#Throws doodles at you until I finish another proper piece

[4arconinoma]

Love this Animals. The Brine

[thebeautyoffanfics]

hello!💙💙i hope im not bothering you but may i get a tsukasa or mitsuba x reader where their s/o loves to draw but never lets them see and one day they steal their s/o sketchbook and dont see any drawings of them and the boys are a lil dissapointed but their s/o has a secret sketcbook that they always keep with them filled with the boys portraits?? it would be rlly cute!!(feel free to ignore tho!)💙💜

tsukasa yugi x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader

a/n: no worries, you aren’t bothering me at all!! This is a super cute prompt, so thank you so much for requesting! (i love writing mitsuba too,,, just gotta love the sharp-tongued, short-tempered characters <3)

warnings:

word count: 1,471

Tsukasa Yugi <3

He thinks the fact that you can draw is super cool!! Probably more so than you do, to be completely honest- he’s extremely enthusiastic about it, but that also means he’s extremely annoying about it.

Lots of “let me look, let me look!!” “I wanna seeeeeeee,” “(Y/N), pleaaaaseee, what’re you drawinggggg?”

“Tsukasa, I love you, I love you very much. But, I promise you, if you don’t shut up and let me draw in peace-”

“:((“

So, of course, if you don’t let him see it, our gremlin of a boy is going to look through it one way or another. Pestering you relentlessly didn’t work, trying to slip it casually into a conversation didn’t work, so! You leave him no option!

One day, when you’re minding your business in class, Tsukasa checks your locker. Maybe, just maybe, you left it in there?

Hmm… empty- next stop!! Bookbag!

His eyes practically lit up, his expression excited, practically screaming “found it!!”

Tsukasa would open the sketchbook, silently wondering what on earth you could have drawn. His only experience in art was… well- with things that weren’t intended for art. It wasn’t ever proper “art” either. Just a lot of smearing. But anyway-

A part of him sort of hoped it would be something with him. Maybe even a little doodle, it didn’t have to be a fully colored, lined, amazing piece. Just little doodles, cos you loved him so much, and he infested your mind like the little parasite he is… y’know….

So, as he flipped through the pages, admiring your style- amazed with every little doodle, every little pencil marking, every little detail- he kept an eye out for anything that could have even vaguely resembled him. Yet, once he reached the end, he was rather certain that there was nothing. Tsukasa felt a bit disappointed, pouting despite the fact that you weren’t there to see it.

“Tell me how I knew you were up to something,” You sighed, looking at the boy seated next to your bookbag, the last pages of your sketchbook flipped open. He ignored the comment, placing your sketchbook to the side, then hugging you. You returned the hug, giving him a confused glance.

“What? It’s nothing incredible, but was it that bad-? I don’t even know everything that’s in that, so-”

“You didn’t draw me :(((“

“You didn’t ask me to???”

Still, you couldn’t help but laugh, well aware of the other sketchbook you had stored in the more secure part of your bookbag. Patting his back, then letting go of the hug, you bent down and grabbed your sketchbook and bag. Replacing the sketchbook he had flipped through, you then reached in and grabbed the other.

Somewhat embarrassed, yet know he already found out about your artistic abilities and would probably be glad to see himself, you handed him the sketchbook. “I’ll have you know, I’m not exactly overjoyed with you right now. But, since you’re a sneak, I’ll let you look at that one.”

Tsukasa opened the sketchbook with renewed energy, excited to see what was inside it. Was it him?! Did he actually infest your mind?!! Was he a good model??

Uncharacteristically, his face was slightly warm as he looked over the first page. It started off with a fully finished drawing of him- a very strong start, if he did say so himself. Not only was it him, it was awesome.

He flipped through the rest of the pages, happiness and excitement practically radiating off of him. You could have sworn you saw his eyes sparkling.

“THAT’S SO COOL, (Y/N)!!” Tsukasa would yell after shutting the sketchbook, throwing his arms around you happily, making sure that the sketchbook didn’t get damaged as he did so. “You did draw me! You drew a lot of me!!”

“Ahah- yeah. You’re… cute, after all. Why wouldn’t I draw my boyfriend?”

Mitsuba Sousuke <3

Nosey little dude, but on a more casual level than Tsukasa.

“I’ve shown you my pictures, so you should show me your drawings.”

“That makes sense,”

“So, show me.”

“Nope!”

“(Y/N)-”

Though amusing, Mitsuba will start to pout after a while. “Tch- it’s not like I wanted to see it anyway. It’s probably lame.”

“Awesome then! That doesn’t make me want to show you any more than I previously did~!”

Insert Mitsuba sticking his tongue out at you-

Still, Mitsuba does understand where you’re coming from. After all, he never shows you pictures he’s taken of you. Therefore! It’s only logical that you wanted to draw his cute face!! He muttered this, crossing his arms, yet pretending that it was no big deal to him. Nope, those little comments and attempted glances were nothing-

“Mmh? You’re cute, yes.”

“That’s not what I- whatever, pervert. It’s clear now. You don’t want to show me, ‘cos there’s raunchy art in there! Pervert! Creepy, you’re so creepy-”

“Then aren’t you a pervy creep for wanting to look in my sketchbook?”

“I-”

Mitsuba may have not talked to you for the rest of the day- but it’s fiiiine, he’s fiiiiiiine.

Especially since, by the end of the next day, Mitsuba passed your locker, planning on returning to the class from a bathroom break. As he glanced over at your locker, not fully shut because of your bookbag shoved into it, an idea crossed his mind. It wouldn’t take long… a little peak wouldn’t hurt. Just to make sure his s/o wasn’t a pervert, of course! Not out of personal interest!

So, he grabbed your bag, rummaging through it until he found a well-used sketchbook. His interest peaked, as he grabbed it, opening it up and flipping through the pages.

Some of the pieces were similar to pictures he had given to you, but he didn’t spot anything of him. Sure, your art was impressive, and he was rather content finally getting to see it, but-

But where was his cute face?? Not even his name??? No dreamy “(Y/N) Sousuke” written? Nothing.

Well, it’s not like he cared anywa-

“Really, Mitsuba? You needed to use the bathroom?”

“AH-” He yelped, shutting your sketchbook, as if that would make it seem like he wasn’t just flipping through the pages in slight awe. “Shut up, pervert! I went to the bathroom, I just- you were being suspicious.”

“By drawing?”

“YEs.”

You laughed lightly, though embarrassed as you took the sketchbook from him, putting it back into your bookbag. To be completely honest, your heart was beating a bit faster, slightly nervous that he found your art ugly. It wasn’t anything in comparison to his pictures, you thought..

And, when you turned around and caught a glimpse of his slightly disappointed face, your heart beat even faster. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He said, somewhat defensively- well, that much was normal.

“Sorry, it’s probably disappointing- I know my art isn’t the greatest, but it’s definitely improved over time. There are things I need to study, but-”

“Hey, don’t assume I’m upset with your art, dummy. It’s…” He blushed slightly, looking away from you and shoving his hands in his pockets, “it’s really cool. I’m impressed.”

“Then why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.”

You raised your eyebrows, making Mitsuba flush further, opening his mouth as he thought of what to say in response to that expression. “I just- well, you were weird about it, so I figured there was something about me- something weird or suspicious. But, it’s all perfectly normal.”

It took a moment for you to get behind his words- but, after getting behind Mitsuba’s extremely indirect way of saying things, you understood what he meant. He wanted you to draw him. After processing that, you bit your lip, wondering if you should actually show him your other sketchbook… a glimpse at his slight pout, though it was now confusion at your conflicted expression, you turned around, rummaging through your bookbag.

Then, you pulled out another sketchbook, and pushed it against his chest. “Since you’re so insistent. Just go ahead and look through it, I guess.”

It was Mitsuba’s turn to raise his eyebrows, as he took the sketchbook, and opened it up. His face burned, as he flipped through the pages. They were… filled with him. It genuinely made his heart pound, looking at the array of doodles, line art, and fully finished pieces- occasionally, a small heart or smiley face would be doodled alongside them. If he didn’t find your art incredible before, he definitely did now. Of course, he’d never admit it to your face, but his expression was enough for you to understand.

“A-ah… gross- idiot. Of course, I should have known a pervert like you would draw such a cute face. It’s obvious.”

“Right, right. Honestly, just give me a penny each time you call me a pervert, I’ll be rich in no time-”

[immacaria]

Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

_____________________________________________________________

It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Set after lxc first saw that bunny painting and accidentally complimented it

I was not planning to spend so long on that painting, and in fact it wasn't even part of the original plan for this story but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

It’s not that Lan Xichen wants to talk to Nie Huaisang. He’s tried before, and all he’s ever gotten out of his attempts is the other boy looking at him with big, frightened eyes and refusing to say more than two words. There’s a reason he doesn’t like his fiancé, as he’s told Lan Wangji quite a few times lately, and that reason is Nie Huaisang’s absolute lack of anything to make him interesting.

Lan Wangji, each time, just gives him that look. He doesn’t bother saying anything. Doesn’t need to. His silences carry entire conversations. In this case, the silence speaks of a painting of rabbits on which, even weeks later, Lan Xichen’s eyes still linger whenever he sees it.

And he sees it often.

Lan Wangji made sure of it. 

He asked his uncle to help him display it in his room, where it is visible by any guest he might have. Which mostly means Lan Qiren, who doesn’t care, and Lan Xichen, who knows this is a personal attack against him. All because he tried to be nice to his brother by complimenting a painting that’s just…

A painting which is…

It’s just so…

But that’s the problem, of course. Lan Xichen can’t even bring himself to think that the painting is mediocre, because it’s not. It’s better than anything he’s ever managed to paint. The style shows a certain lack of formal learning, and it is obvious that it was made quickly, but somehow that’s part of what makes it so good. There’s a freedom to the lines that Lan Xichen could only dream to achieve.

He knows. He’s tried to reproduce the painting, in vain. His own attempts aren’t bad, but they feel stiff and heavy compared to the original.

Of course, it’s normal for Lan Xichen to find his own work lacking. He’s only just seventeen, and humble enough to accept there are great masters in this world whose level he will only reach after decades of hard work. It gives him something to strive for, and he rather enjoys the challenge of it all.

But being inferior to Nie Huaisang stings.

Everyone knows that Qinghe Nie isn't a sect for artists. Nie Mingjue shows polite interest when Lan Xichen speaks about painting or music, and he knows just enough to say if something is generally good or bad, but that's it. He doesn't get colours and lines, he can rarely tell one melody from another unless they're different enough, and he clearly doesn't care. So when Nie Mingjue has mentioned in the past that his little brother fancies himself an artist, Lan Xichen has assumed that just means a few childish doodles in the margin of his studies. It's the most anyone would expect from a disciple if Qinghe Nie. 

And Lan Xichen likes Qinghe Nie and respects it and he would scold anyone who would call them a butcher's sect, but… but it makes no sense for Nie Huaisang to come from there and be capable of making a painting like that. 

So that's what motivates Lan Xichen to give his crybaby of a fiancé another chance. Not his uncle's increasingly stern looks, not Lan Wangji's petulant attitude. No, it's just plain old curiosity. 

That and something he won't admit in a thousand years, not even to himself. The hope that maybe, just maybe, he has more to look forward to than a lifetime tied to a blubbering idiot who acts terrified of him. If there is any chance that Nie Huaisang is more than he appears… 

But hope is a dangerous thing, so Lan Xichen guards himself against it. In a world such as the one they live in, marriages are rarely happy, arranged ones even less, those of rulers of sects least of all. Of the leaders of the Five Great Sect, which hasn’t had a problematic marriage?

Still, a chance must be given, for the sake of fairness. So when one day Lan Xichen spots Nie Huaisang alone (he's always alone) in one of the gardens, a pile of papers at his side and a brush on his hand… He has to seize the occasion. 

After taking his leave from the boys he was walking with, Lan Xichen directly goes to Nie Huaisang. His fiancé is so entranced in whatever he's doing that he doesn't notice him until Lan Xichen stops right next to his bench. In a second, Nie Huaisang gathers all the papers around him and gathers them against his chest, trying to hide them.

"May I sit with you?" Lan Xichen inquires, as if he doesn’t notice the other boy’s panic.

As always, Nie Huaisang looks up at him with the pitiful air of a startled rabbit, clutching his paper tight against his chest. Whatever he's been drawing must have smudged, which annoys Lan Xichen. To be so careless with one's work… 

"Lan gongzi may do as he pleases," he mutters, quickly looking down. "This is his garden." 

Lan Xichen sat down, careful to leave as much distance as possible between them, for propriety. He tries to peek at the sheets, but Nie Huaisang only holds them closer, wrinkling them and finishing to ruin everything. 

"Were you drawing, Nie gongzi ?" 

"I wasn't!" Nie Huaisang blatantly lies. "I swear I wasn't. I have far too much homework to be painting!" he claims with an awkward laugh. 

And if he has to lie, can't he at least be good at it? 

"That's too bad," Lan Xichen says, pretending he believes that. "I've been curious about Nie gongzi's art. Wangji showed me the piece Nie gongzi gifted him." 

"Oh, that," Nie Huaisang mutters, his eyes widening. "I'm surprised he didn't throw it away. It was silly, and it's not very good. The rabbits were too fat, and I should have placed them better on the paper. It's really bad, I'm ashamed I gave it as a gift. Lan er-gonzi must think I'm too bold, giving him something this bad."

Past the shock of hearing that painting so easily dismissed, Lan Xichen can't help a slight thrill that Nie Huaisang noticed the same problems as he did. It's easy to see that a piece of art is good. Slightly less so to know why it's good. But it takes an expert eye to find what can still be improved, even in something excellent. It speaks of real skill and good taste, rather than the simple stroke of luck he sometimes told himself the painting might have been.

"Wangji is actually very happy with it," Lan Xichen announces. "He had it hung in his bedroom." 

Nie Huaisang looks up at him, gaping in shock and mild horror rather than showing any of the pride Lan Xichen would have expected. It makes his usual annoyance flare up, but he forces it aside for once. 

"It is a good painting," he insists instead, hoping his tone is complimentary enough, while also not showing just how much he likes that painting. 

"Lan gongzi doesn't need to lie," Nie Huaisang mumbles. "I enjoy painting, but I'm not good, I know that. Father always said it was a waste of time and I should work harder on my cultivation." 

"Are you calling me a liar?" Lan Xichen remarks, still fighting to keep his annoyance in check. 

Nie Huaisang startles and throws him a terrified look. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… Lan gongzi didn't lie of course, Lan gongzi was just trying to be kind. It's, it's not necessary though. I know it's a silly hobby. I'm sorry I wasted time on this. I'll stop now and work harder so I don't bring more shame to Lan gongzi."

For a second, Lan Xichen hesitates. It's true that Nie Huaisang should focus more on his studies, especially since his grades are so bad and everyone knows he still doesn't have a golden core, which is shameful at his age. In fact, Lan Xichen half suspects that Nie Huaisang must have skipped classes of some sort to go paint those rabbits, for which he probably ought to be punished. 

But no matter what he's saying, Nie Huaisang is a good artist, if that piece with the rabbits is any indication. In any sect but Qinghe Nie, his skill would have been noticed, encouraged and nurtured. In fact, even for his sect it's odd that he hasn't received more attention. If his cultivation were better, his lack of skill there didn’t outweigh other accomplishments of his... It feels unfair, for lack of a better word. 

And so Lan Xichen is tempted to do something bad, and encourage Nie Huaisang’s talent. If he could produce a painting like that with nothing but his own taste and determination to guide him, Lan Xichen can't help but feel slightly eager to see what he might do with a few proper lessons. If he offers to teach Nie Huaisang, maybe he can learn in return how the other boy keeps his lines so light and pure.

But that's selfish of him, he figures. Lan Xichen only wants that because if they have this common ground, it will make their future marriage less painful. What's actually good for Nie Huaisang, he knows, is to improve his cultivation and work hard to catch up to others their age. It's just too shameful for a young master to be so bad he doesn't have a golden core. For the good of both their sects' reputation, Nie Huaisang needs to be more serious. 

"It might be best if Nie gongzi focused on what's important," Lan Xichen reluctantly agrees. “When your cultivation reaches an acceptable level, you can see about diverting your attention again to other occupations.”

Nie Huaisang sighs, deep and heartfelt, then nods miserably. He really is a pathetic boy, but force once Lan Xichen feels sorry for him rather than angry at his weakness. It’s a little sad that even when finally Nie Huaisang turns out to have some talent, it’s at something that he cannot pursue freely.

“I’ll let you be now,” Lan Xichen announces, quickly rising from the bench, uncomfortable with that newfound pity for this fiancé he still doesn’t want. “Do work hard in the future, or your brother will be disappointed.”

The other boy flinches at that, but Lan Xichen chooses to ignore it and leaves. All in all, it was a disappointing conversation that managed to do little but making him even more frustrated about Nie Huaisang.

And yet, maybe in the future, if Nie Huaisang gets his act together and finally achieves a decent level of cultivation…

Only time will tell, but Lan Xichen wouldn’t hate having someone to paint with.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 2 - Seed and Spark

I had no idea why Harry had reacted the way he did when he walked in on me and Niall almost kissing. As far as I was concerned, if he couldn’t bother to look at me in the class we had together, he had no right to an opinion regarding who I almost kissed.

Even if it was someone he was friends with.

I bit into the granola bar Millie had handed me--it was that time of night where I was not only drunk, but now I was hungry. It was either a granola bar or a tic tac that Millie found in her coat pocket. Naturally I opted for the granola bar.

“I just don’t understand him,” I complained, the liquor and late night were both getting to my head as I chewed. “Why does he have to say something weird like that? Now I have to overthink it until I die.” I let out a dramatic groan that reverberated against the walls of the classroom buildings we passed.

Campus was quiet this time of night--the only people out and about were either drunk kids heading back to their respective dorms, or the public safety officers patrolling the grounds to ensure that all of the drunk kids heading back to their respective rooms made it there in one piece.

Millie let out a snort. “You do not have to overthink it until you die. I vote you give him a proper word or two in the morning and then pretend it never happened.”

I took another bite of the chocolate chip goodness and thought for a minute. If only Harry would realize how dull and boring Quinn could be.

Sure, the girl was sweet, and she had killer hair and a knockout face. She was skinny and short and pretty much had that body that most girls dreamed of. Minus all of that going on in the looks department, Quinn Markos enjoyed lattes, romantic movies, and doodling her name in a pink gel pen. She was 20 years old.

I didn’t know what Harry saw in her. I didn’t know why he thought that of all the girls he knew, Quinn Markos would be a good recipient of his smirk and his green eyes and his time.

Sure, maybe I was a loud mouth and too outgoing for my own good. Maybe I was opinionated and energetic and maybe I was even a little bit of a show off. There were worse things a girl could be.

Millie followed me up the stairs to our building, swiping her ID card to gain our entry before we parted ways at the elevator. Millie lived on the 3rd floor, ditching me for the stairs as I watched the screen above the elevator count down from the fifth floor and finished the last bite of my granola bar.

When the doors opened, Harry stood inside, his hair somewhat messy and his black t-shirt looked more wrinkly than it had earlier. Perhaps he’d just finished banging my roommate before heading to his own flat.

“Hi,” I said through a full mouth, his eyes meeting mine as he stepped out. For a minute, it almost seemed like he was going to walk away without even speaking a word, but as I stepped into the elevator--my back to him--he spoke.

“Y’know--Niall is kind of a wanker,” he said suddenly, turning on his feet to face me.

I stared at him for a minute and swallowed, completely unsure of how to respond. “What makes you think that?”

He let out a breathy sigh and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I just know him, s’all.”

“Well, I’ll be the judge of his character,” I told him, crossing my arms in front of my chest as he stuck a foot in the crack of the elevator to keep the door from closing. Why was Harry Styles not running away from me as quickly as possible? Why was Harry Styles keeping the elevator on the ground floor?

“Are you--like--interested in him?”

He stared at me curiously, his eyes scanning over my face as I did the same to him. Sure--Niall might be attractive and funny--but the answer to his question was no, I’m not. But those weren’t the words that came out of my big mouth.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Maybe.” Did it bother him? If that was the case, I was definitely interested in Niall.

He let out a quiet scoff before shaking his head. “Have a good night, Harper.” He removed his foot from the door and turned, pushing open the main door and stepping into the night air as the elevator beeped it’s loud bell--warning me that if I didn’t press a button it would only become more angry.

I leaned forward and smacked the button for my floor, letting a sigh escape my lips. I didn’t know what bothered more: the fact that Harry seemed to have an opinion on my dating life despite the fact that he couldn’t tolerate me, or the fact that I’d finished the granola bar.

**

When I woke the next morning, Quinn was already awake and doing some form of yoga in the space between our beds. Her mat was rolled out and she had headphones in, presumably listening to some kind of nature sounds bullshit as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.

She pulled out her headphones when I stretched.

“Morning,” she smiled at me, her hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail. “Want to head to the dining hall when I’m done?”

I reached for my phone and opened it to a text from Millie, who had asked me the same question. “Sure,” I said. “Millie’s gonna tag along.”

She smiled and leaned over to roll up her mat before grabbing clothes from her closet to change into. Quinn had a passion for athleisure--you know, yoga clothes that you wear out in public so everyone knows you do yoga.

I hopped out of bed after texting Millie and found the baggy sweatshirt that permanently lived on my desk chair--pulling it over my head before I searched for a pair of leggings. After a few minutes of Quinn swiping on another layer of mascara, there was a knock on the door.

Quinn pulled it open, greeting Millie with her straight white teeth as she stepped aside to let her in. “Katie and Preston’s party was pretty good, no?”

“Yeah,” Millie shrugged, leaning against Quinn’s bed as I pulled my hair into a bun. The best thing about Saturdays at London Met was the pancake bar in the North dining hall and the fact that everyone--minus Quinn--looked just as hungover as I was.

We headed out of our room and into the elevator, riding it down before bracing for the fall wind outside.

“So I saw you talking with Niall Horan last night,” Quinn smirked at me as we walked. Despite the fact that Quinn was also wearing leggings and a zip up jacket, she looked much more put together than myself or Millie. “He’s definitely cute!”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I don’t know, he’s not really my type.”

“That’s rubbish,” Quinn laughed, throwing her head back and letting her ponytail bounce behind her. “He’s cute and smart and he’s on the footy team.”

He’s not Harry, though.

“He’s a player,” Millie defended for me as she walked beside us. “He’s slept with probably half of the girls in our year.”

“Oh come on,” Quinn giggled. “Afraid he’s got more experience than you?”

You see, maybe I had a reputation of being a flirt. Maybe there were guys that thought I’d hook up with them easily--but what Quinn (and the rest of London Met, minus Millie) didn’t know, is that Harper Coleman was still a virgin.

Millie, who’s mind went to the same place as mine, looked up at me with wide eyes. I shot her a look as if pleading for help, but she shook her head, almost as if to say you’re on your own.

“No,” I shook my head, willing to let Quinn believe my reputation. “I just don’t know if I could see us together.”

Because I’m in love with your boyfriend.

She left it at that, sticking her head into her phone as we walked to the dining hall. Once inside, she headed straight for the omelet station. Millie--a carb lover like myself--joined me as we waited in line for pancakes.

“Are you ever gonna tell people that you’re not as experienced as they think?” She mocked Quinn’s words, rolling her eyes at the thought.

I held a plate to my chest as I moved up in line. “Not now, that’s for sure. And who cares? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Millie groaned. “Remember before Preston and Katie started dating at the party before spring break last year? Preston told us he’d heard that you’d slept with four different guys on the football team!”

I bit my lip. I had no clue how the rumors got spread--I could count on one hand the guys that had gotten past first base here at London Met--and I could count on one hand the guys at home, as well. And the rumor wasn’t exactly that I was sleeping around, it just somehow got spread that I had spent a few nights with a few different guys.

Millie was much more worried than I was--I had long accepted the notion of people thinking things about me that weren’t true. When you grew up in a small town and with a neighbor like Harry Styles--who told everyone in year 3 that I kissed a frog--you just kind of got over that type of stuff.

When it was my turn in line, I got my pancakes, loaded them with butter and syrup (one of the most American meals they served on campus) and headed to find Quinn with Millie in tow. Of course, she was sat near the window with Harry beside her.

He looked up when I set my plate down but didn’t say anything.

“Those look good!” Quinn eyed the pancakes on my plate as she forked a bite of omelet into her mouth. Harry had a pancake and an omelet--but his pancake lacked syrup.

“Good morning, Harold,” Millie greeted with a stern tone.

Millie and Harry’s relationship was an interesting one. Harry definitely found her annoying--I think that just came with the territory of being my best friend. Despite that, however, Harry always seemed more interested in speaking with Millie than he did with me.

I’d gotten used to not taking it personally, but whenever Harry responded pleasantly to my friend, I was left with a pang of jealousy in my stomach.

“Good morning, Mildred,” he smirked.

Millie rolled her eyes and pretended to gag. “I take my back greeting,” she said matter-of-factly.

Quinn decided to fill us in on a paper she had to write this week--informing us that she’d need us all to not distract her. Harry mumbled some kind of sweet reassurance that I tried to block out as I ate--mindful to not chew with my mouth open (an awful habit I’d been trying to break my whole life).

Millie eventually got up for seconds, leaving me alone with the future Mr. and Mrs. Styled as they discussed what they wanted to do for their 8 month anniversary that was coming up in a few weeks.

“Movies and dinner is so typical, Harry!” Quinn cooed, earning a death stare from me as I finished off my breakfast.

“Well then you need to pick something, Quinnie!” Harry smiled at her, causing my insides to knot up.

“You could always go to a heavy metal concert,” I suggested, knowing neither of them would be remotely interested. “I heard Barron’s Landing has a good line up next month.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his plate as Quinn let out a laugh, clearly missing the lack of entertainment in my voice.

Just then, as if the universe was in need of a good laugh, Niall slid into Millie’s empty seat with a grin on his face. “Well good morning, Harper.”

“Hello,” I bit out slowly, instantly feeling Harry tense across from me. He looked up at his friend and offered a smile before taking another bite of his food.

“Listen,” Niall said. “I know we were interrupted last night by my dear friend Harry, so maybe we could get dinner one night this week?”

I looked up at Harry, shocked by both Niall’s accusation and his proposition. Harry kept his eyes on his plate, and Quinn looked eagerly between me and Niall.

“Uh, sure, Niall,” I smiled and nodded at him, pulling my eyes away from Harry. “That would be great.”

“Perfect!” He smiled, standing from the table. “I’ll text ya and we can set somethin’ up!” He disappeared into the array of tables beside us, finding his way back to where he sat with other members of the football team.

“What was that about?” Millie appeared, her plate restocked with a new pancake as she sat where Niall had been.

“She’s going on a date with Niall,” Quinn chirped, flashing us her perfect teeth as she snaked an arm through Harry’s. “How exciting!”

“What?” Millie looked at me with wide eyes, almost blowing my cover. “I mean, that’s...great,” she shrugged, offering a forced smile as she looked from me and then to Harry. “You’ve been eyeing him for weeks,” she lied, catching on quickly to the scheme that was unfolding in my head.

“Alright, that’s excessive,” I waved a hand at her, urging her to stop talking.

Harry--who seemed completely unphased by the entire situation--pulled out his phone and began scrolling through facebook. In an attempt to gauge his displeasure, I let out a sigh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date. I’ll have to find a new outfit,” I smiled at Quinn, knowing my words would excite her.

“Oh my gosh,” she clapped her hands together. “We can totally go shopping or you could borrow something from me, of course!”

Millie let out a laugh. “Her ass will never fit in your trousers.”

“Thank you, Mildred,” I said loudly, hoping to let Millie know how unnecessary her remark was. If it wasn’t already clear to the entire world, I had an ass.

Boys in secondary school were always talking about it, even when I would wear a skirt to try to hide the breadth of my bum. While there could be worse things in the world--an exceptionally large ass was not one of the things you wanted everything talking about.

Harry let out a snort at our conversation, a smirk on his mouth as he looked up at me. “We were all thinking it,” he shrugged.

“Fuck you,” I retorted, pointing my fork at him. “I will tell everyone on this campus about the time you pissed your pants when Gemma and Tierney made us watch that horror movie.”

With that, he took another bite of his food and went back to pretending I didn’t exist.

**

I sat on the counter while Millie mopped the floor--it was almost closing time on Wednesday night, and the student center was pretty quiet. Most people were either in the dining hall, in their dorms, or at practice for their sports team.

Millie and I, naturally, were closing up The Counter and hoping that we’d make it to the dining hall in time to get some beef wellington before the entire football team showed up and took the last servings.

“I don’t know if I should go,” I told Millie, watching as she maneuvered the mop back and forth by my feet.

“What do you mean you don’t know if you should go? It’s Niall, he’s been in love with you forever. Just go,” she ordered. “It will be fun.”

“That’s what you think--you’re not the one who’d be going on a date with a friend of the guy she’s pining after.” I used my thumb to scratch at a stain on my apron.

“If it’s bad you don’t have to go on a second date,” she stopped mopping and looked up at me. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and put her hands on her hips. “Just go. I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

“I know,” I sighed, letting my shoulders slump before I slid off the counter. I hopped down onto my feet and sidestepped the wet spot that Millie had been focusing on. I made my way to the register, just about ready to lock it when Millie came up behind me.

“You know,” she said suddenly, clearly deep in thought. She brought a hand up to scratch at her chin. “If you’re right, if Harry really doesn’t want you to date Niall--maybe dating Niall will make Harry realize he loves you.”

I stared at her straight faced, waiting for her to laugh. She held it in for a minute, but eventually she exploded with laughter and bent forward to clutch her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “It’s not funny. Harry should love you.” She said with a nod.

“Yeah, yeah, have your laugh.” I said with an eye roll. “You won’t think it’s so funny when you’re madly in love with someone and they don’t love you back,” I told her confidently, using both hands to gather my curly hair into a low ponytail. The heat in the student center always made my hair much bigger that it was. Tonight was no exception.

“Harper,” Mille said, a tone of seriousness now present in her voice. I smiled slightly at the way she pronounced my name. You’d think--after fourteen years in England--that I’d be used to my name being pronounced as Hahpah, but whenever someone said it seriously, I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded.

“You’ll never find true love if you keep daydreaming about your neighbor,” she informed.

I pressed a button on the cash register, popping out the tray so I could collect the cash. “Yeah, I know,” I said simply. I was hoping that Millie’s lecture would be short lived. Of course, I was wrong.

“I know he’s dreamy and amazing and all that jazz,” she smiled at me. “But there are plenty of fish in the sea. You just have to go for a swim.”

**

My date with Niall--much to my own dismay--was actually pretty good. He brought me to a burger place where I could get ‘American food’--as he called it--and we headed to walk through a local park afterwards.

Niall was funny--this was no news to me. I’d had a class with Niall during our first year, and despite his being a year older than us, he was always nice and never embarrassed to sit next to me in class.

He had an appetite that matched mine, luckily, because as far as I was concerned, my biggest turn off was I guy I could out eat.

We’d been walking back towards campus when my phone rang. Tierney’s name flashed on my screen, and as much fun as I was having, I told Niall I had to take it.

I stepped away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, and brought the phone to my ear.

“Bad timing,” I said into the phone, hoping that Tierney realized it was prime date time. Friday night in London? Practically everyone with a heartbeat was out and about trying to score for the night.

“Hello to you too,” Tierney’s voice sounded.

My older sister--who was equally as loud mouthed as I was--worked in London as an editor, I think that’s why she thought she was smarter than everyone. If you think about it, it was actually all Tierney’s fault that I was in this predicament.

If Tierney hadn’t befriended Harry’s older sister, Gemma, I would never be in love with Harry in the first place.

“What’s up?” I asked, kicking at the sidewalk with my brown boot. “I’m kind of on a date.”

“You’re on a date? Did Harry break up with that girl, Quaker?”

“Quinn,” I corrected her, and despite the fact she annoyed me, it was nice to speak with another American. Sometimes my brain got inundated with tea and crumpets and innit? “But no, it’s with someone else.”

“Someone else?” She pried. I looked over to Niall, who was mindlessly on his phone only an earshot away.

“Yes, Tierney. I can’t talk. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she laughed. “I’m sitting here with Gem and we were just wondering what you and Harry were up to this weekend. We figured it’s been a while since a sibling brunch.”

Ah, the infamous Styles-Coleman sibling brunches. Every since Harry and I both moved to London and started Uni, Gemma and Tierney were thrilled to have us all so close together. Gemma and Tierney had also gone to uni together, both earning degrees in journalism. Gemma went the writing route and Tierney for editing.

Luckily--for their own sakes--they decided to not live together after they graduated. I think living with your best friend and doing everything with them qualified you for the ‘crazy cat lady’ title even if you didn’t own any pets. Gemma and Tierney both had two.

“Uh, sure, Sunday?”

“Works for us,” she said into the phone. I agreed to show up, but the deal was that they had to get Harry on board. If I asked Harry he’d say no, if they asked Harry, he’d begrudgingly oblige.

I hung up, thankful for Tierney and Gemma’s neverending support. I was probably fifteen or sixteen when Tierney let the metaphorical cat out of the bag and told Gemma that I’d been lusting after her brother for years. I was embarrassed at first, but when Gemma claimed she’d long known my secret and that Harry and I were a match made in heaven, I wasn’t so mad that she knew afterall.

Nowadays, both Tierney and Gemma were still rooting for us, even though they knew Harry was the farthest thing from interested in me. I think they kept up the charade just to please me.

I shoved my phone in my coat pocket and headed back towards Niall. “Sorry about that,” I said as I fell into step with him. We turned left to enter the lower side of campus. “My sister was just asking about going to brunch with her friend and with Harry.”

“With Harry?” Niall asked, confusion coming over his face as he looked over at me.

“Yeah, his sister and my sister are best friends.”

“Oh right,” he laughed. “I always forget that you lot grew up together.”

I scoffed. “Me too.”

“He’s kind of hard on you, no?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, climbing up the stairs to the main lawn beside him. “Brotherly love, I guess.”

The words felt awkward coming out of my mouth. People often equated Harry and I to the likes of brother and sister, but they had no idea how false I hoped that to be.

Niall let out a laugh, his fingers brushed against mine. He laced them together, smiling at me as we passed by the dining hall. Niall’s flat, flat 819, was located on the far side of campus in the Pembroke complex owned by London Met. I figured he’d walk me to my dorm before saying goodbye.

For once in the history of London Met, there wasn’t a party on a Friday night. The men’s footy team had a game in the morning, meaning they were all keen on getting a good eight hours before heading up to Oxford in the morning.

As we neared the entrance to my dorm, Niall’s hand still laced with mine, Quinn and Harry appeared on the sidewalk. Quinn--bundled in a jacket that seemed a little too puffy for fall--laughed at something Harry said.

“Speak of the devil,” Niall called out to his friend, waving at them with his free hand.

Harry, who looked up at the sound of Niall’s voice, immediately let his gaze fall on our intertwined hands. “Hey, mate.”

Harry brought his eyes back up to mine, and I swear I could see a falter in his straight face. He knew I’d caught him looking at our hands, and therefore, he pulled Quinn in a little closer to his side.

“What are you two up to?” Quinn smiled, shooting me an awkward wink as she looked between us.

“Just getting back from dinner,” I offered, nuzzling my head against Niall’s shoulder.

Niall--who seemed a little surprised by my action--only let his arm drop from my hand to wrap around my shoulder, allowing me to seek shelter from the cool night.

“That’s nice,” Harry offered, eyeing me closely. “Another member of the footy team, huh, Harper?”

My face fell, and it wasn’t that I was hurt. I was used to Harry making jokes about my supposed sleeping around. Quinn smacked his arm and let out a disapproving sound.

“What can I say?” I let out an awkward laugh. “I guess I have a type.”

Quinn cleared her throat and took a sidestep towards the door, pulling at Harry’s arm. “Well, we’re headed inside, we’ll see you upstairs, Harper?”

“Sure,” I saluted in their direction, thankful for the silence outside when it was just me and Niall.

“What was that about?” He asked, his voice more quiet that I’d ever heard. He watched me closely.

“I told you,” I shrugged and forced a laugh. “Brotherly love?”

“Not that,” he shook his head. “His comment about guys on the footy team.”

Wait. You mean to say that Niall Horan hadn’t heard about my glorious (and fake) sexcapades? I figured that everyone on the footy team probably talked about my too big ass and my numerous nights in their beds...whoever they were.

“You haven’t heard the rumors?” I looked at him with wide eyes.

He shook his head.

I let out a quick breath and shrugged. “Somehow, somewhere, a rumor got started that I’ve slept with a bunch of guys on the footy team.”

“Is that true?” he kept his eyes on me.

“Have I slept with you?” I smirked at him.

“No,” he let out a laugh, but I could tell he wasn’t following.

“If I had slept with anyone on the football team it probably would be you.”

Because Harry wasn’t on the football team.

At this Niall laughed, and I was glad he could take a joke. “Oh, Harper,” he said with a smile. “You’re definitely somethin’ else.”

“I know,” I smiled back at him.

When Niall Horan kissed me, I tried my best to be in the moment. I tried to appreciate the fact that a cute guy who was smart and nice was interested in me. But of course, I thought about Harry.