fair she let him hear a little.

Wanda takes another sip of her coffee to hide a sudden smile. With eyes as lively and curious as his, how could she say no? Lowering her mug, she clears her throat. “Also, thank you. For the guitar. I would not have gone back for it myself.”

“You are most welcome.”

She shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “Would you… want to hear it?”

“Oh, yes please! If you don’t mind.” Those blue eyes Wanda can’t stop noticing glimmer with childish enthusiasm, and some of her hesitancy fades. She opens the door a bit wider and returns to her seat on the bed. Vision follows, gaze darting across the room, hands wringing. He stops just inside the doorway.

Breathing deeply, Wanda bends her head and focuses on her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, another piece of the world around her fades. Vision’s presence, the hum of activity floors below, the heater’s droning buzz. Her fingers slide down the polished fret. The strings bite into her sore fingertips, but the notes she plucks are clean and crisp.

They ring slowly and distinctly at first, each with a bold and individual voice. After a few measures the melody begins to grow, building and expanding beat by beat. Notes find their places, melding with their harmonies in a tune mounting in complexity. The volume, the tension builds until all the notes weave together, their voices joining in a single resounding chord that ends the song.

Wanda smiles to herself. The hours spent perfecting that piece and her red, aching fingertips are well worth it. Glancing up, she falters at the sight of Vision’s face. His eyes are wide and awestruck, as if she just performed a baffling magic trick. Though quite proud of herself, she must admit the tune isn’t particularly difficult or beautiful. But Vision’s expression says he thinks otherwise.

His gaze leaps from her, to the guitar, and back. “How did you do that?”

“I just… press my fingers here...” Surely he knows how guitars work.

“No, how did your hands move with such swiftness and precision? And in perfect coordination with each other?”

Her face reddens. “It wasn’t perfect.”

He stares at her hands. “It was entrancing.”

Wanda fidgets with the tuning pegs, embarrassed by his unabashed honesty and admiration. “Anyone could learn that.” The image of Vision poring over encyclopedias and old novels jumps to the front of her mind. “You could.”

His eyes snap to hers. “Oh, I truly don’t think so...”

“Would you like to try?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Giving him an encouraging smile, Wanda nods toward the bedspread next to her. The guitar looks small and delicate in Vision’s large hands as he carefully accepts it from her, propping it against his knee in an imitation of her posture. Awkward and uncertain, he looks to Wanda for guidance.

“Alright. The basics are mostly form and knowledge of the notes. The first string is an ‘E.’” She nods to him. He finds and plucks it. “Good. By holding the string against the board there at the top of the neck, you will make another note.” The “F” Vision plucks twangs brassy and flat. “You’ll have to press harder.”

He nods, brow furrowing as he applies more pressure and tries again. The note rings clear and musical.

“Good. To make a chord, press with more than one finger. The E minor is your second and third fingers on the second fret, fifth and fourth strings.” Her fingers curve around the empty air, miming the placement.

It takes her a moment to notice the wide-eyed look he gives her.

Wanda’s about to suggest they stick with single notes for now, when Vision cranes his neck and stares at the fretboard. “Second and third fingers,” he whispers to himself. His long, elegant fingers are strangely clumsy on the strings, fumbling to find the position.

“Second fret,” Wanda reminds him. She bites her lip as she watches him struggle. “Here.” She reaches for his hand. And just a moment too late, she remembers his aversion to touch.

Her fingers brush his and he jumps as if struck by electricity, the instrument nearly slipping from his grasp as he yanks his hand away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Wanda apologizes, face flushing bright red. Vision set a boundary through his careful actions, and she crossed it. It’s no way to repay someone who has been nothing but overwhelmingly kind to her. I didn’t mean to, I am so sorry-

“No, no, I must apologize. I honestly didn’t mean to respond in such a manner.” Guilt and horror at his own reaction chases the shock from Vision’s face. He looks just as sorry as she feels.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I should have asked.” Her entire face burns. He’s so new and inexperienced, more frightened and unsure than she probably knows.

“You only surprised me. I-” Vision stares down at the instrument in his hands. He takes a deep breath and his shoulders loosen downward a fraction of an inch. “I actually would like you to show me. The chord, that is.”

Glancing nervously toward his hands, Wanda bites her lip again. “M-may I?”

Vision’s irises rotate just once. She sees the moment he chooses to trust her. “Yes.”

His fingers are rigid and cold as she gently nudges them in the right direction, trying to keep her own hands from shaking as she explains how the notes fit together. He follows her guidance as best he can, the stiffness never leaving his hands. When Wanda checks out the corner of her eye, his jaw is just as tense as his arms. But then he glances at her, just briefly. And his eyes are soft and open. Longing, almost.

There is so much she does not understand about him. His sorrow the night before, his fear of people and touch. The hidden shame she’s just starting to hear behind his words. But there are some things that make sense now. There are some things she knows.

He trusts her. The realization startles Wanda in how sudden and obvious it is. He talks about his interests to her, lets her see the nervous and scared parts of him. He lets her guide his hand across the strings, despite the measures he takes to avoid even casual contact in the hallway.

Vision trusts her. But he doesn’t trust anyone else, and she knows exactly why. The few instances she’s seen him interact with others flash through her mind. Yes, he chooses to keep his distance, even during conversations, and never once has she seen him shake someone’s hand. But now that she thinks about it, she’s also never seen anyone offer him a handshake.

The people of Sokovia had avoided touching urchins such as Wanda and Pietro like they carried a disease. And isn’t Vision just like they were? Isn’t he new, and uncertain, and afraid, just like a child? Sent into the world alone just like an orphan?

Anger burns in her chest. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to take care of Vision, but they handed him off. Dropped him at the doorstep of the compound, where he is ignored and avoided by every employee. Where he is nothing to the Avengers but another recruit to whip into shape.

Wanda may not know them well, but she is certain the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. would not abandon a child. No, if a child was placed in their care, they would guide and nurture him, providing whatever he needed as he struggled to learn and develop. As he tried to discover who he was. And if they could not provide this, they would place him with someone who could. They would not fail a child the way they have failed Vision.

Do they really not see him?

“Perhaps I am capable of learning to play an instrument,” -Vision’s voice pushes Wanda’s thoughts aside, pulling her back to the present- “But I think I shall leave the music to one with more skill.” He gives her the half-smile, and her heart breaks a little.

She shakes her head slowly, trying to refocus. “You are not so bad.”

Vision passes the guitar to her. “Could I hear another song?” He asks so shyly, and a soft affection fills her heart.

Wanda shrugs, settling the guitar in her lap. “I guess it is not yet time for training. One more.” Her fingers move almost on their own as a flurry of thoughts continues to tumble through her mind. She feels Vision watching her contentedly, open admiration written across his face.

He is so young, so eager and afraid all at once. So desperate to make a connection and find something to hold onto. He needs more than someone to ask questions of and tell unusual facts. He needs direction, to be introduced to experiences and the world outside this building, just as he so strongly desires.

The Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have failed him, completely. Forgotten him.

Wanda will not.

#scarletvision #wanda maximoff #vision #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #mine

[sunflowershouto]

butterfly effect - katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: This wasn’t a request, I just wanted to write bakugou fluff, ya know? Hope you enjoy! This may be part one of a series, who knows? Depends on if people like it or not! Let me know if you’d like part two! Just a warning, reader has a bad relationship with her dad, and it’s pretty central to the story! Avoid this one if that topic is sensitive for you.

My requests are currently open!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: ❝I knew the power of a single wish, after all. Invisible and inevitable, like a butterfly that beats its wings in one corner of the globe and with that single action changes the weather halfway across the world.❞

Set on the first day of class at U.A. for 1A!

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.8k

𝐛 𝐮 𝐭 𝐭 𝐞 𝐫 𝐟 𝐥 𝐲   𝐞 𝐟 𝐟 𝐞 𝐜 𝐭

It was your one wish in life for things to finally change.

You were burnt out, fed up, at the end of your rope, all because you felt as though nothing in your life was truly meaningful. Even getting into U.A. was cheapened by the fact that your father had put so much pressure on you to apply, to get in. By the time you got the notice of your acceptance, it hardly felt like your own accomplishment, just another thing you’d done to appease your father.

That morning was your first day, and you should have been excited, but if you were being honest, you felt more apprehensive than anything. You’d had so many chances like this, so many opportunities that could have, should have, completely changed your life. Only they hadn’t, and you were still that same burnt out girl who didn’t know what her own dreams were, who had spent her whole life doing everything for everyone but herself. You stared out your window as the sun rose over the city, and the only thing on your mind was a soft prayer, a quiet wish that today, things would be different. 

You ate breakfast quietly at the table, speaking to your father and grandmother when spoken to, and feigning enthusiasm over your very first day at the Academy. Cups and bowls clinked harshly against the wooden table, long pauses in the conversation were awkward and stiff. You didn’t bother to try to fill the silences; if your father wanted to speak to you, he would. 

“Take your bike to school today, Y/N.”

“What?” You looked up from your plate as your father gave you what seemed like an order. “Why? The train is so much easier.”

“You’ve spent all summer lazing around the house. Exercise will do you good for your first day. After all, you need to be successful here.” His tone was so callous, so impersonal. 

It made you want to scream, to ask him why he cared more about your reputation than your feelings. You wanted to explode, to finally tell him that you didn’t care what he wanted, that you’d spent so long working for his ideals, that you didn’t even know yourself.

“Okay.”

The second you were out the door and on the way to the campus, your shoulders slumped, and you let out a heavy sigh. It always felt like that every time you left your house, as if a weight was being lifted off of your shoulders.

The fresh air was soothing as you retrieved your bike from the storage shed outside of your home, the the handlebars and axles stiff from not being used all summer.

“Stupid thing. . .” you muttered to yourself, jerking the handles around until they moved a bit more freely. “What difference does it make if I take my bike, huh? Stupid.” 

Just like that, you started your ride to school, zoning out and escaping into your own thoughts as you watched the clouds roll lazily across the morning sky. Maybe. . . Maybe today things would change. All your life you’d been trying to do something that would get you away from that house, away from your father and his overbearing expectations. Even just something that would bring some form of joy to your life. You didn’t care what it was; if a stranger walked up to you, asking you to join the freaking circus, you would have said yes. You had always been a hopeful person, but how long could you hold out for something that wasn’t coming? Maybe you would always live under a shadow, maybe you would always be this lonely, this tired.

You didn’t notice as you came up over the top of a small hill, just kept coasting along until you started to head rapidly downwards. No problem, just brake and-

“What the-”

You gasped as you realized that your brakes weren’t working, and you had nothing slowing your momentum as you went faster and faster down the sloped sidewalk. 

“Nonononononono!” you shrieked, desperately slamming your brakes and praying that they’d start working.

Just as you reached the bottom of the slope, someone rounded the corner, and you shrieked as you and the bicycle went slamming into them.

𝖢𝖱𝖠𝖲𝖧!

“Nnh. . .” Your head was fuzzy as you regained your bearings, half draped over whoever you had crashed into.

“Oi. . . What. The. HELL?! WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!” 

When you looked up, you were met with seething red eyes and a ruffled head of spiky blonde hair. And. . .

Oh, God, he’s wearing a U.A. uniform. Kill me, kill me, kill me!

You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, only to stare dumbfounded up at this stranger (and possibly your classmate) as he berated you with a string of curses. This was not what you had meant when you’d wished for something to happen! Curse your stupid dad. . . If he’d just let you take the train like you’d wanted, you never would have met this jerk!

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? My brakes stopped working, and-” You stopped mid-sentence as you realized that your knee was stinging, badly. Great. Just another problem on the laundry list of reasons you didn’t want to be here. You looked down and found that your knee was badly scraped, a purple bruise forming around the cut.

“Serves you right, not watching where you’re going like that,” he nagged, glancing down at the wound before returning to glaring at you. “Are you stupid or something?!”

You grit your teeth, returning his glare with one of your own. You really weren’t in the mood for this, and this guy seemed to have his head so far up his own ass. . . “Unbelievable! I just told you my brakes stopped working! It was an accident, you jerk!”

“You’re the one that ran me over!” he shouted, shoving you off of him and rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t have to be such an ass about it! I said I’m sorry!” You rolled your eyes as you too got to your feet, picking your bike up off the ground, knuckles white around the handlebars.

“Whatever,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pocket and shaking his head. He started to walk off, not even glancing back at you. “I’m not gonna let some stupid extra like you make me late on our first day.”

“Extra!?” That was it. You hated this idiot. What was wrong with him!? “You are unbelievable!” Just like that, you started walking after him, making a point of getting ahead of him and walking faster, not looking at him as you did. 

“What are you-” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed as you went ahead of him, and he walked faster too, pulling ahead again and not slowing down.

Jerk.

You were almost jogging now, getting back ahead of him and rolling your bike alongside you. You reached the bike racks and you practically threw your bike at it; it was broken anyway, and you had a point to prove. You were only ahead of him for a couple seconds before he matched your pace, and you started into a full jog just to get ahead. 

“Seriously?! You are so childish!”

“Shut it, extra.”

He got ahead again, and you had had it. 

So had he.

At the same time, you both broke into a full sprint, booking it to the 1-A classroom and practically seething with rage. Other students stared as you ran by, but neither of you stopped to care. This was now a matter of principal. 

Your knee was stinging badly by the time you both clamored into the doorway, out of breath and gathering all sorts of strange stares from your new classmates. 

“. . .Okay, then? Looks like everyone is here now, so get seated. Doesn’t matter where, just hurry up.” 

Your face flushed as you realized that the entire class, and the teacher, had just seen your display of stubbornness, and you started glaring daggers at that spiky-haired idiot, who had already managed to ruin your first day before class had even started.

In fact, you were so busy glowering, that you failed to notice that the only two seats left in the room were back to back. Your face paled, and a knot formed in your stomach. “You have got to be kidding me.”

You trudged over and fell into the seat, the idiot porcupine taking the seat directly behind you. Ten minutes into class, and you felt something small flick against the back of your head. When you turned to look, you saw Porcupine sitting there with a pile of wadded up paper and an insufferable sneer on his face. 

He flicked another, and it struck you in the forehead. 

You didn’t even bother, just turned back around and buried your head in your arms. This was going to be a long year.

-----------

It was five months into the school year, and you were absolutely about to lose your mind. No matter how well you did on evaluations, no matter how high you ranked in your class numbers, nothing was enough. You were still a disappointment to your father, he still thought you were lazy, not applying yourself. You were giving it your all, but getting nothing in return. You were exhausted and at your breaking point, and to top it all off, Katsuki Bakugou was as insufferable as ever. 

He mocked you relentlessly, tore down your every achievement, and went out of his way to be a complete and utter bother. He was a porcupine idiot, and he managed to make your life at school just as miserable as it was at home. Today you’d had enough.

Of course, you’d been unlucky enough to pair with him in sparring, but better than that, you had been totally off your game. Bakugou had crushed you, and he’d made absolute sure that you knew it too.

I knew you’d wash up after a few months, L/N. Someone like you isn’t strong enough to make it to the top. Just quit already, we all know who’s gonna be number one around here, and it ain’t gonna be you!

You wanted to strangle him for saying that, but you didn’t have it in you to fight back that time. You shoved him off you and walked away without a word, something that even he had to notice was unlike you. You spent your lunch break alone in the 1-A classroom, your knees pulled up to your chest as you sat against the far wall, just beneath one of the window panes. You didn’t notice Bakugou’s phone sitting forgotten on his desk. 

You breathed in and out as best you could, trying to tame the lump in your throat and keep any tears from spilling over. Even if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t handle the idea of letting Bakugou make you cry. If he could see you right now, you knew exactly what he would say. He’d call you pathetic, tell you to quit. All things you were starting to believe. You had hoped so much that things at U.A. would be different, but despite all the knew friends you’d made, you felt worse than ever.

You looked up, slightly startled as your phone started ringing in your pocket, and a pit formed in your stomach as you saw your father’s contact lighting up the screen. You couldn’t ignore it; as soon as you were home, he’d just berate you about not picking up. You sucked in a breath, then held the phone to your ear.

“Hi, dad,” you greeted, trying your best to sound cheerful. “What is it?”

“I just got your report card in the mail,” he replied, his tone as cool as ever, lacking any of the concern or care that a parent’s voice should have. “Your grade in combat training went down. It was an ‘A.’ You have ‘B+’ now. Care to explain?”

“Dad. . .” Your chest started to feel like it was caving in, and suddenly you were talking around the lump in your throat. “I’m trying my best, I just-”

“Your best?! This clearly isn’t your best, Y/N, seeing as you’ve clearly gotten worse since last term! I’m not paying for you to be lazy and slack off! I’ve poured so much money into your education and you repay me like this?”

“It was just bad luck! I lost a few fights, I can get the grade back up, and-”

“No. If your grades slip any further there are going to be consequences. Serious ones.”

“Dad, please, I-”

“Do I make myself clear?!”

“I- Yes, papa.” Defeated, you let your phone clatter to the floor once you’d ended the call, and you buried your face in your knees, unable to hold back the tears that had finally started to spill over. You were shaking, and your fingers rooted in your hair, nails digging into the palms of your hand. Stupid. Stupid and worthless.

“Oi.”

Not now, Bakugou.

“Why are you even here? I know. I lost. Haven’t you rubbed it in enough?” you muttered, lifting your head and glaring up at Bakugou through watery eyes, unable to even muster a glare.

“Hmph. Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not here for you,” he assured you, gesturing to the phone that was sitting on his desk. 

You looked away, diverting your gaze to the side and wiping your eyes with your sleeve, though more tears came just as soon as you did. Of course. It was always something small and stupid that ensured that you’d have to deal with Bakugou. He’d just had to leave his phone today of all days.

“You really just let him talk to you like that?”

“What?” You looked back over to him, eyes narrowed.

“Your old man. You’re really not gonna stand up to him? I thought you had more fight in you than that. Guess I was wrong.” He pocketed the phone and headed for the door.

“You don’t understand what he’s like.” You shook your head, eyes roaming the floor. “It’s not that easy. He expects everything to be perfect.”

“So what? You’re just gonna waste all your time doing all this for him? Pretty stupid if you ask me. You don’t even want to be a hero, so why-”

“You’re wrong.” You cut him off, looking over at him, his back still turned to you. “I do want to be a hero, I know that.”

“Then stop fucking crying about it and just do it. Letting someone else control your life is just pathetic,” he snapped, turning to look at you over his shoulder, expression mildly irritated. “Besides, sparring with you is a waste of my time if you’re not actually trying. You’re no use to me if you sit there crying all day, ‘cause no one’s gonna know how much better than you I actually am if I don’t destroy you while you give it your all.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tears were still coming. Never in your life had you expected Bakugou to be the one to encourage you, if you could even call this encouragement. You could see through him; he wasn’t heartless after all, but Bakugou even at his kindest was still pretty rough around the edges. 

“Th-Thank you,” you mumbled, wiping at your eyes again. This was still humiliating, even if he was being nicer than usual. You hated crying in front of anyone, but especially someone like him. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to control yourself and be strong. 

You heard footsteps approaching, and gasped at the feeling of a hand resting heavily on top of your head, your eyes opening. You were met with Bakugou’s signature glare, red eyes drilling into you as he scowled, his hand tipping your head back so you would look at him.

“Don’t thank me, L/N. I said shut up and stop crying, damnit,” he growled, brow twitching in irritation.

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him for a long moment, before you burst into giggles, your hand coming up to cover your mouth.

His scowl deepened and his hand on top of your head tightened in anger. “What!? The hell are you laughing at me for?!”

“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just- You look so scary when you’re trying to be nice,” you laughed, a smile finally breaking through the tears.

He withdrew his hand, looking somewhat disgusted. “NICE?! DON’T GET IT CONFUSED! I WASN’T TRYING TO BE NICE TO YOU!” 

You waved him off, your giggles finally subsiding and your spirits lifted slightly. “It’s okay, Bakugou. I won’t tell anyone that you’re not so bad.”

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed for the door. “You’re still just a stupid extra.”

“Okay, Porcupine,” you called, wiping away the last of your tears and standing to watch him go. 

And to think, all this because of a broken bike and a forgotten phone.

//

𝑬𝒏𝒅 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Thank you for reading! This can either be a stand-alone, or a part one! Let me know if you’d like to read more of this story!

#mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero imagines #my hero x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine

[butlerbarb]

Comfort (Leviathan x Reader)

i should start by saying sorry for just disappearing out of nowhere. i think i just had too much on my plate and burnt myself out. which then caused me to spiral into a depressive episode and lose all motivation to work on something. 

with that being said, i wanted to write something about how i've been feeling as a way to vent it. i also wanted it to be comfy and nice and i really just wanted leviathan to hug me and tell me everything is okay :) i hope you enjoy this very soft and self indulgent fic bc i love leviathan more than anything

also! i am working on requests, so expect those out within the next few days or so!

ily <3

It had been one of those days. Well, really it had been one of those weeks. Those days where you just didn’t want to leave your bed, more comfortable to hide away by yourself as to not bother anyone with how out of it you were feeling. Of course, Lucifer would probably have your head if he found out you were skipping classes, so you went about your days pretending you were fine.

Leviathan had invited you to his room after school, you hadn’t been able to focus on what he was telling you at breakfast – your mind too fuzzy from having just woken up combined with the fuzziness your off mood had brought on. But knowing the otaku demon, it was either anime or a new video game he bought. His enthusiasm and passion for his interests was something that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you were feeling down.

Your day at school, thankfully, passed by in a blur. Mammon made a point of bragging about his latest modeling job he scored as he walked you home, trying to convince you to go with him. Naturally, he pouted like a child when you turned him down, whining that you were missing the opportunity of a lifetime! Thankfully he gave up when you told him you just weren’t feeling it, but you would be happy to take him up on the offer another time. He dropped you off at home after that, telling you he’d bring you something on his way back.

You were barely in the door when Leviathan was charging at you from the common room, rushing you into kicking off your schools before he dragged you up to his room. You tried to argue that you still had your RAD uniform on and that he should at least give you a minute to change, but he was hearing none of it. He waited all day for you to get home, he wasn’t going to wait another minute! However, that excuse fell apart quickly when you gave him a set of puppy dog eyes, letting you hurry off to your room on a time limit.

You changed into more comfortable clothes quickly, using up only 3 minutes of the 5-minute limit he gave you. You were back in his room just as he had finished setting everything up. You took note of the snacks that he had set up in different bowls around his room. Wow, you thought, this must be really important. Leviathan usually never went all out like this unless it was mega important.

“What’s all this for, Levi? Seems like a lot for just a few episodes.” You commented, grabbing a handful of chips out of a bowl as you sat down on the edge of the bed. You cringed at how spicy it was, some of the flavors were intense in the Devildom. Leviathan’s eyes widened as he gave you an incredulous look.

“A few episodes!? No, no, no. We’re watching the entire series tonight.” The demon explained as he removed a disk from its packaging and slipped it inside his PC. “This series, 10 Things I’ve Always Wondered About the Demon King: Facts versus Fiction! has been teased for years! YEARS! And they finally released it all at once on DVD. People have been speculating about it for so long and AH! I CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH IT!”

You laughed at his energy, simply nodding as you reclined on his bed. He dove into bed next to you once the opening began playing, delight blooming on his face immediately. You let your head rest on Leviathan’s lower legs, expecting him to jump and practically kick you away, but to your surprise he didn’t even seem to notice. The show had barely started, and he was already lost in it.

It had been a few hours and you were only a few episodes deep. Levi had told you it had multiple seasons with at least 12 episodes each, so you really were going to be there for the night. It had been enjoyable at first, but after a while of mindlessly staring at the screen and reading subtitles, you slowly lost a majority of your interest. Leviathan still seemed fully absorbed, however. You breathed a sigh, stretching your arms above your head. You pulled your legs up onto the bed, crossing them underneath you, resting elbow on your knee, and your chin on the palm of your hand.

You let your eyes wander around the room, head filled with the same fuzziness as this morning. While you enjoyed the anime, and spending time with Leviathan, you knew it would have only been a matter of time before you were back to feeling the same way. You tried to act as normal as possible, not wanting to worry Levi or worse, distract him from the series he had been looking forward to.

You were surprised when the sound suddenly stopped, and you tore your gaze away from on of the anime figures your eyes had been locked on for longer than necessary. Glancing at the screen and then behind you to Leviathan, you raised and eyebrow at the worried look on his face.

“Are you okay?” The blue-haired demon asked, sitting up from his reclined positions to mimic your crossed legs.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” You replied, giving him a smile, resting your hand on his knee. Leviathan’s eyes narrowed as he shook his head at you.

“You’re not fine! You seemed distracted this morning and it’s the same now. You know you can tell me if something is wrong.”

“Leviathan, I- “

“No excuses! I don’t… I don’t like seeing you upset like this…” He cut you off before you could say anything, mumbling the last part of his sentence as his cheeks flushed a dark red colour. You felt your eyes blow wide as the normally shy demon reached forward, grabbing your free hand as well as the one you had previously rested on his knee.

“Leviathan…” You frowned, watching tears prick the corners of his eyes. Wow, he was really upset about this, huh? You let out a sigh, deciding that if you were going to tell anyone, it might as well be the one who was about to cry out of worry.

“I don’t know, Levi. I’ve just been feeling… off. For the past week. I can’t really describe it. Just sad.” You admitted quietly, your eyes locking onto your joined hands. The silence was unnerving as Leviathan processed your words and suddenly you were extremely uncomfortable.

“Like… depressed?” You nodded in response to his question, eyes briefly flicking up to gauge his expression. He seemed indifferent yet stared at you intently. Your eyes widened as he let go of your hands and threw his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Levi, what…”

“I just! I just want you to know that… You’re not alone and that I… I care about you…” He whispered, burying his face into your hair as he held you tightly. His sudden confession shocked you into silence, all you could do was wrap your own arms around his torso, trying your hardest not to cry. Although even your hardest attempt couldn’t change how overwhelmed you felt, and eventually you were bawling into his shirt, more than likely staining it with tears.

You sat there together for who knows how long, Leviathan happy to let you cry it all out until you felt better. You could have sworn you felt a tear or two hit the skin of your neck, and you fought back a laugh. Leviathan was such a sensitive demon, being brought to tears by the smallest things.

Eventually, your seemingly endless flow of tears came to a stop. You pulled away from him slightly, his arms still wrapped around you as you briefly used the sleeve of your shirt to dry any remaining tears. Levi slowly pulled away, hands resting on your shoulders as he shot you a concerned look. You laughed quietly, wiping at your nose as you sniffled. You smiled at him, nodding a little to let him know you were okay.

He went to pull back, hands slipping off of your shoulder when you stopped him. Placing both of your hands on his cheeks, watching in amusement as his cheeks gained a flushed colour once again. Pulling him closer by his cheeks, you pressed a small kiss to his forehead. You pulled back not a second later, beaming at him happily.

“Thank you, Leviathan.”

BONUS:

The door to Leviathan’s room burst open, scaring the life out of the both of you. Leviathan jumped back, pushing you away from him in surprise. You fell back onto the bed with a laugh, eye drifting over to the intruder.

“Oi! What’re you two doing? Why’re your eyes all red, human?” Mammon, being the ever loud and obnoxious demon that he was, yelled as he stepped into the room. His arms crossed over his chest as he gave Levi a displeased look.

“Are ya makin’ my human cry, Levi?” The older demon accused, pointing a finger at his younger brother. Leviathan rolled his eyes, completely ignoring the Avatar of Greed as he briefly adjusted his fringe.

“Aren’t you the one always making them cry, Mammon?” The Avatar of Envy answered, glaring at Mammon from underneath his now fixed fringe. Mammon gasped, throwing a hand over his chest in mock offence.

“How dare you! I only even make the human happy, ya know!”

“I don’t know about that, Mammon..” You teased lightly, snickering as his face contorted into genuine sadness as he frowned deeply. “I’m joking! Come here, we’re watching anime! We’ve still got tons of snacks!”

Mammon happily dove into the bed next to you, immediately trapping you next to him with one hand, while the other greedily dove into a snack bowl. Leviathan grumbled lowly, rolling his eyes again before shifting into a comfortable position on your opposite side.

You were glad you had such caring demons to help you out when you were at your lowest. You would never replace them for the world.

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me! #obey me x reader #leviathan x reader #if you enjoyed feel free to send a request! #i'll post something else from my ao3 in a little so this blog isnt entirely leviathan lmfao

[i-just-love-spop]

Breakfast

Direct follow-up to “I’m here”, it would be best to read that one first. “At the end of the world” and “About what happened...” are also both referenced, but you don’t necessarily have to read them to understand this story.

Takes place in between “Taking Control” and “Perils of Peekablue”. This assumes that traveling from Etheria to Prime’s flagship and back took them at least three weeks each, because of their old ship, their limited knowledge of the technology and the lack of any ability to teleport or create portals. I have no idea if that’s accurate, but then again, nobody really knows how much time passes during the show.

Summary: In which Catra tried to make breakfast and it’s better than everyone expected it to be (but that might just be because Adora set the bar extremely low with her first attempt at cooking), Glimmer can’t help clinging to Bow after the precious night, Bow reflects on his feelings towards Glimmer and Adora has no idea why she gets so nervous around Catra all of a sudden, but is just glad to finally be able to call her a friend again.

Also, Entrapta casually calls everyone out on their feelings.

[The amount of Glimbow and Catradora in this is pretty much 50/50.]

Best Friend Squad-bonding in space? Best Friend Squad-bonding in space.

—

Bow and Glimmer were rudely awoken by the sound of the door swooshing open and unpleasantly loud voices.

She still had her arms around him the same way she had when they’d fallen asleep, and she didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

“See? I told you so! That’s exactly why I didn’t want to go back in here.”

“Huh, and here I thought you were just looking for an excuse to share the mattress with me again.”

“What? Me? Nooo...”

They heard Adora laugh.

“Do... do you think we should let them sleep?”

“You should have thought about that before you barged in here,” Glimmer murmured groggily and threw a pillow roughly in the direction the voices had come from without opening her eyes.

She was way too tired for this nonsense.

‘Whoever said space is peaceful and quiet definitely never traveled with these guys.’

“Good morning...?“

Bow blinked, still half asleep when he sat up on the mattress. He kind of dragged Glimmer up with him accidentally because she was still unwilling to let go of him.

...not that he minded.

“What are you guys doing in here?” Glimmer wondered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, yawning.

Her grip on boy tightened a bit when she saw Wrong Hordak. He seemed to be pretty okay, but he brought back a lot of bad memories, and she didn’t think she’d ever get used to that.

“Well, Adora and Catra just spent a weird amount of time commenting on your sleeping position, especially considering I found them in the same one,” Entrapta analyzed with her usual enthusiasm.

The two girls flushed scarlet.

Bow grinned.

“Awwww, you guys were spooning?”

“We. Were. Not. Spooning,” Catra growled, but then she dropped the demeanor, her face turning into a sheepish grin. “...and also, I might have burnt breakfast.”

That genuinely surprised Glimmer, but in a positive way.

“You tried to make breakfast?”

Catra grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Well, yeah. Emphasis on tried. I mean, you cooked for us once, and Arrow Boy did it the rest of the week, and I just... thought I should try it? Argh, I... I don’t know. Maybe that was a stupid idea. Especially because I don’t know how to cook.”

Glimmer shrugged.

“No, that’s fine. It’s... really nice of you, actually. And I don’t think anyone here knows how to cook, except for Bow maybe.”

Adora chuckled.

“Yeah, she has a point.”

“I mean, it can’t be as bad as when Adora tried to make food. We ended up with half-cooked broccoli with chocolate sauce and sprinkles for dinner,” Bow pointed out, shrugging. “It looked kind of nice, but...”

He was trying to be polite, but really, there hadn’t been much in the meal his friend had made that one could be polite about. There was a difference between ‘you clearly haven’t cooked before and your cooking still needs a some work’ and ‘your cooking is literally weapons-grade’.

Glimmer’s face went green.

“Oh stars, don’t remind me. I still want to throw up just thinking about that.”

Catra’s eyes widened.

“Adora did what?!”

She had never tried either of these things, personally, but she roughly knew what they were, and even she could tell that there was no way these were supposed to go together.

The blonde scratched the back of her head.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds...” Glimmer gave her a death glare. “...you know what? Actually, it was.”

Adora blinked for a moment. Why had she tried to defend the terrible food she’d made? She was usually totally cool with the others joking about her really, really poor first attempt at cooking, especially because she herself knew that it had been awful and that she would never try that combination again.

And yet, today she felt a pang of... embarrassment?

Weird. Why would she...

‘It isn’t because Catra’s here, is it? She knows what I’m like, better than anyone, so I doubt this surprises her. And, I mean, there are other ways I could impress her than cooking!’

...wait, why would she want to impress Catra?

That made no sense.

Adora shook her head and abandoned these thoughts.

“And that’s the story why almighty She-Ra over here is banished from Bright Moon’s kitchen,” Glimmer concluded, giggling.

Catra chuckled. That did make her feel a little better about her own cooking skills.

And Adora getting a tad bit embarrassed was also a nice bonus. She looked really cute when she was embarrassed.

...damn, Catra had missed her best friend.

“Not to worry, you guys. No broccoli today. Would have been hard to make anyway, seeing as we have no broccoli on the ship,” the brunette promised. “You guys coming?”

Glimmer smiled.

“Sure, we’ll just get dressed real quick, and then we’ll be right there.”

—

“How are you?” Bow asked his best friend as soon as the door closed behind the others.

Glimmer gave him a small smile.

“Better, I think.” She nuzzled against the crook of his neck. “Just tired.“

He stroked her head.

“You’ll never be a morning person, huh?”

She laughed, visibly relaxing a bit. Being with Bow always made her feel so much better...

“I mean, technically, there are no mornings in space – but no, I’m definitely never going to be a morning person. At this rate, our kids are going to have to wake me one day instead of me waking them.”

Bow stared at her for a second.

Had she just...?

No. No way. Glimmer wouldn’t... she didn’t... they were close, obviously, but... he’d know if she had feelings for him, right?

“You think they’ll be close? ...our kids, I mean,” he added when he saw the confused look on her face. “You know, since you suggested they’d come wake you up together.”

“Yeah. Right. They’ll be best friends, just like us. I’m sure of that,” Glimmer replied, just kind of going with what he had said because oh stars she couldn’t believe she’d just suggested having kids like that without even telling him she was in love with him first.

Bow shook his head and smiled at her softly.

Of course that was what she’d meant.

The mental image of their kids also being best friends one day was adorable.

Despite that, for a moment, he couldn’t help but imagine a girl with his dark curls and Glimmer’s beautiful eyes and a little boy with his eyes and her cute little nose and smile climbing into bed to wake them, him and Glimmer still sleepily embracing each other the same way they had tonight.

‘Huh.’

He really had caught feelings for her, after all.

...or maybe he’d always felt that way about her and hadn’t realized what his feelings truly were until he’d almost lost her.

That thought had always terrified him, but this had been so much worse than anything he could ever have imagined.

This was already the second really close call since they’d met. He’d do everything in his power to make sure there would never be a third.

He hugged her. She snuggled against him. He felt his cheeks heat.

It was weird. As mad as he’d been at her, and as terrified as he’d been about possibly losing her, apparently this was what he’d needed to put some things about their relationship into perspective.

“Hey Bow?” She asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again for earlier. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled at her.

“Of course. Anytime.”

He’d tell her eventually. Maybe.

But now was not the time.

After a while of comfortably sitting like that in silence, Bow spoke up again.

“Come on, we should actually get dressed now, before the others-”

Too late. Catra stuck her head in again.

“Hey, are you guys coming? If you keep making out in the cabin for another hour, the food will taste burnt and be cold by the time you join us!”

Glimmer blushed scarlet and let go of Bow, like that would change anything about what Catra just saw.

“We were not making out!” She protested – then realized how weird her reaction had just been.

She and Bow hugged all the time. Hugging was a normal thing that friends did. There was no need for her to be embarrassed about anyone catching them.

Glimmer shook her head.

‘Well that was subtle... I just made everything worse, didn’t I?’

Surprisingly, though, Catra didn’t bring it up again.

“Sure, whatever. Now get up and get dressed so you can join us for breakfast.”

—

“So... what do you think?”

Catra was super nervous what the others thought about the food she’d made because she was pretty sure it wasn’t terrible – she’d tried it beforehand, of course, she wasn’t trying to poison anyone, after all –, and she really wanted to do something nice for everyone after they’d saved her and been so nice and kind to her despite everything that had happened between them... that she’d done to them.

“This is actually pretty neat,” Glimmer concluded after a while of chewing.

Bow nodded in agreement, and Adora was already moved to tears because Catra had tried at all.

“This is the best thing I have ever eaten,” the blonde breathed, just loud enough for Catra to hear.

The brunette shook her head.

“That’s sweet, dummy, but we both know the food Bow and Glimmer made was way better.”

But Adora shook her head. She meant it. She really did.

The food made her feel warm inside, in a way it couldn’t when Bow or Glimmer cooked.

Wrong Hordak was just eating quietly.

Entrapta put her fork down and cocked her head to the side in curiosity.

“Is that something you do as friends? Lie to the other person to make them feel better about their inadequate skills? Fascinating...”

Catra flattened her ears.

‘Ouch.’

“We’re not lying, Entrapta. This is actually pretty good,” Glimmer chimed in. “Especially considering this is her first time cooking. You can’t let someone cook for the first time in their life and then except the kind of meal professional kitchen staff would make. Besides, Adora has been trying to learn how to cook for years, and let me tell you, it did not get much better after the broccoli with sprinkles-incident. Somehow, Adora is still worse after years of trying than Catra was at her first attempt.”

“Hey!”

There it was again. Adora was embarrassed for no reason. The fact that she couldn’t cook wasn’t a secret, and she usually didn’t even care about it. Other people joking about that was fine. And it wasn’t like that was a skill that really mattered at the moment.

What was going on?

Catra chuckled.

‘Wow. She has a really nice laugh.’

Adora shook her head.

She knew that. She’d always known that. Why was she thinking about that now?

“So that’s your biggest weakness huh? Who would’ve thought! Etheria’s almighty hero, defeated by a stove and a frying pan,” Catra teased her, grinning.

“...shut up.”

Adora tried to sound annoyed, but she was visibly beaming when she nudged the brunette. She was just happy that, after all this time, she could finally call Catra her friend again.

“Never,” Catra replied teasingly as she nudged Adora back. “That’s the only thing I’m going to be talking about for the rest of my life.” Her grin widened. “Hey, that means I can now officially put ‘cooks better than She-Ra’ on my resume, right? Oh, I know! I need a cup that says that! Or an apron!”

Adora giggled.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m an idiot that can cook,” Catra shot back, sticking her tongue out at the blonde.

They were all laughing now, except for Entrapta, who was speaking into her voice recorder.

“After a couple of days of observations, I think I can safely conclude that it is indeed still very much mutual.” She squealed. “Oh, that means I can update Scorpia when we get back home! How exciting!”

Catra winced a bit when hearing her former friend’s name. Scorpia had been nothing but kind to her from the start, and Catra had been the worst friend possibly imaginable. She felt awful. Scorpia deserved an apology – or twenty –, and then, maybe, she’d forgive her. Maybe they could actually be friends this time. Or maybe Scorpia wouldn’t want the person that hurt her back in her life, and that would be okay, too, despite the sting Catra felt when she thought about it. What mattered was that Scorpia was happy, no matter what she would choose – just like it had been with Adora.

Catra was done making everyone miserable – herself included.

“Update Scorpia on wha-” Glimmer started, then stopped in mid-sentence. “On second thought, I don’t think I even want to know.”

Entrapta blinked, then eyed Bow and Glimmer.

“Speaking of, you two are also interestingly close today. Amount of touching in comparison to the last couple of days increased by about twenty percent. That brings us pretty close to a hundred percent so far! I don’t think Glimmer has stopped holding onto your arm since you two entered the room... Should I write that down? I’m going to write that down.” She thought about the best way to word it for a moment. “There appears to be a chance that travelers will develop an increased need for physical contact while in space, as indicated by four different research subjects.”

There was a moment of very awkward silence as everyone but Wrong Hordak blushed scarlet and tried to avoid eye contact with the person they were sitting with... but Catra didn’t move from where she was sitting, and Glimmer still didn’t let go of Bow’s arm.

—

In the end, it was Adora that broke the silence as she cleared her throat and looked directly at Glimmer and Bow.

“Entrapta’s kind of right. You two do seem even more attached at the hip today than usual.“

They looked very cozy. It was pretty cute.

Glimmer had to bite back a comment about how Adora was really one to talk, with Catra sitting on her lap and all.

Over the course of the last few days, Catra had slowly moved closer and closer to Adora during meals – which had been blatantly obvious to anyone but Adora – until on the prior day, Catra had carefully touched her arm, and Adora had pulled her a little closer, which the brunette had taken as a signal that they maybe could go back to the way they used to be. Her initial shyness had melted away from her now, and she’d gone from sitting next to her friend to straight up planting herself in Adora’s lap today. The blonde hadn’t complained one bit.

“Did something happen?” Adora asked when neither of them replied.

Glimmer‘s semi-good mood disappeared instantly as she remembered the previous night. Her mouth went dry. Her voice was incredibly monotone as she spoke.

“Nothing, I just... had a nightmare,” she said.

“Right. One,” Bow murmured, glancing at his best friend worriedly.

She immediately elbowed him in the ribs for that.

Adora already had enough on her plate as it was, there was no need to worry her further, especially with something as silly as a couple of nightmares.

“But I’m all better now.”

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but apparently it was convincing enough for Adora to not dig deeper.

Catra kept quiet, but gave the Queen a sympathetic, encouraging look that made Glimmer certain the brunette knew what it felt like.

All things considered, Catra had definitely had it way worse than Glimmer on Prime’s ship. Glimmer shuddered at the thought of being robbed of her free will, of being forced to fight the people she loved.

Didn’t that mean that Glimmer was just being a baby that was upset for no reason? If Catra could cope with that, why couldn’t Glimmer even calm herself long enough to let go of Bow’s arm?

She closed her eyes and tried to keep herself from shaking. It didn’t work very well.

Apparently guessing where Glimmer‘s mind went, Catra coughed a bit and spoke up.

“Sparkles, listen, I... I know we’re pretty different, but nightmares always suck, no matter how bad they are, and I don’t think they can be compared anyway because different people are afraid of different things. It’s good that you have someone there to comfort you.” She snuggled against the crook of Adora’s neck. “But I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better.”

“I... thank you.” Glimmer’s smile felt less fake now. Bow nodded at Catra appreciative as he put an arm around his best friend. Adora was thankfully way too distracted by the brunette purring against her chest to really listen to what they were talking about. It was better that way. “What about you guys? How did you sleep?”

“Good. Great actually.” Adora beamed. “I don’t think I’ve slept this good in years.”

Since she’d left the Horde, to be precise.

“Yeah, me too. I... really missed sleeping next to you,” Catra mumbled, blushing.

“What do you mean, ‘missed’?” Glimmer raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before?”

“Pretty much every day before I left.” Adora grinned smugly. “She couldn’t sleep without me.”

“Oh.”

...that actually explained a lot – especially the time Adora had climbed into Glimmer’s bed because she hadn’t been used to sleeping alone. She hadn’t just meant that referring to the fact that she’d been sharing her room with so many other cadets before. She also hadn’t been used to sleeping alone in her bed, because she’d shared it with Catra for so long before leaving the Horde.

Catra blushed even more, and her first instinct was to get defensive and deny it... but then she didn’t. She’d promised herself to be a little more open with her emotions, after all.

“It started back when we were kids, actually... and then we got so used to it that we never stopped. The other cadets always said we could give my bed to someone else because I never slept there anyway.” Catra shrugged and laughed. Adora looked at her in surprise... but then her expression melted into a soft smile. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been this happy. “I was losing my mind without you...”

“Being apart from you wasn’t easy for me either.”

Catra bit her lip.

“If I’d just come with you when you asked me to, none of this would have happened. I’m so sorry.”

Adora squeezed her hand and kept her voice down when she started speaking.

“Don’t get me wrong, everything that happened really, really sucked... but I think it kind of needed to happen. Even when we were so close back at the Horde, there was so much standing between us... so many things we didn’t talk about, so many things we never realized about the other, and we both had issues that we had to work through back then. ...that, and we started being an ‘us’ so early on that we needed some time away from each other to learn who we are separately.”

She’d been thinking about that a lot lately.

For a second, Catra was back on Adora’s bed at the Horde, sitting back to back with her best friend, telling her that she wouldn’t know who she’d be without her.

She knew, now.

That Catra kind of sucked... she’d hurt others, and she’d been hurt, until finally, she’d broken down and reflected on everything she’d done, and then she’d cried and drowned herself in regret and guilt. Now, she finally really knew who she was... and who she wanted to be. Now, she would learn from her mistakes, and she would be better.

“We needed to grow apart so we could grow back together,” she whispered when she understood, and it hurt and it sucked because it meant that even if they’d left together, everything still wouldn’t have been fine – but at least it also meant that everything that had happened in the past few years hadn’t happened completely in vain, even though she still wished things had been different. And maybe they could be fine again now. Or better, at the very least. “I’ve made so many mistakes and hurt so many people...”

Adora hugged her best friend from behind.

“These days are over. And now you’ve got all the time in the universe to be better.”

“And I will be. I promise.” Catra smiled softly and squeezed her hand as she snuggled against her.

Bow and Glimmer just gave each other a knowing look while Entrapta was rambling into her voice recorder again.

After a while, Catra looked up at the others and grinned.

“Now that we’ve unveiled my deepest, darkest secret... you guys have got to have some more silly Adora-stories, right?”

Glimmer laughed and cracked her knuckles.

Bow’s and Glimmer’s relationship with Catra was still strained for several reasons... but she was slowly starting to grow on them, now that they could see she was truly changing. She was almost fun to be around.

“Oh, you bet we do.”

Adora sighed.

“...oh no. ”

#catradora #glimbow #adora #catra #glimmer #bow #glimbow centric #spop #she ra #entrapta #best friend squad #my works #my writing #fic type: tons of fluff with a little bit of angst #friendly teasing #spop season five #Catradora and Glimbow are both very in love #and Adora is the only one that’s still in denial at this point #everyone else has come to terms with their feelings and just isn’t ready to confess yet #best friend squad bonding – IN SPACE #Adora is a terrible cook #and everyone knows it #nobody ever recovered from her first attempt #I love Wrong Hordak but I didn’t really know what to do with him in this fic I’m sorry

[mhdiaries]

Classroom Cleo de Nile & Ghoulia Yelps Mad Science Class Journal

Today was the dreaded “Choosing of Partners for Group Projects” although it could just be me that dreads it. I guess it is because there always seems to be a fight to see who gets to be my partner. I suppose that is an arrogant thing to write but it is true. In some ways it is flattering in other ways, not so much. Even Manny Taur goes out of his way to be nice to me. He is not exactly good at it, but he does try. Mr. Hackington decided this year to try and mitigate the chaos by putting all our names into a skull and drawing them out two at a time. There was some complaining about this new development until he finally said, “You get what you gets and you don’t pitch a fit!” My parents used to tell me that when I was a little ghoul, well probably not the way Mr. Hackington said it but he got his point across. Regardless, at least it keeps me from having to say “yes” to one classmate and “no” to the rest. 

Cleo complained the loudest about the new system until our names got pulled as partners... sigh... I love Cleo and she is my beast friend ever but I was really hoping for... well it does not matter. He got paired up with Frankie and I am sure they will do just fine. Normally having Cleo as a partner means... it means the extra credit work I usually do when I am working on a project by myself seems to be enough for both of us to an “A”. Cleo’s main functions include reminding me to do things I have already done and calling Deuce to bring us lunch or lattes. Not that I complain too much about that, and Deuce does have a way of keeping Cleo focused. She also insists on giving the final presentation, which usually goes well since she does command attention. This time though our assignment is to research the Science of Perfume, and then our final project will be to create our very own fragrance. I must say that I was completely surprised by Cleo’s enthusiasm for the project. I am not sure whether to be excited or frightened by this development. 

Finally a project worthy of my royal attention! I must say on past projects I have allowed Ghoulia to do the dragon’s share of the work but this is something I can really get my bandages wrapped around. When we still lived in Egypt, before “the difficulties”, one of my jobs was to oversee the royal perfumers. Nefera used to tell me that it was a job reserved for “a princess who would never become queen” but I didn’t care. While Nefera was in some dreadfully boring meeting about how much grain would be harvested for the year or where to build the next royal monument, I would go down and meet the trade caravans. They would be loaded with spices, oils and exotic flowers from the South and East, and the air was always filled with their fragrance. The royal perfumers and I would choose the best of everything to be had, then they would take the ingredients back to their perfumery and work their magic. I always wanted to join them as they cooked, ground and mixed the different ingredients to make perfume and scented oils, but this was looked upon as a task beneath a princess, so I could only watch. Now that I have a chance to get my hands dirty, so to speak, I can’t wait to get started. 

I have been pleasantly surprised by Cleo’s contributions to our project. She has really taken the dragon by the horns and unlike past projects together, I have had to “run” to keep up with her. Her enthusiasm and deadication to the project are quite refreshing and she has filled my in box with recipes and suggestions. So for the first time in, well, ever, I am feeling like the “weak link” in an academic setting. I find myself not entirely liking it, which makes me feel just a tiny bit selfish and unneeded. Yes, I know that this is completely illogical, but what if it becomes a habit? Will I lose my place in the group if my brainpower is no longer needed?... #DepressingThought

Ghoulia seems to be off her game lately. Usually she’s the zombie equivalent to a ball of energy when it comes to these projects, but lately she’s gone completely passive on me. It’s starting to scare me, and not in a good way. I admit to being more than a bit self-absorbed, but I can always tell when something is really wrong with one of my friends. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she was fine. I know better than to press her on it, or she’ll just retreat into her brain’s fortress of solitude and not come out for days. I suppose I’ll just wait until she’s ready to talk, but I really want her input. She’s my beast friend, and I want us to have fun together on this project. 

I told my mom I did not feel well today and stayed home from school. It was not a lie, but it was not because of a physical ailment, either. Cleo called me several times, but I chose not to answer my iCoffin. I mostly stayed in bed and then I thought maybe I really was getting sick since I did not feel like eating and could not generate enough excitement to read the newest issue of Dead Fast. Apparently my absence was noted, and the cavalry descended on my house after school. I heard the doorbell ring and then I heard the front door open. The voices of Cleo, Frankie, Lagoona, Draculaura and Clawdeen all called out to my mother, “We’re here!” I could smell the aroma of baking cookies drifting out of the kitchen - I thought she gave in to my request to stay home a little too easily. They all headed to the kitchen except for Cleo. I heard her heading down the hall toward my room - I knew it was Cleo because she has a very distinctive gait. She got to my door, knocked once and walked in. “All right, ghoul friend, what, in the name of Bast’s cats is going on with you?” I said nothing was wrong with me but Cleo was in one of her “royal moods”, and I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was going to pester me until I gave her an answer, so I did. I told her how I felt about my role on the project and how I was afraid that my intellectual abilities were the only reason that she and the rest of the ghouls wanted me around. Cleo just stood there staring at me with the strangest look in her eyes.

For a moment I could not decide if she was on the verge of being angry or sad. Then she simply spun on a heel, stepped to my door and yelled down the hall, “Ghoulia’s room - NOW!” The ghouls got to my room in a blink albeit with mouths full of freshly baked cookies. Cleo pointed at Frankie whose mouth seemed to be less full of cookie than the others, “Quickly, when you think of Ghoulia what’s the first thing that comes to mind?” Frankie sparked and said, “She’s kind and helpful!” Then Lagoona said I was “trustworthy and sincere”, Draculaura said I was “funny and sweet” and Clawdeen said I was “brave and determined.” Finally Cleo looked at me and said, “Notice anything in those descriptions that was missing?” I hung my head, a little embarrassed and a lot encouraged. “Now we are going back to the kitchen to eat more cookies, you could join us if you’re feeling up to it... oh and you better be in class tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do.” It turns out that my mother’s cookies are a miracle cure. Who knew? 

Now that Ghoulia is out of her funk, we’ve been able to make some progress. I found several trunks at home filled with jars of oils, extracts and spices. Nearly all of them are still labeled. Probably should be careful with the ones that are not... I seem to remember some were rather volatile when mixed with certain other ingredients. Unfortunately, I could not find any of my old recipes, so this will truly require real experimentation. 

Experiment Notes

Batch #1

Top notes of leather - old gym shoe leather - with a sweaty angst-like finish. It is a smell reminiscent of the odor that emanates from the boys’ locker room after summer football practices. FAIL

Batch #2

Complex floral notes of troll cabbage and broccoli with none too subtle undertones on burnt microwave popcorn. It was quite... breathtaking and also Mr. Hackington’s favorite. FAIL

Batch #3

It smelled like cheese at first then spoiled milk. Disgusting. FAIL

Batch #4 

A frightfully woodsy scent, mysterious yet approachable and our favorite by far. It also hardened in the beaker like cement. We may have discovered a way to create scented construction material but as a perfume - FAIL

Batch #5

Eau de Pit of Goblin Arm. FAIL

Batch #6

Two words - wet werewolf. FAIL

Batch #8

We used an unmarked bottle from Cleo’s collection. It was an odorless black elixir but when we mixed it with vanilla, juniper berry and patchouli oil it opened a portal to another dimension that sucked in half of our experiments before we could put a stopper in the beaker. Cleo blamed the patchouli. FAIL

BATCH #13

Lovely top, middle and base notes - check.

Accentuates rather than overopowers - check, check

Would we wear it ourselves? - check, check, check

Perfection!

Final Grade - A+

Best. Lab project. Ever.

#monster high #monster high diary #Ghoulia Yelps #Cleo de Nile #mad science #monster high journal

[bubblyani]

Holding in Green

(Adam Sackler x Reader)

An Adam Sackler One Shot

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Swearing

Request: i don’t know if u are taking requests but, if u are, could u do a Adam S. being jealous? xx @hidingp​

Author’s Note: Yes this is a jealous Adam Sackler fic but full of so much fluff I was floating in it. Just wanna love the man so freakin much. Hope y’all enjoy!

“You wanna talk about what happened tonight?” You asked, giving a knowing look to Adam.The french fry remained in between your fingers a lot longer than it should.

“What do you mean?”

He may have sounded nonchalant, but his eyes knew exactly what you meant.

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

(A few hours ago)

The rhythmic beat of the hiphop track echoed in the background while the group of dancers waited in the wings off stage. Your eyes followed each of them, enter the stage one by one. They moved in sync, and you made sure they did. When it finally was your queue, you made your entrance with a bang.

That was when you saw him.

In the audience drowning in darkness, Adam Sackler was visible to you more than anyone else. When your eyes met, he smiled brightly, giving a small yet silly wave. A wave only the two of you would enjoy. Unable to contain your joy, you blew your friend a kiss, incorporating it to your act with professionalism as you proceeded to dance with motivation. Your friendship with Adam Sackler was quite the interesting one. 

The first time you met him, it was during a rehearsal for a play he was in. Simple choreography was a necessity and your friend who was assigned to it had an emergency. Offering your helping hand as the substitute, all you wanted to do was be helpful. Adam understood your clear intentions, and though he was professional, he could not help but engage in conversations with you throughout the entire session. It was inevitable for the two of you to click. When you weren’t given the chance to sub anymore, Fate was kind to both of you with having the both of you run into each other in various instances. The friendship blossomed and their petals were strong enough to last. You respected him enough to offer him space without getting involved in his personal life if not disclosed with you. Having been burnt enough, you did not crave for unnecessary drama. Adam Sackler was a great friend to have. You both appreciated similar things and losing a great friendship was the last thing you hoped to do. 

He was eccentric, he was wild and dramatic, yet he was also sensitive. You could not help but adore him in a way which could not be defined. You adored his undying support to you and your dreams. Whichever performance you did, wherever and whenever, you would find him there, by chance or by invitation. He’d never miss it. Even this time, when you everyone else was too busy to even care, he showed up.

No wonder you couldn’t contain your inner joy. If anyone ever paid too much attention, they’d probably call this boyfriend behavior. But that mere notion was ludicrous in itself.

But anyways, back to the dance.

You felt your body set itself on fire as you led the group behind you. The choreography was packed and intense, with very little time to stop and even breath. You felt powerful, you felt sexy.

The choreography grew heated as one of the male dancers took you by the hand, guiding you to his arms. Bodies pressed against one another, they rolled to rhythm. The onstage chemistry was off the charts. You heard the audience scream in ecstasy. It was successful. Your eyes swiftly moved to see Adam’s approval. Was he impressed?

Instead you merely found him siting there, giving the coldest look you’ve ever seen. You would have delved into concern but there was simply no time as the group moved together once again, finally coming to a perfect finish.

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

“There you are!”

You squealed as the backstage doors burst open, and he swooped in first, welcoming you with a growl and a hug. You were touched in an overdose. You lingered in his arms with happiness. Seeing him to be the first to get up and applaud with enthusiasm, made you happier to even begin with.

“Awww...I’m so glad you came” you said, glancing at him up and down. Donning a smart suit, he even dressed up for the occasion, looking more handsome than ever. The crowds may have mixed in, but for the two of you it seemed irrelevant.

“Oh my god...” Adam began, “you were just fucking in-”

“Y/N!!”

A group of your older choreographer mentors surrounded the two of you. As they gushed out their sea of compliments, you noticed Adam beam with pride for you. He was appropriate in every way.  He was polite to them, introducing himself promptly and being the perfect guest. You could say you were equally feeling prideful.

 “And there he is...our other star!” One of them cried out as your dance partner from earlier joined in. Tanned and muscular, he flashed you a bright smile.

“We did it Y/N!” He said excitedly, moving into give you a hug.

“So what’s everyone saying?” you asked him

“Oh man...Our dance...” he said with such passion,”they are so digging the chemistry...” “I don’t know, I mean...was there any chemistry though?”

You both turned to Adam’s nonchalant yet snide remark. Towering before you both, he looked unwelcoming with his hands folded. A sheer contrast from earlier.

“Ah...where are my manners? Dave, I want you to meet my friend Adam” you said, “He’s an actor”  adding with pride. With a genuine smile, Dave extended his hand to Adam, “Hey man”

“Hey!”

Feigning enthusiasm, Adam shook his hand, giving it with a squeeze. And by Dave’s uncomfortable expression, you could tell he was squeezing it too tight.

“And Adam...this is Dave, one of the most promising dancers around” “Oh Y/N stop..” Dave shook his head with a chuckle, “...that’s not true”

“Yeah Y/N...I’ve seen better dancers” Adam certainly came in strong with these snarky remarks.

The atmosphere was getting tense and awkward. You were surprised to the fullest.

“Oookay...” Dave began, “...anyways, you coming to the after party?” He asked.

“Yes!”

“No!”

With raised eyebrows, you looked at Adam. “You don’t wanna come?” You asked him, to which he just shook his head. “Nah...Not in the mood”

The enthusiastically polite man from earlier had suddenly transformed into a child. Concerned, you knew you won’t have any peace of mind if you just let this go.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna take a rain check this time, Dave”

“Aww man, everyone’s gonna miss you though”  Dave said with disappointment, “...but all good babe”

He moved in for one more hug, only to be interrupted by Adam, who pulled you towards him to make room for a random stranger, who in the end, did not walk their way. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Fuck!”

Shivering, Adam jumped up and down. “It’s so chilly tonight” he sniggered as they walked along on the pavement.

“Hmmm”

Your reply was flat. Staring into the distance, you walked alongside him. Adam looked at you with concern.

“You cold?”He asked, even proceeding to take his jacket off to offer you.

“Hmmm”

You answered, haven’t yet noticed it as you kept walking. It was just strange. The moment they exited the theatre, there he was being his usual self. Trying to figure it all out, you found yourself to be very quiet.

Until you felt his hand on your arm.

“You okay?”

He stepped in front of you, waking you from your thoughts to reality. Suddenly you felt the extra chill in the wind, his jacket over your shoulders , and a rumble in your stomach.

“Actually...I’m kinda hungry”You admitted, automatically giving him his jacket back. Chuckling, you pressed your lips, “I just realized I didn’t eat anything” you said, your hands digging in the pocket of your hoodie, “...and they promised some food at the after party so-”

“Shit!” Adam cried out loud, holding his head. You watched the giant figure slouch with guilt.

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No! it’s okay”

“Nope! Not acceptable. Come on!” 

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

(Present)

It was on him tonight, he said. Order anything, he said as he confidentially handed you the diner menu. So you ordered the two things you couldn’t live without: French fries and a milkshake.

“How are the fries?”

He asked, watching you stuff yourself. You nodded.

“Good. I was really hungry” you replied with a full mouth. Finally swallowing them, you smiled warmly, “Thank you”. 

A coy smile was incited as you both shared silence. 

“You were amazing tonight, you know.” Adam began, making you cover your face shyly, “You’re lying” you said.

“No really, I’m serious” sitting forward, he kept his elbows on the table, “No one...no one else was upto your level”

You were sipping in your milkshake , yet warmth spread over your body as it always did whenever he complimented you. His company was soothing in a way you couldn’t comprehend. Therefore, you couldn’t figure out the disturbance in the atmosphere tonight.

“You wanna talk about what happened tonight?” You asked, giving a knowing look to Adam.The french fry remained in between your fingers a lot longer than it should.

“What do you mean?”

He may have sounded nonchalant, but when his glance caught yours, you could tell his eyes knew exactly what you meant.

Exhaling deeply, you ate the french fry.  You licked off the salt off your fingers before you began to speak.

“Adam, do you know what I love about our friendship?”

His nose twitched upon hearing the word “friendship”. Uncomfortably , he answered with a mere shake of his head.

“Communication...” you said, “talking to you was always something I loved doing. I swear...” chuckling, you continued, “I can talk to you for...hours” you said, watching a smile form in the corner of his lips, “and I know, whatever problem we have...we could always figure it all out that way”

Nodding, Adam kept staring at your plate of half finished fries. Noticing it, you pushed your plate towards him.

“What happened with you and Dave?”

You asked with genuine curiosity, “I mean...before you were so nice and normal. And suddenly...just-”

“I don’t like him, that’s it” Adam snapped as he interrupted you.

“But why?”

“Y/N....” addressing you sternly, he continued, “You don’t need reasons to dislike certain people, you told me that once”

“Yeah...but why him? I mean...that weird guy down at the bodega..I can understand, but-”

Pausing, suddenly realization came over you. The way he turned cold watching you and Dave onstage. His snappy behavior around him. His deliberate attempt to avoid him hugging you. You gasped.

“Unless...” you muttered, “you’re jealous?”

It came out of you so softly, for you couldn’t believe it for one second. Running his hand through his hair, Adam growled.

“The moment that motherfucker put his hands on you” he said through gritted teeth, “...the way you guys were onstage. It just-“ You scoffed for you still could not fathom it.

“But I’ve danced with so many people onstage.Why now-”

“IT’S CAUSE I HAVE FUCKING FEELINGS FOR YOU, OKAY??”

Adam cried out, making you drop your jaw in shock.

Realizing his outburst, he looked down in embarrassment, “Fucking shit” He muttered.

A loud shush of disapproval was targeted towards your booth by an older waitress passing by. With an inaudible apology at her, you looked back at Adam.

This was definitely unexpected. But in a way, was it something you longed for in your heart all along?

“Wow...” You muttered softly, “I...I did not know that” “I’m...” pausing, Adam’s voice broke with vulnerability “I’m in Awe of you Y/N” He said, as his eyes twinkled upon looking at you, “And to even hear you calling me your friend or what we have a friendship is just...” clicking his tongue, he sighed, “...it’s sickening! It’s fucking hard”

Seeing him like this was nowhere familiar. And it broke your heart. You didn’t know of the effect you had in him. You never thought he’d think of you this way. And thus, you never considered feeling the same for him in return.

Until now.

Slowly getting up, you caught his full attention as you walked towards his side of the booth. Sitting next to him, you moved close enough, daring yourself as you slid over to his lap. His response was natural. The way his hand slithered over to your waist and the way he welcomed your weight on top of him.

Though it felt comfortable, you suddenly felt your heartbeat increase. Wrapping one arm around his neck, you lovingly gazed into his eyes with such intensity. You stroked his cheek, hoping to drive away the suffering caused cause of you.

Only one way to know, you thought.

Only one way to feed this aching curiosity.

Leaning in, your lips felt like magnets as they glued in to his in a tender kiss.

Tenderness turned into new found passion as he kissed you back. And man, it felt so perfect. So perfect that you found yourself getting addicted to a brand new kind of high. Breaking away, your foreheads touched to recover. “Always wanted to do that” you breathed against his lips. “No shit” he replied. Holding his face with both hands, you looked at with seriousness.

“All that you said, I get it. Really... I do. And it’s just so fucked up. It’s totally fair cause you had no clue what I was thinking. But...I want you to know...you don’t need to feel that anymore”

“Yeah?” He asked with desperation.

“Yeah...” you nodded, running your fingers through his dark raven locks, “There’s no need to hold in that green monster anymore, Adam” you whispered,

“Cause I’m yours”

A joyous smile filled his face before he kissed you passionately once again. You swore you forgotten your place until you heard the same waitress clear her throat with annoyance, forcing you both to pull away with frustration.

“Do you uh...” you began, twirling his hair around your finger, “...maybe wanna stay over tonight?“ Speechless, Adam merely nodded frantically, allowing his lips to reunite with yours, further sealing in the newly blossomed romance that had replaced the friendship that stood strong before. ——————————————————

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