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beskarhearts · 3 years

Note

soft javi idea!!! he confesses to you about his crush on you and how you make him not want to be an asshole anymore 🥺

Bad Coffee (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: over 2.8K

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex/brothels, drinking (nothing else I can think of but let me know!

Summary: Javier Peña wasn’t the type to ask people on dates or have feelings. At least that was what you thought.

Notes: UM I LOVE THIS AND I HOPE YOU DO TOO! I am an absolute sucker for soft Javi so this was soooooo fun to write and definitely helped. Pretty much I am ALWAYS willing to write Soft!Javi because it is the greatest. (also haven’t really proof read this yet so please excuse any mistakes!)

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Late nights at the office with Javier has become the usual for you two. You were both hell-bent on catching Escobar and if that meant spending every second at the office and getting maybe an hour or two of sleep each night, then that was what it meant. So even when everyone else left the office and Murphy retired for the night, you and Javier would be sitting at your respective desks and mull over paper work and evidence and information and anything you could get your hands on.

You didn't mind it though. Sure it was exhausting and your mind never seemed to stray away from work but you felt like you were doing something. You technically could go to your apartment all alone and get some sleep or maybe eat a proper meal but that felt ridiculous. Why bother with such menial things when you had much more important things at hand?

Also, it meant you weren't alone anymore. You had started spending nights at the office before Javier had and you can't remember when he joined in but you didn't mind. Javier and you had worked long enough that you had gotten used to his annoying, bothersome characteristics. He was hot-headed and flirtatious and sometimes incredibly hard to read but he was good at his job and he genuinely cared, which was more than you could say for a lot of other people working here. You two also worked well together. It was probably a natural result of working together for long enough, though you knew there were some people who had known Peña for longer than you had and could barely work with the guy.

Some people said you worked well together because you slept together and perhaps that was a natural assumption given Javier's reputation with women and the flirtatious quips he would send your way every once in a while. And while you had confirmed that wasn't the case, people liked to gossiped. But really you just worked well with the guys because you both had respect for each other and were what you would consider friends. You could share a drink with the guy and crack a joke at his expense. You could also mull over paperwork into the late hours of the night and go over countless theories and ideas with him, all of which he listened to and never tried to overshadow you.

"Drink this."

You looked up from your desk to see Javier holding a cup of coffee out, the brown liquid steaming and exuding a scent that alone seemed to wake you up. Your greedy fingers snatched the cup up, taking a big gulp of it before sending a small smile to the man who still stood in front of your desk. "Thanks, Peña."

You had come to greatly appreciate Peña's presence during nights like these. He would bring you coffee, let you rant and ramble, and if you drifted off the sleep at your desk, he would sometimes lay his jacket over you as a makeshift blanket. You didn't have a lot of people who looked after you, having left your family behind in the states for the job. So having Javier do even the smallest thing like bring you a cup of coffee was something you were grateful for.

"Did I make it right this time?" Peña asked slyly, giving you a small smirk that you reciprocated. You swore it was on purpose, but something was always just a little off with your coffee. You had told him how you liked him, given him the exact number of scoops of sugar and amount of creamer. Yet for some reason the coffee would always be a little too sweet or wouldn't have enough creamer. You drank it anyways, because you weren't picky and weren't one to say no to even the shittiest cup of coffee. But now it had become a small joke between you two.

"Not enough sugar." you playfully responded, giving him a small chuckle.

Javier looked down at you and shifted in the spot he stood in before responded. "A coffee place would probably make it better."

You snorted, placing your cup down and taking a glance at the watch on your wrist. "I don't think any coffee place is open at 2 am on a Tuesday."

"Well then maybe sometime when you aren't working." Javier countered and you raised a singular eyebrow, cocking your head. He was acting odd. A little too odd.

You shook it off and decided to make a small joke. "Oh, you mean when I'm dead?"

Javier sighed, brushing his hand through his hair before planting both of his hands onto your desk, leaning forward slightly. "I mean maybe sometime when you aren't working...and neither am I. Then I can buy you a coffee to make up for the shit stuff I make."

Your face dropped instantly as you looked up at Peña, seeing the way his eyes wouldn't make their ways to look into yours. You had known Peña long enough to know he wasn't a nervous man, especially not with you or women in general. In fact, sometimes he was too cocky for his own good. "Holy shit." you muttered.

Javier finally looked at you and raised an eyebrow at your shocked expression. "What?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" you dumbly said, not even trying to stop your mouth from saying the question in your mind.

Javier's tongue peeked out as he licked at his lips nervously, hands slipping away from your desk and landing on his hips as he straightened up. "Yeah. I am."

Holy shit. You were dumbfounded, shocked, absolutely 1000% floored. Peña was a flirt and had said his fair share of words to you but you assumed that was just who he was. You had seen him do the same to plenty of other women around the office alone. Not once in your head had the thought of Peña ever asking you on a date even crossed your mind. It seemed like a down right impossibility. He wasn't a 'go on a coffee date' type of guy. He was the 'stop at a brothel and have mindless sex with a woman whose name I barely know' type of guy. You couldn't even begin to imagine Peña on a date. The mere thought of him sitting with a woman at a coffee shop and making that small talk everybody had at a date and then driving them home made you nearly laugh in surprise. While you had come to appreciate the quirks of Peñas personality, he was an asshole normally and everything happening right now was so bizaree. His nervousness and the way his eyes were avoiding yours and asking you on a date?

"This is a joke, right?" you asked.

Javier let out a small chuckle, but not his usually one. This sounded uncomfortable and strangled. "Way to soften the blow, hermosa." he tried to respond as sarcastically as possible but you saw in between the cracks.

"You are serious?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Peña asked, a hint of annoyance peaking through as he examined your astonished figure.

You let out an odd laugh of your own, even snorting. You couldn't comprehend how he didn't understand how bizarre this was. Or maybe he did and just wanted to hear it from your mouth. "Peña, you just asked a woman on a date."

"And apparently did a shit job at it." Peña countered back, the wrinkles on his forehead more apparent as he scrunched his brows together.

"When was the last time you even asked a woman on a date?" you inquired.

"Why does this matter?" Peña asked, one hand being thrown up in confusion before landing back on his hip.

"Because never once in my days did I think I would see the day Javier Peña asked a woman on a date." You couldn't help the giggle that left your lips, partially because you were uncomfortable and didn't know what to do but also because this whole situation seemed like some kind of fever dream.

"Glad this is so funny to you." Peña scowled, turning back to his desk.

You bit your lip, trying to think of something to say. "You did a pretty good job actually. Good transition with the coffee and stuff." you offered, trying to lighten the mood and tension in the room.

"Then why didn't you say yes?" Javier asked, turning back to you as he sat on the edge of his desk.

You paused. You didn't say yes initially because you were too shocked to but there were probably a million reasons to not say yes.

You weren't dumb. Javier Peña was stupidly attractive. It was no wonder ever woman swooned over him. And the hair and slightly unbuttoned shirts certainly didn't help. And while many women would probably jump at the chance of a date with the infamous DEA agent just based off looks alone (and his 'sex god' reputation), you had come to admire the other things about him. His dedication and his how no matter how hard he tried to hide it, his compassion somehow always came through. There was plenty to admire about the man.

But there were also so many things that made a date with Javier Peña potentially a very bad idea. He was your co-worker first of all and while you weren't sure if it was necessarily forbidden, it wasn't something you should jump into. Being in this field was hard enough, you didn't need everybody thinking you had gotten where you were because you were jumping the bones of your co-workers. There was also the fact that Javier was the exact opposite of a relationship man. He was practically the epitome of a bachelor. His primary hobbies consisted of drinking and visiting brothels, blowing off steam with a woman withering under him. He was also so closed off sometimes. He kept everything so buried and so hidden and it was impossible to reach him.

"You do realize what a date is, right?" you asked gently.

Javier rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, but I am very aware."

"And that you are asking me on a date. A date where we would go get coffee in a public place and talk and the main goal shouldn't be to get me in bed afterwards."

"Jesus Christ! I'm not trying to sleep with you!" Peña cried out, throwing his hands up.

"Well, excuse me but you have quite the reputation for being a bit of a man-whore asshole!" you shouted back, feeling the emotion and tension bubble up in you.

Peña dropped his head, looking down at his feet and letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. "I have... feelings for you."

He seemed to say the words begrudgingly, like there was anything he would rather do than have to talk about his feelings after practically getting rejected by a woman who he asked on a date (which he hadn't done in years).

Your mouth kept opening and closing, trying to conjure something to say but finding yourself unable to. if you thought the idea of Javier asking someone on a date unfathomable, then you were just absolutely flabbergasted by the idea of Javier having a crush on someone. You finally closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. "I don't...understand."

"I thought it was pretty obvious." Peña responded, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he slowly looked up at you.

You stared back into his brown eyes and let out an exhausted snigger. "No, it wasn't. Hence my reaction."

Peña pushed himself off his desk, strolling towards your desk and looking down at where you still sat. His brown eyes looked softer than you had ever seen them and it made the breathe in your throat hitch. "Listen, I am an asshole-"

"You really know how to see yourself, Javier." You cursed yourself for your habit of making jokes when you were uncomfortable as Javier looked back at you plainly. "Sorry..."

"I don't want to be an asshole when I am around you. I want to be better... for you. You make me think maybe I could be an okay guy." Javier offered.

You tried to ignore the way your heart had begun racing and the way your skin seemed to heat up slightly. You placed both your hands on the arm of your chair, trying to keep them busy so you didn't nervously twiddle your thumbs. "Alright, well that was kind of sweet in a weird way..."

Javier finally let out a small chuckle and you smiled at the noise, glad to feel a bit of the tension dissipate. "I know I'm a piece of shit and not boyfriend material or anything like that but... just one date. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

You felt the corner of your lip quirk up into a small smile. "I'm not sleeping with you no matter how charming you are."

"We will save that for the third date then." Javier joked and you let out a small gasp.

"Bold of you to assume we will make it to a third date." You jested, giving him a teasing grin.

"It took me months to finally ask you out so this better work for me."

You leaned back. "Months?"

"Shut up." Javier huffed back as soon as he saw the smile on your face.

"Has the Javier Peña been pining for me for months?" You meant it as a joke but when his face softened and he looked back at you, you tried your best to wipe the smile off your face.

"It's... been awhile." Javier looked at the way you expectantly looked back at him and sighed. "Since the Christmas party."

Your jaw dropped. Steve had insisted on inviting you and Javier to what he described as a Christmas party Connie had set up but when you showed up, it was just the four of you. Murphy joked around, saying he didn't have many friends. But you didn't mind. It was one of the first times you had seen Peña out of the office and he seemed relatively relaxed for the first time you had seen him. You had both sat on the same couch together, across from the Murphys and every once in a while you two would whisper teasing jokes to each other about Steve. You thought back to the night and remembered how he had insisted on pouring your drinks for you and had probably been sat a little too close, his thigh nearly grazing yours. How his gaze had lingered on yours because it was the first time he had seen you wear something other than office clothes and shit, how did you somehow look even better? How he had insisted on driving you home once he realized you had walked there, saying it was because you shouldn't be walking around in the dark but also because he just wanted to spend more time with you, even if it was only a few more minutes.

"Javier, that was months ago."

Javier slowly nodded. "Yeah. I tried to at your birthday dinner."

That had been another thing that had been planned by Connie and Murphy had required you guys come to. You honestly didn't even know they knew when your birthday was, never once mentioning it because birthdays weren't your thing. But Murphy had somehow found out but you didn't mind. It was only a dinner with you four and some drinks, no big party and nobody made a big deal with it. The Murphy's had bought you a present despite you saying you hated receiving gifts.

Once again, Javier had insisted on driving you home and this time walked you to your door. You thought that would be it until he handed you a gift. Your watch had been broken and you needed a new one but had been too busy to get one so Javier had taken the liberty of doing so. You remember him insisting you open it when he was gone and not thank him for it. He had seemed a little off that day but you had thought it was just the drinks getting to him a little. He lingered and you both spoke about work until he eventually drifted away.

"Holy shit, Peña." you muttered, feeling the weight of the watch on your wrist even more.

"It doesn't matter." he huffed.

"It does to me." you softly said. Javier only sent a small glance your way and you gave him a smile before turning back down to your paperwork. "Pick me up on Friday."

You didn't look up to see the smile on Javier's face as he made his way back to his desk. "Yes ma'am."

#request #javier peña #narcos #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña imagine #pedro pascal #javier peña one shot #javier pena one shot #javier peña blurb #javier pena blurb #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena x f!reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #soft!javi

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iknewyoudunderstand · 3 years

Note

omg thanks for understanding! I feel bad because I want to support everyone’s work but sometimes I can’t read it :/ but if you’re taking requests, what about Hotch accidentally walking in on Spencer talking to Penelope about his crush on Hotch?

“I know something you don’t know!”

“Statistically unlikely,” Spencer says, his voice thick from the early morning and the copious sugar in his coffee. “But it’s possible.”

Penelope, a shock of pink on an overall beige day at work, bounces on her toes. Her chunky jewelry clinks and clatters as she jumps around. If his brain wasn’t still sleep-addled, it would be too much for him, but he’s been up all night and his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet and he wasn’t prepared for a conversation so early in the morning. Right now, his senses are coasting on him barely being able to process the stimuli. The sun is barely even up. He has to summon a lot of energy to even make his mouth move.

“What do you know?”

“It’s a secret!”

He sighs. “Garcia, it’s 7:30 and you’re going a million miles an hour. Can you just tell me?”

She stops bouncing, arms dropping to her sides. Something like a scowl, an over-exaggerated imitation of Hotch, settles on her face. “Reid, that’s no fun.”

“Why does it have to be fun?”

“Because I love fun! Everyone knows this—it’s one of my best and most obvious features. Now ask me!”

“Ask you what?”

Penelope lets out a loud, put-upon sigh. “You’re killin’ me, whizz kid.”

“You’re killing me!”

“I would never.”

“What’s the secret?!”

“It’s your secret.” Her eyes flash and her smile turns devilish. “I know who you have a crush on!”

Spencer stops cold. “Garcia, I’m twenty-four. I-I don’t have a crush. I don’t have crushes. I haven’t had crushes since I was thirteen. No adult has crushes—”

“You absolutely have a crush. You’re stuttering, you’re doing that hand thing—” Spencer stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself from wringing them. “Uh huh. I’m not a profiler, but I know the signs! You have a crush.”

“So?” His voice cracks so loud he winces. “Listen, it… most adults spend a minimum of 1,680 hours in the office per year.” Penelope scoffs. “Exactly. So there’s not really anyone else for us. It’s very normal to be attracted to people you spend so much of your time with! There was a study in 1968 where college students were shown photos of faces, and some photos were shown up to twenty-five times while others were only shown once or twice, and the most liked faces were those that had been seen more. Prolonged exposure leads to increased attraction, so it’s normal that someone like Hotch would be—”

“You have a crush on Hotch?!”

Spencer throws his arms up. He probably won’t need a second cup of coffee, because he could run a marathon—as long as he is running in the complete opposite direction of this conversation. “Everyone has a crush on Hotch! It’s simple psychology! People are attracted to authority; in evolutionary terms, a person in a position of power is seen as someone with resources and abilities that will create viable offspring—” Garcia’s eyes go wide and Spencer feels like he’s dying. His face is so hot, sweat is beading on his upper lip. “Not that—I’m not saying that, I’m saying that’s where it comes from. It’s an instinctual attraction.”

“Spencer—”

“Plus, plus, I mean, he’s also… I mean, as a person, he’s…” The words are stuck behind his teeth and under his tongue. This is the first time he’s ever said any of this out loud, and these feelings have been rattling around in his head for so long it’s strange to let them out. “There’s obviously more dimension to him than just as an authority figure. He’s intelligent, he’s compassionate, he’s passionate… the intensity created in a work situation can mirror the intensity we experience in sexual relationships, so… oh, God—”

“Reid!” Penelope hisses. She grabs his arm, her fingernails sharp like talons, and stops his train wreck of thought.

“Everyone has a crush on me?” Hotch asks, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. Briefcase in hand, obviously having just walked in, Spencer can’t tell if he’s horrified or amused or concerned or any combination of those because Spencer cannot look at him. Spencer is five seconds away from curling up on the floor and transforming into a pile of confetti, with “IDIOT” inscribed on every shred of paper. Penelope seems to be five seconds away from hyperventilating. “I think that’s a little generous.”

“Hotch, I am so sorry—”

He holds up a hand. Spencer nearly swallows his tongue. Penelope’s nails just might draw blood.

“I’m very flattered,” Hotch says softly. “In the future, there are more appropriate places to have conversations such as these—as I have already told you several times, Garcia.”

“Sorry,” she squeaks.

“In the meantime, everyone will be here shortly; we’re being called in to Oregon for a series of missing children cases.” They lock eyes. As always, it sucks the air right out of his lungs. “If you feel comfortable, Reid, we can discuss this more once we return home.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah.”

Hotch smiles. It’s small, but the hint of a dimple on his cheek and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes spell out genuine… something. Something genuine. Spencer refuses to let hope bubble up in his chest, just like he refuses every time they brush fingers or shoulders or Hotch looks at him for too long, or when he notices Hotch listening intently to his rambling or laughing at his obscure jokes. He squashes it down every time Hotch shows how much he cares—more than any boss would—and, yes, every time Hotch shows exactly how capable he is, in the field and at containing and responding to all Spencer’s chaos and fragility… that’s just who Hotch is. Everyone has a crush on Hotch because he does that for everyone. Spencer refuses to foster hope—but hope settles in him.

Hotch smiles at him, and then he walks away.

“What just happened?” Spencer asks.

“I think I just got you laid.”

#hotchreid #heid #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #cm fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #sorry this took so long i literally got home from work and took a four hour nap and then i needed my adderall to kick in dfjkhdskf #please send me more requests i want to write so bad #also ive never used more em dashes in my life

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elysianslove · 3 years

Note

hehe hello again !!! if you get to it, maybe 45 from hand holding + mattsun? m so in love with how you write him it seriously holds a special place in my heart, thank u loads loads in advance ! <33

hi hi hi!!! still not over what you wrote for me for samu it was so :(( i loved it so much so like thank you genuinely. much needed <3 and yes ofc i’d love to!! hope you like it mwah <3

more soft issei for the dash yay !

45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together with matsukawa issei <3

full prompt list!

the most defeated issei has ever felt is not with every loss he’s faced with his team, but neither was it a bad grade stamped on a paper, nor a bad day worsening with every hour. it’s the very moment he had sighed and painfully accepted the fact that he has a crush on you.

it’s infuriating, really, to put a label on it. at first he thought it was basic attraction— he liked your smile and he liked the way the school uniform hugged your figure and the way you twisted your hair between your fingers as your palm cupped your chin in class. it seemed to be just that, physical attraction, because he liked the feel of your body whenever you hugged him and he liked staring at the pictures you posted for a little too long. naturally, his body would react whenever you touched him, whenever you wore something a little special, whenever you made sure your lips were as red as cherries. he could live with that.

however, he could not live with the fact that he now craved to hear your laugh and that you were the one person he looked forward to seeing in the day. he could not live with knowing your smile was the last thing he thought of before bed and your notification was the first he searches for in the morning. his ears perk up at the mention of your name, his heart rate spikes at the sound of your voice. your touch alone is no longer the only thing that reddens his face and twists his tummy. it’s quite literally everything that you do, and it’s exasperating, genuinely.

he knows he’s in deep shit when someone points out a flaw that he could see as nothing else but a virtue of yours. how the hell could he see absolutely nothing wrong with you? nothing!

acceptance was delayed only because he knew there would be no turning back once he had admitted it to himself. it had been a long night of contemplation, of deciding whether he really liked you or he just found you attractive or he happened to enjoy your company or liked the attention you gave him— until he had asked himself a simple question.

would he want to kiss you?

and when he dreamt of your pretty lips on his, he woke up and buried his face in his pillow, screaming in frustration.

having a crush on you meant a lot of things, but most significantly, it meant not being able to sit by your side without feeling every inch of your presence by him. even if his eyes are on the textbook before him, he can still hear every noise you make, from the quietest sighs to the loudest groans of frustration. he can still make out every tiny movement you make, from the shake of your leg and the crack of your knuckles to the bite of your lip. he’s so hyperaware of you it drives him fucking insane.

tapping the pen against his book, he tries to focus on the questions before him, attempting to make proper use of the free period he had instead of leaving all his work to the last minute, as per usual. it’s unfortunate that it just so happened you share that same free period with him. or fortunate. he can’t decide.

“issei,” you gasp out lowly halfway through the class, and he struggles to not lose himself in the way his name sits so perfect on your tongue. instead, he hums, twisting his head to acknowledge you. once you have his attention, you continue and say, “your hands are so big.”

issei’s brows furrow, and he takes a moment to process (while trying not to think about the fact that you had been looking at his hands. why were you looking at his hands? were they not appealing? were they appealing?) before glancing down at his hand, and then at yours. “think yours are just small, doll,” he retorts, and you scoff.

“no, can’t be,” you disagree. the pen in your hand drops as you sigh, fidgeting in your seat till your body’s twisted to face him, one leg lifted and crossed on the chair. “look,” you add, and lift up your hand.

a question mark blooms in his brain. what did— you want him to do, exactly?

at the obvious confusion written across his features, you sigh, fixing him with a faux unimpressed stare, before reaching over to grab at his wrist. his skin burns where your hand touches him, and as you position his hand to lift it up straight, as if he were about to high five you, every single part of it goes numb. even as you let go, the feeling of you is imprinted and issei’s praying to anything holy that will listen that his face isn’t reddening as deep as he thinks it is.

after his hand is up the way you want it, your own reaches out again, and you press your palm against his. your hands are noticeably smaller, fingertips significantly lower than his, meeting just above where the lower lines locating the knuckles on his fingers were. your palm is also generally much smaller, and he thinks about how easily his hand could just make yours disappear so easy if he curled it into a fist.

so fucking cute, holy shit.

he’s going to die. this is how he goes. heart rate spiking to the point of death because his ridiculously cute crush thought comparing hand sizes would be a good idea.

“see?” you say, and issei’s blown away with how unaffected you seem to be. he really doesn’t think he can formulate a proper sentence at the moment. “your hands are big.”

“nah,” he finally manages, and does the unthinkable — before he can think it through properly, his fingers bend, curling in on the gaps between yours, before interlocking your hand with his. he was right: your hand is nearly swallowed by his. “yours are just tiny.”

he wants to say that you’re gawking, but you recover so quick he can barely believe it himself. “your hands are— warm, too,” you point out, fingers still locked with his as they lower and fall to between you. “are they always warm?”

his breathing is uneven as he attempts a nonchalant shrug, replying, “i’m not sure.”

you don’t speak anymore, neither do you look at him, eyes fixated below on where your hands are locked with his. with sudden movement, you twist on your chair, turning to face your book once more. it’s a little awkward, the position, and his wrist slightly aches, but he doesn’t want to be the first one to let go, not when you haven’t yet.

for a few moments, you stay like that, arm angled as weird as his, but eventually, inevitably, you unlink your fingers, shaking his grasp off. his heart sinks disappointingly for a second, until, without sparing him a glance, your hand reaches for his again, and you intertwine your hands once more, this time a lot more comfortably.

when his heart dances in his throat the way it always does around you, he accepts it with a lot more ease.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #mattsun x reader #mattsun fluff #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei fluff #sal’s fluff tag <3

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firebrands · 3 years

Text

the square root of infinity | stevetony

2.7k, established relationship, first fight angst | on ao3 | for @maguna-stxrk

***

Tony finds out with his hands deep in JARVIS’ code. Former-JARVIS, actual-JARVIS, he hasn’t really decided on what to refer to the mess of numbers of letters that formed his former AI, and now, well—Vision, too. It’s all a mess, really, and Tony wanted something simple to do with his hands, minimal focus, low-risk.

He should have known better, really. Nothing about him, his work, his life, has ever been low-risk.

It’s a command from Steve with a privacy protocol. Search, identify, and surveil Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier. Missing, found, and missing again as of six months ago. Tony frowns at the monitor. He knows he hasn’t read it wrong, but can’t believe it; he reads it again.

Somehow, in the span of time of Steve coming back from Washington, of them settling in together, he’d done this. He’d asked JARVIS to do this for him, and keep it from Tony.

Tony leans back against his chair. “FRI,” he says.

His new AI chirps to life. “Boss?”

“Gimme everything JARVIS found on this.”

“It’s on your phone now, boss.” In front of him, a hologram materializes as well, displaying hundreds of photos, grainy and filtered, and copies of reports on sightings. Tony stands up, takes a step back and frowns some more. He opens his mouth a few times, borne of his need to verbalize even without anyone listening; he’s angry. He’s more shocked than angry, but the anger is there, low and simmering.

Beneath it, though, is a grain of doubt: Why? Why did he keep it hidden? Especially now—after all the truth came spilling out of them, crystallizing into something Tony held dear. And after all Steve had said, about keeping secrets, about trust. He briefly considers asking FRIDAY to print it all out, just so he can throw the sheaf of paper in front of Steve and demand: what the fuck, but he’s better now, more mature. Or so he likes to tell himself.

So instead, he walks to the penthouse and finds Steve reading.

Tony clears his throat.

Steve looks up. “Hey,” he says, setting his book down. “You done working?”

Tony smiles, pained and tight. “So,” he says, sitting at the foot of the bed. “Bucky.”

Steve’s eyebrows meet, looking concerned. “What about him?”

Tony shuts his eyes and counts backward from five. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Steve inches closer to him and rests his hand on Tony’s knee. Tony doesn’t open his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Steve says very quietly.

Tony’s eyes fly open, the anger now boiling over. “Oh is that it?” He asks sarcastically. “So you decided to use JARVIS—without my permission, to look for him?”

Steve’s mouth works, and he looks genuinely shocked. “You said I could talk to JARVIS.”

“That’s not the point!” He pushes Steve’s hand off him and stands. “Why would you keep that a secret?”

“I—I didn’t,” Steve says haltingly. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to know if JARVIS could find him, but I knew it was almost impossible anyway, so there was no real point—”

“If there was no point,” Tony says, voice lowering, “then why’d you do it?”

“Tony,” Steve stands now, too, tries to reach out and touch Tony’s elbow, to disentangle Tony’s arms that have crossed over his chest on their own volition. “He’s my best friend. I’m worried about him. I just thought it was something I should do myself.”

Tony nods, not really listening. His head is swimming with what he thinks could be actual reasons why Steve had kept this from him. A tangled mess of fear and insecurity, then shock at his ability to be aware of it. Is this maturity? He doesn’t like it much. Better if it stayed Steve’s fault—and it is Steve’s fault, it is. But maybe Tony doesn’t need to work himself up like this. But then again, Tony’s already worked up. “Stop,” Tony grinds out.

So Steve stops, a foot away from Tony, looking more scared than Tony’s ever seen him.

“I’m going to go.”

“Don’t.”

Tony looks up at Steve. He hadn’t even realized he’d looked away. Steve takes a deep breath, closes the space between them, and takes Tony’s hands in his.

Tony sighs.

Steve threads their fingers together, squeezes Tony’s palms. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want to say more than one syllable, maybe?”

A joke? Now? Tony feels his frown deepen.

“No.”

“Is this a fight?”

Tony looks up at him. “A fight means you don’t think you should be sorry.”

“Now, hold on a second,” Steve says, a small frown beginning to form on his face. Barely perceptible, if you didn’t know the signs. “I already explained why—”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“Where is this coming from?” Steve asks, letting go of Tony’s hands, which means he’s mad too, which drives Tony insane.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“There’s no need to raise your tone—”

“Don’t fucking use your de-escalation tactics on me.” Tony hisses, turns on his heel, and walks out the door. He gives himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

***

The next few days are filled with small acts of penitence: a cup of coffee on the bedside table when Tony wakes, a sandwich in the workshop, a completed report for a day-old mishap. It’s on Thursday that Tony’s heart finally softens. Over nothing, really, just a small doodle on his desk. He realizes, in that moment, that of all his achievements, perhaps learning to understand Steve Rogers should rank highest. Right up there with being understood by him, too.

Tony’s lying in bed, reading a report on his tablet, when Steve peeks in.

“Hey.” He sounds tentative.

Tony sighs, sets his tablet aside, and takes off his glasses. “Well, come in.”

Steve’s barely able to hide his grin, and nearly bowls Tony over when he hugs him. “Hi,” Steve says, burying his nose against Tony’s neck.

“Hello to you too, you overgrown labrador,” Tony laughs, pushing Steve away a little lest he be crushed under all combined weight of supersoldier and three bowls of pasta that Clint prepared for dinner.

“I missed you,” Steve says, hugging Tony closer to him. He looks up at Tony, resting his chin right on Tony’s sternum. “Was that our first fight?”

Tony snorts. “Unlikely to be our last,” he says.

“Hey,” Steve chides, leaning up and brushing Tony’s nose with his. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Anyway,” Tony leans closer, brushes their lips together. “Make it up to me.”

Steve arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Tony warns.

Steve huffs out a laugh, tips them over until they’re lying down, and makes it up to him.

***

As a man of science, it behooves Tony to conduct experiments and to test hypotheses.

First, identify the problem.

Second, conduct research.

Third, develop a hypothesis: follow if / then structure.

Fourth, test through experiments: ensure factors are varied one at a time.

Fifth and final, draw a conclusion.

Tony’s tapping the tip of a screwdriver against his bottom lip as he thinks, and then two strong arms wrap around his waist and just like that, the problem has identified itself.

(One frustrating blind spot in Tony’s life: relationships. Which isn’t to say he hasn’t tried to make sense of them, sped read through self-help books and trawled through Reddit. Unlike everything else, research pales in comparison to experience, and there’s only so much he can do to make sure this one precious thing in his life is perfect.)

“Busy?” Steve presses a small kiss on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony can barely suppress a shiver.

He wants to say, I was, until you showed up. It doesn’t just apply to this moment. That fact shouldn’t hurt.

Instead, Tony says: “Yeah, kinda.”

“Okay,” Steve says easily, pulling away. He comes back to press a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek. “See you later?”

“Yup,” Tony says, and okay. Maybe he needs to spend a day or two really figuring out who the problem is, here. (It’s him. He knows this. He’s always the problem.)

Two days later, Tony settles on having to review related literature. In this case, this means sitting alone in the workshop as he relives every moment when Steve was distracted. Was that a sign? In a brief moment of clarity, Tony asks: “Fri, am I crazy?”

“Signs point to no, boss. But I can pull up recent results on the search engines?”

“I’d rather not hear what the general public thinks, thanks,” Tony says, sighing. He rests his face in his hands. It’s not like he meant to think of this—what is wrong with his brain, that the intrusive thoughts come in the form of the few moments he’d asked Steve what was on his mind, only to be brushed off?

What did that mean?

Did it matter?

Step three: if that was a sign, then there was a problem.

If that wasn’t a sign, then there wasn’t a problem.

If Tony didn’t figure this out, then there would definitely be a problem.

This isn’t how a hypothesis is meant to sound. Tony’s a terrible scientist.

“Fri, call Bruce.”

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice is rough. He sounds annoyed.

“Hey, seven PhDs, how do I form a proper hypothesis?”

“Fuck you, Stark.” The line clicks off.

Tony turns his wrist, checks his watch. Three AM? Figures.

He stretches out his back. “Friday,” he says, standing up. “The search functions for Barnes.”

“On it, boss.”

“Atta girl.”

***

Try as Tony might—and he’s trying, which in itself feels like a failure, because Tony stark does or does not and there is no need to attempt—he feels like something has shifted between them, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Maybe he’s just making it all up in his head. That’s the easy solution, isn’t it? And that’s usually the answer: start with the easiest answer and work your way up. He can already see Natasha rolling her eyes at him. Maybe the solution is to stop treating your relationship like it’s quantum theory.

Steve’s hand is on his lower back, steering him inside a restaurant. He thinks only of what Steve said, all those weeks ago: I had to do it myself.

Tony wants to argue, right this moment. But how can he? It’s awful that they can be so alike. The only reason he keeps his mouth shut is because he knows that Tony’s used that argument before. Maybe this is growth, to know when to back down from a fight. Or to avoid one totally.

Steve reaches over the table, brushes his fingers over Tony’s wrist. “You okay?”

There are a lot of answers to that. Tony settles on the truth. “Not really.”

Steve’s brow creases with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Again: an infinite multiverse of answers to answer a question that simple. With this, Tony does struggle for a moment, and the next words are much harder to say—they almost feel caught in his throat, like a lump of meat. “I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything, you know,” Steve says gently. So gentle, it almost breaks him; Tony doesn’t deserve this. Steve doesn’t deserve this.

“I know,” Tony says, and this is him lying through his teeth, and this is what he’s good at, and maybe this is why he’ll never know how relationships are. It’s a trust issue, probably. He doesn’t know if the issue is with Steve, or with himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tony tries harder, now: smiles more, eats with gusto. He knocks Steve’s thigh with his knee, looks up at him from under his lashes. This is what life is like for Tony Stark: it’s acting. He knows the approximations to get his point across. As their evening goes on, the small wrinkle on Steve’s forehead smooths out, and maybe Tony wishes he wasn’t so good at pretending.

Maybe he wishes that Steve read him better.

***

The moment of epiphany is often described as transcendental.

This one hits like a ton of bricks—literally, because Tony does know what that feels like, and the suit is shock proof, sure, but that shit still fucking hurts, and even in moments of epiphany, somehow he still manages to go off on a tangent. The point remains: Steve’s hand is on his hip, and they’re in bed, and epiphanies usually equate clarity, peace.

Tony freezes up.

“Tony?” Steve murmurs, sliding his hand up Tony’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, sitting up. “I know I’m being difficult.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Steve sits up beside him, rests his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and turns Tony to look at him. “Who said you were being difficult?”

“Me, I’m saying it,” Tony says. Panic is beginning to bubble in his belly, slowly rising up his throat. Typical of him to mistake a eureka moment with a panic attack. Par for the fucking course for Tony Stark. “I’m being difficult right now.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says, rubbing up and down his arms. “Tony. Look at me.”

Tony breathes out through his mouth, then in through his nose. Steve tips his chin up and meets his gaze.

“Here are the variables,” Tony breathes out, is afraid of what he’ll say next, his brain is fogged over and full of static. “I love you, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Steve takes a deep breath, takes Tony’s face in his hands. “Here’s a constant,” he whispers, breath warm on Tony’s cheek. “I love you. I love you. You, Tony Stark. I love you.” He kisses Tony, hard and close lipped, more aggressive reminder than affection.

“Okay,” Tony says, because there’s a wild part of him that still thinks—there was a problem, there was a problem and if this is love, then what comes next? If this is constant, then what variable will arrive to change all of that?

Steve kisses Tony again, almost desperate, this time. “Is this about Bucky?” Tony sucks in a breath at the question, horrified at being discovered. Steve hums, then he runs one hand down Tony’s back, up his arm, down his side. A reminder of his presence. Tony is suddenly grateful for it.

“And if it is?” he murmurs.

“Tony,” and somehow, Steve sounds fond, which throws a wrench in this whole debacle, and deep in the recesses of Tony’s brain, rationality begins to take root. “He’s my best friend. You’re the love of my life.”

Tony breathes.

“Did you hear me? You. You’re the love of my life. Please don’t make me compare,” Steve huffs out a small laugh, and it warms Tony all over, like sunshine peeking through the clouds after a strong rain. “And maybe you don’t believe me just yet,” Steve touches their foreheads together, then rubs his nose against Tony’s, the affection plain and chaste. It makes Tony feel more loved than he’s ever felt in his life—not that there were many moments to compare against, but still.

“I feel a little crazy,” Tony says, finding it in himself to smile up at Steve.

“A little crazy in love?” Steve asks, grinning.

“I can’t believe you just made a Beyonce reference. In the middle of my panic attack.”

Steve bites his bottom lip, a poor attempt at stopping himself from laughing. Tony flicks his forehead. “Say it again,” Tony says, and his smile still feels a little wobbly, but it’s a step.

“Crazy in Love?” Steve asks, pulling Tony close and wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist.

It’s an odd angle, and eventually Steve shifts to lift Tony up onto his lap. “Ass,” Tony says. “You know what I meant.”

Steve smiles again, right before pressing a kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “Step one,” he says. “The problem is you’re afraid I don’t love you. Step two: find out how to show you that I do.” He pauses, and Tony feels breathless as he presses another kiss to Tony’s bare skin. “Step three. Hypothesis? If I show Tony I love him all the time, then eventually he’ll believe me.”

“Sounds like a shaky hypothesis,” Tony says, but his voice quivers a little as he says it. He can’t explain how he feels, other than warm in Steve’s embrace.

Steve tuts. “Step four, experimentation. Small gestures, date nights.” Steve rubs Tony’s back as he speaks, and stops to tilt Tony’s head up to face him. “Am I getting this right?”

Tony smiles. “I don’t know, what’s the conclusion?”

Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s waist once more. “You’re here. I’m here. I love you.” He leans up, brushes their lips together. “Is that enough?”

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #(well hello) (sometimes you just want to write something warm and familiar. i thought i'd forgotten how.)#things i write

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yehet-me-up · 4 years

Text

Fractions of Tomorrow

Pairing: Zitao/Reader (female)

Word Count: 10,249

Rating/Warnings: PG13

Summary: They always say opposites attract but you and Tao are putting that theory to the test. He works nights at Flanagan’s, you work the crack of dawn shift at Starbucks. He wears leather jackets, sings in a rock band, and drives a motorcycle. You prefer Keds to Chucks, study poetry at UW, and ride a pastel purple bike across town. Luckily, he’s not someone who’s afraid of a challenge.

When Baekhyun dares you and Tao to test the idea that two people can fall in love in one night you don’t expect to care so much, so fast. And when the sun rises all you can hope is that he feels the same.

Part seven of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

February 28, 1997

His head aches, body still reeling from the alcohol he drank far too much of the night before. The line at Starbucks is endlessly long and he groans. If he was responsible he’d go to the grocery across the street and get a decent breakfast. But his brain needs a substitute for the gin he was coerced into last night by his friends and it will only accept caffeine as an offering.

A saccharine song pours in from the speakers and people around him clear their throats or rustle in their pockets and the sheer noise of the morning grates against him. He’s a creature of the night; he finds other humans far more tolerable without the sun beating down on him. Only desperation pulled him from his hangover to acquire the nectar of the gods. He taps his foot and shrugs his jacket further up his body, hoping the collar will keep the bright light pouring in from the tall windows from reaching him.

A sweet voice breaks through the din and he turns to watch you, drawn by the warmth of the sound. It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention. In the thriving ecosystem of the Exodus Mall everyone’s a friend of a friend of a cousin of someone and he distantly remembers you’re related to one of Baekhyun’s friends.

Maybe it’s the way early mornings after late nights distort the world, making everything feel hazy like a dream. Maybe it’s the fact that he went home alone last night, yet again. Maybe it’s the bright, energetic shine in your eyes, astounding for the pre-eight-am time. Or maybe it’s the dimple in your cheek when you smile at the customer, writing his name on the cup and passing it to your co-workers.

When the man moves aside and you turn your focus on Tao, for whatever reason, his intuition tells him to notice. Maybe it’s an illusion, but today feels different. You feel different.

‘Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?’

He opens his mouth, unsure what to say. For a long beat he simply observes you. The little hearts drawn around your name on your name tag. He rolls it around in his mind, matching your face with the word, almost saying it aloud. A dangerous proposition. A door he should leave shut.

Someone coughs behind him and he shakes his head, stepping forward. ‘Just a big Americano please. As big as possible.’ His voice is thick and his throat dry. One day he’ll remember to drink a glass of water before bed after getting drunk.

You nod, reaching to the stack of cups. ‘A grande?’

He swallows to wet his throat. ‘Sure.’

‘Name?’

With a deep inhale he smells last night’s cologne still clinging to his skin. God he needs to get his shit together, he thinks with a sigh. His general state of dishevelment is even more noticeable next to you. He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles.

‘Zitao,’ he says finally.

‘Cute.’ You say it under your breath but he still hears. His eyes go wide, his sluggish mind coming awake. After handing the cup to your co-worker you say the total. ‘That’ll be four oh two please.’

Automatically he reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out the five dollar bill. He knows he’s staring like an idiot but he can’t help it. You hand him his change and on reflex he drops it into the tip jar. Service industry solidarity, he thinks with a half-smile.

The smile on your face blossoms; tentative at first, it grows when his eyes meet yours again. ‘Thank you!’ You pull a small coffee can out from beside the register and hold it out to him. ‘Anyone who tips gets a poem.’

He stares at the can and the slips of paper neatly folded within. Amusement fills him and he reaches for one at random, his fingers brushing yours as he pulls back. The sensation makes him want to linger. How long has it been since he touched someone, in the daylight? Since he wanted to hold and be held? Tao tells himself it doesn’t matter. It can’t. He’s got plans to leave Seattle and he doesn’t need anything tethering him here.

Before he embarasses himself he slides the paper into his pocket with a nod and moves on down the line. As he waits for his drink he keeps his focus on you. The efficiency of your motions and the genuine happiness on your face as you take order after order on the busy Friday morning. People come and go around him but he leans against the wall, waiting, thinking.

Finally his drink is done and the cup spreads heat along his chilled palms. The world is too sharp and demanding and the thought of a day full of errands on too little sleep followed by a full shift at the bar drags at him. But the smell of coffee and your smile and the mystery poem in his pocket are life preservers thrown to him today. He clings to them with both hands to keep himself afloat.

On his way out he finally reads the poem you’ve gifted to him. The writing is done with small, neat lettering and he knows it’s yours.

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.

There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.

You feel it, don’t you?

- Rumi

With a groan he pushes out the door with his shoulder, blinking on the too-bright sidewalk. It’s too early to feel so raw and exposed, he decides.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday July 18, 1997

You trail into Flanagan’s Pub after Baekhyun and your sister, Hitchcock. It’s not her real name, but she’s had the nickname so long it might as well be. As always, they argue about movies. As always, you’re the third wheel. Not that they’re actually dating. But everyone agrees they should.

‘Come on, it was brilliant.’ Baekhyun waves his hands dramatically as you wind your way around the crowded bar after them.

‘I’m not saying it wasn’t,’ she responds. They slide into a booth opposite each other and you follow after your sister. ‘All I’m saying is it’s unrealistic, that’s all.’

Baekhyun scoffs, offended. ‘As if realism was the point here.’ You unfold the drink menu while he carries on, undeterred. ‘I know you’re not a hopeless romantic like myself, but are you honestly telling me that you don’t think it’s possible?’

Tonight’s Friday-movie-night tradition was your first viewing of The Fifth Element and Korben and Leeloo’s instant connection has revived their years-long argument about love at first sight. You roll your eyes when your sister shakes her head, leaning forward to tease him. She’s told you about her crush on Baekhyun, her best friend. For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature. Methinks the lady doth protest too much…

‘Look at Before Sunrise,’ Baekhyun says with a click of his tongue. ‘One night and they fell in love.’

She hums and scans the menu. ‘So what? It’s just one night. Show me what happens ten years later. After they see each other with messy morning hair and when he leaves dishes in the sink or, I don’t know, when she bites her nails.’ Baekhyun huffs and she smothers a laugh. ‘Let’s see how that instant love does after it’s put to the test. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, I’m just saying one night doesn’t mean it will stand the test of time, that’s all.’ She folds her menu and rests her elbows on the table, looking incredibly smug.

Baekhyun opens his mouth to argue but the server arrives and interrupts his tirade. ‘What can I get for you?’

The gravelly voice is familiar and your eyes widen in surprise when you see Tao towering over the table. Quickly you look away, back to the dark wood table.

You’ve noticed him before - at Starbucks, at parties at Baek’s from a distance, at Moe’s ages ago - but tonight he’s so cleaned up you hardly recognize him. Gone are the bags under his eyes and the nervous, jittery, curmudgeon energy that seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud. Tonight his eyes are alert and crinkle at the corner when he smiles broadly and you can’t help but notice. A very bad idea.

‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you.

‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh. ‘Are you coming to Chan and Soo’s party tomorrow night?’

‘You know it. I wouldn’t miss your big send off. My man here is taking off on a national tour on Sunday. Local boy making it big!’ Baekhyun gives Tao a friendly punch on the arm before drumming his fingers on the table and raising a brow. ‘Since you’re here, maybe you can settle an argument for us.’

Tao darts a look to you and clears his throat. ‘Sure thing. Lay it on me.’

‘Do you believe you can fall in love with someone in one night?’ Baekhyun waggles his brows at your sister and she groans. ‘Like, soulmates burning-down-the world you’re the person I’ve waited for always Blockbuster kind of love.’

He tilts his head to the side, considering. After a moment he shrugs. ‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you.

Baekhyun snorts and lounges back in the booth, resting his arm on the back of the seat. 'Good luck, buddy. You'd have better luck charming a brick wall. She only reads about love these days, Double Shot here is a bit gun-shy at putting it into practice again.’

You glare at Baekhyun, body going rigid at being called out. For as long as he's been your sister's best friend he's acted like a surrogate older brother to you. He vacillates between telling you it’s good you’re so focused on your studies and telling you that you're too serious, too focused on school and work. Since you got broken up with Baekhyun seems focused on the latter, always needling you to go out and have fun. But, as they say, once burned twice shy.

You focus intently on your hands resting on the table and absolutely avoid looking at Tao. From the first time you rang him up at Starbucks you knew his gaze would see more than you'd like. He's the type to see through every bullshit line you give about how you’re fine being alone, fine with how things ended, fine fine fine.

If life was kind the three of you would order and Tao would leave and that would be the end of it. You could safely stay in your cocoon and hide. But of course, life doesn't play fair.

Tao sticks the pen behind his ear and folds his arms. ‘Is that a bet?’

Your cheeks warm and your heart races. Finally, you look up to him fully. 'Excuse me?'

He shrugs and gives you a lopsided smile. 'If you're game, of course. What do you say, shall we put this to the test?'

'You want to see if we'd fall in love in a night?' You're certain you look like a terrified animal. In a vain attempt to fold yourself back into someone confident you lean against the booth, pressing your feet to the ground and making your spine tall and straight. 'What makes you think you're even my type?'

‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’

God knows he probably is. Tall, handsome bad boy who sings like an angel, drives a stupidly hot motorcycle, and looks like he knows the fastest way to make you come undone with just a look. But charming is only skin deep and in return you want to see if there’s anything underneath it that would keep your interest.

‘Fine, then.’ You hold out your hand. ‘I’ll take your bet.’ Stubborn, always so stubborn. Baekhyun giggles and claps excitedly as you grip Tao’s rough, much larger hand.

Your sister leans across you to stare Tao down. 'Hang on. I'm not about to let her go off with some random dude. How do we know you're trustworthy?' Hitchcock has turned her interrogation mode on. ‘I’ve seen you around, but I don’t know you from Bruce Willis.’

He must have other tables to attend to, other things to do, but he rests his palms on the table and leans down to meet her glare. 'I'm an open book. Ask me anything.' The move brings him inches from you. He smells like whisky, the kind that burns, and you swallow instinctively in response.

She narrows her eyes and hums. 'How old are you?'

'Twenty three.'

'Did you go to school?'

He chuckles. 'High school. No need for college.'

'Why not?' You speak up, preparing for an argument. He looks like he could actually keep up with you and a spark of excitement grows low in your body.

'Between singing and bartending I make plenty of money.’ He answers you, not your sister. ‘Don't get me wrong, I respect an education. But I get far more inspiration from living life than from just reading about it.'

You bristle. As a poetry major this feels like a personal attack. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never read anything that made you feel - I don’t know - inspired. Magical. Exposed?' You press your lips together, wishing you could gather the words back.

Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’

His dancing eyes dart down to your lips. But then he straightens, pulling the pen out and readying it on the pad. You grip the table to avoid swaying towards him and almost hate him for how much of a magnetic pull he seems to have over you. 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?'

Baekhyun orders a Smirnoff Ice, delight pouring off him. Your sister narrows her eyes at Tao for a moment. Finally, she relents and orders a sex on the beach. You stare at the red plaid shirt tied around Tao’s hips and order something. An Appletini maybe? Your mind seems to have abandoned you but thankfully Tao nods and winds his way back through the crowd to the bar. In his absence you can breathe fully and look up to see Baekhyun smirking.

‘What?’ you practically groan at him.

‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’

Hitchcock kicks him under the table and he winces, reaching for his shin. They resume their discussion, transitioning to talking about their opening shifts at the theater tomorrow and how much they can reasonably drink tonight and still be functional in the morning. You drum your nails on the lacquered wood table and wonder if your heart is racing from the heat of the packed bar or from the prospect of Tao holding you to your bargain.

The man himself comes back with drinks a moment later. When he slides the light green concoction across the table to you he tilts his head in question. ‘So, how about tonight?’

You choke on your sip and fight the burn in your throat. ‘Are you serious? So soon?’

He grins. ‘Why, did you want time to get ready? I think if we’re going to put it to the test it would have to be tonight. Also, I leave on Sunday morning, so the clock is ticking so to speak.��

‘But I work tomorrow at Starbucks. At the crack of dawn.’ You sputter, waving your hand in front of you. ‘I didn’t think you-’

‘Guess we should get started soon, then.' He winks again and you're tempted to throw your drink at him, just to get the upper hand. ‘I get off at nine.’ Without another word he puts the serving tray under his arm and leaves.

Your sister rolls her eyes. ‘You’re such a bad influence, Baek.’

He throws his arms out wide. ‘I can’t help it baby, I’m a lover. What can I say?’

She snorts and pats you on the back sympathetically. You down your drink in two swallows and absolutely refuse to look at Tao, Baekhyun, or your sister. Instead you pull some bills from your purse and push your way out of the bar before anyone can suggest anything else insane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes you several tries to find a presentable outfit. It's been more than six months since that last fateful date and in the time between you’ve built a literal barrier around yourself, bundling up in sweaters and blankets at home, only emerging for work and class and Friday movie nights.

Baekhyun's words come back to you as you frown and throw yet another outfit on the bed. Are you really a brick wall, impenetrable and cold? You weren't always, surely. Byron's 'and thus, the heart will break, yet brokenly live on' swims in your mind, still fresh from the finals you took just a few weeks ago.

You don't feel broken, just stuck. Numb. Waiting. You hold a dress up to your body and wonder if your ex feels the same or if he, as the one who did the dumping, moved on instantly, and it's just the broken-up-with half that flails around trying to find new footing.

With an defiant press of your lips you sigh and settle on your favorite black and white checkered dress and white Keds. It’s a declaration of intent in a peter pan collar. Your ex always hated your clothes, what you chose to study, your music; everything about you screamed soft and he tried so hard to bend and form you into someone he wanted.

But you are as you are - romantic and idealistic and sweet. You roll your eyes. It’s the truth, and you remind yourself that just because you didn’t match him doesn’t mean you have to change just to make someone else happy. The outfit screams innocence it dares Tao to judge you tonight. As if you care what he thinks. Which you definitely do not.

You barely make it back in time to Flanagan’s. When you rush up Tao is pushing out of the bar onto the street. A thrill runs down your spine at his smile when he sees you. Your ex doesn't control you anymore, you remind yourself. You get to decide when you move on; when you stop mourning something that's dead and over and find something new. Even if it's not with Tao, tonight is an experiment. To see if you can handle a fresh start.

‘Hi,’ you start, breathless from your hurrying.

'Hi yourself. You still game?' he asks, mischief in his eyes and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 'If you want an out I won't hold it against you.' He looks you up and down and smirks, but doesn’t comment on your appearance.

In return you scan him as well. His hair is mussed just-so and his earrings match too well to be an accident. He’s trying too, even if his devil-may-care attitude would make others think he’s not. Everyone has an image they present to the world, tonight you’ll find if there’s substance behind Tao’s.

You press your tongue between your teeth and tilt your head at him. 'I'm ready to be surprised.'

He barks out a laugh. ‘Fair enough. I’ll see what I can do’

Tao starts to move towards you across the sidewalk, but you hold out a hand at the level of his chest, stopping his movement. 'So, love, huh? There's not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?'

‘I belong only to myself. For now, at least.' He smiles and holds his arms out wide. His brows tug together suddenly. For a moment he looks unsure. Vulnerable. But the look is gone so fast you wonder if you imagined it. ‘What about you?’

You want to fold in on yourself and turn away, hiding. As if the stain of failure is written across your face. The words that were thrown your way like scarlet letters on your skin for him to see. Prude. Uptight. Tease. Your stomach churns and you’re glad you only had the one drink tonight.

‘Single.’ You suck in a breath after you get the word out, like it stole all the air from your lungs in speaking it.

He nods, holding your gaze for a moment. Those eyes of his drink you in and you’re sure he can see it - the hesitation and the fear. But once more he simply stands tall and gives you space to think. ‘Shall we head towards the waterfront?’

A public place, lively and full of people on a Friday night. Safe, reassuring. He didn’t suggest a club or somewhere heavy with expectation and you like him better for it. Tao waves an arm out in front of you, inviting you to go first and you start walking, clutching your purse under your arm.

He falls into step beside you. 'So I guess if we're going big or going home, shall we start with our dating history?'

You should have expected this level of inquisition, especially from someone who is friends with Baekhyun. ‘Jesus, you don’t pull any punches.’ But against your will you let out a laugh.

There’s something refreshing about someone who seems like, for all his mystery, he doesn’t hold any secrets. Everything out in the cool night air and you wonder if it would be freeing, to let it all go. To not question the words you say. To trust that the person you’re speaking them to will hold them without judgement.

‘Never have, never will,’ he reassures you. The cat-like grin on his lips is teasing. ‘That I can guarantee you. I’m happy to go first, if you’d like?’

You nod, and he sighs, looking through the clouds to the moon that peeks through. The streets are dry for once, a brief respite after the wet Seattle spring. Everyone around you takes in the night with gleeful laughter, on the search for music and connection and entertainment. But even with the full sidewalks around you all you feel compelled to do, inexplicably, is lean in closer to hear Tao.

A group of women brush by you, giggling, forcing you into Tao to avoid them. On instinct he reaches out an arm to keep you both from being overrun. You turn into him and end up meeting his eyes. In the night they’re so dark they look almost black, with flashes of light from passing cars.

The moment stretches around you and irrationally you want to stop him before he says anything else. No stories of the people he’s been with or kissed or loved or wrote songs about. Maybe that’s the appeal of one night love stories, you think. The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm.

The women pass and Tao respectfully brings his hand back to his pocket and time carries on. But the look on his face remains as you both start walking towards the Market again.

‘I should say up front, I uhh - I guess that I’ve never been in a relationship. Actually.’ He runs a hand through his hair and winces like he’s ashamed of it. ‘I came close a few times. But it’s just never worked out.’

You open your mouth but aren’t sure what to say. Do you make fun of him for clearly being a playboy, not wanting to be tied down, fitting the stereotype of the rockstar he’s on a path to becoming? Do you play coy, asking him if you might fit the bill? Or do you reassure him?

The latter feels the most natural. ‘You’re young. It’s the nineties. I don’t think it’s unusual to be playing the field right now.’ You lift a shoulder and shrug, the edge of your black denim jacket slipping down your back a bit with the motion. It exposes the skin of your collarbone above the strap of your dress, where your neck meets your chest.

Tao licks his lips and drags his eyes away from your shoulder to meet yours with a nod. ‘That’s true. I guess most of my friends are single. Sehun is. Jongin is. Baekhyun is, for sure. Even if he is in love with your sister.’ Your jaw drops and Tao bites his lip. ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t tell her I -’

He looks genuinely panicked and you laugh, waving a hand. ‘Trust me, she’s in love with him too. They’re both too stubborn to admit it though. So your secret is safe with me.’

Tao sighs, relaxing, and gives you a half smile. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’ The neon lights from the bars and clubs along Pike street pass over his face, painting him dozens of bright colors. ‘So, that’s my story. Too busy working and writing lyrics and singing to be tied down. What’s yours?’

‘That’s hardly a story,’ you challenge, raising a brow. ‘More like the cover of a book.’

‘It’s plenty!’ he laughs. ‘I’ve exposed myself as a perpetually single man. I think that tells you tons about me.’ At your pursed lips he continues. ‘Fine. I’ve been chasing music for so long that I have avoided getting serious with anyone, lest it keep me from my dreams of stardom. I crave that intensity between me and an audience when I sing, but I’m afraid to let myself have something real. Something intimate, that expects more of me past one performance. I’m afraid that off-stage I’m more disappointing than on et cetera et cetera.’

He cuts off his rambling monologue, his eyes widening as he stops in his tracks for a moment, like he can’t believe he just said so much. But you stand next to him without judgement. Something about his disarming honesty and expressiveness makes you want to tell him the truth, ugly that it might be.

While you stand on the corner and wait for the light to change you look at the zipper of his leather jacket to avoid his eyes and spit it out. ‘I got dumped six months ago.’ You lift your hands and drop them uselessly to your side.

He tilts his head back in appraisal. Blessedly the teasing is gone from his face. He doesn’t offer sympathy, cloying and patronizing words about how you’ll find someone else. He doesn’t flirt with you, even though that seems to be his nature.

‘I don’t know the circumstances, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but all I can say is - it’s his loss.’ He gives you a slight smile, not moving even when the light changes, and you can’t help but return it.

It’s strange that it could be so simple. Perhaps if you do carry on something with Tao you’ll tell him more. But for tonight it can be that easy. The pain and doubt and shame can fade into a pinprick of light heading off into the distance and get swallowed up by the night. Like you can just wipe the slate clean and start over. You inhale a deep breath of cool, salty air and look up at Tao, your smile growing, becoming more genuine and whole.

A lightness fills you and you wind your arm through his, pulling him into the crosswalk just as the last few seconds show on the countdown. He lets you guide him easily and you come to rest on the concrete looking down at the Pike Place Market. The bright neon red sign reflects against the dark night and the inky blue waters of the Bay beyond it. In the twilight ships move back and forth through the port, full of tiny lights of their own.

He drops his hand a little, running over the clothed skin of your arm until he reaches your palm. The contact of his hand on yours makes you jolt. ‘Is this okay?’

Without thinking you nod, twining your fingers with his, savoring the heat as he presses against you. Your ex hated holding hands in public, hated any kind of PDA, calling it childish. But Tao stands by your side, hand in hand, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

People mill about you, heading to the endless restaurants and food stands that line the Market. In summer it’s in full bloom, crowded every night, and after a long winter and spring holed up in your apartment it’s disorienting to be out in the world again.

You start walking together, without a plan. It’s far more comfortable than you’d expected, the companionable silence with him. Everyone in your life talks a mile a minute - Baekhyun and your sister, your co-workers at the busy coffee shop, your classmates, hungry for discussion - but Tao seems content to just hold your hand and admire the rows of vendors you pass. The lack of pressure from him eases something that had drawn tight and anxious in your chest over the last few months.

Before you is a maze of stalls. Tables full of tulips in bright yellows and pinks, bouquets wrapped in brown paper, that you stop to smell. Screen printed tee shirts with the Sonics logo or photos of the Space Needle or trendy political puns that Tao points out with a laugh. People sell everything from watercolor paintings to homemade honey to snow globes. As a recent college grad, you’re saving all your money, but everything is still fascinating to look at.

The two of you settle on a kebab place for dinner after a long debate about the merits of the taco cart and the hole-in-the-wall seafood stop. The steam brings the rich smell of meat and vegetables to you. Against your protests to split the bill, Tao insists on buying dinner.

‘If this is an official date I have to follow the guidelines,’ he winks.

You roll your eyes and defiantly go to the next stall to order two Jones sodas from the seller. When you hold them up he laughs and inclines his head. ‘Alright, that’s fair.’

When you’re settled on the narrow rock wall beyond the far edge of the market, balancing Jones sodas on the uneven stones with a warm kebab resting on your knees, he carries on.

'So, poetry. What made you choose that?' He asks around a bite.

After a sip of soda you tilt your head at him. ‘You can't laugh, okay?'

'Why would I laugh?’ His brows furrow like it’s the furthest thing from his mind. ‘I'm a singer, sweetheart. I don't take the arts lightly and anyone who does is an asshole.' He narrows his eyes at you in mock seriousness but the way his mouth fights a smile is endearing.

You snort, liking him yet again without planning on it. ‘I don’t know. I’ve always loved it and sometimes I try to write it. I’ve had some job or another since high school, so I’m confident I can always get a job if I need it but - there’s something so - so delicious about poetry.’ You swallow another drink of your soda and Tao’s eyes flick to the motion of your throat. ‘If I was going to go to college, and our parents kind of insisted on it, I wanted to study something I loved.’

Tao lifts his own soda and clinks it to yours in solidarity. ‘I can respect that. What’s your favorite poem?’

Suddenly shy you turn to set your soda down on the stone beside you, letting your hair fall over your face while you think. It’s not that you don’t know, but that it feels too close, too personal to tell him just yet. ‘That’s very private.’

When you look back to him he holds your gaze for a moment. ‘Hmm. Okay I can respect that. Favorite songs are pretty personal too so I’ll let you hold onto it, for now.’ With a movement as casual as breathing he tucks your hair behind your ear, as though he does it twenty times day, and resumes his eating.

Poems run through your head as you chew, heart racing. You’d thought this was an experiment that would quickly go south. A quick walk to prove that you’re not compatible. A smug ‘I told you so’ to Baekhyun. And then a return to the comfort of your bed to read for the night. You didn’t expect to want him. Words, endless remembered words filter across your consciousness, ones of love and lust and death and the exhilaration of life.

Normally your own creative voice is quiet, too afraid to give permanence to the ideas, the words, that live inside you. But as you watch the gentle night breeze ruffle his dark hair you think you could write some tonight, if you had pen and paper. Instead you shove an enormous bite in your mouth and chew, afraid of the attraction you have to him.

When you’re both done eating he holds his hand out for your trash and you wad up the wrapper and hand it to him along with the empty bottle. He walks over to the trash and dutifully puts the bottles in the recycle, like any good Seattle boy. Dusting off his hands he turns back towards you, approaching slowly and holding out his hands.

After a moment’s hesitation you reach for him, allowing him to help you stand. Continuing the night’s adventure. When you’re on your feet he releases one of your hands, keeping the other one tucked in his as the two of you wind your way back through the crowds. Both of you stop to pat the bronze pig at the crux of the Market for good luck.

He leads the way down the narrow stairs to Post Alley and the line outside the comedy club at its base winds around in a long chain. It’s funny, normally you’d want to know The Plan. Baekhyun calls you anal retentive, but you just consider yourself organized. You like knowing what’s coming. But tonight you consent to following him without knowing the destination. You bite back a smile - it’s exciting and terrifying all at once.

A group of people tries to come up the stairs as you’re going down and you are pressed against the rail, trying not to slip. It definitely isn’t meant to be wide enough for both directions of people at the same time. As if sensing your predicament Tao presses his broad back into the rowdy man behind you, ignoring his grumbles of annoyance, making space so you can descend the last few steps onto the courtyard.

Out front of the Market Theater you thank him and wonder what exactly his plan is. Is he taking you to an improv show? A concert? Drinks? With your hand still in his he gently moves to the left, under the archway and in front of the long gum wall. You raise a brow at him but he merely smiles and shrugs.

‘I didn’t peg you for someone who likes tourist attractions.’

His eyes dance with amusement. ‘Oh yeah? What kind of person did you imagine me to be?’

You purse your lips and try to figure out how to answer him. ‘I’m not sure, actually. Normally I can read people pretty easily, but I can’t pin you down.’

‘Me?’ He presses his hand that holds yours to his chest. ‘Baby, I’m an open book.’

The gum wall around you smells sickly sweet and you can almost taste it on your tongue. Everyone around you is taking polaroids in front of the wall or chewing their own gum in preparation to add to it.

You wonder what the two of you look like from an outsider’s perspective. Tao, tall and imposing with his thick motorcycle boots. You with your white Keds and sweet, checkered dress and headband. It might seem like you’re an odd couple, but the heartbeat in his chest against your hand is strong and underneath it all perhaps you’re not so different.

With a breathy laugh and a roll of your eyes you grip his hand and pull him further along the alley beside the gum walls, towards the water. Nearby one of the many buskers permitted to perform along Pike Place starts signing a loud and heartfelt, if slightly off-key, rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline,’ drawing the cheers of the onlookers.

Away from the crowd in Post Alley you emerge onto a side street a block or so from the water. Tilting your head back you watch as everyone sings along. Tao’s free arm suddenly comes around your waist and dramatically he starts swaying you back and forth, crooning along to the Neil Diamond song far better than the busker. A few other people on the street around you smile or laugh, making their way to the pier up ahead.

Instead of asking him what on earth he’s doing or feeling embarrassed about dancing in the middle of the sidewalk you just cling to him and try to keep up. His voice is rich and soothing, his hand holding you against him is sturdy and comforting. You can’t help but giggle and roll with it, holding onto his jacket and watching his jaw move as he sings.

All too soon the performance back at the Market behind you ends and the last lyrics are drowned out by applause. Tao takes a step back and the night is cold without his warm embrace. You long to step forward and close the distance once more. Instead you brush your hair back and compose yourself.

‘What kind of music do you like to sing?’ you ask as the two of you resume your progress towards the pier.

‘All kinds.’ He shrugs. ‘But mostly love songs.’

‘Really?’ The light before you changes and ahead the aquarium looms in the night. To your left is the Kingdome waits, past the long stretch of the boardwalk. Without waiting for Tao you head that direction, the briny ocean air filling your lungs.

He easily comes to your side. ‘Of course. Everything’s about love I think, when you get down to it.’

‘You weren’t singing love songs when I saw you perform.’

You answer without thinking, remembering the concert a few months ago that you and your sister went to. Baekhyun had invited you both to see Chanyeol’s band - Yeol and the Salty Wolves - and Tao was performing with the opening group.

‘You’ve seen me on stage?’ His proud grin is teasing and playful and damned if you don’t want to kiss him.

‘Yeah. It - my sister dragged me out of the house. She thought getting outside would do me some good.’ You focus on picking off a section of your pink nail polish that’s started to chip. ‘You guys were great. But you were definitely yelling about anarchy, not love.’

The imagine of him in his tank top, wide slits cut under the arms revealing a broad swath of his tanned skin, singing passionately, makes you suddenly very aware of him. Tonight he’s composed, a rebel in street clothes. But that night his face was slicked with sweat from his intensity, red in the cheeks and headbanging along with the crowd and the rest of the band. Even that night, so close after your recent break up, you wanted him. It was a dangerous idea then and it’s a dangerous idea now.

He hums and veers to the right, heading down one of the longer piers. ‘I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it, to go to war for what you care about.’

To that you don’t argue. ‘That’s true. I guess anything could be love when you get down to it. There’s so many poems about sadness - missing love or rejected love. Anger. Bitterness.’

The wooden boards of the pier below you give a gentle thunk with each heavy step of Tao’s huge boots. Below you the water sloshes against the planks. Now at the end you lean forward, resting your elbows on the railing, before turning back to Tao.

‘I guess this is a day to be debating love,’ you smirk, thinking back to the conversation that got you into this. In the wind off the Bay you shiver.

Like a reflex Tao shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out to you. But you lean over and wave your hand at him. ‘No it’s okay, I’m fine. Please, you don’t have to -’

But he drops it over you anyways, the warm weight of his jacket settling on your shoulders and insulating you from the wind. In his black, long-sleeve shirt he doesn’t even seem cold. With a sigh you pull it more fully onto you and bend upright again, inches from him.

‘Debating love indeed. See I think love and intimacy is made far too complex by a lot of people.’ He slowly rubs his hands together, forearms resting on the railing as he leans over, looking at the waves. ‘I think it comes from knowing someone. Really knowing them. Hopes and fears and memories and all of that. and choosing to be with them. Simple and complicated as that.’

‘Simple as that?’ you gape at him, holding your wind-tousled hair out of the way with one hand so you can look at him. ‘There's no way to truly know someone in one night, though. There's too much nuance for love in such a short time.’ The beating of your heart in your palms when you look at him would argue otherwise and you inhale deeply, trying to keep your center.

‘Hence why I also said complicated. But now we’re debating what love itself means.’ His gaze darts down to your lips before he meets your eyes. ‘I know plenty about you.’

You open your mouth to argue but he carries on. ‘I know you’re stubborn, given the soda earlier and the coat just now. I know you’re practical and competent - I’ve seen you at your job. I know you’re a romantic at heart, you have to be to study poetry, and even if some asshole temporarily doused that fire you look for evidence that love is real everywhere.’

Feeling raw and exposed you try to find anything to say to brush off the way his statements cut to the heart of you. ‘That doesn’t mean you - uhm - that you know me.’

The word you almost said in your haste was love and the thought makes your palms sweat. Irrational. Impossible. Everyone always says your emotions are easy to read, that they’re written all over your face, and you wonder what he sees as he watches you. The moment you said it you could see the slow smile start on his lips. At the very least he knows you’re not arguing with him as much as arguing with yourself, against what you feel.

He leans in closer so that his forehead touches yours, low voice almost a murmur. ‘But I want to know you more. I want to do a lot of things. Does that count?’

‘Count?’ If you wanted to you could press up on your toes and kiss him. The thought is intoxicating and you close your eyes, heaving a breath into your lungs.

After a long moment of thinking and waiting and wondering you finally open them again. Tao looks just as conflicted as you are - his brows tug together and the casual flirtation is gone. He holds himself still before you and something far more serious crosses his face. Though he doesn’t answer with words the look in his eyes telegraphs his feelings for you.

With a sigh he pulls back, reaching to the railing with both hands to steady himself, and you sway in his absence. He looks up at the night sky, at the moon through the clouds, and smiles. The stars peek through here and there. It’s not a cold night, just a breeze across the water to relieve the heat from the long summer day. Distantly a line of poetry comes to you, about being thirsty, parched almost, and wanting to drink him in to quench it.

Rather than indulge the dangerous impulse to touch him again you take off back down the boardwalk. Back to the city and the lights and far away from the closeness of being with him in the dark. The pressure of his thick jacket will have to be enough, for now.

‘So, where do you want to go next?’ You’re impressed you manage to sound steady.

He sticks his hands in his pockets once more and ambles after you, a small smile gracing his lips. ‘I know a place.’

As you make your way along the waterfront he turns the conversation to safer territory. You fill each other in on your jobs - how they started and what you like and don’t like. Co-workers who are dating, friends you have in common at the mall. Notorious customers. Tao has dozens of stories and his laugh is easy, his eyes bright with flirtation now that you’re both on safer ground.

Through the night you meander around the city in a vague Northward direction. Past the Science Center, it’s great white sculptures lit up. Around the Space Needle and the fountain. Another city and the streets would be deserted this late. But here there’s groups of people, laughing and splashing each other at the base of the enormous bowl that forms the center of it. You pass the occasional jogger or couple holding hands, walking home.

The two of you stop to use the restroom and get a drink of water at a 24 hour grocery store. Tao also insists on buying some snacks, chocolate and a bag of chips that you keep in the large pockets of his jacket as you progress to the edges of Lake Union.

It’s easy, being with him. His energy is calm, reassuring. He’s got a wicked and witty sense of humor you wouldn’t have expected and you easily spend half an hour looking out at the boats, making up other, naughtier names for them.

It turns out he likes X-Files just as much as you and your sister do. As you stroll along the Fremont bridge you end up taking his hand once more. The snacks are gone and you can’t resist touching him again. It must be well after midnight, but he doesn’t mention going home. Strangely, you don’t want to either. For someone who’s life has become so habitual you’re surprized you’ve not even spared a thought for your nightly routine of reading in bed with a glass of wine and a candle burning on the windowsill.

There will be other nights for that, but for tonight you let the momentum of the evening carry you along with him. You both decide to skip a visit to the Troll, not wanting to tempt any disasters. The Keds on your feet hold up well and you give a thanks to your past self for not wearing heels or sandals.

Eventually his destination becomes clear. The gates to the park are closed for the night. ‘Gas Works? This is your plan - breaking and entering?’

He nods, biting his lip. ‘Yep. I know a way in. The nighttime view is unbeatable.’

You hold out your hands, gesturing to the enormous PARK HOURS: DAWN TIL DUSK sign.

‘Afraid of being caught?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Yes, actually. I don’t think getting arrested for trespassing would be a great thing for my resume.’

Tao considers before backing towards the edge of the fence with a smirk. ‘Come on. How about a little mischief here ‘upon the honey’d middle of the night’?’

‘You know Keats?’ It leaves you breathless, rooted to the ground. It’s not from your favorite poem, but he is your favorite poet. A good guess or has he been doing his research?

‘Of course. Don’t you?’ Tao teases, folding back a corner of the fence and easing himself through.

You scoff and charge after him. The smug bastard can’t just quote Keats and then run away from you. Once again you want to kiss the proud look off his face, to rattle him the way he seems so capable of rattling you, getting underneath your surface. With a last thought to your reputation you step through after him and a thrill runs down your spine.

The rusted red containers and machines that form the center of the park are tall ghosts in the night, rising from the grass and casting long shadows around you in the distant light from the city. He holds out his hand and you easily catch it, both of you winding your way carefully around the gentle hills to make your way to the view.

You find a suitable spot and sit down on the grass. ‘You’re right,’ you tell him reluctantly.

‘About what?’ Tao sits beside you, linking his hands over his knees. He sits near enough you can feel his thigh pressing against yours. Close, always so close, but not as close as you want him.

‘About this.’ You gesture to the Seattle skyline in front of you.

Sure you’ve been in the daytime, watching the boats sail on Lake Union and the groups of yoga practitioners and families with young kids fill the grassy slopes down to the water. But by night the lights of the city look like a painting. Skyscrapers touching the clouds as the first hints of sun are lightening the horizon.

‘I thought you’d enjoy it.’ He nudges you with his shoulder and smiles at you.

The gentle sounds of the water below is relaxing. Even as you lift your hand to cover a yawn you don’t truly feel tired, like the night and closeness to him could keep you awake forever, if you let them. But even so, dawn is coming and you think back to the reason that you’re both here.

‘So. About that bet?’ Your words are a sigh and somewhere between the late hours and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles you don’t second guess the question.

He side eyes you and can’t smother the grin on his face. ‘You mean the one about if we can fall in love in one night?’

‘Yes, that.’ It must be the lack of sleep causing the giddiness you feel, you tell yourself, as you lean back against the grass and cover your face with your hands.

His own hands find yours and you turn to see him on his side next to you. Gently he pulls them down, holding them to his chest, so he can look you in the eyes. ‘Hmm, I don’t know about love, but I feel a whole hell of a lot right now. We never came up with an objective definition of it, anyways.’

You snort. ‘Did you honestly just say ‘objective definition?’’

‘Yes, I think if we’re going to agree here, we need to be on the same page.’ With his intense focus on yours he brushes a kiss against the backs of your hands. ‘If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?’

The smile blooms across your face and right then you’re tempted to say it’s all of them. How much you want his mouth on yours and his hands all over you. How you’re not quite sure you know how to have a relationship with a man anymore, after your ex, but that you want to try with him. How wild and free you feel being next to him.

‘I don’t know about -’ you whisper. You let the truth fall out, not bothering to think about what it might mean. ‘Long term or after tonight. But I’d say, much that I hate to admit Baekhyun could be right, I’d say… uhm, he could be right.’

You avoid Tao’s eyes, focusing on his jaw or the fabric of his shirt or the way his hands hold yours. But still you see how he smiles, almost glowing in the light of the moon and the barest reflection of the sun coloring the skyline to your left.

He clears his throat, pressing another kiss to your hand. ‘Well, I'd look at it this way. Let's say we do get together. Maybe we last a month or maybe we last for the rest of our lives. Another fifty or sixty years. In either of those cases tonight would be just a fraction of the relationship. A small sliver. Important when looking at the broad view of a life together, but not crucial by itself.’

With a nod you look at him and the heat in his eyes makes you gasp. He moves over you, releasing your hands to brace himself on the ground behind your head. The sturdy press of his body reminds you this isn’t a movie or a dream, it’s something real that’s happening to you. The cool grass sinks into your dress at your back and brushes against your thighs.

'Or.' His hot breath cascades across your lips. 'If all we have is tonight.' Moving himself to the side he runs his nose along your jaw, mouth teasing the skin of your neck with barely there kisses. 'One night would be everything. For all the marbles, as they say.' He pulls back and looks at you with a lopsided grin.

You huff out a breath, blowing your bangs out of your eyes, absently running your hands across his shoulders, along his chest. 'I don't know. I like knowing there's always time for more. Like - what if I was tired tonight or hungry or cranky and I messed it up? The thought of just one night still makes me nervous.’

He kisses your forehead and the words come faster, as if hurried along by the morning. ‘If we're a forever thing, then it's okay, because there will be a thousand more chances to get it right. But just once? How can it be perfect if it's so brief?'

'Well, even if we do get together we'd still only have one first kiss.' He rests on one elbow and uses his free hand to cup your jaw, clearing his throat around the roughness of his voice. 'Do you want to wait or shall we attempt perfection tonight?'

The thought of waiting any longer makes you far sadder and you nod. ‘Screw it - kiss me. Please?’

Instead of answering he simply drops his head, closing the distance and sealing his mouth over yours. He groans at the contact, the sound vibrating in his chest where it rests against yours. You grip his neck, winding your fingers through the strands of his hair and hold on, to ground yourself, between him and the grass as he slowly, hungrily, kisses you.

Your eyes flutter for a moment as he sucks on your lower lip. Behind him the sky is bright, the rays of light spilling through the clouds and rendering him art himself. The arch of his brows, full of emotion. You squeeze your eyes closed and hold him tight, grazing his neck with your nails and sighing into his open mouth. Before you can kiss him again he pulls back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes full of delight.

‘That was pretty damn good.’ He huffs out a laugh, running his tongue along his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the taste of you close. ‘Are you sure you want to risk another one? It could be -’

‘Yes,’ you answer immediately. ‘Again.’

He grins and buries his face in your neck, his hot breath falling on your sensitive skin. ‘I think we’ve found the crucial difference between us.’ At your hum he carries on. ‘I can take one moment and hold onto it forever, perpetually living off the way it felt. You want to have it over and over again. And here I thought you were the poet.’

Rolling onto his back he pulls you on top of him with a squeal as you right yourself, bracing hands on his shoulders for balance. His hand rests against your cheek. ‘But if it helps. I - feel the same way.’

‘Oh.’ To keep your surprise and delight from exploding all over your face you bite your lip. ‘Alright then.’ You trace patterns in the fabric covering his chest.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that, just like he said, hours ago.

As the day rises full and bright with the heat of the sun you do indeed kiss again. Several more times. When you’re both red lipped and thirsty and covered in wrinkled clothes you head back to your apartment by UW. He gives you a piggy back ride when your feet start to hurt and helps you make breakfast with a sleepy smile and runs his fingers over the covers of the numerous books stacked on every surface of your apartment and all the while the feeling in your chest grows, not diminishes.

You hurry through a shower and getting dressed for work while he patiently waits on the couch. His eyes are closed when you emerge, putting your hair back in a ponytail. Leaning against the door frame you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You stifle a yawn and think of how not twelve hours ago you didn’t know what his skin felt like beneath your palms or what he’d be like to kiss or how perfectly your bodies seem to line up.

Tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight, you’ll have to report back to Baekhyun and your sister. Though you still have no idea what you’ll say when he asks if the two of you fell in love in one night, you know that, at the very least, it was the start of something.

You leave Tao a note with instructions to sleep as long as he wants and a spare copy of your keys. He works his own shift tonight at Flanagan’s at two, his last one before he leaves on tour. Reassured that at least you’ll see him once more tonight at the party, before he’s gone for - well, you suppose you didn’t ask the specifics yet. You laugh at the thought and quietly shut the door and sprint down the steps to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s hardly after nine in the morning when Tao arrives. Far earlier than you were expecting, but you’ve learned that he likes to surprise you. When you see him standing in line you bite your lip, tilting your head and giving him a sleepy smile.

‘A bit early for you, isn’t it?’ You ask, friendly and professional. ‘You look like you had a long night.’

He laughs, shaking his head and resting his palms on the counter. ‘I did indeed. But it’s been over two hours since I last saw you.’

‘Oh yeah? Is that a long time, then?’ you tease him.

He whistles and leans in to whisper so only you can hear. ‘Far too long for someone in love.’

‘Love?’ The word thunders in your chest.

‘Maybe it’s too soon to know,’ he says, not backing up at all. ‘Maybe love is confirmed by time. But what I feel, whatever this is the start of, I’m greatly looking forward to.’

‘Are you sure you want to start this? You’re leaving, like, tomorrow.’ Suddenly in the light of day the reality of the situation makes your stomach flip.

He clutches his chest dramatically. ‘Don’t sound so sad, love. Please. You say that like I won’t come back.’ He reaches for your hand across the counter. ‘At least we'll have tonight. Tonight or forever, right?’

‘Exactly.’ Unable to resist you lift your hand to hold his cheek and kiss him. It was killing you not to and why not? He’s right. If it’s just one more night, you’re going to make it count.

You pull back and fill out his cup, insisting it’s your treat. Before he leaves you hold out the jar of poems. When he reads the line he laughs, holding it out to you.

“And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.”

― Pablo Neruda

#exowritersnet #tao x reader #zitao x reader #tao scenario #tao fanfic #exo x reader #exo au #exo fanfic #exo scenario #exo imagine #exodus mall

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Gardening

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Pairing: Zack Fair x Aerith Gainsborough (zerith)

Rated: T

Story Summary: Zack brings Aerith a priceless gift, and during so, he's also unknowingly fulfilling many more of her tiny little wishes…she'll just have to think up some more. AKA, flowers get planted and a love flourishes…

...

A03

FanFiction.net

....

Today was going to be perfect.

The fresh scent of topsoil, the earth fragrant and fresh with new life begging to be nurtured under her experienced hands. The small seeds in paper packets and blooming bulbs in trays were nearly enough to bring tears of happiness to Aerith's rich green eyes.

Yet the euphoria she was feeling was nothing but a blip to the full force of the sun that was Zackary Fair.

It was amazing! Her SOLDIER came to visit her at her house rather than her church. Nothing new, but today was different! Instead of only being able to stay for an hour or two before being called off to save Midgar from certain doom, Zack was free to spend the entire day with her - the general's orders! Zack had to even show her Sephiroth's text to prove it and there it was in black and white.

...

"r u sure, seph?"

"For the third and last time, yes, Zackary. I am more than capable of handling things at ShrinRa for one day. Now, instead of continuing to inundate me with fruitless texts, go and have a pleasant day with your female companion."

"but seph! what if u need heelp?"

"That's an order, Fair!"

"...k thanks! see u 2maro! =-D"

"Affirmative. My office for briefing at 700 sharp."

"u got it!"

....

…Wow.

While wanting to reprimand Zack for using such terrible language and grammar to communicate with his superior officer, Aerith completely ignored it to focus on the amazing news! Spending the entire day with Zack was such an exceptionally rare treat she was fully determined to cherish; anting to savor every single, last solitary moment with her handsome blue-eyed boyfriend.

Yet among the gift of his own sunny presence (which would have been plenty enough for her), today, Zack came bearing physical gifts.

Unlike other girls, Aerith had never been someone to care for expensive trinkets to showcase affection such as jewellery, new clothes or purses even if Zack could easily afford it with his First Class paycheck. No, Aerith was far simpler; wanting nothing more than to spend time with him - and she always told him so. The most luxurious thing Zack had bought for her thus far was the bright pink ribbon she scarcely removed from her hair and some delightful floral perfume he mixed himself when they went out on their first date.

Yet instead of some fancy baubles or silk clothing peeking out at her from a large brown box he held out to her was something completely unexpected…

…Zack brought her flowers!

While she grew plenty of her own, Zack had brought her something she could have never found here - flowers cultivated outside of Midgar!

Zack had been deployed on so many missions all over Gaia lately, Junon, Costa Del Sol, and Kalm just to name a few. During these times, they would talk on the phone, text or he would simply send photos to her PHS from locations during his travels. In those small photos he sent, Aerith lit up seeing all the native fauna of the place where he happened to be staying and the flower pictures became a tradition between them. Whenever he'd leave on a mission, he left with a goodbye kiss and a promise to send her pictures of flowers that grew there, and for this past year, he had kept that promise.

But as Zack slowly tilted the box to present her with its contents, Aerith was nothing short of stunned.

Inside were multiple packets of seeds and bags of bulbs. All of the white and brown packaging had his adorably messy handwriting on each with the names of flowers he had sent her pictures of throughout the last year. Deciphering his writing, Aerith noticed the names of more common species from Kalm and Junon but among the packets, there were exotic species from Wutai and even from Banora. Oh! And there were sunflower seeds from Rocket Town!

But…wait, was that -

"...Gongaga?" Aerith asked, noticing the word and glancing up at her boyfriend questioningly.

"Heh. Yeah," Zack chuckled and Aerith noticed his right arm twitch as if he wanted to scratch the back of his head if his hands weren't occupied.

"...Wait, you went to visit your parents? You never told me that! How are they? When did you go see them?" the questions flew out of her mouth at an alarming rate.

Zack just smiled softly (he had such a wonderful smile), "I didn't."

At Aerith's befuddled expression, he clarified, "My mom actually sent them. I wrote her a letter about you - I told her my girlfriend loves to garden and grows flowers and well, the next thing I know, she's sending me back a letter with all these questions along with some seeds from the flowers she and my dad have been growing in the backyard since I was a kid." Zack chuckled nervously as if shy from the information and Aerith felt as if her heart was going to jump straight out of her chest.

Blinking, Aerith glanced back down to the box cradled in his hands, all the work of gathering seeds, drying them and labeling them must have taken forever and he never told her what he was doing!

How he listened so intently as she spoke during the time they spent together this past year, asked questions and was so genuinely interested about her hobby when most times, she thought he was simply indulging her. Yet he was learning so he could give this gift to her… Not to mention the bombshell of him writing a letter to his parents and mentioning her! Proudly calling her his girlfriend and even mentioning her hobbies!

A burning sensation grew in the back of her eyes and she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

"Uh…Aer, i-is everything alright?" Zack's voice broke thorough and she looked up at his adorably nervous face.

"...You really wrote a letter to your mom about m-me?"

"Well, yeah! And my dad too I guess. Uh…I-Is that okay? I thought it would be good to mention it since we've been together for over a year and she's been badgering me about telling her about you when I call, so I figured mentioning flowers would be a safe start-" Zack's voice faded as Aerith lifted her hands and gently cupped his sweet face between her palms. Not mindful of the tears that continually slipped down her cheeks, Aerith couldn't help but smile at Zack, a smile so wide, it made her cheeks ache.

…How did she get so lucky to have this beautiful angel literally drop into her life?

"It's more than okay. It's wonderful…You're wonderful…" she whispered, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and tenderly caressing the scar on his jaw.

Aerith smiled tenderly as she felt his cheeks heat up under her palms. Zack's looked positively (and adorably) flustered at her comments; for once, she was the one to embarrass him and she relished it.

"Thanks… So are you," Zack replied, nuzzling his cheek against her palm. Such a sweet puppy…

Zack's face was so handsome and kind and eyes pretty and warm that Aerith simply couldn't resist pushing herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him. But before she even get close to closing the gap, her chest bumped right into the cardboard box and Zack yelped as he managed to catch it before it could fall or the seeds could get crushed between them as she regained her balance.

Zack laughed.

Aerith flushed a pink so deep it matched her ribbon.

Probably noticing how Aerith tensed in mortification of her actions, Zack's chuckling died out and he easily broke the tension by suggesting, "Hey, I'm all for kissing later, but how about we plant some of these first?" he nudged her hip softly with the box.

Aerith's face was still reddened but she flashed him a grateful smile. A deep breath later, the green eyed girl straightened her back and easily played along, "Planting new flowers sounds wonderful! But… you'll do exactly as I say this time? Because, Mr. Zackary Fair, if memory serves me right, I remember the last time you helped me try weeding the church…" she placed her hands on her hips and flashed him her best withering stare (it didn't work, he just bit his cheek to withhold laughter).

The longer she stared, Zack's grew sheepish at the memory of that fiasco, his cheeks a bright coral red against his tan skin, "Uh… well, in my defense, all those green stems look the same to me!"

Aerith's withering glare worked this time.

"Oh! O-Of course I'll follow your orders exactly! After all, you're the professional here! Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it!" he announced with determination and a blinding white smile.

"Yay! Just what I love to hear!" she bounced on her toes and clapped, completely breaking character before jumping right back in it with a stern voice, "Alright, First Class SOLDIER, Zack Fair, I order you to plant some flowers and perhaps do some weeding, but make sure to do it correctly this time! Do I make myself clear?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am! Operation Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money shall commence immediately!" Zack stated loudly, finally maneuvered the box under one arm and gave her a full SOLDIER salute with rigid stance and stern expression.

Aerith just giggled into her palms before pushing at his shoulder as Zack yelped when the box nearly went flying out of his arms again.

.....

Scratch that earlier statement - today was definitely perfect.

A few hours later, the couple were knelt in a patch of soft dirt.

The rich brown loam permeating the air and making the normally rank Midgar air sweet and fragrant with the scent of flourishing life. Aerith was barefoot, boots discarded as she dug her toes into the cool grass and merely enjoyed the soft breeze as her fingers raked through the dirt under her palms. The brown soil staining her fingertips and getting under her nails and most likely staining the white and blue dress caught under her knees, but she couldn't care less.

Looking to her left was nothing short of perfection.

The flowers and grass, soil and the promise of new life with every seed planted didn't much matter compared to the man kneeling right next to her. Aerith smiled softy. Her emerald green eyes tracing over Zack's handsome face as he had his complete attention on the soil in front of him. While Zack was known to have the attention span of a puppy on a sugar rush most times, when he put his heart into something, Zack easily gave 110% of focus on that task like he was right now.

Ever so carefully, the SOLDIER listened to her instructions, following her along as she showed him how to plant the seeds he gave her. Till the soil, dig the holes to make sure they were deep enough and far enough apart not to interfere with the seedling next to them. Showed him how much water to give the freshly buried seeds, the perfect amount as to not dehydrate nor to drown. With each step and seed and bulb that he planted, his confidence grew until he was doing it on his own and Aerith couldn't be prouder of her first student!

Heart hammering as she took in Zack's concentrated expression, Aerith took his moment of distraction to complete what she tried earlier - this time with much more success.

Leaning forward on her knees, Aerith gingerly pressed her palms to his broad chest. The incredible firm large pecs under her wandering fingers inflated with Zack's surprised intake of breath as he looked at her in surprise at her forward action. Still retaining her nerve, Aerith grasped at his leather suspender straps, using them for balance as she eagerly pressed her lips against the corner of his plush smiling mouth.

The SOLDIER smiled warmly at her action. Hands wanting nothing to grab at her waist to pull her closer and kiss her properly but with the dirt covering his fingers, he resisted. Instead, he chased her retreating face, brushing his cheek on hers before letting his lips leave feathery strokes along her jaw before planting the softest kiss by her ear.

"What was that for? You trying to distract me?" he whispered and he bit his lip upon feeling her shiver as she nuzzled her face in his neck.

Aerith whole body felt electrified at Zack's question and his warm breath caressing her throat and loose tendrils of hair hanging by her ears. "No. Not really… What if I said I just wanted to?"

"...Oh really?" he asked, pulling back slightly and Aerith mourned the loss of his warmth for only a second as she caught his coy smile."Because if I didn't know better, I think you're just distracting me from gardening…"

"What if I am?" her mouth spoke before her brain even registered it. The words that left her mouth made her flush.

"Hmm... well, if that's the case, I'd say you win," he affirmed with the sexiest smirk she ever saw but before she could respond, Zack's mouth pressed against hers. His head tilting so he could slot his mouth perfectly against hers; the action had her toes curling against the grass as she bit back a rising moan. Aerith's hands grabbed at his raven hair, fingers eagerly cording through soft strands and desperately grasping at him to pull him closer.

Yet all too soon, Zack pulled his mouth away with a sinful pop as Aerith panted frantically, cheeks flushed and confused and a bit miffed that he dared to stop.

"So, since we're almost finished planting the dahlia's, how about we move over this hill and plant the sunflowers near the bridge?" Zack asked all too naturally before flashing her a devious wink.

Aerith was affronted for only a moment before she glared at him, "Nope. I'm in charge, remember?" with little hesitation, Aerith gently pushed aside the remaining seeds and bulbs and pushed Zack onto his back. The SOLDIER easily caving to her hands as she pressed at his shoulders til he rested among the soft grass, the bright green a beautiful contrast to his dark hair. "And I say that you're not allowed to get up until I say so, am I making myself clear, SOLDIER?

"Oh, yes..." he grunted lightly for show as she plopped down on his stomach guard. "Crystal clear, ma'am," he replied biting back a chuckle before she leaned over him and kissed him for all he was worth.

...After all, the seeds could always wait to be planted later…

#zerith #zack fair #aerith gainsbrough #ff7 #ff7r #ff7 remake #ffvii #ff7 fanfition #zerith fanfition

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tourettic-brookstone · 3 years

Text

My Ninjago Lgbt Headcannons

They're practically all mini fanfics, but who cares? Lol

Lloyd: From a young age, Lloyd knew he wasn't a girl. Dresses never felt right, and pink didn't flatter him. Everytime he heard his name, he would slightly frown at it. He despised being grouped with the girls and made an effort to avoid them all in all. He would rather roll around in the mud then be forced into another game of House.

Lloyd's mother was not happy with this. She wanted a baby girl she could raise into a fine woman. When Lloyd told her how he felt one day, she screamed at him and told him he would always be a girl.

In her rage, she decided to drop him off at Darkly's in order to try and sway him from his "boyish tendencies."

The school almost didn't except him, but they let him join out of what little respect they had.

Misako's plan to turn Lloyd back into her little girl backfired heavily when the boys at Darkly's actually helped Lloyd transition and pass as a boy as much as possible. Though they claim they only wanted to help so they could have another evil mastermind around, they all genuinely felt for Lloyd as they all were abandoned by their parents.

When Lloyd joined the ninja, Wu was surprised to see his niece had turned into his nephew. Accepting Lloyd for who he was, he never made the ninja aware of the Green Ninja's transition.

His father was also kind and accepting of Lloyd's identity. When Garmadon saw his child for the first time in forever, he was shocked to see it was no longer his daughter, but his son.

Garmadon immediately understood, and made an effort to validate his son all times possible. Lloyd was forever grateful for this.

Later in years, though, Lloyd was comfortable enough with everyone to tell them the truth. They were all supportive, and although some didn't understand, cough cough Jay cough cough, they did their best to treat him the same as always and even help further his transition.

Kai: During his time on Chen's island, Kai had the biggest crush on Skylor. He knew from the very start it wouldn't fully work out, but he couldn't help the yearning he felt for her.

He was now facing that same issue in the coffee shop. He held his hot cup close to him and tried not to make it obvious he was staring. He took another sip and looked up with his head down, gazing at the most gorgeous man he ever laid eyes on. Even his own ego couldn't compare.

Kai quickly averted his gaze when the man glanced at him. Kai felt his face heat up. He swished his coffee before downing another gulp and set the cup down.

With wobbly legs, he stood and made his way over to where the man sat at his own table.

"Hey-hey there," Kai stuttered. The man looked up from his coffee to Kai, who wore an awkward grin.

"Hi. Can I help you?" The man asked.

"Yeah, yeah, actually. I've lost my number and was wondering if I could have yours." Kai internally grimaced and nearly groaned on the outside. Oh that was so corny, he thought. What if he doesn't even like men?

The man smiled and took an unused napkin and pen from his pocket and wrote something down. Kai almost quite literally squealed when he was handed the paper.

"You're Kai, right? The Master of Fire?" The man asked.

"The one and only," Kai said. He slicked back his hair and gave the man another awkward toothy grin.

"Well, I'm Jason. It was nice to meet you." Jason stood from his seat and gave Kai a smile as he paid for his coffee. He left the star struck ninja to himself and left the coffee shop. Before completely exiting, Jason turned back and gave Kai a wink and walked away.

With a face as red as his gi, Kai looked down at the napkin. On it was Jason's phone number and a bucket drawn winky face next to it.

"Yes!" Kai exclaimed. Everyone in the shop turned to look at him surprised. As if Kai couldn't get anymore embarrassed, he ducked his head down and nearly bolted out the door.

Cole: Ever since he was a child, his father made him dance and perform dangerous acts that many professionals couldn't succeed. Cole was often trained alone in his father's home, but occasionally they would take lessons at the village's small dance school.

There, children of all ages and genders strived to perfect their skills of dance and work harder to be the best. His father would often help instruct the students along side the more permanent teachers.

The students were grouped by gender and were taught by certain teachers at certain times. When his father was the current teacher, he made an effort to throw upon his son the more rigourous and challenging dances. This caused Cole to become more distant from the other students. They all felt he was trying to make them inferior to him and avoided him. He was always too tired in his free time to chat and hang out, anyways. And even if he was properly rested, his father would make him continue training.

One day his father grew ill and had to stay in bed for a few days. He, of course, wanted Cole to continue training and sent him off to the dance school.

The other teachers were a lot nicer and less harsh than his father. Therefore, after the day's lessons, Cole felt a lot more energetic then usual.

Taking a long swing of water from his bottle, Cole heard someone shuffle up to him.

Gasping for air after his drink, Cole looked up at a boy roughly his age. He was twiddling his thumbs and looking at his feet in embarrasment.

"H-hi. I'm Zach," the boy said. His eyes darted from his feet to Cole's water bottle, to Cole's face, and back to his feet.

"Uh, I'm Cole."

The boy hummed and shuffled on his feet a little. Cole felt the air turn stiff and awkward. He pursed his lips and waited for Zach to say something else.

"Would you like to sit down?" Cole asked. He was sitting on the floor next to the wall, and it was honestly not very comfortable, but he didn't know what to say.

The boy said nothing as he slowly made his way to the floor and sat uncomfortably close to Cole.

"So are you new here? I don't think I've ever seen you before," Cole said. Zach nodded his head.

"I moved here about two days ago. My mother wanted me to get out of the city and meet some new friends. Everyone here seems a little mean, though. But not you. You seem nice," he mumbled the last part.

"Oh, well, thank you? I guess," Cole chuckled. He felt a little weird as he stared at the boys face. "So what made you decide to start dancing lessons?"

"Well, my dad wanted me to find a hobby, and nothing I've thought about interested me. Except for dancing. He doesn't like that, though. He says it's too girly." Zach made a face at the mention of his father. It for some reason made Cole just as mad. "What about you?"

"Dude, nothing about dance is girly. It's so hard and tiring. You gotta choreograph every move to the music perfectly and not screw up. You also gotta be on time with everything and look good while doing it. You can't overstep anything. You can't get in anyone else's way. You can't do a lot of other things, and it's so hard sometimes. If you can pull off a dance routine perfectly, you're practically a god." Cole finished his rant with a huff of air and looked at Zach exasperated.

"Well, I guess you're a god then," Zach muttered.

"What'd you say?" Cole asked. Zach's face blushed a light pink and Cole felt his heart flutter. He thought he was a god?

"Zach, honey, it's time to go." A woman's voice called from the entrance door and Zach stood to leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Cole," he said. Zach smiled at him and waved before heading off towards his mother.

"Y-yeah. You-you, too," he stuttered. He watched as Zach left and picked up his water bottle again. He felt his heart beating fast, as if he was performing another horrid dance routine for his father.

Could he possibly have caught feelings for a boy he just met? Cole didn't know, and Cole didn't care.

Maybe dance class wouldn't be as bad anymore.

Skylor: You would think running a noodle shop that belonged to your evil father who secretly stole the powers of innocent people to turn him and his followers into powerful snakes and take over Ninjago would be easy, right? Well kind of.

Skylor had lived around noodles for the majority of her life and knew the ropes around running a shop. The only downside was the customers.

"I ordered a large ramen bowl with no noodles!" A woman around her fifties was practically harrasing Skylor at the register.

"Ma'am you're aware ramen is noodles, correct?" Skylor deadpanned at the old woman.

"Why can't you just give me what I want?"

"One large bowl of flavored water coming right up," Skylors sighed and rang the order up.

The woman scowled and stormed off mumbling about calling corporate. Jokes on her, Skylor was corporate.

"Rough day?" Skylor heard someone say. She turned and saw a woman her age slurping up some noodles.

"That's a little bit of an understatement there," Skylor chuckled.

"Oh, I get it. I used to work in customer service, too. It's like some people never went to school."

"Tell me about it," Skylor said, rolling her eyes. She rested her head on her hand and leaned over the counter towards the woman.

The woman took another bite of noodles before clearing her throat.

"I'm Anne," she said.

"Skylor."

"How long have you been working here?"

"I actually run this place. And that's been about a few years? I took over after my father passed away."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Anne frowned.

"Well, you know. He wasn't the greatest of people," Skylor chuckled.

"Yeah, no way he could compare to you," Anne said.

"Excuse me?" Skylor smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"You heard me," Anne mirrored Skylor's smirk and took another bite.

They shared a couple laughs before the front doors were slammed open.

"Skylor! I'm gonna need a buttload of your freshest Puffy Potstickers!" Darreth huffed. His face was red and sweaty as if he just ran a marathon.

"Looks like duty calls," Anne joked. Skylor hummed and drew herself up from the counter to make Darreth's order.

Skylor heard scribbles coming from Anne's general direction. She turned back towards her and was met with a slip of paper being handed to her.

"In case you wanna complain about some customers," Anne smiled. Skylor returned the smile and took the slip of paper to put it in her pocket.

And there was an upside to the job.

#ninjago fanfiction #ninjago fic #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #cole brookstone #skylor chen #lgbtq #headcanon #i feel like coles wasnt as good as the rest lol #for clarification #kai in this is pan cole is gay #and skylor is a full on lesbian #jeez skylors was really short and bland #oh well #i almost lost motivation to write this due to tiktok and chicken nuggets

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

White Lies || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ Can you do 10&13 with tommy please? I obsessed with your writing” (Thank you honey, hope this won’t let you down ♡ )

Summary: n.10 & 13 from prompt list: “I swear to God, I’ll blind you” + “Don’t leave” Warnings: swearing, May Carleton insert, basically jealous reader, Tommy being the absolute cocky bastard he always is, me loving him even more

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, May appears in this piece too, even if she’s never been his lover. Is Tommy Shelby going to generate a mass murder with his cock? Maybe.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your sugar paper dress in lace and tulle gracefully fluttered in the wind, as you walked towards the Garrison, head up, a kind smile on your face and your right arm firmly placed on John’s left one. That same morning, Tommy’s new horse had won his third race in a row, for which reason the Shelbys had decided to have a little party at their pub, so that they could celebrate those amazing successes with their friends and closest fellows from Birmingham, seizing, at the same time, the opportunity to show to the whole town how the family was getting more and more powerful. Therefore, Finn, Michael and John were now escorting you and Polly to the tavern, where the rest of the Peaky Blinders had already got the festivities started. “If you ever get tired of Tommy, keep in mind that I’m here waiting for you, darling” The middle brother playfully whispered those flirty words into your ear, even though he was truly enchanted by the way you looked that night; you immediately glimpsed in his direction, seeing him keep an alluring smirk on his wonderful face and a toothpick held between his rose lips, just like always. A genuine chuckle spilled from your mouth because of his joke, a slight blush instantly covering your sweet face, while your lips promptly left a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny, we can keep it as our little secret” You blinked at him, still giggling out loud, as you entered the Garrison arm in arm, finding a whole crowd of half-drunk people joyfully cheering for the increasing greatness and fortune of the Shelby Brothers Limited. “And that’s Thomas’s definition of small refreshment?” Polly’s usual sarcastic tone prickly referred to the massive amount of guests your fiancé had apparently invited; she lit a cigarette, carelessly throwing the used match on the floor, before her free forearm fondly stretched out to Michael, in a silent invitation to accompany her towards the table where Arthur had already made himself comfortable. Finn, on the other hand, immediately spotted Isaiah amidst the throng, for it took him a scant moment to literally run in his direction, eager as he was to finally spend a night out with his best mate, forgetting about work for a while. “Would you mind helping me find your perennially busy brother, mh?” You asked John, since you were now alone, standing at the entrance like two complete idiots, withouth a clue about what to do next. “Why don’t you come home with me instead?” His eyebrows quickly raised and lowered several times, in an intentionally droll attempt to make that indecent proposal sound tempting, his usual cocky smile never leaving his face. “Oh, shut up now!” you heartily laughed, jokingly punching his shoulder in the process “Let’s just find him, and then you’ll look for a pretty girl to dance with”

“No need to look for girls, love, they throw themselves at me” Your almost-brother-in-law defiantly stated that, while adjusting his houndstooth suit in one swift move, his large shoulders lifted along with his lower lip, giving life to an expression of pure smugness, which esponentially boosted when he found his way to the middle of the pub, performing his usual, cheeky, extremely bold walk. John’s lean and solid body shielded yours as you passed through that enormous amount of people, until you eventually reached for the cluttered counter; your watchful eye immediately caught Tommy’s figure standing with his back turned, a loving grin inadvertently springing upon your red lips, for he had left early that morning without waking you up, and, although it may seem corny, you had shamelessly missed him. Nevertheless, your jaw nearly dropped when, taking a few more steps in his direction, a beautiful woman entered your line of sight: she was talking to him, her clearly infatuated stare burning with desire, one of her palms randily caressing his bony cheek, but the worst part was that Thomas didn’t make a single move to stop her, he just stood there, listening to what she was saying, letting her pet his face. “Oh, fucking hell” John muttered, foreseeing a catastrophic epilogue to that risky situation, indeed, he was perfectly aware that you had no idea of who May was, moreover he could plainly tell she was without a doubt attracted to his brother, which meant no good, considering that you were in the same country as her. Still, before he had the chance to stop you from doing anything, you had already covered the gap between you and them, approaching your fiancé and heavily tapping on his shoulder covered by an elegant black jacket.

Tom’s icy eyes imperceptibly widened as he turned to you and realized how misunderstandable that scene could look; however, within a fraction of a second, he composed himself and regained all of his customary confidence, curving his mouth into an impertinent smirk and placing a hand behind your back, so to guide you in front of the mysterious lady. “Oh, you must be y/n, Tommy’s told me a lot about you! I’m May, May Carleton” Her falsely excited voice brusted out, preceding both of you, and that alone could’ve been enough to set you off, you were aching to ruthlessly punch her in the face, right there and then, yet your strong common sense led you to simply send her a long, eloquent death glare. “Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you, not a word” Perceptible hostility towards that woman infected your tone, still, while you spat that rancorous reply, your killer attention was utterly focused on Thomas, who, for his part, kept looking at you with amusement, blatantly revelling in your jealous little scene. “I didn’t have a chance to” His husky voice nonchalantly spilled from his full lips, whereon he was unchastely sliding a cigarette filter, his piercing black pupils continued to defiantly nail yours as he aimed to provoke you with that silly, senseless remark. Teeth sinking into the warm flesh of your inner cheek, while you tried your best to avoid a beastly outburst in front of everyone; sadly, hardly any moment later, May unwisely decided to throw more salt on your already stinging wounds. “How funny, I’ve been training your horses for three months now” a galling laugh of mockery eurpted from her throat and, once she was sure she had your attention, you noticed raw mischief twinkling in her brown irises “With excellent results, I might add”

She raised the glass of champagne she was holding, along with a hint of her head in Tommy’s direction, inviting him to make a toast to their incredible series of victories; a shrill tinkle filled your ears when his crystal cup joined hers, almost making your skin crawl, you watched speechless and powerless as a seductive expression deliberately contaminated his stunning features. “Obviously. Nothing but the best for my horses”

You just couldn’t believe your eyes, nor your ears; an alarming amount of emotions assaulting your defenseless mind, as you eventually figured out how many lies he had been feeding you during those past months. Soon after he had brought his first mare at the auction, Tommy specifically talked to you about how many expectations and resources he had placed on that brand new project, to the point of actually enlisting an expensive horse trainer, one of their comrades from France, a man they could trust, he did say. Your brain franticly reviewed all of the episodes in which he had called you to inform that he would’ve been late, for he had to stop by the stables in order to check on his beasts; a grievous boulder growing inside your chest, brutally crushing your heart, at the very thought of what could’ve effectively happened in those evenings, your breathing sharply stopped for endless instants, until you regained control of your body, blinking a few times to stop the world from spinning around you. Not a single world escaped your mouth, you only looked at them for one last time, before you hastened to turn tail and run away from that obnoxious situation. Only then, Thomas factually realized he’d gone too far with you, his vigilant stare followed your silhouette quickly moving amidst that mob of drunken yokels, while he briefly took leave of May, without even glimpsing at her once. Pushing and kicking his way through the crowd, he reached for you when you were practically one step away from the main door.

“C’mon, y/n, wait! Hey, don’t leave” Tom delicately grabbed your forearm in an attempt to hold you back, but, as soon as you saw him touching you, a calamitous rage exploded in your belly, leading you to violently yank your arm away. “Take your hands off me, or I swear to God, I’ll bind you with your own fucking cap!” Eyelids squeezing with autentic ire as you snarled in his face, fiercely smacking his hand several times and managing to get out of his grasp; yet, when you tried to leave the pub afresh, his imposing frame promptly interposed between you and the exit, his left palm firmly leaning against the jamb, so to cover the whole open space and preclude you every possibility to find your way out. “Get out of the fucking way, I said!” Frustration filled your yells, you had recourse to all your strength in a restless effort to shove him off, continuing to insult him and punch his chest, still your blows felt like nothing more than tickling to him. Thomas rolled his orbs and, at the same time, raised both his eyebrows, in a plan expression of his nuisance. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, love” Thomas was perfectly aware that he was being a total asshole, afterall, he had never even thought of May in such a way, but, for some strange reason, he wanted to tease you that night, he wanted to see you detonate. His imperturbable tone, together with his absurd words, totally made you lose your temper, you sensed your knuckles itching to crash with his perfect jaw, again and again and again. “Overdramatic?!” your voice raising of a couple octaves “You bloody bastard! You lied to me, God only knows what the hell’s been going on between you and that bitch. What’s more, you let her fucking flirt with you, in front of me!” Hot tears were now forming in your eyes while you kept shouting till you felt your throat hurt, Tommy simply kept watching you, not daring to pronounce a single syllable, but never changing his stoic countenance, nor moving from the doorway. “You were flirting back, letting her touch you that way, you fucking humiliated me, Thomas! In my place, you would’ve killed any man, without even thinking ‘bout it!” Tom’s look somehow softened as he observed your features contract with anger and sorrow, he knew he had unnecessarily and foolishly hurt you, he only was too proud to say it out loud; so, he kept his mouth shut and just came closer to you, carefully attempting to stroke your shoulders with tenderness. Nevertheless, you were too full of wrath and delusion to let him make it up to you that easily: actually, you desperately needed to cry, your cheeks were flushing with resentment, blind choler streaming in your veins. And, suddenly, a dull smack resounded in your and his ears. You slapped him so hard, that his head automatically tilted in the opposite direction, leaving both you and him speechless for a full minute; Thomas remained in that forced position, frozen, without going back to face you, consequently giving you the opportunity to finally pull him aside. “You don’t fuck with me, Mr. Shelby” That was all that you hissed, then leaving the Garrison and not looking back.

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @mclfoybaby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest

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fvrxdrm · 4 years

Text

.•*Office Crush*•.

Damnation/RE6/Vendetta!Leon

Warning(s): None

Excited would be an understatement. You were ecstatic, exhilarated! It was your first day as a D.S.O. agent and you couldn't be any more exultant about it. Every step you took had a bounce to it, your face was beginning to hurt because of how hard you were trying to keep yourself from smiling, and your heart was pounding loudly that you were starting to think that the whole agency could hear it hammering from inside your chest. This was surreal. A dream come true. It may sound cheesy but it's the truth. I guess you can say that no words could express how you felt at that time.

Despite the enthusiasm taking over your brain, you couldn't but feel nervous. This was your first day. What if you fuck up? What if you get fired on your first day on the job? What if you were below their standards? What if nobody likes you? What if--

"Oomf"

So many thoughts were running through your head that you couldn't even pay attention to where you were going and bumped into something or someone, perhaps.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry", you apologised again and again as you picked up your papers off of the floor. You heard a deep chuckle from above you before the mysterious person knelt down in front of you and helped you collect your files.

Fuck up on the first day? Check. What's next? Getting fired right now because of this whole incident? No, no, no. That's stupid, Y/N. Why the fuck would they fire you just because you bumped into someone? Unless...

"Here", the mysterious person handed you your stuff as a small and genuine smile was etched on his face. You took the papers swiftly but gently at the same time, your face beginning to burn slightly in embarrassment. After you've taken everything from the mysterious person, you looked up and what you saw caused your eyes to widen a bit.

This was not just a someone. This was Leon Scott Kennedy, the D.S.O. and the world's best agent.

You've heard multiple stories about him before. How he was one of the survivors of the Raccoon City incident, how he saved the president's daughter back in Spain, how he put an end to the Harvardville incident, and many more. You admired him for that and that was one of the reasons why you joined the agency.

Truth is, you were one of the few people who survived Raccoon City. However, you escaped the ghost town with Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira and never encountered Leon Kennedy or, from what you've heard, Claire Redfield and Sherry Birkin. After that, the three of you went your separate ways and never saw each other ever again except that one time you and Jill happened to be at the same place and hung out for a while but other than that, none.

I guess it's safe to say that that was another one of the main reasons why you joined the D.S.O.. There was a lot of thinking, a lot of second thoughts, but then you realized how much worse the situation was now that technology was getting more enhanced and science had gone too far. People were releasing more death-dealing B.O.W.s here and there and they were much worse than the ones in Raccoon City. You wanted to help in stopping that and this was your chance.

"Uh...thank you. You really didn't have to do that and I'm sorry again", you told the taller man in front of you as the both of you stood up from being knelt down.

"No problem and it's okay. Aren't you the intern?" Leon asked, the tip of his forefinger pointing at you.

Oh, no...he's going to tell the higher-ups what just happened and they're going to fire me, oh God! No, stop it, Y/N! That's ridiculous...right?

"Um...yeah. F/N L/N", you said as you masked your worried and nervous expression with a forced smile.

"Relax, L/N. I'm not going to just tell them and have them fire you. That would be stupid", Leon said and chuckled lightly at how red your face was.

How the fuck??? Oh, God. This is embarrassing.

"Um...yeah. Anyways, I have to meet with somebody today. I have to go", You stumbled through your words and looked down as shame finally took over your body.

This is bad...

"Oh, yeah. President Benford's in there. He told me he was waiting for you", Leon pointed at a frosted glass door just a few feet away from where you were standing.

"Thanks", Leon patted your shoulder lightly before walking away with a smile on his face.

"I'm Leon, by the way", he yelled while he continued walking away.

Yeah, I know...

You sighed and began walking towards where Leon was previously pointing at.

What a kickass first day...

When Leon finally heard your heels clacking against the tiled floor, he stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head to look at you as the grin on his face began to widened.

Cute.

He thought.

Leon actually knew you as another one of his fellow survivors of that incident in 1998. Everybody from the USSTRATCOM and the D.S.O. was looking for you to recruit you as another agent for years. They would track you down but the moment they would arrive to where the GPS had told them to go, you were gone to another place and would never get the chance to even see you. And now that you applied to the D.S.O. willingly, it was a sigh of relief to them that they didn't have to force you to work for them, just like how they forced Leon to, except it wasn't the D.S.O. that forced him... You get what I'm saying.

Leon had even heard stories of how you got out of the city as he was good friends with Jill. Whenever they would see each other, Jill would talk about you a lot. She would talk about how skillful you were in weaponry at the age of 16, how there wasn't even a single sign shown that you were terrified at what was happening at that time, how mature you were in handling the situation despite your age in general. She even showed Leon a picture of you from when you bumped into each other once and he noticed how pretty you looked just by staring at that photo of you.

Your H/L H/C locks were gathered into a messy ponytail that had a few loose pieces of hair framing your face, your E/C orbs that stared back at him through Jill's phone screen seemed to twinkle as the sunlight hit your face, and your cute and bright smile reflected the happiness that was shown in your eyes. That image was forever imprinted on his mind since then and now that he saw you in person, face-to-face, he couldn't help but think about how prettier you looked in person, the bashful attitude you had making him admire you more.

He was starting to fall in love with you more.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's been a month since you've started working at the D.S.O. and your colleagues were surprisingly more than happy to welcome you.

Everyday when you approach your table in the morning there would be various sticky notes just sticking on your desk with smiley faces written at the bottom. You've made friends that would greet you with a hug and eat breakfast with you. There were even some co-workers that would eat lunch with you and chat with you about random things. But most of all, there was this one person that would always place a cup of your favorite coffee on top of your desk with a note attached to it.

You couldn't figure out who it was that would make such sweet gesture as the note didn't have a name on it but instead a heart was written together with the word 'anonymous'. You tried guessing but no one came to mind.

"Are you sure you don't know anyone that likes you?" One of your friends, which happened to be Sherry Birkin, asked you as she sat down on your desk.

"Sherry, if I did I would've approached them and talked to them", you replied before taking another sip of the coffee that anonymous person placed on your desk again.

"Right", was all Sherry could muster as sweat began to form on her face.

Truth is Sherry knew who it was as she caught him setting another cup on your desk the other day and talked to him about it but was told not to tell you as he wanted it to be a secret of his for a while.

Can you just please fucking tell her?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

4 months have passed by and after so many days of training, the president had officially given you your mission.

"You ready, Agent L/N?" Hunnigan asked you as the helicopter in front of you started whirring its blades.

"Yep. Locked and loaded", you replied before grabbing the bag beside you that had everything you needed in it.

"Okay, I'll be guiding you through it", Hunnigan said with a nod. You nodded your head back before climbing on the helicopter and closing the door, your anxiousness finally taking over you as soon as the lights went dim.

First mission.

As you were preparing to leave though, one particular man was watching you with worry written all over his face.

This was your first mission. A solo one at that. He would've been at ease if you had a partner but no, the president decided that it would be better if you were solo.

It's not like he didn't believe in you. He did. He really did. He was the one who trained you for months and had seen your capabilities on the battlefield. He was impressed. Jill wasn't lying when she said you were a strong Amazon warrior. But that didn't mean he wasn't sweating over you. He almost got killed multiple times back in Spain and even got infected with Las Plagas. What's the possibility that that wouldn't happen to you? What's the possibility that the enemies wouldn't get their hands on you? What's the possibility that you wouldn't get killed? What if he never gets the chance to tell you how he feels?

Okay, stop, Leon. She will come back in one piece, all right? You just have to trust her more. And besides, Hunnigan's on the line to guide her. She'll be fine...she'll come back alive.

Right?

It's been a few hours since you've arrived at the location and so far you've only had a few scratches here and there that you didn't even notice were healing on their own quickly as you were too focused on getting the mission done.

There was this scary ass creature that was chasing you non-stop and you were already getting tired because of the running you were doing.

Gwen Ramirez, the psycho that released a virus called the Z-virus (A/N: I couldn't think of anything). He had injected himself with it and now, he became this spider-like beast, you know, like, Pennywise, that wanted to kill you so badly.

"Y/N, are you alright?" You heard Hunnigan ask through the comms after you've hidden yourself behind a thin metal sheet.

"Yeah, I just--", you got cut off. You look down to your abdomen and saw a huge claw piercing through it. You gasped. The claw then pulled out of you after a few seconds and you were left sliding down the metal behind you as you clutched your stomach.

"Y/N!" You heard multiple voices through the comms. You lifted your shirt up a bit and what you saw made your eyes widen in horror and astonishment. The flesh surrounding your open wound was closing on its own and you didn't how the fuck that just happened.

"Hunnigan?" You shakily called the woman on the other line.

"Hold on, Y/N. A helicopter is going towards where your location is", you ignored her statement and just told her what you were seeing.

"How the fuck is my wound healing so fast?" The clacking of keyboard stopped on the other line and nobody spoke for a moment until you heard a male voice say,

"What?" You patted every part of your body but you felt nothing, as if your cuts and bruises were gone too.

"I don't have any cuts and bruises anymore", you finally spoke again. Without any other words, you came out of your hiding spot and saw the creature looking down at you in surprise and confusion.

"How...? You should be dead!" The beast cried out. You looked past the monster and saw a few drums of explosives just standing near him.

"I thought so too", you took out your gun and shot every firkin, the explosion causing for the horrendous creature to be torn apart in pieces.

Just as the explosion occurred, the sound of blades cutting through the cold and dark air was heard from above and a ladder was then thrown down at you.

Once the helicopter had landed on the helipad on top of the D.S.O.'s building, you jumped out of the chopper and let's say maybe a dozen of scientists quickly took you to their lab and took a sample of your blood to examine it and see what was the cause of that sudden ability you had. You happily obliged as you wanted to find out what was inside of you too and just waited as you patiently sat down on a bed.

As soon as the scientist that took some of your blood went of the room, Leon came barging in through the door with a...weird and undefined look on his face...you seriously don't know.

"Hey, Leon-mf", you were suddenly cut off by a pair of warm lips touching your own glossy ones. You tried processing it for a moment but eventually responded back by moving your lips against Leon's as you closed your eyes shut and let your hand reach the nape of his neck.

Leon caressed your bottom lip with his wet and silky tongue as a way of silently asking for permission to which you happily let him by parting your mouth more.

You were running out of breath and it seemed like Leon was too as he pulled away, a short string of saliva the only thing connecting you both. Then, you came to a realization.

"You're the one who keeps bringing me coffee", you said as a small grin started to tug on your lips.

"Yeah. I've always liked you. Jill had told me several stories about you and even showed me a picture of you both", Leon confessed as he proceeded to place a few strands of hair behind your ear.

"Well, I'm glad you do because I've admired you since the day I found out you were one of the survivors", you smiled softly at him again and grabbed his face with both hands as you pulled him in for another kiss.

#leon+kennedy+imagine #leonkennedy #leon+kennedy+fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon+s+kennedy+x+reader #leon kennedy x reader #leonxreader #resident evil x reader

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liujinhee · 3 years

Text

[ Kyuhyun/Reader ]

plotting an us (working title)

Word Count: 2,622

Summary: Art student y/n, theatre student Kyuhyun one shot

Uh, so this was supposed to be a y/n fic, but I think I gave the character so much personality that they qualify better as an OC? Haha... im sorry guys :')

There was little use in trying to reason with yourself why you travel two hours every weekend to the Penguin Ice cafe. Cafe menus were unreasonably expensive, and Penguin Ice was located in the heart of the city, where the population was far too saturated for your liking.

Then you hear the familiar voice saying the words Welcome to Penguin Ice cafe, and you know you'll be coming back next weekend regardless.

You walk straight up to the counter—even if you had a crush on one of the part timers, it didn't mean your judgement was clouded enough that you'd drop by during rush hour just to see him. At 4pm, the cafe was quiet, a few patrons scattered in different corners.

When Kyuhyun's gaze falls on you, his professional smile softens into one you now recognize as warm. “Single scoop of matcha and vanilla with sprinkled topping, having here?”

“Got it in one.” You return the smile, hoping it isn't too wide. The way your feelings tend to write themselves on your facial features has never done more good than harm thus far. Digging into your pocket, you hand him the bill; never the exact amount, if only for the selfish reason of wanting him to drop the change onto your open palm.

And he does. “Here's your change,” Kyuhyun sings in that merry tune you know by heart.

“Someone's in a good mood.”

He makes a show of scanning the bar, which currently only has him manning it, before leaning forward. He's not close enough that you feel his breath, but still close enough that your heart rate picks up as he tells you in a hushed whisper that fails to contain his glee, “It's payday.”

You snort at that, even though you already had your suspicions. Kyuhyun simply gives you a cheeky grin and wags his brows, seemingly pleased to have shared that little tidbit. Your hand twitches with the instinct to reach out and ruffle his hair, something you're not quite able to do to someone you can barely call an acquaintance. So you settle for a Congratulations, to which he bows dramatically, My heartfelt thanks, before twirling away to prepare your order.

He may be majoring in theatre, you think. Or at the very least, hold an interest in it. It's not the first time the two of you have exchanged words in such a manner, nor do you believe it'd be the last. As you watch him drop a generous scoop of ice cream into a cup, you wonder if you should ask him today. Something like, What school are you from? What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you want to catch the next musical that comes?

But they all feel like questions that'd make your existing dynamic awkward. In a way, you already consider Kyuhyun a friend, despite not knowing anything about him other than his name, which you got from his name tag, and that he only works on weekends, which is written on their blackboard under the Shifts section.

Once again, you spend too much time overthinking, and your order is ready before you come to a decision, Kyuhyun extending the cup to you with a gentle hum. Your mumble of thanks matches the tone of his hum, and your feet bring you to your usual seat, empty as it always is. Customers aren't the biggest fans of seats by the entrance, after all; the constant opening and closing of the door can get annoying. It doesn't bother you, however. As much as you dislike crowds, you find comfort in the buzzing of human activity.

And, well, if the seat provides you a good view of the bar where Kyuhyun busies himself with cleaning up, that's just a really big bonus. Once you're satisfied with the angle of your chair, you bring out your pencil and sketchbook, flip to a fresh page, and begin sketching.

It's not always Kyuhyun. Scenery fascinates you, and you've long since lost count of the cityscape, the parks, the rivers that you've drawn from memory and imagination. But it's always when the imagination starts that Kyuhyun joins, somehow making his way into the scenery.

This time, you’ve sketched him barefoot by the beach, laughing as he splashes seawater up a silhouette with his foot. It’s an imagery that comes easily to you; Kyuhyun with his friends out having fun together. He seems like the type of person who is able to get along with everyone, and you're near certain he is.

You scribble down the date and your signature like you do on every piece of art, leaving out your name. The ripping of the page is quiet, barely audible over the music; the edges of the paper imperfect, but they always are.

As you rest the paper under the now empty cup, you can't help but imagine how Kyuhyun would react to the sketch this week. He hasn't shared his thoughts on your sketches since that first time nearly three months ago, when you'd come to Penguin Ice with your friends for a birthday celebration.

I like the way you sketch, Kyuhyun had told you as he served the tray of sundaes ordered by your table. Art student?

Yeah, you'd answered after a moment of shock, watching how the man's eye was trained on the lines of your sketch. Understanding that it was genuine praise. Your eyes had fallen to his askewed name tag, committing his name to memory. And, um, thanks. He'd tipped his head in acknowledgement, set down your orders, and returned to his post.

Looking back, it might've seemed like nothing. But to the you back then who had been dealing with self doubt, the words of a stranger had been everything you needed to hear and more. While your friends chit chatted and ate, you'd done up a quick sketch of the cafe, and left it on the table with a short thank you note addressed to Cho Kyuhyun.

The next time you'd come, it had been because another friend was curious after seeing your post about the cafe before. Even then it had been Kyuhyun who took one look at you and went, Ah, the art student! Right? The memory of that moment still makes you chuckle now. It's in his recognition that Kyuhyun started becoming more than a part timer at a cafe in the city for you.

Now, as you wait for Kyuhyun to turn away and busy himself with cleaning before sneaking out of the cafe like a protagonist in a cliche romance drama, you wonder if this plot will ever advance, or if this is but a draft that will not live to see a happy ending.

It doesn't really serve as a surprise when you come across Kyuhyun at a local arts festival you are a participant of. You've thought about it, the what if. What does surprise you, is how you come across him.

There's an event pamphlet, of course, but you're also not the type of person who focuses on details like the musical cast names. It's not like any of them would ring a bell, since they're students. Except one of them does. You don't connect the dots at first, too tired from hours of live sketch after live sketch for customers. Then you hear it, his My heartfelt thanks, and the thought is formed.

Can it be? You reach into your back pocket for the pamphlet and flip to the musical lineup for today. Sure enough, printed in bold is the name Cho Kyuhyun along with a photo of him. Gods, does he look cute in casual wear. You're staring hard at his photo when he rips your attention back to him with his vocals.

While you wouldn't go as far as to call yourself a theatre enthusiast, it's not like you haven't been to musicals. You have, and you enjoy them when you do. Paid hundreds of bucks for a good three straight hour sitting of a show that'd live in your memories for decades to come. And when Kyuhyun sings, goosebumps rising along your arm midway through the first line, you know that's the kind of level he'd belong on in the near future. That's how good he is.

You're in awe, then you're in wonder, and then maybe, just maybe, you're falling in love with the theatre student and part time ice cream man Cho Kyuhyun. The sudden realisation startles you, but you accept it just as quickly. Little as you may know, it's enough for you to have developed feelings for him, and you feel it growing stronger every passing second in your mind. Your fingers itch with the need to capture this moment forever in the form of a painting.

Then the musical comes to an end, the cast coming together, hands joined as they bow their thanks while the audience reciprocates with thundering applause. Your eyes are still on Kyuhyun as the curtain falls, but you're certain he hasn't seen you in the dark. Nor would he know or have reason to be looking out for you.

You're out the moment you're able, zigzagging through the night crowd back to your post in a rush. It's not that you're late to return, nor will your neighbor mind even if you were. You simply need to pick up a pencil right now and bring to life the visuals buzzing in your head. It's been a while since you've felt this adrenaline rush under your skin.

This is going to be a masterpiece.

You drown yourself in the canvas, skipping your weekly visit to the Penguin Ice cafe for the first time. There's only one reason for it: you don't want to override the memory of seeing Kyuhyun on the stage. A side you've never seen before, a temporary skin he wears so well one may be fooled into thinking it is his own.

There's a moment when you wonder if you'll ever finish the painting—each time you think you're quite about done, the paint setting for the last time, there's something new to add or to revise. You want to make it perfect, but in art, nothing ever is. Still, it is through willpower that you drop the brush for good, stepping back to take a good look at your painting.

It's… well, there’s no other way to say it: it's the man you saw on stage that night. It’s as close to what you wanted to express as you think it can get. The desire, the urge to convey your admiration for Kyuhyun grows overwhelming, and you rush to hold down on the power button of your phone. It’s 7:12pm on a Sunday. Which means there’s a good chance Kyuhyun will be there. They close at 10pm on weekends… can you make it?

It's worth the risk, you decide. You've got to be stupid at least once in your life (or many, but that's not how the saying goes, see). You wrap up the canvas carefully, yelling to your parents that they don't need to buy your share for dinner later, and rush out the second you feel presentable enough for public appearances.

Kyuhyun stares at you unblinking, and you do the same. It's easy to get lost in the reflection you see in them—and he blinks, light returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, but behind it you sense the question.

“Hey,” you return between pants.

“We're closing,” he says slowly, as if you can't tell from the flipped chairs and cluttering of washed utensils, “But if you're okay with on the go, I can bring out the tubs.”

You shake your head wildly before Kyuhyun can go grab said tubs. “That's not why I'm here.”

When you don't elaborate, he nods once and prompts, “Okay… So you're here to…”

“Pass you something. I can wait till you're off work. If you don't mind, I mean.” You're babbling, and you just know your face is a deep shade of red from nerves and embarrassment. To his credit, Kyuhyun doesn't judge despite his wrinkled brows, and gestures in the direction of your usual seat. So that's where you head. And you wait, your mind too crowded and thoughts so jumbled that you blank out until someone taps you on the shoulder.

“I'm done here,” he says, but now your brain short-circuits for a different reason. Kyuhyun in a plain t-shirt and shorts with a bag slinging across one shoulder shouldn't be anything worth ogling over, but it is. Even more so than the photo you'd seen on the pamphlet. You struggle to remember how to string words together and give him an answer, digging into your backpack for the thing you're here to hand him but can't quite remember what.

Then your fingers brush against the cloth holding your canvas, and you're reminded of your purpose. Right. With your heart slamming against your chest, you carefully pull out the painting you spent a week on, all while watching for any changes in Kyuhyun's expression. He has that cute frown that suggests he's confused, and you bite back a smile as you extend the canvas in an offering.

“For me?”

The laugh breaks free from you as he accepts it with a cautiousness you've never seen. “

“Is there… something here?” He wonders aloud, gesturing between the two of you. His question is innocent enough, but then you see the way he's nibbling on his lower lip, the way he's peeking at you from under his long lashes—why are they so long anyway, you briefly wonder.

“An empty space,” you quirk, still somewhat afraid to take the leap, but unwilling to leave his question hanging in the air.

Kyuhyun is instantly right by your side, the sleeves of your t-shirts brushing against each other, his body heat radiating off him this close. You feel yourself stiffen before you relax, easily growing used to this new lack of distance.

“So that's fixed,” Kyuhyun says after four beats of silence. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” you hum to stall time as you think of other quirky answers to give, but it seems that isn't something Kyuhyun is willing to take a second time. His steps grow wider as he makes to stand in your way, forcing you to look up at him. He isn't exactly tall per say, perhaps a 1.8, but you're simply leaning toward the other end of the spectrum.

“Hey.”

He smiles, small and shy and hopeful. “It'd be really embarrassing if I'm reading this wrong, but are you interested in me the same way I'm interested in you?”

And now it's you who's worrying your lower lip, question after question clogging up your mind about all the things you can say that will ruin any possibility of the two of you—Then you look at Kyuhyun again, and realise the man’s likely feeling the same, to some extent.

Licking your dry lips, you decide to go for it. “If by that you mean—” you swallow before you're sent into a coughing fit because of your salivary glands, “—The I want to hold your hand on a date kind of interested… then yes.”

“Who said anything about dating?” he teases, and before your brain even registers the words for you to feel disappointed, he continues, “I think we should start with self introductions first, shouldn't we? After all, I still don't know your name.”

“Okay then.” Kyuhyun clears his throat, his posture tall and grand before he gives a graceful bow, hand extended. “Would you do me the honor of exploring the potentials in this budding relationship?”

It seems like the plot is moving forward, after all.

#sj #sjlong #kyuder #sjau

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 3 years

Text

Party? - P. Parker x O.F.C.

Was totally meant to post this on Halloween but LOL SORRY

Hope you enjoy this, my darlings! I had heaps of fun writing this and exploring the OFC! I’m always a sucker for a little (long) fluffy Petey fic.

- Caz

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

High school was an atrocity of many forms.

The cliques, the bitching, the stress, the finals. But most of all, Flash Thompson.

In a previous life, Flash would have ruled the roost as a self-righteous jock who believed all should bow to him because he could throw a ball 20 yards. In this life, Flash was a brainiac. He used intelligence as if it was his super power, earning him popularity and allowing his vindictive ego to flourish until even the popular kids believed they should bow to him.

In truth, Flash was no more intelligent than any other averagely gifted student at Midtown Science High. His intelligence quivered in the shadow of Peter Parker’s and Flash knew so; hence, sweet, lovable Peter - with his soft puppy eyes and his beautiful brown curls - became a target for Flash’s childish jokes.

The only person who would call Flash out on his bullshit was the one person he was afraid of; his twin sister, Edith.

Edith Thompson. Short, beautiful olive skin, a sarcastic smile that could make anybody flinch, kind eyes, haphazardly chopped brown hair and a bored expression that she often directed towards her brother - who was younger by 16 and a half minutes.

She had often stood up for Peter, showing him and his friends nothing but kindness. Edith was part of the popular clique, and while she enjoyed it, she hated the people. She didn’t hate her brother, but she hated the way he had grown to act in the presence of othersl. In actuality, he was a kind person, empathetic and helpful.

Edith was often known as the mean one in their family, as she rarely allowed somebody to hold something over her. That was evidenced when her uncle told her to focus less on her studies and more on learning to cook. Her uncle no longer allows himself to hold a conversation with Edith anymore, for fear of being ridiculed for his growing misogyny, historic views and all round “douche-baginess”.

But alas, Flash was a man full of secrets, and he used his popularity and viper tongue to disguise his anger and fear of those secrets being found out. As a result, Edith found herself looking out for Peter Parker and his friends.

Peter on the other hand, had no idea why Edith Thompson, one of the popular kids and sister to the head honcho, Flash Thompson, cared enough about his existence to call her brother out.

He admired the woman. He wouldn’t go as far as saying that he had a crush on her - because he knew a popular girl was far above his punching weight - but he did find her to be sweet, generous, beautiful inside and out. He was completely enamored by her.

He also couldn’t deny how his heart slightly skipped a beat when she personally invited him, Ned, Betty and Mj to the Halloween party her brother was holding.

She leaned against his locker one day after class, blocking him from opening it, sending a wolffish grin to himself and the small group of friends that were trailing beside him. As soon as he felt her gaze on him, he blushed uncontrollably.

It only made her grin widen.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite group of smart people,” she drawled. “You busy Halloween night?”

Peter gaped like a fish, confused at the question.

“Well I’m stuck being dragged by my little sister to strangers houses so she can do exactly the opposite of not taking candy from a stranger, so I’m out of whatever you’re planning.” MJ sounded bored with the idea. They got on like a house on fire, and both were happy to call the other a friend. They shared their art class, and the two would often spend the time complaining about anything they could think of.

“We’re going to a haunted house,” Ned chirped, Betty beaming from his side. The two were deeply immersed in the honeymoon stage. It was sickening but also heartwarming to see the two so enamored with one another. Edith couldn’t help but smile as she nodded at his words.

Within milliseconds her eyes were on Peter, watching him all but squirm under her gaze. She quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for an answer.

None came. She sighed, “Come on Petey. I’m 0 for 3 at the moment. I need somebody to hang out with while my brother and his goons overrun the house with their lame halloween party,” she snatched his hand into hers, holding it in both of her smaller appendages and smiling brightly at him.

He brought his eyes up to hers. He didn’t want to go to the party, but he couldn’t think of any excuse to tell her otherwise. He couldn’t exactly say that he was spending the night on patrol as Spider-Man. Instead he simply said, “Uh, yeah sure. I’m free.”

She pressed a kiss to his knuckles, watching the redness spread to the tips of his ears. “That’s why you’re my favourite - sorry MJ.” She dropped his hand, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. On it, was scribbled a number, and an address. “Text me later and i’ll tell you what time.”

She left with a wink, beaming as she walked away. She genuinely enjoyed the company of the four friends, and while she was hoping that more of them would be free to hang out with her, she couldn’t deny the butterflies that flooded her stomach at the thought of Peter coming.

Behind her, Peter watched her figure retreat into the crowd of people, faintly seeing her hand come out and smack her brother on the back of the head as she walked past him.

Ned and MJ were looking at him cautiously, the blush on his skin still not fading. He had said all of 5 words to her, and even then, that was a feat.

“Dude, if you come out of that party having not confessed your intense crush on her, I think I may die from the second hand embarrassment I feel whenever she’s around you,” MJ laughed, rolling her shoulders as if to brush the feeling off. “Honestly, I feel like I need a shower to clean all of your oozing adoration.”

Peter snapped out of his gaze, turning to glare at the woman. “What are you saying? I don’t have a crush on Edith Thompson! She’s Flash’s-“

“Oh my god, we know she is Flash’s sister, but she obviously has a thing for you! She kissed you!” Ned added.

“She kissed my hand!”

“She wanted you to go hang out with her,” Betty interjected, distracted with her phone.

“She wanted all of us to go!”

MJ sighed, “And you’re nervous about hanging out with her.”

Peter groaned loudly, attracting the attention of a few passerby’s as he pulled his locker open a bit too hard. He tried to ignore the sound of the creaking metal. He was definitely nervous. He was excited, but terrified.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I am a little nervous.” He tilted his neck back, lowering his voice as Flash walked past. “She’s Edith. Shes popular and I won’t have any back up!”

Betty looked at Peter with sympathy, feeling sorry for the man. She directed the same look at Ned. Ned’s eyes widened as he realized what exactly Betty was thinking.

With a sigh he turned to his best friend, “What if Betty and I come with you? We can go to the haunted house later.”

Peters protest was met with a flick on the forehead from MJ. “I’ll be there too. Once the demon goes to bed, I’ll escape to your rescue.”

“So you have backup for when you want some alone time with Miss Thompson,” Betty winked at him, smirking at the groan that escaped his lips and the sound of his forehead clanging against a shelf in his locker following by a grumble of pain.

~~~~~

The Thompson house was well kept. Responding in Midtown Manhattan, it was exquisite like the properties flanking it. Walking distance to Central Park, close enough to school that Flash didn’t need to drive, but instead preferred to draw attention in his fathers Audi. Both Edith and Flash had their license, their birthdays a few months before Peter’s, but the elder twin preferred to walk to school or ride her bike.

Peter had never seen the house before. He knew that some people in his class had fancy houses - Liz Allen’s house was evidence enough - but with the way Flash Thompson held himself, Peter thought their house would be a mansion.

The party had begun already. The sight of various of his classmates downing liquid from red cups, grinding against one another, dressed in both elaborate, and barely obvious Halloween costumes.

He felt as if he stuck out like a very sore thumb. He couldn’t think of a costume, so he made the bold decision of wearing his Spider-Man suit, with a basic pair of jeans on top. He forwent the mask, but deeply regretted his decision. As soon as he walked in the door, Flash saw him.

He was sitting on a large lounge, people fawning around him. He was dressed as Frankenstein’s monster.

There were cups set out on the table in front of them, people bouncing quarters off of the table as a drinking game.

Flash smirked at Peter’s arrival. “Hey Penis Parker! Did you get that suit from your Stark Internship?” He mocked. “Should have picked up a Black Widow one-“

Edith smacked him in the back of the head as she walked past the lounge. “Shut it.”

She had decided on a vampire costume, which was really a large band shirt tucked into a leather mini skirt. She had fake blood dripping from her mouth, down her neck, and completed the look with vampire fangs.

She looked divine, but Peter wouldn’t let himself admit it.

She approached him, smiling a toothy welcome, showing the false fangs in the process. “How you doing, Petey? Thanks for coming.”

He struggled to bring his eyes up from her mouth, her smile was enamoring. “No-No problem. Happy to be here.”

She nodded towards the rest of the house, signaling for him to follow. She was wearing black vans, showing her short stature.

“I like your costume. Like a laidback Spider-Man.” She surveyed him young and down, and Peter tried not to shrink under her gaze. The blush was evident. “You look hot.”

“Oh! Um, you too?” He sputtered, eyes wide, more of a question than an admission. Edith simply chuckled, sending him a wink as she led him to the kitchen.

She poured herself a glass of water, preferring to stay sober to make sure Flash didn’t ruin their house. She was raised with expectations of taking care of him when he got himself into trouble, so it was the least she could do to stay on top of his nuisance behavior.

“What’s your poison tonight, peter?” She asked, sipping her own drink. “You getting onto alcohol or are you gonna take the path of the sober loner with me?”

He had always pictured Edith to be a party girl - after all, she was Flash’s sister. “I’m fine with just water, thanks. I don’t drink.”

A few of Flash’s friends made their way to the kitchen, cracking jokes among themselves and eyeing Edith and Peter. The latter did his best to ignore them, feeling more uncomfortable being there by the second, but he was surprised to see Edith looking as out of place as he did.

One of them, a tall, slightly buff man with a 5 o’clock shadow brushed up against her back as he went to get a cup. He eyed peter with a smirk, leaning down to Edith ear. He made no effort to cover his whisper, “When you get sick of this nerdy weasel, you should come find me. I’m happy to show you what a real man is when he disappoints.” The unnamed jock blew a kiss at Peter before slapping Edith harshly on the behind.

Peter stepped forward to punch the asshole, but his chance was taken when Edith grabbed his wrist and put him in a chicken wing hold. The douchebags friends gasped and jeered, watching the 5”3 girl throw their friend against the kitchen counter.

Edith flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned down to his ear, her vampire fangs shifting her appearance to a more threatening vibe.

“Rule number one of being in my house: don’t ever fucking touch me. Rule number 2: don’t overestimate how much of a good time you can bring to the table, and rule number three,” she turned to look at peter, “A real man doesn’t put his hands on another person, and you are not even half the man Peter is. So keep your hands to yourself, baby.”

She let him go, grabbing her drink and Peter’s arm and rushing out of the kitchen.

“Edith?” He asked, his worry growing the more she pulled him along without a word. He didn’t know where they were going. “Edith, are you okay?”

She dragged him outside, to the backyard specifically. They walked until they reached an old wooden staircase. It led to a treehouse to which the years have not been kind to. Peter was skeptical and didn’t quite trust the wood to hold any weight, let alone that of two people.

She went to drag him up the stairs but he wouldn’t move, pulling her back slightly. “Edith, are you okay? What happened with that guy seemed like it was about more than his disgusting attitude.”

She couldn’t deny how innocently cute peter looked. There was faint lighting, the moon providing most of the source, and the concern in his eyes shone true. It had been the first time he spoke to her all night without hesitance its nervousness lacing his tone. Perhaps it was the first time since they started at school together.

She didn’t particularly want to open up, but out of all people, she desperately wanted to know Peter, and for him to know her. Her feelings for him were too strong.

A soft sigh left her stained lips, “Just... cmon up and I’ll tell you, okay?”

She started walking up the stairs, the creaking of the old wood familiar on her ears.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Peter frowned, brown curls falling over his forehead. “It sounds like it’s going to break any second-“

She turned back to face him, her hair, almost as short as his own, flying around her. “There is nothing wrong with this tree house. If it’s going to break then you can just use your spider detector thingy and let me know.”

“Yeah you have a good point,” he nodded, moving towards the staircase, but then realisation of her words set in. He snapped his head back up her, only to see her walking through the door of the treehouse with a smirk on her face. He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the exhausted groans that followed each thudding footstep. “What did you just say?”

She had made herself comfortable on a bean bag that looked far more new than the surrounding wood did. Her dainty hand reached across and flicked a switch, and within seconds almost two dozen fairy lights shone in the space.

“Hey MTV, welcome to my crib,” she grinned, dorkish glee in her eyes ignoring the fear on his face. His brows were high, his face pale. “Okay, okay, fine. I notice things, and one of those things, is that you’re a badass superhero.” She was picking at her fingers, suddenly so aware that Peter may be furious at her for finding out his secret.

“What? No! I’m just Peter. I can barely walk without tripping over my own feet, how could I be Spider-Man-“

She sighed loudly, interrupting his rambling. She raised a brow, trying not to smile. “I have an internship with Stark Industries. I’m a lab assistant, getting credit and extra-curricula’s for college apps.” She shook her head. “I got curious as to why I never saw you there, and I asked Tony Stark about you. He said he had never heard of you before.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m Spider-Man!” He was visibly nervous, shaking hands and gaping mouth. Edith found it adorable. “Tony just works a lot. I don’t work with him all of the time so he wouldn’t remember me over people that are more important-“

“Not to mention that you came to school one day with no glasses, no inhaler, you’re buff as hell, and you’re literally wearing an authentic Spider-Man suit.” She rose from the bean bag, walking close enough that she could press her hand against his chest. His heartbeat was static underneath her palm. “Unless this is like, the best replica ever made, you’re Spider-Man. I’m kind of obsessed with him - well, you.”

“You’re obsessed with me?” He whispered, the smell of her perfume filling his senses.

She lifted her hand to his chin, taking him by surprise before she turned his head slightly to the left. His eyes locked into a wall full of newspapers where the headline focused on a superhero.

“I’ve been documenting since Iron Man came onto the scene in ‘08.” He turned his head back to her, but her eyes were turned down. He could faintly see a pink tinge in the tips of her ears.

He nodded softly, breathing out a heavy inhale. He tried to force his fear to subside, “Okay. You know my secret. I’m Spider-Man.” He stepped around her, careful not to touch her. His feet carried him to the other bean bag. It was a dark blue colour, a contrast against the red one that Edith made her way to. He guessed they were for her and Flash. “So, since were opening up, what’s your secret?”

Her laugh was melodic, her eyes troublesome. “You can’t handle my secrets, Petey.”

“Try me.” He smiled back at her. Her laughter was infectious. “I want to get to know Edith Thompson as more than the girl who led me to a terrifying tree house just to spill my biggest secret to me.”

She snorted, “I’m not sure there’s much more to me than that.” Her fangs were still in, fitting perfectly against her teeth. Her smile was dazzling, and the feel of her dark eyes on his face felt like he was being watched by a thousand eyes. He was starting to like the feeling. “Alright”, she crossed her leg over the other. “Speak the questions that weigh on your mind and I shall answer.”

“That douche in the kitchen...” he trailed off, watching her carefully. She didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Ex-boyfriend. Convinced to date me by Flash, expected to use me for sex, didn’t like that I have a brain in my head, I developed feelings, he cheated on me, the rest is history,” she smiled small. There was an air of unease around her, it was full of fear. She rarely had the chance to talk to people in this way. “That the answer you were looking for?”

He huffed through a smile, leaning forward onto his elbows. Almost all of his previous nerves had dissipated. After all, Edith Thompson was now one of the few people who knew of his own biggest secret. How much worse could things get? “I don’t really know what to expect from you, Edith, so yeah, I guess it will suffice.”

“What do you mean by that?!” Her voice raided in pitch, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat. “You’re an enigma. You’re popular, you’re intelligent, kind, beautiful, you stand up for people-“

“You think I’m beautiful?” She winked at him, watching as a slight blush rose on his cheeks and he stammered through some words once again.

“I, Uh, I just don’t really get why you talk to people like me, when you have so many people clinging to any bit of attention you give them.” He wrung his hands together, nervous for the answer. The thought had been going over his mind for so long.

Edith Thompson was the most popular woman in school. She had many friends, yet she chose to talk to Peter and his band of outcasts friends. He was the butt of all jokes to her twin brother, yet she gave him the time of day.

It was hard for his brain to completely comprehend that he was sitting in an old treehouse, on the Thompson residence, with Edith Thompson.

“I’m not popular,” she laughed softly. She looked almost sad, but the micro-expresssion was quickly hidden by an empty gaze and the same smile she had plastered on her face since they sat down. “I’m surrounded by people who want to be friends with my brother. I stick around him out of obligation, not desire.” She looked out the small window that was next to them. Of all the things on the property, the treehouse was the most normal. Edith and Flash had built it with their father when they were younger, and Edith got her wish for it to be as average as possible. “I love my brother, but living in his shadow is lonely. You and your friends are the only people who actually go out of their way to talk to me about more than my brother.”

“Then why don’t you just ditch him? His friends are all assholes anyways. Come join the cool club,” the joke inflated his confidence and he found himself winking before he could stop himself.

She snorted, leaning forward slightly. There was something about peter that made her want to open up. He was kind, inside and out.

“If only it were that simple,” she replied, allowing the vague response to linger in Peter’s mind. “Besides, if I weren’t around him, then I wouldn’t be able to smack him every time he’s a dick to you.”

There was a pregnant silence. It was then that the reality of the situation set in. He was at the house of the person who bullied him constantly. The sister of his bully was sitting in front of him, knowing his biggest secret and had confessed a need to defend him whenever her brother was a dick to him. Shame visibly washed over him.

He hung his head. “Y’know, you don’t have to do that.” He focused on a splintering piece of wood on the wall. Despite the damage it still looked stable. “I can defend myself.”

Edith furrowed her brows, “I-I didn’t mean to offend you, Petey. I didn’t mean to say that I was protecting you, it’s just, I know that Eugene is my responsibility to keep in line is all.” In the middle of her sentence she had stretched her body over the gap between them to lay her hand on Peter’s arm to reassure him. “It’s not the first time he has scared somebody away from me.”

“You won’t scare me away,” he smiled at her, almost sadly. “If anything, I would scare you away. I don’t have many friends outside of my little group.”

Friend. The word stuck in her mind, taunting her. She had thought her feelings were obvious to peter. She had constantly felt the need to make sure he was okay, and she routinely protected him from her douche of a brother. She was absolutely smitten with him, and she had been for a long time.

“When Eugene and I were younger, my mother told me that I need to look out for him. He tends to get himself in to trouble out of a constant need for validation. It’s been like that when our dad moved out, but dad tends to favour Eugene because he is doing well in school and has become popular.” Peter’s eyes widened. He had no idea that the Thompson parents were separated let alone that Flash had underlying triggers for his behaviour. Edith raised hair hands, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not excusing him at all. He’s an asshole and that’s the bottom line, but... I don’t know. I just understand him.

“But, he has also shown a tendency to get jealous when a man comes into my life that he doesn’t approve of. He worries that I will leave like dad did.” It was Edith’s turn to have a sad smile. “Whenever I’ve found somebody on my own, he’s made it impossible. And now that I’ve found somebody, I’m worried that he will scare you away.”

Her eyes turned down, not meeting his. The silence was full of electric tension and she fought with her growing regret. She had wanted peter to know how she felt about him, but she hadn’t wanted to pressure him. She wanted to explain her reasons for fearing the loss of him, and why she tends to jump to his defense in the face of Flash.

Peter was quiet for only a minute, but the time it took for the realization of her words to set in felt like hours for the both of them. But when he processed her words effectively, his heart began to race.

Edith Thompson had just confessed that she had feelings for him. His mind was racing with two possibilities: 1. She had figured out that he was Spider-Man and wanted to use him to further her popularity, or 2. Edith was every bit as kind and amazing as he though her to be, and she simply had feelings for him that she wouldn’t pursue.

She watched his hands move. His deft fingers seemed to run along the black spider emblem on his chest, and she could guess where his mind was traveling.

“I’ve been worried about that for a while, Petey.” Never has he seen Edith seen so shy. “Since middle school really. Long before you were Spider-Man and I was in with the popular group.”

Her words corrected his thoughts, and his eyes widened more than they both thought possible. She had always admired his large eyes, needed to stop herself from staring into them multiple times.

She could faintly see the tips of his ears tinge pink once again in the dull light.

Peter knew his next words, but they came as a shock to Edith. “I’m not going anywhere, Edith.”

Her head shaped up, her eyes searching his face from behind her haphazardly chopped bangs.

She allowed a small smile to occupy her lips, slowly stretching larger.

“I really like you,” he whispered to her, leaning forward to grab one of her smaller hands.

Her smile enlarged, showing her teeth in a vampire fanged-grin, “I really like you too, Petey.”

“Do- um,” he looked at his hand where his fingers traced over her knuckles. “Is it alright if I kiss you?”

Her heart felt a flutter at his soft spoken question and as an answer, she leaned forward to close the gap between them, her lips caressing his with such a gentle touch.

All that could be heard between them was the mingling of their breath and the bass or the music from the house.

For the first time, Edith Thompson and Peter Parker sat together, in one another’s arms. They spoke about almost anything, enjoying the company of one another. Peter had even agreed to let Edith take him on a date. They hadn’t even noticed their friends wandering around the party in search of the two of them.

“So...” he began nearly two hours after their original conversation. She hummed in reply. “How did your brother get all of the teachers to only call him ‘Flash’ instead of Eugene?”

She barked out a laugh, not quite knowing the answer herself.

“And why the fuck did he decide to be called ‘Flash’?!”

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