#is it funny enough to stop the crushing of my very soul?

[starryeyedwolves]

More Than Enough

It started like many mornings did, with sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains of their London flat and the smell of slightly burnt toast wafting in from the kitchen. Remus sat curled on the edge of their bed, wrapped in a blanket despite the warmth of the room, book forgotten in his lap, expression unreadable.

Sirius padded in, mug in each hand, his black hair a little messier than usual, like he'd run his fingers through it a dozen times already. “Coffee,” he said, setting one down on the bedside table.

Remus didn’t move. Not even a thank you.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly. “Alright, what’s eating you?”

Remus blinked, finally looking at him. “Nothing,” he said quietly.

“Oh, brilliant. Nothing. My favorite kind of soul-crushing silence.”

Remus huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was just thinking.”

“Never good,” Sirius muttered, nudging his arm. “What about?”

There was a long pause, long enough Sirius thought he wouldn’t answer. Then:

“You deserve someone... better.”

Sirius stared. “Better than what?”

Remus looked down at his hands. The faded scars along his knuckles. The slight tremble in his fingers. “Than me.”

The room went very, very still.

Sirius set his coffee down with care. “You want to run that by me again, Moony?”

“I mean it,” Remus said, voice cracking. “You—you could have anyone. You’re—you’re bright and wild and good. You come from money, you’re good-looking—” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Don’t start. You know you are. You could have someone who’s not... damaged. Not—”

“Stop,” Sirius snapped, rising to his feet. “Stop right there.”

Remus looked up, startled. Sirius was pacing now, running both hands through his hair. “You think I’m with you out of pity? Out of convenience?”

“I think you’re with me because you think you have to be,” Remus said, standing now too. “Because I’m broken and you feel responsible.”

“Responsible?” Sirius scoffed, eyes blazing. “You think I’m the responsible one in this relationship?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sirius moved closer, face inches from his. “You really think I look at you and see something broken?”

Remus didn’t answer.

Sirius stepped back. “Right. Fine.”

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Remus stood alone in the silence, unsure whether to follow or retreat. The air between them felt charged, uncertain, like a wand held too tightly.

Then Sirius reappeared, shoving his leather jacket on.

“Where are you going?” Remus asked.

“Out,” Sirius said. “To prove something.”

“What?”

Sirius didn’t answer, just slammed the door behind him.

The first thing Sirius did was show up at James'.

James opened the door in joggers and a shirt stained with baby spit-up. “You look like you’re about to punch a wall.”

“Just your face,” Sirius muttered, walking past him.

“Always a pleasure.” James followed. “What happened?”

Sirius threw himself onto the couch. “Remus thinks he’s not good enough for me.”

James blinked. “Has he seen you try to boil an egg?”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” James said, sitting across from him. “I’m serious sorry, I mean—”

Sirius glared.

“Alright, alright. So he said that. Why?”

“Because he’s Remus. Because he thinks being a werewolf, or poor, or tired all the time makes him unlovable.”

“And you want to convince him otherwise.”

Sirius looked up. “Not just him.”

James tilted his head.

“I need to prove it to myself too,” Sirius said. “That I can love someone the right way. That I’m not just... my mother’s son.”

James’ expression softened. “You’re not.”

“I want him to feel it. Not just hear it. I want him to know that when I say I love him, I mean every damn part. The scars. The growls. The way he hoards books like a dragon. I want him to know he’s enough.”

“Then show him.”

Sirius spent the rest of the day doing exactly that.

He started by going to Flourish and Blotts. The clerk raised an eyebrow when Sirius slammed a list of obscure titles on the counter. “Planning to read them all?”

“They’re for someone,” Sirius said.

Next, he went to the corner bakery and ordered the exact kind of chocolate Remus liked—dark, with sea salt, and a hint of orange. Then to the secondhand shop down the road where he found a worn leather satchel that reminded him of the one Remus used to carry at Hogwarts.

He even stopped by the magical apothecary to restock the potion cabinet. The shopkeeper gaped when Sirius, who usually avoided the place like the plague, asked detailed questions about soothing balms and healing tonics.

And finally, he went home.

Remus was still there, still in the bedroom, sitting exactly where Sirius had left him.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly.

Remus looked up, eyes wary.

Sirius dropped everything on the bed. “These are for you.”

“What is all this?”

“Things you love. Things that make you feel safe. Things that remind you that I see you—not just the broken bits, but all of you.”

Remus opened the satchel, fingers brushing over the soft leather. “Sirius—”

“I love you,” Sirius said, voice shaking now. “Not despite who you are. Because of who you are. You’ve always made me want to be better. Not for you. With you. You see the worst in yourself and I still see someone who’s patient, and kind, and brilliant.”

Remus’ throat worked around a wordless noise.

Sirius stepped closer. “You think I deserve someone better? I don’t want anyone better. I want you. Always have.”

He lifted a hand, cupping Remus’ cheek. “I don’t care if you think you’re broken. I want every sharp edge. Every scar. Every midnight howl.”

Remus leaned into his touch, finally, finally breaking. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I am too,” Sirius said, pressing their foreheads together. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

Remus closed his eyes. “You’re a bloody romantic, you know that?”

Sirius grinned, a little wet around the edges. “Don’t tell anyone.”

They stood there for a long time, tangled in silence and warmth.

And maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe they’d fight again. Maybe there would always be dark days and doubts.

But in that moment, Sirius knew—no, they both knew—that love wasn’t about being flawless.

It was about choosing each other.

Again, and again, and again.

The days that followed weren’t exactly perfect, but something had shifted.

It was in the way Sirius started leaving little notes in Remus’ books — scribbled in the margins, tucked between chapters. Sometimes it was just a “you made it this far, proud of you,” and other times it was a silly doodle of a wolf in a cardigan drinking tea. Once, it was a folded scrap with a quote from one of Remus’ own essays, underlined and annotated with: this sentence made me fall in love with you all over again.

Remus found it during a full moon recovery, his limbs aching and his head heavy, and he’d pressed the note to his chest and cried without knowing why.

Maybe it was because he was finally starting to believe it.

Sirius was relentless — not in the loud, dramatic way people expected of him, but in quiet, deliberate ways that Remus wasn’t used to.

He fixed the creaky drawer in the kitchen. Stocked the pantry with Remus' favorite teas. Started bringing home wizarding crossword puzzles even though he was terrible at them, just so Remus could smirk and correct him.

Once, Remus woke from a nightmare, clawing at the sheets, gasping for breath, and Sirius was there before he could even say his name. He didn’t try to fix it. He just held him — arms wrapped tight, face buried in Remus’ shoulder, whispering, I’m here. I’ve got you.

And that night, Sirius didn’t sleep either. He just kept holding on.

They sat on the balcony one chilly evening, wrapped in mismatched blankets, the city lights blinking below them. Sirius passed Remus a mug of cocoa — made the proper way, with steamed milk and actual chocolate melted in.

Remus blew on the surface, then said, “You know I’m still not sure.”

Sirius looked over, brow creasing. “About us?”

“No.” Remus’s voice was soft. “About me.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I’ll be sure enough for both of us, until you catch up.”

Remus laughed, hoarse and small, but genuine. “That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone like me.”

Sirius leaned over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re someone worth putting faith in.”

They sat in silence for a while. The good kind — the kind that felt lived in. Comfortable.

Then Sirius said, almost absently, “You remember fifth year? After the Willow incident?”

Remus flinched, the memory still raw in places. “Hard to forget.”

“I was so sure you’d never forgive me. And honestly, you had every right not to. I was a right bastard.”

“You were a kid. A reckless, arrogant kid. But... yeah. You were scared too.”

“I was. Scared you’d never look at me the same. And maybe you didn’t for a while. But you did again. Eventually. You forgave me. You believed I could do better.”

Remus turned toward him. “You did do better.”

Sirius gave a crooked smile. “Because of you.”

Remus shook his head. “You’ve always had it in you. You just needed a reason.”

Sirius glanced sideways at him, a little teasing sparkle in his eyes. “So I’m your redemption arc, is that it?”

Remus smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But he bumped their shoulders together and didn’t pull away.

The next full moon was worse than usual.

Remus had taken the potion, but it didn’t matter. Something about the shift this time — the tension in his body, the way the wolf clawed its way to the surface — it left him wrecked. Raw.

He was shivering in bed when Sirius returned from cleaning the shed they'd reinforced with every charm they knew. Sirius said nothing at first — just climbed in beside him, pulled him in close, and held on.

Remus whispered, “You don’t have to stay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius murmured against his hair. “This is where I belong.”

“You don’t get tired of this? Of me?”

Sirius pulled back, eyes dark. “I don’t get tired of breathing, Remus.”

That made Remus laugh — a watery, broken sound. “You’re full of awful metaphors.”

“Only for you.”

He kissed Remus’ knuckles, one at a time, brushing over the scars. Then his collarbone. His temple. His heart.

And Remus thought maybe love didn’t have to come in grand gestures and sweeping declarations. Maybe sometimes it came in cocoa mugs and warm hands and the quiet, stubborn kind of loyalty that never gave up — even when you didn’t believe you were worth the fight.

Especially then.

Later that week, Remus was folding laundry — Sirius’ weirdly high number of band tees and very few socks, as usual — when he found a torn piece of parchment tucked in one of the pockets.

It was scribbled in Sirius’ handwriting. Not meant to be found, he could tell. Maybe a note to himself. Maybe something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

You are not hard to love. You are just used to being alone. But I’m not going anywhere.

Remus sat down on the floor and let himself cry again.

Not because he was sad.

But because, for once, he believed it.

[nerdycheol]

Hint. Hint. HINT!!!

Pairing: Lee Seokmin (DK) x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crush

WC: ~2.5k

Lee Seokmin was either the dumbest person you had ever met or just truly, utterly clueless.

For months now, you had been dropping hints—glaring, neon-sign-worthy hints—but he still hadn’t caught on. It was ridiculous. Actually, no—it was painful.

How else were you supposed to let him know you liked him? Spell it out in the sky? Get a marching band to parade through campus?

Today, you were determined to make it even more obvious.

Hint #143: Movie Night

“You know,” you started, casually scrolling through Netflix as Seokmin sprawled out on your dorm bed beside you, “watching a movie together like this is basically a date.”

He snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Pfft, nah. Friends do this all the time.”

You shot him a look. “Yeah, but do friends do this?” You shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your heart thumped. Any second now, he’d get it—he had to.

Seokmin, the human golden retriever that he was, just hummed happily. “You’re so comfy, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes. “Seokmin. Be honest. Are you acting dumb or are actually dumb?”

He blinked. “What?”

You sat up, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints left and right, and you—” You pointed at his forehead. “Are. Not. Getting. It.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Hints? What hints?”

You gaped at him. “Oh my god.”

---

Hint #157: Borrow My Hoodie

One of the surefire ways to get a guy’s attention was the classic borrow his hoodie move. So when you saw Seokmin in his oversized, soft-as-a-cloud hoodie one morning, you knew what had to be done.

You tugged at his sleeve as he sat across from you in the campus café. “Hey, can I borrow your hoodie?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Are you cold?”

Success.

You pulled it over your head, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent and something undeniably him. “Wow, this is so comfy. I might just keep it forever.”

Seokmin grinned. “That’s fine, I have others!”

You sighed. “No, Seokmin. This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘If you keep my hoodie, you have to give me something in return.’”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like…” You leaned forward, staring into his very soul. “A kiss, maybe?”

For a moment, just a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed. “Ohhh, that’s funny! You almost got me there!”

You groaned, flopping onto the table. Why is he like this?

---

Hint #200: The Almost Confession

Enough was enough. If he couldn’t figure it out on his own, you were just going to have to spell it out for him.

The two of you were sitting on the campus lawn after class, enjoying the golden sunset. Seokmin stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, and you nearly forgot your entire train of thought.

No. Focus.

You took a deep breath. “Seokmin.”

“Hm?” He turned to you, all bright eyes and sunshine.

“I like—”

RIIING.

His phone buzzed loudly, and he scrambled to answer it. “Oh! Sorry, give me a sec—hello?”

You closed your eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course.

When he finally ended the call, he turned back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

You exhaled. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

---

Hint #250: The Breaking Point

It was getting ridiculous. Everyone in your friend group knew you liked him. Even strangers could probably tell. Everyone except Lee Seokmin himself.

You decided to try one last time.

“Seokmin.” You stopped in the middle of the campus quad, grabbing his hand.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I’d make a good girlfriend?”

He tilted his head. “Of course! You’d be amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You squeezed his hand tighter. “What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another. You watched as his brain visibly tried to process the words.

“…Wait. What?”

You groaned, pulling your hand away. “Seokmin. Oh my god.”

And then—finally—it clicked. His eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in realization.

“Wait. Wait. Are you saying—”

“Yes!” you practically shouted. “I’ve been saying it for months!”

His face turned red. “You like me?!”

You threw your hands up. “YES, GENIUS.”

For a second, he just stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then, all at once, his face broke into the brightest, happiest smile you had ever seen.

“You like me?” he repeated, this time with so much joy that your frustration melted away.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Yes, Seokmin. I like you. And I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time.”

He laughed—loud, full, and infectious—before suddenly wrapping you in a tight hug. “I like you too! I just… I didn’t know if you liked me back.”

“You—” You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Seokmin grinned, holding you tighter. “So… does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “You better.”

And finally, finally, Lee Seokmin got the hint.

Bonus:

Jeonghan sighed, watching from a distance. “Took them long enough.”

Joshua nodded. “I was starting to think we’d have to force them into a closet or something.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nah, even then, Seokmin would probably think it was just ‘friend bonding.’”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

[mediumgayitalian]

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Solace, I am going to strangle you."

For someone to claim to have absolutely no Apollonian talents outside healing, Will has an exceptional proclivity for the dramatics. If it weren't for the slightest, barest, most miniscule twitch in he corner of his mouth, Nico would have believed his ruse wholeheartedly.

Instead, he watches that tiny little twitch and the deliberate, sympathetic tilt to blond eyebrows and rolls his eyes as hard as he can.

"You really have my deepest sympathies!" Will insists. He tucks his hands behind his back, glancing down at the ruined, crushed brownie making home in the grass, next to the brazier. "It's -- a tragedy, really. So young, so fudgy. Taken from us too soon."

"You have a lot of gall for someone so close to a fire."

"The last camp brownie of the month, too. Squashed on the grass. It's a metaphor, really. For life."

"Oh my gods."

That cracks him, and he smiles, shoving it down as quickly as he can but Nico sees it, because he isn't fucking slick, because he is an irritant and annoying and an all around pain in his side who has better things to do than taunting Nico about a stupid freaking brownie, but he is not doing these things because he is a doofus. Of the highest magnitude. A doofus with very big blue eyes that sparkle ever so in the evening sun and a very delicate Cupid's bow, that is still fucking twitching.

"You should give it the proper rites," says Will solemnly. "Here, I'll help."

Before Nico can stop him, or strangle him, he drops to a crouch, his own plate of food falling forgotten by his feet, and scoops the brownie chunks in his large hands. He fishes a napkin out of his pocket, smoothing it on his thigh, then lays the brownie ever so gently upon it, picking out the blades of grass and covering it carefully.

He holds out the napkin-shroud.

"O Prince of the Dead, Seer of Rites, Guide of Lost Souls, I pass this Fudge Brownie Supreme onto thine most capable hands; grant, take her, and with great care, bring her to the gates of Hades, so that she may be judged, against the lightness of her heart, and brought to the gardens of Elysium; paradise."

"Are you done."

"No." He clears his throat. "For mine own healer hands could not bring her back to the warmth of the Earthen light --"

"Oh my gods."

Nico watches, with his own two working eyeballs, gobsmacked, as Will begins to glow golden from the palms of his hands, enveloping the brownie corpse in strands of gentle sunlight.

"-- and so I entrust her, O Reaper Junior, O Pipsqueak of Pluto --"

"That's enough."

Faster than Will can stop him Nico tears off a chunk of his shirt, wraps it around the tip of his sword, and plunges it into the fire. Will shrieks and, wisely, bolts; in milliseconds Nico is gaining, now-flaming swords inches from the dumbass's neck, cussing him out in every language he knows one decibel louder than Will's screaming for help.

None comes.

As is life at Camp Half-Blood.

"Okay! Okay! I was joking! I'll never call you Pipsqueak again --"

Immediately, Will starts wheezing, neck swelling with splotchy red hives, and Nico has to take a moment to hold his flaming sword to the side and drop his face in his free hand. He prays to his father for strength. His father, more miffed about the blasphemy than the blatant disrespect of Nico's honor, gods help Will's soul, does not respond.

At Nico's pause, Will falls to his knees.

"Please," he begs, or with his swelling tongue more says pdease. He clasps his hands together, brownie falling to the ground. "Spare me! I'm too pretty to die! Or, at least, I'm too pretty to die by flame! Have mercy on me and stab me lightly in the side, so I have enough time to recite Mercutio's monologue as I bleed out!"

"I wanted to stab you twelve percent more with every word."

"That's what, almost five hundred percent? Surely that is enough for the rage to become funny again. Jester's privilege. I must be spared."

He waves his clasped hands again for emphasis.

Nico's mouth twitches.

Godsdamnit.

"You are the most annoying person in this camp, you know that?"

Will counts seven seconds after his sword is sheathed, just for insurance, then jumps to his feet, beaming.

"Really? Only camp-wide? Aw, you do love me."

His allergic reaction immediately begins to subside. Nico flushes. Will pounces upon his moment of weakness and slings a stupidly long arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough that Nico's can't flail away or sucker punch his way free.

"I love you too," he says, pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek with a mwah! so loud it echoes from the lake to Half-Blood Hill and causes four separate eavesdropping Aphrodite campers to faint, fanning their faces. Nico's face goes so read his vision starts to swim.

"Your death will be slow and public," he promises darkly.

Will's mouth twitches. "Whatever you say, Death Boy."

[waihtie]

Counting down to the season finale

Season 5 Episode 21 - Two Minutes to Midnight

○ Doc (Pestilence) is giving this person all kinds of diseases at once

This is gonna be gross. And this time I mean it.

○ Back to, in Dean's words, "Sam's genius plan to say "yes" to the Devil.

Of course he's pissed. And says no.

○ Cas baby is in a hospital

His "batteries are drained" from blasting himself outta there a few episodes back

So he's practically human while he recharges

Also, he looks so GOOD

Aweee ^. Dean is holding back a smile, I swear

○ Dean knocking that poor security guard out

He was acting pretty cute before that, too

○ Pestilence knows the boys killed his brothers. Imagine all these entities knowing who you are.

He wants payback. He is very unhappy.

Also, I was right about the "gross". Everyone there just died a gooey sickly death

Even the boys are very sick (but alive)

○ WOAH Cas that was badass

3 rings down

○ "I don't understand your definition of good news" lol

○ LMAO

There is something about their reactions here

THE PHOTO

"Why'd you take a picture?" "Why'd you have to use tongue?"

Crowley is a pro at saving his own ass. He is borrowing Bobby's soul bc as long as he has that, they won't kill him. But he wants to help.

Except they totally changed the way Souls work later in the show. "Later" as in two episodes from now

○ Sam tryna convince Dean to let him sacrifice himself again

Baby's self-worth is non-existant. Someone please give him a little kiss and a little compliment

○ Brady's team is playing it smart.

Step 1: Spread swine flu

Step 2: Sell the vaccine, but chock it full of Croatoan virus

Country-wide distribution

○ THE ICONIC DEATH ENTRANCE

The car. The "brush with Death". The casualness of him.

○ Awe Cas feeling useless

Awe Cas trying to let it out to Bobby, but he doesn't listen the way Dean does.

○ Crowley casually just has Death's scythe. And casually gives it to Dean.

HE ADDED A CLAUSE IN BOBBY'S CONTRACT SO BOBBY CAN WALK AGAIN

Is this self-preservation, or bc of his boy-crush on Dean?

I love Crowley. He always tries to act so tough and heartless, but he's got a heart.

○ Cas showing faith in Sam and thinking Sam's plan might actually work. It feels backhanded, bc my first thought was that it was funny that Cas really doesn't care that Sam's plan involves sacrificing himself.

Cas says Adam is Michael's vessel now

Oh Geez, Sam's plan is ever riskier than thought. I don't feel like writing it all out, tho.

○ Sam, Bobby and Cas are tryna stop the vaccine/virus from getting out.

So many good lines, not enough space.

Dean and Crowley found Death.

○ This conversation between Death and Dean is very interesting

Death says he's either as old as God or older. I feel based on what we know of God later on, this isn't true

It's kind of funny how Death went on this big monologue about how insignificant Dean is to him but then turns around and says he needs something from Dean because Lucifer has Death bound to him.

Lucifer is using Death to cause mass death. (Chicago was about to be wiped off the map)

GEEZ. Death is willing to GIVE Dean his ring, save all of Chicago, and most of the world -- but Dean has to let Sam do his plan.

He agrees. Do we buy it? Not really.

○ "What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face" I knew Dean would never let Sam willingly jump into the cage

○ Bobby showing his faith in Sam to Dean. I wish Sam could hear this. I wish I could right this all out, too

Ugh I love the funny moments, but I really wish there were gifs of those important moments about Sam, too. I want to show you the things Bobby is saying

What I should have written when Sam first mentioned the plan: his plan is to attempt to take over his body while Lucifer is wearing it just long enough to jump into the cage

[rosedforbes]

Hello! How are you? Saw that you’re a KC fan and I wanted to ask, are you on ao3 or ffnet? If not, can you suggest any good KC authors with their stories?

hiii anon!!

I am on Ao3, but no as a writer 🥲 However, I do MANY recs (they're all third person povs!):

THE WOLF I, II, III [incomplete]

When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined. [It's The Originals Season 1, but Caroline is a witch and she's pregnant with Klaus' child. That's it.]

Take the originals, throw away most of the things you hate about it, and put Caroline in it. Results: the best spin-off for TVDU! Honestly, I'm the biggest pregnancy plot hater, both in fan fiction and canon, but this... This is everything.

Yokan [ @galvanizedfriend ] did, and is still doing, a terric job. Grammar is near impeccable, the PoV's are more in-character than TO itself, and, unlike the tv show, this story actually brings LOGICAL explanations to everything that happens. How characters think, why they do what they do, why they say what they. It's A LONG ONE, but so worth it. The author is one of the nicest people in this fandom, and I genuinely wish her the best.

It's actually a rewrite of the four seasons!! first three are published separately, but the fourth one is posted alongside the third!! there are still 10 (or less, not sure) chapter missing, but don't let that stop you from enjoying one of the best fiction out there.

Overall, everything by Yokan is a masterpiece, so you should give a general view at her Ao3 page, too!

BENEATH THE SKIN [complete]

“He could still remember those sunsets if he tried hard enough. And here it was, mirrored in a young angel’s wings.” Klaus is an Archangel whose pursuit of power is unmatched. Caroline is the only person that might be able to save his sanity.

I linked the Ao3 page, but I actually read this on FF.net!

a pure work of Art. I'm not one to cry over fictional stuff, but this work had me crying and sobbing at 3 am last summer. It shattered my heart and put it back together 300 times. It's mostly from Caroline's point of view, grammar is majestic and every chapter is addicting.

Even though it's about Archangels, it's not necessarily religious, so, if you're like me and despise anything related to religion, this is still worth your time!! it's full of angst, BUT it has a bit of comfort and a happy ending. There are some lines that genuinely made me question if this was actually a fanfiction and not a novel.

ALL I WANTED [complete]

In which I vaguely follow TVD canon and write the soulmate/werewolf mating AU which absolutely no one asked for.

OR

The one in which Klaus finds his soulmate, gets bitten, hides his mating mark from her and waits for the day she'll let him give her one back. Fluffy, mildly angsty slow burn with possible super hot hybrid smut in later chapters.

*Nominated for a KC Award in the Best Smut Multi-Chapter category*

WHEN I TELL YOU THIS IS PURE FIRE, I MEAN IT. I always found it funny how Klaus spent centuries to trigger his wolf side, just to never come in contact with it. But here, here his wolf is very much present, and sometimes even smarter than his human/vampire side.

If you enjoy possessive, protective, soul crushing!klaroline as much as I do, then this is for you! Fun and Drama walk alongside through the story, followed once again by lines that makes you re-read the link multiple times, just to be sure this is still a fan story and not an actual book.

Also, that award is 100% deserved, trust me.

RED PASSION [complete]

"It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a mistake. But, to vampires, life is blood and blood binds."

More soulmates/mates fictions, Yay!

This fanfiction gives you such a deep insight of Klaus and Caroline's pov, you almost feel it in your own mind. Denial? here. Angst? Here. Comfort? Here. Comical factor? Here. Drama Factor? Here. Heart breaking quotes that makes you bawl like a baby? Here!

Once again, we see a very interesting and active part of Klaus' wolf side (even tho he doesn't actually turn, from what I remember). ALSO! Kol being a little shit aka the best youngest-brother interpretation 🥹 very important factor imo!

SEASONS [complete]

The Princess and the King have a deal: any suitors who wish to win her hand in marriage must first successfully steal the moonstone from the Hybrid.

The Hybrid is growing tired of killing all these would-be burglars.

LUIZA [ @definedareasofuncertainty ] REALLY HAD MY HEART IN HER HANDS WITH THIS ONE. It's otherworldly, literally.

Once again, Angelic!Klaroline, but give it a twist! One thing about these idiots is that it takes them 4 seasons of denial to admit that they're in love with each other. Every chapter has such a deep insight into their minds, making you see a clear path of change and a mix of emotions on both ends that make you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible.

you should check Luiza's Ao3 page because it's a goldmine! she always put such an emotional atmosphere in her stories, the type of thing that makes you look away for a second because you have to catch a breath, almost like you are part of the story.

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

now, I actually have tons of other recs, but I don't want to overwhelm you with a never-ending list 🥲 If you do want more, you should check my #PIQ ! i write down my favourite lines from klaroline fanfiction, and they're linked to the titles!!!

I hope i was helpful! Have a good one <3

[captainimfangirling]

Ok I said I didn't ship Beeltejuice and Lydia but now I kinda do after watching Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Yes she wasn't interested in him romantically but I don't give a f*ck. I don't need a mortal compass to ship fictional characters and I've always shipped villains x heroes. I guess never shipped them in the first movie because I was a kid when I first saw it plus they're both adults in the second movie so what the f*ck. I don't see this any different from shipping a vampire and a human.

Warning: Major spoilers (my long ass review)

My disappointment with this movie is that there were too many plots going on, too many potholes they glossed over, and it felt very rushed. In the first movie I feel like it all came together but this one didn't. I'm also disappointed Beeltejuice and Lydia didn't work together when saving Astrid but I guess they wanted her to have a father/mother/daughter moment.

Astrid & Jeremony

I was fully expecting to hate Astrid but I liked her. She's very stuck up in the beginning but changes later on. She loves her mother but thought she was scam artist but she had good reasons. Hated it when she pointed out that Beetlejuice's contract was void and I was like girl shut the fuck up but at the same time I don't blame her for trying to save her mama from Beeltejuice. Her crush on Jeremy was good and I liked that story line (AHS Murder House vibe) but again it was too rushed. I loved the fact that Beetlejuice stopped him before he can get his card stamped.

Delia & Charles

I enjoyed Delia a lot. She was so much fun and totally would've acted that way if Charles died. I'm glad they didn't just forget about the character Charles because the actor is a disgusting pedo. The character should be separated from the actor. It was pretty clever how they went about it to honor the character and not the asshole. Tim Burton has a lot of balls for that.

Delores & Rory

I loved Delores' introduction but that's it. All she did was look for Beetlejuice and suck souls. Also her story line was way too quick. I was fully expecting to ship her and Beetlejuice but nope. Rory was a good villain but his story line also felt very rushed. It's interesting how Beeltejuice's former wife and Lydia's former fiance died together at their wedding....it's totally not baiting Lydia and Beeltejuice shippers (sarcasm).

Lydia

I loved Lydia too and I can totally see her being easily manipulated but why Rory? At least in the first movie she had a great reason to accept Beetlejuice's offer. Also I feel like Lydia wasn't weird enough and I get it people grow up but still she didn't feel like the same Lydia. I like that she was a supernatural TV host/ghost hunter but I feel like Winona is right that Lydia would been a spinster in the attic. It's funny to me how Lydia mentioned their 600 year age gap but I bet the weird Lydia from the first movie totally would've married a vampire or a zombie.

Beeltejuice

I loved Beeltejuice but he wasn't the star of the show like he was in the last movie. I honestly think he wants to marry Lydia instead of finding someone else to marry because he fell for her over the years but she also got away from their agreement (but then again he didn't seem mad about it). I was hoping Lydia would realize Beetlejuice actually likes her and be grossed out by it. Also there's the fact that he wasn't as pervy like he was in the first movie. I mean he looked at Delia up and down but it's not very bad compared to what he did in the first movie. The Maitlands influenced Beeltejuice because he did a musical number instead of quickly marrying Lydia like he tried to do in the first movie. If he wasn't f*cking around he would've gotten his bride. Maybe he was a bit too confident because this time he had a contract which he was very smart for doing. Did anyone notice he kissed Lydia's hand? I didn't expect that from Beetlejuice. I thought was gonna forcefully kiss her like he did to Barbra but no he was dare I say a gentlemen. Not only did he save Astrid but he exposed Rory to Lydia and he didn't even have to do that because he already had his marriage contract. I'm surprised they didn't try to de-age Michael Keaton in the flashback and it would totally make sense because Beeltejuice did look younger in the first movie but I guess they didn't wanna use too much CGI.

Bob

I loved Bob. He was very funny so I was very sad when Delores killed him. Not sure if he was the same shrunken head from the first movie but I personally don't think he is. He looks too different. Would be funny if all the shrunken heads were the football players.

Potholes & The Maitlands

I hate that they didn't talk about how people who committed suicide become civil servants like it was said in the first movie. They basically erased it because Astrid's dad is working in the Netherworld when he died in the Amazon and Beetlejuice was murdered. The only clue was in the newspaper that I pointed out days ago how workers were wrongfully assigned a suicide and the case workers are on strike. I think that would've been a more interesting story line for Beetlejuice. It would explain why he wants out so badly but I guess Burton didn't want us to feel sympathy for him or make him too deep. What was the damn loophole the Maitlands had? I hate that they didn't even try to explain. I think it would've been sweet if it was Lydia who helped them find a loophole so they can move on after she moved out of the house. Like a parting gift to her parents.

Wolf Jackson

The Wolf Jackson character wasn't all that interesting. To make him more interesting I think it would've been cool if Astrid was a fan of his movies. I think he started working in the afterlife because of the strike so they took whoever they can get even if it's an actor.

The Baby

Also that Baby Beeltejuice was so weird! I loved it! When Lyis Belly started growing I was like holy sh*t is he trying to hint that he wants her to have his babies?! lmao I don't remember the movie being this bloody! The ending was confusing at first but clever because it's basically saying he hasn't given up on Lydia and will continue to haunt her until she's his bride. Also why can't Lydia have her show and still be part of her daughter's life? I hate that she gave it up. I think it would've been nicer if Astrid started working with her. Like a mother daughter ghost show since Astrid can see ghosts too.

Well that's my review. I hope I didn't complain too much because I actually did enjoy the movie. I want to be positive but I always end up writing something to complain about.

[frociaggine]

@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:

the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages

Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided

He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)

For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake

In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.

Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free

After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT

he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.

he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)

the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.

I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days

#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue

Here's some homoeroticism:

#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing

He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.

Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.

#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#

I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home

They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.

Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.

Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.

Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.

Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.

#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT

As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.

Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny

[maddilynmuse]

Two Stars

Chapter 1/Prologue

Heya guys! Once more, I am going feral over In Stars and Time and making fanfic. I intend to at least finish Bared Teeth and Open Hands before jumping into anything big, buuuuut this fun little plot bunny hit and I just HAD to get it out.

I meant for this to be funny but oops my hand slipped and there’s an enby crying now.

That said! Post game and 2hat spoilers below! Read at thine own risk! Enjoy~

Now available on AO3

Next >

Loop and Siffrin get Freaky Friday’d.

*~*~*~*

“I wish that Loop could be themselves with us, I wish Loop could be themselves with us, I wish Loop could be themselves with us…”

———

Something warm was pressed to their back, moving rhythmically, as something else wrapped securely around their front. The smell of sandalwood deodorant wasn’t quite enough to mask the scent of sweat, and for some reason that combination of stimulus was enough to make tears leak from their closed eye. The haziness of sleep was washed away in a heart-crushing wave of warmth.

Isabeau.

No, no. Not Isabeau. The Fighter. Isabeau, their Isabeau, was gone… right?

But somehow they were here.

They didn’t dare open their eye, afraid to break whatever fragile illusion was making their heart—heart, they had a heart!—twist in the best kind of pain: less like an injury, and more like stretching a long-sore muscle. It felt warm, right even. If only for that moment, they were loved, and seems they truly were still Siffrin at heart, greedily absorbing the comfort even when they didn’t even understand why they were receiving it. Was this a dream? Their own… world? (Was that how it worked? They’re pretty sure it wasn’t). Some peaceful afterlife? Maybe the Universe spun sugar for them, allowing a nice dream as they faded from existence, role finished.

Stop questioning it. Just enjoy.

“Sif…?” Mumbled a sleepy, wonderfully husky voice. “You okay buddy?” They were pulled a little closer. He was touching them. Willingly!

They meant to say something witty or clever, maybe a pun, anything disarming really! But what came out of their mouth—they had a mouth!—was a little sob.

The Fighter tried to pull his hand away, but they grabbed it reflexively. It couldn’t end, not yet! It was embarrassing, needy, taking advantage of his kindness, but they put his hand to their face, guiding it to stroke their cheek. Their eye rolled up at the sensation, the brush of skin against skin, the warmth, even the little beads of sweat. It was him.

He took over, thumb stroking their cheek, wiping away their tears, while his other fingers threaded into their hair—they had hair! Their breath caught, coming out in a shuddering, relieved sigh with only a hint of sobbing at the end. After so long with no contact, after so long stuck in that starry form, they were drunk on the sensations: the subtle pull of hair against their scalp, the in and out against their back, the way their own breath fell in the rhythm, the thrum of a heart in their chest, the grounded security of a strong arm, the smell of him, the sheer warmth.

It was dizzying, overwhelming, too much to think. They never wanted it to end.

“I’m here, buddy. It’s okay,” Isabeau crooned.

That broke whatever remained. They cried openly as the long-tangled barbed wire of stress and jealousy and loneliness that’d been choking their very soul finally snapped and left them free. Naked, unprotected, but free. And here, at least, they were safe.

“I love you.”

Caught up in the moment, Loop could pretend that was meant for them.

———

And back in Dormont, under the night-dark shade of the favor tree, Siffrin stared in quiet horror at the stars dotting what should’ve been his hands.

*-*-*

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[misstycloud]

How Yandere Clark would react if the reader wanted to mate with him, being her first time.

This is if reader immediately accepted him and decided to move in with him. Also if she had no negative feelings towards hybrid’s courting methods.

——-

“A-are you sure?” He stumbled over his words. He needed to be absolutely certain this was what you wanted. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re not sure of.”

Clark winced at the thought. He would hate to bring that sort of pain to his mate.

“Clark, for the last time, yes I’m sure.” You huffed. You’d tried to convince him to mate with you which had transformed him into a nervous wreck of a bear.

“S-sorry…..I’m just anxious since I don’t want you to get hurt. Especially not by me…” his form slugged as he entered a depressed state. “It’s stupid, I know.” The round ears atop his head folded down in shame and sadness.

You crawled closer to him and stroked his back. It must’ve looked funny- a small, weak human comforting a giant bear-man like a child.

“It’s not stupid, Clark. Come here.”

The hybrid inhaled deeply as you enveloped him in a hug. Or, as you tried. The difference in size made it a little difficult. Clark loved getting hugs from you. Specifically, he loved when you would massage his ears gently while embracing him.

One of the reasons where because he could breathe in your delicious scent, and the other was because he never received physical affection from anyone before. They’d all get scared and avoid him like the plague the moment they saw his monstrous form. He understood where they were coming from, though. So he didn’t blame them. But it still hurt.

You were so sweet to him! And he loved you so much. At first, he believed he’d be leading a lonely life until he died of old age. But then out of nowhere, you showed up and brought love into his life!

He is very sensitive to everything concerning you, which of why he freaked out when you asked to mate. Sure, you two had lived together for a couple of months now and he’s accidentally seen you naked once when you’d gotten out of the shower and was changing. But even that was enough to make him profusely apologise and hide under the blankets with a flushed face.

He knew you two would one day complete the mating, though he didn’t know it’d be so soon. The truth was, he was scared. Scared of hurting you in the process of something that’s supposed to be connecting two souls and bind them into one. Deep down, it was why he was in no rush to mate with you.

What if he crushed you under his weight while doing it? Your bones, so flimsy and feeble would easily break. Or what if you died of suffocation? The possibilities were hundreds.

“Clark, my teddy bear,” he glanced up to see your kind smile. “You don’t have to worry about me, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but since this is our f-first together I don’t want it to be a bad memory….”

You chuckled, “it defiantly won’t. You’re so sweet and gentle, there’s no way you’d hurt me.”

“But what if I accidentally-“

You grabbed his shin firmly, setting his widening eyes on you.

“Listen here, Clark. You are the most wonderful, adorable and cutest bear I’ve ever met. You are so nice to every soul you meet, even when they don’t treat you the best. There is no one sweeter to me than you and I love that about you. Clark, you are always so careful around me, it’s as if I’m made out of glass. But I’m not. So stop acting like I am. I need you to fuck me and finish this mating bond or we’ll dance around like this forever, and I’m not about that. You hear me?”

By the end of your speech, the man’s entire face was red with an awestruck expression. Did you just say all that? To him no less!

God, he’s one lucky bear. Being your mate is the best thing that’s happened to him.

A goofy smile graced his features, he giggled and said with a lustful glint in his eyes, “I’ll make you regret saying that. Be prepared, ‘cause we’re not leaving this apartment for a while.”

- 🐻

Yeah so mostly it’d just turn into a comfort session. Clark loves reader so much and he’s afraid of hurting her, even if it’s by accident! Poor baby!

This bear is simply just a nervous and overthinking wreck when it comes to reader.

Don’t be fooled though. There’s a lot of stamina and lust buried under all that sweetness. He’ll still be careful though, making sure reader is alright and prioritising her pleasure above his. It’s actually his first time as well, so he isn’t entire sure how to go about things, but he’s willing to learn his mate’s body.

Before he met reader. He wanted to know a thing or two about pleasuring your mate. So he typed that in the search engine and he had no idea there’s so much you can do.

Eventually, Clark being Clark, he had to turn it off. Then he went to hide in the bathroom out of embarrassment.

[sylviesoothsayer22]

Well-Matched - Chapter 6

Ipomoea quamoclit Part I

Summary:

My fault...

All my fault....

All my fault....

Wei Ying just wanted to get better.

WARNING: there's past!wangxian, Hua Cheng only shows up at the end, blood, dismembered body parts, disfigurement and death of a child. So, if this isn't your cup of tea, it's okay. You can come back next week for soft Huaxian moments if you prefer. WWX is in a really bad place this chapter.

If Wei Ying had a mouth, he would have screamed himself hoarse by now.

He was without a voice or body. A pathetic, helpless, shapeless mass of energy wholly at their mercy.

He could feel burning sensations all over his current form, almost as if he was being stabbed by countless red-hot needles. All he could do was writhe in agony, his spirit trying to pitifully squeeze between their fingers and escape, as clawed hands, pressed and condensed his fragile being, molding it like clay.

It hurts… Was all his thoughts could formulate.

Just a little longer, my lord…. They would assure.

Please do not leave us…

Let us help you….let us help you….

They were forcefully stitching his frayed spirit back together and imbuing it with demonic qi, Wei Ying would eventually realize.

Enough….just stop…. please ….

He should have had his very soul scattered and lose its chance at reincarnation.

It was no less than what he deserved.

“WEI WUXIAN!”

A feminine voice was calling out to him.

“I KNOW YOU’RE STILL THERE!”

Whose calling…?

“PLEASE!”

Blurred images flowed back into his mind.

He was in a cave.

There was a young girl around his age.

 A branding iron.

I know her…. I saved her….

“SHE NEEDS YOUR HELP!”

Who…?

Who could possibly ask for my help?

“WEI WUXIAN!”

Whose calling?! What was her name?!

Enough. He growled.

They didn’t listen and continued to crush him in their suffocating embrace.

“I SAID ENOUGH!” He roared.

The blood-pool they were hovering over suddenly boiled and glowed molten red. Bursting bubbles formed into countless sharp spikes that shot in every direction, hitting several wraiths in the process. The creatures let out loud, ear-piercing, shrieks akin to the damned. Their wails echoed all around the dank cave as they shrank and receded into the walls, out of their enraged master’s sight.

Gently, like a leaf separated from its branch and drifting down, his spirit descended onto the cave floor.

Feeling his senses slowly come back to him, Wei Wuxian cracked his eyes open, sat up on his knees and studied his hands.

They had now regained their human shape, but he could see right through them. His new form felt unstable, flickering in and out of existence. A candle light trying so desperately to keep burning on its little wick. 

Looking around for the person who called out to him, his eyes were attracted to movement within the blood-pool.

There were bodies floating up from the water’s depths.

The smallest one looked to be about three or four years old.

If he were capable of breathing, his lungs would have felt crushed from the sheer dread that coursed through his veins.

….no.

No.

Nononononononono-

Mind blank, Wei Ying crawled to what remained of his family.

He climbed into the thick pool of blood and human waste. Nostrils stinging from the smell of rusted iron and filth. Robes weighing him down as he wadded past mutilated carcasses, floating limbs, and decapitated heads. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a hint of familiar grey hair matted with crusted blood and free from its typical bun. The bones of the skull poking out of rotting flesh.

Wei Wuxian vacantly stared at (what he assumed) was Granny’s head, before continuing.

Finally, he reached the littlest corpse, carefully shook its shoulder and called out:

“A-Yuan….? What are you doing?” He barely registered the manic trace in his voice, the shaking, the overwhelming need to vomit. Like an infection, hysteria settled into his mind. Growing in magnitude the longer he kept talking .

“Come on, this isn’t funny.”

“You’ll catch a cold like this.”

“A-Yuan….? Baobei…?”

“Open your eyes. Please… ”

Eye.

He could only see one eye.

The other half of his face-

Oh gods…

His son’s face-

“You want some help? Here. Xian-ge will take care of it!”

Quivering hands hovered over the boy, Wei Wuxian tenderly wrapped his arms around the little one’s waist and pulled him up. He didn’t even lift him that far before his son fazed through Wei Ying’s flickering form. The child fell back into the pool, landing on top of another corpse with a sickening splash!

“I’m sorry!” He yelped, horrified.

“Here! Come here! I’ll get you out this time!”

He tried for the second time.

And a third and a fourth.

It was no use.

He couldn’t touch him. He couldn’t feel him.

Wei Ying collapsed back into the pool. Unable to do anything else, he settled the-the corpse onto his lap. Hugging him- it tightly and pressing the head against his cheek, he shivered.

Cold.

He shouldn’t be so cold.

How is A-Yuan going to warm himself up in heaven?

The least he could do was give them a proper burial and he couldn’t even do that much.

Unable to do anything else, he howled. Utterly gutted and enraged. Animalistic screams he didn’t know he was capable of ripped out of his throat. The cave walls cracking and crumbling as demonic energy gathered and lashed out in response to his grief.

My fault…

I’ll never forgive them…

All my fault…

WHO WAS IT?!

All my fault…

Someone needs to PAY!

Wei Ying snapped his eyes open, only to be met with darkness where he could hardly make out the cracked ceiling above him. Wiping away the last remains of his nightmare with his long sleeve, the ghost carefully rolled his head to the side and checked over the little one tucked against him, fast asleep.

He slowly reached out and gently traced A-Yuan’s features with the tips of his fingers, touch feather-light. Basking in the sense of contact.

He was careful not to brush against the wound that was on one side of A-Yuan’s face.

The injury that ultimately snuffed out his life.

Beneath the candlelight, Wei Wuxian could fool himself by believing that the colour of his son’s cheeks were still a hale and healthy pink.

With the slight shuffles A-Yuan made in his sleep, Wei Wuxian could pretend that the boy’s chest was still rising and falling.

By ignoring the last two years, Wei Wuxian could delude himself into thinking that A-Yuan had grown a few inches, as if his little one isn’t currently frozen at the tender age of four.

A bittersweet expression would cross Granny’s face every time it was her turn to tuck A-Yuan into bed.

They’re supposed to grow like weeds at this point. She would sigh.

He could feel a fresh wave of tears building up. A traitorous sob managed to escape past his lips. Sensing movement, Wei Ying quickly clamped a hand over his mouth and laid still. Glassy eyes took in the little body twitching and curling up even tighter against the man before finally relaxing again.

If Wei Ying felt more like himself, he would’ve joked that his son was making his best turtle-impression.

Instead, he slowly reached out for the discarded stuffed bunny lying on the side. Wei Wuxian carefully switched positions with the toy, watching as A-Yuan instinctively curled his arms in a vice-like grip once the stuffing was within his reach. He waited for a few more moments to see if his son would wake, then tenderly kissed the little forehead.

The young ghost slipped out of the bed and quietly left the room.

Exiting the inn he was temporarily staying at, Wei Wuxian took a turn to the left and continued on his way.

Where was he going? He didn’t know.

He just knew it had to be far away from worried eyes.

Wei Wuxian took extra care to duck behind walls and into alleyways whenever he heard a ghost passing by. He could just imagine what they would think if they saw him in this state:

Isn’t that Black Flute? The guy seems a little out of it, don’t ya think?

That’s the new Calamity? Why does he look like shit?

Why are his eyes red? Was he crying ?! Did this wannabe Ghost King actually cry?!

He didn’t need those words to go back to the Wens. They had enough on their plate, thank you very much.

He didn’t stop until the hollers from Ghost Market quieted to a dull roar, till the smoothed-down path beneath his feet had turned uneven with rocks and tree roots, till the moon and stars decorating the sky were hidden behind leaves and foliage.

This seemed like a decent enough spot.

Good. His legs had already started shaking.

Wei Ying leaned against the nearest tree and slid down to the cold ground. Too tired to hold up his weight anymore.

Just a bit of rest and he’ll be right as rain soon. He told himself.

Sounds of crying echoed throughout the forest. Miserable sobs that spelled out one’s crushing defeat with every whimper. Wei Ying whipped his head in both directions, trying to locate the source.

It took him a few seconds to register that they were coming from him.

Wait, that’s not supposed to happen.

The shaking had expanded until he was trembling head-to-toe. 

Stop it.

He slapped himself, squeezed his thighs, pinched his biceps, all to the point of bruising himself. Anything. Anything to get these dramatics to stop .

Mucus had pooled into his nose and dripped out of his nostrils; he couldn’t breathe.

In the past two years since he died, Wei Wuxian had made sure to thoroughly distract himself so that he wouldn’t turn out like this. How could he protect the Wens if he kept having these-these moments of madness?

Wei Ying was forced to inhale through his mouth, which somehow made it worse .

His face felt wet and hot, he couldn’t even make out his own hands. A wave of panic had settled into his mind.

Stop crying.

It accomplished nothing and would only leave him with a headache afterwards.

Just stop….!

It wouldn’t stop.

The sobs had taken on a hysterical note to them and morphed into wails that could only come from a wounded animal.

Wei Ying curled into himself, just waiting for this episode to pass on its own.

Oh, I see. It’s because they’re Wen dogs, and Wen dogs aren’t human. So, killing them doesn’t count – that’s what you all meant, right?

You’re very brave. Are you threatening me?

I swear on my name, they’ll never hurt you ever again. I’ll keep you all safe!

Where did all that arrogance come from?

You were just trying to do what was right. Unlike them .

What made him think that he could protect anyone?

They did this. Not you.

In my attempt to make things better, I somehow made it worse.

But they hurt them! They killed A-Yuan!

I promised to keep you all safe and I broke it in the cruelest way possible.

Are you just going to let them walk freely?! No punishment for the needless deaths on their part?!

“But I’m the one who started it!” He choked out.

Wei Ying clawed at his face. Pulling at the tender meat of his cheeks until he drew blood.

I don’t even know why they’re all still following me. How could they trust me after proving what a colossal failure I am?

His mind wanted to shift the blame both on himself and those hypocrites who put him and the Wens in this situation.

Who is ultimately responsible? The Yiling Lazou or the sects? The answers shifted back and forth like a meandering game of cuju. Exhausting and inconclusive.

You need to let it go. His mind would eventually say, once he’d tired himself out.

But he didn’t know how.

I don’t know what to do.

Someone, please tell me what I need to do!

Soft tugs from the top of Wei Ying’s head pierced through the fog of self-doubt.

It seemed that he’d been stuck in his own mind for so long that he caused his little companions to worry.

“I’m alright.” He whispered softly to the fireflies currently flittering above him, lights fluctuating with concern. His elbows tickled as more of them floated out of his sleeves, disturbed from their slumber the moment they felt their master’s distress.

“ I’m alright. ” He insisted and showed them his hand “See? The shaking stopped.”

Wei Ying gently tugged the strands of his hair out of the worried creatures’ grasp. They continued buzzing around his head, some nestling themselves against his wounded cheeks, trying to get rid of the blood.

“It’ll heal soon.” He assured, while gently waving them off. Wei Ying stood up, wobbling slightly as he did so, and slowly pulled out a familiar black flute.

He stared at Chenqing for a few moments. Despite all the hardships he and the flute went through, it had somehow still maintained its original form. Still retained the same black shade as all the other corrupted bamboos back at the Mounds. The instrument’s body remained unchanged, not a single scratch or blemish in sight.

The only difference was that the jade token he’d meticulously crafted was long gone. All that was left was a frayed red string pitifully swaying against the night breeze.

Deciding to distract himself, Wei Ying took a steadying breath, placed the flute onto his lips and played.

It was a song that he memorised by heart, though for the life of him, he could not recall where he heard it from or if it even had a name. Wei Ying can only say that this song brought him comfort, accompanied by a bittersweetness that just wouldn’t stop nibbling at the back of his mind.

It reminded him of cool, still waters, of breathtaking views only seen through mountainsides, of fresh winds that cleanse the lungs with a single breath, of the sense of safety at the sight of soft blue skies, of roiling clouds that add a touch of tranquillity once spotted, of the steady sounds of guqin strings humming and lulling its listeners to a dreamless sleep…

Wei Ying felt his little companions gradually stop buzzing and nest back into his sleeves. He allowed his shoulders to relax some as he carried the song to its end.

After the final note faded into the wind, Wei Ying took a moment to collect himself, wiping away the fresh tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Great. Now he was crying for a different reason….

The silence was broken by a soft clink-clinking sound resonating throughout the forest. Enrapturing and pleasant to the ear.

A familiar, yet undeniably deeper, voice called out:

“A lovely song. May this one know its name?”

Note 1: Cuju or Ts'u-chü (蹴鞠): the ancient Chinese ball game that's similar to football. WWX is basically saying there's nonstop back-and-forth blame-shifting going on in his head that's akin to a ball game that never ends.

Note 2: Ipomoea quamoclit or cypress vine flower, was a popular option to decorate one's grave with in the Victorian times. So, it could easily symbolize grief and sorrow. But in Chinese culture, the flower also means restricted and unrequited love, (which I think is perfect considering how the Wangxian ship went in this verse) among other meanings.

Hope ya liked the new chapter. If you did, please be sure to drop a like/comment!

[stellarboystyles]

hiiii hope you’re well! Will we ever get a part 2 to right where you left me?? That cliffhanger gets me on edge every time I re read it lol

Harry's never endured a more torturously long trip inside a vehicle quite like this ambulance ride. The hospital was 5 bloody minutes out and it felt like fifty, clutching his wife's hand like it was the last time he ever could where she was clutching back. He'll never forget the look in her eyes that night.

"I don't wanna die."

Her cries crushed his soul. The look on her face and the quivering in her voice was enough send him into a coma. We're talking about the girl that Harry knew he was going to marry by the middle of their second date.

"M'gonna marry you."

Nora hides a giggle behind the wine glass in her hand.

"You're drunk."

When people ask Harry when he knew she was the one, he tells this story every time.

Seeing this gorgeous girl—who's warm and kind and...real, tipsy off some cheap wine and giggling at his jokes that he knows aren't really that funny at all—was unbelievable to him.

"M'not drunk, m'serious." Harry scoffs playfully, waving his hand dismissively. "And maybe a little drunk, but that's not even relevant."

"Mhm." she nods, trying to stifle another laugh. "We'll see if your mind changes in the morning."

The eye contact between the two of them never stifled, a defining moment for Nora and Harry. It was a scene out of a Netflix original. John B and Sarah Cameron level shit.

"It won't."

The girl he used to take on secret sushi dates away from any cameras.

“I’ve never met someone who likes poke as much as I do.”

“My mom grew up in China, so this is what I grew up eating.” She laughs.

“I thought sushi was from Japan?”

Nora giggles, giving Harry the impression that he just fucked up royally.

“M’sorry—”

“Harry, didn’t you know that sushi actually originated in China?”

“I—I didn’t.”

“No one really does.” she giggles. “It’s ok.”

“See, when we get married,” she starts, making Harry nearly choke on his water as she’s nonchalantly picking up another sashimi with her chopsticks. “I can make you any kind of sushi you want, like a pro.”

He’s in awe of her. Her charm and her wit, it’s something you can’t fake and he can’t stop smiling.

“Mm, can’t wait.”

The girl that said “okay?!” when he proposed.

The girl that pulled all the strings to make his birthday special during quarantine.

The girl who went to every show of his that she could to support him.

The girl that makes him homemade gifts because she knows they mean more to him that some $11k pair of Gucci boots.

That girl. His forever. His baby. The one he could never live without, even if he tried.

“We’re going to Trauma One.”

“Page OB.”

“Can we get Respiratory in here, please?!”

Harry waits in the waiting room for an eternity. He’s either sitting down in one of the chairs bouncing his leg or pacing back and forth to pass the time. Finally, the door from the waiting room to the ER buzzes open and Harry pushes himself out of the chair to meet the nurse that’s walking out. He knows she’s out here for him, the hospital was a ghost town tonight. No one in the waiting room but him.

“Are you husband?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“What’s her name and birthday?”

“Nora Styles, 1/16/97.”

“Alright, she's up in OB now, 3rd floor. I'll walk you up.”

He’s walking with the nurse as she begins filling him in.

“She's stable now, mum and baby's oxygen levels and heart rate are normal, but her blood pressure is very high, too high for us to be comfortable with letting this go, so the doctor will probably want an emergency c-section.”

The nurse took notice of the worry on Harry's face and attempted to put him at ease.

"It sounds scary, but their number one priority is a healthy and happy mom and baby. And in this case that means getting your baby out as soon as possible."

They reach the unit doors, and she buzzes him in.

"She's in 14B, just down that hall and her room is on the left."

Harry thanks her again and hurries down the hall. His nerves spike approaching the door.

He was almost afraid to see her. He'll never get that image out of his head. Her laying on the fucking pavement, all bloodied and bruised. Probably a scene that could haunt him forever.

“Love?”

Slowly walking in, he sees his wife asleep on the bed. Her arm is bruised pretty badly, marked with purplish blue bruises on her hand.

“Oh, babe.”

He sits down in the chair next to her, and takes her hand in his.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He whispers, kissing her hand before the tears start rolling.

“I love you so much.”

He’s choking back cries, and tilts his head towards the ceiling.

“Don’t let her fucking die, please.”

to be continued

[tillichan]

𖢻 Gem Affection for @hidden-oracle 𖢻

Happy Birthday, my dear Ori! (づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ I'm very happy to be your mutual and your friend! You are so kind, talented and precious person! I always have a lot of fun talking to you, discussing our exchanges and other things! I wish you happiness, a lot of inspiration and all the best! Please, stay safe and happy and hope you enjoy this tiny birthday fic I did for you!

𖢻 Agate. Love Triangle with Edogawa Ranpo and Nakahara Chuuya.

❥︎ The both of them have a big crush on you. The only difference is that Chuuya is fully aware of his feelings, but Ranpo has not yet realized it. And that's why Chuuya made the first move and confessed you, leaving Ranpo behind.

❥︎ Chuuya suspected, no, he knew about Ranpo's feelings. He gave Ranpo a death stare every time Edogawa came to your bar to talk to you and have a milkshake. Chuuya's hands opened and closed as he looked at him singing the praises of your skill. Chuuya has always considered himself not a jealous person, but this situation made him seethe with jealousy. He didn't make a scene, he had no right to do that. After all, he wasn't your boyfriend, he was just a friend. But sometimes, for the briefest moment, Chuuya allowed himself to cast a disdainful glance at Ranpo when he had to leave a bar to get back to his work. The way Chuuya was the one who stayed with you filled him with joy. It was embarrassing to admit, Chuuya felt himself a schoolboy who is head over heels with his first crush. And, even worse, it wasn't far from the truth.

❥︎ On the other hand, Ranpo just enjoyed your presence and the most delicious milkshake in the world you did for him. Talking to you, asking you about your ability, drinking ramune together, oh, how fun it was. Ranpo always bought a couple of bottles of ramune when he went to you, thereby surprising his colleagues. This Ranpo-san shares his ramune with someone? He definetely was in love.

❥︎ Funny enough that Ranpo knew about Chuuya's crush on you, but didn't recognize his own feelings. But in those moments when his heart fluttered at the thought of the upcoming meeting with you, Ranpo was vaguely aware of the fact that his feelings for you is something more than he felt about his colleagues or Fukuzawa, a person he admired the most. And while he was doing some soul searching, Chuuya already courted you.

❥︎ Ranpo realized his feelings too late, when you has already started dating Chuuya. He is not going to confess or show you his feelings. He sees how happy you are, how much in love with each other you and Chuuya are, who is he to break it. But it doesn't mean that Ranpo stopped talking to you. He still comes to your bar from time to time and annoys Chuuya, he protects you too. God forbid if someone hurt you, Ranpo would find a way to save you.

𖢻 Onyx. Changing the story and characters.

❥︎ You don't really influence the course of events, but your calm and supportive personality changed the lives of your friends and loved ones for the better. They are so happy to have you, to have a safe and comfortable place they want to go back to, the place they can call home. And this place is your bar, you to be exact. You make their day better and help them to go through all the difficulties and disappointments. They are eternally grateful to have you by their side.

❥︎ Especially Port Mafia. They spend all day at your bar talking to you, rambling and complaining about their colleagues and just having some rest from hectic life. Because of you Ryuunosuke and Chuuya became calmer and more restrained when it comes to Dazai. Akutagawa admires you, slowly but surely, he started to consider you a friend, at least he listens to your opinion. Whenever Osamu messes with Ryuunosuke which leads to him cultivating a tree from shrimps, you are always there to assure him that it's not true. Chuuya is in love with you. And even though Osamu pisses him off as always, he doesn't show it because he wants to look cool in your eyes. Osamu himself was not so sure that he really wanted to leave Port Mafia, and you were the reason. Beside Odasaku, you were the only person Osamu felt at ease with. Being a member of Agency, Osamu still treasures you and comes to see you from time to time.

❥︎ Even though you failed to save Odasaku, you rescued the children he looked after. You read a mind of a kidnaper by chance and could warn Odasaku about them. This is how by working together you two were able to prevent the kidnapping. Nowadays, you often visit the children bringing them some sweets and gifts.

𖢻 Rhodolite. Relationships with Tetchou Suehiro, Saigiku Jouno, Edgar Allan Poe, Izumi Kyoka.

Tetchou Suehiro

❥︎ You've known Tetchou long before Sunday Tragedy incident. One day, he showed up at your bar and ordered a chocolate milkshake topped with soy sauce. You were very surprised but honoured his request. And since that day, Tetchou started visiting you more and more often. He liked the way how sweet and welcoming, but also honest you were. Talking to you was so easy, even the silence brought comfort. There was something about you that made Tetchou want to protect you. And not only this. Tetchou often found himself thinking about you. Your hands were so small in comparison with his, what if he holds it? Oh, it was such a tempting idea, but why would he even think of doing something like that?

❥︎ Luckily the answer came by itself. Thanks to Jouno to be exact. When the both of them came to your bar, Jouno noticed that Tetchou's heart is beating especially loud today. And following his attention fixed on you, Saigiku understood the reason for Tetchou's odd behavior. He was in love with you but too dense to realize it. And unfortunately you didn't like him back. Even though Saigiku fought the urge to tease Suehiro about it, he left it as it was. Maybe it'd be better for him to stay oblivious.

❥︎ Tetchou still is very attached to you. He comes to you often, drinks his cocktails and shakes and watches you in awe, his eyes are always on you. And maybe one day he'll realize his crush on you.

Saigiku Jouno

❥︎ Saigiku remembered you as a girl Tetchou has a crush on, not more, not less. He has only met you once and was sure he'll never meet you again, but he was wrong. During Sunday Tragedy incident, some of Agency members were hiding at your bar. So Saigiku and Suehiro got there tracking them. He was determined to conduct the interrogation, but a miracle happened. Somehow Suehiro believed you when you told them that Agency is innocent of the charges filed against them. And Saigiku believed too, you weren't lying, you told them truth. He knew that you were nervous, that you were scared, but you were honest. You asked them to investigate it again, and Jouno couldn't help but started admiring your braveness.

❥︎ Since then, Saigiku became a regular at your bar. He likes a comforting aura you radiate, that you are calm and dislike loud noises and overpowering smells just like he does. He finds an unbelievable peace in your presence. Sitting at the table with a cup of tea, he recharges and enjoys a quiet moment of a peaceful life.

❥︎ Knowing about Tetchou's feelings for you, Saigiku isn't going to do anything about it. Not gonna lie, he thinks that Suehiro would be a better significant other for you than Chuuya, a member of Port Mafia. You deserve calm and peaceful life with a good person. But who was he to judge? A former member of mafia. But just know, that Saigiku treasures you as much as your friends do and he is always ready to stand up for you.

Edgar Allan Poe

❥︎ You and Poe are a very good friends. The two of you met thanks to Ranpo, and even though you two were a bit silent and awkward around each other at first, after a while you two became a friends. Ranpo and Karl helped to break the ice between you and Poe. Edogawa chatted non-stop and Karl was sitting on your lap asking for pats. And as soon as you and Poe warmed up to each other, the friendship blossomed between you two.

❥︎ Poe likes coming to you to talk to you and let you read his new novel or just share a new idea. Your knowledge in the field of myths and legends helps him to create the new stories. As soon as Poe found out that your hobby is writing, he was very excited to read your stories. He is a very supportive friend who gets shyly hyped whatever you do. You wrote a new story? This story is so cool, much better than his. You can draw too? How one person can be so talented? You know how to dance and do it so well? Sorry, Poe.exe stopped working because his friend is so damn amazing. But he also likes that you support him back by reading his books and giving him a sincere feedback.

❥︎ Not only Poe but also Karl adores you a lot. This fluffy raccoon can't live without your pats and snacks you prepare for him. Whenever Poe and Karl hang out at your bar, Karl is always with you and refuses to leave your side.

Izumi Kyoka

❥︎ To her you are a family. Kyoka likes you a lot, more than Kouyou, more than Agency members, even more than Atsushi. You were the first person who was kind to her. You prepared a milkshake for her decorated by a cute rabbits. And even though you weren't really talkative, you always took care of her, looked after her. And it made Kyoka warm up to you. She loved you as much as her family.

❥︎ This little girl is very protective when it comes to you. A single word from you, and she will send all your enemies to hell. Almost funny how Kyoka turns from an adorable girl who asks you to go watch rabbits together to killing machine every time you're in danger.

❥︎ The two of you rarely meet each other, especially nowadays, because she joined Agency, but she comes to you from time to time. The both of you like cute things, she agrees with you whenever you call non-cute things cute, especially monsters. Even though you two are not similar in appearance, you and Kyoka look like a sisters together. And whenever Chuuya sees how you take care of her, he gets a tiny, or not so tiny, baby fever.

𖢻 Peridot. Aesthetic.

taku iwasaki - dear prince

wiping the dishes and watching your bar patrons with a smile. pink and black. non-cute cute things. reading books wrapped in a blanket and sitting in a chair. magic everywhere. soft plushies. admiring a night sky. aesthetic drinks. fried chicken. protecting your loved ones with your life. a safe place for everyone. support and understanding. scarlet red. having the most dangerous people in Yokohama wrapped around your finger. a treasure of port mafia. calm and peaceful bar. listening to the ramblings of your friends. going on the dates with Chuuya. drinking ramune with Ranpo. a beautiful bouquet of 101 multi-colored roses. going shopping with Mori and Elise.

[creative-heart]

"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter three: “Until I found her.”

Lucia’s notes: I really do apologize in advance if this chapter is a bit slower or not as thrilling as the previous ones, but I kinda needed to give our sweet Kuku some more space to be himself in all his feels, some sad and piny, some more steamy and shmexy.  I promise things will start picking up on the next chapter, which is actually, coming this Friday. @Y/IG/UN stands for Your instagram username. As usual, please let me know if I've let any mistakes get through

Playlist:

Apocalypse- Cigarettes after sex.

What a time- Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

Until I found you- Stephen Sanchez

The show- Niall Horan

Content Warning: This chapter is just basically from Kuku’s POV, lots of internal monologue and him pining over reader, basically him being quite an angsty mess for a bit. Brief, mild thoughts of sexy stuff, nothing too graphic, but if you do not want to read it, you can stop reading at “Every time kuku looked at Y/N…” after the first cut. 

Word Count: 2kish

Kuku’s POV:

Esteban had never been one to envy what others had, even since he was a little boy, he had always been a generous, kind soul. He also really couldn’t complain about what life had sent his way, not that he hadn’t worked his ass off to get to where he was now, he knew all the success was much deserved. Why couldn’t he stop feeling so mad about Lucas being in a relationship with Y/N then?, why couldn’t he shake the feeling of his friend not being deserving of such a woman?. It was obvious she was way too good for him, she was not only one of the most gorgeous women kuku had ever met, but since the moment he first laid eyes on her, the hazel eyed woman had wooed him. She was so funny, so witty, her laughter so melodious and bright it could light up a whole room. He couldn’t keep lying, not to himself at least, he had the most raging crush on his best friend’s girlfriend.

Since the night of his coming home party, all he could think about was that beautiful woman every second he was awake and every single one of his dreams dominated by her face, the way his name sounded on her voice, the ever so slight lisp when she pronounced his whole name- which made it all that more adorable-. They may not have known eachother for that long, but sometimes it doesn’t take that much time to see the chemistry with someone, he knew it was there; and it saddened him so much to see how much she dulled herself when she was next to her boyfriend. Y/N was no doubts about it, as brilliant and talented as she was beautiful and sexy, he had confirmed that when he found her photography online. She could very well be making a living off of that, why did Lucas hide her away from the world was something he couldn’t grasp. If he were lucky enough to be her boyfriend, he’d brag about her nonstop to anyone who would listen.

~~~~~

Conversation with Y/N was so easy as well, ever since they started texting and talking on the phone every night he had confirmed, that she was just all the more interesting than he had phatomed on their first encounter. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about and when those rare moments came about, silence was so comfortable it felt as if they knew eachother since forever. They had agreed to meet at the park near his place on a Wednesday afternoon, and he felt as nervous as he did when he went on his first date, or when he had his first ever audition. He remembered Y/N had said she loved Hazelnut caramel lattes one of the times they were chatting, so he made sure to grab two coffees when he headed to their not date date. Esteban took a deep breath as he saw the blonde girl sitting crosslegged on the grass picking at it absentmindedly and walked over to her, placing the to go cup in front of her face “penny for your thoughts sugar?” the freckled man said softly sitting down across from her.

As she took the cup taking a sip and smiled like a little girl who just got the doll she’s been waiting for for so long. “Hazelnut caramel latte, you remembered?” she said almost as if she expected him not to, it was the least he could do, -did Lucas really pay that little attention to her?-  he thought as he took a sip from his beverage looking at her as if he were trying to memorize every single detail on her face; some people are so lucky they don’t even realize what they have don’t they?, all he knew, was that he could look at Y/N and listen to her talk all day. There was something really special about the way her face and specially those eyes lit up whenever she talked about something she was passionate about. Every time kuku looked at Y/N; all he could think about was how her lips would taste, how soft they’d feel against his; he was sure her skin was as warm and silky as it looked, kuku wanted to trace his fingers along every single inch of her skin, feel the goosebumps underneath his fingertips as he discovered the more tender spots on it. If he were to ever be given the chance to hear his name come out of her luscious lips in a breathy moan, he was sure he would collapse on the spot, in fact it was all he had been thinking about since that night at his parents house.

When Y/N handed him her camera and instructed him to find whatever on that park that inspired him, that made him want to take a picture of, all he wanted to do was point it at her, he could take a million and one pictures of that woman and never grow tired. He decided against it though- he thought he could feel something there from her part as well, but he didn’t want to ruin it if he was wrong- instead, he looked around and found a little girl playing with a dog and aimed the lens towards them; just as he was trying to get the camera focused, he felt the younger’s light breath on the side of his neck and her scent was so intoxicatingly sweet, she smelled like orchids and jasmines, it was the best smell he had ever come across and it fitted her so well, and he could her hear talking, but kuku couldn’t really focus on one single word she was saying. Having her so close to him made his heart race and he could feel the warmth inside him grow, he needed to be this close to Y/N all the time.  “And now, once you’ve found what you like, you hold yourself still, and press the button”- You, I like you Y/N so very much- he thought as he could catch her looking at him through the corner of his eyes before snapping the picture.

As kuku stepped into the elevator of his apartment building he couldn’t erase that stupid boyish smile from his lips, he was absolutely smitten, lost, taken, he was gone, there was not even a good enough reason to deny that he was falling head over heels for Y/N, and it pained him so to see a woman such as her, wilting away and dimming her light to fit next to someone like Lucas, she deserved so much better. Esteban took his phone out of his pocket at the chime of a new text coming through, a grin drew on his face as soon as he saw the contact name on the bubble and opened them.

Y/N/N 🤞:This way, you can go back to these later on, when you want to check your first work ;) 

Y/N/N 🤞: I had a really good time today by the way, thank you, I really needed to get out of my place, those walls can get trapping.

Y/N had sent him the pictures they had taken that afternoon, when had she managed to take that picture of him with his sunglasses on was a mystery.

Kuku 🤭: thanks for the pictures, and I’m also glad that I could help you feel better, always happy to help a damsel in distress 🤭 

Esteban mentally cursed at himself for that supid reply and kept going trough the several pictures she had sent; laughing at a couple where they just got to playing around and decided to post them to his Instagram profile “park shenanigans @Y/IG/UN”. He sighed happily and walked into his place, grabbing a quick snack before going to take a long hot shower, he just needed to get himself together, what was happening wasn’t right. Even if he could tell Lucas didn’t make Y/N happy, even if he knew she deserved better, if he knew he could treat her better, it wasn’t right to be doing what he was doing, and thinking what he was thinking about with her. He either needed to stop and get his act together, or he needed to make his intentions clear to her. After what seemed like ages, and finding himself standing under now cold water, he got out and let himself fall onto his bed staring at the ceiling.

~~~~~

A few days had gone by and Esteban hadn’t heard another word from Y/N that was weird, had something happened at the park the other day? had he done something wrong?. He looked at his phone, nothing, no new posts on Instagram nor any missed texts or calls from her, that was weird, they had gotten into the habit of talking to eachother on a daily basis. He decided to text her and make sure she was alright.

Kuku 🤭: Hey Y/N/N, hope everything’s okay, haven’t heard from you in a while and was getting worried, if you need anything, please let me know. 😚

He put his phone down again seeing no reply from her, not even a confirmation of her reading the text. Kuku decided to get ready and go over to Matias’ house, he texted him on his way over. 

Kuku: Mati, I’m on my way to your place with a bottle of wine, I really hope you’re free tonight.

The younger man looked at his phone, knowing something must be going on if his friend was coming over unannounced, and asked his girlfriend Male to give them some space and time for a guys night before replying.

Mati: Well, Male just went out with friends, how bad is it? Do I need to rally the troops? cause I can always text Fran and Agus at least. Lemme know.

He didn’t even wait for the elder’s response, he sent a quick S.O.S text to the others and soon enough they were all at his place. Not long after they were all there, wine was flowing around, so were the laughs and silly jokes until Fran perked up a bit and looked at his freckled face friend “okay, what was the S.O.S text Mati sent about Kuku? spill darling.”

Esteban looked up at the blond sat across from him, and took a deep breath letting it out in a heavy sigh before downing his glass and getting a new one. “you got time?” he looked around a humorless chuckle getting past his lips as the others just looked at him; “okay, so remember the party my childhood friends threw for me a few weeks ago?” at the nod from the rest he continued “well.. there was a girl there…Y/N”.

“The one from your lovey dovey pictures on IG” Agus added on “you two dating?”

Kuku shook his head huffing “wish it was that easy bro, no, she’s dating my childhood best friend, I know she’s absolutely unhappy, I’m sure he’s a douche to her to say the least, and she’s so incredible, she’s not only gorgeous, but smart, sweet, witty, charming, talented, dude, she’s perfect, she literally is pretty much perfect, and I just can’t get her off my mind, and I wish there was something I could do to make her realize that Lucas, my friend, doesn’t deserve to be next to her and for her to finally leave him. He’s shutting her off so much, she’s wilting next to him”  he rambled on for a while about the whole situation and ended up with a small shrug of his shoulders while he downed his drink again. 

The boys looked at eachother. “Have you tried telling her how you feel?” Mati said as if it were the most obvious next step, and he was right, it was the obvious next step, that’s what he needed to do, and he was gonna do it, he needed to get together with Y/N again and tell her everything that had been going on in his mind.

Taglist:

@madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

[heytherejulia]

It's nice to have a friend ~ Polin

pairing: modern!penelope featherington x modern!colin bridgerton

warning: some swearing, sexual innuendos, fat shaming, shitty mother, usual bridgerton chaos, insomnia, insecurities

summary: a walk through colin and penelope's relationship based on it's nice to have a friend by mother, doctor, taylor allison swift

word count: 2,9k

Penelope Featherington was walking home after a long day at the university and her only company was the ringing bell of the nearby primary school. January didn’t treat London nicely this year and everything around her was completely covered in white fluff. She was barely able to see a chalk drawing on a sidewalk as it was also covered in thin layer of snow. She smiled to herself when she realised that three little people were drawn on the pavement and signed “me and my best friends”. She thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. She’d never been very sentimental about stuff like that but today she felt like she might actually cry because of how freaking cute that was. 

She regained her composure when she felt a piercing cold air on her bare fingers. She put her hands into the pockets of her coat only to realise that she lost her gloves, and it was freezing outside, and she still had at least half a kilometre walk to her flat. 

‘Awesome,’ she muttered under her breath.

Penelope felt a tap on her shoulder and she thought her soul had just left her body for good. She didn’t have time to reach for pepper spray nor was she half a decent runner to escape the intruder. She waited for the inevitable when a person revealed his face. It was only Colin. Her life long crush, Colin. Her best friend’s brother, Colin. Her best friend too, if she let herself be bold enough to assume so. 

‘Hello, Pen.’

‘Colin! I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Yeah, I was just walking by and saw you and thought I’d say hi. You’re going home?”

‘Thousand times yes.’

He laughed. She liked the sound of that. It felt nice to hear him laugh at something she said. Even if it wasn’t even a little funny. Still, even Colin’s warm laugh couldn’t prevent her body from shaking from how bloody cold it was. 

‘You cold?’ 

‘I lost my gloves. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’

‘Here, take this.’ He handed her one of his blue gloves. Penelope blushed slightly at the gesture but hoped he wouldn’t notice as her cheeks were already pink from the wind. They walked for some time when he suddenly stopped.

‘Wanna hang out? At my place? It’s closer than yours.’

‘Yeah, sounds like fun.’

***

Penelope found herself in Colin Bridgerton’s childhood bedroom for the hundredth time in the past few months looking at him playing some weird video game. Eloise still had classes and Penelope didn’t feel like sitting on her own in their shared flat so she accepted Colin’s invitation to his game session. She was never into such things, not even as a child, not with her mother towering over her shoulder all the time, forcing her into reading educational books instead of some ‘muddling activities’, so she had never played them when she was a kid and now that she’s twenty something years old she just couldn’t find any will in herself to start it. She just didn’t see a point in doing that. Old habits die hard. 

‘C’mon Pen, play with me, it’s just Mario Kart.’ 

‘I can’t.’ He frowned. 

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know how. I’ve never done that before.’

‘NO WAY! You’re friends with Eloise and she has never forced you into playing Mario Kart with her?!’ 

Penelope just looked at him with a small shrug.

‘It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Sit here.’

He tapped a place between his legs on his bed. She blushed. There was no way she would be able to sit there and play a stupid game while Colin's arms were wrapped around her body. But she did as he told her and sat in front of him and took a pad from him.

‘Are you ready?’ She nodded. ‘Alright, you have to press this button to start and those to move…’

***

Penelope was so happy to finally have vacation. As much as she loved journalism and literature, she was more than ready to unwind and rest during her leave. Her newly landed job was intense and so was her new boss. Charlotte Queen did not let anybody off the hook unless they did everything perfectly and Pen freshly out of university had a bit of hard time adjusting. She was at the annual Bridgertons’ barbecue sitting next to Gregory chatting her ear off with his attempts of flirting (no matter how sweet that was she couldn't really put her heart in it, he was still a kid in her eyes) and trying to ignore the piercing gaze of her mother, who definitely did not approve of her short fitted blue dress. It was too short, too fitting, and definitely too blue, and not yellow enough. She stood up from her seat, took her plate and went to Anthony who was grilling some meat. 

‘Classy apron, Viscount Bridgerton.’ He was wearing an apron that said ‘sexy cook’. Probably a gag gift from one of his siblings. 

He glared at her but then laughed. 

‘Do you want a sausage?’

‘Yeah, I would like one, thank you.’ As he was putting a sausage on her plate she heard her mother's shrieking voice. 

‘I don’t think you should be eating that, Penelope, you can skip some of your meals, dear.’

Suddenly she wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. She left her plate on a table next to Anthony and went straight to her seat. Anthony tried to call after her but she ignored him. In another part of the garden, Colin stopped mid track his conversation with Kate about India when he heard Portia’s words. He furrowed his eyebrows on the fact that Pen really listened to her mother and refused to eat. He didn't like it a bit. 

‘I’m sorry, Kate, I have something to do.’ She just smiled at him and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture.

He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Penelope. When she felt her phone buzzing and picked it up from the table, she saw a message from Colin.

Wanna hang out?

yes

She took her handbag and denim jacket and followed him to the entrance of the garden. He gestured to her to get into his car. 

‘Where are we going, Col?’

‘Eat.’

‘But we just ate.’

‘No, WE didn’t. I did.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘I don’t care. I am.’

Of course he cared and he didn’t listen to her protests, and soon after they were sitting in a car-park eating burgers and chips that Colin got at a drive through. 

‘Don’t listen to that shit.’

She snapped out of the haze.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t listen to the shit your mother is saying to you. You’re perfect just the way you are. And you have to eat to stay healthy, Pen.’

She blushed at his words. She knew he didn’t mean anything by that but it still made her heart flutter. If she wanted to get over her crush on him, he really had to stop saying things like that. But that was that and she couldn’t change his feelings nor could she forced herself to stop loving him. She tried and failed. She just had to accept that he simply saw her the same way he saw Daphne, Eloise, Francesca or Hyacinth. His friendship had to be enough. 

‘Thank you, Colin, it's nice to have a friend.’

She broke her own heart by saying those words. But this was for the best.

***

In August, Colin, Penelope, Eloise and her new friend Philip, decided to go camping. Their idea was brilliant until they realised that they live in England and it’s bloody raining all the damn time even during the summer. When it wasn’t pouring outside they tried to make the best of their time, but there wasn’t much left to do, because even when it wasn't raining, there was so much water everywhere and so much mud. So really, all that was left to do was sitting in their tents playing some stupid secondary school games. 

Penelope was a little bit miserable during this trip because Eloise obviously wanted to hang out with Philip and Pen as her tent roommate had to spend half of her time outside to give them some privacy. After two days, Colin just ordered Philip to switch the tent with Penelope cause there was no point in them getting rid of her every two hours. So for the rest of the stay, she slept in Colin's tent. She was totally cool with it and her heart wasn’t making somersaults at all.

On the last (rainy) night when she was about to go to sleep, Colin broke the silence. 

'I want to travel.'

Penelope smiled at him because she knew that for some time now. Well, at least she was suspecting it. She knew he was searching for a purpose and he couldn’t find it in England and he longed for adventure.

'Then do that.' 

'I also want to write.' 

'Then do that too.' 

He looked at her like she was a bit crazy. 

'What if I'm not good enough at it?'

'Then you'll get better, no one's born a perfect writer, all of those great novelists and poets had to start somewhere or otherwise we wouldn't know them now. You've got this, Col, I know you do.'

He grabbed her hand in the dark. 

'Thanks, Pen, it's nice to have a friend.'

***

In the last week of summer, after Colin's got back for a short break from his almost the two year trip, Pen and Colin decided to make the best of the last few days of warm weather, before the rainy autumn comes back and enjoy their last days in each other's company before he gets back to travelling and she gets back to work.

She looked up from her spot on a blanket and stared at the light pink sky up on the roof of Aubrey Hall. It was getting dark and late as the sun sunk down. 

'Do you want to head back?' 

Colin was a considerate type of guy in comparison to Eloise, who usually tended to forget about other people and their needs, unless reminded. The two were completely different but Penelope still adored them both equally. Okay, maybe not. She definitely wouldn’t want to jump Eloise’s bones as much as attractive she was. 

She looked away from the sky and towards Colin. She didn’t want to burst the bubble they were in. She liked being alone with him. She liked the fact that he listened. Simply listened. And he saw her, the real her. Even though he clearly couldn’t see or chose to ignore how much in love she was with him. 

‘No, not really. I mean, there’s no curfew, right?’

He smiled thinking about the one time he actually sneaked into her house, way past the curfew, and almost got caught just because he wanted to tell her about his plans for a gap year.

‘No, there’s no curfew… Wanna play twenty questions?’

‘Is there a need for that? I’m almost a hundred percent sure we know each other better than that.’

 ‘C’mon Pen, it’s going to be fun, here, I’ll start. What is your book about?’

‘Romance.’

‘And? That’s it? There has to be something more.’

‘That’s another question, Col. My turn. When are you going to send your journals to the publisher?’

‘I’m not sure I am.’ 

‘What? Why?’

‘Two additional questions, wait for your turn. Have you been sleeping well?’

‘Uhm, sure?’ Colin didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to use your question for?’

‘Yeah. Pretty sure. Also, the unwritten rule of twenty questions is telling the truth, so please, tell me the truth, Pen.’

She licked her lips considering how much of her late struggles she was supposed to share with Colin without lying and worrying him too much. 

‘Okay, not so much. It’s the heat, I can’t sleep because of it.’

Technically not a lie. The temperatures were not helping her insomnia. 

‘Anyway, my turn. Why do you not want to show the publisher your journals?’

‘Because they need editing and I can’t edit them myself to make them decent enough to be actually published.’

‘That’s bullshit, Colin, they’re already brilliant as they are but if you want, I can help you. Editing is kinda my job anyway.’

He looks at her gratefully. 

‘I’d love that.’ 

He kept looking at her until she asked if he wanted to ask his next question.

‘Oh, yeah, sure, you’ve been stressed out lately?’

‘Sort of, yeah. It’s hard to keep up with the pace at work and my mum is so behind with paying off her loan and she keeps asking for help and my salary stops covering my and her bills. You?’

‘Yeah, me too. But it’s not important, wanna talk about your mum?’

‘No, I want you to tell me why you’re stressed.’

‘I think I want to stop travelling that much. I’m applying for a job here and I’m getting a flat. I’m thinking about settling down.’ 

She looked away from him. Colin staying in the country was a dream come true but Colin settling down with some woman was like a nightmare coming to life. 

‘Wow. That’s a big decision. Good for you, Col. So, who finally convinced you to stay?’

At that moment Colin felt it was the right moment. He didn’t really want to wait any longer. He didn’t know when he realised that he wanted a future with her nor did he understand that. But he did come to his senses and waiting any longer was not an option. He needed her in his life in more ways than as just a friend. He felt that something finally gave him the nerve to touch her hand. 

‘You, Pen.’ He whispered. ‘Cause it’s nice to have a friend.’ 

***

Penelope was walking home to the sound of church bell rings that carried her all the way back. She wasn’t sure if that was a real wedding or maybe her madly in love mind made that up. As she was passing by the old church, she saw the rice on the ground and thought that it actually felt like snow. And she wasn’t delusional after all, some couple really did get married that day. 

She was so happy that the weekend has started because it meant at least two and one third of a day with Colin, doing absolutely nothing, just chilling. But then her phone rang and it turned out to be a call from Portia Featherington herself. Penelope was so worn out after the workload she's been having lately that even a thought of her mother’s nonsense idea of family dinner made her want to crawl into a hole and cry. She knew that the meeting would be a mess. She knew that Philippa and Albion would be a bit too loud and detached from reality but not cruel. She knew that Prudence would be making fun of her for everything and Harry would just smile and agree with whatever his wife said. She knew that everything Portia would say would be nothing more than a bunch of bullshit, but her mother did know where to hit so it would leave a bruise. So Pen was more than happy to bail and stay at home. 

What she was not so happy about, however, was the fact that her mother would never give her peace, if they ditch the dinner with her side of the family. It felt almost bizarre, using that phrase, because technically Colin was not her husband, not even her fiance and relatively speaking, her family was simply her family, he didn’t have any obligations towards them.

But Colin was a good boyfriend. He knew what a bitch Portia and Prudence could be, and would never allow Pen to deal with them on her own. The years she spent dealing with their crap alone were more than enough, and now that he finally came to his senses about his feelings, he was going to be there to protect her for the rest of their lives. 

Colin was looking at Penelope as she was driving to her family house and couldn’t help but notice how tired and distracted she was. She was still driving safely but her sour mood was visible. 

‘Hey, Pen, wanna switch? I can drive for the rest of the way.’

‘No, there’s no need to. I’m fine, it’s not a long drive.’

‘Are you sure? I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.’

She really didn’t. Her insomnia kicked back and she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than two hours every night for the last two weeks. She tried to convince him that she was fine, but he could call her bluff at the blink of an eye. 

‘Fine, you can drive.’

He smiled at her as she pulled over and gave her a quick kiss as they got out of the car. 

‘Thank you, babe.’

***

The dinner was an absolute and utter disaster. Portia Featherington didn’t disappoint with her nagging comments and unsolicited criticism. She knew how much Pen was working and that she didn't sleep well, and yet the only thing she could say to her was that she should start wearing more makeup and that her figure was not suitable for someone with her height. Colin had enough of her bullshit.

‘Penelope is working really hard because Mrs. Danbury offered her a possible promotion but she has to prove herself and she works her arse off, which you should be proud of. And she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and if you can’t see the value of your own daughter, then you’re fucking blind.’

Colin stood up from his chair, grabbed Pen by hand and dragged her out of the fucking madhouse. He was so furious he realised that he hadn’t said a word to Penelope until they were half way through to their flat.

‘I’m sorry, love. I know they're your family but I couldn’t just sit there and listen as they offended my brilliant girlfriend.’

‘No, I wanted to thank you for having my back there.’

‘Everyday.’

Penelope has realised that for a long time now, she stopped associating home with a place but with a person. At this very moment, their old beat up ford was home, because Colin was there with her. She didn’t need her shitty family when she got him. He was more than enough for her. And Bridgertons were a package deal, with one you got the whole bunch, so she knew that she had more people that she could count on, than she could ever dreamt of.

‘What do you wanna do for the rest of the day?’

She thought about his question for a while. She wasn’t in the mood for anything really, she just wanted to lay in bed and maybe sleep. And maybe she wanted cuddles too.

‘Stay in bed.’

Colin looked at her and smirked. 

‘Colin Bridgerton!’

He just smiled and kissed her knuckles. 

‘We can stay in bed the whole weekend. We’ve got all the time in the world.’

Later, Penelope sighed happily, as she was lying in his arms in her comfortable clothes. It truly was nice to have a friend. And she was bloody lucky that it was Colin.

[xylianasblog]

I’ll catch you if you fall.

Pairings: Lo’ak x Fem!reader, Oc!Metkayina male x Fem!Reader

Summary: You found comfort in the unlikeliest of ways.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, slut shaming, just Loak being possessive idiot, violence only slightly.

Slightly proofread!

< Previous Next >

It had been a week since you met Naeem, he seemed to consume your every thought. He was sweet and very funny and he was very affectionate. You spent all your free time with him after helping out and training, it was as if he actively searched you out when he was done with his own warrior duties or hunting.

Today was no different except it was, there was training and everyone was at the usual spot only today Naeem sat beside you. You couldn’t help but admire him as he helped teach. “No Tanhì.. like this.” he whispered softly as he corrected your fingers, his cold touch lingering, you gave him a little hum as he fixed your fingers. You could feel the curious gaze of the others which was fine but Lo’aks and Tsireya’s heated glares felt like they were piercing into your soul. “Thanks..” You gave him a little shy smile.

From the moment he saw your face all those months ago when you first arrived with the sullies. Naeem knew he wanted you but was too shy to even make himself known, but when he saw you alone crying after an evening swim he knew he had to heal the hurt in your heart. He hated to see you cry. And the moment Naeem heard you giggle as you spoke to him he knew he was done for, you instantly had him wrapped around your finger.

Naeem didn’t care for the others around in your small circle of friends, he was just enjoying touching you, as if he had to have some sort of skin contact with you, especially if it meant you’d smell like him even just for a little while.

He was very much aware of the jealous stares Lo’ak gave him every time he touched you or spoke to you. He wasn’t scared of the Omatikayan male because as far as Naeem was concerned you were his, his love, his future mate and he planned on making it known soon. The others were confused because they had heard stories of the male being unapproachable and cold towards everyone, he did not like people but he we was being sweet and gentle with you. Lo’ak and Tsireya both seemed deterred by this, she was for once glaring at you. Before you came she had a huge crush on Naeem and to see him being sweet to you in such a way made her furious, especially when she could never seem to get his time and affection. Lo’ak was seething, how dare you give your attention and time so someone other than him despite what he had done to him you would always be his whether he chose you or not.

“Don’t you think that’s enough touching.” Lo’aks voice rang out through the peaceful space. Naeem looke up at Lo’ak with a heated gaze but said nothing as he went back to ignoring him, his gaze softened when turned to look at you. You rolled your eyes at Lo’ak before turning your attention back to Naeem you smiled at him before asking what his name meant you were curious. “My name means comfort and comfort which I think is fitting because I’d love nothing more than to be yours.” He had a cocky smirk as he blatantly flirted with you. This caused you to look away immediately trying to his the heat of a blush rising on your cheeks. “That.. mmm..” was all you could get yourself to say.

“How you find this dude Y/n? Finally stopped opening your legs for the village till you found someone who wanted you now that I have Reya.” Lo’ak spat he knew exactly what he was doing, he wanted to hurt you fill you with the pain he was feeling. You looked at him blinking away the tears, for once you weren’t sure what to say. “Got tired of being the village whore Y/n, I’m surprised because all you seem to be good for is spreading your legs to anyone who gives you the slightest attention.” He said with so much hate, he was definitely hurt that someone else was making feel all the things he use too.”

Naeem growled softly at the words Lo’ak said, he instantly turned his attention to you watching as your eyes filled with tears but never fell. You let out a shaky breath as you stood up, and without warning you delivered a punch straight to his face. He stumbled back a few times faces turned to the side as he felt the stinging pain of your hit. “Shut the fuck up Lo’ak. You have no right to talk shit when you were cheating on me with her!” Everyone in the friend group let out small collective gasp, Lo’aks ears went back but that didn’t stop his step forward and rough push to your shoulders. You stood your ground as you continued speaking. “You don’t know anything. I never knew I needed to sleep around to get a guys attention that wasn’t yours.” You said icily.

Naeem stood to his full height towering over Lo’ak, he pushed him back not liking how close to you he had gotten. “Move away from her.” His voice was low and dangerous, his ocean blue eyes seemed to darken with anger. “Does she smell like other men of the village to you?” Naeem questioned him. You tilted your head in slight question yourself if anything you thought you smelled like you normally of soft earthy tone, but that was far from it.

Naeem grabbed you by the waist pulling your back into his chest as he buried his nose into your neck, he pressed a soft kiss against your skin causing you to shiver. Lo’ak was absolutely furious as he watched but stayed silent. “She smells like me, no other male shall touch her.. Y/n is mine.” He declared strongly as he held you close, you smiled a little feeling grateful.

You closed your eyes as you relaxed into his hold eyebrows pinched together as you took a moment. “I am no longer yours Lo’ak. I have no been since the moment you started seeing Tsireya..” You needed to make it known now, slowly lifting your eyes to look at his face as you spoke. “You will always be mine Y/n. No matter if I want you or not.” Lo’ak stated, you shook your head quickly.

“Why would I put myself through the hurt, you don’t need me.. you only want me because I am desirable to someone else. Someone who needs me, not just wants me when it’s convenient.” Lo’aks ears flattened as he tail went limp, Tsireya looked at Lo’ak and teared up. “You would have kept her! You would have still seen her despite everything we’ve done?”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of the argument as Naeem quickly pulled you away, you felt happy that he stood to protect you, to claim you so proudly. You stared down at your intertwined fingers the difference in your skin colors seemed to melt together perfectly.

As he lead you off you closed your eyes, feeling content once again. The silence wasn’t your only friend anymore, you didn’t need to rely on the quiet. For once you didn’t have to force yourself to love the thought of being so alone.

Tags: @avatar4life @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @ghostreadersthings @lauratstrange

(If you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know!)

[wooliguns]

v. all the lights couldn’t put out the dark, running through my heart; lights up and they know who you are

Everything is back to normal.

The sun is ruthless, the sky cobalt-bright, the grass lush and wet with dew—and he and Xiao are back to their usual rhythm. Their familiar shenanigans resume without so much as a stutter: casual banter, shared routines, the subtle gravity of closeness. Venti couldn’t be more thrilled (if he’s being impartial.) Something’s disarmingly simple about how easy it’s been after everything that went down. Too easy, maybe. Though amused by it, he’s also just a bit peeved.

Because, of course, even the teasing is back.

Xiao laughs at him again when he stumbles going up the stairs, drops things into his open mouth when Venti so much as passes out snoring on the couch, and never forgets to chastise him about feeding Cecilia—even though that blasted goldfish was his idea to begin with.

Not that Venti minds. He’s fond of Cecilia. And maybe… maybe he doesn’t mind doing small things for Xiao either. Like taking care of his damn fish. Especially after he caught the guy throwing a blanket over him that morning he passed out on the couch, hungover and bone-tired. That had been… sweet. Annoyingly sweet.

It’s Friday now—the last day of the school week—and for whatever reason, P.E. got shuffled around on the schedule. As much as Venti would love to sneak into the music hall, bang the drums until Liben’s ears bleed, or goof off with Xingqiu and Chongyun (who have, admittedly, become very joined at the hip these days), he can’t. Sadly.

Liben’s got them out in the park, running around like preschoolers. Squats, jumping jacks, laps. Apparently, it’s “good for the soul,” to “shake the body,” to “reclaim the spirit,” or some other mystical bullshit Liben chanted like a gym guru.

As if Venti doesn’t get enough cardio carrying the tonnage of his coursework and existential dread every week. He’s said this before—hell, he’s screamed it into his pillow before—but Physical Education shouldn’t even be a thing in a music degree. Still, if this is what it takes to graduate, then fine. He’ll jump. He’ll jack. He’ll run himself breathless for the dream: either music therapy or a singer-songwriter career, if he finds the guts to believe in himself long enough.

Mid-jog, something buzzes persistently against his hip—his phone, tucked safely in the band of his joggers. He groans, knowing exactly who it is. But he pushes through to finish his lap before staggering over to a bench and collapsing like a fallen leaf.

“Hu Tao!” he wheezes, waving a hand at her crumpled figure sprawled in the grass.

“Oi! Nani?” she yells back, breathless but still impish.

He gestures wildly at the water bottle in her hand. “Can I?”

With a groan, she jogs over and chucks it at his chest. “Freeloader,” she grins.

“Thanks,” he pants, unscrewing the cap and downing a heroic gulp. Then, wiping his mouth with his palm, he digs out his phone.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: hi crush 😘 scaramouche: it’s me ❤️ your future husband venti: scaramouche 😑 what do u need? scaramouche: if i said you? 😆 will u hand yourself over?? HAHAHA venti: shut up! u don’t like me !!! 😭 stop messing with me !!!

Ever since they ran into each other at the grocery and Scaramouche wrangled his number, the guy’s been relentless. Constant texts. Random musings. Daily declarations of boredom. Or love. Or both. He flirts like it’s his part-time job.

Venti’s not buying it, of course. Not seriously. But he plays along sometimes. It’s kind of funny.

scaramouche: VENTI 🥺 venti: . scaramouche: help me venti: what is it now 😒 scaramouche: I’M BORED IN CLASS 😭 venti: bye scaramouche 👋🏻💀 scaramouche: rude ☹️

There’s no way Scaramouche has a real crush on him, right? He’s probably bluffing. Venti doesn’t take it seriously. But he doesn’t mind it either.

scaramouche: venti, will you teach me venti: teach u what exactly? :o scaramouche: how to… venti: how? scaramouche: how to be so cute 😆💗😉 venti: DFHFDGDSDS BYE

Scaramouche is a friend. Just a friend. And that’s how it’s going to stay.

…Though, if Venti were being totally honest, if he hadn’t been hung up on someone else, perhaps—just perhaps—he might’ve entertained the idea. Probably.

He stares at the water bottle in his hand, fingers clenching as his thoughts meander away from Scaramouche—quietly, inevitably—back to him.

Back to Xiao.

Will he ever get over him?

His gaze flits back to his phone. He pulls up his conversation with Xiao, scrolling down to the messages from four days ago. His thumb hovers over the screen, lip caught between his teeth as he rereads the string of texts Xiao sent him during that quiet fallout. A haze resolves in his mind—the way he ignored every call, every attempt at contact. How he’d hooked his phone aside like it burned just to keep himself from spiraling further, just to stop crying at the sight of Xiao’s name lighting up his screen. Pleading messages. Please come home.

Home. Does Xiao see him that way, too? Because that’s what Xiao is to him… Always has been.

That night, when a message from Scaramouche came through, Venti had braced himself for teasing or more one-sided flirtation as he was tired as hell and was just in a fight with Xiao. He’d even taken a breath, trying to steel his nerves. But instead… it was a soft offer. Atoning. I can come get you.

And it confused him—until it clicked. Of course. Xiao must have contacted Scaramouche. Because Xiao does that, doesn’t he? He’d reach out to someone, anyone, to make sure Venti wasn’t alone. Of course, he had. That watchful gaze. That subtle concern, even when he had no right to interfere. How stupidly thoughtful.

But Venti couldn’t bring himself to see either of them that night. Not Xiao, not Scaramouche. And yet—let’s be honest—he wouldn’t have gone with Scaramouche even if it meant sleeping on a street bench.

Because Venti… loves Xiao.

Running to Scaramouche, who barely knew him, who’d confessed he liked him a few hours prior—a boy, yes, because Venti is only ever drawn to boys—still felt wrong. Dishonest. Because his heart was already taken. It existed for someone else. Even if that someone didn’t know it. Even if that someone didn’t return it.

Venti’s heart already belonged to Xiao.

He’s always been this way. Loyal to a fault. Pathetically so. And sure, he’d considered Scaramouche was just being kind—but even then, Venti couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting him that night would be a betrayal. Cheating, really. Never mind the fact that he and Xiao weren’t even together. Never had been.

Yet, it would’ve felt like cheating.

He had choked out a laugh through tears at that realization, curled in on himself on the floor of a random alley like he was the protagonist of a melodrama. So instead, he texted Xiangling, asked her to ignore any calls from Xiao if they came through, and crashed at her place. It was the safest bet. The only plan that felt… right.

“Barbatos! You coming or what?!”

Hu Tao’s voice cuts through the air, dragging him back to the present. Venti looks up, squinting against the sunlight, and catches her standing near the shaded side of the facility. She’s already with the rest of the group, all gathered and making their way back up the stairs. P.E. is over. Thank the gods.

Venti sighs, grabs his phone, and the bottle of water still in his other hand. Now that he’s moving, he can totally feel it—the sun soaking into his scalp, his sweat-damp shirt clinging to his back, the heat blooming across his cheeks.

He fakes a dramatic sob, “Ugh, I’m melting,” and bolts up from the bench. “Be right there!” he calls, wincing at the sheer aggression of the sun overhead.

He jogs toward the group and bumps shoulders with Hu Tao the very minute he reaches her. She retaliates with a sharp smack to his butt that makes him yelp, his eyes widening like saucers.

She grins at him, mischievous and starry-eyed. “Cute,” she coos.

Venti rolls his eyes, but his grin stays—light, untethered, sincere. And just like that, everything heart-rending he was mulling over fades into the background. Not gone, but softened for now. Only for this passing moment, he lets himself feel light.

**

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Venti blinks at Xingqiu, who’s just snapped his book shut and risen from his chair. They’re in Philosophy, their shared class—Venti already changed back into his day clothes after shedding his sweat-soaked P.E. uniform, still smelling faintly of grass stains and bad life choices. The class is nearly over, just a few minutes left before dismissal, and he has an hour to kill before his next lecture—music, thankfully. Something that doesn’t entail body cramps or mud.

“Someone’s yelling,” Xingqiu replies, flopping back into his seat with a frown. “Sounds like a fight. Should we check it out?”

Venti glances around the room—he’s not the only one curious. Heads are already turned toward the hallway. Murmurs buzz low. Even with the professor absent, no one’s left. Maybe they’re all wondering the same thing: who’s screaming, and why?

“Let’s go,” he says simply.

They’re up on their feet and weaving through the desks in seconds, heading for the door. A few classmates follow suit, and Venti suddenly wonders what the hell is happening upstairs. It does sound like a fight.

They jog toward the stairwell, Xingqiu tugging on Venti’s hood to slow him down.

Venti turns, raising a brow. “Seriously?”

Xingqiu shrugs sheepishly. Venti sighs, grabs his hand instead, and pulls him along.

By the time they reach the second floor, it’s chaos. Voices rising, students clustering. Curious heads poking out of classrooms. Some are recording on their phones—because, of course, they are. Venti slips past the crowd, instinct pulling him faster.

That’s when he sees it: Ganyu.

Oh no.

Her powder-blue hair is unambiguous, even in a sea of students. She’s standing in the center of the commotion, shoving Keqing hard in the chest.

“You liar!” she screams, tear-streaked and livid. “I hate you!”

“Ganyu—!” Venti bolts forward, breaking through the circle of onlookers. He barely registers Xingqiu behind him.

He moves fast, eyes gliding to Mona—who looks like she’s about to hyperventilate—and then back to Ganyu, trembling and flushed and sobbing. Keqing’s head is bowed, arms slack, like she’s given up trying to defend herself.

“I’m so sorry, Yuyu,” Keqing utters quietly, voice cracking with something like shame. “I didn’t mean—”

“Ganyu,” Venti calls gently, stepping between them, catching her wrist. Her whole body’s shaking. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on? What did she do?”

But Ganyu doesn’t answer. She lets herself be pulled back, huffing erratically. Then, suddenly, she wrenches free from his hold and lunges again—this time toward Mona, who’s strayed beside Keqing, close. Too close.

Ah. So that’s it.

Jealousy. Heartbreak. Maybe deception. And oh gods, Venti realizes, she’s worse than me when it comes to this kind of thing.

“Ganyu—!”

She stops mid-step. Freezes.

So does Venti.

Because that voice—that straightforward voice—is one they both know too well.

Students part like a tide, and there he is. Xiao.

Striding forward like he owns the place, brotherly fury written all over his face. And, damn—did he really have to look that devastating right now? Venti’s heart stumbles against his ribs. This is bad.

“G-gege?” Ganyu’s voice teeters. She looks wrecked. Red-rimmed eyes. Mottled cheeks. Her hands balling into fists, like she doesn’t know whether to run or crumble.

Keqing and Mona both look up. Xiao’s gaze cuts through them. Like a blade. Mona’s facial expression twists into a soundless help me as she locks eyes with Venti, all while Keqing visibly pales.

Venti acts fast. Pulls his phone out and dials. It rings once.

“Oh, so now you’re calling me,” Scaramouche’s voice bites in his ear. “After leaving me on read? Classic.”

“Scaramouche,” Venti rumbles quickly, trying to keep his voice low, “this is an emergency.”

In his peripheral vision, Xiao is now holding Ganyu’s hand, checking her over, exchanging inaudible words. Venti sees Ganyu nodding, gesturing, and then Xiao turns—slowly—his golden gaze hardening as it lands on Keqing. Then Mona.

Shit. Time’s up.

“I need you to get here. Right now,” Venti says. “Fourth floor. South Wing. Please.”

“Wait—what? Why?”

“We need your help.” Venti hesitates, sighs. “Well… Mona needs your help.”

“My help? Her?” Scaramouche’s voice is laced with disbelief—utterly affronted. “Why the hell would I lift a finger for that hag?”

Venti winces. Fair point. Mona had ghosted him the last time he offered her a ride home.

“Just—please. For me?” He cringes at the words even as they leave his mouth, but there’s no time to be proud.

There’s a beat of silence. Then a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. Anything for you.” Click. The call ends.

Venti exhales hard, tucking his phone into the front pocket of his overalls.

Time to fix this mess.

He dives back into the crowd, weaving through the ocean of bodies toward Mona and Keqing, who are both clearly fraying. Keqing looks demolished, mascara smudged, and mouth drawn tight. Mona’s fidgeting like she’s seconds from a breakdown. Around them, the murmuring crowd grows by the second.

“Let’s move,” Venti urges, low and dire. “People are watching—and not going anywhere.”

Keqing nods mutely. Mona swallows. And together, they slip out of the spotlight.

Once they find a quieter spot near the lockers, Mona lets out a long breath and leans against the wall.

“I need air,” she mutters, eyes distant. Keqing stays close but says nothing, arms crossed over her chest, supposing she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I’m sorry,” Keqing murmurs after a while, her voice nearly drowned out by the hallway noise. “Mona, I… I really am.”

Mona waves a hand, brushing her off. “It’s fine. We tried.”

“We did,” Keqing echoes, shoulders sagging.

Venti glances between the two. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, but… what exactly happened? Why did Ganyu blow up like that?”

He usually isn’t one to meddle (he’ll break up a fight, sure), but he doesn’t dig into drama unless it walks up and punches him in the face. Or screams in the hallway. Either works.

Keqing looks at Mona. Permission.

Mona sighs and steps up. “We used to sleep together,” she discloses bluntly.

Venti blinks. Oh.

So Ganyu was right. That explains it.

“It was a long time ago,” Mona continues. “Before she even enrolled here. Back when I met Keqing off-campus.”

“I transferred for her,” Keqing admits, and her cadence is stripped bare. “That was then, though. We’d already ended it. On good terms.”

“We agreed to move on,” Mona affirms, arms folding tighter. “We both had our reasons.”

“And then she met Ganyu,” Venti says, finishing the thought, piecing it all together.

Keqing sighs, wistful and pained. “She’s amazing, Venti. Kind and perfect. Patient. Thoughtful. I just…” She trails off, then refocuses. “We came today to tell her the truth. To be honest about our past. That’s it.”

“And you left out the part where you tried to kiss me?” Mona snaps, arms now securely crossed. “What the hell was that, Keqing?”

Keqing looks horrified. “I didn’t— I was just—”

“Ganyu saw it,” Venti cuts in gently. “We were there. She and I saw you both at the restaurant.”

Keqing’s face drains of color. “What… what did she see exactly?”

“You walked up to Mona… and tried to kiss her.”

“Fuck,” Mona groans, dragging her hands down her face. “No wonder. I thought she’d handle it better. I mean, she’s always been so chill.”

“Yeah,” Venti agrees, sighing. “I thought so too. She cried, but she composed herself. Guess she just masked it really well.”

Keqing leans against the locker behind her, head low. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just… thought we had more time to explain.”

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” Venti offers softly. “Ganyu must’ve just snapped. She’s not usually like that.”

“No,” Keqing murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She’s not. I’ll talk to her. I need to.”

“Please do,” Mona says, voice quieter now. “We screwed up. And I never wanted her to get caught in the crossfire.”

“I can talk to her, maybe,” Venti proposes, landing a hand on Mona’s shoulder with assurance. “I’ll do what I can.”

Mona nods, grateful, and Keqing gives him a look—wide-eyed, reverent—that tells him how much she appreciates it too. Even though Venti hardly knows her (okay, doesn’t know her at all), aside from what he’s picked up through Ganyu, Mona, and now this whole ordeal… he can tell. He can see it. Keqing is in love with Ganyu. And perhaps that’s what makes all the difference. She’s trying. Earnestly.

And suddenly, Venti understands something else: Keqing didn’t technically owe Ganyu the truth. They weren’t dating, they hadn’t made anything official. But Ganyu isn’t just anyone. That’s right. You don’t get to stumble into someone like her and treat her like an option. She’s rare. One of a kind. A forbearing rarity that’s so easy to love, you almost don’t realize it’s already happening.

And judging by the way Keqing is pacing, frazzled and fidgeting, patently coming undone at the seams—she knows that now. Same with Mona, who’s chewing her thumbnail, sighing every three seconds like it’s on a timer.

Then Venti’s phone buzzes against his chest. He fishes it out, frowning at the screen.

Oh—Scaramouche. Crap. He totally forgot he called him.

“Hey—Scara, sorry,” he rushes to say, accepting the call. “False alarm. We’ve got it handled.”

“Seriously?” Scaramouche sounds unimpressed. “Where are you?”

“Second floor. Near the lockers.”

“Cool. I’m close.”

Venti ends the call and turns toward Mona, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Sooo, quick heads up…”

She arches a brow. “Yeah?”

“I, um, might’ve called someone earlier. When things got… y’know. Dramatic.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Thought you might want an out.”

“Okay…” Mona narrows her eyes. “Who exactly?”

“You remember Scaramouche?”

“Scara… what now—”

“Me,” comes a lazy drawl behind them.

Mona spins around and freezes at the sight of him approaching. Her bearing curdles.

“Oh fuck no,” she says flatly.

Keqing blinks beside her, visibly trying to piece together the dynamic.

Scaramouche doesn’t miss a beat. He juts a thumb in Mona’s direction, looking at Venti with a deadpan expression. “See? This is why I delayed. She’s an ungrateful ha—”

“Finish that word and I will end you,” Mona snaps, face tight, tone lethal.

Scaramouche ostensibly flinches, rolling his eyes but smart enough to shut up. Venti snorts into his fist, trying not to laugh.

“A-anyway!” he pipes up, clapping his hands together. “Crisis averted. Thought we could maybe… chill outside? Sun’s out, we’ve survived emotional warfare, seems fair.”

Scaramouche kicks at the floor. “Sure. I’m already here.”

Mona hums, glancing sideways. “Fine. I could use a smoke.”

Scaramouche perks up. “Wait, you brought some? The nearest convenience store’s like five blocks—”

“No need.” Mona pats her bag with a smug smirk. “I’m always prepared. Let’s go.”

She starts striding toward the exit, Scaramouche following with a low grumble. Keqing dithers, lost in thought, gaze vacant. Poor girl—she’s got a lot to figure out still.

“You guys go ahead!” Venti calls out, jogging in the other direction. “Gotta grab my stuff—I’ll catch up!”

“Don’t flake on us!” Scaramouche calls back.

“I won’t!”

**

He returns to the classroom on the third floor to grab his things, then heads out—but instead of going straight to the school gates, he finds himself ambling toward the fourth floor. He’s pretty sure Ganyu and Xiao are still up there. He just… wants to check in, see if things have calmed down—for Ganyu’s sake, at least.

Not that he’s trying to be some peacemaker. That’s more Ganyu’s brand than his. But today? She’s the one who needed someone. And well, he’s been there since the start of this entire mess. First to know. Now Xiao’s involved, and—ugh. Venti winces at the memory of Xiao’s guise when he saw Mona earlier, all cold fury and judgment stropped into a look.

Venti glances down at his buzzing phone.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: jeez venti your friend is ever so feisty, aint she smh venti: what why? :0 thought u guys were getting along scaramouche: i thought so too, but she’s really trying to kill me 😭😭 venti: im sorry, but pls take care of her for now? 😐 scaramouche: of course. anything for you, venti 😘

Venti snorts, shaking his head. This guy.

He switches to his chat with Xiao and fires off a quick text.

venti: xiao? where are u? xiao: 4th floor, ganyu’s classroom venti: okay! im omw

He jogs up the stairwell, careful not to trip—again. When he reaches Ganyu’s classroom, he slows, hovering by the door.

There they are. Xiao and Ganyu, seated across from one another with a desk between them. She looks like she’s pulled herself together. No more tears. And Xiao… Xiao looks calm, posture easy, one hand outstretched across the desk as if trying to keep a fragile connection steady.

Venti’s eyes sweep the room. A few students here and there, but no one’s gawking at them like they’re a live drama. That’s a relief.

And then he hears Xiao’s voice—low and curt. “Great. You’re here. Explain.”

He’s already tapping the empty chair beside him.

Venti flinches at the insipid tone, but obeys anyway, slumping beside Xiao and dropping his bag by their feet. “So… Ganyu hasn’t told you yet, I take it?”

Xiao raises an eyebrow. Ganyu, meanwhile, suddenly becomes very interested in anything not eye contact.

Venti sighs, scratching his nape. Right. It’s on him, then.

So he walks Xiao through the entire thing—what happened at the mall, the aftermath, the reason for the fight today, and the explanation behind Keqing showing up with Mona.

Ganyu gasps, eyes going round. “She said that?”

“She did,” Venti confirms. “Said you’re perfect, kind, thoughtful. That she’d do whatever it takes for you to forgive her.”

“Hmph. Might’ve jumped the gun a little, Yu,” Xiao mutters, resting his chin on his palm.

Venti side-eyes him, a bit surprised by how mellow he sounds. He expected… anger. Disapproval. But instead, Xiao seems reflective, if not slightly amused.

Ganyu, on the other hand, is wringing her hands. “I did, didn’t I? But—where is she now? Keqing?”

“They’re outside,” Venti replies. “Mona and Scaramouche stepped out for a smoke.”

Ganyu grimaces. “Scaramouche is there?”

“Long story,” Venti mutters.

She sighs, then turns to Xiao, voice soft. “Gege… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just… I thought you’d be mad.”

Xiao blinks at her. “Mad? About what?”

“You know… for sleeping with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with.” She fidgets. “I thought you’d… judge me for it.”

Xiao hums. He doesn’t speak right away, which makes the stillness stretch taut. Venti and Ganyu exchange a glance, waiting.

Then Xiao leans back, tone even. “That’s not my place. As long as you’re both consenting and understand what you’re getting into, then that’s your business. You’re not a kid anymore, Yu. I trust you to handle things your way.”

“I do,” Ganyu insists. “I know how. I promise.”

Xiao nods. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”

Venti blows a breath, tension easing. “Well, guess that means all that’s left is to fix things with Keqing. Talk it out. Kiss and make up.” He grins.

Ganyu chuckles faintly, looking down at her hands. “Yeah…”

Venti reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “You got this. Keqing’s gone head over heels. I think you’ll win this one easy.”

At that, Ganyu breaks into an arrant smile—bright and earnest, just the way Venti likes seeing her.

“You’re right,” she says, nodding enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t have made a scene like that if I didn’t love her back.”

“Exactly,” Venti chirps, winking. “Drama only hits that hard when love’s involved.”

“But still,” Xiao interjects, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes with a sigh, “you two… chose to keep this from me.”

Uh-oh.

“Eh—ge, I’m sorry,” Ganyu blurts out, guilt thick in her voice. Beside her, Venti can feel his palms going clammy.

“Xiao…” Venti murmurs.

Xiao opens his eyes and fixes them on him. “Next time, just let me know. I was worried sick, Venti. I thought Ganyu got into some real trouble.”

“Well, I did get into a fight,” Ganyu mumbles under her breath, not helping her case at all, earning her a subtle head shake from her brother, who pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to keep it together.

Venti watches them with a smile. It’s always like this between them—their own flow, their little bubble. It’s something he’s grown used to. Something he finds himself admiring, that kind of unconditional bond. It’s honest. Beautiful. Domestic.

It makes him wonder, sometimes, what it might’ve been like to have a sibling of his own. Someone to protect. Someone to tease, baby, and spoil into oblivion. He already knows—he’d be insufferably doting. Just like Xiao, who’d walk through fire for his sisters, no questions asked.

His thoughts are cut short when his phone starts buzzing in his hand. He flips it over—and nearly snorts at the little stickman on a skateboard he doodled in a half-asleep daze, now proudly serving as Scaramouche’s contact photo.

He answers. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

“You are,” comes Scaramouche’s grousing, “but it’s you, so I’m letting it slide. Barely. Anyway, we’re already on stick number three out here. You better show up before I reach existential crisis.”

Venti can hear Mona and Keqing talking in the background. He gets to his feet. “On my way now,” he promises, ending the call. He turns back to Xiao and Ganyu. “I’m heading out. Scaramouche and the girls are waiting by the gate. I told them I’d catch up.”

“That was Scaramouche just now?” Xiao asks casually, though there’s an undercurrent in his tone. Something a little too measured. Venti feels his skin prickle with it.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Xiao’s eyes narrow, just a bit. “So… getting close to him now?”

Venti blinks. “Kind of? I guess? He won’t stop texting me, actually.” He rolls his eyes, sighing. “It’s nonstop. Teasing, flirting—he’s determined.”

Xiao studies him for a long, drawn-out moment. Then he nods once and deviates. “I see.”

That… was weird. Venti’s not sure what he expected, but the vague tension now dawdling between them wasn’t it.

“Anyway—!” he trills, dusting off imaginary lint from his sleeves. “I’m off! Ganyu, good luck with Keqing. I hope you two get to talk soon. I’ll see you both later!”

He waves and bolts out of the classroom, making his way toward the school gates where Scaramouche, Mona, and Keqing are waiting.

**

Hanging out with Scaramouche, Mona, and Keqing surprisingly did more for Venti’s mood than he anticipated. For one, watching Scaramouche and Mona trade sarcastic jabs was pure gold. Despite their barbs, it was clear they were slowly warming up to each other. Emphasis on slowly.

“Come to my party this weekend. Tomorrow night,” Scaramouche says, lounging on the curb like he owns it. “Venti and Keqing will be there, right?” He doesn’t even give Keqing a chance to answer—her brows are already knitting in quiet protest—before adding with a sly grin, “Xiao and his sister too, probably. We’re all bound to get a little tipsy and clingy. Gotta keep an eye on our beaus.”

“Beaus?” Venti echoes, incredulous. Is he implying what he thinks he’s implying?

Scaramouche throws him a wink, shameless and smug. Venti flushes, a little too warm all of a sudden. So yes, that’s exactly what he meant. How much does this guy know, anyway?

“So, Mona?” Scaramouche averts his attention, where she’s crouched with her elbows propped on her knees, cigarette loosely dangling between her fingers.

Mona takes a final drag, the embers crawling to the filter before she flicks it away. “Whatever. Yeah, fine. I could use a drink. This week’s been hell.”

“Weekly ritual?” Scaramouche smirks.

Mona straightens, dusts her skirt, and shoots him a look. “I don’t need a reason to drink, but I’ve got plenty anyway. …But you’re driving me home,” she adds, planting a hand on her hip. “Because in case it isn’t obvious, I’m broke as shit. And don’t expect me to bring booze either. Again: broke.”

Scaramouche waves a hand. “No worries. I’ve got my own stash.”

“Oh! That’s good,” Venti cuts in with a chuckle, raising his hand like a guilty co-conspirator. “Because, uh, I’m also broke. Like, Mona-level broke.”

Scaramouche gasps theatrically, placing a hand to his chest. “My poor, pitiful children. Whatever would you do without your benevolent father?”

“I can bring drinks,” Keqing pipes up, trying not to sound too smug. “I’m… not broke.”

Venti eyes her slim Rolex and that delicate gold necklace and resists the urge to whistle. Yeah, she’s definitely not broke.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Scaramouche and Mona say in sync, deadpan.

Keqing turns a very elegant shade of pink and scoffs, turning her back on them. Venti grins, thoroughly entertained by the group’s stir.

Eventually, Keqing excuses herself to make it to her next class. Mona announces she’s off to Angel’s Share to “nurse her nerves,” which makes Venti wonder for the tenth time if Mona ever actually attends class. Scaramouche offers to walk Venti back inside, though they part ways at the lockers—he’s already fifteen minutes late for his next class, and Venti wants to drop off his stuff before heading to the music hall for some saxophone practice.

He’s been obsessing over it lately. After mastering the ukulele (or so he claims), the sax is his latest conquest. He’s ditched carrying Diaochan to school altogether, letting her rest for now. It just makes traveling lighter. Besides, he’s got a new fixation to feed.

With his bag stashed and only his phone, keys, and wallet on hand, Venti sets off toward the music hall, sauntering leisurely through the quad and into the quieter wings of campus. It’s free time for him now, and he plans to use every second of it for uninterrupted, messy, soul-healing practice.

He strolls past Freedom Park, spotting a few scattered students, most of whom he only vaguely recognizes. He ascends the steps to the mezzanine—then halts.

A girl with sun-kissed blonde hair tied back by a pale blue ribbon stands near the hallway. He recalls those shoes. Those eyes.

“Lumine?” he asks, blinking in surprise.

She turns, golden-brown eyes lighting up the moment she sees him. “Venti!”

They meet halfway on the staircase and exchange a quick hug.

“Wow! Long time no see. What brings you here?” he asks. Her department is a fifteen-minute walk from the music hall. He’s used to running into Aether around here, sure—he’s Xiao’s friend, after all—but Lumine?

“Oh, I was actually looking for you,” she says, laughing a bit. “So glad I found you right away.”

“Wait—you were looking for me?”

She nods. “We might’ve, uh, checked your other classes too…”

“We?”

As if on cue, she glances behind Venti. He instinctively turns—but no one’s there.

“It’s my brother,” Lumine explains with a tiny sigh. “Aether, it’s okay! It’s just me and Venti!”

No more than a few seconds later, Aether peeks out from behind a post, looking like a guilty cat caught red-pawed. He rubs the back of his neck shyly. “Hey, Venti,” he greets, soft and tentative, stepping into view beside Lumine.

“So, um—my brother and I are actually both coming to the party,” Lumine imparts, tone light, like she’s setting something up. “We just heard about it from Kazuha…”

Venti hums, head tilting. “But I heard Kazuha can’t make it, right?”

“Right,” Aether confirms, looking a tad deflated.

“Mm-hmm,” Venti nods, waiting, brows raised. “Go on.”

“And… well, my brother here wants to invite a certain someone,” Lumine continues with a small, knowing smile. “It’s just that—”

“I’m too much of a coward to ask them myself,” Aether finishes, folding his arms and looking everywhere but at Venti.

“Oh.” Venti blinks, still piecing it together. Then—click.

“You’re… friends with Albedo, right?” Lumine quips, batting her lashes oh-so-innocently.

Venti’s eyes light up, lips curling into a sly grin. “I am,” he croons, drawing out the words, amusement dancing in his voice.

Lumine throws an arm over Aether’s shoulder, grinning like the schemer she is. “Well, my timid, hopelessly-in-love brother here was hoping you could invite him. You know… so they can finally talk. Or, like, breathe in the same general vicinity.”

Venti clutches his chest. “Oh, the honor is mine~ I gotchu, no worries~”

“There! Not so hard now, was it?” Lumine teases, releasing Aether with a clap of her hands. “Told you Venti’s the go-to guy! He knows everyone on campus. And not just that. He’s friends with them, too.”

“Err—not everyone,” Venti mumbles, scratching his cheek with a chuckle.

“Psh, close enough,” Lumine dismisses with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, you’re coming to the party as well, right? Amber and I better see you there.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Venti assures her with a grin. His heart always aleviates at the mention of Lumine and Amber—campus legends at this point, the golden couple. Five years strong, never a thorough fallout, never a major fight. Sure, they bicker now and then, but that’s just seasoning. Venti swears, if relationship goals had a mascot, it’d be those two.

He turns to Aether with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “And you! I didn’t know you were crushing on Albedo!” He guffaws. “Scandalous!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” Aether hisses, reaching out like he’s trying to physically smother Venti’s words from the air. His ears and cheeks are flaming red—he looks dangerously close to combusting on the spot.

Venti doubles over laughing. “Relax! No one’s around to hear—and Albedo’s probably off sketching a beetle or something philosophical like that. But this is fantastic news! You like my friend!” (And he definitely likes you back, Venti thinks smugly, but keeps it to himself. Let the tension cook.)

“I’ll talk to him,” Venti declares. “He’s not much for parties, but I’ll drag him there if I have to. Though, knowing you’ll be there? That might just do the trick.”

“Okay, thank you, Venti—” Aether starts, but Venti cuts him off.

“So you two can smooch!” he sings, making exaggerated kissy noises and miming a dramatic embrace with invisible arms.

Lumine snorts, nearly doubling over in laughter herself, while Aether looks about ready to file a restraining order.

Venti’s grinning so hard his face hurts. He does feel a little bad, after all, Aether is genuinely one of the nicest people he knows, but teasing is practically Venti’s love language. No one is exempt. Not even golden boy Aether and his sunshine soul.

After his snack detour with the twins, Venti still managed to drop by the music hall, despite his now-crunched free time, to squeeze in that saxophone practice he’d promised himself. And honestly? It was worth it.

The sax isn’t exactly his best instrument, his breath control still wobbles, and he doesn’t always hit the cleanest notes, but it’s soothing in its own way. It possesses a richness and temperateness that other instruments don’t have. A morsel of thickness, a modicum of smoothness. He likes it. He does.

Jazz isn’t his thing, not at all. He’s more into pop and country ballads, things with a catchy hook and a good emotional payoff. But still—Venti finds himself picturing scenes: him, dressed to the nines in a fancy blazer, playing in some velvet-curtained jazz bar, lifting a wine glass with a curled pinky like some bougie 18th-century aristocrat.

He giggles to himself. Okay, calm down, Barbatos.

A few minutes later, he’s tapping the end of his pen against his desk in class, not really listening to the professor’s closing remarks. His mind’s somewhere else entirely.

He pulls out his phone and shoots Albedo a text. meet u @ the tree? 🌳

albaedo: Sure.

The sun is starting to dip below the buildings when Venti reaches the tree first. Freedom Park is gradually emptying, students pouring out of lecture halls, the stunted, resplendent sunset spreading penumbras across the grass. Venti checks his watch, then looks up, and there he is.

Albedo approaches at an even pace, every bit the composed picture he always is. White sweater tucked neatly into navy shorts, black loafers burnished against the stone path, leather bag over one shoulder, and his hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Glasses perched on his nose. An actual walking aesthetic.

Venti grins and waves. Albedo raises a hand in return, more subdued but manifestly his trademark of friendliness.

“Hi,” Venti greets.

“Hi,” Albedo replies, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

“So, guess what,” Venti opens, fluttering his lashes for effect.

“I’m not very good at guessing,” Albedo responds unequivocally.

“Pffft. Not good at guessing, my foot! Aren’t you supposed to be, like, a certified genius?”

“Context helps,” Albedo inputs.

“It’s about the party this weekend!” Venti chirrs.

“I’m not going,” Albedo relays immediately, as if reading from a script.

Venti pouts at that. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”

Albedo purely shrugs, deadpan. No rebuttal. Quintessential.

But Venti is ready. He arches a brow, lips curling mischievously. “Well, that’s too bad. I guess it’ll just be me, Aether, and—”

“I beg your pardon?”

Oh-ho. Venti’s unable to keep his enthusiasm in check. “Aether. You know, Lumine’s twin. Cute boy. Blonde. Sweet smile? We ran into each other earlier and he told me he’s going to the party.”

The effect is instant. Albedo’s composure cracks—solely a fraction—but enough. He steps forward, grabs Venti’s arms with adventitious obstinacy, and pulls him close.

Venti yelps, startled, and blinks up into Albedo’s eyes just as the other boy leans in. Oh my gods, is he—

But Albedo’s lips press against Venti’s forehead. Just that. A light kiss. A soft, sincere brush. “Thank you, Venti,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there.”

And just like that, he pulls back.

Venti’s jaw slackened, flustered, eyes wide, and heart pinging somewhere in his throat. “O-Of course. We… we’ll see you there, then.”

“I have to head home,” Albedo says, returning to his usual calm. “Klee’s waiting, and Alice wants me for dinner.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Venti nods again, watching as Albedo turns and walks away, vanishing down the path with the ease of a guy who has absolutely no idea how much disruption he just caused in Venti’s system.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Venti chokes on his spit, harshly, a laugh puffing from his lips. “Infatuated, my ass,” he grunts, recalling what Albedo told him that day under this very same tree.

That boy is… gone. That Albedo? That one is toast.

**

When Venti reaches the campus gates, he’s met with a sea of students. Chatter, clamor, bodies crowding the entrance like moths to a sudden flame. The air buzzes with curiosity, and Venti has to slow down, tiptoeing to see over shoulders, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever has the entire university piling up like it’s the scene of a reproach. He cranes his neck, scans the swarm, until his eyes land on a flash of twin pigtails bouncing above the heads—Hu Tao, practically climbing over someone’s shoulder like a goblin, trying her might to see what the fuss is.

“Oi, Barbatos!” she squeals when he taps her back. “Quick, look!”

“Look where?” he asks, bewildered, but she’s already grabbing his wrist, hauling him into the throng like a kid to a candy booth.

“It’s the model—Eula! Eula Lawrence! She’s here!”

Wait, what? Venti bristles. “You mean the Eula? Like, international supermodel-slash-actress-slash-commercial-goddess Eula?”

“Yes, now move,” she hisses, tugging him harder as they push through layers of stunned students, the space ahead blocked off by black suits and security guards. They can only get so close before the line stiffens, but it’s close enough for Venti to see her.

And holy shit.

There she is, in the flesh. Eula Lawrence. Her long, maya blue hair is twisted into a bun, messy by design, that somehow looks better than most people’s wedding hair. She’s draped in a purple chiffon dress that pirouettes in the wind, peacock-patterned heels clicking against the stone, a snowy fur shawl slung luxuriantly over her bare shoulders like it was born there. She’s unreal—like she stepped out of a magazine shoot, and Venti feels his breath snag in his throat.

He doesn’t even notice when his jaw drops. His body acts on instinct, ready to fanboy—to scream her name, wave like a maniac, maybe catch her eye for a brief, cosmic moment. But just as his lips part to yell—

He sees him.

Xiao.

Being ushered forward by security.

Venti falters mid-breath, eyes locked on his best friend, who’s being escorted through the crowd like some kind of…VIP. He watches as Xiao approaches Eula, watches as they greet, watches as they—what the fuck—shake hands.

And then.

Then she leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

Venti staggers. He doesn’t dare breathe. Can’t. Everything else—Hu Tao yelling, the murmuring crowd, the glow of magic hour over campus—blurs out like static on an old TV. It’s not even the kiss that guts him, rather, it’s the look in Xiao’s eyes. The way his brows twitch, a wink of surprise, but he doesn’t step back. Not really.

Venti feels it. A jab to the ribs. Not jealousy. No. This is something else. Something bone-deep and ugly. Envy. Pain. Panic. It builds fast and fastens around his throat.

This is what it’ll feel like, he realizes. This is what it will be like when Xiao finally falls in love—with someone not him. When Xiao chooses someone else, anyone else. When he kisses them, touches them, loves them in a way Venti has only ever imagined in the dark corners of his room at 2 a.m.

Because they’re just friends, aren’t they?

Best friends. Roommates. A pair of idiots sharing cereal and toothbrush holders and jokes that only make sense to them. But it was always going to end, wasn’t it? One day, Xiao will date. He’ll fall for someone—beautiful, brilliant, breathtaking. He’ll build a life that doesn’t include Venti sleeping on the couch or leaving takeout on the counter. He’ll marry. Have kids. Move out. Move on.

And Venti will still be here, frozen under the campus gates, trying to figure out how to breathe through a smile.

“Barbatos!”

The voice jars him. Hu Tao again.

He blinks. “Huh…”

“I’ve been calling you for ten minutes, lad. Are you—are you okay?”

“I…” He tries to laugh, the sound dry and brittle. “I spaced out. Sorry.”

Hu Tao’s face melts. “Shit. I shouldn’t have dragged you here. I didn’t know that crap was going to happen. I was just—just curious, you know? Like everyone else.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Venti waves her off, trying to sound casual. “I mean… come on. It’s Eula. The Eula. She just kissed my best friend. How insane is that?” He chuckles, a strangled, hollow sound, one hand pressed to his stomach as it starts to churn. “Xiao’s a lucky bastard, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He bolts.

Shoulders crash into him as he shoves through the crowd, his throat tight and chest clenched, darting past students and security, and idiosyncrasies. He finds a corner, one far enough away, and folds forward—and then he’s heaving.

Throwing up.

Everything he ate earlier splashes onto the grass, acrid and violent. Somewhere behind him, Hu Tao shouts his name, voice steeped in worry, but it’s all white noise. His eyes mist, his body trembles, and he throws up again. Hands grab his arms, trying to hold him steady—maybe hers, he can’t tell—but the world keeps spinning, and his vision goes rigid.

This is jealousy?

This is what it feels like?

Because Venti doesn’t remember ever feeling like this before… Xiao has never let anyone get close enough to stir this kind of fear in Venti, this kind of ache that tunnels through his chest and indents him like a rotten tree.

That woman… Eula… kissed him. And not even in the romantic way, not necessarily. But it doesn’t matter. She got to touch him. She got to smile at him. Got to look at him the way Venti wants to be looked at. And that? That destroys him.

Because Xiao is his. At least, he thought so.

The first kiss on Xiao’s cheek should’ve been his. He’s waited so long—so damn long—to be brave enough. And someone else beat him to it without even trying.

He needs to get out of here.

Needs to vanish, go home, curl under his sheets, and cry himself quiet. He can’t stand to be here any longer.

So he runs.

Wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, shoves past the onlookers like a ghost, ignores Hu Tao’s frantic voice calling after him. He doesn’t turn around.

He walks faster. Then faster.

Then breaks into a full sprint.

Alone.

**

Maybe…Venti overreacted last night.

He can admit that. Kind of. In his defense, he’s never been properly jealous before, not in his entire eighteen years of being alive and deeply, stupidly gay for his best friend. So, sue him. The nausea, the runaway dramatics, the hurling in public? That was just him… coiling. But now, in the cold fluorescent lighting of the university library on a Saturday morning, he starts realizing that maybe he should’ve waited five seconds before combusting emotionally and sprinting away like he was in some cheesy queer telenovela.

Because the truth is, he still doesn’t know who the hell Eula actually is to Xiao.

A cousin? A family friend? A sugar mommy? (Okay, probably not that last one—but still. Who shows up at a university surrounded by bodyguards, asks for Xiao specifically, and kisses him like they’re starring in a Chanel ad?!) It makes no fucking sense. And Venti? Well. He didn’t stick around long enough to figure it out. He just… vomited. In the grass. In front of Hu Tao. And left.

So now he’s here, at the library, halfway to full regret, working a weekend shift for the sake of extra cash. Because being heartbroken and broke is just too cliché, even for him.

He scoops up another unruly pile of books someone left strewn across the philosophy table like a war crime, and hauls them back to the Non-fiction aisle, shelving each one with a bit more force than necessary.

Five more hours. That’s all. Five hours until sundown. Then it’s home, clothes, ice cream rendezvous with Kazuha, and off to Scaramouche’s party, the little troll’s address already saved in Venti’s notepad. All he has to do is survive until then.

Last night, he had done exactly what he swore he wouldn’t: went straight to bed and cried. Not the pretty, single-tear, Romeo-on-the-balcony type of crying either. No. It was silent, pathetic, pillow-soaking heartbreak, because damn it, that kiss should’ve been his.

And the worst part? He was proud of himself for holding it in during the tube ride. Proud of not bursting into tears in front of Hu Tao or the spectators or, gods forbid, Xiao. But those tears, the stubborn little traitors, lacerated at his eyes like they were trying to chew through his skull. And when he made it to the dorm, at last, curled up in the dark, they won.

He sniffles now, scoffing at himself as he rounds the corner of the aisle.

Because seriously—who the actual hell is Eula?

What’s her deal? Dropping in like some celestial being in Louboutin heels, kissing Venti’s best friend like he belongs to her? What is she, the final boss of heartbreak? He slams another book back onto the shelf a little too hard. Whatever. She probably smells like money and drinks essenced water and owns a yacht. Meanwhile, Venti’s over here breaking his spine doing away with sociology textbooks for minimum wage.

He’s halfway through muttering obscenities about library patrons with no sense of decency when a voice cuts through the aisle:

“You doing okay there, Barbatos?”

“What—?!” Venti jolts, nearly dropping Memoirs of a Geisha on his foot. His head snaps around—and oh, fuck. It’s Miss Lisa. “I—I mean, sorry. I didn’t hear you, Miss Lisa.”

The head librarian merely chuckles, honey-sweet, eyes shining with their usual blend of merriment and suppressed prudence. “I asked if you’re doing okay. Because I can feel your raging aura all the way from the front desk.”

And Venti wants to die.

“Oh! I—I’m fine! Totally fine!” he stammers, flapping his hands awkwardly. “Just frustrated with, uh, the way students treat the books. Y’know. Disrespect. Entropy. Anarchy.”

She laughs behind her hand. “Mm. I remember my first few weekends here. The rage is a rite of passage. You’ll adjust.”

Venti forces a grin. “Of course, Miss Lisa! You’re right.”

She hums, turning back to her paperwork (with the serenity of a woman who’s been shelved in every emotional state imaginable, conceivably.) As soon as she’s out of sight, Venti exhales so hard he almost deflates. He grabs another armful of books as an act of vengeance.

The worst part? The students remain here. Hovering. Breathing and existing and leaving their damn textbooks sprawled across every available surface resembling a goddamn crime scene. Sometimes, Venti wants to print out a giant poster and stick it on every wall:

PUT YOUR FUCKING BOOKS BACK OR I’LL PERSONALLY SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR ENTIRE DIGESTIVE TRACT.

But maybe that’s too much.

Probably.

Still—fuck all of them.

Especially Eula.

Because Venti’s blood is boiling again, his fingers strained around the spine of Global Economics: A Modern Approach, as if the textbook had done him dirty.

But that’s just it. She had no business showing up. No business looking that beautiful. No business kissing Xiao, like he was hers to kiss.

Because he’s not. He’s Venti’s.

…Right?

Right?

**

He’d clocked out of the library hours ago, but he hadn’t gone straight home. Instead, he holed up in the music hall, smashing at the drum set like a madman, because the last thing he wanted was to see Xiao right now.

The poor snare drum barely survived.

Venti had nearly broken it—his entire life savings flashing before his eyes as he pictured the inevitable you break it, you buy it conversation. Shit. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed an outlet, and so the cymbals, the toms, the bass drum—they all suffered his wrath while he blasted Panic! At the Disco in his ears, letting the burden of last night’s fiasco crash over him again and again.

He felt like he’d just gone through a breakup.

Which was stupid.

Because how could you call it a breakup when you weren’t even dating the guy?

But still… his heart twisted in torment, his stomach churned with resentment, and even though he saw Xiao every day, he still missed him. His face, his scent, his gorgeous back, his stupidly round ass, his deliciously disheveled morning hair, his sharp wit, and his damn sarcasm…

Gods, I’m pathetic.

So yes, Venti had nearly broken a drum, and all he wanted was to feel okay again. Was that too much to ask?

With a sigh, he slumps against the subway’s handrails, watching the city pass by as he waits for his stop.

It’s cold when he steps outside, but thankfully, he’s bundled in one of his thousands of hoodies. Small mercies.

On the ten-minute walk home, he finally—finally—pulls out his phone, switching it back on after leaving it dead for almost a day. A mistake, honestly, because the moment it powers up, a tidal wave of missed calls and texts floods his notifications. Hu Tao’s name is everywhere, along with a few from Scaramouche and Kazuha.

And then—

A new group chat?

‘besties headquarters’

What fresh hell is this?

He taps on it.

who tao: BARBATOS!!! are u there, mate? who tao: bitch, answer me. twinnie??? who tao: come out, come out, wherever u are~ 😋 who tao: fuck, am so worried abt u bro reply ASAP lumine: what happened? :o who tao: this bitch puked on me. well, not ON me, but he threw up last night and ive been trying to call him but bitch wouldn’t answer my calls !!!!! 😤💢 xiangling: huh? why? aether: WHAT aether: also, who made this gc? who tao: ME who tao: BC THIS IS AN EMERGENCY venti: hu tao, you’re exaggerating bestie 😣 who tao: THERE U ARE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT LAST NIGHT WHY WOULNDT U ANSWER MY CALLS I STG BARBATOS venti: im sorry !!! i wasn’t in the mood to talk :’( lumine: what’s wrong, venti? :( lumine: also, can i add amber to this gc? who tao: GO BESTIE ADD THE GF. also,, twinnie, r u okay now? r u feeling well? :// amber: oh, wow hello :3 lumine: hi baby i love you >:)< amber: i love you too, bbygirl 😘 what’s going on here? xingqiu: What’s up, my lieges? :D venti: nothing, nothing’s wrong. what’s this gc for…? who tao: mona, u tell him what u saw who tao: MONA !!!!!!!! venti: just tell me hu tao u’re scaring me lumine: yeah, just spill the beans hu :o xiangling: do it !! who tao: fine, fine 😩 who tao: so idk where yall been last night but eula went to our school and she kissed xiao 😭😭😭 xingqiu: WAIT WHAT aether: EULA? AS IN EULA THE MODEL EULA??? amber: WTF WHAT who tao: I KNOW I KNOW IM SHOOK AS FUCK AS WELL xingqiu: BUT OMG SHE KISSED XIAO?? LIKE ON THE LIPS??? 😳😳😳😳😳 venti: on his cheek, xingqiu… xingqiu: oh xingqiu: but WAIT IM SO LOST WHY WAS SHE AT OUT COLLEGE who tao: that, we have no clue 😑 who tao: but she was there and it seems like she knows xiao and xiao seemed to be expecting her too 😶 who tao: and then, mona… Mona where the fuck are u u should be the one telling them !!!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬 mona: OI OI OK IM HERE WHAT’S GOING ON NOW who tao: there u are u moraless git. tell venti what u saw! lumine: ksjdkajdlq mona: FUCK U HU TAO who tao: FUCK URSELF aether: ok wait this is making my head spin… 🤕 lumine: u and me both brother 🥺 venti: does everyone just… really know how i feel about my best friend? who tao: YES mona: YUP xingqiu: UHUH xiangling: PRETTY MUCH YES lumine: yes, venti 😊 amber: ^ aether: yeah hehe venti: i hate you all 😭 who tao: u love us 😚 lumine: we love u, venti 🥰 who tao: MONA, FUCKING TALK mona: OK OK FUCK SHEESH. ok barbatos, idk how to tell u this, so i didn’t tell u right away, but i saw xiao and eula in a coffee shop the other day venti: oh venti: um wait mona before u continue to say anything, im just gonna

And then he does it—he leaves the group.

Can’t do it. Not now. Not when the ache in his chest is squeezing like a vice.

Because when he steps through the front door of the dorm, the first thing he sees is Xiao—on the couch, phone to his ear, voice light and breezy in a way Venti’s never heard before. And it’s her name that makes him freeze.

“That’s okay, Eula. We can talk more about it later. For now—”

Venti doesn’t let himself hear the rest. He drops his keys in the bowl by the door, shuffles past the living room without a word, without a glance. The hallway stretches like a tightrope. He gets to his door, closes it—not a slam, but not subtle either. Just loud enough.

He throws himself on the bed, limbs heavy, lungs hollow. Scrolls blindly through his contacts just to feel less tethered to this reality. And that’s when it comes:

[from: kitsune kazuha! 🤗🦊]

kazuha: Hi, Venti! :) venti: hey, kazuha !! 😊 kazuha: So, those ice creams? :D I’m actually free right now. Only if you’re up for it. venti: of course! let me just go get changed !! i’ll meet u at cat’s tail? 🍨🍦😸 kazuha: Sure! See you there :)

Thank heavens.

He peels himself off the mattress, trades his white hoodie for a teal one, something loose and comforting. Ties his twin braids tighter. Slips on glasses for flair. He doesn’t want to look nice. He wants to look unaffected. Like a walking lie.

He heads back out.

Xiao’s still on the couch, feet propped, phone pressed to his cheek. His voice trails behind Venti as he moves past the scene, akin to someone fading out of their own life, little by little. He puts on his slippers. Opens the door.

And leaves.

Xiao doesn’t even ask where he’s going.

**

When Venti arrives at Cat’s Tail, the first thing he sees through the frosted glass windows is Kazuha—already seated, dressed sharply in a black knitted sweater and crisp red shorts, looking like the softest kind of aesthetic rebellion. He’s sitting alone at a booth by the corner, tapping lightly at his phone screen, completely at ease in the golden ambient glow of the café.

Venti stops for a second outside, caught in a brief swell of guilt. Kazuha’s been waiting for him—how long, he doesn’t know—but it hits him that he’d been walking in a daze the entire way here, thoughts circling back like vultures, gnawing at his mood.

He pushes one of the double doors open and steps inside, where the scent of toasted waffles and vanilla cream rushes to meet him. Kaeya is manning the front, of course, effortlessly handsome as ever, lounging behind the counter like he owns the place.

“Venti, hey!” Kaeya greets with a warm lilt, his eye flicking over the bard with practiced ease.

Venti smiles out of habit. “Hello, Kaeya.”

It’s a flimsy smile, and maybe Kaeya notices, but—thankfully—he doesn’t pry. No teasing, no commentary, just his usual charm. “Here to dine?” he asks, grin unfading.

Venti nods, forcing some enthusiasm back into his voice. “Just ice cream. With a friend.”

He spots Kazuha looking up from his phone just then, those mellow garnet eyes brightening when they lock with Venti’s. The boy waves, and Venti waves back, quick to cross the room and collapse beside him with a sheepish bump of their elbows.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, trying to keep the teasing light. “Didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?”

Kazuha slips his phone into his pocket and flashes him a smile, ever so slightly flustered. “Nah. I just got here myself.”

There’s that same shy look again—the faintest pink rising to his cheeks. Kazuha has a way of smiling like a secret is sitting on the tip of his tongue, and for some reason, that makes Venti’s heart stutter a beat.

“What would you like to have?” Kazuha asks, voice kind, patient.

Venti props his elbows on the table and cradles his face in his palms, humming in thought. “Hmm… buttered pecan, maybe? No, wait—actually, birthday cake. Yeah. I want that one. You know, the one with the buttery frosting and cake chunks and rainbow sprinkles.” He lets out a weak chuckle. “I think I need something sweet. I’m kinda… feeling blue.”

He says it like a joke, but it isn’t. The ache is real, dulled only slightly by the smell of sugar and the promise of cold sweetness. He just hopes Kazuha doesn’t ask what’s wrong, because gods, if he has to explain anything right now—he’ll break.

Thankfully, Kazuha just smiles. “You weren’t kidding about working here. You’ve memorized the ingredients?”

“A bit, yeah,” Venti chirps, grateful for the change in topic. He shrugs. “Not like I make the ice cream or anything, but… I did go on this random research spiral once. Google, y’know. It happens.”

“That’s so awesome,” Kazuha says with genuine delight, and for a second, it startles Venti how easily those words could warm his chest.

Then Kazuha rises and announces, “Tonight’s on me,” before heading over to the counter, where Fischl and Noelle are stationed and chatting between orders.

When he returns, he’s carrying two sugar cones. Venti’s is stacked with colorful birthday cake swirls, while Kazuha’s is the plainest vanilla scoop with a single bright cherry on top—neat, simple, classic. It almost makes Venti laugh. Of course. Kazuha looks like his own ice cream order.

They sit side by side, letting the chill and sweetness lull them into comfort. Kazuha talks about school, his professors, something about a group project, and Venti lets himself drift, listening, responding here and there. He doesn’t have the energy to do much else.

And then his phone vibrates in his pocket. He expects it to be Scaramouche, maybe sending more weird memes or trying to lock down plans for tonight. But it’s not.

[from: xiao bestieee 🏃♂️🤨📸]

xiao: hey. where are you? venti: ? xiao: what do you mean “?“ venti: 🙄 out with a friend venti: u rlly didnt see me come in earlier did u xiao: i did. who’s this friend? venti: ah u did u jus didnt bother acknowledging me lol venti: and it’s kazuha xiao: ah ok venti: need anything? 🤨 xiao: what time will u be coming back? venti: why does it matter? 🧐 xiao: it does. why are you being a pain? venti: oh, am i now? being a pain in xiao’s arse ehehehehe 🙄🙄🙄 xiao: venti…… venti: FINE. IN A BIT! IM COMING HOME IN A BIT. but i won’t be staying long, im getting myself drunk at scara’s house party later xiao: you’re really going there? venti: ofc. i want free drinks xiao: k. suit yourself then

Venti leaves the conversation with Xiao behind, buried under sarcasm and ellipses, choosing instead to return his full attention to Kazuha, who’s just now finishing off the last bite of his vanilla cone. The soft crunch reechoes between them, sort of, and Venti can’t help the snort that escapes him when he notices a smear of white along Kazuha’s cheek, right by the corner of his lips.

“Hold still,” he instructs, leaning in with ease born of familiarity, reaching forward to swipe the spot clean with a single finger. Without a doubt, Kazuha startles at the touch, blinking, eyes shifting to meet Venti’s—wide and scrawled. Venti, however, still in his teasing element, grins mischievously and licks the ice cream from his finger, all with an exaggerated flourish. “You made a mess,” he croons, sticking his tongue out at him.

But the moment turns strangely stilted.

Because just as Venti pulls back, he notices something different in Kazuha’s gaze—something hushed and shuddering at the edges. It’s quite an overnice transference but incontrovertible. Kazuha leans forward, narrowly perceptible at first, and then more surely, closing his eyes as though he’s stepping into something fragile. Something he’s dreamt about.

And Venti stills.

“K-Kazuha…? What are you—”

He jerks his head away, heart stuttering wildly in his chest, ears burning hot. The breath between them fissures like glass.

For a long, awkward beat, neither of them speaks.

Then, quietly—thick with regret—Kazuha murmurs, “Shit… Venti, I’m…I’m sorry.”

Venti swallows, facing the opposite direction. His voice comes out strangled, caught in the middle of trying to soften the blow and the heft of his anguish. “Um… that’s weird…” He laughs, but it sounds wrong, stiff, crumbly even to his own ears.

Then, his attention returns to his companion.

Kazuha’s gaze drops to his lap, red flushing up his neck, and the sight of him looking so crushed stabs at Venti’s heart more than he wants to admit. But the truth is… he can’t deal with this right now. He can’t. He came here to breathe, to feel okay for once. To forget.

He didn’t come here to be someone’s torment.

“I didn’t mean to, Venti,” Kazuha says again, softer this time. A whisper.

“I know,” Venti replies, standing up slowly. “It’s okay. Might’ve just been a… spur of the moment thing.”

You almost stole my first kiss.

He doesn’t say that part aloud.

“I think…” He glances down at the unfinished scoop in his hand. It’s melting now, dripping between his fingers. “I should go.”

Kazuha looks up, eyes wide and hurt, lips parting as if to protest, but no words come out. He stands too, reluctantly, hands curling into fists outside his pockets. He doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t beg. Just treks after him as they head for the exit.

Fischl, Noelle, and Kaeya call out goodbyes behind the counter, unaware of the change in the atmosphere. Perhaps. Venti throws them a small wave over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” he tells them, mind already miles away.

They walk in reticence, the moonlight nictitating across the pavement in long, pale strokes.

“Um… Venti?”

He halts in his steps. Inhales. Exhales. Turns halfway.

“Yeah, Kazuha?”

“Let me walk you to the station… at least?”

There’s something so small and sincere in how he says it—hopeful and ashamed in equal measure. Kazuha, standing there with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking like he’d accompany Venti all the way home if he asked, if it meant making up for what just happened.

Venti softens.

This boy. This sweet boy. Venti already loves being around him. He just… doesn’t know how to hold this moment without dropping it.

“Of course,” he responds, a faint smile curling his lips.

Kazuha beams, as if a storm just passed and the sun came out again, and they begin their leisure stroll through the winding streets toward the station. Neither of them speaks. There’s no need. The evening air, restful and brisk, does all the talking on their behalf.

**

When Venti steps through the foyer of the dorm, the first thing that hails him isn’t privacy. It’s Xiao.

“Had fun with your boyfriend?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest, one brow arched with an insufferable concoction of sarcasm and accusation. His tone proves acute, almost cold.

Venti stumbles, his foot not even past the threshold. He snaps his gaze up at Xiao, a scowl carving its way onto his face. “He’s not my boyfriend!” he snaps, fists balling at his sides. The second Xiao rolls his eyes in reply, something inside Venti itches to scream. “And how about you, Xiao? Did you have fun with your girlfriend?” he fires back, nodding toward the phone still clutched in Xiao’s hand.

For a moment, there’s skepticism.

A pause.

Xiao’s brows furrow, as if confused—or worse, caught off guard. Like he’s trying to decide how to fucking lie about it.

Well, Venti refuses to wait. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.” His voice wavers as he brushes past Xiao and storms toward his room. That delay—however short—is all the confirmation he needs. It’s true, then. It’s fucking true.

Fine. Whatever.

He’ll survive. He always does. He’ll smile and laugh with his friends and pretend none of this eats at him. Starting now, he’ll crush every last bit of affection he’s spent years cultivating, and bury whatever hope he used to harbor. Xiao is just a friend. A best friend. Nothing more. That’s all it will ever be.

Starting tonight.

[from: scaramouche 🛹😆🧢]

scaramouche: sooo, is my crush coming over tonight?? 😘 venti: yes. wait for me, i’ll be there scaramouche: ALRIGHTTTTT!! 😍😍😍🥳🥳🥳 scaramouche: see you, baby!!! take care on your way here! you know my address, yeah?? 🥰 venti: yep scaramouche: okay!!! 😘😘😘 venti: are u already drinking? u sure are energetic 🤨 scaramouche: HAHAH MAYBE?? 🥂🥳 venti: goodness! wait until i get there at least !! 😩 scaramouche: HFASJFSAD JUST BE HERE! ILL BE WAITING, VENTI, MY BELOVED SMOOCH SMOOCH SMOOCH venti: gross, scaramouche 🤢

Venti tosses his phone onto the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, where he scrubs his face and brushes his teeth like he’s washing the whole day out of his pores. He unties his braids, letting his hair fall loose in wonky waves that frame his face. His reflection in the mirror… smiling to a degree, tapping his cheeks to fake a teensy life into them, feels pointless.

Nonetheless, he’s glad Xiao isn’t out there in the living room, for once. One less thing to ignite his already short temper.

He throws open his closet and rifles through his clothes. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a house party; he’s going to look good. He’s going to feel good. Or at least pretend.

He settles on a gray Nike set. Baggy sweatpants and a matching pullover, decorated in bold white checks, paired with a varsity jacket in blue, orange, and white, ironed-on patches with too much care for someone trying to let go of things. His white sneakers are spotless. The socks, too. A duck soup armor for tonight.

He checks himself once more in the mirror. Breathes out. Then heads for the door.

“Oi, Xiao!” he calls out, pausing by the entryway.

“What?” comes Xiao’s voice from down the hall, disinterested.

“You coming to Scaramouche’s party or what? He’s asking about you.”

A lie. Scaramouche hadn’t said a word about him. But Venti’s still hoping. Still wishing.

“No,” Xiao replies flatly. “Have fun with Kazuha.”

There it is.

Venti rolls his eyes hard enough it hurts. “Jackass,” he mutters under his breath, yanks the door open, and steps into the night.

The cab he flags down is already waiting, and as he clambers inside, he scoots into the seat with a sigh. Let Xiao be an ass. Let him be charming, perfect, infuriating—and completely, heartbreakingly unavailable.

Venti isn’t going to think about it anymore. Not tonight.

He’s going to get sloshed.

And forget.

**

The house is massive. No—colossal. It’s exactly the kind of place you bank on to see in a lifestyle magazine, all pristine walls and modern opulence, not in the hands of a college student who wears beaten Vans and talks in memes. But here it is: Scaramouche’s home, standing like a wisenheimer monument to generational wealth. And Venti? He’s floored.

It dawns, belatedly, why Scaramouche once offhandedly said he wasn’t taking college too seriously. “Photography isn’t really my thing,” he’d mused a second time one afternoon over fries, “but my cousins made it work. I figured I’d give it a shot. People say I have an eye for moments.”

Venti stares up at the mansion, caught in awe and mild vertigo. Bass is thumping from inside, metrical and primal, shaking the ground at his feet. The whole place is alive—corruscating strobe lights pulse behind wide-paned windows, and the trap music’s evocation rolls down the street like thunder. Students stream toward the front gate in packs, laughing, shouting, carrying bottles and bags as they herd toward the wide front lawn. Car doors slam, another Uber pulls away, and the scent of beer and perfume hangs heavy in the air.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” says Mona, dryly and knowing, “he was born with a platinum spoon.”

Venti turns to see her beside him, in a glittering crimson bodycon dress that hugs her like a threat. Her hair’s undone and agrestal, lipstick dark as blood, eyes sharp as ever. She doesn’t even look surprised by the scale of the house—more like she’s mildly impressed again.

“Didn’t expect this,” Venti admits, blinking up at the sheer height of the front door.

Mona just hums and pinches his chin, flashing a smirk. “Don’t be so shocked. Half our friends are loaded—you just never noticed because you’ve been busy playing housewife to you-know-who.”

At the mention of Xiao, Venti’s heart sinks like a lead weight into his gut. The spark of curiosity dulls immediately. The urge to get drunk slams into him so hard it almost knocks the wind out of his lungs. No, he needs to black out tonight. Drown the ache. Dance until his knees give and forget everything with the help of ethanol.

“Don’t bring him up,” he clips, bitter. “We’re here to get absolutely obliterated, aren’t we?”

Mona grins like a wolf in lipstick. “Exactly. Think of what I told you in the group chat earlier. And go feral, babe.”

“Say less.”

They link arms and stride forward. Their little party grows on the way—Xingqiu, looking suspiciously overdressed for a rager; Chongyun, bashful and wide-eyed as ever; Hu Tao, glittering under the porch light with her hair high in a sleek pony and a red Solo cup already in hand, somehow dancing before she’s even inside.

“Let’s fucking gooooo!” Hu Tao cheers, practically tackling them both in greeting with a kiss to each cheek. “I am ready to sin!”

The moment the doors open, they’re swallowed by pandemonium.

Inside, the party is already a fever dream: neon lights cut through fog from a smoke machine, strobe lights spin and bounce off glass and tiles, and a DJ is perched in one corner behind a booth, bass shaking the walls as if the house has a heartbeat of its own. It’s heat, sweat, spilled liquor, and something untamed beneath all the gyrating bodies.

Venti barely has time to process it before a chummy voice slices through the haze.

“BABY!”

Scaramouche.

The host barrels toward him, to all intents and purposes vibrating with booze and adrenaline, hair tousled, black shirt rumpled over black shorts. It’s criminal how laid-back he looks in this cathedral of wealth. Venti’s scooped up into a hug that reeks of vodka and victory.

“Baby yourself,” Venti snorts, laughing in his ear, half-hugging him back, half-trying to breathe. Mona rolls her eyes and peels the clingy boy off him with veteran adroitness.

Scaramouche grins, rosy pink and sweating. “So glad you made it,” he asserts, glass of champagne in one hand. “Drinks are behind you. Kitchen’s open. My dad’s on some business trip with fiancée number three, so. House is all ours tonight.” He lets out a laugh, but it sounds sharp-edged under the tipsy joy.

Venti catches the note of acrimony. By a hair’s breadth. But he decides not to press. Tonight’s not for excavating. It’s for misbehaving.

“Already got mine!” Hu Tao chirps, swinging her cup. “Didn’t want to break your rich-boy glasses. I get rowdy when I’m fucked.”

“Good,” Mona mutters, sipping her own drink. “We love a wild card.”

With that, Hu Tao snatches Mona’s hand and pulls her into the crowd, hips already swaying, disappearing into the swirl of lights and music.

Meanwhile, Venti turns to the bar.

This evening, he’s not Venti the dormmate. Not Venti the pining best friend. Not the overachiever, not the music nerd, not the one who watches Xiao from the corner of his eye and waits for moments that never come. No. Tonight, he’s just another body in the house of a boy who calls him baby, in a gaggle of friends who want him happy, in a cloud of noise where feelings don’t have names.

…Xingqiu and Chongyun are already lost to the tide, laughing somewhere in the expanse of bodies, drinks in hand, consumed by the splurt of the concourse. Venti watches them disappear, much like waves retreating from shore. He turns toward the entrance again, just in time to spot Ganyu stepping inside, flanked by Lumine, Amber, and Aether. An ensemble cast making their slow-motion entrance.

“Hey!” he calls, hand raised, and it may be half-hearted, but Scaramouche appears beside him as if summoned by it, pressing a blue plastic cup into Venti’s hand with a grin too vain for someone likely halfway to blitzed. Rum and Coke, Venti guesses. The smell thwacks him in the throat.

He takes a swig anyway. Gods, he’s missed this. The sting. The comfort. The easy numbness that starts behind his ribs and spreads like dye in water.

Ganyu and the others reach him, greeted by whoops and quick hugs, grateful smiles as Scaramouche grandly announces that everything is on the house—and adds, “No pun intended,” with a wink.

Venti’s not laughing, but the others seem amused.

Didn’t Scaramouche explicitly say everyone had to bring their own booze? Venti vaguely recalls that somewhere in the initial invites. But he figures—rich kid prerogative. He can afford to forget his own rules.

“You’re here before us!” Ganyu yells over the tumultuous bass, which now cannonades below Kendrick Lamar’s DNA. “I thought you’d be with Xiao! Why isn’t he with you? Where is he, by the way?”

Venti’s teeth grit behind his grin.

“I don’t know, Ganyu! He said he’s not coming!” he yells back, severe than necessary.

Her brows furrow, puzzlement written across her delicate features. But Venti shrugs her off.

“Maybe he’s with his girlfriend,” he adds, flippantly and venomously. Just to spite. And it lands precisely how he wants; Ganyu’s eyes go wide, but Venti doesn’t stall to decode the rest of her reaction. He pivots to Scaramouche instead, nudges him once on the shoulder.

“What is it, babe?” Scaramouche slurs, marginally, smile still charmingly lopsided.

“Another one, please.” Venti leans in, mouth by his ear.

Scaramouche flashes him a foxy look—half-lidded, already scanning him for the sort of buzz he’s aiming for. He disappears for only a few minutes before returning with two more cups—vodka and lime this time.

Good. Venti prefers it stronger.

He hoists himself onto one of the barstools, drink in hand, and lets the babble befog around him. Lumine and Amber are off somewhere in the corner, dancing like they’re the only ones in the room. Amber’s arms snug around Lumine’s waist, their foreheads nearly touching. It’s a sight that feels… too soft for this type of hullabaloo. Venti watches for a beat too long, until shame burns through him for witnessing something so private. He looks away, the lime vodka singeing his throat.

It warms his chest. He wants more.

This, he thinks sourly, this is the closest thing I have to therapy.

Another gulp. Then another. If he’s lucky, he’ll pass out in a stranger’s lap before he starts crying again.

He’s a joke. A wimp. A boy with an aching heart who never had the courage to say what mattered. He didn’t even tell Xiao how he feels. Of course, Xiao doesn’t know. Of course, he didn’t mean to break me.

And still…it fucking hurts.

He swirls the ice in his cup, tongue numb, and chuckles to himself, pathetically. Somewhere in the madness, Xiangling arrives, dragging in a giant bottle like it’s her date, and behind her, Keqing, always immaculate even in a house party. A whole flock. Everyone’s here.

Everyone but him.

Venti checks his phone on impulse. A new message.

‘don’t drink too much’ ‘ask scaramouche to drive u and ganyu back’

He scoffs aloud, thumb hovering over the screen. Now he wants to play protective? Now, when he didn’t even spare a second glance earlier that day?

Please. As if Venti’s going to swoon over crumbs.

He swipes out of the chat without replying, then pulls up his messages with Albedo instead. where are you?

A few minutes and two more shots later, Scaramouche sending them over with a flourish like he’s running bottle service at a Vegas club, Venti’s head spins slightly. His cheeks are flushed, vision warm-edged. He’s starting to feel pleasantly gone.

And then:

albaedo: I’m already here.

He looks up, scanning the room, and—

There.

By the archway, slipping through the crowd like he doesn’t even try to be graceful, Albedo stands. In black. Nothing fancy. Just a plain tee, a windbreaker, ripped jeans. But gods, he looks good.

Venti's eyes travel from his dark shirt to the glint of the chain at his neck, to his messy, half-tied hair, and pacific, comely posture. Albedo’s never tried to be the center of attention, but somehow he always is. And next to him—Aether, dressed clean and crisp, maroon varsity jacket gleaming under the lights.

They look like a perfectly framed photo already. And Venti, despite everything swirling inside him, feels something tender press up against the crevices of his drunken haze. Finally, he thinks. Two people who deserve good things.

Even if he’s nowhere near having it himself.

…And even if he’s still wondering why the person he wants most isn’t the one he’s drinking with tonight.

“Albedo!” Venti shouts, rising above the pounding storm of bodies and booming music. He doesn’t miss how Aether jolts at the name, head snapping up like a deer caught in headlights. Perfect. Venti winks at him—teasing, pointed—and watches the poor boy flush red to his ears, visibly fidgeting.

Albedo weaves his way toward the sound of his name, shouldering through clusters of grinding limbs and neon-lit silhouettes. Venti hops off the stool in a valiant attempt to meet him halfway—and nearly topples both of them to the floor. He crashes into Albedo, ungraceful and giggling, the room lurching around him like a bad carnival ride.

“Whoa—okay,” Albedo murmurs, catching him, steady as a pillar. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine~” Venti answers too quickly, hiccupping. Oh. So it begins.

“You’re wasted, and I haven’t even said hi properly.”

“Nooo, who says I’m off my trolley? I’m great, thank you very much~” Venti sings, slurring just enough to double-cross the lie. He lets out a peal of laughter, too loud, too loose. Hell…

Ganyu pops up behind them, very suddenly, a whisper turned human. “Let’s get you to sit somewhere. Come on, Venti,” she insists gingerly, guiding him toward a long leather couch tucked into the side of the room. He flops down without protest, head falling against the armrest. It’s cold, surprisingly comforting. The world continues to spin.

In the haze, he makes out the vague shapes of Xingqiu and Chongyun, carrying a glass of water. Chongyun hands it over. Venti accepts it without comment and downs it in one long gulp. The water tastes like glass and regret.

From the corner of his bleary vision, he spots Ganyu with Keqing now—fingers laced, Keqing brushing cerulean strands behind Ganyu’s ear, earning a bashful smile in return. Adorable. Venti swallows around the convulsion.

Even Qiqi, he thinks mournfully, even the oblivious child will grow up to be devastatingly beautiful because it’s in their genes. And him? He’ll be here. Drunk and inconsolable at twenty-eight, probably, because someone kissed Xiao once, and he’s never emotionally recovered.

Mona flops beside him, hair corybantic and lips red like wine spilled on snow. Her head drops onto his shoulder.

“Hey, Mona… where’d you vanish to?” he mumbles.

“Around,” she answers. The bass drowns out the rest.

Venti giggles, casting his gaze back to the crowd. There’s Scaramouche, flanked by Xiangling and Hu Tao, laughing over something he’s said, cups in hand. Aether and Albedo hover nearby, in their own orbit, while Lumine and Amber are slow dancing to whatever-the-hell-this-song-is, swaying with their foreheads pressed together.

And then there’s Venti, who sits alone on this couch like the world’s saddest decoration.

Fuck this.

He springs up, Mona yelping as he dislodges her.

“Where are you going? Come back, you traitorous pillow!” she protests, reaching for him, but Venti shrugs her off, stumbling toward the bar. He’s a man on a mission, alright.

He grabs a bottle—beer, something light—and chugs it straight from the neck, the liquid running down his chin, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t care. Beer’s supposed to settle the hard stuff anyway, yeah?

When he finishes, he lets out a savage burp and slams the bottle on the counter. The clang reverberates, and somewhere, someone cheers. Venti turns, ablaze, and raises both arms like he just won a marathon. He howls. People howl back. The crowd welcomes him like a fallen god returned.

He throws himself into the center of the hue and cry. Bodies bounce. Beats drop. The strobe lights twinkle like broken stars. Venti dances.

And he dances hard.

Xingqiu and Chongyun reappear, drawn by the vortex of Venti’s hysteria.

“Barbatos! You good again?” Xingqiu shouts, breathless with laughter.

“Of course! Don’t you know who I am? It’s me! Venti the chugging master!” he hoots, puffed with self-importance. He spins, pointing back at the bar. “Did you see me? I finished that bottle in one go!”

They lose it—Xingqiu doubling over, Chongyun pink in the cheeks, muttering something about getting him some food. But Venti’s too far gone to hear. Too far gone to care.

Scaramouche materializes at his side, grin lazy and eyes fever-bright. He hands over a shot glass like it’s sacred. “More?”

Venti beams. “Of course!”

“You’re the chugging master, after all,” Scaramouche grouses, emulating him with devilish glee.

“I am!” Venti cheers, laughing. Uncontrollably.

The liquor hits like fire.

Then Scaramouche’s arms are around him, hands snaking up his back, pulling them closer, hips pressing in time with the beat. Venti melts into it, caught up in the swing, the proximity, the intoxicating hotness of another body giving him something to hold on to.

And then—

“Your boy’s arrived, by the way,” Scaramouche mutters into his ear.

Venti doesn’t understand. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t need to.

He ignores it, keeps dancing, lets Scaramouche press into him as the music slows into something sensual and slurred. He sees Ganyu and Keqing not far from them—kissing now, tender and deep and hungry. Venti feels it like a roundhouse wallop.

Fuck.

He wants that. He wants that.

He wants to kiss someone until he forgets who he is. He wants someone’s fingers in his hair, someone’s voice in his ear saying his name like it’s holy.

He wants to kiss someone he loves.

Xiao.

His chest constricts. His throat tightens.

No. Don’t. He shakes his head, trying to will the thought away. Not tonight. Not when you’re drunk. You’ll cry.

You’ll cry.

You’ll fucking cry.

And crying, he knows, would undo him completely.

His eyes wander, dazed and languid, over the cavernous room. This thing… with ceilings so tall they feel like they’re pressing down on the sky. There’s a balcony above, overlooking the lusterless, congested floor, and Venti feels like, if he blinked too long, the place might just collapse into a dream.

He scans the throng of party-goers, and the sight that holds him fast is across the room: Albedo and Aether. Tucked away near the other bar, they aren’t exactly kissing, aren’t dancing either, aren’t even cradling each other close—but they’re holding hands. Hands shyly, in low tones, clasped between them like a vow. And they’re tittering at something. Something small. Something just for them.

It’s nothing loud or dramatic. But it’s supple. It’s bona fide.

Venti is so happy for them he could cry.

So he does. Just a little. The tears rise uninvited, resting along the brim of his eyes like a secret he doesn’t want to tell. His vision blurs… slightly so… enough that the lights dissolve into a watercolor mess. He sniffles, biting down a smile, and turns his gaze back to Scaramouche, who’s watching him wordlessly.

“You’re really pretty, Venti,” the guy says, tone uncharacteristically calm, almost reverent. “Hope you know that.”

It catches him off-guard. The way he says it. Like it isn’t just flattery. Like it’s something true he’s been holding in his pocket all night.

“I—I… um—” Venti stammers, tripping over himself.

Scaramouche chuckles—veiled, not mocking. “Relax. It’s a compliment. Just saying it as it is.” He tips his head to the side. “I know you don’t like me like that. It’s cool. I mean, I don’t even like like you in that way. But it’s still true. I do have a crush on you, you know.”

Venti blinks. He doesn’t know what to do with that—can’t hold it, can’t return it, can’t even examine it.

So instead, he waves toward the drinks. “Um. More?” he quizzes, in that delicate, tipsy slur that’s already lost its edge.

Scaramouche—unbothered, cheeky, warm—simpers as if he expected nothing less. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He bows with a flourish and disappears into the mob.

When he comes back, he’s holding a coupe glass filled with something red and shining. It smells like cherry, ice, and trouble. Venti swallows it in two mouthfuls. It burns sweetly.

Scaramouche takes the glass from his hand like it’s a ritual they’ve done a hundred times. “As I was saying…”

“Mmm?” Venti hums dreamily, head swaying to the music again. His smile is soft. His body lax. His thoughts are oil slicks.

“I just…” Scaramouche shrugs one shoulder, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. “I can’t keep watching you rip yourself apart over Xiao. I mean—come on. Just say something to him already. You’re both miserable and weird, and everyone knows you’re obsessed with each other. It’s not that hard. Look at me.” He grins. “Told you how I feel, didn’t I?”

Oh.

Venti chortles, but there’s no quality in it. Just an empty, hollow sort of deride that evaporates at the fringes. Scaramouche is talking sense. So much sense for a party.

But Venti doesn’t reply. He can’t. His stomach lurches. He presses a hand to it.

Shit.

The nausea creeps in sharp, fast, and he knows what this is. He didn’t eat. Too much ice cream, not enough real food. Too much booze, not enough self-control.

He clutches his middle and stumbles off, muttering, “Bathroom,” as he slips away from Scaramouche.

No directions. No plan. Just blind fumbling.

The house is massive—practically a maze, every hallway the same sprawling white, every door a mystery. As he stumbles past the kitchen, he catches Amber and Lumine, pressed against the island, kissing like they’ve got no air left in the world but each other’s mouths.

“Get a room, you maniacs,” Venti hollers, whistling. Lumine flips him off mid-makeout without even turning her head.

He cackles. That’s fair.

He staggers on, brushing his palms along the walls to steady himself. Door after door—locked, dark, someone inside—until finally, fucking finally, one opens to a bathroom. Thank the archons.

He stumbles in, beelining for the toilet. He pees. Flushed. Sits down on the lid after, dizzy and breathless and soaked in the tail-end of a high that already feels like it’s turning against him.

It’s dim inside, the mirror cracked at the corner, and for a second… it’s just him.

Just Venti. Tiny and quiet. Spinning a bit, eyelids heavy, chest full of words he’s never said.

He breathes.

Just breathes.

Then… closes his eyes.

And the second he does, the memory rushes in—ruthless and uninvited. Eula. Xiao. That clement voice he thought he knew so well, murmuring her name like it meant something devotional. The flash of her perfect face, and Xiao’s secrecy through it all.

Venti’s hands crimp into fists over his knees.

His own best friend. The one person he’d clung to for years. The one who knew how he liked his tea, how he cried during movies and refused to admit it, how he hummed when he cooked, and how he never once… never once mentioned there was someone else. Not even a hint.

Why? Why hide it? Why couldn’t Xiao trust him with this?

Or maybe it wasn’t trust at all. Maybe he just didn’t care to tell Venti. Maybe Venti had been wrong this whole time—mistaking closeness for something more, threading meaning into things that were only ever surface-deep. The late-night talks. The teasing. The forehead flicks. The shared silence that always felt full.

All of it, Venti now realizes, could’ve just been nothing. Casual. Friendly. One-sided.

He sniffles. It starts there. Small. Then it unravels.

The tears spill quietly, painting blurred smudges athwart his vision. His lips quiver, and he hates that he can’t control it. He feels pathetic, utterly useless, curled up in someone’s bathroom like he’s fourteen and dejected for the first time. Maybe he is.

No one knows how much this hurts. No one sees this version of him—not even Xiao, who should’ve been the first to notice. The pain he’s kept silent has festered into something overpowering.

Why her? he wonders grievously. Why her and not me?

But he already knows the answer. Eula is everything he’s not. Graceful, radiant, composed. Untouchable. She belongs in the kind of life Xiao keeps behind locked doors. One that Venti’s never been allowed to touch.

He remembers the way Xiao spoke to her on the phone… Respectful, polite, tender. That wasn’t the way he spoke to Venti. Venti got the clipped remarks, the sarcasm, the eye-rolls. Eula got hospitality. Kindness.

And he’s jealous. Gods, he’s so fucking jealous it claws at him.

Venti scrubs his face with both palms, fingers digging into his cheeks as if he could just erase this emotion. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hoarsely and breaking. “Fuck.”

He hunches over the sink and throws up—sour, acidic, humiliating. He gags, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His chest is still heaving, and his face feels hot and raw from sobbing. He turns the faucet on to rinse the sink, eyes unable to focus on the water dribbling away.

And then—

The door opens.

He’s too disoriented to shout, too dizzy to care. He expects to be annoyed. Mortified. But then he lifts his gaze to the mirror, and everything inside him lurches.

Xiao.

It’s Xiao, standing in the doorway with a frown carved into that stupidly beautiful face, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched.

“What’s going on with you?” Xiao’s voice is compact, lined with worry. “Are you… crying? I’ve been here for an hour looking for you. Everyone has.”

Venti blinks. Dream. This has to be a dream. He stares harder, heart pummeling too fast.

“You’re not real,” he murmurs. “This… this is a dream. I’m hallucinating.”

“What—Venti, what are you talking about?”

He reaches forward and brushes his fingers against Xiao’s cheek, soft and warm and, in no uncertain terms, tangible. He shivers. “Why would I be explaining myself to you? You’re just a dream, aren’t you?” His voice is dainty, plodding. It’s the only way he can stop himself from falling apart again.

“You’re reeking of alcohol.”

“Yeah?” Venti sniggers weakly. “Even dream-Xiao is a nag. Nice.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” he whimpers. “You don’t care, remember? Now move aside, I need to find my friends.”

He tries to shove past him, but a dense grip snags his arm—solid, bosom—and Venti is suddenly being hoisted off the floor. Strapping arms loop under his thighs, carrying him like he’s weightless.

Venti gasps, startled, then relaxes. The scent hits him; clean, tepid, indubitably Xiao—and he lets out a mellow, palpitating breath.

“I told you not to drink too much.”

“You did?” Venti mumbles. “I can’t r-remember…” His breath hitches. Another hiccup. His heart’s pounding, not from the alcohol, but from being this close to the one person he’s been trying to run from all night.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m taking you home.”

Home.

The word cleaves to him. Venti clings tighter, burying his face in this…Xiao���s neck.

“Home… Where’s home?” he purls. “The only home I know is with Xiao…”

There’s a pause. A beat of silence that vibrates between them.

“…Xiao, huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice is fading now, twining into something gooey. “He’s my home. He always has been.”

And then, serenely, Venti closes his eyes.

**

The next time Venti blinks his eyes open, he’s no longer in the loud haze of the party but seated in the passenger seat of a car. It’s dark outside—purely streetlights sweeping past in laggy fluorescents, protruding fleeting shadows across his lap.

He blinks once. Twice.

The driver’s seat.

Xiao.

Venti’s heart spikes and climbs right up his throat. His mouth is parched, his head fuzzy, but somehow his eyes still manage to mist with tears he didn’t know were coming. He gawks at Xiao, the guy appearing placated, unruffled, indifferent, and suddenly everything inside him constricts.

“Why?” he croaks helplessly. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Why are you here? Why didn’t you tell me? Why is it always you, even when I’m falling apart?

But Xiao doesn’t serve, not at first. His eyes are on the road, hands on the wheel, knuckles taut-pale around the leather.

So Venti asks again, harsher this time, voice breaking as another tear rolls down his cheek. “Why, Xiao? Why are you here?”

A sigh. Heavy. Meagerly audible over the thrum of the car. Then: “I just knew this would happen. So I came early.”

You came for me.

“And… whose car is this?” Venti asks, a sudden bitterness rising like bile.

“Scaramouche’s.”

Right. Of course it is.

Venti swallows the knot in his throat, another tear falling freely. “What about the others? Ganyu, Hu Tao, everyone else? Why are we leaving them?”

“They’re fine,” Xiao replies curtly. “Everyone knows how to hold their liquor, Venti. Even Ganyu’s barely tipsy. You’re the only one who drank yourself into oblivion.”

There’s frustration in his voice. Not loud—but truncated and excruciating, like the edge of a blade.

Venti flinches as Xiao slams one hand against the wheel, not even shouting, but the gesture is sufficient, jerking something deep in him. The truth of it wedges through—he’s right. Venti was the only one who couldn’t hold it together. The only one who malfunctioned. The only one who needed saving.

And it burns.

His chest is a storm of shame and rage and grief, bubbling and dredging to escape. So he bites down on it. On everything.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, shaking like a leaf, voice discreet now. Angrier. “Who are you to boss me around, huh? You’re not my dad. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not anyone. You should’ve just stayed at the damn party with your new girlfriend.”

Xiao jerks his head, blinking and biting a terse, “What?”

“I said,” Venti’s voice climbs, breath hitching, “go back to Eula! Isn’t she waiting for you? Isn’t she your precious secret you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”

“What the fuck are you even saying right now—”

“I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND!” Venti screams, quaking mad in his seat, hands balled up on his lap. “I’m supposed to know things about you! I’m supposed to be the one you trust! But no, right? I’m nothing to you now, huh?! Just some roommate you share chores with! Some washed-up past! Why didn’t you tell me, Xiao?!”

The silence that comes after is so loud, it rattles Venti’s skull.

Xiao’s grip on the wheel is white-knuckled. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Venti snarls, and with fumbling fingers, he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Then tell me I’m wrong! Say it to my face, look me in the fucking eye and say it!”

And Xiao… does something Venti doesn’t expect.

The car swerves violently to the side, tires screeching as he pulls them onto the curb. Venti gasps as he’s jostled forward by momentum, only to be shoved back against the seat by Xiao’s clasp.

The next second, Xiao is unbuckling his own seatbelt, turning to him with a look that isn’t anger—it’s something immeasurable. Darker. More desperate.

“You never shut up, do you?” he mutters under his breath.

And then he kisses him.

There’s no warning—no softening. Just a hand cradling the back of his head and Xiao’s mouth crashing into his, raw and reckless and breathless. It takes a heartbeat for Venti to register what’s happening. That this is unfeigned. That Xiao is kissing him.

And that he’s kissing back.

The world stills. The noise in his chest, the whirlwind in his brain, the grief, the confusion—it all pauses as he melts into Xiao’s mouth, into his arms, into every bit of this moment that feels like it’s been waiting years to happen.

Xiao is trembling too. Venti can feel it in the way his fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket, the way his breath stutters between kisses.

Then they pull apart—by a whisker.

“I…” Venti’s broach is a breath. A thought. “I don’t… understand…”

“You’re not supposed to,” Xiao whispers, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “Not yet. Just… shut up for once, Venti. Let me do something right for you.”

And Venti—fuddled and dizzy and shattered—lets himself fall.

Because if this is a mistake, let it be the one he makes with the person who already ruined him.

Xiao, whose hand traces Venti’s spine, laboriously, stoutly, anchoring him, drawing them impossibly closer. His other hand cradles Venti’s face, thumb brushing across the curve of his cheekbone with a reverence that feels entirely out of place for how breathless and wild this kiss has become. Their mouths press harder, heads angling in tandem, like they’ve done this a thousand times before… in reveries neither dared to speak of.

When Xiao’s tongue ghosts over Venti’s bottom lip, miry and curious, Venti opens without a second thought, surrendering to the hilt. Whatever Xiao wants, he can have.

And Xiao… tastes like cherries in syrup. It floors him. Sweet and out of the blue, like something meant to tarry. And wow, Venti wants to taste it forever.

He’s floating, invaded by heat and sensation and the sound of Xiao’s breath hitching tacitly in his throat, supposing Venti’s touch undoes him. And it’s mutual. Every brush of lips, every nip and pull… every meek purr against his mouth sends sparks skittering down Venti’s spine.

He wraps his arms around Xiao like it’s instinct, like this is how it’s always ought to be—close, dolorous, tangled. Their kiss turns heady. Venti kisses back with something ravenous, something afraid, something that’s waited far too long to be let out. He can’t stop now. He doesn’t want to stop. Because for once, the longing in his chest isn’t met with silence.

This is concrete. This is him. The one he’s wanted for years. Xiao, kissing him like the world might collapse if they don’t keep touching.

He feels himself drowning in it, gasping softly against Xiao’s lips, a small, unintentional moan betraying just how thwarted he is. Done for. He needs more—more of this, more of Xiao, just more.

And Xiao… Xiao doesn’t hedge. The hands that roam Venti’s back now dip beneath the hem of his sweater, fingers splaying over warm skin, eliciting a shudder from him that feels like his bones are made of crystal. Xiao explores with seeming deference and hunger, at the rate he’s going, as though he’s mapping out something precious. Something he’s missed. Something he wants to memorize.

Their mouths never stop moving, Xiao guiding the cadence, pulling away solely to lean in again, deepening the kiss, claiming every ounce of Venti’s breath and thought. Venti lets him. Gladly. Because this—this is his first kiss, and it’s Xiao who’s giving it to him. Stealing it. Owning it.

And gods, if Venti could live in this moment forever, he would.

By the time they part, it’s with labored breath and swollen lips, foreheads not far from touching, a fragile strand of quietude binding them as they stare at each other. Disheveled, flushed, unhitched.

Xiao’s gaze is dark, unintelligible, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and glistening. Venti studies him like he’s art: the deranged sweep of his bangs, the flutter of his lashes, the fire simmering behind golden eyes. He looks like he wants him. Like he’s wanted him for a while. How?

“Xiao…” Venti breathes, dazed.

But Xiao only narrows his eyes, fingers lifting—he snaps them near Venti’s face.

“How many fingers?” he asks, of all things.

Seriously? Now? Venti blinks, but obliges. “Two.”

Xiao’s grip shifts to his chin, his gaze scanning Venti’s eyes. “Are you sober enough to know what you’re doing?”

“I am,” Venti groans, flopping back against the seat with a sulk. “Why?”

“Because we’re going home.”

And it’s the way he says it—low, rough, commanding—that has a tremor rattle down Venti’s spine. Something about how Xiao stares at him then, like a switch has flipped.

No protest comes from him. He buckles up.

The drive is quiet. The world slides past in a fog of shadows and streetlamps, but Venti doesn’t look away from Xiao, and Xiao doesn’t look away from the road.

When they finally reach the dorms, the ambience is glacial enough that Venti furls into himself, shivering. Xiao grabs his wrist and pulls him up the stairs in reticence, their footsteps sonorous against the marble. His pulse thuds in his ears.

He’s sober now. Not a trace of alcohol fogging his head. Just wanting. Just nerves and skin flushed from memory.

Xiao’s hands fumble with the keys, jittery. Not quite as smooth as usual, and Venti catches the tingle.

And then the door unlocks, and Xiao barely waits for it to swing open before he’s scooping Venti off his feet like he weighs nothing, causing a startled squeak to escape from Venti’s throat.

He clutches him instinctively as Xiao kicks the door shut behind them, carries him to the sofa, and lays him down with surprising gentleness, as if… he’s afraid of breaking him.

No words. Just their breath, their gazes. Xiao hovers, silhouetted by the city outside, staring down at Venti like he’s something sacred. Like he’s worth worship.

…Venti reaches up without thinking, fingers brushing his sleeve—silent permission.

Xiao doesn’t swither, simply leans down, meets his lips again, and this time, it’s slower. Deeper. Possessive.

And Venti feels owned. Claimed. Adored.

Xiao’s hand circles his wrist, not hard, just enough to make him stay, to keep him grounded—you’re mine, it says, you’re not going anywhere.

And… Venti doesn’t want to.

He’s waited years to be wanted like this.

And tonight, he finally is.

“Xiao…” he breathes, desire feather-soft between kisses, his mouth chasing after the other’s with quiet thirst. This kiss—it’s profound, heavier. It devours him. Xiao’s lips press hard and sure against his own, tongue coaxing his open with maddening ease, guiding him in that laggard, polished way that leaves Venti lightheaded, breath stuttering.

Xiao slots between his thighs, knees pressing into the cushions, forearms braced around Venti’s head. Their combined weight dips into the center of the couch as though it, too, gives in to the gravity pulling them together. Venti feels it in every part of his body—the traction, the way Xiao’s fragrance floods his nose, the brush of silky strands tickling his face. It’s overwhelming, it’s provoking, it’s everything.

And it’s fervent. Authentic.

After years of pining and hiding every raw thread of his longing, Venti is here, beneath Xiao, wrapped in him, and finally being kissed like it means something. Like he means something.

Their mouths part only for Xiao to kiss along Venti’s jaw, down the pale column of his throat, warm breath skating against sensitive skin. His lips remain at the crook of Venti’s neck, where he nips and soothes in turns—and Venti arches into it, already leaking need between his thighs, the heat swirling in his gut too potent to ignore.

Xiao pauses. Just long enough to pull back and yank his shirt over his head, flinging it aside. The moonlight spills over his body, seizing the sharp lines of his arms, the clean dips of his waist. He looks carved, ethereal and palpable all at once, and Venti swallows the knot in his throat.

Xiao helps him out of his sweater and jacket, fingers careful and considerate. Venti shivers under his touch—not from cold, but from the force of the moment. It’s evocative. Intimate. Reverent.

And then Xiao is bare-chested, breathing moor, those golden eyes sweeping over Venti’s face. The air between them goes still. It feels devout.

“You…” Venti murmurs, devastatingly awed. “You look so good, Xiao…”

Xiao doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smirk or tease or look away. Instead, he just…mitigates, visibly. It’s the kind of softness that doesn’t need words. He leans in, plants a kiss to Venti’s cheek, and murmurs back, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That’s all it takes—Venti’s chest bursts open with something that feels too big to carry.

When Xiao climbs off him, Venti doesn’t panic like he normally would, nor shrink beneath the exposure or awkwardness. He watches him go, entranced, as Xiao disappears down the hall—naked, nonplussed, beautiful. Venti is speechless, a little astonished, the wanton curling chasmic and clinched in his belly.

It cuffs him like a tsunami: this is truly happening. Xiao is his first kiss, and tonight… he’s going to be his first everything.

Xiao returns with a bottle in hand; impertinent, overt, and telling. The sight (the implication) alone has Venti’s ears flaring, heart sprinting to match his tempest. No one else could ever be his first, he thinks. He saved it all for this. For this man.

Without a word, Xiao settles beside him, fingers skimming Venti’s waistband. Their eyes meet—clammed up, zealous—and he doesn’t move until Venti consents, allowing him to.

He undresses Venti slowly… as if longingly, as if each inch of exposed skin is a story he wants to read by touch. And when Venti’s cock is freed, leaking at the tip, his breath catches in his throat. Embarrassment sparks, but Xiao’s gaze never wavers. There’s no goading, no arrogant quip—essentially balmy acceptance. Want, maybe, but stifled. Measured.

Xiao’s hand wraps around him with impossible gentleness, his fingers solidified but heedful, calloused from years of photographing, playing the guitar, drawing, building.

Venti exhales a broken sound, eyes fluttering shut. He can’t help it. Xiao touches like he’s sculpting something sacred. It’s almost too much.

He teeters when Xiao pauses, lips parted like he wants to say something. And then, softly:

“Will you be alright, Venti?”

The words sound nothing like the guy who once scolded him for burning rice, or the guy who rolled his eyes at every failed attempt at poetry. No—this is something else. There’s nervousness, there’s care. There’s love.

Venti meets his gaze, and he knows… right then, right there… that whatever happens after this moment, it’s not just lust. It’s not just a fling. Xiao would never be careless with him.

He breathes out, “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

Xiao slicks his fingers with lube, movements meticulous and unfussy. He doesn’t rush. One hand steadies Venti’s thigh while the other trails lower, circling the entrance with a touch so featherlight it makes Venti shiver.

The first press is tentative, circumspect, and Venti inhales sharply, fingers looping into the couch cushions. It’s strange, a little overwhelming, but Xiao is whispering something benign and soothing, and Venti finds himself easing into it, opening to him.

Their eyes never stop meeting. Xiao stays right there with him, guiding, adjusting, ensuring he’s okay at every step. He treats Venti like something precious. Not breakable, but treasured.

And Venti clings to that. To every kiss shared between breathless gasps, to every whispered reassurance Xiao gives him.

Soon, the room is filled with the squelching of the couch, their quiet panting, of two people discovering each other with soaring need. With desperation held at bay by devotion. Touches grow bolder, kisses ardent. Each sound is encased in short-winded intimacy, each minute molding into something impossible to name.

Venti feels disentangled in the best way, escorted by hands that know how to make him feel safe even while everything inside him kindles.

He’s never been touched like this before. Not just in body, but in soul.

And when Xiao finally draws him in completely, moving cautiously, Venti gasps out loud. In pleasure, in disbelief. Xiao kisses him through it, murmurs his name like a prayer, and all Venti can do is hold on.

This isn't just sex. This is an untwisting of years. Of longing. Of friendship turned something much more extreme.

Closing his eyes, arms wrapped around the only person he’s ever wanted, Venti thinks:

This is what it feels like to be loved back.

**

With his vision swimming, Venti blinks through his lashes, narrowly making out Xiao’s hands working the bottle open. Cool gel glistens in the moonlight before Xiao sets it down, fingers slicked and ready. The action makes Venti suck in a breath.

Then he feels it. The first tentative press of a finger breaching him. Brumal, labored, chary. Venti’s mouth parts with a puff, the intrusion bizarre but not unendurable. He breathes through it, eyes flapping shut as Xiao works him open.

The second finger follows, slipping in beside the first. Venti’s legs twitch, unbidden, a mellow whimper tumbling from his lips—but Xiao is there in an instant, lowering himself beside his ear. Warm, his words falling like balm over frayed nerves.

“You’re okay,” Xiao whispers, threading his fingers through Venti’s hair. “You’re doing so well, Venti… It’s just new, that’s all. You’ll adjust. I’ve got you.”

Gods. Even now, Xiao is like this—attentive and unshakably composed. And Venti, despite everything, can’t help but wonder, has Xiao ever done this to himself? Is that how he knows what to say? The thought makes Venti flush, a pang of hankering cutting deep.

He’s done it to himself before, too. Lonely nights, bottle by the bed, hands between his thighs, moaning Xiao’s name in the dark. It never came close to this.

Because this—this is real.

Xiao takes his time, stroking and stretching him with the kind of care that borders on veneration, until Venti’s thighs stop writhing, until his breath comes easier. Only then does he pull away to reach for the bottle again.

And when he slicks himself up—when Venti finally sees it—he can’t look away.

Xiao, crouched between his thighs, focused and flushed, coating himself in smooth strokes. The sight dries Venti’s mouth, sends his thoughts scattering. And then Xiao’s hands are on his hips, hefting, hooking his legs over strong shoulders and—

The moment he enters, Venti preens. Low and guttural. A raw sound, torn from somewhere cavernous in his chest. It’s so much. Too much. He’s full in a way he’s never been, walls squeezing around Xiao’s plodding thrust. It prickles, just a little, but he welcomes it, gasping for air when lips find his again, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

They move like that—tentative at first, all mouths and palpitating limbs, until Xiao rolls his hips again and Venti’s back arches into the leather couch.

Gods. This. This is what he’s imagined every time he touched himself and pretended it was Xiao. But now, it’s more—richer, bottomless, achingly real. Xiao is not some figment behind his eyelids, not a phantom he’ll wake up from. He’s here, inside him, kissing him like he wants to stay.

Each thrust grows more confident, a pattern building between them that has Venti melting under him, mewling every time Xiao hits just right. His breath is caught in their space, lips parted, fingers twisting in the fabric beneath. Xiao holds his wrists in one hand, pinning them over his head, the other trailing down to explore the curve of his waist, the quake of his hip.

“You feel incredible,” Xiao murmurs, voice gravelled from restraint. “You’re doing so good for me, Venti…”

Venti doesn’t trust himself to speak—only nods, cheeks damp, stunned by the sounds Xiao makes, by the way he looks above him, eyes molten with something that might just be exalt.

The slick gnash of the couch under them turns into a kind of music. Familiar. Intimate. It joins the whisper of skin against skin, the erratic hitch of breath, the soft slap of motion.

And then, Xiao leans down again, lips brushing Venti’s ear as he murmurs something only they will ever hear—and Venti chokes on a sob.

His stomach coils tight, heat searing through him, undoing him from the inside. He’s close. Too close. He tries to hold on, but Xiao doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Just keeps moving, fucking into him with the same steady devotion he’s always shown in every part of their friendship, but now laced with something exposed. Honest.

And when he finally tips over the edge, Venti breaks. Cries out, back bending as white-hot pleasure splinters through him. His release paints his chest, hot and wet, and it’s followed by Xiao’s groan—low, almost as if pained—as he spills into him, deep and full.

The world stills.

Only their ragged breaths remain, the whirring of the refrigerator in their kitchen, and the mumbling of the wind against the windowpane.

Venti doesn’t know how long they stay like that, tangled, but he knows this much: he never wants to move.

He lets his eyes close for a moment, heart pounding unwittingly. A breath later, Xiao transposes, pulling out with care, and Venti whines at the loss. He hardly registers Xiao leaving the room.

When he returns, Venti can only crack one eye open. Xiao is wiping him down with a lukewarm cloth, not a word spoken, just the soft swipes across his skin and the demure press of a blanket pulled over their bodies.

Then a kiss, romantic and sure, is dropped on his mouth. “Sleep,” Xiao whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Venti’s heart twists, clenching painfully at the quiet pledge in those words.

He breathes in their collective scent—sweat, lube, salt, home—and lets the evening lull him.

Before sleep claims him, he thinks, This is love, isn’t it?

If so, it doesn’t scare him.