#i am... gonna go to bed now. its midterms season and it is very late and i am very tired.

[citrinesparkles]

I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have any tips for anyone starting their own x reader(s) blog/doing requests? If not, I hope you have a nice day either way. :)

hey lovely!! this is such an interesting question omg. i don't mind at all!!

i do have some thoughts based on my own personal experience (i, in true citrine fashion, went full babble mode on this so that'll be under the cut!) but i think the tl;dr of it is have fun and be willing to experiment. (also if any of you lovely folks reading along at home want to drop your two cents in the replies or otherwise add to the conversation please feel free! i can only offer my perspective and i love hearing others)

if you have any follow up questions or want more specific advice, feel free to shoot me a dm! i don't bite, i promise.

okay. hi.

first thing's first: starting an x readers blog!

right off the bat, my absolute most important advice is this: be gentle with yourself. you're trying something new. even if you've been writing your whole life and been on tumblr since it was founded, this is a new way to combine those things. new adventures have bumps and blocks and you'll have trial and error before you really find your way (and likely after you find your way, too!) and that is fine. take your time, try to enjoy the process, and be kind to yourself.

for me, a lot of finding my way- and i mean A Lot- was just looking at other imagines blogs and asking myself what i liked about them. for example, for me, i get inspired by angelz-dust's incredible dialogue and use of details in her writing, beautiful desktop theme, a super user friendly masterlist, and clear and concise rules page. i also love unmotivatedwrit3r's intro post with both masterlist and rules, grounded stories, and that their blog is super easy to navigate. (i could go on and on, but my point is, look at your favorite writers. why does their writing appeal to you? why does their blog appeal to you? how can you incorporate parts of how they run their blog into how you run yours (obviously without stealing other people's work, haha.))

shaping your blog takes time, but can be a really fun process if you let it!

some of the things i find most useful for my blog are a good desktop theme, a useful pinned post, a masterlist, a mobile masterlist, and a tagging system i'm very comfortable with.

(idk how tumblr savvy you are, anon, so if you would like advice on any of those things specifically please let me know!)

technical tidbits

something i've found super helpful as both a writer and a reader of imagines is when a fic has an intro. as an example, i'll use my fic cat. the section at the top tells the reader what they're getting into; in my case, i like to list any qualities i've written the reader with (in this case, the reader is not referred to by gender!) so the person reading knows if it's something they can relate to (or, if not, if it's something they're interested in anyway). i also include what character i'm writing about, how long the piece is, any fun facts or relevant information i think the audience should know (like thanking my darling angel for being my beta reader/enabler/cheerleader), and also any content warnings i think apply. in this case, i also linked the next chapter of the fic.

if the post is long, throw a read more/cut on there! (i do this for posts that are longer than 1000 words, but you can use any measurement.) it makes navigating your blog (and any tags you post in!) muchhhhh easier.

back up your work. no, seriously, save often, and save your fics in a secondary location. i use google docs, but you could use word, a private discord server, your notes app- just make sure to save it! and just a heads' up, tumblr drafts can be a bit of a gamble. i've had posts post themselves prematurely, posts disappear entirely, and formatting glitch. (also? be prepared to reformat your posts.)

(i also save drafts i hate or can't get to work. sometimes i find a way to recycle them later on!)

don't be afraid to use tags, but try to stick to relevant ones. tagging your fics with unrelated characters or fandoms is unlikely to get your work any extra attention- and if it does, it's not likely to be good. i use several different imagines tags (because people call imagines lots of different things- [character] imagine, [character] x reader, [character] x you, and [character] x y/n are my go to tags.).

i also find it really helpful to use consistent content warning tags (such as "fire cw" or "blood cw").

self reblogs are a great thing. i have a queue i maintain almost religiously, so i queue mine, but you don't have to! but don't be afraid to reblog your work. people follow you to read what you post, and they may not see it the first time around! (i usually post at night, reblog the following morning, and once again the following night.)

accepting requests.

disclaimer: requests aren't my main source of inspiration. i write from movies, music, things i see irl, my literal dreams- i say this because i've seen a lot of writers get discouraged by a lack of requests (especially early on) or frustrated because they can't complete requests as quickly as they'd like. i think it can be really refreshing to take a break from them occasionally and write from another source of inspiration, if you can.

that being said! to answer your actual question, the biggest suggestion i have is to set basic rules. if you are asking for requests, what are you willing to write? what's a hard no?

it's okay if those things take time to figure out- or if they change with time! but having some basics down can be a huge help for requesters.

also! you're more likely to get requests if you allow anonymous asks. (this was, last i checked, not allowed by default. i would recommend switching them on in your tumblr settings if you would like to take requests.)

i really hope some of this helps- and again, if you have any questions or would like any other input, please feel free to send another ask or dm me <3

[lookingforodysseus]

The Usual

A/N: SO, I usually don’t post stuff like this, but the wonderful @startrekkingaroundasgard​ had a 2K writing challenge about tropes and no one had taken the coffee shop AU yet, which I thought was a shame and a disaster, so here we go. Hope you enjoy :D

Tony had always thought he would despise working in the service industry. Given the amount everyone around him complained about it, he had expected he would be trying to commit harakiri with a milk frother within the week, since whatever Hades had in store for him would be less bad than dealing with one more person who pronounced cappuccino wrong.

And yet, now that he's here, he's enjoying himself. The coffee shop, called Impresso Espresso (insert forced laughter here), is across from a college campus, so most of his customers are caffeine-addicted students, hands shaking and eyes wide open from either too much Redbull or too much cocaine (it's a toss up at this age, really) and their professors, with under-eye bags so large they can put all the assignments they still have to mark in them, leaving their hands free for a carton cup with seven shots of espresso. Tony enjoys winking at all of them and trying to make them laugh, every smile a reward better than the free coffee that comes with the job.

During the classic afternoon lull, when the students are in bed and the professors in class, Tony puts the mechanics degree that put him deep in debt but didn't provide him with a job due to his well-meaning but obnoxious demeanour to good use by upgrading the ancient coffee machines, that were apparently purchased in the late seventies, max- or maybe modern technology just isn't as great as people often make it out to be.

Tony's manager, Matt, captain of the American football team who likes his coffee like he likes his math problems, simple, watches this thirty-something man become increasingly comfortable in a coffee shop populated mostly by those ten years younger or older than him with a mix between amazement and amusement. Besides, the coffee machines, that previously took ten minutes of gentle conversation with an increasingly impatient customer to create something as simple as a cup of tea, can now whip up a doppio in a record-holding 17.8 seconds, according to Tony. To Matt, it just feels like approximately 20 seconds, but, apparently, the exact time is of great importance to Tony, who, one night during midterms season when the coffee shop is open 24/7 to accommodate all the students pulling all-nighters, calls Matt at 3 am to announce he has shortened this time to 17.7 seconds. Apart from that hiccup, though, Tony is a good employee and Matt is satisfied.

On a dreary Thursday in February, one of the other baristas asks Matt: "Have you seen the professor around, lately? I feel like it's been awhile since we've had a queue of 20+ people- do you think he's ill?"

Matt smiles. "Don't worry about him, he's at a conference. He told me about it last time he was here, right before he told me off about not stirring his coffee correctly, or putting too much syrup in it. I'm not sure what it was that time, but it was clear he wasn't happy."

The barista laughs. "Is he ever?"

Tony, who is leaning on the counter, watching the students run by, text books over their head, more concerned with protecting their haircut than the $200 the book cost them, hears the comment. "Who are you talking about?" he asks, intrigued.

"Just this crazy customer who comes here a lot," Matt says. "He teaches something very scientific and complicated, and his order is absolutely ridiculous. You should be glad you're first month here has coincided with a four-week conference in Silicon Valley he had to go to. He's a nightmare."

Tony laughs. "Oh come one, he can't be that bad."

Matt rolls his eyes at the other barista, pulling off her apron now that her shift has ended. She waves at the two men behind the bar before exiting the coffee shop, the door being held open for her by a customer just about the enter the shop.

The customer enters the cafe, his eyes gliding over the neon Impresso Espresso sign behind the counter like he is disappointed still no one has realised what a horrible idea it was to put it there. Behind Tony, Matt sighs. "That'll teach me to speak of the devil. That's him, the professor. You take him, you've never had to suffer through his demands."

Tony steps up to the register just as the man reaches the counter. He is wearing thick, black glasses that almost completely hide his grey eyes. The top button of his checkered shirt is undone, but it doesn't look on purpose, more like he just forgot there was another button before he finished dressing himself. His large, black cardigan is wrapped around his body like a blanket. He is younger than Tony expected, for a professor being invited to month-long conferences. He also doesn't look like someone who has an order complicated enough to make his colleagues this bitter (pun intended).

When the man opens his mouth to place his order, Tony expects the other employees to have pulled a prank on him, expects the man to just order a black coffee, and maybe, maybe, make a joke about the colour of his soul. Instead, he hits Tony with this beauty of a coffee order: "I would like a latte, but instead of only milk, I would like half milk half hot water. The milk should be equal parts almond and coconut, with an extra dash of soy. Stir that exactly two and a half times clockwise. Then, add in a full glass of skimmed milk, that has been frothed for exactly 12.5 seconds, shake it up with ice, pour half of the drink out, and heat the other half up again, which needs to be stirred twelve times anti-clockwise at a temperature of 63 Celsius or 145.4 Fahrenheit. Take it off the heat at 98.7 Celsius or 209.67 Fahrenheit. I would like three and a quarter pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, seven packets of sugar, two pumps of caramel syrup, make sure to add that in after the sugar, otherwise you ruin the taste, and .4 pump of hazelnut. Then, I would like some cocoa powder, pour the coffee in with ice and shake it up again. I would also like whipped cream on top, but then please shave it off again, so there's only a little bit of whipped cream left. Pay with card, please."

Tony's mouth falls open. "You're kidding!" he exclaims. Behind him, he hears Matt snicker. The man begins to explain the importance of each individual step to the flavour of the beverage, but Tony interrupts him: "That's my order!"

A smile forms on the man's face, grey eyes sparkling. "Finally, someone with good taste around here," he says, giving Matt, whose jaw has slammed through the floor of the coffee shop and is currently making its way to the centre of the earth, a side eye. "You'll know the crucial timing of the stirring, then."

Tony nods. "Of course, of course," he says, with a stern face, fully aware of how important these things are. One of the reasons he had decided to start working in a coffee shop was that he would finally be able to make this order perfectly for himself. He can't believe another person with a brain as small as a human's has been smart enough to realise this order is the only way coffee is anything near drinkable. "Name?"

"Bruce," the man answers, and Tony hits the buttons on the register to allow the man to pay for his drink, even though he believes that thinking like that should be rewarded with a free coffee, before writing Bruce on the cup in his squiggly handwriting.

A solid twenty minutes and 27 grumbling people in line behind Bruce later, Tony presents the coffee with a flourish Shakespearean actors would be jealous of, putting a lid on the take-away cup before sliding it across the counter towards Bruce. "Oh, I don't need a lid," Bruce says, and pulls on the lid. However, in his enthusiasm, Tony has pressed down a bit harder than was fully necessary, and, no matter how much Bruce pulls, the lid is not giving way.

Tony snickers. "Well, someone's got muscles that would give the Hulk a run for his money."

Bruce laughs, too, and pushes the cup back towards Tony. "Can you do it?" Tony easily takes of the lid and slides the now lidless cup to Bruce. With a smile and a nod of his head, Bruce exits the coffee shop.

Over the next week, Bruce comes back twice a day, once in the early morning, and once for a pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon. Tony learns his schedule quickly enough, and ensures he arrives a bit too early and leaves a bit too late for his shifts, so he can be there to make Bruce's coffee. He doesn't ask for the man's name anymore, instead scribbling Hulk, No Lid on his cup, something that amuses Bruce, which is only indicated by the sparkle in his eyes when he reads it. Most of Bruce's emotions seems to be conveyed through his eyes, and Tony starts making subtle alterations to his order depending on the look in them- an extra shot of coffee if they're especially tired, some more syrup when he's looking down, and some extra milk when Bruce's eyes are dull, in replacement for Tony's wish to put his hand on his stubbled cheek and his lips against his forehead to soften the pain he sees hiding behind the grey clouds in Bruce's irises. He knows Bruce notices, when his eyes regain some of the sparkle Tony had seen that first time they had met after he takes his first sip, thanking Tony with a simple nod of the head and a half-smile, which Tony cherishes more than the few coins Bruce drops in the tip jar whenever he visits the shop.

They talk every time, sharing jabs and ideas, words and looks, until Matt has had enough of it. One particularly rainy afternoon in March, he punches Tony's arm in a way that's soft for a quarterback such as Matt, but hard for a skinny 5'9 guy like Tony, and he has to take a side step to prevent himself from falling against one of the coffee machines.

"When are you finally gonna do something about that, man?" Matt asks. Tony raises an eyebrow, innocence painted on his face. It's as much of a forgery as most of Da Vinci's paintings, though, and Matt knows it. "You kids have been flirting under my nose for over a month now," he continues, ignoring the fact that both of the men he's talking about are at least ten years older than he is. "You need to make a move, dude. Now!"

Tony gestures at the window, where Bruce can be seen crossing the street to the college campus, coffee in his hand. "He's gone, Matt," he says. "What do you want me to do? Go after him?"

Matt nods enthusiastically. "That's exactly what you should do! Run after him, ask him out! Don't be such a wimp!" He pulls Tony's apron over his head and pushes him towards the door.

Tony struggles against Matt's indisputably superior physical strength. "I never took you to be such a romantic," he says. "Might harm that cool image you've got going on."

Matt snickers. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Tony," he says, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tony through it with the other. "Now, go!"

With not much other choice, Tony runs across the road, waving at the sleek black car that almost hit him, driven by an extremely annoyed-looking red haired woman who seems to have half a mind to simply step on the gas and run him over. He makes it across the street in one piece though, and yells: "Bruce!"

The other man is so shocked by someone yelling his name that he promptly drops his coffee cup. He spins around, hands risen next to his head as if showing he has no weapons. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and his navy blazer darkens where the rain hits him, since he isn't wearing a coat. Neither is Tony himself, he realizes, now that the rain is making his white T-shirt quickly turn see-through. "It's just me," Tony says.

"Oh, yes. Did I forget something?" Bruce pets the pockets of his blazer.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I eh… I…" He has always been a man of words, but now, faced with a nervous, drenched professor whose coffee is spilling all over the pavement between their feet, he doesn't know what to say. "Can I buy you a new coffee?" he asks, hating the clenched way his voice comes out of his mouth. "Maybe we could, you know, talk. Somewhere else than in there." He gestures at Impresso Espresso, where Matt is grinning broadly behind the windows. "Somewhere he can't see us."

Bruce smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, and Tony has to resist the urge to run back and high-five Matt. "That would be nice. There's a decent place just up the road." He gestures in a vague direction, and Tony isn't sure which road he's indicating, but he doesn't care. He would follow this man to a coffee shop three cities over, if he really had to.

When they walk into the shop, water forms small pools by their feet, and a single, bored barista is leaning over the counter. The neon sign behind her reads Cool Beans Coffee Bar. Bruce sighs. "Do all coffee shops have those?"

Tony laughs. "Federal law requires it. That's top secret, though, don't tell anyone."

Bruce mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, and, grinning, the two men step up to the counter. Tony eyes the other man. "The usual?"

Bruce nods. "The usual."

[nightingiall]

little do you know, chapter 15; almost home

Fact: “We are more creative at night and least creative in the afternoon.”

previous chapters + drabbles // read on 1dff

(trigger warning: mentions of an eating disorder. please read at your own discretion.) 

Mona was surrounded by warmth.

It seeped into her skin and filled her from the inside out. She’d never felt so comfortable in her life.

The nightmares had stopped and now she just couldn’t remember her dreams. But judging from the way she was waking up, it must have been something pleasant, because there was an unmovable smile on her face.

And then she felt it, the hands, pressed gently on her back, warm, strong arms embracing her. Her own hands were on him, one on the back of his shoulder and the other pressed to his heart, her head resting comfortably on his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thump, thump, thump against her palm and she found that her breaths matched it, even and calm, just how everyone liked her to be for these past couple of days. She sighed contentedly, shifting her head to look up at him, and for a moment, her smile grew even larger. It had been a while since she caught herself in this position with him, and all she could think about was how beautiful he was, even while asleep.

But then, reality kicked in, and the smile dropped from her face.

Damnit, she thought to herself.

As if reading her thoughts, Niall shifted, a tiny grunt sounding from his throat as he twisted his body into a more comfortable position. When he looked down at her with his sleepy eyes, Mona’s breath caught in her chest, and she wondered how anyone could keep their heartbeat steady when Niall looked at them like that. “G’mornin, my darlin’,” he breathed out, voice groggy and sleepy and adorable. Mona wanted to punch herself in the throat.

At Niall’s shifting limbs, another voice groaned, and Harry sat up from where he was sleeping on Niall’s other side, rubbing the heaviness from his eyes. He smiled at them before his eyes caught on the laptop sitting idly on the coffee table, screen dark from the battery long giving up on them, and his entire expression changed. “Shit,” he muttered, slumping back into the couch to card his fingers through his hair.

Liam had begun to jostle from where he was snoozing on the loveseat and as time stretched on, Mona began to panic. “I can’t believe we fell asleep,” she huffed, shifting out of Niall’s warm embrace and wrapping her arms around herself. “We were only supposed to watch one episode!”

Harry huffed, reaching over to connect Liam’s laptop to its charger. “Well,” he sighed as it booted back up, “looks like we watched an entire season.”

Mona groaned. They were over at Niall and Liam’s and they were supposed to be studying. How reviewing notes for upcoming midterms turned into binge watching the entire season of The Crown on Netflix, she had no idea. She wasn’t sure why they had a sudden obsession with the British monarchy last night, but she was surely regretting it now, because she had an exam in a few hours and she hadn’t studied nearly as much as she wanted to for it. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, her heart beating a little too fast for comfort. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we did this. I really need to pass this stupid test.”

Niall’s fingers closed around her wrist, and while his touch stopped feeling like it burned, it still had her flinching. “Relax,” he murmured as he tugged her closer to him. She’d been letting him do that for the past few days because she didn’t want to draw attention to her feelings on the...incident. And as much as she loved the way it felt when he had his arms wrapped around her, it still hurt way too much. “You still have time.”

She glanced at the time on Liam’s laptop and realized he was right. It was 6 am. But it wasn’t as if any of them got enough sleep.

Harry yawned. “I don’t, unfortunately.” He started to gather his books and notes, stretching as he stood up before heading to the door. “I’ll see you lot later, I guess. My exam’s in two hours.”

Liam scoffed, but pouted in sympathy nonetheless. “That’s what happens when you sign up for an 8 am.”

Harry scowled. It was a sore spot for him that they all liked to tease him about. He’d fallen asleep when registrations opened up and got stuck with an early morning class, something he endlessly complained about. “Have a nice day, everyone except Liam,” he muttered on his way out, and they all laughed as he shut the door behind him.

Mona felt the smile slip off her face as the jitters came back. Niall’s hand was still on her wrist, fingers stroking her skin lightly as an attempt to keep her calm, but all she felt was on edge. “I should, um,” she pulled her hand away from him, his warmth fizzling slowly from her skin. “I should go too.” She started to gather her books, but Niall leaned forward into her space, placing a hand on her thigh.

“Stay for breakfast?” he asked, voice lifted sweetly.

On any other day, Mona would’ve probably stayed. But right now, being around him had her feeling too much, and all she really needed was to get out of her own head. “Maybe next time,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. “I really need to go over these notes. And maybe take a nap.”

At that, Niall laughed, her thigh feeling impossibly cold when he pulled his hand away. His eyes sparkled, even with that sleepy glaze, and her heart was so gone for it.

She sighed. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself.

~

It was a bit past noon when Mona finally got back to her apartment.

She wasn’t sure how she did on that exam, but she was feeling okay about it. If she was being honest, all she really wanted to do was crawl into her bed and take a nap, and as she opened the front door to the apartment, she was determined to do just that.

But, alas, her life sucked lately, and so did her luck.

“Did she eat this morning? I’ve been trying to pay attention to her but she’s gotten so good at escaping me.” It was Harlow’s voice. She was talking to someone in the kitchen. Mona didn’t know why she did it, but she didn’t open the door all the way because it was visible from that side of the apartment. Instead, she kept it cracked slightly so she’d be able to hear what else Harlow was saying.

She huffed when she caught herself. She hated that she found herself in this position so often lately.

“Erm, I’m not too sure? She left pretty quickly this morning.” Mona rolled her eyes at the responding voice. It was Niall. She seemed to find the two of them whispering about her in odd places nowadays and it was getting on her last nerve. She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need them to look out for her all the time. “Actually now that I think about it, she picked around at her food last night too.”

Mona felt a lot of things over these past few days, but she hadn’t quite felt anger in the way she did at that moment. She could feel the shakes coming on again, but this time it was because there was a fire flaring up within her that she needed to breathe through and not wave of panic.

Inside, Harlow sighed. “I’m really worried about her.” She sounded very earnest, but that didn’t do anything to quell the anger growing inside Mona. “She hasn’t been taking care of herself and I’m worried—” she huffed, “I just don’t want to see her fall into the same bad habits she had when her dad passed away.” Harlow’s voice cracked then, and when Niall went ‘Oh, Harley,’ Mona imagined him to be pulling her into one of his warm hugs. “It was so hard to watch her like that and I don’t want her to go through that again.”

“Harls, we’ve got her, yeah?” Niall’s voice was soft and reassuring but it only made Mona more upset. “We’re not gonna let her get stuck inside her head.”

“I know, I know. Just—” there was a rattling and then the sound of a drawer being slammed shut. “I don’t even want her to have to go through it again. The panic attacks, the eating disorder—it all took such a toll on her and I don’t want to see her go down that hole again. I just want her to talk about her feelings sometimes so I can help her—”

But that was it. Mona had no interest in listening to what else Harlow had to say. Anger rolled through her like the waves before a storm and she couldn’t see straight with the way her blood boiled within her.

How could she tell him that? Mona’s deepest and most hidden truth. That was not Harlow’s story to tell and Mona couldn’t even believe her ears as the words came out of her mouth. Mona wanted to throw something or punch something or scream something, but she did none of that. Instead, she slammed the front door behind her as she walked into the apartment and heading straight to her room, not sparing Niall and Harlow a second glance as they gaped at her from the kitchen.

For good measure, she slammed the door to her bedroom too, the wood rattling on its hinges for a moment. Mona never really got angry. Frustrated and irritated, sure, but never this boiling fury that felt like it could rip through her at any second, never this molten lava in her veins that had her seeing red everywhere she looked.

She didn’t know how long she’d been pacing the length of her room to try and get rid of this frustrated energy coursing within her, but when there came a knock at her door, she was nowhere near calm.

“Mo?” Niall cracked the door open without waiting for a response from her. His blue eyes were bright and vibrant and she quickly looked away. She couldn’t look at him, which was actually a feeling she’d been having a lot lately. She didn’t know why, but sometimes she just—she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t look at him. Sometimes, it just hurt too much. “You alright, love?”

The term of endearment only caused the anger to flare up even higher inside her. She couldn’t see straight and she couldn’t breathe normally and she hated that her life had come to this, to a constant state of her having to try and count to ten and hope her heart rate went back to normal. “Get out, Niall.” Her voice was dangerously low and calmer than she expected it to be. It was the kind of tone that would make anyone step out of the way.

Apparently, not Niall, though. “Mo,” he sighed, the door creaking as he opened it wider to let himself inside. “Don’t do this, please. Please? Just talk to me, darlin’.” He must have been talking to his mom a lot lately, because his accent had gotten a lot thicker than she remembered.

She shook her head at herself. She couldn’t let herself be distracted right now. “Niall,” she gritted out, turning her back to him. “Get. Out.”

“Hey, I promise you if you just talk it out you’ll feel so much better.” Mona could tell he was slowly moving closer to her from the way his voice started to sound clearer in the haze of her mind. He was approaching her like she was a ticking time bomb, and in a way, she felt like she was. “Please? I don’t know how much you heard but please don’t be mad. Harlow just wants the best—”

“Oh my god why doesn’t anyone just listen to me.” There it was, the explosion. She never screamed at anyone, but at the strain she felt in her throat, she knew her voice was way too loud even for her. “I’m not a child, I don’t need you guys to feel like you have to baby me all the time! If you really wanted to help me feel better then you’d just get out!”

At the sound of something shattering, she snapped out of it. Her vision cleared up in time for her to watch Niall grimace before his eyes widened slowly in disbelief, and when she looked over to see the shards of what was once a snow globe littering the floor near the wall, she couldn’t believe herself either.

She gasped at herself, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. She hadn’t even realized she’d even picked up the snow globe from her dresser, much less thrown it at the wall. And while she wasn’t aiming at Niall and it went nowhere near him, she still couldn’t even fathom being angry enough to throw things while he was right there.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out, her voice horse and her head swimming. If she looked in the mirror right now, she literally wouldn’t recognize herself. She needed to get a grip.

“Mona, what the hell!” Harlow rounded the corner into her room and looked at the broken glass on the floor with horrified eyes. “What’s happening here?!”

Mona had backed up so much that her knees were hitting her bed and she was collapsing onto it. She heard Niall tell Harlow that everything was okay before he made his way towards her, this time, with less caution in his step. He kneeled down on the floor in front of her, hands tentatively reaching forward until they were smoothing over hers which were still covering her mouth. When he smiled up at her, Mona couldn’t help the way her lips wobbled.

“Hey, incredible Hulk,” he teased, reaching up to playfully shove at her shoulder. “You’re alright. Don’t freak out on me now.”

But it was too late. She was already shaking, a traitorous tear rolling down her cheek and dropping down onto the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Niall sighed, and Mona wanted to full-on cry at the sound of it. She felt like everyone was so exasperated with her lately and it made her feel absolutely useless. He got up to sit beside her on the bed, and Mona covered her face with her hands when he tossed an arm over her shoulders, leaning his cheek on her head. “What can I do to make you not sad?” he asked quietly, though it sounded more like he was asking himself.

Mona huffed, falling back onto the bed and curling into herself, and Niall obviously did the same. There was a pillow between them now. Mona had so many on her bed because she needed them to make up for the emptiness of the other side. She still hadn’t gotten used to not being able to curl into his warmth like in the cabin days. She knew she should’ve put some distance between them then because it hurt so much now.

Niall curled his pinky finger into hers. “Hey,” he murmured, and when Mona opened her eyes, he was smiling at her. “Hi.”

Mona couldn’t help the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards. She hated how cute he was. “Hi.”

Niall tightened his finger around hers. “Are you okay?”

Mona’s breath hitched. It was instinctive to pull away, but she fought against it. She sighed. “No.”

She could tell Niall was nervous from the way he shifted slightly, his finger twitching as he fought against the urge to put his fingernails between his teeth. His voice was quieter this time, softer. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Her immediate answer was no. But she knew Niall didn’t want that, and she’d disappointed him and everyone else enough for the past few weeks. She curled her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling at the bits of dry skin on the surface. “I didn’t have an—” She sighed. She couldn’t even bring herself to say it. Niall unlinked their pinkies so he could tangle all their fingers together, thumb stroking the back of her hand soothingly. “It’s not true.”

Silence stretched on between them. When it was clear Mona wasn’t going to say anything else, Niall chipped in to help her along. “What’s not true, darlin’?”

Mona gulped. She found herself shuffling closer to him. The warmth of his body was her safe space, and all she craved at the moment was to be as close as possible to him. It was such a stupid move, but she shoved away the pillow in between them, inching towards him, and she didn’t really have to shift all that much until he met her the rest of the way and wrapped his arms around her body. She immediately tucked her head into his chest. He was wearing a really soft sweater today, and it collected all of his warmth so well that when she pressed her cheek to it, it felt as if the warmth was bursting right into her skin.

Niall hugged her tightly. His hands stroked her wild hair down, fingers gentle and delicate over her skin. His heartbeat was a slow and steady thrum against Mona’s temples, and, like always, she found herself trying to match it. Niall was so warm, his skin so soft, his touch so comforting. Mona wondered if she’d ever feel this way with anyone else, like just their presence could make everything feel right, like being here, in their arms, would always feel like home.

“Mo,” Niall whispered, his lips moving over her forehead. “Please tell me what I can do to help you fix this. Please? I hate seeing you like this.”

Mona clenched her eyes shut. She hated feeling like she wanted to cry so much lately. Her emotions always felt like they were in overdrive nowadays, and all she really wanted to do was turn it all off.

She didn’t know how to respond to him. She nearly wanted to ask: How can I make you love me? How can I get over you? Why does everything have to be so complicated?

Instead, she said nothing, just curled her fingers into his soft sweater and tried not to let her feelings overwhelm her to the brink of tears. She needed to learn to get a hold of herself. Her whole life felt as if it were spiraling out of control and there was nothing she could do to get a grip on it to slow it down.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, and Mona hated the pleading she heard in his voice. “Please talk to me? Please?”

There was a lump in Mona’s throat. She felt like all the words were stuck there and she was suddenly choking on them, trying to breathe through them. She stuttered through a breath in the way people did when they were about to cry, and Niall immediately acted on it, his arms tightening significantly around her so that every inch of her was pressed to every inch of him. Mona held on to him for dear life. Her world was spiraling, she was spiraling.

“Okay, shhh, I’m here.” Niall shifted so he could move her up to the head of the bed. He maneuvered them so that he could get the sheet undone, and in the time it took for him to pull her back into her arms, she was already beginning to hyperventilate. “I’ve got you, darlin, I’m here.”

And, god, the words were right there. Right there, stuck in her throat, slowly seeping onto her tongue and all she had to do was spit it out. Niall, I’m in love with you. So, so much that I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. That was all she had to say.

And, yet, it was all she couldn’t say.

Mona didn’t realize she was sobbing really loudly and forcefully until Niall was all up in her space, begging, “Mo, please, please, please, don’t cry, please.” He was sitting up and she was curled up in his lap and he was holding her close to his chest. He was leaned over her like a shield, arms holding on tight, and Mona brought her hands over her face, ashamed.

Her life was a mess.

She had flashes of a few nights ago, of these arms wrapped around her now being draped around someone else, of Niall’s eyes, glazed over in fondness, watching a girl that wasn’t her. She knew she should have pushed him away, it was the right choice. But how could she push away someone who was her safety net? Someone she loved more than anything else. Someone who was her home.

Niall let her cry and cry until she didn’t have anything left.

Until she felt numb enough to fall asleep.

~

It was absolutely frigid outside.

The wind felt like shards cutting into her face, which was the only bit of her skin that was exposed. Still, Mona didn’t really mind. She just wanted to feel nothing for a while, and the cold weather helped to distract her.

She wasn’t really sure how she ended up on the fire escape. To be honest, she didn’t even know whose fire escape she was on.

When she woke up, Niall wasn’t next to her. The other side of her bed was painfully cold and so was the surface of her skin. When she had managed to pull herself together and actually sit up, her head spun so bad that she had to lay back down for a few minutes. In hindsight, maybe that was what set her mood off-course.

Mona had gotten out of bed only to find Harlow packing things into a suitcase outside. She wasn’t sure why the sight of that had her spiraling again, but it only took Harlow saying, “Mona, you’re gonna have to start packing your things sooner or later because we’re leaving for San Francisco next week.”

She wasn’t sure what she did or said after that, but now she was on the fire escape freezing her ass off and feeling numb by it all. While she didn’t really want to go back inside to face reality, she knew that if she stayed out here for any longer, she’d get hypothermia or something. With a sigh, she shifted over to climb back into the apartment. When she closed the window and turned around, she realized she was up in Zayn’s and Harry’s place.

They were all sitting on the couch in the living room when she rounded the corner. Zayn and Harry were watching her carefully while Niall and Liam had more somber looks on their faces. Harlow was leaning on Zayn, eyes trained on her fingers. Mona suddenly had a flash of the moment she stormed out of the apartment. She had told Harlow that she couldn’t make her go to San Francisco, and that she’d have a better chance getting her to go if she were dead.

Remembering the words had her grimacing now. She’d never said such a thing before, and she could only imagine how it must have shaken Harlow.

“Mona,” Zayn was saying now, patting the empty space next to him on the couch. “We need to have a talk.”

Mona just stood there. She wasn’t sure how she must have looked to them, but on the inside, she felt nothing at all. “I think I just want to go to bed, thanks.” Her voice sounded empty, hollow. It was a bit alarming that she’d let herself spiral to this point.

At that, Harry sighed. “You said that last time, Namona.” That had her flinching. Harry never used her full name, and that was how she knew this was serious. “C’mon. Sit down.”

An upset Harry was never good, so she didn’t protest at that. She shuffled her feet towards them, taking the empty seat beside Liam instead. He was the only one that seemed a bit warm towards her at the moment, because as she sat down, he immediately reached over to place a comforting hand over hers. When she looked over at him, he sent her a reassuring smile.

She knew none of them meant any harm. They all just cared too much.

There was a very tense silence before Harry sat forward, hands clasped together in front of him as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “This is not healthy, Mo. We all saw what happened at the pub the other day, and we can’t have the same thing happening again just because you don’t know how to talk about your feelings.”

Mona gulped at that. She suddenly felt very nervous and kind of nauseous. She glanced over at Zayn, wondering if he told Harry about their talk on the fire escape, wondering if he even had to.

Liam was bumping his shoulder against hers just then, a comforting arm coming around her shoulders, and she easily leaned into him to rest her head on his chest. He was the only one that was able to get her to breathe that night, and his presence beside her now had her feeling a little less unnerved. “We’re here for you, Mo,” he said. “We just want you to trust us. Tell us what’s going on with you so we can help you through it.”

Mona closed her eyes at that. She didn’t want to start crying again, but deep down, she knew she would. She hated that she couldn’t seem to stop doing that lately. It really was quite awful.

“Mona,” Zayn started, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know he was frowning. “We all love you. Please. Just talk to us.”

She really should have expected this intervention from the way she’d been acting lately. She hadn’t gone to work due to Jingle banning her until she could get her health up to par, which meant she was spending an unhealthy amount of time in bed when she wasn’t going to class. It really was behavior that was cause for concern.

She gulped, the words coming out of her without her having to think about it. “I’m scared,” she breathed out, voice croaking. She wondered how hard she’d screamed at Harlow at the strain she felt in her throat. Once she’d said it out loud, she realized how true it was. She was petrified of having to face the next week, and she couldn’t seem to shake the anxiety it caused her. “I just—I don’t want to go back.”

Niall was leaning forward at the break in her voice, clearly recognizing the first telltale signs of oncoming tears. Her mind flashed to earlier in the day, when he was begging her to talk to him. She couldn’t look at him now. Her broken heart was giving a pang of pain that was resonating in all of her bones, and she was glad Liam was holding her when she took the first gasp for air from the sobs she was holding back taking her breath away.

“Oh, Mo,” Harry was sighing, his voice very sad and very concerned. He quickly moved to tuck himself into her other side, arms coming around her in a tight hug.

“God,” Mona groaned in frustration, her hands coming up to cover her face. She was so ashamed of herself right now, of her inability to pull herself together. “I really don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me go back.”

Suddenly, they were all around her, squeezing into each other on the loveseat even though they all couldn’t fit. Harlow crouched down in front of her, eyes brimming with tears when Mona just could not, for the life of her, stop crying. “Mona darling, don’t say that,” she said softly, hands clutching Mona’s. “You’re so strong. You can do this.”

Mona shook her head, noticing that her tears seeped into Liam’s shirt. “I’m not.” She didn’t know when she’d gotten so deep in this hole of self-deprecation but she couldn’t seem to dig herself out of it now.

“You are,” Harry was saying beside her. “The only thing stopping you is yourself.”

Mona curled into herself. Somehow, she managed to draw a deep breath just as a new wave of sobs tried to rip through her throat, her mind clearing up slightly. “What are you so afraid of?” Zayn asked, his hand resting on the space between her shoulders. He was perched on the arm of the loveseat behind Harry. “Why exactly don’t you wanna go back to Cali?”

Mona gulped. It was a good question. One that she wasn’t sure she had the answer to. But, she had a general idea of what bothered her so much about California. “It’s gonna remind me too much of my dad and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.”

Zayn moved from his spot to crouch in front of her like Harlow was. His eyes were impossibly honest and determined, and aside from his perceptive nature, it was her favorite thing about him. Zayn never sugarcoated anything, and it was a quality that was well-appreciated by all of them. “But, babe, don’t you want the closure? Maybe if you just go back and face your fears it won’t hurt as bad anymore?”

“Mo,” piped in Niall who was sitting beside Liam. “We’re all gonna be there with you, yeah? You’re not alone.”

Harry put out his hand. “We’re in this together.”

Harlow was the first to put her hand in, then Zayn, then Liam. When Mona looked over at Niall, he was already smiling at her, bright blue eyes glimmering as he put his hand in as well. She didn’t have to think about what she did next, because with all of her friends by her side, she knew she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was.

“Together,” she said, placing her hand on top of all of theirs, and they all cheered, leaning in for a huddle. Mona closed her eyes, taking in all the warmth radiating from all of them, and she suddenly felt calmer than she had in weeks. “I love you guys.”

That resulted in a roar of laughter and cheers from the boys. “She loves us, she loves us!” cackled Harry, and Mona rolled her eyes. She hated them sometimes as well.

But in that moment, nothing else really mattered.

Because she was going to San Francisco, yes, but she’d have her family by her side through it all.