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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

#is damn a swear word?#I tagged just in case #I have sort of triumphed over my computer #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #albedo #beidou #keqing #zhongli #albedo x reader #beidou x reader #keqing x reader #zhongli x reader #scenarios #my writing #requested

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nctsworld · 3 years

Note

🔥 yangyang + fluff + enemies to lovers + college au tyy

✩ MAKE IT WORK // yangyang x reader | neuropsych major!yangyang | enemies to lovers | fluff | 1k

SUMMARY ⇾ in which you and yangyang are partners for a study and finally get along for once. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ a little angst, small argument, swearing RATING ⇾ teen+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ the pacing is a little off but i didn’t want to get too carried away with it, i hope you like it and thank you for participating!! ^^

The door swings open from the back of the laboratory, but you keep your concentration on the scampering white rats in the multiple tanks.

The faint shuffling of sneakers and heavy breathing arrive closer as you scribble observations down into your notebook.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” your lab partner pants, rushing to drop his backpack down to the concrete floor and grabbing a lab coat.

“As always,” you grumble under your breath, eyes back on the tank.

You sense an eye roll from behind before he arrives by your side with a clipboard and pen in tow.

“Any updates?”

Although you shake your head, your partner hones in on your filled page of notes, a mix of legible words and chicken scratch.

He tightens his jaw and exhales slowly through his nose, then takes a quick, cursory glance at the tanks.

“Did you change their food today?”

“What do you think, Yangyang?” you ask, words heavy with sass, while your gaze still deliberately averts his.

The sudden dropping of the clipboard on the lab bench is enough to drag your full attention towards him.

“Sorry, that was loud. Didn’t mean to be,” he mumbles softly. Turning around to have his front face you, he leans back against the work station and runs a hand tiredly through his hair.

“Look, I know you didn’t ask to be paired up with me—”

He’s right; you definitely didn’t.

You were assigned as partners for the study, proudly handpicked by the professor, who believed you two would work well with each other, despite Yangyang’s infamous reputation for always being late to lecture and labs.

You overheard from others that he was a busy body, but so was everyone else—that didn’t give him an excuse to constantly be late.

“And I know we don’t really get along—”

That was the understatement of the century.

Every time Yangyang did manage to come by the lab, he’d always nitpick on your leads with the study. Needless to say, countless arguments ensued. It’s a surprise the study has been moving along and seeing any results at all, albeit at the speed of an iceberg.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t take this seriously. Both of our fucking degrees ride on this study and I’m trying my best here. I swear.”

When he finally lifts his drooping head to match your gaze, your heart traitorously clenches tight in your chest.

Sympathy for Liu Yangyang was the last thing you would’ve thought today would bring. But here you both are, with him staring at you, silently begging you to understand what it’s like to be in his shoes, even for a little bit.

And that’s just the thing—you don’t know what it’s like to be in his shoes because you don’t know anything about Yangyang.

Your partner severs the connection and shakes his head, removing himself from the bench.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have ranted like that,” he regrets in an undertone.

“No, it’s okay,” you whisper softly. Your mouth pinches to one side, nodding along to your next words. “I know how things can get overwhelming sometimes.”

You catch a hint of a small smile blossoming on his face and your heart’s immediately flipped on its backside, inexplicably wanting to see him shine more.

He runs a hand over his face and clutches his clipboard and pen again against his chest.

Glancing up at you with a fresh, eager aura, the sides of his mouth curving up slightly more, he asks, “Is there anything I can do to help right now?”

With that, you and Yangyang mutually try to turn over a new leaf.

By five o’clock, both of you miraculously managed to get through the afternoon without having a single argument for once... except for his taste in music, since you finally allowed him play music in the room for the first time.

Locking up the lab door with him behind you, you comment, “Dude, seriously—do you listen to anything else besides rap?”

The cute figure chuckles with his head and elbow leaned against the wall. “I’m a huge Arianator, if you can believe that.”

A snicker rises from you. “No, I can’t. You gotta prove it and play her stuff next week.”

After finishing locking up, you turn to him and your grip tightens on your backpack strap slung off one shoulder. With your relationship beginning anew, there’s an odd tension that lingers in the air.

“I’m glad we got some concrete results today,” you nod, lips pressed together in a half-smile.

“Same,” Yangyang nods with the same expression.

“Well... I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

You swivel on your heels at the same time he speaks up.

“Are you—” You barely need to turn back to look at him and witness the boyish individual rub the nape of his neck. “Are you busy tonight?”

Although it’s a Friday night, you don’t have much planned besides take-out and Netflix, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Not that I can think of...” You’re not conscious of the way you tuck some loose hairs behind the back of your ear, nor the grin on your face. “Why do you ask?”

Yangyang attempts to shrug coolly. “I feel bad for always being late and now that we’re actually talking, I wanna make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”

Chewing at your bottom lip, you reply with a simple, but meaningful: “Sure.”

The two of you walk out of the building side by side, heading out to the local diner on campus, and look forward to what the night will bring for the both of you.

In the back of his mind, Yangyang’s grateful to make up for his lateness to you.

But he’s even more grateful for a second chance after a bad first impression, because he’s the one who asked the professor to pair up with you in hopes that maybe you’d go out with him after the study was over.

nctsworld’s birthday week celebration!

#i o u #cee.q&a #nbwc2021 #yangyang fluff #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #yangyang fanfic #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv fanfic #wayv fluff #nctcreations #yangyang #liu yangyang

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marinetteplztakeabreak · 3 years

Text

okay now that we’re in the middle of a hiatus and the fandom is mostly calmed down

I’m one of the very few people who’s actually hoping for a Lila redemption arc? I don’t want her to be friends with Adrien or Marinette or anyone she’s really really hurt, but she is still like 14 and we don’t know her full story and I honestly want to see her grow and be a person and make some actual friends and get some hobbies. Again, I think she’s burned the bridge with a few characters, but that doesn’t mean she can’t ever be friends with anyone else

and anyway, my ideal takedown/ redemption arc for Lila is one where she unknowingly lies about having several disabilities that other students in the class actually do have

BUT I don’t want it in a “oh actually, Lila, you dumb fool, I have real medically diagnosed tinnitus, so I know that’s not how it works, haha everyone look at Lila the stupid liar” kind of way

I want them to be like stupid levels of understanding and try to bond with her

(detailed explanation of my Lila arc under the cut, obviously don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with the idea of Lila being redeemed)

Lila is like “oh... actually... I can’t participate in the PE final... I have scoliosis... that I just found out about right now” and Juleka is like “oh! I have scoliosis too!” and Lila is panicking because she’s about to be called a fraud, but instead Juleka just happily sits with her for the entire PE final and rambles about stuff and is super happy to have a bench buddy

Alix mentions that she has tinnitus and Lila is like “wait what? why aren’t you in front of the class?” and Alix is like “oh, for me it’s kind of a waves thing? on good days, I can hear her from anywhere in the classroom, and on bad days, nothing can really help me hear? so Ms. Bustier just gives me lecture notes that I can read and it works for me.” And Lila is completely expecting to be called a fraud but Alix is just like “it’s super cool that it does help you, though! everyone’s different! If you ever want to compare notes about what helps, you can text me!”

Lila starts to say the beginning of a well practiced and overly researched speech about how she can’t go on a field trip because she has a super rare medical condition and Max just pulls her aside and is like “hey, I know it can be scary and you feel like you have to justify yourself, but you really don’t have to give super personal information all the time. It’s totally fine if you are comfortable, but really, I know from personal experience that Ms Bustier and this class are super understanding. You can just say ‘personal reasons’ or something and we’ll all leave you alone. You’re allowed to have privacy.” and Lila is like “huh”

this is getting long but basically, eventually she talks to someone in the class with ADHD or anxiety, I’m going to say Alya for now, so she literally catches Lila lying about knowing some celebrity, and instead of being angry or judgemental she’e super discreet about it, she pulls her aside like “hey, I know it feels hard to make friends, but I promise you, people do think you’re interesting as you are, and we care more about you than the people you know.” and she doesn’t even call Lila out for lying? she’s literally just like “u dont have to know celebrities”

and then Lila actually finds out that there’s at least one actual compulsive liar in the class. And, if you didn’t know, Lila’s not an actual compulsive liar, and I’m not going to get into a rant about that now but... She lies on purpose, and tells planned lies with an agenda, whereas compulsive liars don’t usually plan to lie or have a reason for lying. So anyway, Lila gets actually caught lying, and someone, lets just say Nino for the sake of picking a character, is like “hey i know its hard but you do still have to apologize, even if you did your best, you still messed up and you’ve got to own up to it. I believe you that you’re trying to be better but you can’t just use mental illness as an excuse.” and Lila pulls out the fake tears and is like “you don’t understand-” and Nino is (not in a rude way, just trying to be kind) like “I can’t understand you exactly, no, but I literally did have a problem with compulsive lying and I have a therapist, so if you want to talk about it I probably understand more than you know” and Lila is like “oh.”

and anyway, Lila’s arc doesn’t come through someone she’s harassed trying to defend her, and it doesn’t come from her being traumatized into being nice, it just comes from her classmates treating her like a human person, and doing their best to understand her while also actually finding ways to make things accessible to her so she stops being able to get out of things. And then it turns to “hey Lila, just so you know, you don’t HAVE to give explanations for not wanting to go places, you can just SAY if you’re uncomfortable.” and she starts getting called out on it a little bit more, but in a friendly way. Her classmates are just like “Lila please just tell us what you want, I don’t need your medical history, I’m not going to do a background check, just, say you want to borrow a jacket and I’ll let you borrow it. I literally have an extra hoodie”

But simultaneously, everyone with a disability “in common” with her starts latching on to her and opening up, and they actually hold her accountable for listening to their needs. And Lila, who already has the mindset of “oh u are legally required to help Disabled Person or everyone will hate you,” which is literally the basis of half of her plans, is now surrounded by classmates who are asking for her help with reading things because they’re dyslexic, or asking her to grab a textbook from across the room, and asking her if she has any heating pads, and, well, Mylene actually bought her some heating pads when she was faking having cramps earlier, so she might as well lend those out so that she can get more credit with her classmates

And it’s not because she *cares* obviously, she’s just doing it to get them to rely on her, and to get on their good side

and then she’s invited to join the disabled students activism club, and it would look suspicious if she didn’t join, so she agrees, and then whoops, she is now working to do actual charity work-- because it’s really nice to have such solid evidence for her claims, and some charity work that she can actually point to solid evidence for if she ever gets called out-- and honestly it is pretty stupid that its so hard to get accommodations on tests for students with anxiety, because aren’t those the students who are the most afraid to talk to the teachers-- not that Lila cares. And it’s super dumb that no one even knows proper etiquette for helping people in wheelchairs,, and people keep Leaving Things in the Hallways that make it too narrow, and-- Lila doesn’t care at all though, and she definitely doesn’t care about her “friends” in the club because they’re not her friends, and she totally does not cry when she finds out that most of them are literally self-diagnosed, and then it turns out that Mylene was actually wrong, and she probably doesn’t have Lyme disease like she thought, and no one judges her or treats her any different? they’re all just like “oh thats great! glad you could keep getting new information!”

and Lila realizes that literally no one will be mad if it turns out she doesn’t have any disabilities. Except also, she’s starting to become more and more sure that she Does have several things wrong with her, because apparently it’s Not Normal to feel constantly on guard when she’s around other people, and apparently it’s Not Normal to just have days where you literally cannot drag yourself out of bed in the morning and then get hit with terror that if you tell anyone about how numb you feel they’ll immediately think you’re unworthy as a human being, and she’s like, oh, huh, i should look into that

and anyway Lila doesn’t even try to be a good person at first she just wakes up one day and is like “what the heck when did i get actual friends and passions and hobbies,, i did not sign up for this” but she does start making an effort to be worthy of them and she ends up growing a whole ton once she’s given a support system

and anyway i know lots of people are uncomfy with Lila and that’s fine, but i’m continuously a sucker for “evil devil child is actually a pretty decent human being once their basic needs are met and they feel safe” trope

#long post #lila rossi #miraculous ladybug #ml #i do not know how to tag this #trying to not tag my hate but also not attract the specific people who would hate on this #let me know if theres any tags that need to be added

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

#gta v #grand theft auto v #michael de santa #trevor philips #young trikey #franklin clinton #lamar davis #lester crest #amanda de santa #steve haines #midnight city au

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fred-george-fic · 3 years

Text

In the Middle Pt. 6

Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (Eventually)

A/N: I am so appreciative for all the positive responses and likes that I have been getting for this fic! So thank you, you all are the reason I keep writing!

Summary: It’s the Second Task plus a special moment with Cedric!

Pairing(s): Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (eventually)

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist: ~Part 1~Part 2~Part 3~Part 4~Part 5~

Warnings: None!

-------

The Second Task

On February 23rd, you are sitting with Cedric in the Courtyard, chatting with his friends from Hufflepuff about the task tomorrow. Cedric’s arm is lazily wrapped around your waist as you sit on a bench. Over the past few months, Cedric’s friends have grown quite fond of you. You can often be seen talking to them in classes or walking with them, even when Cedric isn’t around. As you’re sitting there, Hermione and Ron walk up to the group.

“Hey, Y/N?” Hermione says as they approach. “Mad-eye told us to find you because Professor McGonagall is looking for us.”

You nod your head and turn to Cedric. “I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll be the one cheering so loud that even the creatures at the bottom of the lake can hear me.” You smile at him, kissing him quickly.

“I might need more of those before the task.” He grins, kissing you one last time before you walk away.

“See you all later!” You wave as you walk with Hermione and Ron to Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Ah, Welcome students.” She says as you walk in and motions to the three seats in front of her. “Please, take a seat.”

You all sit down and notice Professor Dumbledore is also standing in the room, watching you all. “Good evening. How would you three feel about participating in the second task?” He asks, scanning all three of your faces

“How would we help?” Hermione questions.

“I am assuming both Harry and Cedric have discussed with you what they heard from the Golden Egg.” You all nod your heads as Dumbledore continues to speak. “The final line is ‘To recover what we took’, which is where you three come in.”

“You want us to be the taken items?” You ask much quicker than you expected.

“Yes. Each of you means something to the champions. We have already gotten permission from Fleur’s parents to use her sister as well.” Dumbledore continues to stare at each of you, awaiting your answer.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You look up meeting Dumbledore’s eyes, as Hermione and Ron also agree.

“You will not be returning to your common rooms today. Nor will you get a chance to speak with the champions before the second ask tomorrow. I promise you will be safe and will awake once you come out of the water.” The last thing you see before falling asleep is a wave of Dumbledore’s wand.

-------

The Morning of the Second Task

Fred and George are walking through the crowd of people, shouting to take anyone’s bets.

“Step up mates, don’t be shy!” Fred begins.

“Three lads…” George continues.

“…One lady.”

“Four go down…”

“But will four come up?”

“Don’t be so mean.” Ginny says as she walks past the boys.

“Wait, Ginny. Have you seen Y/N?” George asks.

“Not since yesterday!” Ginny shouts as she continues walking to the docks. Eventually, George and Fred set up their betting booth on the docks. Cedric walks up to them.

“Ah, Diggory. What can we do for you?” Fred looks at Cedric. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to get in the lake?”

“Have either of you seen Y/N?” He barley acknowledges the boys as he asks his question.

“Wait. You haven’t seen her either?” George looks up puzzled, he thought you had already made your way to the docks with Cedric. “Harry hadn’t seen Hermione or Ron either.”

Suddenly, Cedric’s eyes get wide as he realizes what has been taken from him. He looks at the lake and sprints towards the end of the dock where Fleur and Victor are already waiting. Cedric eyes the lake, seeming like he could jump in at any moment. Meanwhile, George and Fred have also caught onto your location. George looks over at Fred with a knowing look, Cedric better pull this task off. Harry runs up, talking to Neville and lines up with the other champions.

“Welcome to the second task. Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions. A treasure of sorts. These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie at the bottom of the Black lake…” Dumbledore continues on giving his announcer speech. Cedric continues to look at the lake with determination as his Hufflepuff friends continue cheering him on. The cannon goes off and the champions jump in the water.

-------

Your lungs immediately fill with air as you break the surface of the water. You can feel arms around you, and when you look back you see Cedric helping lead you to the bottom platform of the dock. On the platform you can see Fred and George, along with some Hufflepuff students waiting to pull you both up. George and Fred help you up onto the platform, while Cedric’s friends help him. You’re immediately wrapped in a towel and someone places a beanie on your head. When you look up, you notice Fred is wearing his, but George isn’t. “You alright, Y/N?” George asks.

“A little chilly.” You manage a smile while your teeth chatter and begin to head up to a higher platform.

“Only a little? Guess I can have my beanie back?” George laughs following behind you.

“Okay, you got me. I’m bloody freezing.” You reach the top of the ladder and hear a number of cheers around you as another person breaks the surface. You notice Hermione and Victor, followed by Ron and Fleur’s sister Gabrielle. Finally, Harry shoots out of the water and lands on the dock.

As the judges discuss, the placements of the champions you can feel someone putting another towel over your shoulders. When you look over, you notice Cedric offering you a wide smile. “Here, put this on too.” He says handing you his jersey. You slip it over your head and rewrap the towels around you, moving closer to Cedric, who wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

“Attention!” You hear Dumbledore shout. “The winner is… Mr. Diggory! Who showed innate command of the bubble-head charm.” Cheers immediately erupt throughout the various platforms. You cheer loudly, wrapping your arms around Cedric’s neck who immediately pulls you in for a kiss. All the cheering faded away for a moment, until Dumbledore continued talking.

“However, seeing as Mr. Potter would have finished first, and rescued not only Mr. Weasley but the others as well, we have agreed to award him with second place.” You could hear George and Fred let out a loud cheer behind you and the Durmstrang boys begin complaining.

“Congrats Harry!” You yell towards him. He smiles at you and gives you a thumbs up, before continuing his conversation with Ron and Hermione.

Everyone began to shuffle out of the stadium, you followed next to Cedric and the rest of his Hufflepuff friends as you moved towards the boats. “You did great out there today, Mr. Diggory.” You laugh and give him a wink.

“All because of you.” He puts his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. “The moment I realized that it was you in the lake, I knew I needed to get you out of there as quickly as possible.”

“Well, I am glad I can be of some service.” You smile at him and continue on your way back to Hogwarts.

-------

The Day Before the Final Task

On June 23rd, the day before the Final task, you were on your way to the Astronomy Tower to meet Cedric. Hannah had given you a note saying:

Y/N,

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at 9 PM. I want to see you before the final task.

-Cedric

Since the Second Task, you two have practically been inseparable. Cedric managed to walk you to almost every class, you starting having lunches together, and more often than not, you two would stay out until you absolutely had to head back to the common room. This drove Fred and George mad, you made sure to reserve breakfast times for them but they would constantly bug you about it.

“We never spend any more time together, Y/N!” Fred would say as you went off to spend more time with Cedric.

“I’ll literally be staying at the Burrow with you all summer! I will barely get to see Cedric!” You would protest.

“Let her go, Freddie. She has other priorities now.” George would say coldly, usually walking away. He seemed to be taking it a bit harder than Fred, but you knew once summer hit, you would be spending all your time with the twins. Cedric lived close enough to the Weasley’s, but they were kind enough to let you stay there the last few summers. You weren’t going to impose by leaving the Burrow to spend time with Cedric all summer.

“I’m really sorry. But I promise we’ll spend time together once the school year is over!” You even offered to take them on a trip to Hogsmede last weekend with Cedric, but they declined saying they were busy.

As you reach the bottom of the Astronomy Tower and make your way up the steps, you see Cedric leaning over one of the railings. You walk up next to him. “Enjoying the stars?” You look around and notice how bright the sky is, filled with billions of stars.

“Yeah, but I’m going to enjoy them a lot more now that you’re here.” He says looking over at you. He doesn’t give you his usual smile, just looks at you.

“Are you okay?” You grab his hand, meeting his gaze. The light from the sky hit the side of Cedric’s face, causing his eye to glimmer slightly.

“Yes. I’m a little nervous about tomorrow.” He squeezes your hand in reassurance. This time he does give you one of his signature wide smiles. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll make it through.”

“So, what made you ask me to come up here so late?” You ask, not pulling your eyes away from his.

“I wanted to give you this actually. I usually try not to pay attention to Rita’s gossip, but I saw someone reading it and noticed this.” Cedric pulls out a photo of the two of you from the second task. It shows the moment the two of you kissed once he was announced the winner.

“Did you cut this out?” You stare at the photo with a wide smile. You really never considered how lovely you two look together.

He rubs the back of his neck and lets out a small grin. “Yeah. Once I saw it, I really wanted to give it to you.”

“I absolutely love it!” You plant a kiss on his lips and go back to looking at the photo.

“I love you.” The words come out of Cedric’s mouth before he actually realized what he was saying. His eyes go wide as you slowly break away from the photo and meet his eyes.

“Did you just-?” You look at him in shock for a moment, taking in his words. His eyes soften then and he pulls you close to him.

“Yeah. I love you, Y/N. I’ve known for a while now; I just didn’t know when to say it.” He laughs lightly.

“I love you too, Cedric.” You smile and kiss him again, this time more passionately. He holds you close to him and smiles.

“I’m glad that’s all sorted.” He kisses the top of your head and keeps his arms wrapped around you, as the two of you watch the stars before headed back to your common rooms.

-------

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keijikunn · 3 years

Text

Memories ─ part ii

── A @celestialarchiveshq collab “Connected by fate”

Pairing: Semi Eita x fem!reader Tags: college!au, kinda angst i guess, fluff, SLOW BURN, maybe strangers to lovers!au Summary: On the last day of the year, you dream of your soulmate’s most impactant memory that happened within the year. Each memory will be different each year. Word count: ~5.4k

Author’s note: Second part is up guys! Hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you're thinking so far! Reblogs are appreciated <3

WARNINGS: insecurity, mention of injury (it’s a broken arm), self-esteem issues, let me know if I forgot anything

MEMORIES’ MASTERLIST

2005 (age of 11)

The gymnasium was filled with the sound of the sneakers against the hard wooden floor, constant screams of “left!”, “right!”, “block!” and occasional cheerings when someone scored a point. Your soulmate was excited for practice as usual, the love he felt towards volleyball was huge, and the bubbling sensation on his stomach gave away he was excited for something.

“Boys, gather up!” The coach called the team near the benches, everyone sitting on the floor in front of the man. “It’s time to announce which positions you’ll play for the next season, and possibly for the rest of your middle school years.”

A list of names got called, the younger ones assigned to variate between a couple of positions; the older ones were mostly spikers or middle blockers. With naive eyes, being able to score points for the team was euphoric, as if the weight of the world was on their shoulders. Your soulmate waited restlessly, a part of his mind wandering on his arduous training, trying his best to achieve his dream position in the team.

He called his name, eyes quickly to find his coach’s face. “You’ll be the on the start lineup as setter.”

Your soulmate gasped, his lips quickly turning upwards as he smiled in ecstasy. His close friends lightly punched his back and arms, congratulating his hard work. All the boy could think was his father’s words about how your efforts are paid back, just like his guitar classes. He thought about the countless practices he tried his best to improve, asking tips to his coaches and seniors, tossing a ball against his bedroom wall - only to hear Aime complain about it during dinner.

It felt good, amazing even. He understood the concept of working hard perfectly, after experiencing it twice. Something inside him made himself feel unstoppable, as long as he has his determination to do better, he could achieve every and anything he ever dreamed about. Your soulmate had never felt such proudness of himself before, and he had every reason to feel like it.

2006 (age of 12)

Semi’s relationship with his relatives was good, all his uncles and aunts were nice to him, his older cousins never really bothered him and the younger ones were funny to play tag games. However, the boy wasn’t excused of having a certain degree of dislike towards his same-age cousin Touma. Being born in the same year was great when they were little, playdates worked well and they’d always make each other’s company during boring adults reunion.

Things started to change once they got older and started elementary school. Touma was constantly praised in his school, claimed as the best student in his year, with almost perfect scores and impeccable participation in events. Semi used to be happy for his cousin, but the feeling changed once the other started to brag about himself, belittling Semi’s achievements and efforts.

After that, their relationship was never the same, and both of them knew it. The thing was that their mothers weren’t aware of the sudden change of affection between them, resulting in regular Sunday lunches over their place. It was uncomfortable the silence between them, the pair sitting on opposite ends of the large sofa, doing their best to ignore the other’s presence.

“Aunt!” Touma called Semi’s mother, a too innocent smile on his face. “Did mom tell you that I’m the best student in my school? And the teachers want to subscribe me in a Math competition?”

“That’s great to hear, Touma-kun! You’re really smart!” His mother cheered way too excited, Semi noted, and the boy tried to recall every time he had big news to tell if his mom praised him like she did with his cousin.

“Even the director talked to me about changing a few classes, saying Touma is capable of attending advanced classes.” His aunt gushed with pride. “And he’s even the best player in the soccer team!”

“Wow, Touma, you’re really amazing!” Semi was undeniably jealous at how easily his mother complimented someone who wasn’t her own son. He was furious at her, at Touma, but especially at himself for not doing better to receive the same praises.

“I’m naturally good, aunt! I don’t have to study or practice more to improve.” His cousin stated, sending Semi and side look in a provocative way, like inciting him to fight back. “And what about Eita-kun?”

“Eita always tries his best in volleyball and guitar practices,” his mom started, fidgeting with the cloth she used to dry the washed plates. “He’s a hardworking boy, right, Eita?”

“Yeah…” he muttered in response, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. Did his mother lie to him about working hard on what you love? To earn her compliments he should be a genius, be born good at that thing and that’s that?

The rage inside him was replaced by disappointment, even sadness. His parents lied to him just to make him happy because he was their son, it was their obligation to hype their children even if they weren’t that happy. Semi wondered if his mother would’ve lied to Touma if he was her son - and the answer came quite easily: she wouldn’t, because she had no reason to do so.

At that moment, everything he believed started to fall apart. His concept of being good, of worth of praise and recognition. Years of proudness were thrown away in mere seconds, a mentality Semi built to face every challenge destroyed in the worst way possible: by his own mother.

I bet mom wanted a son like Touma, she’d replace me easily.

I’m not good enough, am I?

The following days after the first rehearsal you had with the band, you and Semi met up more often to talk about your project, what you have so far and what do you wanted from him. Although Semi didn’t spare snarky comments towards you, he was cooperative and even suggested a thing or two.

“So, what’s the lyrics?” Semi asked, both of you were in a small café near the campus. His long and slim fingers tapped the wooden table, while his left - and injured - arm rested near his body.

“Well,” you started, offering a sheepelesly smile. “It’s your story, you should write it.”

“It’s your project, Y/n.” He tried to correct you, closing tightly his jaw in annoyance. Overall it was quite easy to read the singer’s body language, it being more expressive than his words.

“My project is to produce a song - which I’ll do when you come up with the lyrics.” The man didn’t seem to be convinced, but either way let out a long sigh, bothered by the situation. “Whatever you want to tell the world, any suppressed feelings, I’m all ears to your ideas.”

Semi visibly was taken aback at your choice of wording, mouth slightly slacking and his brown pupils quivered as he lowered his gaze to the table. You knew it was rather dangerous to suggest something like that, giving the fact he resisted for a while before agreeing to help you. On the other hand, though, it was your only chance to get what you really wanted: a song filled with the deepest and rawest emotions.

Much like your soulmate, the man in front of you closed himself from the others. The last 10 years, you dreamed about a very hard tempered, isolated and hurt boy and you didn’t truly understand those feelings. Semi, in your judgment (that you acknowledged could be completely wrong), gave off the impression he might understand him. Perhaps through Semi, you would be able to comfort your soulmate, because regardless of his belief or not in being destined together, you needed to do anything to sooth his doubts.

“Semi-san?” A male voice broke the silence you two fell into without noticing, lifting you head, you saw a rather tall guy standing by the side of your table. He sported a sharp and uneven haircut alongside with a tired expression, though his eyes were wide opened in surprise.

“Oh, Shirabu.” Semi breathed out the name, also surprised by the sudden encounter. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” the awkwardness between them made you fidget in your seat, averting your eyes from them to look straight into your cup of coffee. “How- how are you doing?”

“Fine, actually- and you? Heard you were accepted in med school,” the singer commented. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, uh- Y/n, this is Shirabu.” Semi introduced you two as you briefly exchanged a polite ‘hello’, a bit awkward by the situation. “We used to play in the same volleyball team during high school.”

“Oh, nice.” You reacted slightly rushed, the tension between the two previous teammates was growing as the seconds passed by. “Was Semi a good teammate? I’m playing support in his band and I can say he’s quite demanding.”

“Yes!” Shirabu exclaimed quickly, his nervousness showing off. “Semi-san was a good teammate and a respectful senpai.”

“Though you respected Wakatoshi the most, right?” Though you presumed Semi said that to joke around his underclassman, at some instance you felt bitterness hidden behind the playful comment. He laughed half-heartedly as Shirabu panicked to give him a proper answer. “I’m joking, relax.”

“I have to go, actually,” the younger man stated, offering the two of you an apologetic smile. “I have another period to attend… Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Semi-san, Y/n-san. Bye!”

“Take care!”

“Bye.”

Semi relaxed his whole body after hearing the front door close, running his right hand through the ash locks of his hair. You observed him shift on the chair, too immersed inside his own thoughts to notice your analytical gaze on him.

“Do you mind me asking why you look so shaken up?” Your voice was soft and lower, as if the choice of volume would prevent Semi from getting angry at you.

“He used to play in the same position as me.” Based on the few knowledge you had about volleyball, you assumed it was possible for two players to share the same role in the team, so you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “We both were setters, he took my place on the start lineup.”

2011 (age of 17)

The third years arrived late at practice and the coach, even though knowing they had extra classes, screamed at them to change quickly. Unphased by the outburst, Ushijima, Tendou, Semi, Reon and Yamagata did as they were told so in order to start the warm ups. Each one of them took their position on the court, ready to practice their main abilities; however, Washijo called out Semi and Shirabu to the sidelines, a serious expression on the older’s face.

“Semi, I’d like you to focus on your serves from now on.”

“What- why, coach?” Semi asked surprised, closing his hand into fists angrily.

“Shirabu will be the main setter of the team.” Washijo stated, and for a moment the world has stopped moving in Semi’s perspective. “You’ll be the pinch server.”

“It’s not fair, coach! I’m-” the words died in the boy’s throat, giving up on arguing with him. Throughout the years he’s been trained by Washijo, Semi knew his decisions were made to improve the team’s strength and chances to win. Nothing would make the coach change his mind. “I understood.”

He bowed to Washijo and Shirabu before turning back to head to the end of the court, getting closer to those who were practicing their serves. Semi took a ball from the cart, smacking it to hit the floor a couple of times before tossing it into the air to serve. On the other side of the net, the ball landed near the fifth position, but the thought of scoring a service ace didn’t soothe the burning rage inside of him.

Once again Semi was told right in front of him that he’s not good enough, he wasn’t needed on the court to articulate all the offensives against the opponent team. Of all people. He was subbed by an underclassmen. Semi Eita, a famous setter during middle school, who was accepted at Shiratorizawa through a sports scholarship.

Angry tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them slip through his eyelids. No, Semi was too proud to let anyone see how frustrated he was; he wouldn’t give Shirabu the satisfaction to see him break down, even though his junior could not think like that.

Years of hard working, training every single day to improve his tosses, every time he bent his fingers during practices. All for nothing. Semi felt stupid thinking that it would be enough, he should have learned years before with Touma. Efforts don’t take you anywhere if you’re not a genius. He should have known better.

Serve after serve landed perfectly in spots other teams’ defense would break: between the first, sixth and fifth position; so close to the sidelines some players would think it would be out, just to be surprised by the referee pointing the flag to the ground. However, it wasn’t enough, not for Semi. At that moment, no service ace would make up the thrilling sensation of setting the perfect ball that leads the team one point closer to the victory.

It was unfair how he was subbed during his third and last year in that team, after that season he would retire from the club’s activities and solely focus on university entrance exams. Washijo should know how he feels, especially because the coach himself couldn’t play because of his height. So why has he done that?

His gaze unconsciously fell over the main court, where the spikers were practicing with Shirabu. Semi desperately searched for any fault in the setter’s tosses, in his posture and even in his movements around the other players, anything to point out to the coach as an excuse for him to change his mind about the situation. What angered the boy the most was the fact Shirabu had such clean moves and a great analytical vision - he was way more competent that Semi himself in the matter of technique.

What took the biggest toll on him, though, was seeing Ushijima and Reon hitting every toss with such ease and power. Their performance was better than when Semi was the official setter, he couldn’t recall any practice or game both spikers were surpassing their usually good performance. That made everything clear to Semi: he couldn’t bring the best of his teammates as a setter, he wasn’t skilled enough to help his team on every offensive. He had to accept it.

There will always be someone better than me, Semi thought to himself, panting from tiredness. I’ll never be the first option for anything, I should have known that.

You’re pathetic, Semi Eita.

End of October, 2017 (current time, age of 23)

To say you were nervous was a understandment, you’ve never performed in a live house before - and it definitely wasn’t like school presentations, as you tried to convince yourself. The fact that those people in front of the stage weren't there to actually see you helped a bit to calm down your nerves, though not enough to prevent your hands from shaking.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually nervous, Y/n.” Semi teased you, earning a whine from you. The singer was relaxed - it would surprise you if he weren’t - with his arms crossed over his chest, carefully enough to put his right one over the other. He was looking good, you admitted to yourself, with black jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather black jacket. “You’re a music producer, you shouldn’t be afraid of the audience.”

“Firstly, I’m not a music producer,” you started angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. “And secondly, that’s why I chose to learn how to produce songs, because I won’t perform them.”

“You can either focus on a dot ahead of you, ignoring all eyes looking to the stage or,” he stepped closer to you, bending down a little so his mouth reached closer to your ear. “You can just look at me.”

You stepped back in surprise, feeling your cheeks heat with the exaggerated flow of blood through your veins. Semi laughed at your distressed expression, leaving you behind to search for his bandmates in order to prepare themselves to go on stage. You had no idea if the guy teased you on purpose or not, but it was effective: you were no longer anxious to be in front of people, but because you’d be next to Semi for at least 30 minutes.

The moment you dreaded the most arrived sooner than you thought, a staff from the live-house ushered you four to the stage. Akihiko sat behind the set of drums, positioning himself comfortably to start; Takeshi plugged the bass on the amplifier, adjusting the volume as he strummed the cords. Semi stood in the middle of the stage, pulling the microphone stand in front of him up to get it closer to his mouth. Your hands worked quickly on setting up your guitar, earning you enough time to pay attention to the audience’s noise through the closed curtains.

Before you could get lost in your own thoughts, a fixed and intense gaze on you pulled you out from overthinking. Semi’s brown eyes looked straight into yours, and somehow you felt a wave of calmness wash over you, deafening the sparse chattering around you. His lips formed a small smile, and differently from the sarcastic ones he usually offers you to mess around, it was genuine.

“You can do it, relax.” He mouthed, you barely caught the words as the staff crew announced the band and the curtains opened. Returning the smile with a nod, eyes diverting its focus to Akihiko - who beat his drumsticks four times, starting the presentation.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight!” Semi said on the microphone after the last song of the setlist, earning back a wave of screams and claps. “And special thanks to our support Y/n.”

The sudden attention you received startled you, but your response was to simply smile and bow to the public. You weren’t feeling shy at that moment, the adrenaline in your veins even made yourself enjoy the positive response from the public. As Akihiko came towards the stage and thanked everyone, the staff closed the curtains and Takeshi - who was closest to the exit - led the way out.

“You did amazing, Y/n!” Akihiko beamed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“I was so nervous, though!” You laughed with them at your answer. “But it was a good experience, I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Great, because you’re in the band for a couple more shows.” Semi announced with a smirk, only to that morph into a bigger smile. “I still have a few weeks with the cast and physiotherapy to attend… you better enjoy the spotlight, rockstar.”

All of you burst into laughter, heading to the backstage room you got ready before. The boys encountered their own friends in the process, and while you didn’t know any of them, you decided to organize your own stuff. Soon, your guitar was securely inside its case, a couple of makeup products were stored in the small bag you brought and your cellphone was stuffed in your backpocket.

“Eita-nii!” A new, and loud, voice bursted into the room. The girl - who you presumed was Semi’s sister by the honorific she used - ran towards the singer, wrapping her arms around his body. The man himself reciprocates the gesture, although shyer than her. “You and the boys were great today! Oh- and who is that girl who played support? You’ve never told me it would be a girl! I thought you’d invited Kaito.”

“Hey,” Semi said louder, looking at you. The unsaid invite to come closer made you get up from your seat in the corner and walk towards them. “Aime, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is my annoying younger sister, Aime.”

“Nii-chan!” Aime whined, quickly dismissing her brother as her attention focused solely on you. “You did so good on the stage! Eita has never told me he was friends with anyone new, let out a girl. I thought he was that antisocial that had only Akihiko and Takeshi-kun as friends.”

“I mean,” you giggled at Aime’s rambling, she was the complete opposite from her brother, which was endearing to see. “I didn’t know Semi considered me as his friends, once he thought I was hooking up with Akihiko.”

“What the hell, Semi?” The drummer jumped in the conversation, a grimace on his face. “I’d never do anything with Y/n- gosh I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Should I say you’re the stalker who would leave me alone if I sang for your project, then? I can still change the status.” Semi teased you, in response, you lightly punched his left arm. “By the way, what are you doing here Aime? Don’t you have a curfew to follow? Does mom and dad know your whereabouts?”

“I’m not ten anymore, Eita!” She let out a huff in annoyance. “I’m twenty, remember that? A college student that has every right to enjoy herself on a Friday night after a tiring week.”

You let the two siblings bicker between them, taking in that new side of the singer you’ve never imagined he’d have. The usually cold, snarky boy also had a soft spot for his sister was also the common overprotective, caring older brother. You had to admit the duality in Semi’s personas suited him, and you felt like another side of his mysteries was presented to you.

“Well, I have to get going…” you announced gathering your things up, hearing Takeshi and Akihiko’s protests. “I booked a studio early in the morning, I want to be productive, not a literal zombie going over a few samples. Not to mention the last bus will stop by soon. Thank you so much for your hard work, guys! And also, it was a pleasure to meet the better Semi, Aime.”

“I barely know you but I’m sure I’ll like you!” Aime hugged you, while Semi scoffed ironically. “Hope we meet again soon, Y/n!”

“Wait, let me grab my coat.” Semi stopped you from leaving the room after saying goodbye to both Takeshi and Akihiko. “I’ll take you to the bus stop. Who knows what could happen in the middle of the night?”

“And what will you do? Hit them with your cast?” You sassed, the man rolled his eyes, taking the small bag from your hands.

The two of you left the live-house in silence, enjoying how the loudness gradually decreased and the city noises overtook your senses. You started to feel tired from the show just now, your eyelids were heavier than usual and your shoulder muscles ache due to the tension and nervousness you were feeling. Either way, you felt good, performing was nice - though if you had to choose, being inside a studio felt much more comfortable.

“You did well today.” Semi spoke out of blue, with your peripheral vision you analysed him. His head was upwards looking to the sky, the corner of his mouth was tugged in a small smile and his posture gave off the feeling he was feeling satisfied. “You were so nervous before going on stage, but when we started, you looked like you’ve performed before. You have a talent.”

“It was the adrenaline.” Both of you laughed at your comment, silencing yourselves as you arrived at the bus stop. It was empty, which was expected given the fact it was almost one in the morning, so you took a seat next to each other. “I never imagined you were the protective older brother…”

“Trust me, you’re not the first one to tell me this,” he scoffed jokingly, a much softer expression adorned his face at the topic of his sister. “Aime is just… something else, you know? As her older brother, I think I have to shield her from being hurt - even if it means I get hurt”

“What, have you punched someone in the face because of her?” You joked, only to the laughter die on your throat at his positive response with a nod. “You’re kidding me, Semi!”

“I’m telling the truth!” He protested, a frown appearing on his face. “Some boy thought he could call my sister a bitch and leave unpunished. It was my very first fight, but as Aime’s brother, it was my job to teach that little shit a lesson.”

“Bet he punched you in the face, as well.”

“Yeah, but,” Semi stopped talking, inhaling deeply before turning to you. “You saw how she is, I- I can’t never let someone take it away from her. Nobody is allowed to hurt her like…”

“Like…” you tried to encourage him to speak after a few seconds, only for him to sigh tiredly and give you a meek smile.

“Nothing… guess it’s just the cliché older brother talk,” the way he avoided finishing his original train of thought didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you let it go to not cause further embarrassment. As the two of you entered in a comfortable silence, you saw the bus turning into the main avenue. “The princess’ carriage has arrived, my lady.”

“Thank you very much for protecting me, my knight in shining… arm cast.” You giggled at your lame joke, taking the bag from his hands. “I’ll talk to you soon… regarding the project and stuff.”

“And don’t forget we have rehearsals.” Semi reminded you, getting up from his seat. The bus stopped in front of you, the two of you stared at each other not knowing what to do. Before you could turn and hop on the vehicle, the man ruffled your hair with a mischievous smile. “Good night.”

“Good night, Semi.”

1997 (age of 3)

The white corridors seemed to be longer in Semi’s perspective, his young perception didn’t allow him to estimate how long he'd been walking with his grandparents on that floor. What buzzed in his mind was the new piece of information grandma told him before leaving the house.

“Let’s visit mommy and Aime-chan, Eita-kun.”

The boy was still confused why his mother had to go to a hospital to meet his younger sister - even though his parents had innumerous talks about this special day. Nevertheless, Semi was excited to see mom and dad after a whole day without them - and to finally see Aime.

Grandad knocked on the door, gently pushing it open so Semi could walk in. The sight of strange wires and tubes on his mother’s skin scared him, bumping into the older’s legs. Sensing his distressed expression, his father came closer to him, scooping the little kid in his arms. Semi hid his face on the crook of his dad’s neck, avoiding eye contact with the starling objects near his beloved mom.

“Eita,” her smooth voice called him, he lifted slightly his head to meet her eyes, only to hide again. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Mommy is hurt…” he whispered, pointing to all the equipment near the bed.

“No, buddy, mom is not hurt,” his dad denied, tapping lightly his back as an invitation for him to look around. “These things are making sure mommy is doing fine, she’s been pretty tired, remember we talked about it? How would Mommy feel tired after Aime left her tummy?”

An unknown whine filled the room, making Semi lift his head to search for the source of said sound. His eyes eventually fell on the tiny baby on his mother’s arms, opening and closing her mouth as little noises escaped through her thin lips.

“Aime?” Semi pointed out, suddenly feeling curious. His father sat him down next to his mother, letting him have a better view of the baby. “Aime is small!”

“Yes, she is, sweetheart.” His mother agreed softly, pulling the blanket slightly downwards so her son could see Aime’s face. “But soon she’ll grow bigger, and you two can play together. Will you share your toys with her?”

“Only if she doesn’t drool on them!” His statement made everyone laugh, but Semi couldn’t care less, too entertained with his sister. “I love Aime.”

“You have to protect her as the older brother, Eita.” His father told him, coming closer to them. Semi nodded excitedly, lowering his head to leave a kiss on Aime’s forehead.

2012 (age of 18)

All Semi could see was red as he approached Aime in front of a café. She was accompanied by her friends and some stranger boy, who was awfully close to his baby sister. The words a fellow classmate told him before they left the dorms for winter break rang through his head.

“Hey, Semi, I heard a guy from another school has been hitting on your sister for a while. My friend told me she’s pretty bothered by him.”

“Aime!” He screamed, heavy footsteps marking his way over the thin layer of snow. The said girl turned around, a mixed expression between relief and fear on her face. Stopping in front of the boy, Semi opened a bit more his chest in order to look more intimidating. “What the fuck do you want with her?”

“None of your business, dude.” His voice was coated with anger, the short phrase said between gritted teeth. “I saw this beauty first, back off.”

“And I said I’m not interested!” Aime piped in with a squeak.

“You heard her.” Semi stepped closer to him, locking eyes with the stranger. “Get lost.”

“This little slut is playing hard to get.” The world seemed to stop spinning, Semi took a second to process what that guy had the audacity to call his little sister. “I dare you to say this after I-”

He couldn’t finish his words as Semi threw the first punch right into his left cheek, knocking him to the floor. Kneeling next to him, the pinch server proceeded to get a firm grasp on the collar of his coat with the left hand, while his right one collided with the boy’s face repeatedly. Semi could hear at the back of his head people screaming at him, Aime calling out his name, but nothing would make him stop until that brat learned his lesson.

The other boy managed to get a hold of himself, punching Semi on his sides - who lost his breath and received another hit on the face. On his tongue, he felt the taste of his own blood - and he wasn’t able to distinguish where it could be from: either from his lips or the inside of his cheeks. With his knee, Semi returned the blows on his ribs, quick to sit himself on the boy’s stomach.

Every punch he gave seemed to increase its power, shifting between his nose, cheeks and mouth. Semi has never felt so enraged before, just remembering what he had called Aime made his body warm with adrenaline and wrath.

“I dare you to call my sister,” Semi muttered between huffs of air, feeling difficulty to breathe in and out due to the intense body movement and the pain on his sides. “A slut again. I fucking dare you!”

Before he could do anything else, two men held him back, making sure to wrap their hands on his arms, and lifted him up. Semi, in his last act of anger, kicked the boy laying on the floor aimlessly. The other boy was aided by another man, refusing his care to get up and look straight into Semi’s eyes.

“Watch out, asshole, I’m getting back to you.”

“Be ready to have a fucking broken nose.” Semi mocked him, and before he could continue his threats, Aime appeared in front of him with tears stained over his cheeks. “I was the one who got punched and you’re crying.”

“Are you insane!?” She asked distressingly, knocking on his chest - which made him lose his breath. “Why would you do that?”

“Isn't it obvious?” He asked, gently freeing himself from the men’s grasp. “I’m your older brother.”

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maybeebeee · 4 years

Text

The Instance of the Curry Cup

Hi! I haven’t written and posted something in quite a while, but Pokemon SWSH has absolutely consumed my life so here’s a little thing while I’m writing a much bigger thing!

A group chat leads to a party that leads to a curry cooking competition. Piers relentlessly teases Gloria for having a crush on Hop. Hop has a crisis. Just another day in the life of some of Galar's most prominent figures.

As a note for the group chat section of this fic, here are the nicknames to note which characters are who!

Hippity Hop = Hop Eat Sand = Raihan Champion Time Snr = Leon Croon Toondra = Gloria Mermaid = Nessa Big Tiddy Goth GF = Piers Flame Dad(dy) = Kabu Wooloolooloo = Milo Kung Fu Fighting = Bea Rocky Horror = Gordie Baby Goth = Marnie

Rated G, some mild language use | Hop, Gloria, and the other rivals are around 15/16 | Read on AO3 or under the cut!

It had all started with a group chat.

Not long after becoming Champion, Gloria had been added to the gym leader group chat. Leon, Piers, and Opal were still in it and she had learned quickly that Piers, Gordie, and Raihan were the instigators of most of the chaos in that chat. Marnie seemed to encourage her brother a little too much on that front, but overall it was fairly controlled chaos.

Then the second group chat came about.

Raihan had started it, mainly to avoid Melony’s constant reminders to be aware of the language being used with Allister around on the other chat. Subsequently, neither Melony nor Allister were on the new chat.

Nearly everyone else was, though, besides Opal. Even Hop and Sonia had been added, given that it was more of an open chat than the “official” gym leader one. Given that combination, however, it was far more of an ordeal to try and deal with that group, and with Piers and Raihan apparently never sleeping at all, it felt like Gloria’s Rotomphone was constantly buzzing with notifications at even the most insane hours of the night.

It had been just over a year since she’d won the Champion Cup, and Gloria now found herself standing in the kitchen of Leon’s sizable flat in Wyndon, surrounded by the physical embodiment of the most ridiculous parts of that second group chat.

Raihan had suggested the party-but-not a few weeks back, and after a fair bit of negotiating schedules, it had been decided that tonight was the best night to do it, so here they all were. Gloria was glad for the reprieve from her neverending Champion duties, and she’d been absolutely over the moon to see Hop again after what seemed like forever.

And now here she was, knocking elbows with her rival-slash-best friend as they and a bunch of their partially tipsy adult friends battled it out in what had been dubbed the Curry Cup by whoever had suggested the stupid idea in the first place. Probably Raihan.

“Two minutes left!” Slurred Sonia from across the bench. She was just about completely relying on Nessa to stay on her feet at this point, yet somehow still had it in her to decide how much longer those of them competing could cook for. Coming to these gatherings had certainly been an eye-opening experience for Gloria, seeing so many of the most well-known figures in Galar coming together and getting completely sauced for the hell of it.

“You said ten minutes literally thirty seconds ago!” Hop whined, haphazardly throwing in some extra ingredients to finish off his curry when Sonia simply waved him off. Gloria wondered how much of Sonia’s hangover her friend would have to deal with at the lab in the morning, or if the young professor simply wouldn’t show up at all.

It certainly wasn’t two minutes before all of the participants were ushered away from their curries, but Hop still seemed quite confident with his final product. Gloria couldn’t say the same for her own, especially being so used to taking her time with cooking when she camped out with her Pokemon. Not that she had much time to do that anymore, really.

“Sorry to say, but I’m definitely crushing you in this competition, mate, I can just feel it!” Hop said as he slung a friendly arm around Gloria’s shoulders, watching intently as Sonia, Nessa, and Bea walked along the row of curries on the bench to judge them all. Gloria tried to ignore how warm her face was suddenly feeling, but the look she got from Piers told her she wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it.

Damn her own big mouth for blabbing to him about her crush on Hop, the one time she couldn’t sleep and happened to be awake at three in the morning, with Piers being the only one she could think to message at that hour. It had been a good conversation, actually, but still.

Every time she’d seen him since then, it seemed like he was teasing her about Hop. Even directly in front of Hop. It was constant, but Piers claimed it was because Marnie didn’t get crushes on people, so he was using her as a stand-in when it came to teasing about that kind of thing.

Ignoring the ex-gym leader’s very obvious silent mocking, Gloria turned her attention back to Hop and lightly elbowed him in the side before wrapping her own arm around him in return. “As if,” She laughed, “Who’s the undefeated champion in this room? I’ve got this in the bag.”

As it turned out, neither of them were destined to be crowned the Curry Cup Champion, and the competition ultimately went to Leon. Hop decided that it was all rigged because the judges weren’t sober, and had wandered back into the living room with a dramatic huff as most of the other guests went to congratulate his brother.

Piers seemed to take the opportunity to suddenly appear next to Gloria with a ridiculously smug look on his face. “Seems you’re ‘aving fun. Said anything to ‘im yet?”

She folded her arms and pouted crossly. “No. Cannae say anythin’ with you nearby anyway, you’re such a pest.”

Piers scoffed. “Please. I’m doing the both of you a favour, bruv, since ‘e won’t say it and neither will you. The two’ve you are gonna go crazy if this keeps up. I’m gonna go crazy if I ‘ave to watch you idiots keep dancin’ around each other for the rest of time!”

“Shut up, he’s obviously not got anythin’ to say on the topic. Do ye know how much he talks? Surely he’d have said something by now if there was somethin’ to say.”

“Do you ‘ave any idea how much he talks to me? ‘E always messages me at times kids your age shouldn’t be up, sayin’ how he doesn’t want to bother you but can’t sleep and keeps thinkin’ about you so ‘e decided to message me and blah blah blah. Please just tell ‘im so that he actually messages you when he’s thinkin’ about you, there’s only so much more of his sappy shit I can take.” Piers practically begged, seeming like he was mere seconds away from pulling out his phone to show her the evidence. Gloria didn’t doubt that Hop had messaged him plenty, but she still wasn’t convinced that he reciprocated her feelings, even though she knew she had no reason not to believe Piers.

Still, she pulled up the collar of her cardigan to try and hide the bright blush on her face at the thought of Hop being all sappy about her. The question still remained, though, “Why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Not like he hasn’t messaged me at four AM before sayin’ he misses me or whatever. Gotta say I’ve done the same, prob’ly more sappy than him too.”

Piers gave a dramatic sigh and turned back towards the kitchen. “I need another drink. You’re ‘opeless, the both of you.”

Gloria let out a huff of her own, but decided now would be a good time to retreat after her rival, hoping that maybe now they could actually catch up a bit more now that she’d gotten Piers off her back and everyone else was still preoccupied in the kitchen. Only, she got to the living room and found Marnie and Bede, with no Hop in sight. The other two weren’t sure where he’d gone, only giving a vague direction to “outside.”

With that clue in mind, Gloria headed for the balcony, recalling how Hop had mentioned once that he liked to stand out there and see if he could spot Postwick in the distance, past all of Wyndon’s bright lights and vast expanse of the Wild Area even further past that. It seemed like a good place to start.

True to her assumption, Hop was leaning against the railing and squinting out into the night, so she casually sidled up next to him and prodded his shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something, Hopscotch?” She questioned, a gentle teasing note in her voice.

Hop shrugged. “Nothing to worry about, mate. Just the usual.” His tone was flatter than Gloria had been expecting, so she raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at her yet.

“The good usual or the anxiety usual?” The teasing was gone now, replaced with concern as she let her hand rest on Hop’s shoulder. Many late-night phone calls over the past year had made Gloria well aware of the fact that her best friend still suffered greatly from the many untruths and insecurities that his mind threw at him, even though he seemed to be doing better than he ever had before on the outside, and it was always heartbreaking to watch when he got like this.

“Stop calling me out like that.” Hop joked halfheartedly, his weak smile quickly falling back into a frown, “But really, don’t worry. Just me getting all upset over something stupid again, which is the usual.”

Gloria squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll bet my hat it’s not stupid. Is it the competition?”

He nodded sheepishly following a moment of silence, as if he knew he wasn’t getting out of this now. “It is stupid. Who gets worked up about losing some stupid curry contest that Raihan came up with anyway? It was supposed to just be some fun thing and I ruined it for myself by...by doing what I always bloody do, you know? Losing, and then getting upset about losing, and then getting upset because I know I’m never going to be number one at anything, and then beating myself up for being so stupid, and--”

“Hey.” Gloria interjected, “You’re not stupid, you hear me? Losing doesn’t make ye stupid. Being upset about things doesn’t make you stupid, and your brain lying to you about your worth doesn’t make ye stupid. You are not stupid, alright? You’re strong.” She encouraged, shifting to settle her arm properly across Hop’s shoulders and pull him closer to her side. Their height difference was making it a little harder now that he’d suddenly sprouted almost half a head taller than her since the last time they’d seen each other, but Gloria didn’t care.

Hop didn’t say anything, but leaned into her a little more, so she continued. “You wanna know a secret? You’re my number one. Always have been. So don’t go sayin’ you’re not the best at anything, because you’re the best to me.”

There was nothing but the sound of Wyndon's bustling streets below for a long moment, but suddenly Gloria was being pulled into a tight hug, with Hop's head resting atop hers. "Thanks. Really." He breathed into her hair, "For the record, you're my number one, too. Undefeated champ or not." The soft laugh he let out that time was genuine, and Gloria couldn't help the smile that came to her face in response. Never would there be another sound as sweet as Hop's laughter, she thought.

When she finally leaned back just enough to look at Hop properly, Gloria had to take a breath to compose herself, suddenly noticing the lack of space between their faces. She hadn't intended on that happening, so she tried to ignore it, like she always tried to ignore her feelings for him. "Say, I was thinkin' about going camping in the Wild Area tonight, wanna tag along? We could make some curry together with our Pokemon, no competition allowed." That wasn't exactly the usual way one went about ignoring their feelings, but at this point she figured it didn't matter. How many times had they camped out together anyway? No big deal.

Hop beamed. "Sounds brilliant! Shall we go now?"

Gloria laughed, but was already reaching into her bag to find Flygon’s pokeball. Since becoming Champion she’d realised she needed to be extra careful about keeping her Pokemon as close to her as possible, especially given that she now had Zamazenta as a trusted member of her team. She didn’t want anything to happen to any of her dear Pokemon friends, which was why these days she always kept her bag on her, or at least within arm’s reach no matter where she was. Just in case.

Flygon let out a happy trill as it burst from its pokeball, setting down expectantly on the balcony behind Hop and Gloria as if it already knew their plan. The two young trainers quickly climbed aboard the eager Pokemon's back, and Gloria's heart began to race when Hop settled in behind her and curled his arms around her waist. We're about to take off, you daft bastard, of course he's gotta hold onto something, she reminded herself.

“Alright, Flygon, let’s get goin’. To the Wild Area!” Gloria announced. The Pokemon didn’t hesitate to take to the sky once again, both of its passengers whooping with delight once the initial jolts and jerks had passed. Maybe a Flying Taxi would’ve been a smoother ride, but there was something so much better about trusting your own Pokemon enough to transport you safely to where you wanted to go, and it was certainly cheaper than paying to get all the way to the Motostoke side of the Wild Area from Wyndon in a Flying Taxi.

It had already been reasonably dark when they’d left Wyndon, being a little while after dinner time by then, but by the time they made it to North Lake Miloch it was well and truly night time outside. Gloria had actually started to doze off at some point when there had been a pause in conversation, and she awoke with a start as Flygon landed back on the ground. Thank goodness for Hop being able to direct Flygon as effectively as she could herself.

Still, the heat rushed back to her cheeks when she realised that she’d been leaning almost entirely back into Hop’s chest as she’d fallen asleep, but by that point she could only hope that he hadn’t taken too much notice of it. They’d fallen asleep on each other plenty of times, anyway, why should it matter now? Catching feelings was annoying.

If Hop had thought anything of it, he didn’t mention it, and the two of them went about setting up camp with as much friendly banter as usual. Gloria had a handful of berries and half a bag of mushrooms in her supplies, while Hop had some other berries to contribute as well as a few potatoes. They figured it would all mix well enough together, so they let out all of their Pokemon and set to work.

“Maybe letting twelve Pokemon have free reign of the camp wasn’t the best idea.” Hop commented when Gloria’s Flareon came up for the third time to try and taste some of the curry before it was ready.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” The Champion said coyly, gently shooing away her meddlesome Pokemon, “They’re all such angels, they’re not doing anything wrong at all.”

Hop laughed. “You’re right, it’s just Flareon. And also our Dubwools chasing each other around everywhere. And Zacian and Zamazenta looking like they’re about to murder anyone that dares get too close to the camp.”

Gloria shrugged as she fished around for a few plates to get ready for serving up. “At least they’re looking out for us. I feel better having them ‘round, just in case.”

“Fair call.”

Not long after that, the curry was served and most of the Pokemon had been settled down by the offer of some food. Hop and Gloria sat close together by the fire that Flareon and Hop’s Cinderace were keeping an eye on, and chatted idly about this and that, all sorts of things that they’d missed in each other’s lives since the last time they were able to meet up, or even have a long conversation on the phone.

There were neverending topics to cover. Hop being able to do research on some of his own projects now, Gloria’s latest exhibition matches, silly things they’d caught their Pokemon doing...it always felt as though they’d never missed a beat when they saw each other, like no matter where they left off they could always pick it right back up again.

“You know,” Hop said after a while, once they’d both truly lost track of time and could only guess that it was some time in the middle of the night by now. Gloria was leaning against his shoulder, with his arm casually draped around her in return as they both lay up against their Dubwools. “I really wish we got to do this more. I mean I know we’re both really busy and all now, but…” He sheepishly glanced away, “I dunno. I just miss you, mate. A lot.”

Gloria gave a gentle smile and leaned into Hop a little more. “I know the feeling. Seems like we went from seeing each other every day when we were growin’ up, to once or twice a week during our Gym Challenge, to now...what, once a month if we’re lucky? It’s stupid, I just wanna see my best friend all the time.” She sighed.

How long would it be after this time that they’d be able to spend an extended period of time together like this again? Sure, Gloria had tomorrow as well, but after that she had to head to Kalos for Arceus knew how long for all manner of exhibition matches and photoshoots and advertising campaigns. It was unfair how little time she got to spend at home anymore, she still didn’t know how Leon managed to do it for ten years straight, and from an even younger age than her, for that matter!

Hop’s next quiet comment cut her out of her spiralling thoughts. She could’ve sworn there was a slight blush tingeing his cheeks, but it could’ve just been the firelight. “Best friend, huh?”

She quirked up a brow in surprise and sat up slightly. “Aye? Always have been, always will be, you know that. Is...something wrong?” Surely this wasn’t going where her lovestruck teenage brain was hoping it would. There was no way Hop liked her like that as well. Piers could not be right about this whole thing.

The boy in question kept his gaze trained on his lap, but Gloria felt his fingers tapping a nervous pattern on her shoulder, where he still had his arm around her. “I, um.” Hop started, rather eloquently, “I...like you. As in, like like you. And I think I have for a really long time but I just never wanted to say anything because I figured you wouldn’t like me back since we were always just best friends, but...sorry. You don’t have to like me back, I just wanted to let you know. Just in case, I guess. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have opened my big mouth.”

Gloria could’ve sworn her heart stopped in that moment. She felt like she was acting on autopilot when she reached over to grab Hop’s free hand, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as well. His skin was soft and warm under her lips, and she felt so giddy as she drew back to look at Hop’s adorably surprised expression, his wide golden eyes and slightly parted lips. An irrational part of her mind wanted to lean in and kiss him properly, but now certainly wasn’t the right time for that.

“Of course I like you back, Hopscotch. Honestly cannae believe you didn’t notice how unsubtle Piers was being about teasin’ me literally every single opportunity he got, he’s an idiot.” Gloria laughed, giving his hand a squeeze as he seemed to still be processing what had just happened.

Hop managed to sputter out a laugh of his own a second later, pulling Gloria closer to his side and planting a little kiss of his own to her head. “Are you kidding me? I thought Piers was teasing me about it constantly. I had a three AM crisis to him months ago about it, I can’t believe it.”

Gloria snorted in her laughter, causing a few of their nearby Pokemon to look at her with concern. “I did the exact same thing. Arceus above, I really thought he was havin’ a laff when he said you were messaging him about me!”

“Serious? With the way he said it I was sure he was kidding when he said you were doing the same thing as me! Maybe he was right, we really are dumb.”

Somehow they ended up in a bit of a tangle as they laughed, unapologetically clinging to each other now that they were both apparently on the same page with what it all meant. Maybe nothing had really changed that much with their admissions at all, maybe - much to both of their dismay - Piers had been right, and they’d just been subconsciously waiting for someone to say something this whole time.

Either way, once they had finally composed themselves enough to focus, Gloria leaned in to press her cheek up against Hop’s. “So...Hop, my dearest best friend and favourite rival.” She teased, “You wanna...be my boyfriend as well?”

Hop grinned, his eyes crinkling up with glee. “Gloria, mate, my number one and favourite champ, obviously yes.”

Gloria beamed. “Great. Brilliant.” She whispered giddily.

The following morning, a photo of the two of them in close quarters surrounded by several of their Pokemon was sent to the group chat, accompanied by a short message.

Hippity Hop [7:48AM] :

sorry we disappeared last night lads, spontaneous camping trip! also we’re dating now. have a great day :)

Eat Sand [7:49AM] :

wait...you weren’t already dating???

bloody hell my life is a lie

leon why’ve you been lying to me

Champion Time Snr [7:53AM] :

this is news to me mate i thought they’d been dating since they started the gym challenge

Croon Toondra [7:54AM] :

WHAT?!?

....you’re havin a laff right

Eat Sand [7:54AM] :

no lee really said he thought hop was your boyf

Croon Toondra [7:55AM] :

canny believe ye lee

thought we were friends

Champion Time Snr [7:55AM] :

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mermaid [7:58AM] :

honestly i agree w/ the boys i thought you were bf + gf for ages

sonia said you were

she can’t defend herself rn she’s still passed out hungover so

Big Tiddy Goth GF [8:00AM] :

bout time innit

felt like reality tv at this point

congrats tho took you ages

Flame Dad(dy) [8:03AM] :

Congratulations, although I have to say I was also under the impression you had been together since the Gym Challenge.

Wooloolooloo [8:04AM] :

Same here! You two are right cute though so congrats :)

Kung Fu Fighting [8:07AM] :

yeah rai told most of us that lee told him ages ago so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ good job anyway you cute

Rocky Horror [8:10AM] :

think we can all just agree someone was wrong and we’ll leave it there

that someone was lee but we’ll ignore that

reckon he’s just tryin to get us off his back about him and rai ;)

Champion Time Snr [8:11AM] :

thanks everyone appreciate it

also gordie please shut up

Hippity Hop [8:12AM] :

I forgive you lee!

at least for the sake of this group chat >:)

Big Tiddy Goth GF [8:14AM] :

get him hop it’ll be funny

lee watch out bruv

also you’re literally as bad as the kids with your feelings it’s disgusting

Baby Goth [8:15AM] :

Ignoring piers i’m happy for you two :D

Also thought it was a thing but that’s coz it just seemed like you were

No one actual said anythin to me

Croon Toondra [8:17AM] :

love ye all but i’m also fookin over ye dkjafhf

lee just go sulk and cuddle your boyf

Eat Sand [8:18AM] :

who’s lee’s boyf???? >:(

oh wait i see

fml

#postwickshipping #hpyu #raileon #truerivalshipping #pokemon hop #pokemon gloria #pokemon piers #pokemon leon #pokemon raihan #pokemon swsh #pokemon #may writes

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

the ice before the rainbow

title: the ice before the rainbow pairing: nakamoto yuta/reader genre: figure skater!au summary: yuta’s will is crashed after an injury almost ruins his entire career as a figure skater, but he seemingly forgets about something—the rainbow always follows after the rain. unbeknownst to him, the physiatrist who helps him with his injury holds all the colors of the world in her icy stare. type: lots of fluff/tiny bits of angst word count: 11,448

Yuta is in love with ice.

He lived off the feeling of gliding across the ice rink, battling gravity with one pirouette, glistening against the white ice with his bedazzled suits, becoming one with the music, with the cheering, with the air as he flew and fell down to a slow tempo. Yuta felt free, the perfect mixture between the side of his personality he never showed—softer, one that he could never show for the life of him—and his competitiveness. The ache on his feet are his pride, for he is a piece of art while also practicing a sport. In his head, Yuta loves ice because it doesn’t burn him, he considers himself equally as cold, freezing people with just one smile, making the Earth his own with his mightiness.

A failed attempt at a championship is not enough to ruin that; he tries to convince himself, but it actually ruins his situation a little bit. The Triple Axel just took its toll on him when the smile on his face and the cheering from the crowd changed to gasps and his pained expression. Unluckily for him, his femur took most of the fall, a pain so hard that it brought a shiver down his spine, unable to even stand up from the position on the ice. A broken bone later and five weeks of resting to the doctor’s content, Yuta was ready to go back and prepare for the next award under his name. If love is in the name of a sport, then he is going to live up to the expectations he has for romance. Strong. Passionate. Continuous.

His doctor thinks otherwise. Damn, even his own mother thinks that he should really take a break from the sport, perhaps find some kind of job online writing articles about figure skaters and their techniques instead of putting himself on the line, blinded by adrenaline and the need for success. But Yuta is a hard worker, one with the ice, dancing and performing in the air is what makes him live. One jump is not going to stop him, even when his left thigh is in severe pain and he still has to constantly check up on it, go to therapy and contact a masseuse in order to help the ache in his adductors.

The ice skaters at the ice rink welcome him with a smile, even when Yuta is clearly lumping in his walk, pushing the doors open with grins to share with everyone. His usual bag dangles off one shoulder, his ice skates waiting for him in his locker. His lungs get filled with the fog in the atmosphere, listening to the sound of the blades dragging across the ice, an old form of art that people could only appreciate when the Olympics came around. Painters used canvases, figure skaters used ice to draw figures, a dance that leaves an imprint on the floor.

His fingers reach up for his black, long locks, the elastic that he keeps around his wrist wrapping around his hair to pull it up in a small bun. These days, he has let his hair grow longer—sometimes, he thinks it is because he has been training so hard for that damned championship that he didn’t have time to cut his hair or style, or if he is actually just feeling more like himself with longer hair, freer in some kind of way that he can’t explain. Either way, it looks good on pictures, and it would have looked even more perfect with the hair-pins his cousin gifted him for the championship presentation, if only it wasn’t for his fall.

Some of those pictures that got to his email sadly show the most embarrassing moment of his life, but Yuta tries to convince himself he can do it. Gone are the hours to blush or bask in embarrassment, for that is unlike him, and this is the moment to simply practice.

His joints need to be moved, for Yuta is not a man of resting. His ears can almost make out the sound of his weight gliding across the ice, gaining strength and rapidness before lifting himself in the air. If he is lucky, he may stand on his feet instead of falling once again, but that is something that can only be discovered by going to the ice rink and proving to himself that he is, indeed, just as good as he imagines himself to be.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the sound of his locker’s door closing, almost taking the skin of his hand if only he hadn’t moved it away quickly. Blurry is his vision by adrenaline and anger when he turns around to look at the subject that had done such a thing, only to be met by two faces—one very familiar, old and wrinkly always wearing the same tacky lycra pants that he wore in his years of glory, and one that he has not seen in his life, or at least hasn’t paid attention to. The first face belongs to his coach, Daniel, and the other one is the face of a woman, letting her gaze wander around the changing rooms.

“Coach, you could have ripped my hand off!”

“You deserve it,” Daniel scolds, the tone of his voice poised as he takes a good look at Yuta. So, he knows he is stubborn, and that is exactly the same reason why he thinks he has been as successful as he is in two completely different fields in sports. Some days, when the coldness clings to the skin on his face so much that it hurts, is when he feels complete. A routine is a challenge for him, a reminder that there is always something better that he could be doing, and the tiredness that welcomes him when he gets home is more than fulfilling. “I had to get a text from one of the older students earlier this morning telling me you had said in the group chat that you were going to come here.” Before Yuta could defend himself, the Coach gives him a pointed look, only capable of shutting Yuta up as he drags himself to sit on the closer bench. “You are going to hurt yourself. You need to get massages first and stretch and do all kinds of things before going back to something as dangerous as the ice—”

“What is a massage going to do for me?” Yuta asks, letting his neck roll until the back of his head tips against one of the lockers. “I am absolutely fine. I need to continue practicing, Coach. This is my way of living, I can’t just stop and not do anything.” His family had been sweet enough to help him out; cooking for him, making sure that he took his pain medicine, fluffing out the pillows that carried the weight of his damned thigh, helping him get off the car when going to the doctor’s office…He is just tired of that. Not to say he doesn’t like the silky feeling of his blankets or being pampered, for one or two days like that every few months is not bad, but it is not enough to keep him going in life. “Do you just want me to not participate in championships so I lose my apartment, the food that I eat—”

“The doctor said, kid,” The Coach leans down in front of him, squinting his eyes at the long-haired ice skater. “That a femoral fracture takes three or four months to heal, and you need your legs to compete.”

“But I feel fine! I can walk now, and the Doctor says I’ve been healing fast.”

“Yes, I can’t argue with that. You’re walking and doing great, but I don’t think you can be skating right now. The Doctor also added you need to get fucking massages, Yuta.” Yuta knows better than to get obsessed with a sport. Most athletes feel like they need to live to an expectation of excellence, that they will only be worthy if they have a million golden medals and the cheers of people by their side, but he can’t help it. In the ice rink he feels functional, like there aren’t any worries in the world—like dropping out of college, one of the biggest problems that he had been facing in the past few years, and the fear of being a forgotten ice skater that could never live off his talent. After all, he had left his career in soccer for something else, something different. “Listen,” Daniel pats Yuta’s thigh and the man flinches, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle the sound. In the past, he has been told he is not good at hiding his feelings—and this is one of the main reasons why. “My uncle is a physiatrist and I called him as soon as I heard you were coming here, because if you’re not going to the doctor, I’m taking the doctor to you—”

“Coach, really, I appreciate your efforts and all…but I’ll be fine.” The ice skater tries to convince, standing up from his spot before giving one of those smile of his, those that battle all kind of badness in the world and replace it with utter happiness. He wants to feel happy and functional again. “Just let me get my ice skates and—”

“Yuta, I said no.” Not to be confused, Daniel is not a stern coach. If Yuta dreams it, he lets him do it. The amount of times Daniel has shaken his head at the thought of one of the jumps Yuta wants to try out is infinite, but he always follows after Yuta’s plans. He has a vision, one with the ice, romance in the form of a dance, but this is the first time Daniel stops him from reuniting with his beloved partner. “My uncle wasn’t available, but he recommended me a recent graduate that does home visits and whatnot. She’s…here, as you can see.” The ice skater’s eyes go over the physiatrist by the Coach’s side. Finally, she shares a glance with him and he sees that poised, rational and composed part most of health workers have. Coated in professionalism and what seems to be shyness, but it is past that—gone are the blushing expressions, the shaking eyes, instead, she simply looks blank. Icy, even. “Be nice to her.”

“Doc, nice to meet you.” He is not blind, of course, enchanted by the way her lips dip with the rose color she applied on them and how she seemed to take a little bit more of time on working that ponytail on her face. In his head, she imagines her as one of those students that always brought a book with themselves and pushed romance to the side in hopes of successful career. “But I’m fine. You can go to your other patients—”

Nonetheless, Daniel scoffs. “Doctor, just…stay.”

“Ah, Mr. Nakamoto, right?” She asks, raising a finger to quirk it up in questioning. Yuta almost wants to laugh at the name, for she doesn’t even look much older than him—perhaps too put together, taken away from medicine school, but not much different from him to have such pleasantries in her way of speaking.

“Yuta.”

“Okay, Yuta.” His name is softly spoken on her voice and he knows that soothing tone; the ones people use when they want the patient to listen to them. “I have heard from your Coach that you had a pretty bad injury, and it is never going to be the same for you when skating. It will be uncomfortable and you will have to get used to it, but to avoid worsening the fracture…” She trails her voice, looking into his eyes once again. “We need to practice a bit, massage the muscles around the thigh, make sure you get used to walking properly without putting much weight on it. This bone receives a lot of impact from movement.”

Daniel hums from somewhere beside Yuta, but he is too concentrated on the woman in front of him. Now, maybe he has had a plethora of women in his dating list—but he has always had something for challenges. He likes, in one way or another, those people who seem like they would never give him the time of the day and try to get their attention. This is one of those cases, but he masks his attraction whilst listening to her. “Did you hear that, Nakamoto?”

Even though she is gorgeous and resting does sound inviting with how his thigh seems to be throbbing in pain right now, he still cannot accept such offer. “But Coach, there is a championship coming nearby and we had already planned having me there.”

“I’ll have any of the other guys in your spot.”

“I do not want any of the other guys. I want to go.” Yuta complains, his jaw tightening in utter frustration. He knew he could have done that jump perfectly, but something had happened—he only wants to practice harder, try and try until his muscles hurt, only to prove to himself that The Triple Axel could be aced by him.

The Coach sighs loudly, pressing two fingertips to his right temple before looking over at the physiatrist. “I am going to look for some cushions so you can lay him down on the bench right there. Talk to him about this until I’m back.” Daniel excuses himself with a bow before getting out of the changing rooms and towards his office.

The thick moment of silence weights so much that it almost brings him down on the bench once again to rest, but then again, that could also be his body talking about how much of a strain he has put on his body in the past few days. Instead, he hears the sound of rustling and then, the lockers making a noise that indicate someone has leaned on them. When he looks to his side, he sees her attention is already on him and with a clear tone, she speaks up. “I know you want to continue practicing and this must be really difficult for you…” This is something that he has heard before and his eyes almost roll thanks to his own frustration, but then he continues. “But it is better to spend a few months away from the sport than just losing the opportunity to skate for the rest of your life.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It could,” She shrugs her shoulders, biting down on her bottom lip before extending her hand for him to take, introducing herself to him. Her skin is cold, perhaps for the atmosphere that he no longer feels around the ice rink, or because something within her heart is like that and it pours out in her body temperature. “I am a physiatrist resident, second year. I may not be much…but I’ll do my best to get you to heal soon. If we work in this together, I may get a few pictures for my thesis and you will get your leg back.”

His eyebrow raises in interest, his brown eyes studying every form of her expression. Red lips, cold eyes, the scowl over her face—natural of her. The solemnity that falls upon her, a sedative of sorts for people who got too close, but Yuta has never been afraid of ice. “Okay. I will do my best, Doctor.”

“Call me by my name.”

“Okay, I will.”

But even though he tries to get to know more about her, there is a barrier around her, an igloo that protects her from someone ever getting too close to her. If anything, Yuta is more concentrated in the pain that shoots up his thigh as she makes him do certain exercises, bringing it up to his chest, then slowly back down, massaging at the muscles and tendons only to hear him take a sharp inhale.

So he really is about to lose his dream to a fracture, huh?

He pushes the thought away, closing his eyes tightly as he asks her more questions, trying to cling to his last bit of sanity while she gives him short answers. Yes. No. Maybe. Okay.

Yuta is in love with the ice, and someone with such a cold personality must be the one to take him back there. He trusts her, strangely enough, something about her knowledge telling him that she is really going to live up to her words.

❄️

The lights of the ice rink are dimmed, casting upon the ice and leaving everything else to pure darkness. Somewhere in its silence, he swears he can hear the security guard lighting up a cigarette, but the heat does not reach him, neither does the smell. The long sleeves of his shirt are pulled down to reach his fingertips, though he wants to extend them in the elegant way he does when on stage—but he fears what is to come. His life is torn in two, in between the version of himself who wants to try getting back to figure skating as soon as possible and the other part of him that is asking for rest, one is heartfelt the other is mental. The voices speak too loud for him to stand, wanting to be left alone even by himself. It has been yet another week of just going to the ice rink simply to watch, to do some exercises with the physiatrist, of simply feeling useless.

It sickens him and of course, this is not the way he wants to feel for the next three months. In his own nostalgic way, he needs to feel the coldness caressing his skin, craves for the feeling of knowing it would only take a second to have him back to whom he used to be. That is why he pushed his bag in his locker, took his ice skates and promised himself that he was going to roam the blades through the thick concoction of frozen water. The same reason why he is earlier than usual, or why he is sitting near the ice in fear of letting go of the wall he is clinging to.

It’s just ice, he convinces himself. He has been there before.

But definitely not with his femur wanting to give up on him.

Though, it’s fine—Yuta claims mentally as he pushes himself towards the ice, both of his hands extended by his side to keep his balance. If Bambi could do it, so can he.

Freedom reaches him for the first time in weeks, though the pain he feels on his leg shoots up to his hip-bone, catching up to his knee when he decides to move quicker, rushing through with his legs in the positions he has learned like the back of his hand. He wants to jump, reach the sky in a twirling motion and land, but he doesn’t understand what is so wrong with that. His fingers move, finally becoming more relaxed when he feels like he has gained some balance. His lip is stuck in between his lips, used as a concentration matter just so he can go for that jump and he tries, gets closer and closer, arms folding to his sides, knees buckling the slightest bit in such a perfect manner that it deserved all the awards in the world. Yuta is one step away from trying the easiest jump he knows when he feels it—

A pain so bad that it has him gasping, losing his balance and reaching for the first thing he feels. Luck is on his side that morning, considering he grabs on to one of the railings near the ice rink and he hangs from it slightly whilst the muscles on his leg tremble. Adductors, the physiatrist had called them one of the many times he tried to embark in conversation with her, and he really wants to extract them from his body the moment he feels such an ache.

More than anything, it is his heart that goes through such agony. The devastation that takes over his body is insufferable, staring at the ice like a lover that is pushing him away, waiting for him to change before they can get back together. He wants to try again; he knows he can do it…

“Yuta!” Someone calls out or him, an exclamation that echoes through the place as they near him. He knows it is a woman, and he also knows that it is his physiatrist, but he doesn’t want to look anywhere in embarrassment, fear or frustration, perhaps all three. Instead, he feels the warmth of her hand—much welcomed whenever she greets him with a high-five, or now, when she holds it to help him up, and then, he hears her voice. “What do you think you are doing?!” She asks him, long gone her poise and soft spoken voice, now exchanged for utter confusion and anger. Finally, he moves the strands of his hair away from his face by shaking his head, looking up at her and resting his weight against that wall.

“I was trying to ice skate.” He says calmly, though she doesn’t seem half as calm. “Didn’t work anyways…” The disappointment that oozes from his words has her sighing, her scowl softening, her hand letting go of his quickly.

“I didn’t give you permission to ice skate.” She presses. “You should be resting and following after the therapy I am giving you. Not ice skating.”

“This is my job…You know this.” Yuta complains, bottom lip jutting out at his words before he groans softly, resting his head against the wall. “And now I’m stuck in here, and my leg really hurts, and I feel like I want to throw a punch but knowing my luck, I’ll probably break whatever bone is in my hands.”

“Bones. There are plenty in just one hand.”

“…Biology wasn’t my forte.” The ice glistens on both of their faces, creating beautiful stars as a reflection in their eyes. Yuta looks at her for a few seconds, wondering why he can’t read her in any possible way—he knows she is smart, but that is common knowledge, he also knows that she doesn’t talk much, but anyone would be able to tell such thing. What is there in her that he simply can’t explain? Something in her gaze, like she has found all the secrets in the world, but she would never give them to anyone even if they tried to get them away from her. “Hey, not to bother you or anything…but I really can’t move and…” For the first time in years, and he means it, his cheeks feel like they are burning for something more than just ice. Yuta doesn’t think he has blushed in the past decade, really, maybe when he was fourteen and had a crush on some girl, but other than that, he has lived his life in absolute peace. “I need someone to get in here and drag me out…or help me out, I can move, just that I’m too chicken to try to extend my leg.”

A shaky breath leaves her lips, the corner of them lifting up in what seems to be a smile. “Okay. Yes, I’ll get in there…I’ll get you out, but listen,” her voice becomes strict in the matter of seconds. “I am giving you an earful after this. You know I am working hard on that leg of yours.”

“I know.” Yuta claims, pointing with his index finger towards the lockers. “Get some skates over there and save me, please.” The whine in his tone is unlike him, he knows, but something within him likes the way she tries to protect him. Sure, the words are there—doctor, med degree, physiatrist, but Yuta likes to believe in his chances of getting her attention, as a friend, maybe.

Or just to get her attention, really. Yuta is not a saint, nor does he claim to be.

Once she is back, he can tell by the way she squats down to put her skates that she is not a professional, not even remotely close to a regular. One, her eyes hold so much fear he thinks she is going to cry right at that moment and if his thigh wasn’t in so much pain, he would have skated over to her just to figure out if she is fine. Two, her steps are anything but certain when she steps into the ice rink. And third, most importantly…the reason why Yuta’s smile widens quickly whilst he is hanging his weight on a railing, is that she wobbles the moment she starts skating. If he can even call it that, because she lands directly on her ass, looking at him with the most precious of surprises in her gaze.

“Oh my God,” Yuta smiles, chuckles a little bit actually, before sighing. “Okay…just…I am sorry for laughing. Get up.”

“I do not know how to skate, Yuta, if you haven’t noticed!” The bitterness in her tone makes her usually poised voice far higher, definitely at the verge of snapping.

“I just figured out. I will do my best to coach you through it—”

“How though?!”

“Just get up!”

By the time she gets to him, Yuta already feels his arms cramping from holding his weight up. Almost like two children learning how to skate, they look like, one because of his injury, another one because they have pushed any life experience apart from studying away just for the mere benefit of having good grades and a successful life. He is the same, without a degree, but giving up on a lot of things just to ice skate.

The fluffiness of the cushions makes him feel sick, much more when his thigh is pressed to his chest and he has the hardest time pushing it down and lifting it back up. Something as mundane as that is difficult for him, and that irks him terribly. His eyes want to get filled with tears, but he deems them ridiculous—what is crying going to do for him? “I hate this,” He mumbles at first, bawling his fists when she helps him push his thigh down, hissing at the pain. “It’s like life doesn’t want me to succeed in anything. When I was a soccer player, I got kicked out because I wasn’t as good as I used to be and now that I’m good at something, I have to destroy it, too.” Maybe, he should be as closed up as her. Icy, instead of loving the ice, but that is unlike him. Instead, he steals a glance at the woman who has her complete attention on him by now.

“It happens to a lot of athletes. It’s bound to happen to you, too.”

“But I didn’t want it to happen to me.”

“I am sure all those athletes who got injured in the past didn’t want it, as well.” She tries to sell the idea to him, taunting it like something normal. “Hey,” She pats his leg, caressing the soft flesh in between her fingertips—a massage, really, this is nothing out of the ordinary, that is her job. “I know it may not be much, but we all go through those times where we feel like our dream is escaping.” The reassurance makes him look up, realizing that she has some kind of doubt written on her face. Perhaps, she feels like he is getting too close. “When I failed my first test in med school, I thought it was over. I said to myself that I had tried so hard to get somewhere, only to ruin it in the first go.” She confesses and Yuta finds it impressive. In the short time they have known each other, she has never talked about herself. “But I realized I was just studying too hard. I took a break, read slowly, knowing that I just had to put little bits of efforts continuously to get to my goal, not try all of it at once.”

“And did it work?”

“I graduated. That’s something.” She replies before patting his leg softly. “So, you can do it. I’m here for you. I ice-skated for you, the least I want is to have a patient that doesn’t listen to me after I did that.”

The conversation that follows soon after feels warmer, and perhaps Yuta should get used to the feel of heat on his skin with every part of her that she uncovers with her words.

❄️

Patience is not his best trait, really.

In the realm of ice, he feels himself getting lost, that much is known, but after his last encounter with ice-skating and a good earful from his physiatrist, he knows better than to simply step in the ice and ruin both his doctor’s work and his career altogether. Always a risk taker, he is, but that trait of his has died down in the dull memory of whom he used to be.

By now, Yuta feels comfortable with the person that knows his muscles, bones and the structure of his impatient brain more than himself. After a month of complete treatment, going back and forth in between his orthopedic surgeon and his physiatrist, Yuta has gotten to know the woman that visits him once a week far more than he ever imagined. With the small structure of coldness that still seeps from her, he gets to see little glimpses of her real personality—the thoughtfulness she puts into her decisions, the moments in which she wants to let go but stops herself in doubtfulness, stories of her childhood that embarrass her when in reality they are the most normal thing in the world. Yuta is a risk taker, the complete opposite of her, but their lines connected in a simplistic dot, far too miniscule for people to notice.

They are so passionate about something that they have turned their backs to everyone else in their lives. Cinematic parallels, some would call this situation to be, and the more he got to know her, the more interested he felt in seeing how their perception of dreams were just so similar.

“Since I can’t ice-skate because of my leg…why don’t you ice-skate for me?”

“Oh, hell no.” She prompts, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “Come on, lift your leg like I told you and stop saying nonsense.”

Yuta does as she says, however, his statement remains intact. “It’s kind of life driving, you know? You need it for movement, and it’s a nice way to distract yourself—”

His eyes trail over her body to see her next movement, for that is what he is supposed to do. Though, inside his head, he couldn’t say he hasn’t seen the outer beauty of the physiatrist, hasn’t gathered confidence to flirt at her only to watch it dissipate thanks to her serious facade. Moments he grabs on to are definitely engraved in his brain, like the one time she seemed both embarrassed and frustrated when she had to ‘save him’ at the ice-rink, or the few times he has seen her angered expression when talking to her colleagues over the phone. Her smile, rarely seen nowadays, is one of his favorites, but in her opinion…she says she smiles too much.

Not enough for him, though.

And she definitely does not smile when Yuta’s good legs—he is getting better, or maybe it is passion that is moving him at this point—practically lead her to pick up the same shoes that she had taken the day he had gotten stuck at the ice rink, making sure to talk about the importance of wearing the garments adequately. His long hair frames his features as he kneels in front of her, tightening them enough to keep them in place before he is up at his feet once again, their faces briefly close. His senses grow aware of her perfume, most of the time forgotten in their rushed meetings, of her hands and how they hold on to his forearms when he puts his own shoes on, too skilled in their own version of art, rough to the touch, somewhat heavy. Yuta notices the lines under her eyes, gift of endless hard-work, the drying lipstick in the inside of her mouth, the soft caress of her eyelashes when she blinks, its own version of purity, he likes to believe.

“Okay, here we go.” The man instructs, pointing at one of the entrances towards the ice-rink. “You’ll be here, alright? And I’ll be on the other side. I want you to skate over to me.” Before she could say anything, Yuta is already moving over the ice, slowly and thoughtful, like he is tracing the outline of his home, full of memories of the past. Once on the other edge, he is fully aware of her complaints.

“Yuta, I swear—! I have worked so hard on your leg and if you end up ruining it—!”

“I will not!” He says, hands raised up in the air in some kind of defeat. He sits down on the edge of the ice-rink, the cold floor passing through the fabric of his jeans. “You are the one skating. This is for future knowledge, you never know when you’re in the middle of nowhere, the ice is coating the street and you have to use two butter knives under your shoes to ice-skate to the other side.”

Now, he knows she doesn’t believe the whole dumb act that he pulls off, trying to feign happiness in this moment of his life. A spider that hangs into webs, afraid of being swept away by more powerful beings, Yuta holds on to the things that make him happy. Sports. Nature. Fun. Jokes. Family. Friendship. Strangely enough, making the physiatrist laugh is up there. “Yuta, for the love of God,” She rolls her eyes, chuckling as her hands wrap tightly around the railings, too afraid of falling on her ass as done previously. “Tell me one situation in real life where that would happen.”

Yuta clicks his tongue, as if the answer is obvious. “In the zombie apocalypse? Zombies can’t skate.”

“No comment.” The tone of her voice has him laughing, so joyous he can feel his heart bursting with heat. “Okay, so, what do I get from this?”

Tilting his head to the side, he responds. “Me, of course.”

“You’re the prize?”

“A good one, indeed!” There it is, the smile he is looking for, the only warm part of her. With his hands clasped together, grip as tight as their bond—not too lose, not too clamped—, he finally decides to speak up. “Walk first, but not completely straight. You need to…put all your weight on the balls of your feet, kneel down a bit, just try that at first.” The instructions process through her brain perfectly, as it seems, taking a few steps that reminded him a lot of the kids that would try ice-skating for the first time. “Stay close to the wall, just in case you fall.”

With a huff leaving her lips, fruit of her own frustration, she sighs. “Yuta, I know I am going to fall!”

“Everyone falls!” His voice is certain, though it wanted to falter. He is the perfect example that even professionals could fall. “Okay, now that you have that down, I know you’re wobbling and all—”

“Whoa, thank you.”

“Just listen to me!”

“I can’t!” The whine on her time is masked by a smile, a reminder that she truly enjoys her time at the ice-rink. He has heard it before, after that apology text he sent her after having her skate towards him, and she simply says she likes it. Perhaps, the coldness is familiar to the temperature at hospitals, or maybe she feels like she is at home—an ice queen in his eyes, really.

“You’re going to glide, which means pushing your weight slightly while keeping balance and to stop, you simply push your knees and toes inwards, that’s the easiest way.” Determination fills her face, mixed with a little bit of doubt, because Yuta’s words sound easy, with the smile on his face both teasing and reassuring. Of course, Yuta knows what he is doing—he may not have been good at biology, but damn is he good at speaking. The debate clubs wanted him, even though he never got in one. “I believe in you.”

Seven falls later and barely a nice try, he still believes in her, but she doesn’t believe in herself anymore.

Patience is not his virtue, sure, but perhaps he is having a good time as he watches her huff with anger, trying once again only to do it with more frustration than the last time. Mind him, it’s cute when he offers her help, only to have her swatting him away with her words. When she slips once more time, this time letting out a groan that rips directly from her chest, Yuta stands up from his position, chuckling along the way before he takes her by the arm, chest to chest by the time she is up at her feet.

“Let me help you.” The words roll of his tongue prettily, but she shakes her head.

“No. This isn’t for me!” Of course she is going to complain, and Yuta takes the time to keep his lips sealed in a nice smile. This is the most ice-less he has ever seen her, showing the human side of her—not that she is not human, but she damn right gives that vibe sometimes. “…What are you planning?”

Slotting his arm in the crook of her elbow, he starts moving at a decent pace; definitely slower than he has ever skated for the past years of his life, but a normal pace for someone as bad as her when it comes to ice-skating. “Just ice-skating with you. I need practice, and you need to learn that stomping on the floor is not gliding.”

She laughs at his words, although a bit deeper than her previous laughs, for the taste of failure clings to her. “This comes to you so naturally.”

A deep sigh leaves him, pushing his body so he is standing in front of her, taking both of her hands in his to keep her balance. His mind is clouded by a repetition of that video he saw of himself falling—failing, becoming exactly what he feared he would ever be. “See? Ice-skating is like dancing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You just have to trust me in this, okay? You’ll learn.” His voice is soft as he speaks to her, ice-skating whilst never looking over his shoulder to see where he is going. He, too, is one with the ice—just like her, but for different reasons.

“I trust you.”

❄️

Never does he pick up his calls, for that is just his trademark. It is not like people make calls nowadays, or that is how he defends himself, texts are far more usual and he can always check up on those at the time he wants, no connotations added to his actions. That is until one Saturday night, when he is watching a compilation of the best jumps in the ice-skating industry on YouTube, he receives a call. His mind ponders on putting his phone aside, waiting for the other person to give up on calling him, and just continue with his sad hours of longing for his career, but then he realizes who it is. His friend the physiatrist, the same person who would much rather call the devil itself rather than asking for help, and if she is calling him instead of texting him, then it must be a pretty difficult situation.

But he gets the short side of the story, a brief invitation to have ice-cream leaving him dumbfounded, but it is not a surprise when he accepts, picking up a pair of jeans and a bomber jacket before heading out the apartment.

The air is too cold, blowing at the strands of his hair that is barely pushed back by a bun, and he cusses at the fabric of his leather jacket. The situation makes him feel odd, given that he has spent so many years of his life surrounded by cold and at one point, he likes to believe he grew used to it but after seeing himself in the reflection of himself the glassed doors of the ice-cream parlor give, he thinks he has changed in the past month and a half. His life is way more simplistic, like it is not his to control anymore. Long gone are the bedazzled suits, the cheering for him, the premises people would put under his name as a representative of the sport. And sometimes, he believes he is not even trying, that he simply has grown used to being like this.

Yet, someone is trying for him, someone is leading him closer to his renewal as an artist and a sportsperson. That, of course, is the same woman that eats ice-cream on the coldest night of the year, not minding her runny nose and the cough that leaves her lips when she takes another spoonful of ice-cream. Seated by one of the tables, all of them would be empty otherwise, is whom he likes to consider his latest friend.

It takes him three minutes exactly, one to order, one to pay, one to get to the table to simply ask what is going on and the ice-queen that he likes to call her leaves the room to be replaced by the fidgety version of herself, the one that doubts. The one that eats at the rough edges of her life, wanting it to be perfect, meticulous inside her head, even biting at parts of her she has grown to love.

Doubt is one hell of a thing, he discovered far too ahead on his ice-skating career. It’s an enemy that people never let go of.

It takes her a moment to speak, before she becomes the most talkative person in the room. Yuta barely got to ask what happened when she starts talking. The tangents of the story keep him interested, listening intently as he gives his own reactions—work is doing fine, as normal as usual; her family life is alright, not too interesting and finally, there is this stone that weights on her heart, the one that has her sighing as she brings another spoonful of ice-cream to her mouth just to tell Yuta the story, and it shows him two things that he had never realized.

This person is someone who he wants to protect, just like how she had protected him—absentmindedly, but she keeps that hope within him of knowing someday he will be back on his feet to give those jumps he likes.

And that said person, said woman, the one that leaves lipstick stains on her spoon of ice cream, does not deserve to be considered cold…when all she does is protect herself.

“I don’t get it,” She pushes the empty container that was once full of ice-cream forward, making Yuta sigh as he drags his seat to be closer to her, bringing his own spoonful up to her lips and she takes it. “I’ve been friends with these people for four years, and it took me damn long to ever open up to them…and they do this to me.” The scoff that leaves her lips is weak and when she looks at him, she can barely hold his gaze. Instead, she takes one of his hands that is placed over the table, as if stopping herself from being sentimental, instead playing with the rings on Yuta’s fingers. “You’re too fucking clingy.” She spits out, venom to her tongue. “I care about them! Is that being fucking clingy?! What kind of bullshit is that—?”

His tongue is too sharp, he realizes, but she wasn’t made of paper—he knows she is strong, because being strong is being able of showing every side of you to someone, and that is exactly what she is doing with. Slowly. “I don’t think they are good friends.”

“But what if I don’t have friends after them?” The question is full of insecurity, dripping with a nostalgia that is uncertain in her. Fear of loneliness, he would call it. “I…I don’t know what to do. I told them to leave me the fuck alone, but—”

Yuta places the spoonful of ice-cream inside her mouth before she could continue speaking, licking his lips soon after. “Hear me out. I don’t know if you have noticed, but I consider you a friend. You have been with me through one of the hardest things in my life and have taken care of me, even when my coach pays you. I really hope you consider me a friend, too, alright?” His tone is so soft, but what he tells her holds weight. Surely, Yuta is not the type of person to claim friendship or to talk about how important a person is to him, but he never wants her to feel alone. Protectiveness, maybe that is what that is called. “And they don’t deserve you. From what you’ve told me, they are just shitty friends.”

“But four years—”

“Four years my ass.” The way he says it brings a smile to her face, long gone the coldness of her fingertips against his rings. “What does time mean when people didn’t value you when you were there for them? They didn’t care about the four years, they don’t care about you. That’s shitty.”

She pushes her lips up, looking into Yuta’s eyes for some type of answer. In his brown eyes, there is something magical, mischief with depth, someone who could hold the most beautiful form of happiness within them. “This is the exact same reason why I am a bitch to everyone.” She comments, making Yuta smile back at her.

“You’re not a bitch to me.”

“Yuta, I scold you all the time.”

“I like it when you scold me.”

She raises an eyebrow at that. “For real?”

He nods his head, looking down at his own cup of ice-cream before deciding to speak his mind out with sentimentalism for once. The thorn of a rose he never wants to hold, called attachment. “You are not a bitch for asking for respect. I think you are great just as you are. With all those angry moments you have with me, like, ninety-seven percent of the time.” The sound of her chuckle is classical music to him, touching his skin, penetrating the surface, reaching his cells and making a home out of him. A home. Warmth. She possesses warmth within her, and she never notices. “Life is so much simpler than friendships and living up to other’s expectations. Just be yourself, and people that are worthy of your time will arrive eventually.” Yuta’s eyelashes flutter at those words, comedic on its purpose. “Like me, who is now going to take you out for dinner because you can’t be eating ice-cream and nothing else.”

“But Yuta—”

Before she could continue complaining, Yuta picks up her purse from the seat in front of him, slotting it over his shoulder before tugging at her hand. “So, what is your favorite food?”

Yuta is in love with ice, but maybe because the friction of the blades creates warmth and leaves beautiful imprints on the surface. He loves it so much that he wants to warm her, make her feel like there is nothing wrong with being cold at times, simply because he is, too.

❄️

Realistically, everyone has that miniscule trait in their personalities that they hate—imperceptible to others, a bother to the person who has to hear their brain constantly for the rest of the day—. She is not the exception, of course, but the way she hides from him throughout their last session of therapy for Yuta’s leg really does make him worry. Just a few nights ago, she had opened up to him, given him the reason why she is so cold in a silver platter, and then she closed up, deciding that maybe Yuta is not worth having a friendship with, that he is just like everyone else and his words will only be a weapon of hatred in the future.

“There, done.” She finishes after endless minutes of silence, patting his leg softly before pulling away. Yuta is seated over the usual bench, cushions included, and he can’t help but look at her face. A shining diamond that people forget about, far too bright for those who feel threatened, perfectly shiny in his gaze. “I am going to go now. Don’t go too hard on your leg yet, don’t do any jumps, but you can start skating faster. Remember, don’t make my two months of work go to waste.”

Something overtakes him, perhaps happiness because this…this he couldn’t have done without her. This type of healing sensation that he feels going up his chest with hope that, someday, sooner than he thinks, he will be back on his championships and his normal training, makes him happy. When he stands up—rather quickly—to take her face in between his hands, cupping her cheeks and moving her face from side to side as he speaks with the biggest smile on his face. “Let’s ice-skate together as a celebration.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She adds, blinking softly as they exchange glances. To anyone who would see them—it’s too early to even have anyone else but the security guard there—this situation could surely have some kind of thick, waving tension.

“Come on, you know you liked it last time when I taught you the basics.” The cocky smile he gives her must work for something, right?

“I’m starting to believe you have a thing for me when I’m ice-skating.”

Yuta quirks an eyebrow at that, letting go of her to reach for their shoes, ones that he keeps inside his locker just in case she ever decides to ice-skate with him. “…Give me a pretty, intelligent girl and I’m sold but also one that doesn’t even understand the concept of ice-skating and I’m absolutely head over heels.” The flirty comment flows through his lips naturally, like he has been waiting to say it and it would be a lie if he said that was not the case. Endless flirting, he has tried, but she never seems faced by it. “Come on, let’s do it. This is your last day at the ice rink, and probably the last day you’ll ever want to see me.”

As always, he expects a scoff, a huff, something that shows him that she thinks he is the epitome of illegal, but instead, she grips his arm, walking by his side when he starts giving a few steps away from the changing rooms. “That’s not true, Yuta.” She says. “You said a few days ago that we’re friends, too. Like, it’s just a matter of finding time to meet with each other.”

Nothing feels better than breaking a barrier, slowly, with little caresses of warmth to destroy the coldness. Some people would mind getting their hands slightly burned with the touch of distantness, but Yuta knows better. Although very different to anyone who didn’t know them, she and Yuta had become two drops of an abandoned glass of water. Her, with her turmoil of bad friendships. Him, with the near loss of his dream. “I like that,” Yuta grins. “I will always have time for you.”

The promise is spoken just as he interlocks his fingers with hers.

Laughter fills the air when Yuta, instead of simply gliding across the ice-rink with the woman by his side, decides that it is a good idea to slow dance to the rhythm of song they haven’t listened to. They can’t hear it, but Yuta can imagine it—classical, as whimsical as her, just beautiful in tune. Her arms grip his shoulders, sometimes feeling like she loses control of her legs, but his hands rest peacefully around her waist. It’s a moment of grounding, when he finally realizes that there is warmth in her gaze, coquettish features written all over her smile, a moment of peace in between all the bundled up frustration they have felt for the past two months.

From then on, Yuta knew he would always find himself in her arms, perhaps seeking for protection or absentmindedly, protect her as well.

❄️

“When I said I wanted us to go out on a date, is this what you had in mind?”

“Yeah, totally, Yuta. I thought you were going to take me…” After taking a long gulp of his bottle of water—she had drunk hers earlier on the trip—, she continues. “Hiking. Yes. Hiking was in my mind the entire time.”

Her eyes may never contemplate the beauty he has from his line of vision. From where he is standing, watching as she walks in between bushes and rocks, showered in the glow of the sun, she doesn’t see how beautiful she is. Her ears don’t get to hear the reality of her voice, talking with him and bonding in a way that no one would ever accept. Of course, he knows what a normal date consists of—the smell of popcorn at a cinema, perhaps tight clothing for dinner, something in the lines of wanting to show the best version of one-self to the other, but Yuta is as far ahead as he can get on their friendship, deciding instead to do something that would only paint itself as a nice memory in their heads. He wishes to never forget the sight of her, adorable in the swing of her legs while reaching up to him and the smile that follows soon after, irreplaceable in wealth, is a good combination with the sight that they have in front of them. Nature in its usual calmness, a reminder of humbleness and hope, reminiscent of how small they are in comparison of the world.

Feeling small is never a bad thing, he has convinced her time and time again. To her, weakness is the weight on her chest, a pendant that people see and squint their eyes at, but she never judged his feebleness when he was going through the hardest time in his career. In this reminder, he lets himself be engulfed by the delicacy of her touch, feeling how her arms wrap around his waist to rest her chest against his back, looking at the scenery in front of them, long gone from the city, from the ice, from the walls of a hospital. For such otherwise hard-headed, strong, secretive people, there is a soft spot for them to connect. She knows what his are, he knows what hers are. In the time they have known each other, they have talked about their worst times in hopes of making the other feel better.

With the clasp of her hands over his abdomen, sprawled in a way that has his fingers hooking with hers, Yuta looks over his shoulder to look at the adoration in her eyes. For the scenery or for him, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t plan on knowing either, just letting the moment blossom with the feelings that have only grown with time. “Even though I didn’t expect the hiking date and the sweat…I really like this.” Her voice is merely above a whisper, mixing with the wind that blows on his hair. “It reminds me of you. You have always said you like stuff like this.”

“I do,” Completely different from her, he is, in what tastes consist of. “But I like to see you struggling to keep your sarcasm to yourself a bit more.”

After a chuckle, she hits his chest. “Asshole.” Though he knows she doesn’t mean it, the smile on her face still petrified in its spot. “…Is your leg doing fine? I don’t want you to overdo yourself.”

“It feels fine.” The man shrugs his shoulders before bringing her hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the tender skin. “Someone is worried about me.”

“Of course I worry about you!” She complains quickly, something that comes naturally to her. “Or do you just think I go hiking with good-looking dudes just for fun?”

“I really hope you don’t,” The sweet sound of his laughter has her joining briefly, just in time to look at him when he turns around. His arms find solace in her waist, making her bite the inside of her cheek.

“How are you so good at everything that has to do with your body?” She asks, innocence dripping from her words, but the moment Yuta wiggles his eyebrows, the depths of such a sentence are looked over to simply change its meaning. “…I mean sport-wise, stop being nasty!”

Pulling her body closer to his when she tries to pull away, Yuta looks down at her lips. Goodbye he must have said in the early morning to the lipstick that usually accompanies her, now a brief coat of dried chap-stick covering the surface of her lips. His destination, maybe, that is a better way to put it. “It comes naturally, I guess.” The smile on his lips only gets wider, softer, somehow making her hesitate the slightest to look at all the spaces of his face that she hasn’t studied. In the thirst to get to know him, study him like the books that she knows like the palm of her hand, their bodies grow impossibly closer, connecting two souls in their silent rendezvous. The first movement comes from his lips, a slap to the heart in the form of mawkishness, albeit accepted at this case, rooting to have all of her slowly but deeply at the same time. He doesn’t dance around the subject, doesn’t jump to conclusions, simply keeps it in a soft, gliding motion that makes her feel at ease. His kiss burns, leaves a trail of fire that can only be caused by him, asking for her to remember him, to have him in her dreams, to crave him even when he is there. His kiss is an ode to worship, sweet and kind in his own way, mischievous with his hands, wanting every part of her soul by the time he pulls away, the same grin he always gives her plastered on his lips. “You know what will be even worse?”

Breathless in her spot, her curiousness comes from a clouded mind. “What?”

“Going back.”

“Yuta, is that the first thing you plan to tell me after you kissed me?” She asks, voice rising in its tone as the man begins laughing. In reality, Yuta’s kisses are not his if they don’t end up with the slightest bit of teasing. “I’m going back by myself if you don’t apologize!”

“Make me.” He mumbles, pressing a peck to her lips before resting their foreheads together. “Either way you can’t go back without me. Not with how much you whined to get here.”

“Yuta—!”

❄️

Life can go perfectly well, until there is that flashback in the form of slight physical pain that reminds him nothing will ever be the same.

The darkness of failure engulfs him even when the room is perfectly light, even when he has been able to practice for his comeback at a championship for a little bit over a month, even when his life has been nothing but bright lately. In front of him is someone who deeply cares about him, who likes him for who he is—broken femur or not, figure skater or whatever else he wants to be, and the reminder of his growing insecurity makes him feel sick towards himself. At some point, he lowers his head, something that she is aware of because of the bobby pins she is pushing in his longish hair, moving the wavy strands slightly after the last one.

In there, she really does look like a queen, standing in the middle of his parted legs, practically begging him to look at his ice skating outfit for the upcoming event. Supportive, poised and intelligent she has been, pushing him to take care of his body whilst also believing in himself during practice. The problem comes with the reminder that even physics say that everything that goes up, must go down. His frightening fear of falling goes alongside with the anxiety of not knowing if his time as a figure-skater has passed, long forgotten thanks to his downfall.

Before his thoughts can merge into more of a mess, he feels someone tugging at his hair to bring his gaze up, welcomed by the sight of his girlfriend. Not too long ago, perhaps over two weeks, Yuta had decided to ask her out. It was nothing too serious yet, but the ever-lasting effect of the honeymoon phase is still clinging to him. “Look at you!” The cooing tone on her voice brings the faintest bit of happiness to his features, light in between doubts. “I really like how it fits you.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist, home for his skin whenever they are together, he tilts his head to the side. “I know I look good, but thanks.”

Her finger reaches for his bottom lip, touching it softly—almost like tapping it, really—. “Then, what’s the pout for?”

Unmasked, he feels, but unlike previous people in his life, Yuta doesn’t pull away from her, doesn’t push her away in fear of seemingly being too weak. Instead, his thumbs rub at the skin under her shirt, opting to give a playful bite to her finger that has her rolling her eyes lightly. “…I just feel so stressed. It’s been a while since I’ve figure-skated, like, professionally, you know?” His brown eyes connect with hers, seeking for that depth that always shows him hope. “I’m scared that I’m going to fall on my ass again.”

“On your leg, mind you. Your ass was fine.” She corrects him, watching as the man raises an eyebrow at her as the telltale sign of the beginning of his annoyance. Her arms wrap around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead that is supposed to heal him, or at the very least, let him know that she is there for him. “And love, you’re excellent at what you do. You’ve worked hard for this. Whatever the outcome is, just know that you went through some rough months and you still—still came back. You’re like the devil of the figure skating community.”

Sometimes, when he looks at her, he wonders if he had melted the ice around her so much that it turned into rain, showcasing all the colors within her in the form of a rainbow. Perhaps, she did the same for him—or rather, he’d confirm that she did. She showed him the simplicities of life in the form of laughter and optimism. “But what if I never go back to being the same Yuta?”

“You will. You’re almost there.”

He looks down, resting his head over her abdomen and pressing a fluttering kiss to the covered skin. “I can’t even have you sit on my leg without complaining after a while,” The tone of his voice is muffled by the fabric of her t-shirt, bringing a frown to her face that he doesn’t see, instead losing himself in the feeling of her fingers going through the free locks of his hair—away from the little half-up-do she did—. “And if I do fall once again, it’s game over for me. I am scared of trying new jumps because I’m afraid I’ll ruin it again…”

“Yuta, you’re not less of a person or a boyfriend or a figure skater because of an injury. You’ve gotten better, with my help and your own will. After basically everyone in your life scolded you, for some reason.” The woman smiles, this time around he is able to see her face, his chin prepped against her abdomen.

“I guess…”

“Come here and give me a kiss,” The quick mumble she gives him is interrupted by her own kiss, filling his soul with colors, creating patterns and pictures for him to remember, to use as energy for when he is on stage once again. “I am proud of you, okay?”

That much is enough.

❄️

“You did great.”

“…Uh-huh, sure.”

She knows him well, that much he can recall, so it is no surprise when he feels her weight pressing to his side on the couch, trying to see what he is looking up on his laptop, early in the morning with his coffee mug completely forgotten in the coffee table—precisely, getting cold, but Yuta doesn’t even remember he served himself coffee with how stressed out he is. Suspiciousness, that is exactly what she feels, but it roams around with worry, seeing that Yuta had gotten to his apartment with his girlfriend just the night before, eyes coated in angered tears after doing an average work, though that was mediocre for him. But as he normally does after talking his heart out, he decides to ignore it, pretend like he simply sees the comedy in everything.

But she sees through that, through the expanse of his eyelashes that still glisten with the reminder of Yuta’s defeat, with the way he frowns at whatever is on the screen and how he immediately freezes at the words she just told him. Pressing her head to his shoulder, she gets to see what he is reading on the screen—an article that talks about the best and the worst figure skaters of the championship he participated in. Much to his delight, he is nowhere near the worst list, but that doesn’t seem to faze him.

“See? Even the professionals think you did great.” She nudges his shoulder, watching a Yuta simply sighs, scrolling lower on the site to show a picture of the winner.

“But I still didn’t win. I had such a good streak last year.” The longing in his voice is enough to bring some kind of disappointment beneath him, carving on his skin and he hates it. He absolutely hates it. Yuta is the type of man to be confident, to know what he is worth, to think he is—at least—three steps ahead anyone who is a competition for him. Yuta just knows better than pitying himself.

So he closes the laptop, putting it on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around his girlfriend, pressing almost all his weight on top of her as he makes her lean back on the couch, the sound of her giggles filling the air. He’s careful, of course, resting his head on top of her chest to hear the rhythmic sound of her heartbeats, followed by her voice: “You’re going to have a good streak soon. I promise. I like it when you’re cuddly, but I don’t like it when you’re cuddly because you’re sad.”

Yuta lifts his gaze at that, pressing a kiss on her collarbone that has him breathing in her scent, grounding him with the reminder of how much work they had gone through to have him there, to have the two of them together. His world is not black and white, it’s painted in colors and it is up to him to create whatever canvas he wants in his future with the shades life gives him. “You know what?” He asks, sitting up on his knees and bringing his hands to the back of her calves, wrapping them around his waist. “You’re fucking right.”

“When am I not?” She asks, making Yuta smile.

“And I want to celebrate because I didn’t fall on my ass yesterday.”

“Okay, valid.” She chuckles, pressing the heel of her feet to his chest. “Do you want to go out for breakfast? It’s on me.”

There are two types of falling, the one that comes physically and he is glad he has avoided that one for a while, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from falling for her. Somehow, without knowing, the person whom he used to compare to ice had warmed him up—and he didn’t even realize.

Yuta is in love with ice, and the ice is in love with him, as it seems.

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trulymadlysydney · 5 years

Text

The Boy Next Door - V

Of all the things she could’ve ordered, it had to be a sex toy. And of all the people who could’ve been her neighbor, it just had to be coffee shop Harry.

I wont get into it until you’re finished reading, because I do have a lot to say. But I will say I’m sorry it took me so long to complete this story, and that I worked harder on this part alone than I’ve worked on any other story I’ve ever written. I love you guys, and I hope you enjoy. xx

(Part One HERE) (Part Two HERE) (Part Three HERE) (Part Four HERE)

***PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION***

The next few days feel slow and uneventful, and anxiety looms over Nova’s head at every second. She goes through the motions-- class, gym, home, repeat-- every day, but every step she takes feels wrong and strangely uncomfortable. She misses Harry-- of course she does, but it’s a weird sort of emptiness. Was she in the wrong? Was Harry?

Jessie notices something is off with her on Tuesday morning when Nova doesn’t even look up from her spot at the kitchen table. But Nova brushes it off, saying that she’s just tired and didn’t get much sleep the night before. Which is partly true.

Nova’s mother catches on that something is wrong on Wednesday afternoon, when Nova responds to her texts with very few words. Nova apologizes, telling her that she’s busy writing a paper. Also partly true.

Thursday night, Nova cries herself to sleep, annoyed at herself for being so hung up on this. Her phone lays beside her, with a half composed text message to Harry, asking if they can talk and telling him that she’s so sorry. Before that, the text had been angry, yelling at him for never responding to her or letting her explain, but she’d felt horrible about it the minute she’d typed out the final word and had promptly erased the entire thing.

It’s on Friday that Nova finds herself particularly angry about the situation. On the one hand, she knows she wasn’t wrong. Of course she wasn’t wrong. How could Harry have expected her to know? Obviously she couldn’t have read his mind. She hadn’t known he was going to confess his feelings on that stage, like a cheesy romantic comedy. But if she had, she would’ve paid better attention.

And on the other hand, she feels guilty. One thing she’s learned about Harry is that he isn’t a mushy or vulnerable person by any means. There is no denying that her talking to that guy-- Jason-- looked bad to Harry. How could he have known it was innocent? He must have been so nervous, and he’d obviously given his plan lots of thought only for her to go and not pay attention. He had a right to be upset with her.

But again, how on earth could she have known?

Nova lets out a sigh that’s a bit louder than she’d anticipated, and it’s then that she remembers she’s in class right now. Her cheeks grow hot when her professor-- Dr. Hoffman-- shoots her a look of confusion. His lecture stops only briefly, with enough of a pause to let everyone know that Nova had just let out a sigh of annoyance. But thankfully, he doesn’t acknowledge it any further. He just turns back to the board and continues writing whatever it was he was writing.

Nova sinks down a bit further into her seat. She wishes she could talk to somebody about this just to get it out of her head.

It isn’t necessarily that she can’t talk to anybody. It’s just that it’s such a strange story that she doesn’t even really know where to begin. It isn’t like she could just call up her mom about it-- there are, of course, details that she feels are essential to the story. She could talk to Jessie, sure, but Jessie’s solution would likely involve confronting Harry face to face, and Nova isn’t sure she could do that just yet.

Harry is the one she wants to talk to. More than anything else right now, she wants to sit with Harry on their park bench again, lay her head on his shoulder, and explain everything. Harry is the only one she feels would understand this situation completely, and she feels like they both have so many feelings that they need to sort through together.

She’s considered texting him. Several times actually. But where would she start? A simple “I’m sorry” wouldn’t cut it, but she’s not exactly sure she’s even ready to fully apologize. Or if she even needs to apologize at all. And Harry certainly hasn’t made any effort to clear things up on his end either.

And then her thoughts are full circle once again.

Dr. Hoffman clears his throat and turns to his desk, concluding his lecture and reminding everyone to complete their online assignments this weekend. The class buzzes back to life with soft conversations and zipping of backpacks, tuning out his words entirely. Nova glances at the clock, surprised at how quickly her class went by and realizing how little she’d paid attention. Everyone is already beginning to file out of the room, and she realizes that she’s lagging.

When everything is zipped into her backpack, she rises to her feet. Dr. Hoffman continues to eye her, and Nova feels bad, really. She knows that Dr. Hoffman expects more of her, especially because this is one of her better classes this semester and she’s one of his most vocal students. She participates frequently, always presenting questions and opposing arguments, taking detailed notes, and even staying after to ask follow up questions. But this week she’s said next to nothing and, truthfully, has hardly paid much attention at all. And though she knows it won’t be hard to get caught up by the end of this weekend, she does feel guilty and a little bit stressed at the thought of falling behind.

She shoots Dr. Hoffman a smile and an awkward thumbs up as she makes her way to the door. (Why did she give him a thumbs up? What could that possibly mean to him? “Hey man great lecture even though we both know I wasn’t listening!”)

When she exits the room, she is instantly swallowed up in a sea of student walking the long stretch that makes up Winston Hall. A good 80% of them walk with their noses buried into their phones, and the rest share rather loud stories about their plans this weekend or a test they’d just taken. It makes Nova chuckle, seeing the obvious difference between the undergrad students—especially the freshmen— and the students closer to her in age. It’s a difference that Nova had considered subtle up until this past year or so. She hadn’t realized how small freshmen looked to her until she’d had a freshman classmate in Dr. Shuff—Rick’s— class.

And then Nova nearly stops walking when it clicks in her head… she needs to talk to Rick.

On more than one occasion Nova had found herself staying after class to talk to Rick about anything they could think of. Her life, his life, it didn’t matter. Rick was a younger man, though still older than Nova. He was about 35 or 36, if she remembered correctly, and he had always given her the best advice when she’d needed it. His wife had just given birth to a baby girl who’d they’d called Penelope, and Rick was constantly showing Nova pictures and sharing stories of all of the baby’s firsts. Rick was someone who Nova considered a friend as well as a teacher, and now she walks with a bit more of a spring in her step at the thought of speaking to him again. He’ll know exactly what she’ll need to hear, and it’ll be good to catch up on his life as well.

Nova winds around the corners of the halls and follows two flights up stairs upwards. She walks the all too familiar path that had once been her absolute favorite, until she reaches the open door to Rick’s room. She hears two faint voices coming from inside, so she knows there isn’t a class going on at the moment, and Rick isn’t going to care if she pops in to his conversation. Still, she politely raps her knuckles against the door frame twice to announce her presence before entering the room.

When she turns the corner into the room, however, she stops dead in her tracks.

There’s Rick, who hasn’t changed at all since the last time she’s seen him. He’s half leaning, half sitting casually against his desk with his hands palm-down on the edge and his feet crossed at the ankles. And of course, there in front of him, is Harry standing tall and awkward, wearing a striped jumper and looking just as startled as Nova probably is.

“Nova!” Rick’s greeting is enthusiastic, and it’s clear he’s already twelve steps ahead of both Nova and Harry. He’s smirking like he knows a secret, and Nova realizes they must have been talking about her.

“Wow!” is all Nova can manage to choke out. Harry’s cheeks turn red.

“What’s goin’ on, Nova?” Rick smiles. “Come on in. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Um. Actually I--” Nova glances from Rick to Harry, and Harry’s eyes seemed glued on her. His expression hasn’t changed once other than his cheeks going redder and redder by the second. His mouth stays open, like he was mid-sentence before she came in, and he and Nova seem to realize this at the same time because he closes his mouth with an embarrassingly loud chomp.

Why is she so nervous? She had been fully confident less than two minutes ago. Of course she wanted to talk to Harry but god, not yet. She wanted to have time to think through what she was going to say. She wanted to talk to Rick, to have Rick tell her to stop being a chicken and tell Harry she’s sorry. She wanted to imagine every possible way the conversation could go, any possible response Harry could have. But now here he is, gangly and visibly uncomfortable and, of fucking course, beautiful. This was not at all her plan.

Nova turns back to Rick. “Actually I just realized that I have to do some homework. I have to leave. Um. Super hard homework. It’s due at midnight. I have to go.”

Nova turns on her heel and almost runs into the wall as she makes her escape. She lets out a nervous laugh that doesn’t sound at all like a laugh the minute she’s in the hallway. Her heart is pounding in her ears as she walks, and she feels absolutely ridiculous for all of this. Why did she react that way? What were they talking about? Why did Harry look so nervous?

And then, and she isn’t sure what on earth it is that possess her to do this, she stops walking. The inner voice inside of her gives her the advice she’d known all along. She needs to face this head on.

She thinks back briefly to the conversation she’d had with Harry about how every decision she’d ever made in her life had led her here, and she knows that this is a sign. Harry is here, now, and the situation cannot be prolonged any further.

Nova curses under her breath. She knows exactly what she needs to do right now, and the image of Harry looking cozy and soft and adorable and awkward keeps playing in her mind, motivating her to make her decision. No matter how scary this is for her, she has to do it.

So she turns back around and marches straight back into Rick’s room.

She hasn’t gone far, which means that she’s back in the room in under ten seconds. Harry and Rick have hardly moved-- both of them remain frozen watching the door. Rick is still smiling. Harry still looks mortified.

Nova takes a deep breath. “Hello. I’m back.”

Rick nods his head. “Hello.”

How on earth is she supposed to do this? She clears her throat. “Uh. Rick, this is my friend Harry.” Harry winces a little, something that is hardly even noticeable, and Rick snorts.

“Yeah we’ve met actually.”

“Oh.”

Harry won’t meet Nova’s gaze. “Yeah, class just ended.”

And now Nova feels like a total idiot. Of course class just ended. She knew Harry was taking Rick’s class because she’s been more or less tutoring him since they’d met. Harry was probably just asking Rick for extra help, since he and Nova weren’t on speaking terms. Nova blinks a few times, processing all of this. “Oh.”

Rick nods, changing his stance and crossing his arms across his chest. “How have you been, Nova? Still enjoying your classes?”

Nova can’t take her eyes off of Harry, who’s nervously fidgeting with the long sleeves of his jumper. “Uh,” she stammers. “Yeah. For sure.”

“That’s good.” Rick raises his eyebrows, like he’s expecting Nova to say something else. She clears her throat once again.

“How’s Penelope?”

“She’s great, she’s just learned how to crawl so you can imagine how stressful it’s been around the house.”

Nova offers a half hearted chuckle, and even Harry cracks a smile at the thought of a tiny baby wreaking havoc while crawling around on all fours. But other than her pitiful excuse for a laugh, there’s a thick silence in the air-- made worse by the ticking of the clock hanging above the door.

Rick lets out a nasally laugh after a few beats. “Was there something on your mind, Nova?”

Of course Rick would ask that. He knows her so well. And although she did come in here to talk to him about what was on her mind, she can’t bring herself to do it. Not now, with the source of all of her issues standing right in front of her and not even meeting her gaze.

“Uh.. well, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Mm.” Rick nods his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking from Nova to Harry. He looks back and forth, back and forth, while the all-knowing smile never once leaves his face. Finally he sighs, straightening his back up “Well, listen. I’m not going to pretend like I don’t know what’s going on here.”

Nova and Harry exchange a glance then, and the tips of Harry’s ears become visibly red. “Dr. Shuff,” he says quietly. The sentence ends with a period, because truthfully Harry has no idea what else he wants to say. Rick is absolutely right.

Rick eyes Nova. “Nova, would I be correct in assuming you came to speak to me about Mr. Styles here?”

Styles. The name plays back, over and over in Nova’s head. How had she not known his last name was Styles? It’s so perfect, so fitting for him. Harry Styles. Nova feels herself swooning just the tiniest bit, but the sinking feeling in her stomach keeps her anchored. She picks nervously at her fingernail.

“Uh. Yeah. You would be correct.”

“And Mr. Styles,” Rick angles himself so he’s facing Harry now. “Your story about your friend-- the musician, right?-- messing up his chances with a girl in the crowd.” Harry tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as Rick continues. “Your friend wouldn’t happen to be in this room right now, would he?”

“How could you tell?” Harry doesn’t show any sign of amusement or embarrassment. He just stares blankly at the whiteboard beyond Dr. Shuff’s shoulder. He never had been good at lying.

“Believe it or not,” Rick says slowly. “I was at your show that night.”

“What?!” The question comes from both Harry and Nova at the same time, and it makes Rick laugh.

“Don’t look so shocked. I may be a professor, but I’m not an old man. I like to have fun too, you know.”

“Rick--”

Rick cuts Nova off, offering Harry a warm smile. “Your band is rad, Harry.”

Harry smiles, the first genuine smile he’s given during this entire conversation. “Thank you!”

“I mean it. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. You’ve got some serious talent.” Rick turns back so that he’s angled towards the both of them. “But. Something happened that night, didn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Harry speaks quietly, and Nova nearly rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Harry.” It’s the first thing she’s said directly to him, aside from “oh” and she doesn’t like how bitter it sounds.

Harry shoots Nova a look that is a mixture of hurt and annoyed, but Rick holds up his hand to stop anything from blowing up unnecessarily. “Nova. Something happened that night that you both clearly need to talk about, and I can’t be the middleman forever here. You both came to me, so I’ll be happy to help in any way that I can. But it’s obvious that this is something that you both really care about. It’s something that needs to be discussed, and addressed calmly, by both of you.”

Once again, the silence is back-- thicker this time. Harry runs his tongue over his teeth, looking anywhere but at Nova. A million thoughts run wild in Nova’s brain. She’s angry that Harry seems angry. She’s hurt. But at the same time, she wants to run over to him, throw her arms around his neck and kiss him all over. She chooses, instead, to bite at the inside of her cheek.

To everyone’s surprise, Harry is the first to speak. “Nova, I’m sorry.” He still refuses to look at her, but his admission makes her soften the tiniest bit. “I wasn’t thinking. You could never have known.”

Nova doesn’t know what to do, and she looks at Rick for guidance. He raises his eyebrows at her, as if to say “Well? Your move!” It makes her nervous. Why won’t Harry look at her?

“Harry… “ She blinks a few times, as if that’s going to clear her mind. She doesn’t know what to say, and she stumbles over her words. “I don’t…. I mean… You’re right. I couldn’t have. At all. I didn’t… I had no idea. You got so mad… I wasn’t….” She trails off in a sigh. Realizing how tense she is, she lets her shoulders drop. The answer wasn’t good enough, not at all, but processing this is hard for her.

Harry laughs, almost bitterly, and shrugs his shoulders. “Deserve that kind of response I guess.”

“No, what I mean is…” What does she mean? Rick’s gaze is burning a hole into Nova’s face, and Nova wishes that it was Harry’s instead. She groans and tries again. “What I’m trying to say is--”

Nova is cut off by a voice as two young boys enter the classroom. One carries a skateboard under his arm, and the other is talking loudly about some girl he’d “fucked”-- as he so graciously put it-- last night. The two are visibly younger than Harry and Nova, and they all stare at each other for a brief moment when the boys realize they aren’t alone in the room.

Harry clears his throat, as the entire situation becomes even more painfully awkward than before. Rick smiles, relaxing his stance completely once again. “Nova, Harry, Intro to Physics is about to start. Would you like to join us?”

Nova didn’t even know that Rick taught undergrad classes. She glances from the boys, to Rick, and back to Harry-- who is now staring at her dumbfounded.

“Uh, sorry,” is the only thing Nova can offer. “We’ll uh… we’ll come back another time.”

More students begin filing in the room and Nova turns on her heel to leave. Of course this would happen. She hears Harry begin walking as well, thinking maybe he’s going to follow her and try and continue the conversation.

“Guys?”

Both Harry and Nova turn to see Rick still looking at them. He offers them a reassuring smile. “Remember what I said, please. Talk to each other. Be kind.”

Neither Harry or Nova moves at first, hoping that he’ll offer them a bit more advice. Nova is about to say something else, but Rick has already turned to greet another student, who has a question about homework.

Harry is the first to resume walking, heading straight for the door and offering Nova a thin-lipped smile. He brushes past her then, and she gets a whiff of his scent. His smell-- the smell she’d come to love, and miss more than anything-- takes her by surprise, and for a split second any and all anger she’d felt melts away.

Immediately she turns to exit the room, nearly bumping into another student. It takes her a few moments of scanning before she sees which way Harry’s gone. “Harry!” she calls.

He doesn’t turn around.

Nova’s heart is pounding as she watches him shove earbuds into his ears. Half of her wants to stay here, watch him disappear into the crowd, and then head home so she can angry cry.

But hell. She’s already come this far.

“Hey!” Nova calls, louder this time. She doesn’t even have time to register what she’s doing, her feet are carrying her so quickly down the hall. Before she knows it, she’s close enough to him that she can smell him, and she reaches up to touch his shoulder.

Harry knows it’s her before he even turns around, as if he was expecting this. He yanks his earbuds out of his ear and stops walking. “At least let me get outside first.”

“Why won’t you talk to me?!” He voice comes out exasperated as she walks around to stand in front of him. “Harry, you can’t keep avoiding this!”

Harry rolls his eyes, looking over the top of Nova’s head at the crowded hallway, considering what he’s about to say. “Well we’re not going to do this here, are we?” It isn’t a question.

“Then where?” Nova presses. “When?”

Harry doesn’t have an answer for her. He knows he wants to talk to her about this-- so, so badly, but he also can’t very well express himself in the way he wants to with all these people around. He lets out a long sigh. “Follow me.”

He doesn’t offer her any explanation, he just begins walking. Nova has no choice to follow behind him, like a puppy dog with its tail between its legs. Harry takes a few turns, and the walk takes longer than Nova is expecting. She almost thinks that Harry is trying to ditch her, and she’s about to say something, when he stops in front of a door labelled “Tutoring.”

Nova has seen these rooms before but she’s never been behind one. She knows there are several designated tutoring rooms located in practically every building, but the only open for anyone with a key card-- meaning designated tutors who’ve made appointments with their tutee.

To Nova’s surprise, Harry retrieves his wallet from his back pocket and, after a few moments of searching, presents one of the aforementioned key cards. He holds it up to the magnetic lock and, presto, the door opens.

Harry pushes the door open without any further explanation, only realizing how strange this looks when Nova doesn’t follow him in. He shrugs. “I used to tutor kids in music theory last year. Surprisingly this thing still works. Unlocks any tutoring room in any building.”

Nova still doesn’t say anything, so Harry chuckles, nodding his head over his shoulder. “Coming?”

For a split second, it feels like everything between them is fine. Nova shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and makes her way into the room.

When Harry closes the door behind her, Nova is almost shocked at how quiet everything gets. The room is so small, with a somewhat large table in the center of it surrounded by wheeled chairs. There’s an old TV in the corner of the room-- the kind that Nova’s high school teachers would play educational films on during half days-- and a whiteboard along the farthest wall. It looks almost like a miniature classroom, complete with obnoxious fluorescent lighting that somehow adds to Nova’s anxiety, and there are no windows to be found. They are completely alone.

Harry drops his backpack onto the floor and makes his way over to the table, sitting on the edge of it the way Rick had been sitting against his desk. He shrugs, letting his hands slap against his thighs. “So talk.”

Nova is taken aback by his abruptness and seemingly nonchalant attitude. She furrows her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve obviously got something to say so let’s hear it. Are you going to tell me I’m wrong again?”

It’s amazing how quickly Nova’s attitude goes from sad, to excited, to angry. She scoffs. “What is wrong with you? You really mean to tell me you have nothing more to talk about? You think this is on me?”

“Of course I don’t.” Harry is remaining surprisingly cool on the outside, though inside he can feel his stomach twisting up in knots. “You’re the one who followed me though.”

“So, once again, you were just going to ignore this?”

“Once again?” Now Harry’s voice raises a bit. “What on earth does that mean?”

“You’re exhausting, Harry. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Harry offers her his smug grin that, under any other circumstances, she would find sexy. Now she just wants to slap it right off of his face, especially when all he says is, “We’re talking right now, are we not?”

Nova sighs through her teeth, and her voice is just on the brink of yelling. “You can’t keep running from this you know!”

“Oh, I know I can’t!” He says, rising to his feet and moving towards her. Everything about him is big, and he looms over Nova in a way that she’s never noticed. “I’m not trying to! You’re the one that doesn’t want to talk. You don’t want to hear it, and you’ve made it very clear.”

“Excuse me?!” Nova blinks a few times, and her hand subconsciously finds it way to her hip. “What the hell does that mean?”

Harry scoffs. “You’re so good at always getting your way, aren’t you? You want me to beg, and I’m not going to do it. I tried to apologize, Nova. Just now. In front of Dr. Shuff. And you shut me down.”

Nova rolls her eyes. “Oh my GOD. You are so fucking dramatic, you know that? I didn’t ‘shut you down’ in there. I’m allowed to be upset, Harry, I just need time to think through my words. I have to think about how to tell you that I’m sorry. Okay? God, I’m so fucking sorry, but you know what? I was the one who apologized! The very night it happened! But what did you do?”

“Nova--”

“You ignored it, Harry! So don’t tell me that I’m the one who ‘doesn’t want to hear it.’”

“How come you’re the only one who gets ‘time’ to think, then? You expected a response right then and there? I was allowed to be hurt, too, you know.”

“You had this whole week to think through your response, Harry. You had the entire week to forgive me, and you didn’t!”

“And where were you?” Harry’s voice raises now, matching Nova’s in volume. “Hm? Where were you this whole bloody week? Because I didn’t hear from you either.”

“You ignored me Harry!” Nova reaches up to run her fingers through her hair. “Are you kidding me?! What the fuck else was I supposed to take from that?”

She’s right. Harry knows she’s right, but dammit, so is he. He has absolutely no idea how to respond, so instead he just lets his eyes close. He breathes softly, allowing his anger to subside just a bit. “Nova,” he says quietly after a beat, “We’re just going to keep going in circles here. This is helping no one.”

Nova’s cheeks grow hot. She notices the shift in Harry’s temperament, and it drives her crazy, but she knows he’s right. Talking in circles is clearly solving nothing. “So how do we stop then?” She’s still upset, but her voice has lowered too. Now she just wants to cry. “What do we do, Harry? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Harry scans her face, trying to come up with an answer to her request. When he falls short, he sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

Nova swallows, wanting nothing more than to reach up and stroke at his cheek. She refrains, of course, but her fingers curl and uncurl, just itching to touch him. “Harry--”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. His tone isn’t angry, its sad. “Please. I don’t know what to do, Nova. I miss you.”

The pressure behind Nova’s eyes builds just a bit, and she tries to blink it away, knowing that if they continue this way she’ll be crying in no time. “I miss you, too. How do we fix this?”

Harry reaches forward to take her hands in his, and Nova swallows at the contact. It’s so simple, so soft. She repeats herself. “How do we fix this, Harry?”

“I feel like a fucking idiot,” he says. It isn’t an answer to her question, it more so feels like he’s working everything out in his own mind.

“You’re not an idiot,” she says, blinking up at him. “You aren’t at all.”

“I am though. This whole thing is so dramatic, and there’s no good reason for it. I turned it into this whole....thing. I overreacted.”

“You didn’t--”

“You couldn’t have known.”

Nova’s heart sinks, and she gives his hand a squeeze. “You couldn’t have either. You know that.”

“I think…” Harry sighs. “I don’t know what I think. I care about you a lot. I fucked up. I overreacted and I know that. But when I didn’t hear from you--”

“Stop.” Nova lets go of one of his hands, finally giving in to her urge to cup his cheek. She forces him to look at her. “Stop it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nova’s face feels hot, and when she blinks she’s not surprised to feel a tear slip down her cheek. “I’m sorry, too,” she says.

Harry leans his head down the slightest bit, until he’s close enough that Nova can feel his breath. He hesitates a brief moment, both of them just drinking in the feeling of being close to one another again, before fastening their lips together softly. It starts out as just a peck, almost a question, asking the other if they’re alright with this. But when neither makes an effort to pull away when their lips come apart, they have their answer.

Harry’s hand finds its way to the back of Nova’s neck while his other hand slides up her waist. It feels so good, so absolutely perfect to be here with her like this again. He’s thought about this every night, falling asleep to the thought of kissing her, tasting her in the most innocent way. Intimacy in the softest form.

He sighs into the kiss, hardly removing his lips from hers. “You smell good.”

Nova hums into his mouth, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. She traces his bottom lip with her tongue, and he gladly complies, opening his mouth for her and pulling her even impossibly closer.

It’s beautiful, but it’s sad. Tension fizzles in every corner of the room, and they know that nothing has been resolved just yet but god, do they need this right now.

Both of Harry’s hands find their way to Nova’s hips, and he guides her gently backwards until her backside presses against the table. She shifts a bit until she’s sitting on it, with Harry resting between her legs.

“I wish you were mine, Nova.”

His words catch her off guard. “I am,” she says, pulling away. She doesn’t remove her hand from his face. “I have been for a while.”

Harry says nothing back, he only continues to kiss her. His hands travel along her spine and into her hair, and his lips trail along her neck softly. Nova sighs when he hits a particularly sweet spot, and he loves the sound so much that he sinks his teeth into the spot just to hear it again. She reaches for one of his hands and squeezes it. “I’m yours, Harry,” she says softly.

He sighs, removing his lips from her neck and resting his forehead in the spot where neck meets shoulder. “You’re an angel, baby. You aren’t mine.”

“What does that mean?” Nova says sadly, lifting his head with both hands and looking at him. “Of course I am. Stop saying that.”

“I never asked,” he says. “I never made you mine. I did it all wrong.”

“It isn’t too late to fix it,” Nova replies, offering a soft smile that makes him melt. “We can forget this.”

“How?” he asks. “If we’re going to keep fighting--”

“We both said we’re sorry!” Nova uses her thumb to stroke at Harry’s cheek. “I miss you. I want to be yours.”

Harry’s eyes dart from Nova’s eyes to her lips and back again, and he presses one more soft kiss to her lips before standing fully upright. He smiles at her, letting his nails trail softly up and down her parted thighs when he speaks. “I miss you so much.”

“So let’s stop then.” She leans forward, kissing him once more. “Let’s move on.”

“I want to,” he says. “Darling, I want to so badly.”

“So let’s do it.”

“We just need time.” He offers her a sad smile. “Just a little longer.”

Nova’s heart sinks at his words, and she lets out an exasperated groan. “Harry what are you talking about?! We’re fine now! We forgive each other!”

“I just….” Harry sighs. “I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, I think. I need time to sort through everything.”

“Tell me what you want me to do!” Nova’s words echo what she’d said when they’d first entered this room, but now she feels more vulnerable about them. “I’ll do it, just tell me. Please.”

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I want you do to. I don’t know what I want to do. I just want to go back to a week ago. I want to go back and do this the right way.”

“We can do it the right way now!” Nova says, whining when Harry pulls away. “Stop doing this to yourself!”

“Can I tell you something?” Harry says, now standing just out of Nova’s reach.

“Of course,” she says. “Anything.”

“I know that we haven’t known each other a very long time when you really think about it. And I know that all of this has been turned into something so much more dramatic than it needs to be. But you know what?” Nova doesn’t say anything, wanting to give him time to work through his thoughts. He nods his head, as if coming to a realization. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else in my life, Novocaine.”

Nova’s heart melts at the nickname that she’d grown so fond of, and she feels her eyes prickling with tears. “I feel the same way about you, Harry.”

“Which is why,” he says slowly, “we need time. We need to do this right.”

Nova sighs. “Harry you’re driving me crazy.”

“I know, sweet girl,” Harry says. “I’m just overwhelmed, I think. Like, I feel stupid. I didn’t expect to see you today, you know? I just… I think I just need a moment to process all of this.”

Nova snorts. “We’ve had a week, Harry.” But she gets it. She knows he’s right, and truthfully, she needs to do a bit of processing herself.

“Look. I forgive you, you forgive me. We’re okay on that front. But we can’t… do this right now. Not right here.”

“When then?”

Harry smiles, ignoring her question and walking over to his previously discarded backpack. He picks it up, slinging it over his right shoulder. “I do have classes today, you know. Classes where attendance is crucial to my grade. Quit encouraging me to be a bad student.”

Nova rolls her eyes, but of course she’s happy to be back to their usual banter. “Fine. Go to class then. Just text me later.”

Harry raises a hand, playfully saluting her and making her giggle. “Yes ma’am.”

When the door closes with an echoing thud, Nova can’t help but stare a while longer. She reaches up to touch at her lips, frowning when she realizes that they’ve been chapped this entire time. She can still taste Harry on her tongue, and his smell still lingers in the air around her. His words keep playing over and over in her head-- he’s never felt this way about anyone else, Nova isn’t sure if she should be scared or excited by that.

She smiles to herself, fishing around in her purse until she finds her phone. Pulling it out, she scrolls straight to her messages with Harry. It feels good to be able to do this again, to text him without having to worry about it. Quickly she types out a message and hits the little blue arrow without thinking.

“Is it later yet?” ----- Nova spends the rest of the day in a daze, replaying Harry’s words over and over again in her head. He’s never felt this way about anyone else in his life, and god knows Nova feels the same about him. But why won’t he talk to her? Why won’t he fix this now?

Jessie pushes the issue again for the first time since Tuesday, and Nova considers telling her everything. She knows Jessie won’t judge, and she thinks that maybe Jessie will have an answer for her as to what the hell Harry meant about needing time. But just as Nova’s about to bring it up, Jessie groans at a text on her phone.

“God, Jade is driving me fucking crazy.” She tosses her phone onto the couch next to her.

“Oh yeah?” Nova pulls her legs up to her chest, and grins at Jessie from where she sits at the dining room. “What’s going on?”

Jessie launches into this entire story about her “best friend” Jade, and Nova tries to listen-- really-- except everything is making her think of Harry. As much as she hates feeling like a teenager with her very first crush, she can’t help it. The thought of Harry’s lips against her neck makes her heart flutter, and the memory of his warmth between her thighs makes her weak. She just wants to hear from him again, even if he thinks they need time.

Thankfully Jessie doesn’t pick up on how distracted Nova seems to be when she gives her advice. Nova has heard Jessie talk about Jade like this a million times, so she pulls from her memory bank to offer words of encouragement and agreements that “yeah, Jade sucks.” When Nova’s phone buzzes mid-sentence, she can’t even help but to trail off and glance down at her phone.

Of course it isn’t Harry.

Jessie snorts, snapping Nova’s attention back to the present situation.

“What?” Nova blurts.

“Is it that one British dude from the party?” Jessie asks, nonchalantly tossing her hair over her shoulder and picking up her previously discarded phone. “The guy who walked us home?”

Nova bites at her bottom lip. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Jessie smirks but she doesn’t look up from her phone. “Did he text you?”

Nova sighs. “No. He didn’t.”

“You wanted him to though, huh?”

“I mean—“

“Kid, I may have been drunk that night but I’m not stupid. There’s definitely something going on, is there not?”

“Well….” Nova trails off once again. “There is. Or I guess there was. There might be. I don’t know.”

Jessie sits up a bit. “Nova! What the hell!”

“What?!”

“You’ve been letting me go on and on for fucking ever now about all my problems. I didn’t know you had yourself a man!”

“I don’t!”

“You sure?”

Nova groans and rests her head in the palm of her hand. “I don’t know, Jess. It’s complicated.”

“Okay so let’s unpack this.” Jessie drops her phone into her lap, fully ready to go into a therapy session. “You had a man.”

“I guess so.”

“What happened?”

Nova pauses only briefly before unloading the situation on Jessie. She, of course, spares quite a few details but the gist is still there. Jessie listens diligently, only interjecting a few times but generally being completely understanding. Nova doesn’t realize how long she’s been talking, or how much she’s saying, until she finds herself a bit winded when she reaches her ending point.

Jessie remains ever patient, smiling at Nova and waiting to be absolutely sure that she’s finished her story. When she doesn’t continue, Jessie nods-- letting out a breath she’s been holding this entire time. “Well,” she says slowly. “That was a lot.”

“Was it?” Nova frowns.

“You wanna know what I think, kid? Honestly?” She doesn’t give Nova any time to answer. “I think you’re both being disgustingly dramatic for no reason.”

Nova snorts, shocked at Jessie’s bluntness. “What?!”

“So you messed up because you weren’t paying attention to his one brave little confession of love, and now suddenly you’re both crying and avoiding each other? Are you guys in high school?” Jessie puts on a terrible British accent in an overly deep voice, mimicking Harry. ‘I ‘fink I jus’ need sum mo’ time to wallow in my own self pity.’ Give me a break.”

“Harry doesn’t sound like that.”

“And you!” Jessie laughs. “You’re gonna beat yourself up over this? Still? A week later? Come ON.”

Nova is laughing now, too. Jessie may be blunt, but her words are appreciated and they definitely help Nova out of her own head. “Alright, so what do you suggest I do then?”

Jessie glances at the time on her phone before swinging her legs over the side of the couch and rising to her feet. “Well,” she says. “I’m about to leave for work. Invite his ass over.”

“I don’t know if he wants to talk about this anymore.”

“Oh my god,” Jessie says, rolling her eyes and slipping her phone into the waistband of her yoga pants. She begins heading into her room. “You’re not gonna get anything solved if you keep that attitude. There’s no use dwelling on this anymore. It’s been a week. Either it’s meant to work out, or its not.”

Once again, Jessie doesn’t wait for Nova to respond. She disappears into her bedroom, scrolling through her phone.

In a weird way, Jessie’s words give Nova a surge of confidence. Of course she wants to give Harry his time, but Jessie is right-- the whole situation feels entirely too dramatic for Nova’s liking. While she doesn’t expect things to go right back to how they were, she doesn’t want to dwell on this any longer. She misses him, and after their short interaction today Nova finds herself craving more.

With a smile, Nova pulls out her phone. As soon as she unlocks it, it opens straight up to a brief conversation she’d had with Harry earlier today.

-Is it later yet?

-Cheeky. -Missed you though. More than you know.

-We’re going to be just fine, Harry.

He hadn’t replied because he’d been in class, and Nova almost feels embarrassed to be sending him a double text. But she tries to embody the spirit of Jessie and keep her confidence levels up. So she clears her throat, as if she were about to verbally speak with someone, and shoots him a text.

-What are you doing right now? Come over!

Nova hits send without even thinking, but instantly feels the panic begin to rise up in her stomach. She reads the text aloud, quietly to herself, and then immediately shoots him another one.

-We don’t have to talk anymore about what happened -We can just hang out if you want -Like, watch a movie and stuff -But then again, if you want to talk about it, I’m good with that as well

With each text she sends, Nova can feel her confidence draining. This is why she hadn’t wanted to tell Jessie in the first place. Although she knew the girl talk would do her some good, she wasn’t Jessie. Anxiety bubbles up in Nova’s stomach, reaching her chest and pooling at the base of her neck. Her throat feels completely dry, and she rises to her feet without hesitation. Dropping her phone face down onto the table, she makes her way into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

It will be fine, won’t it? Yes, things technically haven’t fully been resolved just yet, but at least it’s still the same Harry. Harry knows her. Double and even triple texts had never really been a problem for either of them thus far. Surely Harry won’t mind.

With a water bottle in hand, Nova gulps down a few sips and makes her way back to her spot at the dining table. Her hand shakes slightly as she reaches for her phone, and she almost fully closes her eyes when she turns it so that the screen faces her.

He’s responded, and Nova doesn’t know whether to be nervous or happy. As if on autopilot mode, she unlocks her phone to read his message.

-I wish I could. I’m out right now running errands.

Nova bites her lip, trying her hardest to not feel left down. Her fingers seem to have a mind of their own, and although her actual mind is begging her not to, she types and sends out another message to him.

-That’s fine. Maybe later? -If it would make you feel better, we could hang out somewhere public. -I was thinking of getting a coffee in a bit. That might be fun!

She groans, using one hand to rub at her face. Stop fucking texting him Nova.

-What time later?

His response is quick, leaving Nova hardly any time to think through her response. She glances in the upper left corner of her phone to read the time- 1:51.

-Uhhh… maybe 3? Does that work?

Why is she doing this? After Harry clearly said he needed space and time, here she is making an absolute buffoon of herself. If he says no, she won’t blame him. Her phone pings with another message.

-Can’t. I have band practice at three. :(

Then again, she might blame him a little.

Nova sighs, setting her phone down, then picking it back up. Her mind goes back and forth between whether she should text him or just leave it there. As if to add fuel to the flames of her gut-wrenching embarrassment, he texts again.

-Sorry, love.

She swallows then, willing herself not to cry. It isn’t that he doesn't want her, and she knows that. He’d said so earlier, he wished she was his. But here she is, practically giving herself to him, and for what? For him to be busy. For him to need more time; a request that, for some reason, she struggles to honor.

Blinking back a few small tears she replies.

-It’s okay! I’m still probably going to go anyway so just let me know if you change your mind -You can just meet me in the hallway if you do

Why did she say that?

-Or even in like, the actual coffee shop. Cause I’ll be there one way or another at 3

It’s useless. Nova knows it’s useless but she can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself. She sees the gray dots that indicate Harry’s typing and immediately powers off her phone-- knowing that it’s the only way to end the conversation with a bit of dignity.

She lets out a sigh and reaches up to wipe at her slightly damp eye as Jessie clomps back into the room in her heels. It hasn’t taken her long at all to get ready for work, and that’s one thing that Nova has always envied about her. She still looks gorgeous, of course, and she shoots Nova a blinding smile.

“Well?”

Nova plays dumb. “Well what?”

“Is he coming?”

“Uh.” Jessie is, of course, coming from a good place, and Nova knows that. Still, she isn’t sure she’s ready to get into this any further with Jessie. Like Harry, Nova needs time to process. So she offers Jessie a smile. “I think so. We’re probably gonna meet up in a bit.”

“Ugh, thank GOD.” Jessie makes her way over to where Nova sits, bending down to wrap Nova up in a hug. “See? Everything will be fine.” She combs her fingers through Nova’s hair, sending a chill up the younger girls spine, before straightening up and heading towards the door. “Don’t wait up,” She calls over her shoulder, grabbing her keys off the hook by the door. “Jade and I are going out for drinks tonight after work.”

“Jade?” Nova questions, turning in her seat. “I thought you hated her now.”

Jessie scoffs, opening up the front door and slipping through it as she speaks. “She’s annoying the fuck out of me but I don’t hate her. Besides, a drink is a drink!” She raises her fingers to her lips and blows Nova a kiss, wiggling her fingers at the end. “Bye kid! Good luck!”

When the door closes, Nova is left alone with the silence that follows. It’s so loud it makes her uncomfortable, and she lets out a long and overly dramatic sigh.

She eyes her bedroom door then, as a thought creeps into her head.

At least she knows one sure fire way to relieve her own stress.

-------------- It’s 2:46pm, and Nova is coming down from the high of not one, not two, but three of the most incredible orgasms of her life.

She’d always heard that orgasms were an amazing stress reliever (something about dopamine or serotonin, if Nova remembers correctly) but truth be told she’d never used her vibrator while stressed. Stress tends to be a common theme in Nova’s life, however, and now that she knows just how good a stress orgasm can be, she foresees lot of time alone in her bedroom in the near future. The pleasure--however fleeting-- is enough to heighten her mood just a bit. Every source of her issues has been forgotten.

Well, almost every source.

Nova had allowed herself to think of Harry while playing with herself, although it did take a bit of work to make her brain shut up about all the texts she’d sent to him earlier. She had been drowning in embarrassment up until the vibe had hit a particularly sensitive spot, causing her mouth to fall open and a rather loud “oh” to fall from her lips. It was the first time in a while that Nova hadn’t worried about her volume levels for any reason other than letting Harry hear her. Who cared if he had anyway? And besides, she hadn’t heard him come home since they’d texted. (Not that she’d been paying attention of course.)

She glances at the analog clock on her bedside table. (The clock that Jessie always made fun of Nova for still having.) She has about 10 minutes to get ready if she wants to be at the coffee shop around 3.

Nova knows Harry isn’t coming. He’d flat out told her he wasn’t. She feels like an idiot for holding on to a bit of hope that he’ll be waiting there for her, but still. (Besides, even if he doesn’t show up, a coffee sounds great.) She rolls lazily off of her bed and begins going through the motions of getting cleaned up.

Her phone remains forgotten and blank on the dinner table, and Nova eyes it suspiciously as she makes her way towards the front door. For a moment she considers taking it with her but ultimately she decides against it. Should Harry change his mind, he deserves to have a hard time getting ahold of her.

She gives the apartment a once over, making sure she hasn’t left anything plugged in or any lights turned on. When she’s certain that everything is in its place, she grabs her keys and opens the door. She hardly looks up as she exits, nearly bumping into the wall of a person in front of her.

She looks up, ready to give this person a piece of her mind for being so bloody close to her front door, when she stops dead in her tracks.

There’s Harry, now wearing a black hoodie over the jumper he’d adorned earlier. His hair is a mess, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, and he raises his eyebrows almost challengingly before Nova can even get a word out.

“Harry,” Nova breathes, her mouth hanging open in shock. “What… I--”

“Don’t look so surprised, Novocaine.”

Nova shakes her head. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Yeah. Well.” Harry smirks. “You always have been good at getting your way.”

Immediately Nova nearly collapses into his arms. It’s like a scene right out of a Rom-Com, and probably entirely too dramatic given the circumstances, but Nova doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around his middle and presses her face into his chest as close as she can get it. Harry’s arms grab at her, as if relieved, and he gently guides them backwards into her apartment.

It’s an awkward stumble and Harry accidentally steps on Nova’s toes once or twice but soon they’re standing in her living room. With one hand still around her, Harry reaches behind him to close her front door.

Then they waste no time. They continue to stumble around, arms wrapping around one another, lips kissing everywhere they can possibly reach. Their teeth even clink together a few times just from how sloppy and haphazard their kisses are. They speak between kisses, breaking up their sentences in awkward places.

“I’m sorry,” Nova breathes. “I’m so so sorry.”

Harry kisses all over her face. “I’m so… sorry. You have nothing…. To be… sorry for.”

“I do. I really… do.”

“But you don’t.” Harry reaches up to cup Nova’s face in his hands. He holds her gaze, and the misty look of her eyes melts his heart. “You absolutely don’t Nova, do you hear me? I’m the asshole. I’m an overly dramatic prick.”

She frantically grabs at his face and pulls him down to fasten their lips together once more. “You’re not--” kiss “--an asshole.” She kisses the corner of his lips. “I am.”

“You’re not.” Harry’s hands find their way under Nova’s bum and she jumps a little, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Please don’t say that.” He kisses her cheeks rapidly, moving back and forth. “You’re not, you’re not, you’re not.”

It’s so desperate and messy and a little bit awkward as Harry stumbles through Nova’s apartment into what he assumes is her bedroom. All the while they’re continuing to breathe out apologies and half coherent explanations.

“I wasn’t thinking. I should have--”

“I shouldn’t have expected you to--”

“We both could have--”

“How could you have known?”

“I wish I hadn’t--”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know, I’m sorry, too.”

When they finally get into Nova’s room, Harry drops her a bit ungracefully onto the bed. He wastes no time in plopping down next to her and continuing to kiss her. They’re both smiling into the kiss, maneuvering their way around the bed so that they’re comfortable and have the easiest access to each other’s lips.

“Harry I--”

He cuts her off with another kiss. “Please. Please don’t apologize, baby, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

“When I danced with him, I--”

“I know, sweet girl.”

“We talked about you the entire time.”

“Don’t need to explain yourself to me.” But then, Harry does pull away from the kiss, and his familiar smirk teases at the corner of his lips as her words register in his mind. “The entire time, huh?”

Nova giggles. “Yes. We really did. I couldn’t shut up about how hot you are.”

Harry chuckles and pretends to flip long hair over his shoulder. “Well, who can blame you. I mean with my killer looks and my horrible attitude when you aren’t devoting your full attention to me? Come on now.”

Nova’s giggles turn into a full blown laugh and she lightly pushes Harry. “Harry, oh my god. Don’t. Don’t do that.”

Harry’s beaming now, clearly happy to have her smiling again. “Do what?”

“Apologize. Talk bad about yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

“I did though.” His face gets a bit more serious, despite his smile never leaving. “I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“Harry.” Nova reaches up to stroke at his face, and Harry takes her wrist in his hand. He slowly turns his head to kiss her palm.

“I shouldn’t have planned it that way,” he continues. “I should have told you so long ago about how I felt. Instead of making an idiot of myself.”

Nova’s eyes get misty once again. “You didn’t make an idiot of yourself.”

“Well I didn’t exactly act like a winner that night, did I?” Harry chuckles, kissing Nova’s knuckles before dropping their hands to rest in his lap. “I should have never assumed anything. I should have never acted… like that… when my plan didn’t go smoothly. How could you have known? You couldn’t have. I blew it, and you don’t deserve that, Nova. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Nova says, for what must be the 80th time in the last five minutes. “I should have been paying attention. I should have thought about how it must have looked. I--”

Harry shakes his head. “Stop it.”

“Listen, if you get to apologize then so do I.” Harry laughs, which only causes Nova to furrow her eyebrows. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright! Go for it.”

Nova clears her throat for dramatic effect, before continuing. “You’re right, I couldn’t have known. But I still could have-- should have paid much, much better attention than I did. Jason meant nothing to me. He was into Clare, actually. He wanted me to hook him up with her after the show.”

Harry snorts. “No shit. Clare?”

“Yup, and he was super annoying about it the whole time, too!”

“Should’ve figured that, I guess. The man was practically drooling over her at our gig a few weeks ago. Makes sense.”

Nova giggles, giving Harry’s hand a squeeze. “I could’ve been a little more clear. I didn’t need to dance with him. I didn’t think about how it would look. So. I am sorry.”

Harry eyes Nova for a few minutes, a cheeky little smirk spreading across his face. “What was that?”

“I… didn’t need to dance with him?”

“No, no. After that.”

“I’m… sorry?”

Nova almost doesn’t have time to get the words out before Harry’s kissing her, hard and sloppy and quick. She giggles in surprise, and when Harry pulls away he’s beaming. “One more time? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I’m--”

Harry does it again, even quicker this time before Nova can even get her apology out at all. She’s melting into him, giggling into his mouth.

“Once more? Still didn’t really get it.”

“I’m--”

And once again, they kiss.

Their game goes on for a few more moments, their giggles and mumbled words filling the room, until finally, Harry doesn’t pull away. Instead his hand snakes behind her neck, his thumb resting on her cheek. They’re both smiling wide, and Nova relaxes a bit until she’s laying back against the pillows of her bed. Harry, of course, follows suit, laying down beside her and propping his knee between her legs.

They stay like that for a bit longer, kissing and smiling, with Harry’s hands trailing lazily from her hair to her neck and up and down her arms. When he pulls away, it’s only slightly, his face still only a few inches away from hers. “Missed you so fucking much.”

Nova beams, leaning in to kiss just under his neck. “Missed you.”

He reaches up to run his knuckle along her cheek, the spot just before her ear, and she leans affectionately into his touch. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” He says slowly, eyeing her as if she’s the most interesting thing in the world.

His fingertips are feather soft, and Nova giggles as she rolls over onto her tummy. “You may have.” She turns her head to kiss the tip of Harry’s thumb before taking it softly between her teeth. “But say it again.”

“You’re beautiful.” He makes no effort to free his thumb from her teeth, and his eyes light up a bit when her lips enclose around it. Her tongue grazes lightly against the tip, and he lets out a breath. “God, baby.”

Nova pulls off of his thumb with a soft pop noise, leaving it to rest softly against the pillow of her bottom lip when she grins at him. “I like it when you call me that.”

“Baby?”

She grins like a little girl, pressing a few quick pecks to his finger. “Yeah. Say it again.”

Harry props himself on his elbow with a smile, leaning in so he’s closer to her. “Baby.”

“Again.”

He draws out the word slowly as he leans closer, then presses his lips to her neck. “Baby,” he repeats, punctuating the word with another kiss.

She giggles, her shoulder rising as his breath tickles a spot just below her ear. “This is probably so cheesy to say.” Harry purposely bites the spot that made her giggle, and she full on flinches away from him with a squeal and a laugh. “Harry don’t, I’m trying to be romantic!”

“This is romantic,” he says, pulling her closer by her hip and pressing another kiss to the spot. “Go on.”

“I was just going to say that I think that’s my favorite nickname you’ve ever called me.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry pulls back just a bit so he can look at her. “Better than Novocaine?”

“M-hm.”

“Better than SuperNova?” Harry sounds shocked and it makes Nova snort.

“I think you’ve only called me that once.”

“Do you want me to call you that again?”

“Mmm,” Nova pretends to think long and hard, pressing a finger to her chin. “I don’t know. It’s kinda sexy.”

“Right,” Harry says, nodding. “Noted. What else do you like to be called?”

“Anything that comes out of your mouth.”

Harry smiles, scanning his face before leaning in for another kiss. “Now that was a cheesy thing to say.”

Nova laughs, shrugging up her shoulders and reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. “I can’t help it! Maybe it’s your accent.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Oh is that all?”

“Yeah. It has nothing to do with the guy saying the nickname.” Nova is beaming as she gently tugs on his neck, bringing him with her as she relaxes once again against the pillows.

Harry’s voice is low and syrupy when he speaks, lips still grazing against hers. “Alright, that’s also noted.” He kisses at her cheek. “Baby.”

Nova sighs as his lips continue their journey along her cheeks, her nose, her forehead-- uttering nicknames all the while.

“Princess.” “A bit cheesy, but I can’t say I hate it.”

“Sweetheart.”

Nova hums out a sigh, basking in the love he’s giving her and closing her eyes. His petal soft kisses raise goosebumps along her skin. “What else?”

“Angel.” He bumps her nose with his own, kissing gently at her lips. His hands find their way to her hips, rubbing lightly at the skin there.

Nova arches her back, and props one arm behind her head as Harry’s tongue licks softly along the underside of her jaw. “Petal.”

His fingers curl ever so gently so that his fingernails scratch lightly along the waistband of her pants, dipping into them when he reaches just below her bellybutton. “Baby.” He can feel her chest rising and falling as his fingers tease at her panties, but she isn’t fully paying attention to what he’s saying. “Beautiful girl.” He bumps her nose with his own again, this time to notify her to open her eyes.

Her lashes flutter open sleepily, and she reaches up to scratch at the spot just behind his ear with a smile. “Baby.” She says it as if she’s getting used to the feeling of the word in her mouth. Harry feels a bit of a twinge of his cock when sees her like this. Just from kissing her, he’s already got her dazed and in the softest headspace. He wants to cry, she’s so precious.

He only smiles, inching his way up the bed a bit without removing his hand from her pants. “Hey.” He teases lightly at the bow that he feels on the front of her panties as he dips his head down to kiss her collarbone. “This alright?”

“Mm,” Nova says with a nod, tilting her head a bit and watching him as if she’s hanging on his every move. “It is.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses another kiss just above her collarbone, and then one to her inner arm, which is currently propped up by her head. “You sure?”

He rubs light circles against her lower belly now, and Nova has never felt more sure of anything. He leaves no spot untouched, not a trace of skin that doesn’t feel loved by him. Her skin still feels traces of his lips from where he’s kissed, and god she wants his mouth even lower. She nods her head. “Of course.”

Harry smiles, wasting no time. He allows his fingers to dip further and further into her panties until he’s skin to skin with where she’s already wet. This, of course, gives him an idea. And Harry is nothing if he isn’t a little shit.

“Sure you’re not worn out from the orgasms you just had not ten minutes ago?”

Nova’s eyes open again, and her smile fades. “How did you… did you hear?”

“Don’t go all shy on me now, baby. S’not like I’ve never heard before.”

“But you…” Nova props up on her elbows a bit, embarrassed but amused. “I didn’t do that for you to hear. I thought you’d be at band practice by now.”

“Like I said,” Harry says with a teasing grin, curling his fingers unexpectedly against Nova’s clit and making he gasp. “You have a way of getting what you want.”

He’s rubbing circles against her core now, and she relaxes once again against the pillows. She lets out a moan, obviously still sensitive, and Harry’s fingers switch to a teasingly slow pace. He never once ceases the movement as he speaks, looking down at her with the hint of a smirk ever present. “For the record,” he says, paying extra close attention to the way her body reacts to his touches. “That’s not the reason I came over.” He leans down to kiss her ear, brushing his lips along the outside. “I came because I missed you. Because I wanted to talk to you. Because I have never felt so strongly about anyone in my life.” He bites lightly at her earlobe and she shivers. “Because I was an asshole. And I needed to fix what I’d fucked up Something that wasn’t your fault.”

Nova is wiggling against his fingers, her own fingers curling into the sheets beside her and her eyes fluttering closed. But Harry knows she’s listening. Her words are spoken between moans, and she keeps taking breaks to bite at her lip-- especially when Harry slips a finger inside of her. “You’re not… you’re not an asshole… no--shit… no more apologizing.”

“I will be sorry till the day I die,” Harry says with a nonchalant chuckle, as if he isn’t absolutely destroying her with just one hand. “You did nothing wrong. As soon as I left that room today I felt like a fucking idiot. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He noses lightly at her temple, practically melting at her scent, and presses another finger into her.

“Harry,” it’s a plea, barely above a whisper. Both of her hands find their way to his bicep and she squeezes, trying to anchor herself from the overstimulation.

“You want me to stop, baby?” His fingers slow almost completely, and he kisses the top of her head. “Hm?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” She swallows thickly. “I want you to keep going.” She looks at him with fire in her eyes. “I don’t ever want you to stop. You’re so good.”

“Oh.” Harry picks up the pace with his fingers only slightly, grinning down at her, hanging on her every moan, every whimper. Nova lets out a frustrated whimper, reaching down to grasp at the wrist that’s attached to the hand tucked into her panties. “Please,” she says, “Go faster.”

“You know,” Harry says conversationally, completely unfazed by the way her nails dig into his skin, “Now that I think about it, you haven’t been so good yourself.” He slows his movements once again until altogether coming to a stop and pulling his fingers out from inside of her. She full on pouts at the loss of movement and it makes him laugh.

“What?!” she says, exasperated. “Just tell me what I did so I can apologize for it.”

Harry takes his sweet time pulling his fingers out from her pants, lifting them to his lips and sucking-- just as he did the night on the park bench. Nova watches him helplessly, pleading with her eyes for him to touch her again. His cheeks hollow as he sucks on his own fingers, and Nova knows he’s putting on a show for her when he looks up at her from under his lashes. She can tell that his tongue is swirling delicately around the digits and he smirks when he removes them with a pop. “God, you taste good.”

“Harry please, for the love of god, just tell me so I can apologize.”

“That desperate for my fingers, huh?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows and Nova scowls.

“Fucking hell, Harry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Nova. You don’t owe me anything. But that doesn’t mean you’ve been a good girl.”

Nova genuinely wracks her brain, trying to come up with an answer. “Is this because I fucking sent you 300 texts today?”

Harry snorts, but he doesn’t break. “Come on, baby, you know me better than that.” Nova stares at him, pleading for him to just tell her. His tone remains calm and conversational, and he can practically smell her dripping between her thighs just as his words drip out of his mouth. “No? You really don’t know? Alright, I’ll give you a hint.”

He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Do you really think that it was nice of you to use that toy without me?”

Nova shrinks a bit into the pillows, chewing at her bottom lip while a mischievous smile begins to tug at her cheeks. Now she knows exactly what she’s done. “I mean--”

“Do you think that that’s what good girls do? Using that thing to make yourself feel good when I’m not there to see or touch you?”

“But I didn’t know you were there.” Nova’s voice is dripping with innocence, but her eyes are anything but-- which sets Harry off even more.

“And you’re saying if you had known, you wouldn’t have done it?”

“Well I didn’t exactly think you wanted to see me.”

Nova’s words tug at Harry’s heart just a bit, and he breaks the act for just a moment. “You didn’t read my messages?”

Nova frowns. “What messages?”

And then it makes sense to Harry. He’d texted her around 2:30, telling her he was sorry, that he missed her and he wanted to talk to her. When he hadn’t gotten any response, he’d followed up, saying something along the lines of “I’m sorry I’ve been shit at communicating. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” And a third text, “Are you still going to the coffee shop?”

Nova and Harry seem to understand the situation at the same time, because she suddenly gasps. “Ohhh. Oh my god. I turned off my phone.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me anymore after my 900 texts!”

Harry raises his eyebrows, clearly amused, and clicks his tongue. “Nova, Nova, Nova.”

“I’m sorry!” She says, giggly and excited at the prospect of Harry punishing her.

Truthfully, they both simply chalk it up to a silly misunderstanding. But right now, they’re both in this headspace, this scenario where she’s been bad and he gets to tell her so; and they love it.

“Do you think that’s something a good girl would do?” His voice is thick and low, and if Harry’s not mistaken he thinks he sees goosebumps rising along her arm.

“Yes,” Nova says, dragging out the ‘S’ with a girlish grin.

“You do? Oh. I see.”

Nova’s bottom lip tucks itself between her teeth before she changes her mind and puckers up for a kiss. Harry laughs, poking at her cupid’s bow. “Ohh,” he coos. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m sorry?” She isn’t really, and the smile on her face makes that very apparent.

Harry looks down at her, his demeanor both condescending and empowering. “You’re not,” he says. He leans down and presses the gentlest kiss to her lips, pulling away only briefly with a smile. “But you will be.”

They continue to kiss for a while, and Harry can feel a pulsing in between his legs. They grab for one another, tugging at hair, tugging at clothes. They engage in a sort of wrestling match just to see how close they can possibly get to one another with their clothes still on, knocking a few of her throw pillows onto the ground in the process. When they find themselves beginning to undress one another, Harry has to remind himself of the game they’re playing lest he get too carried away with her.

“Where’s the toy?”

Nova blinks at him, taking a moment to register the words coming out of his mouth. Her hands, which were working on getting his pants unbuttoned, freeze mid-action. She speaks almost breathlessly. “The-- what?”

“The vibrator, Nova. Where is it?”

Instantly, Nova’s cheeks grow hot. Her fingers gently pull away from his trousers and rest, nervously clasped, on her lap. “Oh. Under the bed.” She cracks her knuckles, leaning forward a bit.

“And you’re going to be a good girl and get it for me, aren’t you?” Harry’s smirk is teasing, and Nova doesn’t even know how to respond. It suddenly feels as though her brain is running a million miles behind Harry’s, and he nods his head to try and get her attention back before repeating his question. “Aren’t you, Nova?”

“What? Oh, yes. Shit, yes.”

Nova scrambles out from underneath him and sinks down to her knees beside her bed. She sticks her arm out, reaching around until she feels the all too familiar object. Harry’s eyes never leave her, and his hand reaches up to toy with his bottom lip. It’s exciting and embarrassing in the sexiest way, and Nova almost feels silly when she stands back up and presents the toy to him.

It takes everything in Harry not to bust at the seams and tackle her to the bed while he smothers her in kisses right then and there. She’s so bloody adorable, what with her shy smile and the girlish little giggle that escapes her throat when she holds it out to him. Harry almost breaks his dominant demeanor-- almost-- but he resists the temptation because he knows she’s loving this and he’s got a job to do.

“Ohhh,” he coos, taking it from her hands. It’s heavier than he’d anticipated, and a lot bigger than he’d imagined it being. He’s itching to get it on her, but he remains patient. He smirks. “So you can follow directions. What a good girl.”

Nova lets out an almost inaudible giggle, and it makes Harry beam. “This is a pretty toy, isn’t it, Nova? Can’t imagine what it’s going to look like between your legs.”

“I’ve imagined you using it on me so many times.” Nova’s voice is small as she crawls back up onto the bed beside him.

Harry hums through his nose. “Mm. I know you have, darling. You think I don’t remember you screaming my name through these walls?” Nova looks down, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Harry can practically feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. “You’re a loud little thing aren’t you?”

“Not all the time.”

“Oh no? Only when you want me to hear then?” When Nova doesn’t even raise her eyes, much less answer, Harry takes this as his confirmation. He nods. “I see. So you think it’s okay to tease me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s almost surprised when she answers him. Pleased, but surprised. “And why is that?”

“Because.” Nova seems to be coming back to earth, her daze wearing off slowly but surely. Now she’s smiling a bit, just as confident as ever and ready to put up a bit of a fight. Just the way Harry likes it.

“Because why?”

“Because you’re easy to rile up.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and cocks his head, a bit surprised at her answer but not giving up his attitude any time soon. “Am I? Is that all?”

Nova looks like she’s about to bust, and Harry reaches up to softly coax her bottom lip out from between her teeth because, truth be told, if she bites it any harder, he’s afraid it’ll bleed. “Nova, is that the only reason?”

“What other reason would I have for teasing you?”

Harry sits up a bit, scooting closer so that his face is mere inches away from hers. He lowers his voice. “You know, you may be right. It may just be that you’re a brat. A tease. Nothing more. But do you know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you want me to be mean to you.”

Nova blinks dumbly, and Harry quickly continues. “Not mean. Maybe ‘mean’ was the wrong word. But you, Nova, are so used to getting your way. And you’re tired of it. You love a challenge. You love pushing the boundaries. And no one has ever been able to keep up with you. No one ever tells you no.”

“I mean… I mean, I would never--”

“A woman of many words, I see.” Harry smirks, softening up just the tiniest bit and reaching up to stroke at her cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. Not gonna hurt you. It’s still me.” He leans in to press the most tender kiss to her lips and lingers there for just a moment before speaking again. “I am, however, about to wreck the absolute shit out of you.”

Nova giggles again, and the only thing she can manage to do is grab at Harry’s face and kiss him again. Harry smiles, the hand that’s not holding the toy finding its way to the small of her back to pull her into him. “I mean,” Harry continues. “You do deserve it, after all. And I think you’ll like it.”

She practically squeals, and Harry loves it. He loves seeing this side of her that he’s only ever caught glimpses of. She’s submissive and compliant, which is quite different from her otherwise somewhat loud personality outside of the bedroom. Harry figures its because control seems to be her thing, and this is a place where she can fully let go and not have to worry about it for once. A place where someone else can take over, and she gets to reap the benefits-- which he’s more than happy to sow. He knows he could stay here like this for hours, just kissing her and nothing more. But the cold and heavy object in his hand mixed with the stirring in his jeans reminds him that he really does have a job to do.

So Harry clears his throat, flipping the switch and causing the toy to whir to life. He grins at her. “Right. On your back.”

Nova immediately scrambles to do what she’s told, giddy and a bit overly enthusiastic. She lays back against the pillows and reaches up for Harry, taking the back of his neck in her hands and pulling him down to kiss her. He laughs at the force behind her pull, breaking character once again. “Nova,” he says, “baby, take your pants off for me, please.”

Nova puts all of her weight onto her upper back as she lifts her hips up to shimmy out of her pants. Harry helps her (because he’s still a gentleman for God’s sake) by pulling the bottoms off down her feet. Her panties are nothing that she’d consider exciting, just a striped cotton pair with lace along the hem that Harry finds incredibly endearing. She reaches to get them off, but Harry touches her hand, stopping her.

“Not yet, love.”

“What…?” Nova tilts her head, confused, but Harry gives her no time for much else. He presses the vibrator between her legs and smirks at her instant reaction.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you get off that easily, did you?” He’s watching her with a mix of admiration and smug confidence; a look that says “you shouldn’t have misbehaved, and you have no idea what you’ve got coming to you, but you brought this on yourself.”

“Now then,” he continues, pulling the vibrator away far too quickly for Nova’s liking. “Give me your hands.”

Nova is almost too quick to obey, offering her hands out to Harry with eager eyes. “Are you gonna tie me up?”

“No.” Harry takes both of her wrists in one of his hands and raises her arms till they reach her headboard, which conveniently consists of a few horizontal bars. “You’re going to be a good girl and keep them here so that I don’t have to.”

Nova swallows hard, opening up her hands cautiously and wrapping them around a bar towards the middle. Harry grins, leaning down to kiss at her nose. “What a good girl you are,” he coos, before turning the toy back on to its lowest setting with a flick of his thumb. “Hold them there.”

Harry lowers the toy between her legs once again, keeping his free hand steady on one of her thighs. He gently pries her legs open a bit more so as to gain better access, and he begins wiggling the vibe ever so gently, up and down, against the crotch of her panties.

Nova’s toes curl instantly while her back arches a bit. Harry grins, applying a bit more pressure. “S’that feel good, Nova?”

She only replies with a soft hum, and Harry notices her struggling to keep her arms up. His eyes flick up to see her gripping the bar with white knuckles and he smirks. “Keep them there, love,” he warns.

“I’m… I’m trying,” Nova pants, wiggling a bit. It’s a bit hard for her to move, considering that Harry has got her pretty well pinned by her thighs. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, but the hint of her pretty smile neve once leaves her lips. “It’s hard. I wanna… wanna touch you!”

Harry lifts his hand off of her thigh for a split second to brush her hair off of her forehead. “You will soon, darling. Don’t worry.” He uses his thumb to flick the vibrator up to a higher setting, quickly bringing his free hand down to steady her when she jolts a bit. He chuckles, regaining his grip on her thigh and using his thumb to stroke the delicate skin on the inside. “Sensitive thing, aren’t you?”

“Harry-- ohhh.” Nova bites her lip in concentration, trying her hardest to focus on holding on to the headboard. She is, of course, a good girl.

Harry gradually applies pressure to her panties once more, approaching from a somewhat new angle, and without warning Nova jolts again-- this time tugging on the headboard and hitting her head with a loud bang.

“OW, FUCK.”

Harry removes the vibrator and drops it onto the mattress. He can’t help the snort that immediately passes through his lips, although he tries to hide the smile that follows. Nova lets go of the headboard with one hand, then both, and rubs at the spot on her head that has just collided with the headboard. She glances at Harry with confused eyes, and neither of them know whether or not to laugh.

“Owww,” she repeats after a beat, and then they’re both laughing; breaking character once again.

Harry reaches up to rub at the spot on Nova’s head as well, speaking through giggles. “Fuck, you okay? Hit that pretty hard, didn’t you?”

Nova is in a full on giggle fit now. “My god, OW. I’m gonna have a concussion now. Fucks sake.”

“Pretty sure that echoed through the entire building. They’re going to think it was an earthquake.”

“The San Andreas Fault has finally cracked. We are all currently floating off into the sea. The great blue abyss. Goodbye world.”

And then it’s just them again. Harry Styles and Nova Leary, two students who met at a coffee shop like something out of a fanfiction. Two people who had no idea it was ever possible to feel this much, this quickly. It scares them-- or at least, it scares him-- but ready or not, here they are. It’s an unfamiliar certainty that Harry is beginning to adore the feeling of. Harry laughs again, scratching lightly at the place on Nova’s head that he’s almost certain is going to have a bump. They continue to joke around, and it feels so good. So natural to be with her in this way. One minute he’s dominating, authoritative over her while she wiggles beneath him, and the next they’re laughing like best friends, as if she wasn’t just on the brink of orgasm. Both situations are equally sexy in Harry’s eyes; both go hand in hand with one another and make everything between them that much better.

“How could I have been such an idiot?” Harry’s question is quiet, mostly to himself, but it quiets Nova’s giggles down.

“What?”

He leans in for a kiss, trailing his hand up her thigh once again. “You’re so perfect. Can’t stand it.”

Nova smiles softly into the kiss, one hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. With her free hand, she reaches down, feeling around until she finds the toy, unattended and still buzzing beside her.

Harry seems to have had the same thought, because when he reaches for the toy he is greeted by her hand. Their eyes open at the same time, and he smiles-- slipping right back into his dominating style as if he’d never left it. “I’m not done with this yet, baby.”

Nova relaxes back against the pillows, letting go and giving Harry full authority once again. Harry gets a good grip on the toy, flicking it up to its highest setting and lifting it back between her legs. He uses his free hand to reach for one of her own, but instead of bringing it back up to the headboard, he brings it to his own lips. He presses the softest kiss to her knuckles, mirroring the softness of the vibrator against her core, and he delights in the melodic little hum that drips from her lips almost instantly.

It’s comfortable then, their fingers interlaced and resting on her tummy while the vibrator massages through her panties. She wants to take them off-- he knows she does, but he still wants to tease her a bit more.

Harry watches her, fascinated by every face and every noise she makes, and he takes extra special note of all the times she hisses or squeezes at his hand.

“Harry,” she says, her voice rising in pitch. “Harry… fuck, I’m gonna… I’m about to--”

It’s coming without warning, so to speak, and he only presses a bit harder. He wants to tease her more, and he’s going to for sure, but he’s so focused on her every move that he’s almost in a trance.

And then she’s cumming, her whines crescendoing into an all out symphony in his ears. Her fingers squeeze heavily at his own, while her free hand bunches up the sheets of her duvet. Her legs kick out as best as they can, what with him practically resting on top of them. He’s patient as she cums, only letting up on the pressure the slightest bit, and when she seems to be finished he pulls it away.

The silence that follows is thick, especially when Harry flicks the vibrator off. He lets go of her sweaty hand hand and reaches up to run his own hand through his hair. She’s blinking dreamily, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Harry watches her expectantly through it all, showing little to no reactions-- even though he wants nothing more than to get his mouth on her and make her cum again.

Nova props herself up on her elbows, still trying to catch her breath. “Harry,” she breathes.

He only faintly smiles at her, raising his eyebrows slightly and looking like the cockiest little shit. “Did I say you could do that?”

Her own eyebrows crinkle in confusion. “Did you... what?”

“Were you supposed to cum yet?” His voice remains cool and calm, and Nova licks her lips.

“Was I… not supposed to?”

Harry shrugs, his gaze unblinking and challenging. “You tell me.”

“You said…” Nova trails off, scanning his face for anything other than what he’s giving her. “I thought I was allowed to.”

Harry hums, fingers once again toying with the lace along the hem of her panties. “Well,” he sighs after a moment, “I suppose I do owe you one free one. You’ve been good, and I was a prat.” He tucks his fingers into the side of her panties by her inner thigh, pulling them to the side and ducking his head down to get a better look. God, she’s fucking soaked. “Cumming in your panties, though…” He shakes his head. “Messy, messy girl.”

“So now what?” Nova asks, her tone impatient.

“Well,” Harry says, adjusting himself a bit so that he’s sitting up beside her. “That’s really up to you, darling.” He nudges her foot with his own, and she seems to become painfully aware of her naked and exposed lower half, because she crosses her legs at the ankle.

Harry smiles, reaching over and patting her leg reassuringly. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Please,” she whispers.

“Or,” he says, dragging out the word, nudging her foot with his own again. “Do you want me to eat you out?”

He speaks so bluntly that Nova’s ears grow ever hotter. She swallows, admiring his unmatched and unwavering confidence that has her falling apart at the seams.

Her voice seems soft and dreamlike when she speaks; it doesn’t even feel like she’s talking. “You know what I really want?”

“Tell me, baby.” His nails trail lightly up her thigh, an action he’s learned that makes her melt.

“I want to taste you.” She’s so quiet, Harry isn’t even sure he’s heard her correctly. He halts his movements with his fingers.

“Say that again?”

“I want your cock in my mouth.” Its bold, but she tries to keep her face neutral-- something that Harry finds both adorable and sexy. He’s not sure Nova’s ever said anything to filthy before in her life, and he loves that.

His cock also loves how bold she’s being.

So Harry nods. “You may have it. If it’s what you really want.”

Her excitement is unbearably adorable as she hops up and positions herself down at his hips without even answering him. He wastes no time in pulling his pants off, and the outline of him is deliciously prominent though his boxer briefs. Nova licks at her lips, reaching for it slowly. She touches it gently, so gently that Harry feels he could cry.

“Do not tease me,” he warns. “Be good.”

Nova grins innocently, stroking him a bit through the thin fabric before reaching up to tug at the waistband. It’s a bit awkward lowering the tight underpants down his legs, but his cock is so thankful to be free once they’re off. Nova hums, eyeing it as if it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen.

“God.” Nova wraps her fingers around the base, just above his balls, and gives a gentle tug upwards. Harry’s toes curl inside of his socks (which he feels a bit self conscious about leaving on now that he thinks about it) and he reaches out, rubbing softly at her chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

“Baby,” he says. He has nothing else to add, but somehow she knows exactly what he means.

“God look at it,” she says, hardly taking her eyes off of him. He’s huge, much larger than she’d anticipated, and she almost wants to forego the blowjob entirely just to get him inside of her. But he’s been so, so good to her, and truth be told, she wants to make him feel good as well.

“It’s yours,” he says.

“Can I put it in my mouth now?” She looks almost uncertain asking him this, and he smiles.

“It’s yours,” he repeats.

Nova ducks her head, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of him before parting her velvet soft lips and opening her mouth. She envelopes him in her mouth, working slow--painstakingly slow-- as she lowers herself. It already feels like heaven, and when Harry feels her tongue brush softly against the vein on the underside of his shaft, he hisses. “Fuck baby.”

Make no mistake, he is still the dominant one here. But he is at her mercy, and she’s been good. His cock is her reward, and she licks at it like it’s a lollipop she’s been waiting for all day. She gags when the tip of him hits the back of her throat, and it’s all too much for Harry to handle.

Nova looks up at him from under her lashes then, salivating just enough that the corners of her mouth are beginning to glisten. And it’s so fucking sinful that Harry can’t stop the groan he feels forming at the base of his throat.

She pulls off just enough so that the only thing in her mouth is the head, and she swirls her tongue torturously slow around it. The noises she’s making are wet and loud, and Harry can’t bear it. He reaches forward, pausing briefly to scratch gently behind her ear before taking a bit of hair on the back of her head and pushing her down a bit more.

What she doesn’t fit in her mouth, she works with her hands. She gives him long teasing strokes, while the other hand gently fondles at his balls and fuck-- he’s in heaven. She pulls off of him entirely with a slow, teasing smile before pressing a wet kiss to the underside of the head. The shaft. The base. And then-- as if he wasn’t already seeing stars-- his balls.

Nova’s lips part briefly and she sucks lightly at one of them-- taking it partly into her mouth. “Oh fuck,” he says, “Holy fuck.” He sounds almost pitiful, the way he’s cursing and all but whimpering. She. however, is thoroughly enjoying every second of this, and he can feel her smirking against him.

She pops off of his ball with an audible suction noise, presses a wet little kiss to the other one, and then she’s right back at it, taking him as far into her mouth as she possibly can. He’s almost painfully hard at this point, and if she continues the way she is now, he knows he doesn’t have much longer.

His groans are low and deep, and he hisses when she uses her free hand to dig her nails into his thigh to keep him still. The pinch of her nails mixed with her lips around him sends a shiver up his spine, something that does not go unnoticed by her. She lifts off of him gently, a string of spit connecting her bottom lip to the head of his cock. She licks her lips and grins confidently. “Liked that, did you?”

“Always have had a thing for pain,” Harry admits, matter-of-factly. He’s never admitted that to anyone, not even past lovers, but somehow he feels more than comfortable sharing that with her.

Nova wiggles her eyebrows. “Noted.” Before Harry can get another word out, she’s back on him, sucking as if her life depended on it. It takes him by surprise, and the long, loud, half-grunt half-whine he emits is pathetic.

It goes on like this for a while, Nova’s hands massaging his base and then his thighs while her mouth works its way around the rest of his length. Harry’s whines and pants becoming more and more desperate and woeful by the minute. And then, when he gets the all-too familiar bubbling in the pit of his stomach, he knows he’s close.

“Nova.”

She doesn’t hear him as she flattens her tongue and licks straight up the side. Harry jumps as she approaches the tip. Oh fuck.

“Nova. Baby. Hey.”

She doesn’t take her lips off of him, but she does look up at him through half-lidded eyes curtained by her hair, and he shudders. “C’mere.”

He reaches under her chin to guide her head up a bit, and pauses to catch his breath before speaking. His accent is even thicker now, and his annunciation has gone to shit. “Baby, m’close. If we don’t stop--”

“I want you to cum.”

“In your mouth?”

“In me.”

Harry doesn’t realize he’s staring at her slack-jawed until she giggles and reaches forward to close his mouth with her hand. “I mean like, use a condom but… I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

He leans forward without thinking, kissing her harshly. He can taste himself, a sort of heady taste that he finds himself a bit fond of. When he pulls away, they’re both beaming. “M’gonna go get the condom then, alright?”

Nova pouts as Harry rises from the bed. “You’re gonna leave me?”

Harry scrambles around the room to find his discarded boxer briefs, and then his pants. He snorts. “Two seconds, Nova. I live next door.”

Nova sighs. “Fine, but hurry.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he can’t wipe the smile from his face as he disappears from her room. He feels like he’s blacked out as he makes his way from her apartment to his, and he mumbles curses at himself under his breath when it takes him a little bit to find his condoms.

He’s back at her place as quickly as his feet can take him, and her room feels distinctly warmer than the rest of the building.

Especially because of the vision he sees before him.

She’s completely naked, save for the little gold N necklace that he’s surprised he’s never noticed before. She’s so beautiful, laying there propped up on her elbows, legs together with one knee bent. When she sees him, she becomes visibly shy— averting her gaze and reaching up to stroke at her hair.

The truth is, it’s been years since Nova has been like this with another person. She remembers the last time vividly, and although it isn’t particularly unpleasant by any means, it wasn’t spectacular. Her partner hadn’t made her feel like this.

She hadn’t felt like this with them either.

Her toes curl and uncurl, and she only looks up at him when he starts moving towards her. “You’re an angel, baby.”

Her hand finds it way to her mouth and she takes her knuckle lightly between her teeth as Harry begins undressing. He knows she’s watching, and that she’s nervous, so he gives her a bit of a show.

Nova giggles when Harry strips off his shirt— Magic Mike style— and tosses it aside. He’s got quite a few more tattoos than she’d been aware of, including a large butterfly smack dab in the middle of his stomach. He notices her staring at it as he wiggles his way out of his pants, and he smiles. “Like it?”

“I do, yeah. Did it hurt?”

“Closer to the ribs, yeah. But otherwise, no. Kinda tickled actually.” This time Harry remembers to slip out of his socks, and now the only thing between them is the pair of boxer briefs he’s wearing.

Harry pads over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and taking her hand. He kisses her knuckles once, twice, three times, before trailing kisses up her arm. He kisses her neck, her nose, and finally her lips, and he can feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks. “You still want this, yeah?”

“More than anything.” She nods confidently.

Harry smiles, leaning in and kissing her. “Alright.”

It’s all a blur from then on. They continue kissing while Nova helps him get undressed fully. She watches him unwrap the condom and helps him roll it down his length, kissing his smile the entire time. They’re giggly and awkward, as if they’ve never done any of this before, but it feels good. It’s comfortable. It’s the way they should be.

Harry lies back comfortably on his back while Nova straddles his waist. She grins at him, placing both hands on his shoulders and leaning down to kiss him one last time before sinking down fully onto his cock.

They both let out a moan as his hands find their way to her hips, guiding her down. “Nova,” he murmurs, reaching up to play with her hair while she gets used to the full feeling inside of her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Nova begins rolling her hips gently. The inside of her is wet and warm, and every single move she makes ignites Harry’s insides. She’s so wet he can feel it on her inner thighs when they rub against his, and her moans are quick and loud. She reaches for Harry’s hand in her hair, followed by his other hand on her hip, and she interlaces their fingers, bringing both hands down to pin them up by his head.

She tilts her head, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and leans forward to sponge kisses along his neck. Harry bucks his hips up into her when her tongue grazes the base of his throat. “Baby, holy fuck.”

Nova lets out a moan that surprises even her; it’s guttural and loud but it’s short, and she temporarily loses her momentum. Harry assumes its because he’s found her spot; the one that he’s been dreaming about finding, and he’s about to ask her what he did so that he can do it again when she cuts him off.

“I can’t--” She’s nearly yelling now, picking up speed with her hips. “Fuck, I’m going to cum again.”

Harry wants nothing more than to touch her but her hands still have his pinned, and he reckons she doesn’t even realize how tightly she’s squeezing them. He understands though, as he feels himself close to tipping over the edge.

Still, he is the dominant one here. And he intends to keep it that way.

Using the strength of his arms, he tugs a bit, shifting their hands and causing her to fall a little further forward. He lifts his head ever so slightly so that his lips are brushing her ear, and speaks just above a whisper. “How many times have you imagined this, baby? Hm?”

She whimpers, her fingers curling half into his and half into the sheets beneath them. “God--FUCK-- so many times.”

“How many times did you imagine me like this?” He allows his tongue to peek between his lips, alternating between kissing and licking up her neck. He’s exhausted and just on the brink of orgasm, but he wants this to last and whatever he’s doing is clearly working. So with every ounce of strength he has, he intensifies his thrusting.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you, darlin,” he continues. “No idea how many times I fantasized about how fucking filthy your mouth is while you’re cumming. Next time--” he lowers his voice further, surprising even himself with how thick his accent has become, “Next time I want to eat that pussy of yours. Think you’d like that?”

He pauses his words, drinking in the sound of skin slapping skin and the feeling of her wetness against him. He looks up at her with that cocky, challenging little smile once again. “God baby, I knew I made you wet, but not this wet. Look how messy you’ve got me.”

Nova glances down to the place where their bodies meet, and somehow ends up shifting a bit in the process. Harry’s prick grazes against her g-spot once again and she shudders, halting her movements for a brief moment to let out a whine before regaining her composure and rolling her hips. “More, Harry. Please.”

His chest is covered in a sheen of sweat, and Nova is so physically close to him that he can feel her nipples brushing against it every now and then. He grunts when she lowers herself particularly fast, and he knows he’s got little to no time left. “My pretty girl likes it when I talk dirty to her?”

“Harry…. Fuck… I--”

“Christ,” he pants, squeezing at her hands. She jolts forward a little, the ends of her hair brushing against his face. “Look at you. You’re better than any fucking fantasy I could have ever dreamed up you know that? Look how desperate you are to cum. What a good girl.”

He’s thrusting up into her faster than ever, and he can tell she’s getting exhausted. So with a grunt, he uses all of his strength to sit up-- to the best of his abilities. Nova catches on to what he’s trying to do and halts her movements, scooching back ever so slightly to allow him room. He sits up against the headboard and she collapses into him almost instantly, burying her head in his neck and allowing him to take the lead for a bit.

His hands grab hold of her hips and he guides her. He turns his head to press his lips to her ear. He’s close, and he knows she is too, but in no way is he going to half-ass this. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. That’s it. Are you going to be good and cum on my cock?”

Nova gets the same surge of energy and motivation to finish strong that Harry does, because she’s taking his thrusts and rolling along with them with all of her might. “Yes… yes!”

Harry’s low-bellied grunts escape his mouth faster and faster as he feels himself begin to tip over. Nova is all but sobbing against him, practically babbling out his praises. All he can focus on is how good his cock feels, how close he’s getting, and how now there’s a slight charlie-horse in the arch of his foot from how hard he’s been curling his toes.

And then he feels it.

The white hot silence that comes with the ringing in his ears. The pulsing of Nova’s walls as she unravels around his cock. Her pleas and her praises fall on deaf ears, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Even his own voice sounds distant and foggy as he lets out what can only be defined as a wail. It feels so fucking good, tears prickle at his eyes. He has never been this happy, never felt this close to anyone else before in his life.

-.-.-.-.-.- “There are an infinite amount of outcomes to any given situation on the planet. Everything leads up to something else, ya know? Like, every decision you’ve literally ever made– ever– has lead you to being here right now on this bed at this party. Isn’t that insane?”

Harry smiles. “This is going a bit over my head, Novocaine.”

“But like, our decisions all lead to something. So like, maybe we just weren’t making the right decisions. But then think about it, that day at the coffee shop, literally all of the tables were taken. Literally. And then you had made the decision to go there that day, and so did I, and like… you offered me the seat at your table. And then we talked about science and that’s like, literally my favorite thing.”

“Literally?” Harry cocks his head with a shit eating grin.

“Shut up, don’t interrupt my rant. Anyway! The law of attraction is a very real and very rad thing because like, who would’ve thunk that the cute guy that offered me a seat was my neighbor?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry has never considered himself a lucky man by any means. He isn’t really smart (although he isn’t stupid either, mind you) and the one and only thing he actually thinks he’s good at is his music. He knows he’s selfish. He knows he overreacts. He knows that he’s done a lot of things wrong in his life. But he’s also knows that he’s destined for extraordinary things. Extraordinary music taste. Extraordinary drink making skills. And an extraordinary love.

Which is why he thanks his goddamn lucky stars, and his idiotic past self. Because whatever he did, whatever wrong decisions he’d ever made, they led him straight to this girl. This once in a lifetime, extraordinary person who exploded into his life in the weirdest possible way-- like a supernova.

Nova collapses against him when they’re both finished. Her breath on his neck comes in short, hot puffs. Harry’s ears are still ringing loudly but his hands find their way up to her back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin where her bra used to sit.

Neither of them makes any effort to move for the next minute or so. Neither of them seems to mind. They hold on to one another tightly, still conjoined, and trying to get their heart rates back down to normal.

After a while though, Harry’s leg starts to cramp. He shuffles a little underneath Nova, trying not to disturb her. Instead, however, she lifts her head and greets him with a sleepy smile and messy hair.

“You good?” She asks casually, and Harry chuckles out of pure surprise.

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, she’s right back to her quick-witted self. “Yeah,” he says, scratching affectionately at the back of her head. “Yeah, m’good. You?”

Nova bumps her nose against Harry’s. “I’m absolutely fantastic.”

They’re giggly and surprisingly chatty for the next few minutes as they slowly pick up their discarded clothes from the floor and put themselves back together. It’s all so casual, so normal. Nova excuses herself to go pee. Harry awkwardly looks around for a place to throw his condom until Nova notices he’s carrying it and screams, telling him to throw it in the bathroom trash can.

“But you were in the bathroom!”

“You couldn’t have knocked?!”

“You were peeing!”

“You literally just saw me naked less than 30 seconds ago, you lunatic!”

And then they’re dressed, lying comfortably atop her disheveled duvet with their arms around one another. Nova curls comfortably into his side, now wearing the black hoodie he’d been in when he’d arrived. They share blissful, soft little kisses, and every so often Harry will nibble at her nose or her neck to make her laugh.

“You know something?” Nova says, picking up Harry’s hand in her own and playing with his fingers.

“Tell me.”

“You’re like, insanely good at sex. Literally.”

Harry chokes out a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Like, better than I’d imagined. And I’d imagined it a lot.”

“Mm.” Harry nods his head, too exhausted to let himself wonder what else she’d imagined about him. “Well thank you. You aren’t so bad yourself.”

Nova beams at him, as if surprised. “You think so?”

“‘Course I think so. It’s like you were made for me. It’s like your ass is literally made of gold.”

Nova scowls. “Seriously? You had to go and say something stupid like that?”

Harry tries (read: fails) to conceal the smirk on his face. “What? It’s true. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”

Nova looks back over her shoulder at her own behind and shrugs. “Mm… I mean, yeah. It’s a pretty good ass.”

“Speaking of,” Harry says, “my band and I have got another gig next Wednesday.”

It’s Nova’s turn to laugh. “What does that have to do with my golden ass?”

“Well, I was hoping you would bring said ass to it.” Nova opens her mouth to say something, but Harry cuts her off. “I promise, no ridiculous confessions this time. Nothing dramatic. Hell, you could even invite your friend Tommy or.. Or Mason…”

“Jason,” Nova corrects.

“Jason. Yeah. Invite him. We can set him up with Clare.”

Nova rolls her eyes. “You’re cute. I’m not gonna invite him. Buuuuut…” She drops his hand and reaches up to grab his face, tilting his head so that she has easier access to kiss his cheek. “I will be there. Promise.”

“Wonderful.”

The silence over the next few minutes is so strangely comforting, that Harry doesn’t notice when he starts drifting to sleep. He doesn’t even realize he’s only halfway conscious until Nova speaks softly. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“You asleep?”

Harry yawns, louder than necessary to make Nova laugh. “I was about to be. M’sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sleepy, too. Can we take a nap?”

Fuck, if Harry didn’t think he loved her before, he surely does now.

“A nap sounds great, actually.”

“Great.” Nova snuggles down into his side even further, but then sits up so suddenly it startles him. “Oh! Wait, hang on, do you mind if I play something? I’ve been listening to it every night to help me sleep and now like, I kinda have a hard time sleeping without it.”

Nova doesn’t wait for Harry to answer (not that his answer would have mattered anyway) before she’s up and padding over to her laptop. She opens it up, types a few things in, and pulls up a playlist. She scrolls a bit, making a few clicking noises with her tongue until she finds the song she wants. “Here!”

Harry recognizes the song instantly. It’s the one he’d sang for her at the last gig. The one he’d covered for her on the playlist. He’s genuinely surprised as she walks back to the bed and settles into his side once more.

“You listen to this every night?”

“Every night! It’s good.”

Nova relaxes into him, and Harry’s allows his arms to drape naturally around her. The sound of his own voice coming from the speakers of her laptop fill the room.

“And you don’t even know, you’re like my wildest dream Held captive in stone, held captive in stone, Wishing you were mine Wishing you were mine…”

“Harry?” her voice is soft, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You know I’m yours right?”

His heart feels like it could burst at her words, and he tightens his grip around her even more. “Of course.”

“Every decision we’ve ever made has led us to being each other’s.” She’s sleepy and she’s rambling, but Harry loves it. “Isn’t that wild?”

Harry sighs, tilting his head down to rest his cheek on the top of her head. “It is, yeah.”

In under a minute, Nova is out cold. Harry knows he isn’t far behind, but he wishes he wasn’t. He wants to stay here like this, feeling her breath on his neck, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, feeling her involuntarily cling to him in her sleep. But soon he’s out, too, dreaming of the coffee shop where he’s certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he met the love of his life.

------

A/N: Alright first off, let us all just take a collective deep breath now that we’ve gotten through all of that. Good? Yes? Okay.

HONESTLY, I didn’t expect to feel a little emotional over this story coming to an end, but here we are. I really loved Hova (as my darling Bee christened them) and bringing Nova to life was some of the most fun I’ve ever had since I started writing. I’m also emotional because, even though it took me close to a year, I finished an entire story with multiple parts, which is something I haven’t done since I was about 16. I’m so proud of this story, seriously. And the fact that the plot came from the mind of an anon is even more incredible. I owe you guys so very much and I’m so so SO thankful that you didn’t give up on me or on this story, even throughout my long writing drought. Thank you for the constant asks, thank you for pushing me to keep writing (even if you didn’t realize that’s what you were doing) and thank you for loving Nova and Harry as much as I do.

A huge thank you to miss @imethiminthemorning, without whom this story would either a) not exist or b) just be complete and absolute shit. Thank you for constantly listening to me complain about how hard writing is, for popping into my google docs every now and then just to comment encouraging things on everything and watch me type, for putting up with endless typos, for bearing with me every single time I would write and rewrite a scene, for always being down to drink wine and whine, and just for being the most amazing human being on the entire planet. Nova and Harry say thank you for their lives.

Also shout out to @bribe-the-door and @harryfeatgaga for never getting tired of me screaming in the groupchat about all the sneak peeks I was constantly sending them. You guys are amazing and I genuinely don’t know how I ever survived before we started texting tbh.

I DON’T WANT TO FULLY CLOSE THE DOOR ON HOVA, so feel free to send me questions about them. I’m sure there will be plenty of blurbs about them in the future. And who knows, maybe one day we’ll open the door on them again. ;)

IN CONCLUSION: I LOVE YOU GUYS. THANK YOU FOR READING. THANK YOU FOR BEING THE BEST. BE NICE. BE KIND.

THE END.