#and maybe my specials could get more value for them. i never go a shift without using them but idk

[crest-of-gautier]

got the badges for gone fission evp 400 + evp 600 yesterday! .52 gal, l-3 nozzlenose, dread wringer, and squiffer make for quite the synergistic team!

my peak was EVP 810 (appx 300-310% HL). my high score of 151 eggs was obtained somewhere in evp 300...? i'm pretty satisfied with how it went, even if i didn't get HLM or 9s.

some thoughts/reflections on good freelancing teams/traits to develop when trying to rank up in evp under the cut:

i think grinding this rotation was pretty fun- all of the weapons have excellent mobility and i think they cover for each other really well! the l-3 was not my favorite weapon going into it but i think i really enjoyed the accuracy and mobility of it, so it's a bit more favorable for me now :)

i ended up reaching a skill wall in EVP 760-780 where i could not get past wave 2 or 3 (usually for quota related reasons, the quota is BRUTAL! we'd miss it by like 4-5 ish... ofc this partially relates to how well bosses are handled).

the grind for evp was a mix of freelance and grouping up (freelance for 230 -> 440s, grouping up for 440 - 750~, and then testing myself in freelance for that last bit).

i enjoyed the bits of freelance i did, and from my playtime i think these were some of the key traits/practices that indicate "good salmon run skills" to me:

players that know their weapons role(s) and target the appropriate salmonid (but also being willing to break that when priority targets haven't been taken care of)

knowing when a teammate needs help (with a boss or being revived) or when the teammate has a situation under control (e.g. someone's already on the fishstick, you can do something else)

proactive use of specials when problem targets appear, preferably with no overlap (e.g. tri-strike and inkjet activated on the same flyfishes is not the best)

using specials like booyah bomb, triple splashdown, and reefslider to clear basket area in the last 30 seconds to help eggs get in (especially important past evp 600)

teams that paint the walls first thing (especially whoever had the dread wringer). all interior walls for fission can be painted within the first 10 seconds imo

forwarding eggs closer to the basket after splatting static bosses (throwing one egg, and then swimming up with one)

players with good judgment; knowing when to lure (mostly for initial boss spawns), and knowing when to leave the big shot cannon

being able to figure out which directions snatchers come from and what eggs they can help you collect

i think these practices all stem from having good awareness and being able to collect information about the shift. it helps with making snappy quick-fire decisions, and it just gets more important the higher up in EVP you go. camera positioning/control is essential for this (you can't figure out where bosses/teammates are if your back is turned to them).

for me, every 7-10 seconds, i like to rotate my camera around to the opposite side of where i'm currently looking to make sure there isn't any bosses i'm missing. i'm hardly in one place longer than 5-10 seconds and i try to always be on the move. the spawn direction where salmonids come from are always changing, so it's essential to rotate around the map proactively rather than reactively. i think this also helps a lot with shotcalling in groups too (since you can be someone else's pair of eyes).

other than boss spawns/teammate locations (for revives), i think it's also important to notice when certain bosses haven't been taken care of for prolonged periods of time too, so that a special can be popped. to me it's usually a sign that someone whose ill equipped to deal with that boss has been forced to deal with them because the people with the "right" weapon are focused on something else... (no fault to them, of course, everyone has different priorities and you can't always communicate clearly in freelance)

in situations where squiffers were chased by a pack of scrappers, perhaps a booyah bomb or splashdown can be popped to help if you don't have the time to stun and splat them manually. maybe the fish sticks were left unattended by the shooters, so a triple inkstrike or a crab/inkjet shot can help clear them out.

awareness also extends to meeting quota, which imo involves paying attention to the timer + where eggs are located. i find that it's nice to check in with the timer/quota at 50s and 30s respectively so that you can start forwarding eggs closer to basket. and when everyone's going crazy about quota not being met i try to make sure i'm not overstepping anyone else's egg pile so that no one goes "wait no thats the egg that i wanted to pick up fuck i have to go back and get a different one."

i think this is why sometimes playing in groups is easier. if you have more sets of eyes that you can communicate with, it alleviates the need to have awareness of "everything" (provided that you can comms effectively). someone can be attuned to different things (e.g. my friend always tells us where snatchers come from and if they're good, i'm personally attuned to where people need to be revived, etc.). you also know what specials you have access to, unlike in freelance where you're not sure what others have until they use them.

the other part of completing shifts successfully (to me) is being mechanically sound with your movement, mostly in regards to how you use the terrain (walls) to get around the map and escape situations. the more you play a map the more you'll figure out how you can move around on it.

some examples, using the location callouts from salmonrun.ink: there were a few times i'd go on the harbor but i could escape any salmonids in the bridge area by climbing the walls there and squidrolling out as needed. sometimes on high tide i would swim from the perch to the left plat.

sub-strafing is also good to know too, especially when you want to rapidly collect the basket eggs at the end. i still need to integrate it into other parts of my gameplay, but it's helpful!

uh. this was way longer than intended because i have WAY too many thoughts about salmon run. TL;DR: The key to succeeding your shifts is having good awareness which comes from good information collecting practices, and having the mechanical skill to act on that awareness without hesitation.

there's definitely a lot that goes on in sensory overload the game™, so it will take time to build these muscles and reaction times. i think while at every rank of salmon run you may face a wall of "i'm overwhelmed by the bosses," the exact fix needed to get past it usually varies, so it's important to figure out what information you were missing or what actions you could've taken (more efficient movement or special usage, usually).

or if you're struggling with quota, try to practice forwarding eggs or take a look where snatchers come from (even if people splat them, it's still a good practice 2 develop for later evp. source: i don't fucking do it and it's biting me in the ass)

and most importantly, recognize when you're in the midst of a loss streak/skill wall, so that you can take a break and focus on other things that energize you! even if there's a certain goal you want to meet, grinding for higher levels of EVP and getting better at the game can be a very exhausting process. you can always come back to the grind later, whether if it's after a 30 minute break, or just a different rotation!

[cabinofimagines]

Sick Birthday

I am not winning this year. This fic was written solely because i felt shitty and my birthday is today (when this is posted lol) and i had plans but SOMEONE (my entire nuclear family) decided to get SICK (im not blaming them just upset i can't bake cake for them and have dinner with them and etc etc etc) (there are still other bday celebrations which i will have) (I just hope that my sick feelings ALSO go away when i wake up in the morning and that i was just sleep deprived) Sorry for the rant. Anyways! It's my birthday :), the banner pic is beanjamin in the flesh. Pairing: Poly!Solangelo x reader, Will Solace x reader x Nico di Angelo Request: No! Word count: 1.2k Warnings: Vomit mentions, general sickness. -Asnyox

Today was supposed to be a special day. You thought it would be- you had planned everything out beforehand, the cake, the invites, the one free day this month that all your friends could show up. But then the first camper came down with a stomach bug, and then the second and before you knew it the birthday prep started getting mixed with the extra shifts in the infirmary. Nico got it as one of the first people, Will not too long after. You counted yourself lucky, nothing could hurt you, right? Nico and Will were already better again, so everyone should be able to attend. Your birthday was going to be in two days- none of the gods hated you that much.

Except two days before your party you were hanging above the toilet bowl. As you felt like you reached the bottom of your stomach you moved away and leaned against the wall. You felt a little silly about the sorrow which you felt. Certainly you were tired, but come on you just wanted a get together, to see your friends and feel celebrated. 

But you were just being silly.You weren’t up to it, so Nico called everyone with the news and the rain check. Will offered to be your personal doctor, but you were just without any energy and feeling quite miserable so you told him to just focus on everyone else instead. 

Nico didn’t want to feel too guilty about probably giving you the stomach bug. He also didn’t care about his own birthday that much- but he knew you valued birthdays. He knew because every year you organized something for him, every year Will did something because he knew you enjoyed celebrating them. Every year you try to celebrate your own birthday, making all the preparations and stressing an appropriate amount for one's birthday. Nico knew you were upset, and he knew you would pretend to be fine. Nico might not understand exactly why you care so much about birthdays, but he knew you did and just couldn’t figure out how to make it right. You were going to be sick on your birthday and he hated it. 

Whereas Will decided to focus his energy into healing you in every way possible. He had seen you get more tired the days before you officially got down with the bug. If anything, the way you deflated when you asked Nico to call everything off had his heart aching. Sure, you were firstly stressed about going to the store still, as the plan had been to go last week but it was simply too busy to go, but now you were unable to go anyways. 

At least since the bug had already passed through most of your siblings, you were staying in your cabin. Since it was already past breakfast, your boyfriends gathered up some easy to digest foods and made their way to you. Nico had their presents for you, all wrapped up. He hoped that even if you couldn’t celebrate, they could at least make you feel a little better. 

You had hoped that this morning you would miraculously feel better. Perhaps then you could still do something- hang with your lovers, maybe get some of the closer living friends together. But no, your body was against you. For birthdays to always seem so big and magical, only to just be another day when you’re sick felt like a crime to you. Mostly though you were upset at how upset you were. How did you never realize how important your birthday is to you, unless you’re missing it. At first you thought you might just have been upset at the change of plans because you had planned it all, but then you figured it was missing your friends, missing the shot to have them all come over and talk to them. Sure you never needed a reason, but having a reason on a set date was always nice. And now you were stuck in bed, hugging Beanjamin close, as you blinked away some more tears. 

“How is our birthday buddy doing?” Will’s voice sounded careful. You quickly wiped some residue tears away before turning around in your bed to face your boyfriends. You didn’t feel like sitting up just yet.  “I’m still nauseous, but it is less than yesterday.” You sighed, “Also rub it in that all I’m getting this year is puke.” 

“That’s not true,” Will mused as he crouched before your bed, “firstly you are getting some breakfast if you’re up for it, if not at least some water.” You stared at Will for a beat before slowly going to sit up. Nico was moving your pillow in no time, so you could lean against the wall next to your bed. You spotted the gift bag prepped up against your bed, but didn’t say anything. Something about being polite about it. 

Will checked once more what you wanted to eat and carefully watched while you ate. He seemed content with the fact you were at least ingesting foods now, so with a little ‘proud of you!’ and other encouragement you got down a semi decent breakfast. As soon as that was over, you leaned your head against Nico’s shoulder, as he had sat down next to you and kept Beanjamin safe from any spills. Beanjamin was his plushie, but he had lend it to you as you weren’t feeling well, a guardian of sorts. As you closed your eyes for a little, you didn’t react to the knock on the cabin door. You felt Will get up from the bag, and opened your eyes as he let someone in. 

“Special delivery from Hermes express,” said Hermes himself, as he emptied his sack full of post. After he was done he winked, before going “And a happy birthday, kiddo,” and disappearing to wherever his next delivery was. You sat up a little more, eyeing the small pile of stuff and letters on your floor. 

“Did you set this up?” you eyed Nico who just shrugged. “I didn’t ask anyone, did tell them you were bumped about not celebrating your birthday,” Nico moved off the bed, grabbing a blanket and putting it on the floor, “You want to get started? Only go so many hours on your birthday.” 

You sat on the blanket, boyfriend on each side as they helped you spit through the mail. Most of your friends had written cards, small promises of ‘we should still meet to celebrate!’, ‘hey sucks to miss you but love you nonetheless!’ and a few ‘feel better’ did help to lift the mood. Some had included a present- care packages, birthday gifts, a pair of knit gloves from Hazel. If anything, you might have shed another tear or two simply feeling the love your friends held for you, and even though you didn’t do much special you felt like you were celebrated.    

[essentiallyleaf]

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

-

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

[stationintern]

drarry prompt: bus ride

okayyyy let's go. also inspired by the @goblinmatriarch prompt about running into someone when you're already late and having to decide whether to make your appointment or follow your heart

Freddie’s great. Really, he is. Or, he was. Draco’s not sure– the years all blend together.

He’s on the bus to Freddie’s house, and London passes by the window in a blur as he allows himself to get lost in his thoughts. He hasn’t always taken the bus. He used to Apparate, back when he was young and excited and had less to think over. He’s happy, isn’t he?

He and Freddie each bring something special to their relationship. Freddie has a rather large cock and isn’t in any rush to move in, which is ideal since Draco values his personal space. Draco has the kind of skills in bed you can only get from a few years of self-destructive sexual promiscuity, and the kind of humour you can only get from another few years of re-assimilation into the society you were once exiled from, which requires the ability to laugh at one's self a good amount.

It’s been three years, and maybe the whole not-moving-in thing should be a concern. They aren’t really… moving forward in any aspect of their relationship, and at first that was preferable. Now, Pansy’s got married, Blaise and Anthony are on their third vow renewal (in the Bahamas this time), Greg is expecting a child, and Draco feels distinctly behind the times. Maybe he should start looking for something more serious? Is this what he wants? A long-term boyfriend who has never been interested in anything more, liked him enough to push him towards it, pull him in. Why hasn’t Draco felt the need to go deeper?

There’s no way to be sure, so now he takes the bus. 

It slows to a stop and Draco doesn’t bother to look up from his novel– the one he’s perpetually stuck in the middle of, a mask and a wall to hide the horde of questions running through his mind every time he chooses to ride public transportation– until there’s a shifting in the seat next to him. The bus is nearly empty, so there’s no reason for someone to choose the seat next to him, and if he’s learned anything by now, he’s learned that being singled out means that he’s been spotted– never as a naturally handsome, intelligent looking man, but as Draco Malfoy, and there’s hardly a situation where that could be positive.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“You’re on the bus.”

“As are you.”

Potter looks the same as ever– younger than he should, ridiculously hip, hauntingly handsome. Sometime over the last decade he’d got himself an eyebrow piercing, and since then Draco has had to make a conscious effort to avert his eyes whenever his ex-archenemy-turned-coworker is near. 

They have an unspoken understanding these days, ever since they realized they both work for the same nonprofit. The Youth Entertainment Coalition formed around five years back, and Draco was assigned to the Literacy Department. Its goal being to avoid the same kind of teenage radicalism that presented itself during the war, and Draco was a shoo-in for a leadership position. He was young, apologetic, and had extensive experience when it came to being radicalized, so of course he would know how to combat it. His department began opening twenty-four-hour bookshops and game rooms, creating a safe space for teenagers to come research and meet people different from them at all hours. And they may not have any set-in-stone evidence of its effect, but no wars have broken out, so they count that as a win.

The only downside of the job proved to be Potter, who made it a point to linger around their shared office building whenever he could. His presence became a constant reminder of everything Draco could have been: good. They don’t antagonize each other, they only speak when necessary, and it works quite well. No murders have occurred… yet.

“Why not just Apparate?”

Why not just Apparate to his boyfriend’s house? He used to.

“I like to collect my thoughts,” Draco replies, “In a third location. Not at my house, not at my destination. Sometimes it’s nice to have somewhere in-between the two.”

Potter shifts again. Draco still hasn’t truly looked at him. If he did, he’d have to look at that fucking piercing, and Potter’s eyes, and he’d end up with so much more to think about than before. There’s simply no time for that.

“Why are you taking the bus?” Draco asks.

“The same reason, I guess. It’s nowhere,” Potter replies, “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Draco agrees, “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“From where?”

“Blind date.”

“A good one?”

“Not at all. He sucked.”

Draco takes a sharp breath. Of course, Potter is into men. Yet another thing Draco does not have time to think about.

“You’re gay now?”

“Now? I’ve been gay.”

Draco finally takes the leap and looks over at Potter, who gleams in the afternoon light- with his unapologetically toothy smile and consistently round glasses perched low on his nose. It’s ridiculous, how handsome the man is. Draco has done pretty well ignoring it, but there’s only so much a person can take. It’s simply not fair, how someone can be so good-looking and morally upstanding. 

“And the Prophet?”

“Haven’t picked up on it. Where are you headed?”

“Chelsea,” Draco says, simply. He could say ‘my boyfriend’s house,’ but he doesn’t, unsure of why.

“Mm. I’m sick of blind dates.”

“As is anyone whose ever been on one.”

“It makes me lose faith in my friends, you know? Like, I don’t know where they find these people.”

“The gutter, most likely.”

“I just want to meet someone organically, but it gets to this point when you’re an adult… where it feels like you’re just out of people to meet. Am I making sense?”

“Yes,” Draco gets it, “It’s hard to get to know people. You have to rehash everything, let them in. It’s easier to just stick with the people who’ve been there, who know you… intimately.”

“Exactly,” Potter breathes a heavy sigh of relief, sinking low into his seat and spreading his legs obscenely, “You know, I’ve wanted to get to know you. For a while, actually.”

Draco’s blood freezes like ice, “Me?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, knocking shoulders with Draco, “But, like, how was I supposed to approach you? You were always around, but in the office you have this… face. Like, don’t speak to me about anything other than my bookshops or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Whatever. Why would you want to get to know me?”

“You’re interesting.”

“In which way?”

“All of them.”

Draco’s mouth hangs open for an embarrassing amount of time while he processes that response, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah. You can… get to know me. I suppose.”

Draco’s not sure what kind of spirit has possessed him, but apparently it’s hell-bent on making his life more complicated than it was before.

“Are you free tonight?” Potter asks.

The bus slows to a stop, and Draco’s knows that this is where he should get off. He's already running late, and this is his stop. But, curiosity and dissatisfaction propel him into action. He holds up a finger, pulls out his phone, and brings up Freddie’s contact.

I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it tonight.

Draco knows that he’s walking a fine line here. Standing up his boyfriend to hang out with someone he’s attracted to and wants to get to know better. But, deep down, he knows that Freddie won’t care. He probably wouldn’t care if Draco broke up with him right now with a text that simply said ‘we’re over.’ All in lowercase, no less. 

Freddie has never been prone to loud emotions, and nobody's emotions are louder than Draco’s. Something’s been missing for a while.

It is time to move forward. It is time to get to know new people, even if they’re old enemies. Maybe that’s the best part of it all– getting to go over their shared history and recontextualize it, see what was behind the wall of hatred they kept safely in between them for all of those years.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and looks over at Potter, who is staring at him with a boyish raise of the eyebrow and tilt of the mouth, full of anticipation– something fresh and interesting and completely unknown.

“Yeah,” Draco replies, “I may not be new, but I’m definitely free.”

if you liked this, feel free to leave a comment or kudos over on ao3!

[descendant-of-truth]

So I was thinking about what Klug could realistically know about the book demon and its connection to Sig, given that it's so rarely elaborated on, and my conclusion is: more than he wants you to think he does.

Exhibit A: the ending of Fever 2

The first thing that needs to be addressed is the fact that Klug is Right There while Ayashii is monologuing. I guess we don't really know what it's like to be trapped in a book, so there's nothing to suggest either way if he can hear anything... but we do see him look at stuff. Even if he can't hear, he can definitely see, so I think it's reasonable to assume that he'd notice a shift in Aya's demeanor when it sees Sig.

And if he wasn't looking at Aya, then surely he noticed that Sig's hand started glowing and his other eye turned red, right? Hopefully? If he wasn't too busy wallowing in despair, I suppose. Oh, the limits of character portrait-based cutscenes...

He doesn't seem to forget that the possession happened, though. When he's returned to normal, he's not confused about what's going on, he just tries to save face by saying it was all totally according to plan. And while he never brings it up again, I don't think it's ever been strongly implied that he forgot about it - if he did, one would assume that it'd be mentioned in his new Puzzle Pop bio, since it already references the event directly.

So, he likely remembers this, and if he was being observant enough, he could've at least noticed something was up with either Sig or Aya - maybe even both of them.

Exhibit B: Sig's story in 20th Anniversary

So, this part of the theory relies a lot on Klug's line delivery, so I'll include a link to the scene I'm going over. (It's got the timestamp ingrained in the link, but just in case, it starts at 12:49)

Structurally, this scene is... kind of odd, if you take Klug at face value? He's quick to ramble about everything he knows regarding Sig's arm when prompted, no arguments involved, but then he just. says that he doesn't know what any of it means, and demands a Puyo Battle as compensation for wasting his time.

Like. ???

You mean to tell me that Klug, the guy who's obsessed with gathering knowledge, who prides himself on being the know-it-all who can answer any question thrown at him, would be satisfied with saying he doesn't know something? Yeah, I don't buy it.

Let's go over what he says in more detail, and pay special attention to those line deliveries.

Klug speaks very softly during this whole section, as though he's lost in thought. I want to draw special attention to the line, "in comparison to the book I have here..." It's subtle, but his voice actually wavers a little bit on the last syllable. And he all but whispers the last half of "It's as if it's identical in nature," as if he's talking more to himself than Sig at this point.

He keeps up this vaguely ominous, deep-in-thought tone for the rest of his dialogue, until something very interesting happens.

As he's going on about the Weird Vibes he gets whenever he's around Sig, he seems like he's about to go into more detail... and then Sig makes an innocuous "huh" sound.

Which is exactly when Klug pivots to sharply saying that he has no idea what they are. He doesn't sound irritated or panicked, just... I dunno, comfortably back in his usual, uppity tone.

Suspicious.

Amitie proceeds to theorize that the blue thing that sometimes comes out of Sig's back may have a connection with the red thing in Klug's book, and what do you know, Klug actually stutters when he denies the possibility.

Suspicious.

Awfully bold of Klug to say that there's no way the two things could be connected after he just said that Sig's arm and his book feel like they have the same power, by the way.

This whole exchange reads to me like Klug got carried away with the topic of Sig's arm, and ended up saying a lot more than he planned to. He only snapped out of it when Sig's voice alerted him to what he was doing, and then he started hastily covering up his tracks. He had to dismiss Amitie's theory, not because he genuinely thinks she's wrong, but because he knows she's right.

And for some reason, he can't let them know that.

So I gotta ask. Why? What's he trying to accomplish by covering up what he knows? He likely doesn't even know the full story, so what does he think will happen if other people find out?

Maybe he just doesn't want anyone else learning about the book before he can make its power his own. He is rather possessive of it, continuously renewing it from the library with no intention of ever giving it back. Even with his tendency to blab, I could see him wanting to keep something like this a secret. Not just for the eventual power, but as a special something he knows that nobody else does - anything to boost that sense of superiority, even at risk to himself.

...And maybe, in the depths of his tsundere heart, he's trying to protect Sig a little bit, too. He knows that the demon is dangerous, and probably doesn't want to find out what would happen if Sig started pursuing it for answers. Plus, if he did notice Aya gunning for him back in Fever 2, then all the more reason to be wary.

(I'd still posit the idea of him trying protect himself as his primary motivation, and the only one he'd ever acknowledge, but I'm taking my "Klug cares about his friends" crumbs wherever I can, okay)

Of course, if his ears were working in spirit form, then that suggests he knows way more than I've been assuming, but. I'm not sure his behavior really matches up with that idea? He sounds like he's genuinely speculating about Sig and the book here, which would be a little weird if he heard it point and shout "AYO THAT'S MY DESCENDANT AND/OR TRUE FORM. GIMME"

...not that Sig himself seemed to hear that either, but that's besides the point

[whattraintracks]

Today on thinking about The Next Mutation as a continuation of the 90s movies, let's consider brotherhood and origins:

At 15 years old the turtles call each other brothers and have always wondered about their origin.

In TMNT II, Leo asks Splinter why he only now shows them the TGRI canister (why did you wait this long to tells us when you know how much we've wanted any clues?) Donnie privately imagined there was a deeper purpose to the ooze, that they were special. He hates the idea that their genesis was a mistake.

Don says he always thought there was more to the ooze and Leo's response, his immediate, soft I know, makes me wonder if these two have had conversations about this before. Have they confided in each other about their questions and fears and hopes? Whatever the case, they're on the same page, but Splinter tells them they need to focus on the mission at hand.

Jump to 17-18 years old and the turtles don't call each other brothers and only Donnie cares about understanding their mutation.

TNM Leo talks to Venus and insists none of them are siblings, but Donnie seems to consider them a family unit (particularly a dysfunctional one). What changed in two years that caused such a shift and took Leo and Donnie so far off the same page?

Story time, I have a half sister. I don't typically refer to her as such because she's just my little sis, you know, but when I was younger the distinction was important to me. Not because I loved her any different, but for some reason I couldn't ignore the technicality. I often felt compelled to inform people who asked about our relation that we were half siblings then immediately reassure them I didn't love her any more or less for it.

So I wonder, if TNM Leo is experiencing something similar here. He's had a couple years to process what they learned about the ooze and maybe he's stuck on the point that they're literally not related, that it was never supposed to happen like he hoped thought, that his family wasn't really a family it was just a coincidence, a careless accident, and he hasn't yet been able to move past that technicality to realise their brotherhood has value and meaning despite not being conventional.

And I'm hopeful he'll get there! It took me a few years, but even in my own mind my sister is my sister and actually I seem to collect siblings left and right these days. I still consider every foster kid who ever lived in my home to be my sibling and that means I have more little siblings than I know what to do with. I still see my mom's best friend's kids every now and then and they're definitely like siblings. There are probably too many folks I consider siblings, Leo doesn't need to go to this extreme but if we're being honest that would be in character for him.

Let's move on from me, because the more interesting point is how he compares to Donnie. Here's the thing, Don has held onto them being a family (though he's likely examined and reshaped this belief), but I don't think he walked away from TMNT II unaffected. He ultimately didn't let the information and disappointment about their origin affect their familial status in his mind, but he doubled down on understanding their mutation. Professor Perry fully admitted to the ooze being a unforeseen side effect and then presumably disappeared with the rest of TGRI before Donnie could try to pick his brain. So Don tries to figure it out on his own and eventually seeks out Dr Quease's insight.

Anyhow, this is just one of my many thought experiments about how the 90s movies could provide context for different aspects of TNM.

[terrahlee-cup]

Yes exactly! Raph using Leo’s katanas for the first time during a major fight gone (very) wrong where he’s the only one able to keep going. Raph’s stubbornness not always being a negative trait my beloved. Alternatively, a villain who can read their fighting styles a bit too well until Leo silently hands off the katanas and lets Raph just go.

You described my exact thought process with giving Mikey access to dangerous chemicals lol. It forces him to assess the area around him, not fighting purely on natural instinct. Suddenly he has to use his head and how does he handle that? Maybe it doesn’t go very well at first, one or more of his brothers getting caught in the crossfire. It would be a rough way to learn that lesson, but also gives Mikey a chance to show a real difference in maturity after that point.

I’m all for Mikey and Donnie bonding over different scientific interests. Referencing my own iteration for a second here lol, but that’s a big part of why Lost Project Mikey and Donnie are so close. They create stuff together all the time! (Poor Leo deals with the consequences.) Mikey generally seems to be pretty creative, so he could have plenty of ideas that Donnie never would have thought of. They’d be such a dangerous combo. This addresses one of my… pet peeves I suppose with the different tmnt iterations. Donnie often has a very specialized skillset, and Leo is ‘the leader’, but Mikey and Raph sometimes end up just… being good at fighting? If that (see Leo seemingly getting the role of best fighter in certain parts of the series). Let the boys have their own specialties! People have different skillsets, and rarely just one.

Ohhhh yes, Mikey being more willing to go all-out in a fight while Donnie prefers to hang back. (Actually kind of applies to Leo and Raph too, which is interesting. The cooler-toned brothers are more reserved.) Also the kusaragami has more range, and if Mikey is tossing chemicals around he would want a better view of the fighting. Perhaps he really starts working with that weapon more when a misjudged throw gets one of his brothers hurt— Mikey’s growing maturity showing in his weapon as well as his general attitude during fights.

Shifting roles would definitely cause a bit of friction at first, but the healthy kind. Everyone’s growing and they’re going to step on each other’s toes a bit until they all adjust to the changes. Leo and Donnie getting encouragement from Mikey and Raph as they get used to having/sharing so much more information. Raph learning to maybe rely on his brothers a bit more as he doesn’t have to be a kind of last line of defense. Mikey getting that extra trust from his brothers and then being motivated to put in more effort. Donnie wouldn’t be the only one finding his thing!

This gets especially fun if you extend the timeline of the 2012 series— start them out at 15 (or, perhaps, even younger hehe), but by the end of the series they’re young adults. From what I found it seems like they would have been around 17 or 18 by the end of the show, but with the sheer amount of stuff that happens in that series they could get an extra year or two on top of that. People change a ton in 3-5 years, so of course there’d be a different team dynamic by that point. These aren’t necessarily kids anymore, so then you show that difference with their weapons and team roles. (Lol basically going from high school to early college years.)

I got a bit sidetracked, but all those changes making Leo a much better leader would be great. He has more to work with! At the same time he can’t just shuffle his brothers into whatever spot and make it work. If someone goes down strategy has to change. Also, it gives more value to his role as leader. I mean, if you can stick whoever wherever it… doesn’t mean as much to lead (and it seems like Leo may also struggle with his place on the team, just differently from Donnie). There’s just so much room for character growth here.

Also! Throw out the whole Leo having to act as a parent and teacher to his brothers thing! Everyone shares the burden more evenly, Raph acting more as a teacher, Mikey handling medical issues perhaps?, Donnie taking care of maintaining things around the lair. Leo gets room to breathe and everyone gets their chance to be focused on. So much stuff could be done!

I have a Thought/question I want some opinions on. I have some of my own ideas, but if any of the turtles (particularly the 2012 versions) were to switch or learn to use a different weapon what would that weapon be? This doesn’t have to be limited to weapons we’ve seen used in tmnt before, go nuts.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

We bleed together

a/n you want pain!? I'll give you pain. The person who requested this is responsible for the damage.

summary: what if the last day of humanity was different? What if instead of loosing Sarah, Joel lost you - the mother of his two children and the person who had built him up to a better man.

warnings: car crash, blood, injuries, wounds, death ahh I would say medium emotional damage

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"And then one more", you spun around, making the baby giggle in your hands, "And one more", you twirled around, smiling to yourself as yet another giggle filled the still-empty kitchen. Emma was one giddy baby. For a five-month-old, she was extremely alert, her curiosity driving her to look around as much as she could. If only her body was strong enough, she would be crawling around day and night. Following Sarah around or any of you for that instant. Sarah barely left her side. You were worried at first about her reaction. Sure, you had been there almost from the start, helping Joel take care of her, and she was like your own daughter, but still. You had plenty of conversations about her biological mother. You understood her desire to know. To ask questions. To understand.

"She didn't want me, right? I was the problem", you were halfway through your pregnancy when this conversation surfaced again. Putting down the baby sweater that you were just folding, you motioned for Sarah to come in. She had become more avoidant once you started showing. The reality started to kick in, and it pained her that the baby was going to have a real and normal family.

"You were never the problem, my beam of light", you cupped her face lovingly, whipping away some of the tears that had started rolling down Sarah's cheeks. "But… she didn't love me like you love your baby", "Oh, Sarah", you pulled her closer to your chest, "I've loved you from the moment I saw you kicking around in that makeshift crib your dad had going on". Running your hand through Sarah's curls, you made her turn to you. "You've been my special girl since then. I love you and the baby the same. There are no differences to me between you two. Sure, you and I don't share DNA, but, like, who cares about that?", she shrugged her shoulders. Biting her lip as she tried to stop the tears. "You promise you won't leave?", Sarah crocked out, big brown eyes searching yours. It broke your heart so much, but you understood her. Her fear of losing a mother figure. Her dad needing to go through this alone again. You took both of her hands in yours, squeezing them, "I would never dream of it; you are my world".

Joel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, especially once the baby caught sight of her father in the archway, kicking her little legs happily. The sudden burst of excitement made you turn your head to the side, "Ah, so dad is the one you get all happy for, huh", You nuzzled your face into Emma's neck, leaving endless amounts of kisses there and making her squeal happily. "She's a daddy's girl, aren't you?", Joel walked closer to you, hand reaching instantly for the smallest Miller. Emma's babbles filled the kitchen as she told her dad all the stories she could. "Honestly, rude. When both of our kids are like that", "Maybe I'm just more awesome", you let out a fake gasp, your hand coming up your chest. Joel smirked before giggling to himself. "No, sir, soon you'll be going to work without birthday sandwiches", you warned him, and Joel instantly lifted his free hand in the air defensively.

It felt surreal this morning for some reason. Joel had laid in bed awake for some time just thinking. Thinking about Sarah's mother. Thinking about you. About how his life had shifted once you stepped in. How much he valued the love you gave Sarah. How much he valued you going through a tough pregnancy to bring another baby girl into this world. Joel wondered if you knew. Knew how much he loved you. It wasn't just love. It was his whole existence. You were his rock, as he was yours. But he knew, Joel was convinced, that it was all thanks to you that he found purpose in life again.

"We can't have mommy mad", Joel mumbled to Emma, ticking her stomach. He moved closer to you while you were cutting up the vegetables. Leaning in to press a kiss on your shoulder, then another. Before a whole line of kisses was drawn from your shoulder up to your temple. You giggled, loving the slight tickle of Joel's beard against your skin. "I love you so much", Joel muttered, bringing you closer to his chest as his hand sneaked around your waist. You leaned back into him smiling, "Not as much as I love you, birthday boy", you cupped his cheeks, moving into Joel's embrace so you could place your lips on his. "The best mama ever", he muttered in between kisses, "And best wife to be", those words made your heart flutter a little. God, you loved this man, and you couldn't wait to be a Miller soon. You deepened the kiss just a little.

"Seriously? In front of a baby?", Sarah's voice made you two tear apart quickly. "You're officially out of the age to say ew when your parents kiss", Joel chirped, turning to his older daughter, who was rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but Em isn't, so don't be disgusting, right Em?", Sarah reached for her sister, whom Joel had carefully placed in her little high chair. Her little fist tightened and wrapped around Sarah's finger. You place the plates with food on the table.

"Tommy?", you ask, but Joel shrugged his shoulders. "Probably left early," strange, you thought to yourself as you slipped into the chair next to everyone. "So, how old are you again?", Sarah asked, mouth full of food. "Thirty-six", the girl shook her head, making you giggle. "Hate to break it to you, dad, but dippers are in the near future", she teased, but Joel only hummed, "Who said I ain't wearing one now?". Sarah let out a laugh, which Emma mimicked, making you smile. "Well, at least now I know why Em's diapers are disappearing", you said ž, making them both let out a laugh.

You wished you could freeze moments like this. Where you all were laughing. Where nothing bothered you all. "Don't forget to get the cake on your way back", you reminded Joel, who instantly hummed, "I will don't worry", he muttered, and Sarah sent him a warning look that he returned by leaning across the table to cup her cheeks and placing kisses all over her face. She squirmed in her dad's hands until she couldn't contain the laughter anymore.

Joel came back to a dark house. He wasn't expecting anything else, considering that he was three hours late coming back. He knew you would forget him for skipping his birthday dinner. It was Sarah, whom he knew must be upset. And letting her down was his biggest fear in life. Joel tried to move past the hallway as quietly as possible, stopping only when he noticed a light coming from the living room. Sarah was fast asleep with her head laying on your lap, your eyes were tired as you held Emma close to your chest. The light sounds of her suckling and the television playing were the only noise in the room. Joel couldn't help but smile slightly. He will never be able to get tired of a sight like this.

"Am I in deep shit?", you blinked a couple of times, shaking your head, "You can't even imagine Miller". Joel sat down next to you, lips instantly moving to kiss the side of your head, hand reaching to support Emma, who was happily eating, her tiny hand holding onto the pendant necklace that Joel had gotten you. It had four gold-plated letters. All the first letters of your little family's names.

"Don't overthink it. She'll understand eventually. Sarah wants your presence more than that cake anyway,", you reassured him, already feeling him slip into his mind. You knew Joel best. You knew how much he cared. The family was always first, and his working hours were so hectic just because he wanted to give you all the best. "I know. I will… I'll squeeze in a free day, and we can all just have a day to ourselves", Joel muttered, and you leaned closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Have I told you lately that you are the love of my life?", he asked all of a sudden, making you look back up at him. "Well, I would freaking hope to be", you teased him, moving to nuzzle closer to him once more. Joel let out a light chuckle, "But you have; you always remind me of that. Because you are the best fiancé and father ever", you muttered sleepily. Joel's warmth dangerously lulled you into a slumber.

The sound of what appeared to be a military helicopter flying over the house woke you up. You frowned, reaching over for Joel only to find his side of the bed empty. You quickly sat up, looking at the bassinet that stood by the side of your bed. Breathing out a sigh of relief when you saw Emma fast asleep there. Lights from outside were illuminating the room. It seemed like the search troops were out. What the heck was happening? The sight of a paper note caught your attention next. You picked it up quickly. It was Joel's handwriting on it: "Needed to go bail Tommy out. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love you, J.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you grab a book off your bedside table. Something was wrong, and you could just feel it. You could feel it deep in your gut. "Mom, dad", Sarah's voice filled your ears, right before another helicopter flew by. "Cone here, darling", Sarah threw the door open, rushing to you as she jumped onto the bed. "What's going on?", she asked, as your eyes fell over the window. "I don't know,", you muttered, "But daddy will be home soon, and we'll figure it out, okay?", You cupped her cheek tenderly, giving Sarah a light smile. You stood up and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a wrap-around carrier. Quickly draping it over your body, you leaned to pick up the smallest addition to the family, tucking her close to your chest. Now more than thankful that she was a deep sleeper, a gift from Joel.

"Come on, let's see if there's something on TV,", you said, reaching for Sarah's hand. The commotion outside only made the anxiety more and more intense. "Where is dad?", Sarah asked as you walked down the stairs. "He went to get your uncle". It wasn't the first time, so Sarah didn't ask any more questions. She knew it meant that Tommy had once again gotten into trouble. Something that made her dad rather frustrated most of the time.

All the channels were turned off, the only thing on TV was a warning. "Indoors, law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions", your hand was still holding onto Sarah when the sound of something hitting the window made you both jump. The barking filled your ears next, and you let out a shaky breath. Sarah instantly rushed towards the doors. "No, get back here", you called after the girl, but she was already opening the door, sinking to her knees as she petted the dog. "Easy, easy, Mercy. What are you doing out here, boy?", Sarah looked around the street, the chilly nighttime air hitting her cheeks. She moves to step closer to the street, but you were quick to hold onto her arm. "Get back inside," you said, "But what if ms. Adler…", she tried to argue, but your grip on her hand only tightened.

"I said inside", you tugged at her hand right as another person or whatever that was stumbled into the street. It twitched awkwardly before starting to dart in your direction. You moved Sarah behind you. "Go, go, go", you shouted before, pushing her into the house, closing the door behind you. Pressing all of your body weight against the door. Eyes closed as your body started to shake. Where was Joel? Where was he? The baby lets out a whine. Your hand instantly moved to rub up and down her tiny back, hoping to soothe her into sleep.

"Mom", Sarah calls out. You lifted your eyes to see her teary ones, instantly reaching for her, "Come here baby. We're okay", "What was that?". You pressed her to your side, kissing her head a couple of times. You wished you could answer, but you couldn't. "I don't know, baby, I don't know", you nudged her closer to yourself. Banging on the doors got louder, and a part of you was telling you to move to somewhere safer to at least get the girls safe. But you couldn't move. So crippled by anxiety. You just sat there with silent tears falling down your cheeks. Then a shot rang out, making you flinch. And then there was silence.

"Y/N", you let out a cry at Joel's voice that filled your ears from the other side of the door. Sarah was the one to stand up fist, quickly reaching for the handle, giving you just enough time to move slightly as she yanked the doors open. Joel stepped in, his hands reaching for Sarah instantly as he looked her over for any sign of injuries, "You're not hurt, baby girl?", he asked her. Sarah shook her head. "Dad, what's going on?", but Joel said nothing as his eyes fell on you. Crying on the floor, hands wrapped around your baby. He crossed the distance between you in a couple of steps. Kneeling beside you, "Joel…", you cried out, and he instantly brought your body closer to his, weary of the baby between you but making sure you could physically feel that he was there, "I've got you dove, come on, we need to move now".

Joel's arm moved to steady you from behind as he helped you up. Tommy was by Sarah's side, gun in hand, as he walked her towards the car. You barely made it down the front porch stairs as someone ran out of the Adler's house. You all froze in place, and Tommy hiked up the gun. "Get in the truck now", Joel roared, briefly turning to you and Sarah. But there was little time to think as the woman's body twitched and, with an unhuman-like growl, she started crawling towards you.

"What are we doing, Joel?", Tommy's voice rang out, but Joel didn't answer. With the tool in his hand, he swung his arm. He hit the old lady straight on the head, and her body fell to the ground. It was a split-second decision. A decision that had both you and Sarah staring at Joel because you had never… Never seen him this way. Never seen so much anger. Never seen this kind of violence. You didn't even know that Joel was capable of that.

"You killed her", Sarah whispered, pulling you out of your trance. Joel stepped to her, cupping her cheek, "Baby, I'm sorry", wrapping his arms around her, embracing her. "Joel, we need to move", Tommy said in a worried tone, now moving to grab your hands as he walked you toward the car. "You're okay?", he asked you as he opened the door, making sure you didn't hit your head. His hand lingered on his niece's back, her big brown eyes now staring at him. You nodded your head. What else were you supposed to do? "We'll get out of here", Tommy said firmly, rubbing his thumb on Emma's cheek. You turned to Joel and Sarah; he was still holding onto her. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

"Listen to me, it's not just the Adlers, but we need to be brave; we will get out of this together", Joel said to her before opening the door for her. An explosion rocked the street meters away from you. Both Miller brothers were quick to shield you, baby, and Sarah. Emma's cries echoed through the empty street now. You met Joel's eyes briefly. Eyes that were also scared. Worried eyes. "Let's go, guys, we need to go", Tommy jumped in the driver's seat before starting the car.

Sarah was silently crying beside you. Crying alongside Emma. You tried to soothe both of their fears, but with your anxiety being so high, you knew that you could try to hide it all you wanted - they could still feel it. The frantic driving and Joel's shouting at Tommy didn't help much. You pressed Sarah closer to you, her arm falling over Emma's body. You started to hum one of the lullabies. The lullaby that had followed Sarah through her childhood. The one even she sometimes hummed to her little sister if she took over the nap duties. "And in the darkest of nights, the stars shine bright above us. Sleep tight, little one; let the light calm you", you hummed softly. Rocking both of them in your embrace.

The world was falling apart. Houses were on fire. There was so much screaming. "What if it's everywhere?", Sarah muttered, looking up at you. "We'll find a safe place. Remember what your dad told you? We need to be just a tiny bit braver tonight", you said, meeting Tommy's gaze right as he looked up. A plane flew over the car. "The fuck", the younger Miller cursed while watching the ship sway in the sky. "Keep going", Joel encouraged his brother. His arms slipped toward the back. Joel's fingers were running up and down your calve. His way of grounding himself, of making sure that you knew he was there. That he still had this under control. That he was going to get you all out of here.

The chaos was like nothing you had seen before. The screams. The cries. People were running in front of cars. Hitting the sides as they fell. The streets were full. It all felt like a blur and the worst nightmare all at once. Sarah's grip on your hand was deadly. Your fingers had found Joel's hand as you leaned forward. Tommy started to move out of the street. You felt a tug on your hand. Sarah's eyes were gazing through the back window. "Dad" she whispered, "Dad!", this time the word came out more firm and loud. You only managed to see another airplane flying right at you. Then came the crash. The sound of static. Everything moved at lightning speed. You caved into yourself. Hoping to provide as much shelter for the infant with my body, and then everything went black for a moment.

Joel had never been more scared than the moment he crawled out of the car that was now lying on its roof and found your unconscious body covered in bits of glass and blood. Emma's cries soothed him almost; at least he knew she was alive. Sarah moved as well, and Joel let out a somewhat relieved breath. "Babe", Joel touched your leg, but you didn't move. He inched closer, dragging you out of the car by your shoulders. The moment Joel tugged on your hand, your eyes snapped open with a cry.

"Hey, I've got you", he tried to sound calm, but the sight of the blood trickling down the side of your face made him want to tear the whole world apart. Joel pulled Sarah out of the car as well before turning his attention to you. "Does something hurt?", "My shoulder, I think I…", you hissed when Joel's finger came in contact with your skin. "Give me, Em. Sarah, can you walk, baby?", Joel was loosening the carrier from around your body as he gazed at his firstborn. The girl nodded, and you ripped the side of the carry. Crawling toward Sarah and reaching for her ankle. "I'll wrap it tight, okay; it might feel uncomfortable, but you'll be able to move for now", "Mom, your head", she mumbled, fingers reaching for the blood, but you stopped her quickly. "It's nothing, darling. You focus on staying close to us, okay?"

Tommy came up from the other side, glancing over his shoulder. "The military trucks are here; you need to move; go towards the river; I'll meet you there", Tommy said, Joel rocked Emma in his arms as she screamed her little lungs out. She, too, felt the threat without the warmth of your skin. Tommy shrugged off his jacket, draping it over Joel, before helping you stand. "I'll see y'all there", he ushered you to move. "You stay safe", you said to him, and he only nodded. Regardless of his stumbles in life, Tommy was a good man. A loving brother-in-law. Someone whom you cherished. Cherished so deeply. But you couldn't let your sentiments get the better of you now. You needed to get your babies out of this mess. Get them somewhere safe. So you grabbed Sarah's hand, and so did Joel, and you all ran.

The river bank was practically a hand's reach away. Sarah was limping badly. You knew her leg was going to give up at any moment. You pulled her closer to you so she could lean more of her weight on you. Ignoring the pain that shot through your shoulder. Whispering words of encouragement to her. "Stop right there", a male's voice called out. Joel brought you all to a halt as the light from a gun darted onto your body. "We are not infected. My family got into a car crash", yet you could tell that the soldier didn't care about it whatsoever as he inched closer. "I have four civilians by the river. The female is covered in blood, girl limping", he said coldly into the radio, gun still pointed your way. "Please, we", "Shut up", the male roared, and you instantly pushed Sarah behind you. "Joel…", your hand held onto his forearm, but your eyes didn't leave the person in front of you. Something in your gut twisted. A sense of dread almost pulled you down.

"If something happens", "Y/N, don't…", you yanked at Joel's arm, firmly gaping at him. "You fucking take them and run", you muttered through gritted teeth. "Hey, no one told you to move", the soldier shouted, and you moved to face him again. The sound of your breathing was the only sound you could hear as your hand came up over Joel's hip, and you moved forward. The gunfire pierced the air. The echo was almost unbearable. Freezing. Static. Joel must have dragged you to the side after the first shot rang out, making you all tumble down the hill.

All Joel could hear was Em crying and a couple more shots ringing out. He needed to think quickly. He needed to come up with a plan. "Mommy", Sarah's shaky breath followed by a scream, was what got Joel to look up. And he wished he hadn't. He wished this was a dream. Maybe it was? His worst nightmare? What if he pinched himself? Make it all disappear. Make it all stop. "Joel", Tommy called out, reaching for the crying baby, and the moment the girl was out of his hands, Joel was moving towards you, falling over himself but moving to you.

"Hey, hey, love", he muttered. You had two gunshot wounds on both sides. The blood had already soaked your clothes. Sarah's had her hands pressed against your skin as she shook. "Listen to me, Y/N; I'll get you out; I'll make it", but you moved your hand up, gripping his arm. Lips pressed together as you tried to keep yourself from screaming in pain. You had to. For your girls.

Your eyes fell on Em in Tommy's arms; her bright pink cheeks were visible in the night. Your little angel baby. Your girl that you will never get to see grow up. She might not even remember you. You were going to be a distant memory. Just how Sarah's mom was to her. Sarah looked at the blood seeping through your skin. You reached for her, making her eyes snap at your face.

You pulled the last bits of your strength so you would smile at her, "I love you, sun-shine", you breathed out, and burning pain shot through your body, making you close your eyes. "Mommy, please. I… don't… please", she said, moving to wrap her hands around your neck. You breathed in her flowery scent, feeling your eyes burn with tears. Knowing very well that this was the last time you were going to feel her touch and smell her, "Let… mommy and daddy have a moment", you pleaded. Feeling your body starting to crash already. You didn't want her to see you fade away. No. The blood. Everything from tonight was already too much. She shook her head, but Joel grabbed her hands and moved them away from your blood, saying, "Go to Tommy, baby girl".

Joel, however, moved back to pressing down on your wounds for dear life. Even if he could tell, it was hopeless. He couldn't. He couldn't and was not about to let go. "Joel..", you cried out, and he instantly moved your body closer to his. Pulling you against his chest, "Don't go; don't die; you can't die", he croaked out, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "Hold me", you whispered, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth getting stronger, "I'm here, love. I've got you", Joel pulled you even closer to him, savoring the last bits of your warmth. He hoped it would have been him dying here. It should have been because you three would have been fine with Tommy. But with you gone… What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to live?

"I lo-ve…", "I love you too; I love you so much", your grip on his arm started to loosen as your body shook. Joel got to meet your eyes one more time. He got to capture the depth and warmth of them that he knew he wanted to remember for the rest of his miserable life. "It's okay, it's okay", more blood poured from your mouth. Your big, worried eyes eased. Joel's rocking stayed the same. As if he were swaying you to sleep. As if you two were back home, back in your bedroom, and you had just had a bad dream. A bad dream that Joel was desperate to chase away. "I will always love you. There will never be anyone to replace you. My heart is yours; I'm bleeding with you, dove", he said through the tears.

Then you took a breath in. A surprisingly smooth breath in. Joel looked down at your face. And with a final exhale, your body let go, and the weight of you in Joel's hands told him loud and clear that you were gone. He looked up at the sky, at the stars that shone brightly despite the complete chaos. His body shook with a sob, a sob that guided your soul away from this world. A sob with which a part of Joel died. You took it as you went, and he was never going to be the same.

Tommy didn't rush Joel. Couldn't bring himself to. Sarah was crying with her head buried in her uncle's shoulder, and Emma's choking sobs followed suit. Joel held you till your body was ice cold. His eyes had dried, and he was staring ahead of himself, but he saw nothing. The same darkness that danced within his heart was now dancing all around him. He took your hand into his, carefully taking off the engagement ring from your finger before doing the same with the necklace. He needed something. He needed something from you that he could carry with him.

With you in his arms, Joel stood up. His legs were shaking, but he stepped forward. Tommy rose as well, "Joel, you can't… ", he tried to stop his brother. He understood that parting with your lifeless body was hard, but Joel couldn't carry you around. "We're going", Joel said dryly, as he moved past them. Sarah managed to brush her fingers over your cold skin as her father walked past. "You can't", Tommy tried again, but Joel turned back around, looking feral. "I said we MOVE,", he barked out, making Sarah shiver, and Em only cried more. "Dad,", the older girl tried, but Joel paid her no mind. He couldn't, not now. Acknowledging her would mean that he would have to face reality. And he couldn't. He couldn't fall apart. Especially not now. A shield of coldness embraces Joel as he continues walking through the dark field, still feeling your blood dripping off his hands. Dead.

[acciopietro]

Hi can I just say first I’m in love w every one of your fics!!

Can I make a request for the reader being a childhood friend of the Maximoffs who gets healing powers and saves Pietro when he’s shot by Ultron, but it takes a lot out of her. They’ve liked each other for a while but never admitted it until weeks later at the compound when she’s finally getting back her strength and he confesses? + maybe some smut after years of pining 😩

saved - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader

summary: you didn’t know anyone you were closer with than pietro, and you’d do anything to save him. even if it takes everything out of you.

word count: 5,614

tw: kissing. mention of blood and death.

a/n: hi anon! thanks so much for the request! i love this idea!!! i'm such a whore for some mutual pining. i didn’t do much smut stuff, only because i’m in a place at the moment where i feel like it wouldn’t be adequate writing... and my schedule is swamped so i didn’t really have time. i hope this was alright!

GROWING UP IN Sokovia had shaped the way you lived your life. Some might suggest that it was the culture; the holidays you celebrated, the food you consumed, the values instilled upon you, even the way you greeted your elders. But you always knew it was the people that had done it all. Specifically, your two best friends: Wanda Maximoff and Pietro Maximoff.

Fraternal twins, they were, and special ones at that. Wanda was a little bit more timid that Pietro was, and she had a sharp tongue that could cut you real bad if you weren't careful. Pietro was personable, flirtatious, and effortlessly charming; he could get you out of any situation, and had always been able to make your heart skip a beat without moving a muscle. That was the only part that had never changed after the missiles came in.

When the STARK missiles came in and bombed Sokovia, you had been one of the lucky ones. One had struck right in your backyard, and you had managed to escape unscathed (for the most part), but the rest of your town had not been so fortunate. Both your parents and Olek and Iryna, the two heads of the Maximoff family, were killed in the attacks. Wanda and Pietro, the only two in the house that survived, had to hide underneath a bed for two whole days in fear that one of the remaining missiles would be set off.

Both of the twins changed significantly after that. The three of you stayed close friends, and grew closer after the events, but something shifted; whether it be the decreasing frequency of Wanda’s witty comments or the halting of flirtatious winks and gestures from Pietro, you knew that each of them had suffered greatly from the traumatic events they were forced to go through at such a young age. You, too, had gone through it, but your experience simply could not compare to theirs. You had enough sense to recognize that.

Thus, the three of you were orphaned at age 10. You were not a Maximoff, but being their closest friend, it seemed you might as well have been. This tragic event lead Pietro and Wanda to grow up slightly more rebellious, being only loyal to one other, however that held one exception — you.

You did everything with one another. Wanda was like a sister you never had, a girl with a powerful soul and a passion for her friends and family like no other. It would be strange to say Pietro was like a brother, for there had always been something different about him. He was like a puzzle waiting to be solved, however he was one of the most genuinely good people you had ever met, and you seemed to always feel safe around him. Not to mention he was cute.

And then came H.Y.D.R.A. When you had all turned 18, you decided to volunteer to be apart of their official experiments. They had told you that they were fighting for the future of Sokovia, and would change the world. They explained that although not everyone was on their side, that they could be trusted and were the good guys in the end. Foolishly, the three of you believed them.

In the end, the three of you miraculously were the only ones who survived the experiments they did; they used the Mind Stone, striking you with it and trying to see what effect it might have on you. Wanda seemed to connect with it the most, but that didn’t mean it didn’t change something within you and Pietro, as well. 

Whether this wad good or bad, you weren’t sure, but the three of you ended up with enhanced, superhuman powers. Wanda was gifted with telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some form of neuroelectric interfacing that allows her to both read thoughts and control them. 

You and Pietro, however, did not get as fancy ones as hers. Pietro was gifted with the ability to move at a superhuman speed, as well as strength and durability (it had also turned his hair silver). You were gifted with powers to heal and to grow; the grass sprouted when you walked, flowers blooming, wounds healing. You started with paper-cuts, then scraps, then gashes, then bullet wounds, and so on and so forth.

Despite the three of you gaining special abilities, it did not help much with your current situation in Sokovia; the country was poor as can be, and those who had money did not do much to help others with it. So you and Pietro decided to use your powers to an advantage. It helped that you made a great team.

“Go, go! I can only cover it for so long!” you whisper-hissed to him, as an array of leaves and other vegetation formed almost a barrier over the security cameras and windows; Pietro sped around the house, grabbing everything he could, whether it be food, clothes, toys, you name it.

“Got it!” he called, and with your free hand, you tossed him the backpack you carried. He unzipped it with fervor and stuffed all of the stolen items inside. “Okay, that’s it, I think.”

“Okay, let’s go, then,” you said, and when he bent his knees, you hopped onto his back. You dropped your hands, causing the leaves to slowly uncover the cameras and windows, but before anything could catch sight of the pair of you, Pietro sped the both of you out, leaving not a trace behind. 

Later that evening, you unpacked the things in one of the many plazas of Sokovia, where the pair of you handed the items out to the other citizens. Many times it was medications for the elders, however sometimes it was balls and toys for children, or warm coats for when it got cold (God knew it got cold in Sokovia!). 

“There you go,” Pietro said politely, handing a stack of winter clothes to an older looking couple. They thanked him and went on their way. While you handed a beat-up looking soccer ball to a young boy, Pietro grabbed one of the medication bottles and looked at it. “Ah, those the right ones?”

“Yeah,” the old man confirmed.

“The doctor who refilled it... no more insurance hassle,” Pietro reassured him, closing the mans fingers around the bottle with a warm expression. “I made a house call.”

“How much?” the man asked. You got to your feet and shook your head.

“Oh, no,” you told him. “Just take it, okay?”

“Thank you,” the man said gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

“This is for your brother,” Pietro said, holding a soccer ball, this time speaking to a younger blonde woman with smooth skin and rosy lips. Your eyes flickered between Pietro and her for a moment before turning back around with a frown. 

“Thank you,” she said graciously.

“And this,” Pietro started. He then handed her a skimpy, silver flapper dress. “Is not for your brother.”

“Oh! No, this is...” the woman said, taken aback, grabbing the dress by the straps with a flustered expression. “This is too...”

“Is every girl in Sokovia getting as dress from Paris?” Wanda interjected as she walked by. “At least Gertie’s looked warm.”

“At least Gertie got a dress,” you commented, stepped past Pietro so you could walk alongside Wanda. Pietro pursed his lips at you. “What?"

“Erm...” Pietro scoffed, shifting his eyes to the blonde woman. “She’s kidding.”

You snickered under your breath, trading sly looks with Wanda as the pair of you walked away from the scene. Pietro, however, jogged to catch up with the pair of you, looking smug.

“You’re just jealous you’re not getting a dress,” Pietro told Wanda.

“You two keep stealing, and you’re going to get shot!” she told the pair of you, and the sly look left your face. You frowned, glancing up at Pietro, who only scoffed. Wanda whacked him on the shoulder. “I mean it. At speed, nothing can touch you, but standing still...”

“Do you think I want to be?” Pietro halted walking, stopping right in front of you and Wanda. “You said ‘Wait.’ I’m waiting. I don’t know for what! We had Stark helpless, all these years, and you—”

“Costel!” called a woman’s voice from behind the three of you. You turned your heads to look, to see the blonde woman from earlier running up to her young son, who had been coming back from the opposite direction. “Costel, where did you go?”

“The Church,” Costel replied. He then shifted his eyes to the three of you. “The man says you need to come to the Church.”

“What man?” you asked him skeptically. He shifted anxiously to his left.

“The Iron Man,” he replied. Pietro turned his head to face the pair of you, surprised. You pursed your lips and traded a glance with Wanda; she nodded. 

The walk to the Church was not long, considering most large buildings in Sokovia where moderately close to one another, and the biggest Church in the country was only a ten minute walk from the plaza. You shivered from the cold night’s air, goosebumps raising on your arms and neck. Pietro glanced down at you; the pair of you had fallen behind Wanda, who seemed to be walking like she was on a mission.

“Are you cold?”

“Huh?” you shifted your e/c eyes to look at Pietro.

“Are you cold?” he repeated gently. He gestured to your bare arms. “You look cold.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you reassured him, but it seemed he didn’t care abut your answer, for he was already shrugging off his jacket. He handed it over to you, and when you didn’t take it, he draped it over your shoulders.

“Put it on,” he told you firmly. “I know you are cold.”

You tilted your head up to look at him (since when had he gotten so tall?), sending him a look, and begrudgingly you slipped your arms into the sleeves. It was more oversized on you than you imagined, but you supposed the amount of muscle he had grown over the years was more extreme than you had realized. The jacket was warm and smelled like the cologne he had probably stolen; you pulled it closer to you as the three of you entered the Church.

Inside of the Church was Ultron, an Iron Legion created by the combined efforts of Bruce Banner and Tony Stark in an attempt to achieve world peace. When the three of you spoke with Ultron, he claimed to be on a mission to destroy the Avengers, saving the world in the process. With your hatred for Stark, the three of you agreed without hesitation, for it would be the perfect opportunity to avenge your parents as well as help others in the process. What could go wrong?

Turns out, a lot. In the end, after various fights with the Avengers, you learned Ultron’s ulterior motive: the iron legion had decided that mass extinction was only way to achieve true world peace. He sought out to destroy all of human life, and replace it all with that of metal. 

After a rather detrimental fight, one that risked your lives more than once, you teamed up with the Avengers — something none of you would have dreamed of doing the day before. Pietro and Wanda may have been siblings, but when in the heat of the battle, you and Pietro made the best team; you worked fluidly with one another, no hiccups, no trips. Even Steve Rogers had complimented the pair of you on your ability to rely on one another.

“Guess we were made for each other,” Pietro had commented, shooting you a wink. Your face had heated up, and you grinned back at him before averting your eyes downwards. Even after everything, it seemed he could still make you flustered with just a single comment. Couldn’t he see what it did to you?

Pietro was often rather impulsive during a fight. You were used to looking after him, which was why the two of you worked so well with one another, but it was often an issue due to his ability to run off and do things so quickly. You had not talked to him about shooting a gun into the air in an attempt to get people to evacuate, nor did you think telling the citizens to, “Get off their asses,” was a very wise idea. But it worked, so you supposed you couldn’t complain too much.

“The city is… falling apart,” you had said, pressing a finger to your earpiece. “Like… literally…”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” said Steve’s voice sarcastically. You scoffed.

“Do you see?” came a booming, technological voice from above. You and Pietro shifted your horror-filled gazes upwards, inside the sky, where Ultron hovered above. “The beauty of it, the inevitability. You rise, only to fall. You, Avengers, you are my meteor, my swift and terrible sword and the earth will crack with the weight of your failure. Purge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me. It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal.”

“Oh, god,” you muttered. Pietro said nothing. “Robots. Taking over the world. Never actually thought this would happen.”

“It won’t, and it isn’t,” Pietro reassured you lowly. And then, stepping towards you, he placed an arm tightly around your torso and said, “We need to move.”

And then, you were off. Pietro ran the both of you towards a different part of the city, and although it wasn’t much safer, he pulled off to the side into a nearby alleyway. When he stopped running, he doubled over, clutching his abdomen and panting.

“You alright?” you asked him gently. He nodded his head, still panting, but looked up at you and gave you a charming grin.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Just need to catch my breath.”

“Come on, then,” you told him, “We kind of have to save the world, now, so catch your breath later.”

“Anything for you,” he said in response, winking, before running the pair of you off again.

“Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart,” said Steve’s voice from within your earpieces. Pietro had opened his mouth to reply to you, but clamped it shut at the sound of the Captain. “You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off.”

“Y’hear that?” you said to Pietro, who squinted up at you, still panting. “Gotta walk it off. Let’s move.”

“You’re tough!” He breathed, grabbing you again and letting out a sharp exhale. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“All right, we’re clear here,” said Clint’s voice from the earpiece.

“We’re not clear!” said Steve. “We are very not clear!”

“Wanda,” you heard Pietro’s voice said as you sped along and caught sight of Clint and Wanda. “Dragă, I need my other arm so I can grab her, okay?”

“Fine by me,” you let go of his other shoulder, and he sped up to his sister so he could let her hand onto him as well before he sped the both of you off. 

“The next wave's gonna hit any minute,” said Steve’s voice. “What have you got, Stark?”

“Well, nothing great,” said Tony. “Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.”

 “I asked for a solution, not an escape plan,” said Steve.

“Impact radius is getting bigger every second,” Tony told them. “We're going to have to make a choice.” 

The three of you Steve and Natasha, who were standing right at the edge of the city. But as they approached, you caught sight of a giant sort of jet, with tons of people on it, and you could see life-boat type vehicles shooting out from the sides. Pietro stood beside Steve, watching the ship with giddy, almost childlike eyes.

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He asked in awe.

“This is what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s supposed to be,” Steve replied as you and Clint jogged up to join them.

“This is not so bad,” Pietro said with a chuckle. You ran up to his side where Clint went… elsewhere, you weren’t really paying attention. You glanced up at Pietro, only to see a rather large wound on the side of his arm.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, eyes widening. He glanced at you, and then at his wound, and then back at you, still grinning.

“It is not bad,” He told you. “Like a paper-cut, really.”

“You’re okay, though?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to worry about me?” Pietro gave you a lopsided grin. “My cuts heal extra fast, remember? I don’t even need you to heal them for me.”

“Just making sure,” you muttered, looking away from him. He bumped shoulders with you.

“I am fine,” he reassured you. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Sure thing,” you grinned at him. “Nerd.”

“You’re the nerd!”

“Let’s load ‘em up,” Steve announced. They began loading up as many Sokovians as they could into the boats and onto the jet, ushering them inside and off of the crumbling land.

“Avengers,” came Tony’s voice in her earpiece as she shut the door to the jet full of people and waved it off. “Time to work for a living.”

You cursed under your breath, slinging up vines and swinging yourself towards where the rest of the team was. When you arrived at the abandoned church, you saw Thor, Tony, and Vision already there. Just as you arrived, Pietro had too, as well as Wanda, Cap, and Clint.

“You good?” Pietro asked Wanda just as she arrived.

“Yeah,” She breathed, touching his arm for a second as though to make sure he was still there before they began the fight again.

“Romanoff,” Tony said through the earpiece. “You and Banner better not be playing ‘hide the zucchini.’”

“Relax, shellhead,” said Natasha. “Not all of us can fly. What’s the drill?”

“This is the drill,” Tony said as Natasha jogged in, gesturing towards the whirring metal machine in the center of the church. “If Ultron gets a hand on this core, we lose.” 

“Uhm...guys...” you said uneasily, glancing over on the opposite side of the church, where not only did Hulk crash in, but Ultron had flown down from above, hovering a few yards away.

“Is that the best you can do?” Thor asked in a fit of rage. Ultron simply lifted a hand up, causing all of the Iron Legion’s to turn away from the city and rush towards the Avengers. You huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“You had to ask,” Steve said to Thor, gazing up at all of the Iron Legions.

“This is the best I can do,” Ultron told them dramatically. “This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?”

“Well,” Tony said. “Like the old man said. Together.”

And with that, a fight. Stronger than the last, the gravity of it waving over their heads as the team fought back against the tens of Iron Legions barraging them. You didn’t even have time to think about anything you were doing; you just had to do, and if you didn’t, you had to get yourself together. It was getting to the point that no one could say anything, and no one could even tell what the others were doing. They just needed to have enough trust in one another that they’d know they were doing the right thing at the right time. There were lasers and beams and blasts and red wisps and vines and flashes of blue and silver. And miraculously, all of them were still standing. 

You turned your head to the outside of the church in a moment you had been able to gather yourself, to see Vision, Thor, and Tony each sending a blast right into Ultron, who’s metal skin was melting and burning off of him. He then stood up, panting (could Robots lose their breath?)

“You know,” Ultron began. “With the benefit of hindsight —”

The robot was cut off, however, by the Hulk sending a mighty punch into its face, catapulting him off into the sky to land in a place none of them could see. The other Iron Legion bots, at the sight of Hulk, fled, running off to the edge of the earth and flying off.

“They’re trying to leave the city!” Thor said.

“We can’t let ‘em leave, not even one,” Tony said feverishly. “Rhodey!”

You saw Rhodey in the other suit flying above, but soon Vision joined him, finishing off the last of them. You could’ve laughed; at least Rhodey would have another story to tell.

“We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin,” Steve announced. “You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you.”

“What about the core?” asked Clint. There was a beat of silence.

“I’ll protect it,” Wanda volunteered. Clint, taken aback, glanced up at her. “It’s my job.”

“Nat,” Clint said, jerking his head to the side. “This way.”

“Get the people on the boats,” Wanda commanded Pietro, who stood below her helplessly. You waited by the edge of the church. 

“I’m not going to leave you here,” Pietro told her. 

“I can handle this,” Wanda said, blasting a stream of red at another Iron Legion. Pietro sighed, knowing she was right. “Come back for me when everyone else is off, not before.” Pietro rolled his eyes, grunting in annoyance. “You understand?”

“You know,” Pietro told her, sauntering over to join you. “I’m twelve-minutes older than you.” 

“Go,” Wanda said, laughing a bit.

“Good luck, Wanda,” you called to her, sending her a kind smile. She returned it.

“Okay,” Pietro said to you, grabbing onto your torso again. “Let’s go.”

“What about — agh!” you tightened your grip on him, your fingers digging into the silver and blue material of his shirt. “Y’know, Cap was right… we do make a pretty sick team…oh, right there! Onto the boat!”

“Hold your horses, Dragă,” Pietro told you sassily, slowing down as the pair of you reached the jet. You rolled her eyes as you let your arms fall from him.

“Don’t need to sass, Maximoff,” You told him, pointing a finger at him playfully. He continued to grin. “Cause — wait, Clint! Oh my god!”

Pietro turned from beside you, eyes wide. And then, suddenly, he was gone, rushing off towards Clint, who was clutching a young kid and preparing to be shot by the thousands of bullets that were being shot at him from the jet above.

“No, Pietro!” You called out, losing him within the explosion. You froze, e/c eyes frantically searching about the fog, and as things cleared up, all you saw was Clint, clutching the kid for dear life, and Pietro, holes through his body, seeping blood onto the ground as his knees buckled from below him. He collapsed onto the pavement. “No, no, no!”

 And then, you were running. Running faster than you really thought you ever had before, ignoring the shouts of Steve from behind you. Falling to your knees beside his body and ripping off the mask that sat around your eyes, you rolled him over so his stomach was facing the sky, and with tears pricking your eyes and a surge of energy flooding through your body, you placed your hands onto his bleeding chest and closed your eyes.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” You blabbered, not evening seeing that Clint had run off with the kid before running back with Steve, presumably to get her onto the jet.

“Y/N, he’s —” Steve began in a solemn voice.

“No!” you protested loudly, focusing all of your energy onto Pietro. Your eyes were squeezed closed, not even able to see what was going outside of her and Pietro. You could just feel it. Feel him, that is. “I can do this, Rogers. Please.”

Silence. You continued, despite the wetness of your cheeks and the blood coating yours palms. There was life within him, you could feel it. Right on the edge, groping, grasping, choking for a chance — a hand to grab, to help pull itself up. And then — a loud, gruff gasp.

“Holy shit,” Clint muttered. Your eyes popped open. And your e/c iris’ met blue ones.

“Come on,” Steve said, his voice filled with shock although he tried to keep his head. “Onto the boat, come on!”

Wrapping a copious amount of vines around Pietro, you scrambled to your feet and lifted Pietro along with you, tugging him forwards and onto the boat, where you set his body down and sat right beside him. His breathing was jagged, and his eyes were brimmed with tears of pain, but he was looking at you in pure shock nonetheless.

“How…?” He choked out, staring up at you as though you were some angel from heaven to come down and grab him. “How…?”

“Don’t... don’t ever do that again,” you breathed, slumping your shoulders and bracing your hands behind you to catch yourself. Taking a deep breath, you could feel various cramps in your abdomen as well as your chest; your head began to pound like you were getting the biggest migraine of your life, and you suddenly felt as though your energy was being sucked out of you.

“Y/N?” Pietro asked, his voice still groggy. You waved a hand, telling him to lay back down because he was still recovering, but the words never seemed to get out. You let yourself lay back for a moment, your eyelids feeling heavy as the pain of your headache began to surge. And then, all at once, you shut down.

━✾━

BLINDING LIGHTS BEAMED down into your dilated pupils, and at the intensity of it, you squinted, eyelashes fluttering until you could get yourself used to your surroundings. Your arms felt cold and your legs felt warm, but your head still seemed to feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. With a groan, you turned it over to try and bury your face into the pillow beneath your head.

“Hey, hey, hey,” came a careful voice from above you; it was familiar one, deep and gentle, and when you slightly tilted your head back up to look at the source, the flash of various tufts of white-blonde hair let you know it was Pietro. “Y/N?”

“Mm,” you hummed, shrugging your blanket further up to your neck and snuggling into it further. You went to close your eyes and drift off, but Pietro stopped you.

“C’mon, don’t go back to sleep,” he asked softly. “You’ve been sleeping for ages...”

“Ages?” you murmured groggily, still keeping your eyes gently closed. “How long is ages?”

“Like forty-eight hours,” Pietro told you, and your eyes bolted open. And then, in a flash, it all came rushing back to you; Ultron, the fight, Clint, the kid, Pietro, the bullets—

You sat upright. Your head began to throb in pain, and you grimaced at it, but you stayed upright to look at Pietro. Your eyes scanned his torso, searching desperately for any sign of a bullet wound or some other remnant from the attack back in Sokovia.

“I am fine,” he reassured you, lips curling up in a smile. “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine,” you told him dismissively. “What happened to your wounds? I didn’t heal them properly, you were bleeding so much—”

“I’m all healed, Dragă,” he placed a hand on your upper arm; his hands were warm and calloused, and the touch sent a shiver down your spine. “You took care of me.”

“But... but you—”

“Relax, okay?” he told you, pushing you by the shoulder to guide you back down to your pillow. “Saving me took a lot out of you... I don’t want you straining yourself.”

You let out a small breath, softly nodding your head without a word. Pietro stared at you for a very long moment, cerulean eyes tracing across the dips and curves of your face, his hand twitching where it rested on the edge of your bed. 

“I thought I was dead,” He began in a quiet, fragile tone. You blinked up at him. “In Sokovia. All those bullets right through me…” He paused, running his tongue over his lips. “But… you... you were there.

“It was just darkness. Nothing else, just… empty space,” Pietro shared, staring down at his hands, fiddling with the single ring on his left hand. “And then… I could feel you. Like I was drowning and there was a hand there, pulling me up… and then I opened my eyes and saw…” 

His eyes shifted up to look at you, staring blatantly. Your heart skipped a beat, blinking twice and becoming much too nervous to shift your gaze away. There was something within his eyes, flickering about his pupils and swimming through his iris’; whatever it was, it was a genuine gratitude — or, perhaps, admiration.

Pietro suddenly reached forward and grabbed you by the hand. You made no move to deny his action, letting him take it and fiddle mindlessly with your fingers for a moment before intertwining it with his own. 

“Y/N, you...” he began, looking unsure on what words to say. You stared at him wordlessly, waiting patiently and watching carefully as though his nexts words were the most important ones you’d ever hear. “I love you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He blinked. You watched waves of red wash up his cheeks and ears. “You heard me.”

“You—?”

“Yes,” Pietro nodded firmly, brows furrowing. “I love you. I have since we were kids. Almost dying gave me a wake up call that I have to tell you. And then you passed out, so... I had to wait to tell you, but... you get it.”

You opened your mouth, words not falling out. You loved him, you were sure you did, but the shock of knowing the feeling was mutual made you feel like you were going to pass out again. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” he muttered. “I just wanted you to know. You’re always looking out for me, even if I don’t see it all the time... and you draining yourself to save me proved that you have to be the strongest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of being best friends with.”

“I love you, too,” you managed to say. His brows lifted, eyes brightening. “I would’ve saved you a million times over, even if it killed me. You mean the world to me, Piet, I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself if I hadn’t done what I did...”

“You were knocked out,” Pietro told you, squeezing your hand and sandwiching it with both of his own. “You wouldn’t wake up, it was... it was scary. I’m glad you’re awake, now.”

“Me too,” you offered him a smile, lips curling up shyly. He blinked down at you, and you watched with pride as his cheeks began to turn scarlet; he grinned and shifted his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Sit.”

You scooted yourself over, giving him room to sit down beside you. He complied, snuggling closer to you so your shoulders were pressed against one another. He turned his head to the side, staring, before he took one of his hands off of yours and brought it up to your cheek.

“Can I—” He began, but you shut him up rather quickly by pressing your lips against his, letting your eyes flutter close until all you could feel was him. 

The antiseptic scent of the hospital room was hastily overshadowed by the aroma of his cologne, and the shivers you had from the intense A/C of the room were replaced by his warmth. Your stomach flipped as you pushed yourself closer.

You could feel him grin through the kiss, lips curling upwards as his hands tightened their hold on you; with one palm resting gingerly on the small of your back to push you towards him, the hand that had originally been on your cheek had now tangled itself into your hair, fingers grasping at your scalp. You could have melted.

His tongue swooped across your lips, and you hesitated for a moment before accepting his invitation; there was no battle of dominance between your tongue and his, the pair danced in harmony, and you simply accepting that he would be the one taking over. 

When his mouth lifted from yours, you parted your lips to ask him why, but when you felt him begin to lightly trail kisses down your jaw, you fell speechless and simply sighed. He stopped right at your pulse point, nipping at your skin for a moment before continuing down until he reached the upper part of your collarbone. You sighed contently, letting your head tilt back and bringing your hand up to grip at the back of his hair. 

“I’ll... return later,” came a voice from the door. You and Pietro jolted apart and whipped your heads to the door. Vision stood there rather awkwardly, Wanda at his heels. Wanda was grinning, and you watched her give a thumbs up to Pietro; he returned it.

“Finally,” Wanda drawled, pushing past Vision and settling herself into the room. Pietro’s face had turned scarlet, but he was beaming so brightly you almost didn’t mind Wanda’s interruption. He locked eyes with you, still grinning, and you smiled back. “Took you eighteen years!”

✾✾✾

a/n: my school starts so soon guys i’m genuinely kind of excited... i’ll stop saying that once all my homework starts piling in tho LOL

[lunar-years]

I am in 100% agreement on your "unpopular opinion" about Ted and Jamie. The panic attacks made it seem like there is some connection between Ted Witnessing Bad Fathering from James and it making him feel shit about his own dad and also about how he parents Henry, but none of that extends to Ted and Jamie actually having a father/son dynamic or Ted even seeming to like Jamie any more than anyone else. It also doesn't extend to Ted helping Jamie with his father in any way. The best thing Ted did for Jamie was force Roy to connect with him and then he's basically left them to it, handed Jamie off to Roy. There is very little to imply that Ted and Jamie are close. Maybe people WANT them to be closer, want them to hug and spend time together and talk about big things, but the fact is, that isn't actually how they are. Jamie barely feels comfortable speaking to Ted in general let alone Ted being his go-to person. They have no real relationship to speak of beyond the very general coaching one and sometimes the stuff I see people say is... wild to me. Ted has never even hugged Jamie - Ted in fact never hugs any of the players, only the other coaches. I'm told this may be a Midwestern thing, that it's not appropriate for coaches to touch players in the USA, but that's not how it is in English football.

With the Jamie/Jamie paper, I think that Ted and Beard were trying to compliment Jamie. Reward him for being right about Zava or something. Like hey, you're our star, you took all that with good grace. Little treat for you, Jamie. We wanna make you feel a bit special. But even in doing that, what they think is nice, it's a complete and fundamental misread of who he is. They don't see him. And he shouldn't have had to MAKE them see him, with that tactic at the end of 3.07. That was not his job. They should have known the correct way to use their best player in this tactic. But they either thought he wouldn't want to do it, or didn't think he could do it? All of it leads to the coaches still not really getting Jamie.

I mean, I do think there are interesting threads between Jamie & Ted (that I would like to see resolved in s3, the panic attack connection being one of them), and I would argue that Ted did play an imperative role in shifting Jamie's perspectives in s1 and that he later had a massive impact by allowing him to come back to Richmond when Jamie really needed someone to believe that he could be better. So I do think Jamie values & respects Ted and vis versa, I just don't think they have a father/son relationship or really anything beyond coach/player (as you say, I think Ted is far from Jamie's go-to person, and that's perfectly okay!)

I feel a lot of fans are passionate about assigning Jamie a pseudo-father because they know his own dad is such an utter shit, when in my opinion there's not actually a character on the show who fits that role for Jamie. Also...it's not even a role Jamie needs or necessarily even wants filled at this stage in his life? He has a lot of people who care about him and a big and important found family; he doesn't need a father-figure to be a complete or healed person, and I actually think that's a fundamental part of his arc.

Also, my hot take is that the relationship a lot of people want Jamie to have with Ted is the one Nate actually did have with him. It's just that less people care about Nate, so.

All that said, it's also fandom and if people want Ted & Jamie to have a father/son relationship (and clearly a lot of people do) I'm not faulting them for it. Like go & run free with your popular head-canons! (I personally just don't think there's any basis for it in canon.)

As for the Jamie/Jamie paper...I think the most generous read is that the coaches wanted Jamie to look at himself differently and play around with it on his own, with the expectation that he would come to conclusions similar to what he actually did on the show; while the least generous read is that none of the coaches understand who he is in the slightest or how far he's come and just thought he was gonna throw a huge fit if they didn't keep him up front. Probably the reality is something in between (I mean, I assume Roy contributed to coming up with the pairings, and I do think Roy gets Jamie. But I also agree there is a big gap in understanding in how Beard & Ted view him, and they aren't really seeing him right now in a lot of ways.)

I am gonna give Ted a pass on the hugging thing because yeah, I think that can be chalked up to different coaching styles and differing American versus English sports culture. You can take the man out of Kansas but--

[phantomrose96]

Fenton Fact

Danny leaned back against the red brick chimney of the Casper High roof, and he looked across the stretch of land rolling far off from the building top. For a place so off-limits, so hidden-away from the normal bustle of the school, the view really wasn’t anything special. Sure, the school was decently tall, but it overlooked the staff parking lot, and the empty Casper High tennis courts, and the back of a strip mall two blocks over with the recently-haunted laundromat.

Not that it mattered. It took more than tall-building-views to impress Danny anyway, even the nice ones. And he wasn’t up here for the view.

Danny let his eyes drift shut.

“Sup loner, room for one more?”

Danny startled, and it wasn’t Sam’s voice specifically that startled him. (He’d grown used to her bursting from his Fenton Phone earpiece during most nightly patrols.) He’d just lulled himself a bit too comfortably into the idea that no other human could follow him to the top of the locked rooftop of the Casper High building.

“Did I just surprise a ghost?” Sam asked. “Should I do it again with a ‘boo’?”

“Haha,” Danny answered with a fake chuckle. He blinked himself back to prickly awareness, drowsiness batted away like dust bunnies, and stared up at Sam. “I’m not surprised. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be on the roof. How did you even—”

Sam was a few steps ahead of him. In explanation, she waggled the Fenton-branded grappling hook gripped in hand.

Danny leaned back with a faux-exasperated sigh. “Since when do you even have a grappling hook?”

“Since I told your mom it would be a wildly cool line of gear to add to the Fenton brand.”

“Does this mean my mom now has a grappling hook too?”

“Yes. And your dad. And Jazz. And Tucker.”

“Great. When I go home and all the ceiling fans are torn down I’ll know why.”

A gentle silence lapsed over them, punctuated with the swell of fall wind.

“So…” Sam continued. “Can I sit here?”

“Huh?” Danny looked at her, anchoring his drifting thoughts once more. “Oh, yeah. I thought the ‘yeah’ was implied.” Danny shuffled a bit to the side, back still resting against the chimney. He patted the spot he cleared. “What am I gonna tell you? No?”

“Just making sure.” Sam stowed the grappling hook to the side of her belt and settled into the spot beside Danny, feet outstretched. “In case maybe you wanted some alone time.”

“’Alone time’ isn’t really something I get anymore. I’ve had about a hundred-too-many ghosts crash through my bedroom for that.”

“So why the roof?”

“Roof is more for uh…” Danny twirled his hand, “‘less adoring crowds’ time. ‘Less classmates ogling me’ time. You can stay so long as you don’t ask me to sign anything.”

“I was never interested in the parasocial or capitalistic value of celebrity signatures. Besides, you cross your ‘t’s weird.”

Danny replied with a half-hearted chuckle. His line of sight drifted into the middle-distance again, unfocused.

“Is it getting to be too much?” Sam asked.

“Hmm?” Danny answered, eyes shifting back to her.

Sam gestured broadly, hands and arms outstretched. “You know just. All this. Everything.”

“…Nah.”

Another small silence grew from the cracks in the concrete between them.

“Paulina and Star are looking for you. You know that, right?”

“Oh, are they?”

“Danny. You knew that.”

“Maybe.”

“…And you’re not interested in seeing what they want?”

“I figure Tucker is keeping them busy.”

“You’re unfortunately right.”

“Phantom Phacts?”

“Phantom Phacts.” Sam nodded. “I made him promise to leave out any embarrassing trivia from the trivia section.”

“Thanks for that,” Danny answered. “Is his presentation any good?”

“You think I’ve ever stuck around to hear it?”

“Fair.”

Sam pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin to her knees, staring forward.

“You’re really not interested in sitting with Star and Paulina for lunch?”

“Not really. Why? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s absolutely great. But I’m…” Sam shrugged, “surprised, I guess. I feel like usually you’d jump at the opportunity. And I kinda don’t think you’re refusing because you’ve suddenly recognized the banality of A-lister status.”

“Maybe that is what happened, you don’t know that. Down with capitalism, Sam.”

“Danny.” Sam tilted a fraction to face him. “I’m worried that this is all too much for you, and you just won’t admit it.”

Danny sat with the silence that followed. “I don’t think it’s too much. I’m just—I dunno. I mean. I’m just not feeling it.”

“…You can admit if it’s overwhelming, Danny. I’ll be the first to shut down ‘Phantom Phacts’ if it is.”

“Nah, nah let Tucker have his fun. He’s not the problem. It’s… I dunno.” Danny pushed himself taller against the chimney, upright now and unslumped. “It’s a little bit overwhelming, I guess, maybe. But it’s kind of what I expected. Maybe even a little easier than I was expecting. I thought I’d be dealing with a lot of Phantom-hate once everyone knew but, I guess that kind of died down a long time before everyone knew.”

“Valerie holding you at gunpoint in the cafeteria wasn’t Phantom-hate?”

“We’ve had a lot of good talks since then, okay?”

Sam let out a quiet laugh. “So then… why aren’t you sitting with the popular kids right now?”

“I just didn’t want to, I guess?”

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“It just didn’t really feel right.”

“Is it because of me?” Sam asked, another side-long glance cast to Danny. “Because you can sit with them. I’ll still make fun of you if you do, but you don’t have to… not sit with them because of me.”

“What? Huh—no. Nah, nah I mean I do care what you think Sam. But I mean if I wanted to be sitting with them then I would so. I mean. You don’t have to worry that it’s you.”

“So then what is it?”

Danny took a moment to answer.

“It’s just… it’s a feeling. I dunno. Like.” Danny spread his arms out. “The invitation is wrong? Or the invitation isn’t actually for me?”

“…The invitation is for Phantom instead?”

Pensive indecision set into Danny’s eyes. “That’s not totally it. Because I mean I AM Phantom. I’m not not me when I’m Phantom. Maybe I trash-talk a little more in ghost form but I’m not… not me. That’s still just me. You know that.”

“Right, yeah, no Danny. It just sounded like that’s what you were saying.” Sam let her legs slide out a few inches. “So what are you saying?”

Danny sat with the question. “When the news first picked up on Phantom, way back when—Inviso-Bill?—that wasn’t really anyone, you know? They made up some spooky icon to make the news about. Which was just like, whatever, not me. I didn’t even take ‘Inviso-Bill’ too personally because that just wasn’t me. And even when I stopped being an enemy and started actually being ‘Danny Phantom’… no one actually got it right, you know? They kind of came up with a character for me. Just some hero. I listen to the news and how they talk about me and I think, even now, I think ‘That isn’t me.’”

Danny pulled his knees in, a mirror to Sam, and stared down into his tattered jean fabric. “And when everyone learned I’m Phantom I guess I kind of expected them to be like ‘Oh it’s Fenton’ and then that fake version of Phantom would go away.” Danny raised his eyes to Sam, far more bothered than before. “…I think the opposite happened. They don’t look at Phantom and think ‘oh it’s Fenton’. They look at Fenton and think ‘oh it’s Phantom.’ I think Danny Fenton got put away. I think the person I was for 14 years doesn’t exist to them anymore. Whoever they invited to lunch isn’t me. He doesn’t exist. But I’m suddenly responsible for him. And it’s not even me.”

Danny paused. “And now I’ve been wondering like… how long until I disappoint them? You know? How long until I do something that makes them angry because I’m not doing the thing they expect ‘Phantom’ to do? How long until they start seeing there’s too much ‘Fenton’ in me and they start to hate me for it all over again? For them to really like me, I don’t think I can be me, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to be someone who doesn’t just disappoint everyone in the end.”

A long gust of wind swept between them, stealing away the seconds.

“…So now you’re hiding on the roof.”

“It was the easiest solution to my problem.”

“But not a lasting one, if you ever want to get down.” The wind settled, and Sam swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “…Do you care if you disappoint them?”

Danny shrugged. “I. Yeah. I think. I don’t—I don’t think I totally know for certain, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Well, you’re not going to disappoint me, or Jazz, or Tucker—and if Tucker does act disappointed over any lost Phantom Phacts ventures I’ll whap him over the head. But I mean, we know who you are. We’re not going to be disappointed realizing you’re not ‘Phantom.’ The worst you can do is land right back where you started.”

“And what if I started acting like ‘Phantom’ instead. Would that disappoint you guys?”

“Do you want to act like ‘Phantom’?”

Danny paused. “…No. Not at all.”

“Then don’t. It’s that simple.” Sam stood, and she stretched until her back popped. “It’s not your responsibility to uphold whatever delusions people project onto you. I won’t hesitate to call them out on it. You know I’m good at being direct, and you know I’m even better at making enemies.”

“I don’t wanna be mean to them though when they’re finally being nice.”

“They’re not being nice, they’re projecting. If their niceness to you is conditional on you fitting to the box they created for you, that’s not nice, that’s manipulation, and it’s exactly the root of my ever-frothing disdain for popularity. It’s always some element about popular people that people latch on to, and they can fit the box that people give them, or they can reject it and find themselves wallowing amongst us outcasts. Don’t do that to yourself, Danny. Don’t live in their chains.” Sam tilted her head to Danny. “You spend all day trapping ghosts into tight little boxes and you can’t even recognize when it’s happening to you. I think you’d be better at spotting this.”

“It’s a cylinder, really. The thermos. It’s a cylinder. And don’t say ‘box’ so much. You might summon company.”

“You just said ‘box’ though.”

“I did say ‘box’.”

“Box.”

“Box.”

Sam laughed, noise trailing light on her lips. “…Feeling any better?”

“A little, I think… I still… I still think I... it's not as easy to just say 'I don't care if I disappoint them.' It's still scary. I don’t want to end up proving them right that they were right to hate me all along.”

“Are the opinions of Dash Baxter really the ones to be holding on a pedestal? Is his opinion of you really more important than what you think of yourself? You’ve been through this with the A-listers already. Don’t torture yourself again just because the door is wide open. I promise you Danny, it won’t make you happy.”

“So I should just do whatever makes me happy?”

“Every time.” Sam nodded.

"Even if I'm a total disappointing loser?"

"All the better."

"Even if I blow any chance I have with Paulina out the window?"

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Got any idea what you intend to say to her when she finds you?”

Danny paused. He pushed himself standing. “Maybe I could talk her ear off about NASA until she gets bored of me?”

“Excellent. Can I join? I have a lot to say about SpaceX and private capital encroaching on space exploration.”

“Does that apply to me? I’ve been to space. Am I private capital?”

“You’re not private capital.”

“Then what am I?”

“Annoying.” Sam locked arms with Danny, and dragged him along forward, her combat boots clunking against the rooftop. “And my friend. Come on. I’ll brief you on everything wrong with privately-owned space exploration while we’re rappelling down the side of the building with my sick and cool as hell grappling hook.”

“I can fly.”

“And I have a sick grappling hook. What’s your point.”

“It’s probably called a ‘Fenton Hook.’”

“Is that a Phantom Phact?”

Danny shook his head, and a smile pulled on his lips. “Nah. I think it’s a Fenton Fact.”

[aminiatureworld]

Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something. 

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

 Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Waiting for you - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

i wrote it over like a month ago, but kept it for today, i hope yall will like it! it’s a cute bestfriends to lovers fic, so yeah... happy holidays, hope you are having an amazing time!

word count: 13k

masterlist

Harry Styles has been a household name around your home, but not for the reason many would think. While for the rest of the world he was the famous singer, former member of One Direction and recent solo artist, the guy who performs at the biggest arenas, wins awards and sings his heart out through the radio, for you and your mom he was the goofy, curly haired boy who lived across the street with his mum, sister and stepdad.

You still remember all too clear the first time you met him. You and your mum just moved into your new home after the nasty divorce of your parents, ready to start a new life. You’ve barely turned twelve, it was quite the awkward stage of your teenage years, you were still trying to find yourself on the rocky road of growing up. Moving to a whole new town and switching schools were terrifying and you had quite a few nightmares about possible outcomes of being the new girl in the neighborhood.

You and your mum just finished unpacking the dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She rushed to answer it and you wandered behind her, curiously peeking at the guests under her arm as she held the door open.

“Hi! We saw the trucks and thought we would say hi! I’m Anne and this is my son, Harry,” the nice woman greeted your mum and stepping aside she gestured towards the teenage boy standing next to her.

His green eyes fell to you almost immediately and you forgot to breathe for a moment. You were not the kind to crush that easily on guys, well, not until you laid your eyes on Harry. He smirked at you, nodding in your way in such an easy-going manner and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

Anne and your mum quickly became good friends. She was the rock your mum definitely needed after such a bad year behind her and you were glad she found support in such a wonderful woman as Anne. Their newly funded friendship got stronger day by day until the two families just… simply felt one.

Growing up the Styles siblings and Anne came and go in your home as if they lived there too. On many occasions you came home from school only to find Anne in the kitchen while your mother wasn’t even home. Anne always knew when your mum was working the night shift at the hospital where she was a nurse and always made sure you had a warm dinner on those evenings, often inviting you over to just stay at theirs while your mum was away working. Birthdays, graduations, Easters and Christmases, they were all spent at either yours or at the Styles home, strengthening the bond between the two families.

You have always had a strong friendship with Gemma, but maybe because you were closer in age or for something else, but you became the closest with Harry. Two peas in a pod, as your mums liked to call the two of you. You weren’t just neighbors or good friends, it was clear to anyone and to both of you as well that you were the best of friends. You were there for each other at the best and worst of times, before and after Harry’s launch to stardom. You were there with him all along, sometimes physically, sometimes just through text messages and reassuring calls when he just needed a piece of his home away from home. Late night calls and talks were your usual when he was on the road and he made sure to only talk about his life after you’ve told him everything about yours, even if the most interesting thing was that you were able to buy three socks for the price of two. Harry listened and cared for everything that happened to you, not letting you think even for a moment that he would forget about his best friend when he is on the other side of the planet.

The two of you grew up together and while his life consisted of concerts, screaming fans, telly appearances and award shows, your mundane everydays went on the same was as any normal young girl’s: you graduated from high school, went to uni and then started a career for yourself. As time was moving it became a little more and more complicated to stay as close as you used to, though, both of you terribly busy with your own personal lives, so the calls, texts and meetings became less frequent, but you were always able to pick up from where you left, it was as easy with him as it could be.

Maybe that’s why you grew to love him in a more than friendly way through the years. Slowly, but surely you started to realize what an amazing man he really was –is. It was impossible not to fall for him, however you valued your close friendship more than to just ruin it with dropping a bomb on Harry. You always thought he doesn’t feel the same way, so you were sadly left with your daydreams and fantasies about him only your bedroom walls heard.

This year it’s gonna be the tenth Christmas you get to celebrate together, quite the anniversary. There were only two years when you didn’t see each other during the holidays, the first one because you and your mum spent it in Canada with some relatives that live there, and the second one was because Harry couldn’t come home a few years ago, having a too tight schedule. But this year, everyone made sure to make it back home in time. Harry called you three month before Christmas to check in if you are still gonna coming home.

“Would be an idiot not to. Can’t wait to stuff my head with cookies!” you chuckled.

“Have you found your sweater yet?” Harry questioned, the muffled noise of the traffic around him broke through the line as he was on his way home when he called.

“Not yet. But I’ve been looking. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win this year,” you smirked in victory.

“Oh, not so fast with the assumptions, little girl!” he warned you making you laugh.

The two of you had a kind of tradition. Every year, you go on mission to find the ugliest Christmas sweaters one could find, and then perform a chosen song at the karaoke machine after dinner, entertaining the rest of the family. Those performances are the best memories you nurse. Your absolute favorite one was just a couple of years ago when Harry’s sweater was filled with weird looking reindeers in quite inappropriate poses, he even added a glittery pair of sunnies and he sang I Want To Break Free from the Queen. Everyone was on the floor laughing as he took the living room by storm as if it was the Maddison Square Garden filled with thousands of screaming fans, while it was just the five of you.

He won that year, Hell, even you voted on him, giving him the cleanest win of all times, but you swore to live up to that performance and you really feel like this year is gonna be your chance to live up to that promise. You have quite some tricks up your sleeves.

These past couple of years you were anxiously waiting for the holidays to roll around, because you knew you would get to spend so much time with Harry and through the year, even with several occasions of the two of you meeting, you missed him dearly. Sometimes you selfishly wished he would have just stayed the boy across the street so your lives could take tracks that run at least close to each other, but you always reminded yourself that his work was his life and you would have never taken away his true passion and happiness. Besides, you love watching him perform from time to time, that was just one of your favorite sides of him, see his eyes shine so bright as he sang to his fans. You used to envy the fangirls, it always seemed like he had a special connection with them, but you realized that you were one of them. You felt the same excitement when he stepped on the stage, you bought all his albums, even though he made sure you’d be one of the first people to get your hands on it. You had a second copy of them, because buying it gave you the extra jolt of happiness and the feeling that you were a tiny part of his success too. You watched all his music videos, knew the lyrics to his songs and cheered on him whenever he won another award. Difference was that at the end of the day you could call him and tell him how proud you were of him and he stared back at you with that beautiful grin, his dimples digging deep in his cheeks, telling you that he wouldn’t be here without you. You always knew he just said it to make you feel special, but he insisted it was the truth.

“I’m telling you. It you weren’t with me I would have gone crazy already, pulling a Justin Bieber or summat. Don’t think you are any less than what you are, that’s just daft.”

Every time he said something along those lines those damned butterflies in your stomach went crazy and you tried your best to ignore them. You didn’t always succeed, but the effort was there.

 Now it’s two days before Christmas and you are already standing in your old room after coming home from London, leaving your small but cozy little apartment empty until the next year. The walls are still the same lilac color you chose when you were fourteen, a twin bed is pushed against the wall under your window, the wardrobe’s door is littered with old pictures from high school and ones you cut out from magazines. You just never got around to take them down and after a while it brought you a comforting sense every time you came home. A warm nostalgia took over you when you saw them, so they eventually stayed.

Your suitcase is lying on the floor as you unpack some stuff you’ll be using often during your stay, but you don’t get far in the packing when you hear an all too familiar voice coming from downstairs. Leaving your stuff as it is you rush down and throw your arms around Anne from behind, who is standing in the kitchen with your mum.

“My sweet angel! How are you?!” she cheers turning around in your hold to hug you back, giving you a tight squeeze before she pushes you away so she can have a good look on you. “Swear you get prettier every time I see you!”

“Stop it, my head’s gonna get big,” you chuckle feeling yourself blushing a little.

“Never gonna stop praising my daughter,” she smiles and gifts you with a cheeky wink.

Anne was never shy to let you know that she thought of you as a second daughter and you still remember how it felt when she called you that for the first time. It felt nice to know that you could count on her no matter what.

The three of you chat in the kitchen, Anne asks you about your job and how things have been going, she hasn’t seen you in a while. You missed the times when you could just go across the street and have a talk with her whenever you wanted, but since you’ve moved to London, Harry wasn’t the only one you didn’t get to see as often as you would have wanted. Your job and life overall got you so busy sometimes, you barely had time to call your own mum.

“Harry is arriving this evening. Wanna come with us to fetch him up at the airport?” she asks you and of course you say yes. You wouldn’t miss the chance to greet him with a bone crushing hug just after he lands.

However, as the time nears when you’d have to leave to the airport, Anne calls you up and asks if you could go on your own.

“I didn’t finish cooking and Gems is in an online meeting. Would you mind if you went alone?” she asks and though it sounds a little made up, you don’t question her.

On your way to the airport you are nervously drumming on the wheel, the thought of seeing Harry excites and worries you a little. It’s been months since you last seen him in the flesh and though you’ve talked plenty of times on the phone and in video calls, it’s just not the same. You find yourself wondering if he still smells the same, if you’ll fit the same way into his embrace as before. When you were younger you often liked to think about the two of you as two pieces of legos when you hugged. Your frame just fitted so perfectly against his body, he was your absolutely favorite person to hug.

Standing in a corner at the terminal, you keep checking the board until his flight’s status changes to landed. Then your eyes are glued to the sliding glass doors, knowing well it’s gonna take him some time to get his bags and walk out, but you are just way too excited to finally see him again.

People start walking through the doors and your head perks up every time you see a slightly tall frame, only to realize it’s still not him. Until it is.

You can’t bite your growing smile back when you spot him, a beanie and the hood of his hoodie covering his mop of hair, sunnies hiding his eyes, but you’d recognize him even from just the tiniest detail. You push yourself away from the wall as you see him look around, probably searching for his mum and sister, because he was already on his way when Anne decided it’s gonna be you who fetches him up, so he doesn’t know about the change.

“Excuse me, can I get a picture?” you ask teasingly walking up to him and for a moment you can tell he believes it’s a fan who recognized him, but his face quickly changes once his eyes land on you.

“Fo’ fuck’s sake, you had me for a second,” he breathes out, his arms already reaching out to pull you against him and you gladly envelop yourself into his hold. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles tightening his arms around you, and you don’t mind it. As you face is pressed into his shoulder you smile when you realize that he still smells the same. Like home.

“Your mum asked me to come and get you because she didn’t finish cooking. But if you ask me she just wanted to surprise you with me. You happy to see me?” you smirk up at him letting your head fall back so you could look into his eyes.

“Always,” he grins before placing a soft kiss to your temple and letting go of you.

The two of you leave the terminal before anyone could recognize him and packing his stuff up into the car you head back home.

You hand your phone over to him once you hit the road so he can be in charge of the music and it’s no surprise when he starts playing Christmas music straight away. Grinning to yourself you glance over at him and see him scrolling through your camera roll like the nosy little gremlin that he is.

“Hey! I did not give you permission to snoop around my phone!” you warn him, but don’t try to snatch it away from him, there’s really nothing he shouldn’t see, besides, half of those pics have been sent to him through messages.

“Just tryna catch up w’ you,” he mumbles under his breath, continuously opening up photos he is interested in. “New couch, eh?” he asks showing you the screen for a second.

“Yeah, bought it a few weeks ago. You like it?”

“Looks comfy. I should try it out sometime.”

“You never sleep on my couch, what are you talking about?”

“Right, you always drag me t’ your bed,” he snorts and you gasp at him, smacking his chest gently.

“That’s so not true! You always just arbitrarily make yourself comfortable in my bed and I don’t have the heart to kick you out,” you correct him.

There hasn’t been many times when Harry crashed at your place, but when he did, he always slept in your bed with you, and the two of you have shared a bed a few other times prior too. It’s nothing new, though it does have a deeper meaning for you than for him, you think. Waking up with Harry snoring lightly next to you, admiring how peaceful and beautiful he is in this intimate state, you just wish you could see him like this all the time.

Harry smirks at you cheekily, scrunching his nose as he chuckles.

“’Cause I wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere else, Love,” he says before turning his attention back to your phone while you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the nickname.

It’s quite late by the time you get home, you’ve run into some traffic, but it just meant more time with Harry. You gladly listened to his stories and you are happy you got some alone time with him. Parking up to your driveway you help him unload his bags before locking the car.

“Wanna go to the Christmas market in the morning? Promised Gemma I’d go with her and Michal,” he asks, slowly walking down the driveway towards his home.

“Uh, sure,” you nod smiling. Not that you had any other plans, the holidays are reserved for family and the Styles’ are family.

“Great, I’ll be here at ten. And thanks for the ride,” he smirks waving goodbye and you watch him cross the street before he disappears in his home and you do the same.

“Y/N? Is that you?” your mum calls out when you walk in.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” you ask, hanging your coat before you join her in the living room.

“Not,” she smiles giddily. “Was everything alright at the airport?”

You throw your legs over her lap and she squeezes your ankles playfully.

“Yeah, everything fine.”

“How is Harry?”

“Cheeky and smug, as always,” you huff smirking.

“Can’t wait to see him. I feel like I haven’t seen ‘im in ages.”

“When are they coming over tomorrow?”

“Anne said she’ll come around four to help me cook, the rest I don’t know. Dinner will be done around seven though.”

“I’m pretty sure Gemma and Harry will be here along with Anne,” you snort, knowing well they wouldn’t miss a chance to come over, especially Harry. He has been talking nonstop how he’ll be glued to your hip once he is back home, making up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

“They surely will,” your mum chuckles before you both turn your attention at the telly.

You go to bed way after midnight and finish up the packing you left abruptly when you left to get Harry. Shuffling around in your room you glance out the window and see that the light in Harry’s room is on too. Peeking out you lean against the window’s frame, thinking about the times when the two of you sat in the window, talking on the phone after curfew, keeping your voice down so your parents didn’t wake up, sharing secrets and your silliest thoughts. With Harry, you never felt like you had to keep anything back, he would have never judged you for anything, you could be your true self around him and vice versa.

A tall figure appears at the window and as Harry glances out his window he is quick to see you sitting on the window sill, your head resting against the frame. The two houses are not far away from each other and you see him grinning as he sits at the window as well, pulling out his phone, a moment later yours starts buzzing on the nightstand. You quickly grab it, and go back to the window.

“Creeping on me, eh?” he hums into the phone and you roll your eyes at him.

“Was just admiring the street lights, don’t flatter yourself, your head is getting too big,” you huff, but you can’t push your smirk down.

“Admit it, you were hoping to see me roam around naked, weren’t you?”

“As if I haven’t seen you like that before,” you snort making him laugh too. It’s true, Harry has never been shy to get rid of his clothes and he also doesn’t bother to draw the blinds whenever he is changing. You once saw him butt naked when he was nineteen, and when you told him to close the blinds next time he is changing, he just shrugged with a smug smile.

“’M not ashamed of anything, Love,” he told you and you had to turn away because you were blushing for sure.

“Right, you’re a fan of putting yourself on full display when you’re naked, almost forgot,” you chuckle shaking your head. “Millions of girls have the picture of you, lying naked on their walls.”

“You one of them?” he cheekily asks.

“Nah, doesn’t go well with the vibe of my apartment.”

“Shame. Though I think it would definitely look amazin’ above your bed, Love.”

“Now would it? I don’t know about that.”

“I’ll get you a copy framed,” he smirks and you can see it clear even from the distance. “Y’ know what? I’ll make you an exclusive one. One that nobody else has, how does that sound?”

“I can’t believe you, Styles,” you chuckle shaking your head. “I’m not gonna answer this, just gonna head to bed. You should too.”

“So we’re not sharing any secrets like we used to? Thought you’d have something fo’ me.”

“You know everything, Harry,” you sigh with a soft smile, though your heart skips a beat. He does know everything, except one big, fat, heavy secret you’ve been carrying around for way too long, that will probably stay with you forever.

“Right. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Night, Harry.”

“Good night, Love,” he murmurs and you know he is smiling, thought he steps away from the window as he says goodbye and you do the same before ending the call.

 ***

 “Hey! That’s mine!” you protest as Harry steals another roasted chestnut from your little paper bag, but you can’t stay mad at him when he is smiling at you so sweetly.

“Sorry, tastes better when it’s someone else’s.”

“Sure,” you snort and just let him get as many as he wants. You wouldn’t have eaten it all anyway.

It’s quite cold out in the town, but at least there’s no rain or storm, so the weather didn’t try to ruin your little trip to the Christmas market.

Gemma calls out for Harry to show him something and you just keep wandering between the booths, enjoying the atmosphere quite a lot, you have no idea when was the last time you got to come to the market, though you always loved coming when you were younger.

Finishing up your chestnuts you throw the paper bag into a trash can and turn around to find the rest of your little group, spotting Harry and Gemma deep in discussion next to a booth that offers handmade ceramic mugs. As you walk closer it almost seems like as if they were having a fight, which is just odd, they rarely do that.

“Just get your head out of your arse!” you catch Gemma telling her brother who only groans in frustration before he spots you, a smile plastering across his face.

“Hey, there you are!” he beams.

“Everything alright?” you ask looking at them.

“Sure, just Gemma is being a little nosy, is all,” Harry waves in dismiss. You glance over to Gems, but she is already back in discussion with Michal so you decide to drop it. “You ate all the chestnuts?” Harry asks offended, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Well, it was mine, so of course I ate them!”

“Selfish,” he narrows his eyes at you, but you both know it’s just a joke.

You walk further down in the aisle, occasionally stopping at some of the booth when you spot a place that offers hot chocolate in cute little mugs that you can take home with you if you’d like, or just take it back and get your money back.

“Oh look!” you gasp excitedly and head towards the hot chocolate booth. The old lady smiles brightly at the two of you as you take a look at all the choices. “Oh my god, they have caramel flavored!” you cheer, basically already drooling at the thought of a good, caramel flavored hot chocolate.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?” the lady smiles warmly at the two of you and you freeze at her assumption.

“Oh we—“ you start, but Harry cuts you off.

“A caramel flavored and a plain one, please,” he orders, without even batting an eye about how the lady just called you a couple. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the thought, but you try to calm yourself. He probably just didn’t want to get into explaining that you two are not an item and let her think what she wanted.

The nice lady hands you your mug and you take Harry’s as well as he pays for both of them. You would try to argue with him and pay yours, but you are already used to how stubborn he is and he never lets you split anything, it’s always on him.

“Thank you, have a nice day!” Harry calls out to the lady before the two of you leave. You peek at him handing him his mug, looking for any clue that would give away if this little scene got him just as bothered as it did you, but he looks perfectly fine and relaxed, so you decide not to bring it up. You’re sure he didn’t think much of it.

Your little stroll stretches into the afternoon, the four of you decide to have lunch out there too, then you just opt for a walk in town as Gemma wants to do a quick last minute Christmas shopping, so by the time you get home Anne is already over at yours helping your mum with dinner. Tonight you are all eating at yours, then tomorrow it’s the Styles’ turn to host, this is how you agreed this year.

“Woah, it smells amazing!” you call out walking into the house. The delicious smells fill up the whole place and you hear the two women giggling in the kitchen.

“Hi Honey, how was the market?” your mum greets you, a glass of red wine in her hand and the same goes for Anne.

“Great, we have a new mug,” you say holding up the emptied out hot chocolate mug. Stepping to the sink you wash it quickly and drying off you put it away in one of the cabinets.

You stick around in the kitchen and not so much later Harry comes over, the two of you leave your mums alone and get comfortable in front of the telly.

All channels are filled with holiday movies and you don’t mind, really, you like them all even if you’ve seen them a million times, you still find them funny and cute. Harry feels the same way, so when you settle on Love Actually he doesn’t say a word.

What startles you is that he grabs your ankles and pulls your legs over his lap, a small shriek escaping your mouth since you weren’t expecting him to do that. You’re sitting sideways, your legs are bent at the knee and Harry is kind of hugging them as his eyes are glued to the screen.

You find it rather hard to focus on the movie when Harry’s fingers keep fidgeting on your legs, they keep running up and down, sometimes he lays his hands flat on your knees, there’s no spot he hasn’t touched since you started watching the movie.

About an hour into the film he turns to you and you look at him in question.

“’M in the mood to cuddle,” he announces and starts moving around, not even letting you protest as he basically crawls to your lap, resting his head on your stomach as the two of you lay on the couch.

“Am I now your personal pillow?” you ask chuckling, but you wouldn’t want him to move for anything. Feeling him weigh down on you just feels so warm and simple but amazing.

“The best one,” he mumbles, bringing a hand to your side as you let your fingers comb through his curls.

You keep massaging his scalp and he lets out soft moans when you go over a soft spot, you can’t help but chuckle as he melts under your hands. His fingers start drawing circles on your side and the movie is long forgotten by you, all you can focus on is how great it is to have Harry so close to you. He is known to be a physical person, you are used to hugs and touches, but it seems like he is a little needier now than the usual.

You don’t mind it though, you just try to enjoy the moment, because it can end anytime.

Gemma and Michal come over a little before seven, and while your mums finish up the cooking the four of you set the table. You grab the crystal glasses and start placing them to the table, Harry lending you a hand. Once the table is all set you shuffle into the kitchen to see if there’s anything you can help with, Harry following you behind, placing a hand to the small of your back.

As you stand and wait for you mum to finish up the meals so you can help carry them to the table you feel Harry’s hand wander over to your hip, giving it a squeeze as he stands closer, so his chest is pressed against your back.

“Harry?” you ask a little out of breath.

“Hm?” he innocently hums.

“What’s with you today?” Turning your head to the side your eyes lock with his, but he just shrugs smiling.

“Guess I just missed yeh a lot.”

“You’re weird,” you chuckle shaking your head, but don’t make an effort to push him away. His touch feels way too good to put an end to it and you just want to be selfish a little longer.

His hands leave you when the two of you help to bring the food to the table, and you almost wish they would just return, but you gotta swallow the thought.

The food is amazing, as always. You all sip on some wine, just having a genuinely good time, enjoying that all of you are back at one place, something that rarely happens now that all three of you kids are all grown up.

At one point Harry rests his arm on the back of your chair, no one seems to notice but you. All these little things have been driving you crazy all day and your mind seems to be playing a nasty game with you. There’s no way Harry thinks of these details more than what they are, a friendly gesture towards an old friend of his.

When Gemma is telling a story about some weird guy she met at work Harry reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear, his finger lingering over your neck a little longer than you would have expected. Turning to face him you give him a questioning look, not sure what to think about his needy and touchy self all of a sudden.

“What?” you mouth him, but he just smiles at you absentmindedly, curling a strand of hair around his finger, playing with it for a moment before letting go of it and going for another lock. You reach up and pull his hand away, feeling yourself heating up from his touch, but when you are about to let go of his hand he grabs yours, lacing your fingers together with yours as he rests them on his thigh.

“Harry…” you breathe out, glancing at the others, relieved to see that they are not paying much attention to the two of you.

“What? Am I not allowed to touch you?” he asks with a smug smirk and you roll your eyes at him.

“As I said, you’re weird,” you mumble under your breath looking down at your now empty plate. Harry gives your hand a squeeze.

“But like, the good kind of weird, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you chuckle shaking your head at him.

You try to tell yourself he is just needy because it’s been so long since you last saw each other. It can’t be more, you push even the smallest thought to the back of your mind, though it surely lingers there throughout the evening.

He helps you with washing the dishes, you stand arm to arm at the sink as you scrub the plates and hand over to him for drying. He gently hums to himself all along, swaying his hips, bumping against yours. At first you resist it, but then you catch the rhythm and start moving along, so your hips meet in the middle before swinging to the opposite side.

“What’s the song?” you ask finishing up the last plate.

“Just something random,” he shrugs smirking over at you. You hand him the last plate, he is still singing, making up gibberish lyrics to his song and once he puts the plate down he throws the kitchen cloth to the counter and easily grabs your waist pulling you against him as he starts swaying with you to his impromptu song. You let out a small shriek at the sudden movement, but eventually melt into his hold. The humming slowly turns into an all too familiar melody as Harry starts singing Sweet Creature into your ear, slow dancing in the kitchen while you hear your mums and Gemma laugh outside somewhere.

Your hands run up his arms and stop behind his neck as you lock your fingers and let him hold you close, his palms are pressed to your waist, fingers gently stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You take a deep breath and his cologne fills your nose, one of your favorite scents, sometimes you just wish you could spray it on your pillow so it would always smell like him.

“Sweet creature, wherever I go, you bring me home…” he softly sings, leaning back just enough for your eyes to meet. It feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest, it’s not the first time you feel so intimidated by him, like you could pass out any moment, but this is a little different. As if his eyes were telling you another story, but you can’t completely make up the words.

“Sweet creature, when I run out of road, you bring me home, you’ll bring me home.” He finishes the song, hums the closing melody and you watch him in complete awe. Your lips part when you catch his gaze move down to them and you swear you see him leaning closer, as if he is about to kiss you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he is so close, just a few more inches and you’d taste those perfect lips of his, the ones you’ve been dreaming about for way too long.

It almost happens, it seems, but just when that last push is about to set in Gemma waltz into the kitchen and you step back faster than light, pushing him away even though the sudden lack of his touch is more painful than you were expecting.

“You guys—Oh, what’s up?” she asks stopping at the door and you feel yourself getting redder with each passing moment, the heat crawling up your neck, ears cheeks, right to the top of your head. What were you thinking? You let yourself believe Harry would ever kiss you, this whole scene was nothing more than just a friendly moment the two of you were sharing.

“I’m—sorry,” you breathe out making your way out of the kitchen, right up to your room to have some well needed space.

“Way to ruin everything,” Harry snickers at his sister.

“You joking? You wanted to kiss her in her mum’s kitchen?” Gemma snaps at him in disbelief.

“We were having a moment,” he mumbles rubbing his face with his hands. “Up until you stomped in with your big mouth.”

“Well, if you were havin’ a moment, just make it happen again.”

“As if it’s that easy, Gemma!” he scoffs throwing his hands in the air.

“Man up and tell her how you feel, don’t have to complicate it too much,” she shrugs before walking out and leaving her brother alone. Harry growls in frustration, the gears in his head turning wildly as he is trying to figure out how to come clear to you about his feelings.

 Meanwhile, up in your room you get out your laptop and busy yourself with checking up on messages and emails you’ve been ignoring, hoping that the uneasy feeling in your chest will ease very soon. Your hands were shaking when you locked yourself up in your room, but as you get focused on other tasks you slowly gain your balance back.

You kind of even forget that the Styles’ were over, you only realize that you abruptly pulled yourself out of the evening when there’s a soft knock on your door.

“Come on in!” you call out and a moment later Harry’s head pops in, eyes softly falling on your sitting figure on the bed. “Hey,” you smile at him faintly.

“Hey. Thought you were sleepin’s or summat.” Coming inside he closes the door behind him then sits on your plush rug in the middle of the room.

“Just… sorted some work related things out,” you sigh.

“Working during the holidays? Tha’s not healthy.”

“I know, I’m done,” you smile shutting the laptop down and putting it aside. “Sorry I disappeared, I just—“

“No worries,” Harry shakes his head. “Mum and Gems went home, they thought you were sleeping too, tha’s why they didn’t say goodbye.”

“Oh, alright.”

“But I thought we could have a sleepover,” he peeks at you with a boyish smile.

“What, like we did in middle school?” you chuckle.

“Yea, thought it would be fun.”

“Well, I don’t think my bed would fit us comfortably and we don’t have the mattress anymore that you used to sleep on,” you tell him looking around.

“Nonsense, I’m not tha’ big,” he insists hopping to his feet and throwing himself on the bed, ignoring that you’re already there. His body takes up more than half on the bed , limbs wrapping around you as he brings you down to the mattress next to him, you can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips.

“You’re like a gigantic baby, Harry!” you laugh as he keeps you down on the bed with his arm.

“It’s perfectly fine for two people,” he mumbles with a smirk, closing his eyes as his head sinks into your pillow.

“Do you ever get no as an answer?” you ask looking at him in awe. You can never get used to seeing him so up close, like not many get to.

“No,” he huffs in satisfaction, his arm bringing you closer to him and you just giggle at him.

“I’m not sleeping just yet, gotta have a shower first.”

“Do what you want, I’ll be here,” he mumbles but you snort at him.

“You’re not sleeping in my bed without having a shower,” you tell him before you grab your pajamas and head to the bathroom.

You have a quick shower and get done with all your evening business. Returning to your room you find Harry sitting on the floor, his back against the side of the bed as he is scrolling through his phone.

“Does mum know you’re staying over?” you ask him as you throw your used clothes into the hamper, moving around the room while feeling his eyes on you.

“Yeah. ‘S all good.”

“You need a towel?”

“Yes please,” he says pushing himself up from the floor.

“Clothes?” you ask with an arched brow. He just grins at you and it’s enough of an answer. “Here,” you give him the shirt and sweats he has left at yours quite some time ago, along with a clean towel.

“Thanks,” he smirks before leaving to occupy the bathroom.

He doesn’t take long in there, you’re lying in bed already when he returns, smelling like your shower gel, strawberry and melon.

He throws his clothes to the chair in the corner and then lies beside you on the bed. You scoot over to the wall to give him space, but he is quick to bring you closer to him once he has made himself comfortable. You lay your head on his shoulder as you are both scrolling through your phones.

When you had enough, you throw yours to the nightstand, and stay cuddled up to his side.

“Do you remember the last time I slept here?” he asks tossing his phone to the nightstand and bringing his arms around you.

“Mm, was it at my twentieth birthday?”

“Yeah. You were so wasted,” he chuckles and you smirk to yourself

“But you took good care of me.”

“I did. You were so cute, rambling about how much you love me when I took you home from the pub.”

You bite into your bottom lip. You still remember that night vividly. Your birthday party had gone a little wild and you had gotten drunker than you intended to. Luckily, he was there to bring your home and he stayed in the bathroom with you as you threw up everything you ate and drank that evening. Then he made you take a shower, got you fresh clothes out and helped you get into bed. He slept next to you that night, holding you in his arms, gently caressing your back and upper arm as you fell into your drunken slumber. In the morning you told yourself he just did what any other friend would do, helping you out when you were clearly knocked out, but he made you breakfast in the morning since your mum was working all night and morning and he stayed over later the afternoon to make sure you were alright.

What you told him in your drunken state about loving him, it wasn’t just your friendly side, it was your drunken self coming clear to him, telling him that you are in love with him, but he didn’t take it seriously and you were too ashamed and awkward to even bring it up to him after that, so it was all forgotten very soon.

Following that you planned on telling him how you feel, several times. You even wrote a little speech you planned to give him when the time comes, but you couldn’t do it. The fear of losing him if he doesn’t feel the same was stronger than you expected and every time you had the chance to come clear, you chickened out. The thought of losing him as a friend is way worse than having to push your feelings down... forever. You just can’t imagine your life without Harry in it and you can’t risk losing him.

The two of you talk for quite a while, laughing about the good old times, until you both fall asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up and feel Harry wrapped around you, his head lying on your chest as he is snoring softly. He truly is like a big baby, an arm thrown over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours. Good Lord, how amazing it feels to have him so close to you!

Reaching up you tangle your fingers through his hair gently so he doesn’t wake up, his soft curls glide between your fingers easily and lifting your head you kiss the top of his head before letting yourself drift back to sleep.

When you open your eyes the next time the situation is the opposite, you are the one cuddled up to Harry’s side who is scrolling through his phone with one hand, keeping the other one on your arm.

“Mornin’, sleepy head,” he chuckles softly when he sees you awake.

“Mmm, what time is it?” you ask letting your head rest on his chest a little longer.

“Quarter to nine. You can sleep a little more if you want, it’s not that late.”

“No, I promised mum I’d help her wrap gifts,” you sigh rolling over to your stomach as you push yourself up to your elbows to look at him. “Love the double chin you got going there,” you tease him sleepily and he just smirks.

“Yea? Quite cute, right? Worked a lot on it,” he jokes running his finger over it before letting out a chuckle. “Ready for our battle today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You are going down this year, Styles,” you tell him pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Harry only pushes himself further on the bed enough to rest his head against the headboard.

“Oh really? I wouldn’t be that sure about tha’,” he warns you, but you are feeling pretty confident about your performance this year. There’s no way he can top it.

“We’ll see. Alright, I need a coffee. Want something for breakfast?” you ask him crawling out of the bed.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

Your mum is already in the kitchen, sipping on her morning coffee while reading the paper. She doesn’t find it even a bit weird that Harry spent the night at yours, it’s been quite the usual for you. Harry helps you make eggs and bacon and the three of you eat together, having a lovely time and you genuinely feel like it’s just like in the good old times when you were still living home and Harry wasn’t Harry Styles, but the boy from across the street.

He goes home after breakfast to help his own mum with the cooking for tonight’s dinner and you don’t do much for the rest of the day, just spend time with your mum, watch movies and relax. It’s nice to unwind after such a busy year behind you.

Not long before five you go to take a shower and get ready to head over to the Styles’ and you pack everything you’ll need for the evening: gifts, ugly sweater, accessories. Harry is going down this year for sure.

It’s a little past six when you and your mum walk across the street, Anne’s Christmas lights are putting the little town house into the spirit for sure. You don’t even ring the bell, just walk straight in, like you always do. The Christmas tree stands tall in their living room and the table is already nicely set. Gemma and Michal are snuggled up on the couch while Harry is helping Anne in the kitchen with the finishing touches.

“I’m rooting for you this year,” Gemma winks at you when you set down your bag in the corner that has everything you’ll need for your performance.

“He’s gonna lose this round,” you smirk proudly, very sure in yourself.

Harry greets you with a bright smile and a tight hug when he walks into the living room, as if you didn’t just see each other a few hours earlier.

When the food is ready you all sit down to eat, and though you’re trying your best to focus on the conversation, you’re getting excited about tonight’s karaoke battle.

“Anxious much?” Harry asks you quietly.

“Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t answer, just places a hand to your thigh stopping it from shaking, making you realize you’ve been probably bouncing it all along. He smirks at you as you just roll your eyes at him.

“’S okay, you can handle one more year of losing,” he teases you and you give him an arched eyebrow.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Harry,” you warn him, but he just squeezes your thigh again before bringing his hands back up to the table, leaving you a little breathless with his touch.

You all help clean up the table after dinner and when it’s done, you gather in the living room to open gifts.

When Harry’s career launched, the first few years you felt anxious about gifting him, because you felt like you couldn’t give him enough. He had all the money and bought everything he needed for himself, there wasn’t much you could give him. But when one time, you admitted to him this struggle of yours he assured you that it doesn’t matter what you give him, it’ll always be precious to him.

“You thought about me, you took the time to buy something for me, and that’s more than enough, Y/N,” he told you and though it took you time, but you got used to it. Especially when you saw the same excitement in his eyes every time you gifted something to him, you slowly but surely realized he wasn’t expecting a Gucci suit, but a thoughtful gesture.

Gathering in the living room you open the presents one by one and just as always, everyone was quite creative with the gifts. You can’t help but still feel a little anxious when Harry grabs his gift from you. Giving you an excited look he unties the little bow on the top and tears the wrapping paper off.

“Y/N!” he breathes out, eyes softening as he pulls the knitted cardigan out of the box.

“I always saw you wearing all sorts of cardigans and so I finally had a reason to learn how to knit, so I thought I would make one for you,” you ramble as he holds up the baby blue cardigan that has little daisies all over the front. It took you an entire week to just make the daisies, you worked on the whole cardigan for more than two months, usually in the middle of the night, staying up until unholy hours to finish in time.

But Harry’s smile is worth it all, he is beaming, clearly so in love with what you made him, so you breathe out relieved. He then puts it aside and wraps his arms around you pulling you into the tightest hug.

“Thank you, I love it so much,” he mumbles and kisses your temple and you breathe in his sweet scent, burying yourself in his embrace, hugging his waist.

When you part, Harry reaches for a box from under the tree and hands it to you, a nervous smile tugging on his lips. You can tell he wrapped the gift himself, the silver wrapping paper is a little uneven, but the huge rainbow colored bow on the top is the perfect touch that makes it like a piece of him.

You carefully tear the paper off, peeking inside you just see a plain box that doesn’t give much away. Glancing up at Harry you see how he is anxiously biting his bottom lip, even though you’d be happy with a gift as small as a candle. It’s the thought that counts.

“I-I wasn’t sure if this was the one you mentioned to me, so I hope it’s gonna be alright,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on your hands as they open the box, while you try to think back what you have told him about that caught his attention, but you just can’t recall what you wanted to get so badly you told Harry about it.

As you open the box you don’t process what it is immediately, the plastic wrapper making it hard to figure it out, but when you carefully pull out the object, you gasp in surprise.

“Harry!” you breathe out as you pull off the plastic of the old, vintage polaroid camera. It’s not one of these new types you can buy in stores easily, this is a classic, must have quite a history behind it.

Now you vaguely remember talking about longing for an oldschool, vintage camera, but it was months ago and you’ve forgotten about the whole thing since these devices cost a fortune because there aren’t many left from them. But now there’s one in your hands, because Harry not only listened to you, but he remembered and went out of his way to find you one in amazing condition.

“This must have cost a fortune!” you huff, your heart pounding in your chest, though you already know it doesn’t matter to him.

“This face is worth every penny,” he smiles at you softly before you throw yourself at him for another round of hugging. This man surely knows how to have you wrapped around his fingers.

The two of you sit on the floor as you figure out how to make the camera work, Harry bought everything needed, so you have a few packs of films as well. When it’s all done you bring it up to your face and aim it at Harry. It takes him a moment to realize that you’re about to snap your first photo and he tries to snatch the camera away, but it’s too late, the flash goes off and the device pushes out the undeveloped picture.

“You wasted your first snap on me?” he protests rubbing his eyes after the flash blinded him for a little.

“It’s not a waste,” you tell him as you patiently wait for the picture to finally appear.

Slowly, the colors start to show and in a couple of minutes Harry’s face appears, his hand reaching in the direction of the camera, looking out of focus, only his face appearing clearly. He looks so delicate, his eyes dazzling as a soft smile plays on his lips. This moment now will live forever not just in your mind, but on this photo.

 Harry goes out with his karaoke performance this year for sure and you’d be actually anxious about him winning if only you didn’t have the absolutely best performance right in your pocket.

His sweater this year features some really ugly looking penguins and a horroristic reindeer on the back, it’s really ugly and you can’t even imagine who thought it would be fine to make it and then sell it. His choice of music is also excellent, he has a great eye for songs you’d never imagine him perform and then shock everyone with it. This year, he chose Rude Boy by none other than Rihanna, and it’s fantastic, no one can make it through the song without crying. Harry makes sure to put on his best show, even dancing and twerking unapologetically, trying everything to win the battle and you are amazed by his effort. Above all the fun and jokes, he nails the song, that’s undeniable. It always baffles you how he can just slay any and all genres, even the ones that stand a million miles away from his style.

When the song is over, you all cheer for him, because he truly deserves it. He grins down at you in victory, but you just give him a challenging smirk.

“You can just give up now, if you want,” he teases you as you stand up from the couch and the two of you trade places.

“Oh, I think you should be the one to worry about losing,” you warn him grabbing your bag. Stepping to Gemma you whisper into her ear, instructing her to put on your song when you call out from the bathroom, since you are planning on do a grandiose entrance. When she hears what song you’ll be singing she gasps.

“Oh my fucking God, no way!” he looks at your with wide eyes.

“What? What is it?” Harry asks, dying to know what you just told his sister, but you shake your head at him.

“Patience,” you tell him before locking yourself up in the bathroom.

This year, you didn’t find the sweater, the sweater found you. On one of your thrift tours, you were digging up a huge pile of clothes when you came right across it and you knew what you needed to do.

Putting on the sweater you fix up your hair quickly before putting on your party glasses, the one that lights up if you switch it on. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror and smirk at your reflection knowing well you’ll have everyone dead when you walk out.

“Gemma! You can start it!” you call out with your hand on the doorknob, waiting to hear the music. Gemma quickly starts in and you haven’t even stepped out, you can hear a round of gasps.

Best Song Ever blasts through the speakers and you walk out trying your best to imitate a younger version of Harry, wearing the absolute ugliest Christmas sweater ever, that has the faces of One Direction all over it, filling up every inch of the fabric, and all of them have poorly photoshopped Santa hats on, it’s just literal trash and ridiculously perfect for the battle.

You grab the mic and start singing as everyone screams in the room. You jump, sing and even do the dance moves the boys do in the original music video, and when you look at Harry you see him staring at you in disbelief and total defeat. Everyone knows you won, nothing can top this performance ever and you could burst from the sweet feeling of victory.

By the end of the song everyone is up on their feet dancing and singing with you, a mini party forming in the middle of the living room and you all scream the last lines as the song comes to its end.

“I think we don’t even need to vote this time,” you say when the music stops, everyone screaming in agreement while Harry stares down at you, trying to hide his growing smirk.

“Where did you even find this?” he asks chuckling as he takes a better look at the sweater.

“At a thrift store, it called out my name, knew it’d be perfect.”

“It really is ugly, if I’m being honest,” he sighs, his eyes meeting yours again. “And the song… I accept defeat, you earned this victory, Y/N,” he tells you bowing and admitting your victory.

 Later that night everyone is so keen on watching Holiday, you agree to stay even though you feel your eyelids heavily weighing down, threatening to close with each passing moment. You let your head rest on Harry’s shoulder and he presses his cheek against the crown of your head.

It’s not a surprise you fall asleep halfway into the movie, but what you weren’t expecting is to wake up and find yourself not on the couch anymore, but in Harry’s bed. It’s dark, only the moon is shining through his windows and as you turn to the right you see that he is sleeping peacefully next to you on his back, one arm spread next to him, hand hanging from the edge, the other one resting on his stomach, rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Squinting your eyes you look at the digital clock on his dresser, it reads 3:23 am so you’ve been asleep for quite a few hours now. You don’t even remember him bringing you up here, but you’re definitely not mad that he didn’t bring you home, just up to his room.

Rolling to your side you give yourself a moment to adorn his beauty without fearing he would catch your wandering eyes. Everything seems so perfect about him, the line of his nose, his cupid’s bow that delicately rolls into her lips. The crease between his eyebrows, his soft skin on his cheeks, down his neck that runs into his broad shoulders and inked, strong arms. You truly think there’s no man that could compare to him and you are lucky enough to live your life so close to him, be able to touch him, hear his voice whenever you miss him, see his smile and share a connection with him.

It’s so silly, but you think of him as your personal ray of sunshine in your life. Just the smallest things about him can brighten your worst day, he’ll always have a special place in your heart, no matter where life takes the two of you.

Watching him sleeping you allow yourself to break free from your doubts and fears and scooting closer you shyly curl up to his side, your head resting on his shoulder, but you can’t even make yourself comfortable before you feel him moving under you.

Sucking on your breath you think he’ll push you away, not wanting you so close, but instead, he pulls his arm from under you, curling around your frame as he pulls you tight to him, almost making you lie on top of him. Your whole body is pressed against him and you mingle a leg between his long ones under the soft sheets. You let out a long huff at the warm touch of his body against your skin, completely lost in him.

“You alright?” he mumbles in his sleep laced voice, his eyes remain closed.

“Yeah. Is this okay?” you nervously ask as you lay your hand flat on his stomach. He brings his hand that was hanging from the bed on his other side and covers yours, as he squeezes you tight to his side.

“’M all yours,” he breathes out, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You’re sure he didn’t mean it like that, but it warmed your heart to hear it from him and you let your mind play with the thought that there was more behind his words than a friendly manner.

Nuzzling your head into his chest you close your eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat you let yourself fall back asleep.

 Your morning is filled with coffee, pancakes, laughter and great company. Harry doesn’t let you leave without having breakfast with them, so you sit with the Styles family and laugh about the craziest stories from your teenage years.

“Remember when we tried to run away?” Harry grins at you, his red mug that had white polka dots all over it in his hands as he eyes you.

“Oh, how could I forget that?” you huff and Gemma turns to you with surprise in her eyes.

“Wait, I didn’t know about that!”

“Because we didn’t get too far,” Harry laughs. “We were, what, like fifteen?”

“Yeah, it was a few weeks after my fifteenth birthday,” you nod smiling.

“I had a fight with mum about God knows what, then stormed over to Y/N’s and talked her into running away. So we packed our backpacks and left.”

“Where did you go?” Michal asks with an amused grin as he listens to the story.

“We didn’t want to go into town, running into anyone we know, so we thought we would just go straight out to the meadow that’s there,” Harry says gesturing towards the window. The edge of the town is not so war, and a huge meadow lies there, a little stream running across it. “We walked for quite long, but then it started to get dark and we had nowhere to go, so we just ended up coming back home. No one even noticed we were gone, they thought we just went out to bike or something,” he finishes laughing.

“You knew about this?” Gemma asks Anne.

“Yeah, he came clear the next day, thinking he would piss me off with it, but I didn’t care, he came back for dinner, so it was alright,” Anne explains laughing.

It’s been so long since it happened, but I still remember it vividly, only that it was a more dramatic memory back then, now I can only laugh at it.

“We should go for a walk today,” Harry prompts to you.

“Wanna run away again?” you tease him.

“Always,” he chuckles.

You help cleaning up and agree with Harry to meet outside in an hour to take a walk to the meadow. Going home you take a shower and wash the dishes your mum left in the sink when she left for her morning shift. You put on a pair of boyfriend jeans, a warm sweater and your jacket with your trusty boots and you walk out the house right when Harry steps out as well. He grins in your way as the two of you meet in the middle of the street. He holds his arm out for you.

“M’ lady?” he smirks as you link your arm with his and the two of you head out for your little walk. It’s a gloomy day, might rain later as well, but it’s dry so far, so you’re just hoping to get home before it starts raining. Your runaway attempt wasn’t the only time the two of you came out here, it was kind of your place when you felt like having a break from everyone else. You biked out here, brought your favorite snacks and just ran around, enjoying the stillness.

However it also holds a bitter memory as well.

A little further down among the trees happened Harry’s first kiss and you witnessed it, feeling your heart break to a million pieces when you saw him lock lips with someone who wasn’t you.

Debby Hamilton was a friend of yours in sixth grade, you’d say, your only friend beside Harry and the three of you often hung out together around that time. Debby was a delight, you always desired to be more like her, boys liked her and she knew it damn well, but it didn’t make her cocky and egoistic. You always thought Harry had a crush on her, why would have he? They kind of looked cute together.

It was a Friday afternoon and Harry asked if you wanted to come out and listen to his new cassette he got for his old Walkman he refused to get rid of as technology was evolving. You figured he’d want Debby there as well so you invited her along, but didn’t tell Harry. He never made a move on Debby and you thought he was just looking for the right time.

That afternoon, you were supposed to meet them out there at five, but you didn’t leave until half past five and it takes about twenty minutes to get out there. Though you gave them the alone time technically, it still startled you when you found them under one of the oak trees, Debby leaning her back against the tree as Harry stood in front of her. She was smiling up at him sweetly, saying something to him and you were just about to call out for them and apologize for being late when Harry ducked his head and kissed Debby right in front of your eyes.

That was your first and probably worst heartbreak and you were only twelve. You felt betrayed, hopeless and naïve to think Harry would ever have a thing for you when there were girls like Debby. You left without letting them know you were there. When Harry asked you later why you didn’t come you told him you felt sick to your stomach, which wasn’t a total lie, you had quite the nausea after seeing Harry with Debby, but he didn’t have to know all the details.

He later told you about kissing Debby and you pretended like you didn’t know about it. However they never dated and not long after their kiss Debby drifted away from the two of you. Not that you minded, you had a bitter feeling every time you had to look at her after that, jealousy raging in your chest knowing that she got Harry’s first kiss.

He didn’t bring it up after and you weren’t keen on talking about it, but you still know which tree they were standing under and now as you near the area you see that it still stands tall near the tiny stream.

Peeking up at Harry you see that his eyes are focused on the same tree, but then he catches you looking.

“Memories?” you innocently ask, feeling your chest tightening. You don’t even know why you asked. It’s been over a decade since that kiss, you are both adults, but you still can’t help the sadness that washes over you at just the thought, why would you want to get him talk about it now?

“’S just… that’s the tree I kissed Debby when I was twelve,” he mumbles with a shrug. Biting into your bottom lip you look at the old oak tree nodding your head and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.

“I know.”

“What? How would you? I never told you,” Harry asks stopping, a puzzled look pulling on his face.

“Well I… It doesn’t matter,” you sigh, regretting ever opening your mouth.

“It does. Tell me!” he pleads standing in front of you.

“I know it, because… I was here.”

“You what?”

“I came, I was just very late. And when I arrived you two were standing there and I saw you kiss. I thought I shouldn’t interrupt whatever was happening so I went home and let you two be,” you explain, changing it up a little bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why is it important that I saw it? It doesn’t change anything, right?” you ask with a smile that you intended to look innocent, but deep down it’s filled with pain.

Harry opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but then remains silent and you are done talking about it, so you just quietly keep walking, Harry catching up with you a few moments later.

It’s awfully quiet after your revelation, it seems like Harry is deep in his thoughts and though you’re dying to know what’s occupying his bright thoughts, you’re kind of afraid you’d hear something you didn’t want to.

The two of you soon head back home and slowly, but you forget about the whole Debby thing. Harry starts talking again, but he looks a little keyed up still when you reach your street.

“Wanna come over later?” you ask standing on the pavement in front of your house, it’s just an innocent question. Harry nods his head.

“Sure. Is your mum working?” he asks glancing at the house, though he knows she is, the car is not on the driveway.

“Yeah. She’ll be home around six.”

He nods again and you want to ask if he is alright, but you decide not to. You share a quick hug before he heads over to his home and you do the same. The house waits for you in silence and when the door clicks behind you, it weighs down on you heavier than you were expecting. You hang your jacket, kick your boots off and throw yourself to the couch, covering your eyes with your arm as you huff out in frustration. You feel silly for getting upset about such a small thing even after so much time, but you just can’t help it.

You barely realize the sound of the front door opening, taking your arm off your eyes you see Harry walk in, eyebrows furrowed, a worried look on his handsome face.

“Harry—“ “I was waiting for you that day,” he simply says as you sit up with wide eyes, confused about what he is really talking about.

“What?”

“That day, we agreed to meet out there to listen to my new Stevie Wonder cassette, but you didn’t show up, Debby did even though I didn’t invite her out there.”

“Well, I did, thought you wanted her there too,” you explain, startled by the situation.

“I would have invited her if I wanted her to be there, but I wanted to be with you. Only you.”

“I-I’m sorry?” you breathe out, not seeing where he is going with it.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he huffs and he is right. You don’t. “I wanted to meet you, but you never came, or at least I thought. Then Debby showed up, I was frustrated that you weren’t there and she was being all nice, telling me how cute I looked when I was worried and it all just happened so fast and… I didn’t even want to kiss her.” He looks properly upset telling you the story and he takes a deep breath before his eyes meet yours with a hard stare. “I wanted to be with you,” he repeats.

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

He shakes his hair, not even letting you finish, because he knows what you wanted to say and that you still don’t understand the meaning behind his words.

“Y/N, I wanted to kiss you,” he then finally says and you suck on your breath as he continues. “Well, not right then and there, but I’ve been meaning to kiss you, I just didn’t know when. I thought that if we have a moment that afternoon I’d do it, but you never came and I was mad and disappointed. I hated myself for kissing Debby, because I didn’t really want to, it just… happened. I wanted to tell you, and I intended to do it when I told you we kissed, but you acted so happy, I figured you didn’t feel the same way about me as I did for you. So I didn’t tell you the rest, but…” He sighs in defeat, looking for words, but he ran out.

“Why are you telling this to me now?” you ask a little out of breath, your head feeling heavy at the new information you just heard.

“Why didn’t you tell me you saw us and why did you go home without a word?” he asks ignoring your question.

“I… don’t—“

“Don’t try to lie.”

Gulping hard you lick your dried lips as you stare back at him.

“Because I was… jealous.” Your voice comes out only as a whisper. Harry’s lips part as he takes two steps closer to you.

“You had feelings for me?” he asks and you just nod your head, not trusting yourself with your voice. “Do you still have feelings for me?”

“I do,” you whisper your answer and Harry lets out a sharp breath as he leaps across the room in your way. You jump to your feet, thinking that he’ll lash out on your for keeping it a secret and you open your mouth to explain yourself, but you never get to speak up because as Harry reaches you, one hand snaps to the back of your neck, the other one to your waist, yanking you against him as his lips crash to yours.

You gasp in surprise, but it doesn’t take long to kiss him back, your numb mind blindly reacting to his sudden action. Your hands snake up to the back of his neck as you pull him closer, returning his hungry kisses. His soft lips feel so smooth and warm against yours and when his tongue runs along your bottom lip you whimper letting your tongues meet in the middle.

He is intoxicating and it doesn’t help that your adrenaline level is up in the sky, you’ve fantasized about it way too many times, and now that it’s happening your body is burning in flames. He kisses you all over and over again, his body pressing against yours hard and when he even leans in making you lean back, you lose balance and the two of you fall to the couch, both of you gasping as you are forced to part your lips.

“Fuck,” you chuckle as Harry is basically lying on you, holding himself up on his arms, but you feel him everywhere.

“’M sorry, I got a little carried away, but I’ve been dying to do this since forever,” he admits chuckling as he lifts his head and looks down at you with those bright green eyes of his.

“Really?” you breathe out, only slowly processing what’s really just happened.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you hiding behind your mum.”

“Idiot, you were just a kid, you weren’t in love,” you chuckle, running up your hands to the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the soft curls. He smirks and nuzzles his nose against yours.

“Oh, I was, I just didn’t know it yet.” Leaning down he pecks your lips softly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. Though I was growing impatient these last few years.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“You can’t imagine,” he huffs shaking his head. I almost kissed you the other day in the kitchen, but Gemma completely ruined the moment.”

“I’m sorry I ran away, I was just—“ “No need to apologize. I guess it all played out well after all, right?” he smirks and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I guess,” you breathe out and the smile slowly fades from your lips. “And now what?” you ask quietly, staring up at him.

“Now… We’ll try to make things work. Test the waters. I’m very serious about this, Y/N,” he tells you. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life so I’m not gonna let go of you now.”

“You have no idea how happy this is making me,” you choke out feeling the tears forming in your eyes.

“Oh Love, please don’t cry,” he begs and leaning down he kisses your tears away. “I’m right here, with you. Sorry it took me so long you get here, but I’m here now.”

“I know,” you huff blinking away the tears as you pull him down and press your lips to his. “I love you, Harry,” you whisper against his perfect lips. You feel him exhale sharply as he keeps kissing you before he lifts his head so your eyes meet again.

“I’ve always loved you.”

 Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

[hongism]

the little things - c.san

↣ pairing: san x reader; poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.3k ↣ summary: one of your favorite things to do is look at the stars with san ↣ warnings: none !

“You’re out rather early.”

You don’t turn towards the source of the voice; just hearing him speak is enough of a clue for you to know exactly who it is. Although, even if he hadn’t spoken, you’re sure you would have known from the flutter of wings that resounded before his arrival.

“The stars are prettiest right before dawn breaks,” you sigh, hugging your arms a bit tighter around your knees. Your new companion moves forward and comes to a stop beside you. He doesn’t sit down quite yet; for a while, he merely stands at your side and stares up at the same sky hanging above your heads. The time is roughly four o’clock in the morning — a late night for you and an early morning for San — but your words hold true. The glimmering stars are tucked behind fluffy and luscious clouds that seem to herald coming rain, and they shine against a midnight blue background that seems infinitely deep.

San sinks down to sit beside you at last, tossing his legs over the lip of the stone wall you’re perched on, and he sways his legs in rhythm with an unknown melody. You squeeze your knees as you press your cheek to one of them, enough to have a clear view of San’s pretty side profile against a landscape of green pine trees and shining stars.

“I thought you were out here to look at the stars,” San whispers. He glances at you out the corner of his eye. There’s no malice in his speech, just a hint of teasing, and you can’t keep your lips from quirking into a smile.

“I’m looking at you instead.”

“I should be the one looking at you, little star.” San turns his chin to face you, and his dimples flash as he grins back through the hazy moonlit night. “Our precious star,” he murmurs before reaching a hand out to trace over your forehead, slipping down to your temple then to your cheek and dragging the pads of his fingers over your skin in an unknown pattern.

“Why are you up so early?”

“Waiting for Hongjoong,” San says through a sigh. His hand retracts as quickly as it made contact, and you can’t pretend to be oblivious as to why. Things are always… harsh for San when Hongjoong is gone. It’s much worse when it’s a job like Hongjoong’s current one where the witch has to be gone for weeks at a time. Then San becomes quite volatile and hard to deal with — it only makes sense when a familiar is separate from his master for so long. Seonghwa tries to do damage control every time, tries to use techniques that normally help his own familiar Yeosang calm down, but they never work for San. Hongjoong is the only person and thing that can quell the anxieties and worries and stress that flow through San’s veins in times like these. And seeing as they are a bonded pair, it makes the connection of sharing emotional states weaker. They can’t share emotions this far apart, and that weighs heavily on San’s shoulders after being so used to sharing his heart in such a way for so long. Even if Hongjoong has a tendency to cut San off from feeling the brunt of his negative emotions, there’s still a lingering knowledge that the other is right there, just within grasp.

Not now, however.

San has gone three long weeks without even a breath of a whisper from Hongjoong.

And tonight (this morning? Today? Whatever time it may be) the witch is supposed to return. San’s nerves must be getting to him if he’s out this early because usually he would curl up in Hongjoong’s bed and await the witch there, presenting himself like a neatly wrapped present for the other to unravel with warm kisses and soft touches.

San clenches his fingers blindly around the lip of the wall.

“Tell me a story?” You inquire out of the blue. Your eyes shift to look up at the sky again. San huffs out a weak laugh.

“What kind?”

“Hm, how you and Hongjoong met?”

A risky choice, maybe, but you know how near and dear that tale is to San’s heart, and how much comfort it brings him in simply thinking of it. So it is also a very wise choice on your behalf. San’s lips twitch into the shadow of a smile.

“You’ve heard it so many times already…”

“I’ll give you something in return,” you coo, reaching out to pinch the skin around San’s elbow. He yelps like a kicked dog and offers up a deep pout that has you ready to tease him further.

“Seven kisses.”

“Seven?” You echo. Confusion slips into your tone. You can’t recall any significance to the number seven, nor can you remember whether it’s supposed to have special meaning.

“One for each time I’ve told you this story,” San murmurs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. You scowl at the faint sensation as a laugh nearly escapes you, but you manage to bite it back enough to smile again.

“I always forgot how good a crow’s memory is.”

“Ravens remember well too, little star.”

You poke your tongue out between your lips in his direction, and San merely laughs at your expression before shifting closer to you. He loops a hand around one of yours, pulling it away from the leg you have propped up on the rock wall, then he loops his fingers through yours.

“Several hundred winters ago, this land we live in now held very different values and laws. The people were cruel and brash, only using their fists and crude weapons to handle gathering food and protecting their women and children. No one imagined there was any other way of doing things — the people knew nothing of what gentle prowess magic could offer.” San glances over at you, drawing a laugh from your lips when he makes eye contact with you. You shake your head ever so slightly.

“I didn’t mean for you to give me the version that’s in books and legends…”

San dares to giggle at that, and a moment later, he’s shifting his position so that he can rest his head against your thigh and look up at the stars like that. You have to push your other leg down to accommodate the shift, and once San is comfortably staring up at the sky with you, he begins speaking again.

“I was alone. It wasn’t something new; I was used to it at that point. Ravens don’t have the longest lifespan, and I was still a young familiar at the time. I had no owner or master. My mother’s master left our nest after she passed, leaving me with two sisters who were sick and close to death. They were too ill to shift to their human forms, so I couldn’t bring them to an apothecary or village. Ravens are seen as bad omens after all; had I brought them to a town, they would have been killed on the spot. I spent some time going between our nest and the nearest village, stealing food and medicine where I could because I couldn’t afford it. I worked some too, little odd jobs here and there, but it was a lot of delivery work. Made it easy to steal thankfully. Then… well, one day, I got too bold and tried pickpocketing a high-ranking guardsman. He was some lieutenant or something like that, I don’t remember. Too many years have passed since then. But I got caught trying to lift some coin off him in a bar, and he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out to the streets. He was planning on killing me right then and there with no trial, but some short little witch came stalking up without a care in the world and knocked the guard on his ass. He was going on and on about how rude it is to grab random people off the street like that.”

“Of course he would,” you murmur, a bit of fondness slipping into your tone. “Don’t let him catch you calling him short though.”

“Eh, he’ll survive. In any case, when the guard tried explaining that I was trying to pickpocket him, this witch extended a hand to me and asked if I needed help. I naturally said no because I didn’t think I could trust him, then took off running. I went back to my nest in the hopes of finding my sisters and telling them to get out of the area, yet when I got there, they were already gone. It had been nearly two years since my mother passed, so they were well enough to do things on their own at that point, but they’d never up and left like that without warning. I couldn’t do anything but stay and wait for their return. We’d gathered some food and supplies, so I was able to live off of it for several months before needing to depart for more again. The entire time, not once did my sisters return. They just… disappeared into thin air. I waited every day, wondered when they would come back, and some nights I would stay awake all night flying around the area in search of them.”

“That part always breaks my heart,” you whisper. Stretching a hand down, you drag your fingers along the curve of San’s cheekbones then his jaws, torn away from the stars as you look at the familiar.

“Why? Had it not happened, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I know but…”

“But Hongjoong found me,” San continues through a smile. You huff but let him finish the story, pointedly ignoring the curling grin he sends your way. “After a few months, I started noticing magical residue near my nest. And sure enough, that little witch from before was setting up camp nearby. I did nothing at first, watched him from afar for a while, then I got brave enough to try to lift a few things from his camp. That turned out to be quite the mistake because he caught me within three seconds of setting foot into that camp. And yet… instead of threatening to kill me or harming me, the little witch simply asked if I was alone. ”Are you alone? Do you have anyone with you? A master? I feel your magical energy yet it doesn’t seem normal. You must be a familiar. Where is your master?“ When I said I had no master and was on my own, the little witch was… hm, I would say he was both confused and concerned. Said it was no good for a familiar to go without a master. Without one, I would die within a few years. He suggested that I hurry along with finding one, and I explained I had absolutely no one else in my life.”

“And after that?”

San hums to himself a bit, bringing his hands up above his head as he stares at the night sky. A delicate little smile graces his pretty lips and squeezes his dimples out, but he doesn’t speak any other words for quite some time. The next voice you hear doesn’t even belong to him.

“After that, I invited San to spend some time in my care and work an honest job for me before going on his way to finding a master.”

Hongjoong.

You twist your neck towards the source of the voice, finding the witch standing a little ways away from the wall you and San are currently seated on, and he grins through the moonlit night at you. San jolts upwards at the sound of his master. The smile that splits his lips is so broad and heartwarming that it feels too intimate to look at, even for you who shares in their love for one another. It’s different for them, and you know that, even if it’s just a different strain of the same love, it’s different nonetheless. San hops off the wall in one swift move, closing the distance between his and Hongjoong’s bodies within seconds.

“As it turns out, we were…we did quite well together. And thus, here we are,” Hongjoong says as he lets San press his nose into the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. Had to make a few extra stops along the way to gather some supplies. How was he?” Hongjoong directs the words to you, watching with careful yet loving eyes as you pull yourself down from the wall as well and step closer to him and San. The familiar will be like this for a while; unmoving and unresponsive as he soaks in Hongjoong’s presence again and drowns himself in the sensation of having all those feelings doubled once more. Hongjoong will try to ease the burden as much as he can for both their sake, and you’ll do what you do best: taking care of both of them when it gets to be too overwhelming. While Seonghwa and Yeosang (who don’t go a long time without each other anyway) don’t have to deal with this type of ordeal, Hongjoong and San always do. Hongjoong thinks it has something to do with how frequent his trips are, or perhaps the lingering sensation of separation anxiety that San suffers from given his past. Either way, it makes their reunions that much more emotionally taxing and intense. Even you, who has not a drop of magical ability in your body, can feel the sheer power radiating off them both right in this moment.

“You came home at the right time. He was getting antsy,” you murmur back, reaching up to comb your fingers through the long hair at the base of San’s scalp.

“Next time I’ll leave you all with a bit more of a safety net.”

“Or you could come back sooner.”

Hongjoong nearly rolls his eyes, and you catch the way he stops himself just beforehand. The annoyance in his features is nothing serious, only something because he’s heard such words a hundred times over.

“No doubt you haven’t slept yet?” He inquires, trying his best to make his way to the door of the coven’s home. San proves to be quite the obstruction, as it seems, and Hongjoong has to hoist the slightly larger man up enough to loop his legs around the smaller’s waist. Hongjoong grunts from the added weight but manages to carry San the rest of the way with no other complaints. You trail along beside them, taking care of opening the door and grabbing Hongjoong’s satchel once inside.

“Welcome home, my sweet starlight. I see our star and bird found you before I could.” Seonghwa is the first to greet the three of you upon stepping inside. You only notice Yeosang’s sleek black cat form slinking around the hearth witch’s ankles when you’re helping Hongjoong out of his shoes.

“Mm, they were waiting outside,” Hongjoong mumbles into the chaste kiss Seonghwa delivers to his lips. Seonghwa also places a sweet kiss on the back of San’s head before Hongjoong steps around the taller man, continuing to carry San as he goes.

“Mingi fell asleep in your bed last night, so don’t be surprised if you find him there,” Seonghwa calls out over his shoulder. You stretch up to your tiptoes in front of him, half-expecting the kiss that he presses to your lips a few seconds later, but the sudden appearance of Yeosang’s human form popping up on your left is much less expected. You nearly jump out of your skin, and probably would have if not for Seonghwa placing a steadying hand on your hip.

“You haven’t slept either,” Yeosang comments, nose pushing hard against your cheek. You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“No need to lecture. I’m going up with them, don’t worry.”

“I’ll come by after Jongho heads out for morning work.” Yeosang smiles a little before turning on his heel and heading back into the kitchen, no doubt where Jongho waits. Seonghwa huffs out a laugh but sends you on your way without any more conversation. You catch him slipping back into the kitchen as well just as you start climbing the stairs behind Hongjoong.

“Did San fall asleep already?” You ask after the man. You can barely see the familiar’s face from how hard he has it pressed into Hongjoong’s neck, but his eyes seem to have fallen shut at some point. He’s either basking in Hongjoong’s presence as much as he can or he’s entered a pleasant state of unconsciousness with Hongjoong’s warmth around him.

“Almost. He’s calming down some though. I’ll put him in bed with Mingi then take a bath. Care to join?”

“Such a temptress,” you snort to his back.

“I’m only joking, my dear. Keep San and Mingi company while I’m washing up for me instead? We can bathe together another day.”

“Of course darling,” you murmur, drawing a hand across his shoulders once the two of you reach his door. “Be quick though. Mingi will want some time to cuddle before he joins Jongho for yard work.”

As Seonghwa warned, Mingi is already curled up into a tight ball in the center of Hongjoong’s bed when you enter the room. It’s not hard to move his lanky limbs to the side to make room for San, and when Hongjoong eases the familiar down to the mattress, Mingi immediately takes to curling his body around the smaller man like it’s an act of pure instinct. San nuzzles into the touch, releasing a content little hum. You feel a hand brush the small of your back and jerk to look Hongjoong in the eye. Turns out, it was only a way to distract you because he captures your lips in a quick kiss that tastes a bit of honey and cinnamon. You have no time to savor the taste, however; Hongjoong pulls away just as quick and mumbles something about being quick to clean up. You bring a hand up to touch the spot where his lips just were. The smile that overtakes your face is one you can’t hold back, and now it’s your turn to be content and happy as you pull the sheets back to join Mingi and San under the covers. A large hand clamps down hard on your waist, tugging you flush against San’s chest.

“Where’s my kiss?” Mingi’s voice rises through the silence, thick and groggy from sleep. You reach around San to smack him as gently as possible on the arm.

“Go back to bed.”

“Joong home yet?”

“Mhm, he’ll be in bed in just a bit.”

“Good,” Mingi sighs. He settles back into the mattress, maintaining his hold on you around San’s body, and you twist just enough to lean over the sleeping familiar.

“Kiss,” you murmur, and Mingi rushes to meet you halfway with a cheeky grin. “Okay, now sleep. You don’t have long before you have to be up.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep wrapped up in that embrace, and even when Hongjoong does finally come to bed, he doesn’t stir you from sleep except for the barest sensation of lips against your forehead. You might hear him mutter some loving words to all three of you, perhaps lingering a little while longer on San because he knows the familiar needs that reassurance and comfort right now more than ever, but once he settles down and tucks your head against his chest, a wildly comfortable and deep sleep overcomes you.

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight.