#there are other coffee shops but i cannot express to you the vibes of this place i wish i could bottle it shes everything to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetkpopmusings · 1 year ago

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how they feel before they know it's love with seventeen <3

a/n: i'm genuinely obsessed with "i don't understand but i luv u" like i have been listening nonstop since it dropped and i cannot get enough <333 i thought it'd be cute to do a lil post somewhat inspired by the song, so here it is !! i hope you find some comfort in the sweetness of these :,-) pics not mine~

content: fluff, sentimental and cute vibes only | wc: 2.6k | warnings: none really! | pairing: seventeen x gn!reader | requests: open

seungcheol♡‧₊˚

seungcheol, as a leader, knows how to step back and support his members, even when it comes to holding back what he wants to say to let the others continue the excited conversation. with you, it was an entirely different story. it’s not that he ever spoke over you–he would never dream of such a thing–but he talked with you nonstop. there was an effortless exuberance in your conversations because he knew that you’d always listen to him. anything, truly anything, that popped into seungcheol’s head was something he wanted to share with you. sometimes he worried that he was annoying you with his endless chatter, but speaking his mind to you was instinctive. he wanted to share every one of his thoughts and perspectives with you because he wanted you to have all of him. every word he said to you was filled with a deep desire to share himself with you. the vulnerability that flowed through each conversation with you convinced him that maybe, just maybe, there were some important words he had not said to you yet.

jeonghan♡‧₊˚

jeonghan’s an extremely caring person. everyone knows that about him, but his thoughtfulness towards you went to a whole different level. he thought of you first for everything. everything. he could be on tour and trying a new drink, and the first thing that would pop into his head is “y/n would love this drink.” he did not care that you were hundreds of miles away from him; at that moment, all he would want to do is send you the drink in his hand, so you could try it and then tell him what you think about it. he never realized thought of you constantly until one of his members–probably joshua–pointed out how he always said your name in conversations or bought two of everything just in case. jeonghan would never intentionally try to bring you up, nor was he aware of how he ended up with duplicates of small items. in truth, your name was always on the tip of his tongue, and you were always on his mind. one day soon, something else would be on the tip of his tongue when he said your name.

joshua♡‧₊˚

joshua tried to play it cool, but he was fascinated by you as soon as he laid eyes on you. the nuances of how you speak, the gestures you make when you’re telling a story, and the way your favorite songs exposed the most important parts of you–shua was obsessed with memorizing each of these things. when something about you was engraved in his mind, he would show you he knew it by teasing you. his imitations or remarks were always spot on, but they clearly came from a place of fondness and attention. he teased you effortlessly with a soft smile and a sparkle in his eyes, something that made you melt each time. he wasn’t aware of the look on his face or the tone of his voice because the adoration came out so naturally when he was with you. if other people were around when shua poked fun at you, it was completely obvious to them what he was actually saying when he flawlessly imitated your facial expressions while telling a funny story from when you two went to a coffee shop over the weekend. even before either of you could put words to it, you could clearly feel the love behind every teasing jab.

junhui♡‧₊˚

junhui is so very unique, and that shines through in the way he treats you. from the moment he met you, he felt a very intense urge to make you smile. he thought about you constantly, and, one day while shopping around in a random city the day before a show, he found a small figurine that reminded him of you. he was so excited to give it to you that he couldn’t stop smiling every time he looked at it. from that point forward, he collected small trinkets and keepsakes for you, as a way to bring you a little burst of joy, even when he was away. sometimes he bought them, and other times he would just hold onto a sticker from a music shop you went to together, giving it to you when he was proud of you for a specific accomplishment. to junhui, it only made sense to write you a little note with your favorite jokes and hide it in your bag for whenever you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up. through each thoughtful gift, it became clear that he wanted to give you the world, and junhui most certainly would, one snowglobe and ticket stub at a time.

soonyoung♡‧₊˚

soonyoung always felt strongly about you, so he never really stopped to put an exact word to it. how he felt about and with you was something special, something only shared between you two. it was just the world you lived in together, and, in his mind, there was no reason to analyze his natural state of existence when it felt as wonderful as life did with you in it. one thing, however, that made his head feel light and his stomach feel frenzied was a new habit he developed after he met you. whenever he said something funny, even the smallest comment that made someone else laugh, he immediately had to tell you. he’d call you, send you a voice message, or rush over to you from across the room, just to tell you the story and repeat his silly little joke. soonyoung, from the first time he ever heard you laugh, knew that he needed to see that smile on your face and hear that sound fall from your lips every chance he got. he wasn’t quite sure what to call that. soon enough though, he’d figure out how to express his deepest feeling for you with words that weren’t tied to a punchline.

wonwoo♡‧₊˚

wonwoo always excelled at observing everyone and everything around him. after he met you, however, most of what he saw, heard, tasted, smelled, and touched made him think of you. everywhere he went, something reminded him of you, and he’d always smile. the shoes a stranger on the subway was wearing could be similar to a pair he saw you in the other week. maybe, in the back of the restaurant he ate at with friends after a long day of work, there was someone who ordered a drink he’d ordered for you a hundred times. no matter where he was, what he was doing, or whom he was with, wonwoo found something in his surroundings that tied him back to you. even when you two were together, you’d catch him smiling in a quiet moment. he’d brush it off, say “it’s nothing; i’m just happy to be here,” but, really, he’d want to say “the sound of the car horn made me think of that movie we watched together a few weeks ago, and every time i think of you i feel so comforted and happy, like nothing could ever go wrong.” he’d stay quiet, pondering what it truly meant to always find you in his surroundings regardless of the distance between you, and he’d squeeze your hand a little tighter as he discovered the answer.

jihoon♡‧₊˚

it was extremely easy for jihoon to find inspiration for his music from you. what he didn’t realize was that you left an indelible mark on his taste in music. whenever you two spent time together, he would give you the aux (literal or proverbial) because he was interested in what music made you happy, sad, want to dance, relax, etc. he listened very intently, and it took almost no time at all for the songs you introduced to him to make their way onto his playlists. more than that, he would frequently hum the melodies of songs you showed him as he walked around his place and cleaned. no one would ever point it out to him because they had no way of knowing that the new songs he obsessed over were all tied to you, but, eventually, jihoon realized that all the songs he associated with you were the only ones he ever had stuck in his head now. memories of you permanently embedded songs into his mind, a playlist only for him to listen to in the quiet moments of life. as he wrote lyrics that expressed this occurrence, he understood that it all came down to the fact he could never, and would never, get you out of his head.

seokmin♡‧₊˚

seokmin was so fond of you, and he naturally expressed that fondness by giving you at least one thing to smile about each day. it started as a way to break the ice during conversations when you first got to know each other. once you two didn’t need icebreakers, the habit stayed, and seokmin’s habit became one of the strongest aspects of your relationship. seokmin never relied on anything fancy; he would send you a wholesome meme in the morning, so you could start your day smiling, or he would show you a funny video clip when you met up for dinner, starting the night off with a hefty dose of laughter. there was a sparkle in his eye when he laughed with you, one that only showed up when he saw your smile. he would be particularly proud if he made you laugh until tears fell or you smiled so big your cheeks hurt. whenever that happened, he would boast to his members, showing them the picture or video while beaming with excitement as he recounted your reaction. alongside his excitement toward your joy existed the fact that he couldn’t rest easy until he knew you had at least a little bit of serotonin in your day. truthfully, he never felt more at peace than when he was the source of that happiness, and he wanted to feel that for as long as humanly possible.

mingyu♡‧₊˚

mingyu has a real presence. from his height to his goofy personality, people know when mingyu is around. those charms were how he caught your eye, and he always got an energy boost when you were around. as he grew closer to you, more comfortable, mingyu’s behavior revealed an even sweeter side of him. whenever he spoke with you, his voice was soft and careful, every word meant for you only. his looks always held you gently as he soaked up every word that you shared with him. any times jokes or teasing comments wove their way into your conversations, he laughed hard but quietly, just loud enough for you to hear, even leaning closer to you, enclosing the both of you in the joy of the moment. if you had physical contact with each other, mingyu’s touches were as soft as everything else about him. it was never out of the belief that you were fragile. rather, tenderness radiated from mingyu whenever he felt you near, and it enveloped his entire being when he looked at you. mingyu was always caring, always considerate, but his loved ones often commented that they had never seen him so soft before. mingyu knew, without knowing how to explain it quite yet, that you were the difference.

minghao♡‧₊˚

minghao values peace and quiet. life is chaotic for most people, and this was especially true for someone in his line of work. he tried, as best as he could, to create pockets of calm whenever and wherever he could, through meditation or simply waking up to watch the sunrise by himself. searching for that peace grounded him in his toughest times, and he depended on that calmness to get through it all. as he got to know you, searching for that peace became easier. minghao was calmer, knowing you were there, and he instantly relaxed whenever you were beside him. there was not anything specific that you did; you could just look at him, and his whole body would relax, proving just how stressed he had been mere seconds before he laid eyes on you. to minghao, you were the ultimate source of serenity. he never wanted to lean into clichés, but it was true that, even in a crowded room, he would know you were there by the way his heartbeat relaxed into a natural, happy rhythm. it didn’t take long for minghao to notice that you had this effect on him. it also wouldn’t be long before he admitted this, and something just as meaningful, to you.

seungkwan♡‧₊˚

everyone knows seungkwan is an entertainer through and through. when you two were introduced to each other, he performed as well as he could to keep you laughing, and, unbeknownst to himself, to impress you. as time passed, however, he realized didn’t have to perform in front of you. he felt comfortable enough to be his most authentic self, and he only ever wanted to be his most authentic self with you. he still loved to do bits around you and be dramatic when the moment called for it, but he wanted to show you other sides of him too. for seungkwan, he felt a connection with and appreciation for you that could only be expressed by him letting his guard down. what mattered more than entertaining you was showing you every part of himself as honestly as humanly possible. showing up exactly how he was whenever he was with you was all he could think of because he always wanted to meet you exactly where you were. it wasn’t long after he realized this that his truest feelings toward you came out. it wasn’t something he thought of before he said it; it was something that slipped out when you asked him, “how was your day?”

hansol♡‧₊˚

hansol’s mind is expansive. his perspectives reflect his astute introspection and deep compassion, and he would never cease to amaze–or entertain–those around him with the thoughts inside his head. to hansol, however, your mind was the most fascinating. he was deeply curious about the things that made up who you are: your hyperfixations, the dreams you had at night, your favorite snack for each time of day, etc. he was endlessly entranced by everything that colored your life. he wanted nothing more than to color his life with them too. this genuine interest meant that hansol’s eyes were filled with childlike wonder whenever you shared something about yourself with him. he committed every minute detail to memory, and he often retold anecdotes from your life during conversations with his friends. even to them, it was endearing to see his delighted laughter as he recounted stories of small social faux pas in your adolescence that became inside jokes between you two now. it was during one of those conversations, while smiling at the thought of you, that hansol started to uncover what influenced his infatuation with all things you.

chan♡‧₊˚

chan took to you immediately. your personality charmed him, regardless of how charming you thought yourself to be. he couldn’t get enough of the conversations shared between you two, existential or lighthearted. chan genuinely wanted to talk to you as much as humanly possible–without annoying you or taking you away from the other people you cared about–and that’s why he started calling you whenever he was done with his schedules for the day. it could be the hardest practice of the year, but chan, drenched in sweat and barely able to walk, would light up the second you started to say “hello” on the phone. the sound of your voice literally put a pep in his step. he developed a liking to walking home, just so he had an excuse to talk to you for a long time without any interruptions. neither of you needed convincing, however, because everything flowed so seamlessly between you. chan didn’t know exactly how to tell you this, but, with you, he was eager to say even the simplest things until his voice gave out, just so he could keep on talking to you.

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steelthroat · 1 year ago

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*Bust through the wall like the Cool-aid man* Did somebody say worldbuilding?

Cybertronian architecture has always been an interest of mine and sadly we never really get a proper look at its cities aside from ‘futuristic looking towers’ and the shapes are cool! But it’s also kinda boring. Unfortunately I severely lack knowledge in the field of architecture and have been using canon and fanon to create a general ~vibe~ but I do have some consistent ones.

Vos: Towers have holes to maximize airflow. No sharp edges and small over the top decorations like in Russian artistry. It might seem like a weird combo but I swear it Seekers = Russia just makes sense

Praxis: Asian inspired in almost all aspects but architecture, follows Korea philosophy of architecture mostly. Their buildings would flow a natural floor plan meant to balance out “energies” (I swear this is based of a real Asian philosophy but I cannot for the life of me remember what it’s call). You could probably get close with calling them Green urbanization because they include their singing crystals in everything

Nyon: I don’t have any particular culture but it’s definitely super cramped together with tons of back alley and steep stairs. Scrap metal sheets protects against the acid rain and most roads are bumpy cobblestone, alt modes don’t see a lot of action here unless you’re a beast former. Bonus is cool parkour! I wanna say it’s like the Underground from Arcane but less sketchy people

Smaller noteworthy details include:

-Tarn having long strips of road with essential shops (Midwest mining towns)

-Polyhex has geometric engravings on the side of buildings. It’s also connected to water/liquid transportation somehow, canals, the Rust Sea, whatever it’s got ports and liquid.

-Helix, Antihelix, or any city with -Helix has roundabouts and a grid pattern

-The more “touristy” areas of Kaon Gladiator pits look Roman but the local places where regular people live are all American/New England Post-Industrial

I could go into so much detail about this stuff and my understanding is that the basics of design are pretty similar across cybertron where meeting the purpose and necessary accessibility requirements are top priority. However, Layout plans will vary depending on the majority frame class and style will be more distinct the more disconnected from Iacon they are (I’m using Iacon as the trend setting “ground zero” so to speak).

This message is all that I needed as I woke up, screw morning coffee, I don't even like coffee!!!

*smooch*

I super duper like these ideas!!! I was reading and googling the whole time ahahdhfh

Yes it is a little bit boring that every Cybertronian city is down "the same way" and especially after the idw continuity where the lore is thick and we learn that the culture varies from city to city I can't believe that there are the same architectural styles... like we have varying styles from region to region (Italy) and we're all humans, imagine a place where some people drive, some people fly and some other do weird things ahahdh.

Another thing that interests me is the artistic expression of the inhabitants of those cities, an Iaconian (Iaconi? Iaconist? Ia-whatever???) would never create the same kind of art as a Kaonian (Kaonite? Kaoni????) artist.

It's like when there where romanticism and neoclassicism at the same time and varying from where the artist came from they would lean more towards one instead of the other (this is an oversimplification but I hope I'mmaking myself clear)

Also the message behind the art:

Iacon is so fkn neoclassical in my head it's unbelievable, so attached to the past "the golden age" the "true art" amd the idealistic beauty

Kaon could NEVER embrace those ideals, Tarn and Nyon and Rodion neither.

So just like the art would drastically change, the architecture would follow the lead... also because different frame types and some cities like Vod tend to have a majority of its inhabitant with a specific frame/alt-mode

If I may headcannon even more I'd say that the richer parts of the cities resemble Iacon because of its hegemony.

Why not make laws about architecture excusing them with something like "this kind of building is dangerous to xyz" or "it reminds of x traumatic age"?

Lol Cybertonians have fought for AGES and if we take a look at the Restoration age where they changed even the interior design to destroy anything that reminded people of Napoleon... I'd say that this could work for Cybertron too. Who doesn't love a little bit of historical revisionism -_-

Why not make hostile architecture against specific frame types and castes?? If someone tells me that there's a fictional discriminatory and dystopic society I WANT TO FEEL IT.

#transformers #maccadam #steel rambles #steel answers #babe wake up new tag just dropped #I will keep rambling about this fear not

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yourturntofnaf · 5 months ago

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anzu playlist !! requested by @corvidcrowned

I was hoping I could make this one longer, but I put a whole lot of thought into what I was able to add. I'm hoping to add more if I think of anything

since this one had a lot of specific (or vague) reasoning behind it that might not make sense on their own I thought I would give a little explanation for each (under the cut)

I felt like a lightbulb went off in my brain when i thought of "stay strange" for this playlist. it's such a cute and upbeat song that I just love for her. everything about it is perfect for sweet old anzu

evening out with your girlfriend by fall out boy fits her on an aesthetic level (the sound is young, fun, and energetic, along with the album having some of her color pallet) so I felt the world's not waiting for us and parker lewis can't lose would by nice additions. the world's not waiting kinda reminds me of her minisode ("this might just be a waste of time / there's no one I'd rather waste all my time with than all my best friends"), and parker lewis has a theme of misspeaking or having your ideas and suggestions misunderstood ("I've got a big mouth, maybe you could handle shutting it up" and "in the mean time, I'm just talking with my shoes / converse with my converse, atleast they hear a word I say")

she's a handsome woman by panic! at the disco, along with I took your picture and right words by cults fall into the category of "I can't give a reason this fits her personally, but it's a vibe she might enjoy"

secret shame as a band reminds me of anzu a lot in an artistic sense (their lead singer does very bright looks at their shows, with clown-esque makeup), and I decided crystal kind could somewhat fit her? I associated it to what the aftermath of ryuus sudden departure could've been like as it would probably have a major impact on her to lose her mentor so suddenly. I'm slightly more confident in the addition of accelerate, also by the same band. the verses recite a thought process that has a lot to do with the fear of being judged by others, which is one of the first things anzu expresses to us. seriously though, go check this band out! they're awesome

flowers grow out of my grave by dead mans bones also hits that category of little reasoning beyond I think she might like it. it's a cute little song that I think would make her happy

I felt like my typical artists were failing me on finding anzu approved songs, so I went to some indie artists I like. hush by attack dog stuck out, once again hitting the topic of anzu's thought process post ryuus departure ("too many melodies revolve within me / I just shut my eyes, wait for it to subside"). she seems to be the type to push suspicions or troubling thoughts out (mostly seen how she handles justifying the suspicions of ryuu already having a uniform that would be perfect for her)

by this point, I'm scratching the absolute bottom of the barrel. we're talking searching through my 2020 playlist. I found this one song I heard an artist play in a coffee shop like 4 years ago, "diamond girl" by courtlyn louise. I can slightly relate this to anzus fear of being judged as strange... maybe? maybe you can consider this to how she might view her friend for the minisode (who honestly seems a tad bit judgemental and I would not be shocked if this somewhat fuels her insecurity I've mentioned). like I said, we're getting a little desperate here.

cannot believe it took me this long, but I finally put it together to check some of the cures softer stuff. jumping on someone else's train made the playlist for the trend of non conformity and embracing doing things differently. also picked underneath the stars as a song she'd enjoy, and to fill a slot that often comes up in character playlists for a song that you can associate with your favorite ship of them.

and with that, thats about all I could think of. apologies that this one is shorter than the rest, it appears my music taste doesn't have much overlap with how I perceive anzu which was kinda expected. this was really fun though and it made me think of parts of anzus character I never really did before ^u^

note: any songs that I associate with ryuu that have lyrics that imply romanticism are not at all intended in that way, I do not ship them. I use songs that may have been written with some romantic intent but are not inherently love songs to fit platonic or otherwise non romantic dynamics in my own life and occasionally on character playlists just because it is near impossible to find songs that have absolute 0 hint of possible romance

fun fact if you give me a yttd character I will make a playlist for them. probably.

#i wish this one had more im so sorry #anzu is so awesome #anzu kinashi #anzu yttd #yttd #Spotify

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hotchreidd · 4 years ago

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small town hotchreid omg please

alright, the first thing that needs to be said is: atticus finch. aaron hotchner has BIG atticus finch vibes. i said what i said. in this lil au ive created in my mind, aaron’s relationship with jack is very similar to atticus and scout’s.

after foyet, jack and aaron get grief counselling and decide its best to move away and start anew. aaron wants to be a full time father and jack deserves a normal childhood.

an old law school buddy of aaron’s is relocating to the city and says this small town would be without a lawyer. they move there and aaron takes over the practise.

jack makes quick friends with the other kids in the town (there isn’t many.) and aaron becomes the main topic of conversation amongst the town’s wives club. he’s the most attractive bachelor the town has ever seen.

jack is professing rapidly in school and the limited number of teachers the town has cannot keep up.

luckily, there’s a man who can help. his name is doctor spencer reid and he lives at the edge of the town. the wives think he’s a bit weird but generally a pretty nice guy, he spends his time doing... god knows what.

the school asks spencer for help teaching jack. he accepts. he becomes jack’s tutor. three days a week, spencer comes to jack’s school and spencer tutors him in a private classroom. the other two days are spent with the rest of his grade. (aaron wants him to have friends his own age and experience things like normal kids should, aaron fears isolating jack from his peers might make him regress.)

the first time they meet, aaron is instantly attracted to spencer. he’s handsome and carefree and has a youthful look in his eyes that aaron hasn’t seen in anybody since he joined the fbi.

he feels constantly indebted to spencer. he didn’t have to tutor jack, it’s 18 hours of his week. he’s getting paid the same as any other teacher and refuses to except any extra money aaron tries to give him.

spencer sees himself in jack. he wants this kid to have the life he never had. he wants jack to have friends and enjoy school. he wants to make his lessons a place where jack can express himself and be proud of his intellect. not afraid of answering too many questions like spencer was at his age. he wants to be this kid’s role model because he never had one.

he wants to date jack’s father

aaron insists spencer come over for dinner once a month as a thank you. for awhile that’s all it is. spencer tells him about jack’s progress, aaron shares his gratitude for spencer’s kindness.

then after a few months, when dinner is finished and jack is in bed, spencer will stay for a glass of wine and they’ll talk about aaron’s life before he came here. spencer will talk about his childhood.

they run into each other at the (only) coffee shop and then that too becomes part of their routine.

the wives club starts to gossip about mister hotchner and doctor spencer. one wife tells her husband, their kid overhears, the kid is friends with jack, jack tells his dad. “daddy you never told me you and spencer were dating.”

aaron is absolutely mortified because who told him that!? how did jack find out his father is falling in love with his tutor. he tries to explain to jack that him and spencer are just friends but jack already told spencer.

at the next dinner, after jack is gone to bed and they’re on the couch with a glass of red each, spencer brings it up first. “the town thinks we’re together.”

“yes, jack told me last week.”

“we should do something about that rumour.”

“like tell them it’s not true?”

spencer moves closer towards aaron. “or tell them it is.” they kiss for half an hour and then spencer decides it’s time to call it a night.

the next time they’re out for coffee, aaron takes spencer’s hand in his and they walk down the town past all the staring women.

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mgg-theprettiestboy · 4 years ago

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cross my heart (pt. 2)

spencer reid x oc

cross my heart masterlist

word count: 2118

It was a week later that Spencer bumped into her again.

He had just gotten back from a four day case in New Mexico, and had hardly slept during the case, so he slept on the flight home. And when they landed at night, he was fully awake, despite it being 10pm. So, after hours of restlessness, he decided to go to his favourite little corner of the world.

This time, there was no chaos. There was no yelling, or cursing, or collapsing of books. There was the faint sound of music, and an overwhelming smell of coffee, and that ‘new book smell’, despite the fact that most of the books were in fact, rather old.

And the sight of Raye sitting cross legged on one of the sofas, reading. It wasn’t a Narnia book this time, but she looked just as invested in it.

“Reid, hey,” Tamara said, her voice strained. He dragged his eyes over to her, moving closer to the counter. It was only then that he saw her eyes were red and puffy, and she wasn’t making direct contact. He didn’t want to pry or overstep, but he was tired and he usually didn’t have a filter anyways, and concern drove his actions, “hey, are you okay?”

Tamara huffed a laugh, her eyes darting to Raye, before back to the doctor, “had a fight with my girlfriend. It happens, don’t worry. What can I get for you?”

It didn’t take a profiler to tell that she didn’t want to talk about it, so Spencer just ordered a coffee. Whilst she made it, he wandered over to the bookshelf to pick out a book. He had read them all already, but would happily reread them again. Tamara kept the book collection flawless, it was mostly classic literature, and older books, all of which Spencer would read. He didn’t think he would like there it as much, if it was all bad sci-fi and cheesy romances.

He glanced back to Raye, trying to sneak a peak at the title of her book. He was surprised to see her looking at him. They both looked away bashfully, Spencer trying to fumble with a book to make himself look busy, as Raye buried her face in her book, literally this time.

She thought he was kinda cute, obviously. Who didn’t? He had the kind of hair she wanted to rake her hands through, and these puppy dog eyes. Not to mention the fact that he was heads taller than her. He was wearing a purple dress shirt and tie, but last time she saw him, he had a cardigan on. And she couldn't help but notice the converse on his feet. That made her smile.

Plus, he had this wholesome vibe. He was always nothing but polite, and had such a kind face. Raye could bet he was a momma’s boy.

“Do you have any recommendations?” His voice broke her out of her trance, her eyes meeting his, “huh?”

“I trust your taste. Is that Austen?” Spencer said, tipping his head at the book she held, “between C. S. Lewis and Jane Austen, I think your opinions on books are solid, from my observations so far. So, do you have any recommendations?” As previous mentioned, Spencer had read all the books before. He didn't know why he was asking her. Actually, yes he did, he was just to embarrassed to admit it to himself.

“Have you ever read any Arthur Conan Doyle? Sherlock is one of my favourite characters to exist, like, ever. Movies and shows don't do him justice,” Raye said with a soft smile, her hand trailing up and down the spine go her book, as if it were a cat or something else comforting, “I think there’s a copy of The Hounds Of Baskerville on the shelf.”

Spencer didn’t even know he was smiling, until he realised it was border-lining a grin. He turned back to the shelf, scouring over the titles to find the one he suggested. All the while, Raye was trying to stomp at the butterflies in her stomach. She would squish them with her bare hands if she had to.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” he said once he found the book, turning to her, “I’ll be sure to give you my thoughts once I’m done.”

“Please, do. But if they're anything but positive, then I don't think we’ll be good friends,” she said with a smile. Spencer returned it, nodding at her before going to read a book that he had read 65 times already. But who was counting?

They continued doing this for weeks to come. If Spencer came back to the cafe at a ridiculous hour, she would be there. 96.4% of visits resulted in him seeing her. And he would give his thoughts on a book she had recommended, or vice versa, as he would begin to recommend books to her as well.

They would never share a table, though. Never have a full, proper conversation. Spencer couldn’t figure out if he was being a chicken, or if he was picking up the right signals; that Raye didn't want to talk to him. She would always indulge his thoughts on literature, but as soon as the conversation would steer elsewhere, she would shy away. She wouldn't even look at him. Maybe she was shy? Nervous? Spencer understood that more than anyone. Still, he was nothing if not a gentleman, and never pushed any further.

But he figured that if he didn't push, he would never get anywhere with her. And did he want to get somewhere? He didn't know. But part of him was curious, part of him wanted to know more about her, more than just what she thought about writings. Was that odd? The last time he felt like this was with... was with Maeve. But this felt different.

And he wanted to know more about her.

It had been three days since he saw her, and he was already getting antsy. It was a paperwork day for him, so he had no excuse to be awake, other than he was restless at the thought of her, alone, sitting in the cafe, completely absorbed in a good book, and content with a hot chocolate.

And his imagination was nothing if not accurate. She was reading Bronte this time, and an empty hot chocolate sat on the table beside her. She didn't seem as stressed, like she was last week, when reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. She seemed relaxed, and completely and utterly satisfied. A good book can work wonders, Spencer thought.

Tamara wasn't working, which made this a little easier for him. One less set of watching eyes. Spencer ordered a cappuccino and hot chocolate, trying to steady his shaky hands as he brought the cups to her table. He couldn't even think of what to say, so he just simply sat the hot chocolate on her table.

“I didn't order-? Oh, Spencer, hello,” Raye relaxed at seeing him, before her brows furrowed in confusion, “what's this?”

“An apology hot chocolate, for my most recent recommendation. I know you didn't enjoy Frankenstein that much, I watched you as you read it,” he said, and she sighed, “was it that obvious?” “It was, yeah. Not a fan of the genre, I get it,” he said with a laugh, making her smile, “well, thank you. I owe you a coffee then.”

“No, don't be ridiculous, you don’t owe me anything. Except maybe another recommendation,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice making her smile, “uh. okay. I think I can do that. The Da Vinci Code.”

He gave her a deadpanned look, making her throw her head back and laugh, “c’mon, we agreed to read whatever the other one suggested, regardless.”

“I saw the movie. Seriously?” He grimaced, and she giggled. He was quick to stop grimacing.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, really. Besides, the only make a movie if the book is popular. And books are popular, ‘cause they’re good,” she retorted. He nodded slowly in thought, “you pose a good point... fine. I’ll read it.”

Raye grinned in victory, before sitting up to rummage through her bag, “believe it or not, Tam doesn't actually have a copy of it in the shop, so I brought my copy from home. And whenever you're finished with it, just throw it on a shelf in here. Someone else can enjoy it, or I’ll find it again.”

Spencer took the book she handed him, smiling softly at seeing the worn edges and turned corners, “I’ll make sure to get it home safely, don't worry.”

There was a beat of silence, and before she could say anything, he spoke, “is it okay if I sit here?” “With me?” She asked, as if she was unsure of what he was asking. He replied, “with you.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip, but was quick to nod. Baby steps, Spencer thought. He sat down, sitting his cappuccino and newest read on the table, before smiling at seeing the book she held, “Vilette, huh?”

She smiled, holding the book close to her chest, “I’m a sucker for a good romance novel. Have you read it?”

“Years ago. I’ve already expressed my distaste for the romantics, but that is a classic,” he said, lifting his coffee to take a drink, “did you know that Charlotte Bronte’s first book was rejected by every publisher in England? They didn't approve of women authors. when she wrote to the poet Robert Southey, he replied saying that ‘literature cannot be the business of a woman’s life, and it ought not to be’.”

“Sexism’s a bitch,” Raye said with a sigh, resting her head in her hand as she looked Spencer over once, “how do you know so much? Every time you talk, its like you’ve memorised a million facts to support your own argument.”

He squirmed slightly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck, “I, uh, I have an eidetic memory.”

“Whats that?” Raye asked. And for once, Spencer didn't hear any sort of confusion or disinterest in the question. She was curious.

Spencer stuttered, before he began to explain, “eidetic memory is a memory that retains everything you read. So everything I read, I remember. And I read a lot.”

“I watched you read one day, and I couldn't believe it. You finished a novel in like four minutes. That’s insane,” she said, and he blushed slightly, “I can read just over 20,000 words a minute.”

“Holy shit. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted! You–you can just binge read books in seconds, and then never forget them! You can memorise every amazing detail,” she exclaimed excitedly, before slumping back in her seat, “man, I’m jealous of you.”

He chuckled, “it does have its advantages, I’ll admit.”

She tilted her head, and Reid couldn’t help but compare her to a confused puppy in that moment, “are there disadvantages?”

He shrugged slightly, breaking eye contact to look at his hands, “sometimes I begin to ramble, because I just... I know a lot about something, and then I get excited because I think that people are like me, that they want to learn more about the world. They usually don’t. And then I feel so–“

“Then they’re assholes,” Raye interupted, and Spencer looked back to her. There was a slight redness to her cheeks now, “if someone shoots you down while you’re talking about something you’re passionate about, then they’re an asshole.”

He smiled softly, glancing down to his book bashfully, “thats nice of you to say.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I don't like bullies,” she said firmly, “and I think you're cool. And I think the things you know are cool too.”

He laughed softly, smiling down at his book. He felt all warm at her words, but was still to embarrassed to look back up at him.

“I like peonies,” Raye said randomly, before shaking her head as she realised how strange that sounded, “do you know any facts about peonies?”

Spencer looked up to her, before nodding slowly, “peonies represent wealth and honour. They’re the flower you traditionally receive on your twelfth wedding anniversary, did you know they’re native to...”

Spencer rambled on about peonies for another ten minutes, and talked about more and more flowers for the rest of the night. Raye clung onto his every word, smiling and nodding enthusiastically, responding when she could. And it was genuine. Spencer knew when someone was feigning interest, but not her. And for a brief moment, he let himself hope, that maybe, just maybe, she might want to know more about him too.

NEXT CHAPTER

yes, raye brought the book with her to the cafe, in the hopes that she would run into spencer and give it to him :)

taglist: @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @fallinallinmendes @beyonces-breastmilk @spencerlikesapplejuice @pastathighs @gcblers @hushfakebitches @ijustcomeheretoread @thelovelyrose @leam-2001 @madison-malfoy @averyhotchner @haylaansmi

#mgg #spencer reid #mgg angst #mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg blurb #mgg fic #mgg gifs #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader #mgg gif #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fluff #angst #throne of glass series

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shipskicksandgiggles · 4 years ago

Note

for your fic ideas, I genuinely cannot decide between 3, 6 & 10 (they're all so good!) but if you do write something for any one of them, I'd love to read it.

okay so I wrote short thing for all of them, but they also come with little explanations because at least one of them needs context. I cut after 3′s explanation but all of them have blurbs (honestly 6 and 10 could be considered short fics ngl), but yeah. enjoy!

3. “Listen I know this is a Christian place but you cannot tell me something about this feels like witchcraft” in which Peter, MJ, and Ned go to Rose Hill for something with Harley

now I’m from a city. not a big one but big enough that moving to a small town was really fucking weird for me, and while I know this place has a lot of roots in christianity, something about it feels unholy in ways I cannot express. I like to think that Rose Hill has the same vibe

So the history of Rose Hill, Tennessee, like all other tiny Bible Belt towns, begins with a church. It's not big, but its congregation is consistent, and Harley could have told you every little thing about the pipe organ and the stained glass windows.

When his Midtown friends agreed to come down for spring break, he was already planning out an entire tour of the town.

MJ shouldered her bag as she got out of the car and walked closer to the church he’d told them about as they got closer. She stopped a few feet from the bottom of the stairs and spun to take in a 360° view of the main street.

It was mostly filled with quaint old houses and homey shops, but it was a cute place in Harley’s opinion. It was home.

After another minute, she turned back to face the boys.

“Harley, don’t take this the wrong way since I know you said this town has roots in Christianity and all that, but you cannot convince me there’s not some sort of witchcraft involved here.”

Ned let out a huff. “Thank god someone else noticed. I was about to say that, but I didn’t want to sound crazy.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that if I’m honest,” Harley confessed.

“Hon, I’m sure it’s nothing. We’re just not used to small towns. The energy is-” Peter waved his hand “-different, I guess. C’mon, let's just keep going. It’s nothing,” Peter repeated.

He frowned, but he shrugged it off. Maybe the friendly cats around the coffee shop would warm them to Rose Hill a little more.

6. Scott Lang and Peter Parker meet John Walker, and in true character roast the ever living shit out of him while Tony cheers them on in proud dad

this definitely isn’t original but I think it’s hilarious and the concept is killing me so here you go. also hi nat and tony are alive because fuck you I said so. endgame was a stupid movie and the only part of the ending I consider canon is steve giving up the shield. let me know if I should post this on ao3 since it’s a bit longer

Sam made fun of him for his staring problem, but it came in handy when he didn’t react to the quiet thud that landed on the truck. Bucky knew exactly who it was and why he was there.

The bastard sitting across from him did not have the same information, and the look on John Walker’s face had Sam suppressing a smile by the looks of it.

Sure enough, a familiar red mask appeared upside down in the window, and Sam let out a laugh when Walker shrieked. Hell, even Bucky smiled.

“What the hell is that thing?” he demanded.

“C’mon Spider-Baby, get in the damn truck.”

The kid climbed his way in through the back window and landed in a crouch before pulling off his mask and taking his seat between Sam and Bucky. “Sorry I’m late, you know how it is. And I’m not a baby, Captain Wilson. That’s rude.”

Walker cleared his throat. “He’s technically not a captain.”

Peter seemed to just notice the new guy. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Captain America, who the hell are you?”

“Uh, no offense big guy, but unless I missed a really important email, he’s Captain America.” He nodded towards Sam. “I’m your guy’s backup.”

“You look like you’re 12.”

“Okay, is someone gonna tell me who this asshole is, or am I going to have to web his mouth shut for the rest of this trip?”

Bucky snickered. “Peter Parker, meet John Walker. John, play nice. I know he looks small, but he could beat me in a fight, super soldier or not.”

“Why do I know that name?” Peter wondered aloud. “Wait, you’re the PR experiment right? Like the one the government is trying to make work because they’re made Captain Rogers appointed a man of color to be his successor? Oh Scott’s gonna love this, hold on.” He tapped out a code on his wrist, and something akin to a phone screen appeared. “Cass? Cass!”

Cassie Lang’s face popped into the camera. “Peter? Dude, I thought you were on a mission.”

“No, no, I am. Hey, is your dad around?”

“Uh, yeah I think your dad’s lab, hold on.” She disappeared and her audio cut out, presumably as she went to find him.

Not even a minute later, she came back into view with Scott by her side. “Okay, what’s up?”

“So I’m with Captain America right?” He flipped the camera to show John.

“That’s not Cap,” Scott snorted. “Wait, is this the guy they put on the news in a Cap cosplay a couple months ago?”

“Yeah. He’s kinda awful.”

Walker squawked, but Peter shushed him. “So the man with the giant metal frisbee really thinks he’s Cap like Captain Wilson isn’t right here, yeah?”

“He looks like a Renaissance painter tried to paint Steve from memory, so he’s definitely not America’s Ass.”

They heard a loud wheeze in the background. “Was that Tony?” Sam asked.

“Sam? Hey man! Yeah it was Tony.”

“Put him on then,” Bucky said.

“Hey Mr. Stark!”

“Hey you crazy kids. Walker, I didn’t appreciate you complimenting me on the news, I’m much more than my brains you know. Kinda saved your whole reality and all, but sure. Anyways, as Iron Man I’m obligated by my strenuous relationship with your mantel to tell you that you’re not all that and everything special about you came out of the United States government, which as we know is consistently racist, homophobic, sexist, and overall awful so I don’t trust you around my team or my kid. Stay in your lane and don’t get cocky. That shield isn’t yours and it’ll never be, so don’t give us a reason to take it from you, cool? Cool. To the rest of you, be safe on your mission and I’m sure Nat and Clint will have dinner warmed up when you get back.”

The call ended, and Walker’s flushed looked severely unhealthy. “How dare you-”

Peter waved him off and started talking to Bucky instead, choosing to trace over the lines of his metal arm. “Hey, Shuri said she sent Tony the parts to fix the rotator in your wrist. Did he get them installed last time you were home?”

Despite the way they first met, Bucky was fairly comfortable with Peter handing his arm. “Yeah he did. Might need a tune up though.”

He nodded. Then he spoke to Sam. “Nat misses you. She can’t wait until you’re back home so she can kick your ass in Monopoly.”

“As if,” Sam scoffed.

Walker looked thoroughly constipated just watching their dynamic, and Peter definitely noticed. “You’re not an Avenger, John Smith. We don’t care if you have the shield or not, you’re still an imposter, and quite frankly Captain Rogers would be ashamed of you.”

Bucky wanted the face Walker made framed in his front room just so everyone else could see the man exalted by the US government dressed down by a teenager in a bug costume.

“Hey how much longer till we get there?” Peter asked.

“Torres?” Sam called.

“Couple hours give or take,” Torres responded. “We might hit a little traffic on the outskirts of the bigger city between now and the target.”

“Cool. Are you guys good if I nap for a bit?”

Bucky cocked his head at him. “Have you not been sleeping again?”

“Not on purpose! I’ve got a lot of homework, man. That Reintegration to Society class my school is making all the blipped kids take is kicking my ass.”

“Fine. Half hour nap. We’ll wake you.”

“M’kay.” Peter leaned his head on Bucky’s shoulder and laid his legs across Sam’s. The kid was out like a light before they could glare Walker into submission.

One thing was for certain: this would be the easiest mission they’d had in a while.

10. Nick Fury’s collection of lesbian daughters + Clint Barton and Tony Stark that he has no idea how they got there but he secretly wanted kids so this is fine

literally this man has adopted every lesbian he has met in the MCU so far. I want him to meet Valkyrie so bad it’s not even funny. Clint and Tony kind of just Happened but he’s okay with it.

“What will your kids call you?”

“Fury.”

She called him Nick. Carol that is. So did her friend Maria. He wasn’t so sure if they were a couple or not, but he didn’t want to assume.

That’s not the point. Fury didn’t want to have kids. Wasn’t the type to settle down and marry a nice girl, so he never put much thought other than ‘no’ into it when people asked.

But goddamn it, he was going to manage this lesbian space person and her wife to the best of his abilities, so sure, he was a parent.

Two kids were enough though.

Clint Barton was strange. Fury had no idea who he was or what he had done with his life, and considering his whole life was intelligence, he didn’t know what to make of it.

Still, the guy was a human disaster area, and Fury begrudgingly took on a third child.

The third child obviously brought in the fourth one. An angry red head he was pretty sure Barton was supposed to kill. That didn’t matter when Nick sat down outside her cell and asked why she didn’t just kill him instead.

“He’s not like the others,” she said.

“How would you like to become like him?” he asked.

He wasn’t expecting a fifth. Maria was calm, down to earth, and he trusted her. She was the do no harm, take no shit type of woman that he liked working with. She still needed someone to keep her nerves from fraying once in a while.

That and he was wholly unprepared for the only side of her that she had no idea how to hide. Why every girl he adopts likes other women he will have no idea.

Natasha had to drag Tony Stark in by the ear, and Nick couldn’t say he was exactly impressed.

“Dying isn’t an option.”

“Well I’m out of options, Nick.”

Nick Fury swore the children he didn’t plan on having would never call him anything other than Fury. Now he has a granddaughter and he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

Carol called him old when he told her, and Maria rolled her eyes. Clint just grinned before he tripped over his own feet. Natasha caught the plate he almost dropped before handing it back to him. Hill made fun of him, but that was okay. He could take it. Tony had taken after him a little too well, and was managing his own group of pseudo-children somewhere in New York, but he promised to FaceTime them over dinner.

“What will your kids call you?” she’d asked.

He reflected back on that moment now, almost 30 years later. Nick. They’ll call me Nick.

#asks #answers #palindrome-k #fanfic #marvel fanfic #ellis writes

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jungwooisms · 4 years ago

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could you maybe ship your moots with nct? 🥰

bet

@suhdude (amanda!) - i bet you know who it’s gonna be mark lee just kidding it’s mr. suh.

while, yes, there is bias in putting you with him because you’re a simp like him i can see it. johnny’s a big dude with a big heart that’s super obvious if you see him hanging out with any of his members; a lot more so with the younger ones but he’s unequivocally happy that he just radiates it to those around him. i think that you’d get along well with him, that positivity is just enrapturing and it’d compliment your personality well imo.

also coffee shop dates while he gushes abt new cameras i’m s*ft for you.

@du0tine (solange!) - doyoung!

i debated on several members that’d vibe well with you but i lowkey think that doyoung would fit very well? he’s quiet but when he has something to say he doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind and that reminds me of you (in a good way). both of you aren’t afraid to say what’s needed and i think that’s sexc of you.

@lucas-wongs (taryn!) - lucas!

i strongly believe that you can make up for the braincells that he’s lost over the course of being in the wayv dorm,,, but fr though he seems like he’d always be super loud, energetic and fun to be with. never a dull moment but i can totally see him just wanting to relax and watch a movie & relax at the end of the day and just cuddle on the couch to unwind,,, whew

@badwithten (zoe!) - hendery!

it’s the energy. hendery can be a weird mfer at times but god if he isn’t a fun person to be around. i’m not calling you weird btw just saying that being around hendery would never be boing and he’d want to do all sorts of activities together and take pictures to save the memory and i’m just-- yeah it’d be cute asf

@d-nghy-ck (bronwyn!) - haechan!!!!!

alas, i (again) am falling into the pit of going with the member associated with the url. but your anabashed admiration of haechan would make me feel guilty giving you anyone else (except for renjun but we won’t talk abt that rn). you both are so passionate about your work and what you believe in i think that’d just be an instant connection. haechan’s such a nice and caring person that i think it’d just be an unbelievebly sweet relationship.

@insomni-writing (somni!) - renjun!

big brain goes with another big brain, it’s just facts. but the absolute the power the both of you’d have together is absolutely mind-blowing. i can’t truly put it into words because i cannot find them, but gosh it’d be immaculate.

also welcome back bby i hope you’re doing well ❤️

@jenojam (v!) - taeyong!!!

idk why man i just feel like you deserve something soft and if anyone can do it it’s defo taeyong. you’re both super creative and express it so well that i’m absolutely flaggergasted. PLUS he’s apparently a great chef and ??? he has a lil aquarium where he likes to watch his little dudes chilling in the tank?? wholesome

@neonun-au (mads!) - yuta!!

i don’t have a full on explanation for this but the vibes are just... there? yuta’s got a fun and laid back personality 90% of the time but the other is when he goes off the wall and who really wouldn't want a little fun feral yuta time? but really he’s super nice and protective & affectionate,, truly a top tier dude.

#if i didn't add you i'm sorry i suck at talking to people and have brain rot #that being said!!!!!! lmk if you want to talk!!!!#also i didn't do 23 members because my brain is v small #LETTERS FROM:#anon

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stillchaoticlogic · 5 years ago

Text

Stumbling: Chapter 1

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn't gone exactly as you planned...

Which is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can't refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spot light and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren't always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Unexpected Visitors

You gaze out into the rainy afternoon, your eyes are only half open as you fight back a yawn. It ends up winning anyway and you shake your head to clear it of the drowsiness that has encompassed you. You heave a sigh as you pull yourself from the counter only to gaze around the empty and immaculate cafe. You can only wipe a counter so many times before you essentially give up on life itself.

With a rattle, the door opens allowing a gust of chilly wind to follow the man that rushes into the cafe. A chill runs up your spine destroying the cosy atmosphere that had once surrounded you. A soft scowl mars your features as you recognize the male standing in the doorway before he even has a chance to turn around. The cape, cascading with logos, is a dead giveaway that “The Unbeatable Champion” is standing in the door and you do not want to deal with him.

You watch in slight annoyance as he turns around and flashes you a dazzling smile. You are quite sure many a female has fallen to their knees upon being graced with that smile, and yet you could care less. You decided long ago that if you ever saw Leon again it would be too soon.

Are you being petty?

Probably.

And yet you cannot be bothered to care.

“Sorry about the entrance! I’m a little lost and I wasn’t expecting such a bad storm!” He rubs the back of his neck with a bright smile and shameless laugh.

“It’s fine… Where are you trying to go?” you ask pointedly, attempting to keep the snark out of your voice; you may or may not have succeeded.

“I was trying to get to Blottsberg to meet up with a friend there!”

“You…” you pause unsure how to tell him it’s in the opposite direction, “went the wrong way… It’s on the other side of Bleary.”

He winces before he sends you another dashing smile.

“Right! Well, I’ll head that way when the storm clears!”

You blink a few times at the blinding smile before you and just shrug your shoulders, “Suit yourself.”

He walks over to the counter and you cringe internally as water drips from his cape and onto the floor. You feel a bad mood creep up on you as you look up at the tall man before you.

You watch for a moment in annoyed silence as he studies the menu. After far too long at gazing at the menu, he sends you a sheepish and yet dazzling smile.

“I’m sorry… I’m not sure what to get…” he adjusts the cap on his head and you roll your eyes before out turn dutifully to the espresso machine. You hold up a hand to silence the male and you’re almost amused at the kicked puppy expression that adorns his features.

After a few moments, you hand him the drink and shoo him from your counter, “Go sit over there while I clean up.”

Wordlessly he nods and walks to where you indicated, taking a seat in the chair. A moment later, you hear a content sigh and you chance a glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you struggle with the mop and bucket. He looks almost peaceful as he gazes out the window. The cup of hot chocolate in his hand used as a makeshift warmer.

“How did you know I don’t like coffee?” the question breaks the quiet atmosphere and you look up at him.

You fix him with an unreadable expression before you shrug, “You don’t seem like the coffee type.”

“You put spices in it to make it spicy, how did you know that’s how I like my drink?”

It’s almost accusatory.

Once again you just shrug at him before you go back to cleaning up the mess, casually you drag the mop across the floor to seep up the wetness.

You hear a sigh, “That’s not an answer (Name).”

You let out a humorless laugh, “Ah… so The Unbeatable Champion still remembers a peasant such as myself? How… kind.”

You voice is dripping with derision and you don’t miss the frown on his face or the way his eyes harden.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing… That was mean of me… I’m sorry its just been a long day.”

You hear him huff before you hear the scraping of a chair.

“What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be some great trainer or professor? Why aren’t you running a gym or tearing up the league?” He says this as he plucks the mop from your hands and completes the job himself. A look of annoyed confusion maring his face as he concentrates on the task at hand. It looks wrong on a face that you are so used to seeing happy.

You take a step back, lean back against the counter and cross your arms over your chest, “No one wanted to sponsor me for the league and I didn’t have the money for college to do research.”

“What do you mean no one wanted to sponsor you?! You were one of the best in our class! You were the only one who gave me a run for my money! Do you know how confused I was to not see you in the finals that year? Or the year after? I spent years thinking I would see you as the finalist. Instead you just gave up?!”

“Don’t you lecture me Leon! You had sponsors begging to endorse you for the league! You know what they told me? That I wasn’t pretty enough. That I wasn’t cute enough. That I wasn’t sexy enough. That I didn’t have the right look. That I don’t have the right vibe. That I am too smart. Male fans don’t like smart trainers, they like pretty ones! And without connections you’re fucked if you can’t get a sponsor. I was fourteen and the world told me I wasn’t good enough and they destroyed my dream, Leon.”

You gaze up at the ceiling and blink hard attempting to get rid of the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. It’s been ten years and the feelings of rejection still stings like the day they happened.

“That’s bullshit…” You look into angry eyes.

You feel your own harden in defense, “That’s the truth!”

“No! No… that’s not what I meant… What I mean is you’re an amazing trainer… You should be one of the most acclaimed trainers in all of Galar right now… You were my first rival after all.”

You roll eyes as an almost fond smile breaks through the feelings you have long since buried.

“You should be grateful… you wouldn’t be the “Unbeatable Champion” if I had been sponsored.”

“That’s pretty big words for a barista.”

You fix him with a look before you snatch the mop from his hands, “Whatever.”

Walking into the back room you dump the bucket and mop in a corner and head back out to the front. Leon is gazing intently at the pastries in the case but look up when you walk back out. He flashes you smile and point to the brownie. You roll your eyes and walk over to the case before you grab the paper and pull a brownie out. A moment later, there is a pop and standing before you is Charizard.

“Hey bud…” You murmur with a soft smile, “How are you doing?”

Charizard lets out a purr and ducks his head long enough for you pet him. Nuzzling your cheek before he backs away and awaits his treat patiently.

“Ah… I see you’ve grown some patience…”

He just huffs, smoke blowing out of his nostrils.

You smile and shake your head before you hand the treat to the overgrown lizard and watch in amusement as he eats it all in one bite and then pouts that it’s all gone.

“I’m going to sponsor you.”

“What?”

‘You heard me… I’m going to sponsor you.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to be in the league. You’re one of the best at battling I’ve ever seen-”

“Umm… you haven’t even watched me battle since we were fourteen…”

“If you were that good at fourteen just think of how good you are now!”

“Leon… I have a life… I can’t just pick it up and go on an adventure. I have responsibilities!”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not a reason, it’s an excuse.”

You just gape at him as your words from years before come back to haunt you, “Damn… I was an annoying kid…”

“You were kinda badass too so it made up for it,” he says as he sends you a wink.

“Did you just wink at me? What is going on?”

Leon rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, you just take a step back, happy the counter is separating the two of you.

“Look,” he says with a sigh, “I want to endorse you for the upcoming league, and I have the confidence that the top student in our class will crush everyone and meet me for a Champion battle.”

“Please stop using ‘champion’ like it’s an adjective.”

He fixes you with a blank look, “Just… think about it… you don’t have to give me an answer now.”

“I’ve already thought about it… It’s just not who I am anymore.”

“Well if you change your mind…” he pulls a napkin from the dispenser and a marker from his pocket and you watch in annoyed awe as he scribbles his number onto it and and leaves it for you on the counter.

“I won’t.”

“Sure… Well I have to go! It’s been a champion time catching up with you and I hope you’ll consider my offer! However, Raihan is waiting for me!”

You roll your eyes as The Unbeatable Champion walks out the door, the personality you’ve seen countless times on the news and league television snapping into place. You gaze down at the napkin on the table before you grab it and go to throw it into the trash. Just as you’re about to let go you stuff your fist into your apron pocket and let out a sigh of annoyance.

“He’s still cute…” you grumble to yourself as you glance out the window and watch him fade from sight.

The rest of your shift goes by in a blur and before you know it you are on your way home. The sound of Pokemon in the distance being the only thing that disrupt your nightly walk home. You can feel the napkin wadded up in your hoodie pocket and you glare ahead of you. Once in your tiny apartment you throw the abused napkin on the table before you stripe yourself of your uniform the scent of coffee, bleach and spoiled milk assaulting your senses as you do so. Ignoring your coffee table you walk into your kitchen and heat up a frozen meal to eat before you walk over to your couch and plop down on it flicking on your TV. Instantly, the screen is flooded with the news of the upcoming league tournament along with highlights from last year’s tournament. You quickly change the channel, this one showing the battle between Leon and Raihan from the last tournament. You change the channel again, and it’s an interview with Leon. Another channel is interviewing Chairman Rose about the upcoming League. You heave a sigh of defeat and turn the TV off.

“This is ridiculous…” you groan to yourself before your Hatenna, Serenity, runs across the floor.

Glancing down you feel a wave of shame come over you, knowing that every time you dwell on old memories and grieve the life you thought you were going to have you hurt her.

“I’m sorry...I’m trying to do better… some days it’s just harder than others…”

She chirps sorrowfully at you before she hops up onto the couch beside you and nuzzle into your side. After a few moments of wallowing you pick up the empty container and wad the napkin up before you drop it into the mess left behind.

“You know better than to dream…” you mutter to yourself before you throw it and the container away.

*~**~**~**~*

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Let me know if you would like to be tagged for the next chapter! Also, tell me what you think your next pokemon should be! This is going to be fun!

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon imagines #champion leon #leon x reader #raihan x reader #Leon x Reader X Raihan #pokemon leon #pokemon raihan #pokemon leon x reader #pokemon raihan x reader

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glassworkspiderlilies · 5 years ago

Text

got me good vibes thank god i ain’t driving

Fire Emblem Three Houses | Dimitri/f!Byleth | AO3 Summary: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd goes grocery shopping at 3:30AM and meets an enigmatic girl in the dairy aisle. It goes from there. (Or, something-of-a-college-cryptid Byleth comes and goes as she pleases and befriends the Blaiddyd heir. Or he befriends her. In any case, it's an interesting semester.) Notes: Stress relief fic of no real discernible plot; best described with “head empty, just typing”. I’m serious, please do not think too hard while reading, I got nothing LOL. On the other hand, I had a lot of fun. Approximately (and absurdly) 10k words; more notes on AO3.

“Hey, Dimitri. One of those nights, huh?”

“Yes. Want a Mad Bull?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It’s 3:30AM, and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is grocery shopping. The cashier on graveyard shift is well-acquainted with him now, at least on a surface level, as one becomes when you’re (usually) the only two people in the store at an ungodly hour. Dimitri buys him energy drinks sometimes. The cashier slips him extra coupons if he’s got them.

A combination of insomnia and nightmares keeps Dimitri up a lot, and while he can mostly regulate the insomnia, some nights are just particularly bad. Alternatively, if he is asleep but wakes up at any point, it’s too difficult for him to fall asleep again, so he may as well get up.

It’s not the worst, since he’s used to it by now, and at university. There are things enough that he can do during these witching hours, grocery shopping at the 24-hour supermarket being one of them.

On the rare occasion there are other people in and out of the place, but Dimitri only sees them from a distance as they go about their own shopping. At this time, everyone’s minding their own business for one reason or another.

That’s why it’s a surprise when he turns into the dairy aisle to see a young woman standing in front of the cheeses. She’s wearing a soft gray hoodie with pink striping on the cuffs and hem, her hands in her pockets and the hood covering her hair, dark jeans, and knee-high boots. Despite the more casual style, it strikes Dimitri as somehow a little dressy, though Sylvain would snort and say he’d be one to talk. (Dimitri can’t help it. It’s how he was raised; he feels most comfortable in button-downs and crisp jackets. His most casual is a neat sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, like now. And anyway, Sylvain seemed to have fun enough choosing things to add to Dimitri’s wardrobe. At this point, all of Dimitri’s friends borrowed his clothes if they fit—even Felix, who always did so without asking, and sometimes Dimitri never even knew.)

The girl doesn’t even turn despite the sound of Dimitri’s cart, and he thinks that he’ll wait politely for her to finish her selection before making his, pretending to look at the nearest shelf. But she stands there for a few minutes too long without moving, and so after some deliberation and hesitation, Dimitri decides to approach. It’s his last aisle, and he more or less knows what he wants, so he’ll be quick and out of here.

She doesn’t move even as he comes to stand next to her, and he murmurs “excuse me” as he looms a little over her to reach for a block of Gautier cheese. An unfortunate yet unavoidable action based on positioning, because she is spectacularly dead center of the things he wants, and she still doesn’t move despite the proximity.

Dimitri glances at her, wondering if she’s okay. Her expression is totally blank; she’s either zoning out or focusing extremely hard.

Well. It’s pretty late—or early—after all.

He reaches for a second block and puts the two into his cart, stepping away from the girl to turn his attention to the yogurts that he gets for Sylvain on the next section over. He takes two of the mixed berry ones first before debating over the others.

“Plain or spicy?”

It takes him a minute to register the voice and the words, soft and pleasantly mid-tone.

Dimitri turns to find the girl looking at him, and he thinks oh, she’s really pretty, now that he’s seen her in full view, before actually connecting the dots that she’s the one who had spoken.

“Um, spicy?” he offers, and the girl seems to think for a moment before she nods decisively.

He watches as she reaches for two blocks of artisan cheese, flecks of herbs and spices visible through the packaging—not one he’s tried before, or honestly remembered seeing here—and turns to plop them squarely in his hands, balancing them perfectly on top of the yogurt containers.

She then walks away, putting her hands back in her pockets.

“Uh?” Dimitri says belatedly, looking between the girl’s retreating figure and the cheese.

Am I supposed to buy these for her? He wonders, as he puts everything in his hands in his cart. He grabs a six-pack variety of yogurt before rushing after her, but she’s gone by the time he makes it to the registers.

“All set?” the cashier yawns, and Dimitri blinks at him.

“Wasn’t there a girl just now? In a gray hoodie?” Dimitri asks, laying down his purchases.

“Hm? Oh yeah, she walked out without buying anything,” the cashier says, starting to scan the items, “People just come in here to kill time sometimes.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, looking towards the doors.

He completes his transaction, leaving the Mad Bull for the cashier, who waves his hand gratefully, and makes his way back to his car. The girl is still nowhere in sight; Dimitri realizes he wishes that she were.

He loads his groceries into his trunk and drives back to the dorms.

By the time he finishes finding space in the fridge for everything, it’s a little past 4AM. In about an hour and a half, Ingrid will be up for her morning run, and she always welcomes company. Dimitri shoots her a text for when she wakes up; he’ll pick up coffee and pastries for them too.

For now, he might as well work on his upcoming paper a little more.

“So, what’s with the special cheese in the fridge?” Sylvain asks later that day, when their childhood quartet all meet up for lunch.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, remembering. “That. Um…there was a girl in the supermarket who just kind of…had me buy them?”

Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid blink at him.

“What do you mean, ‘had you buy them’?” Felix says.

Dimitri recounts the whole experience.

“And you bought them,” Felix says, with his brows furrowed, his eyes and tone clearly conveying what the hell, that was so stupid.

Dimitri just shrugs.

“We should eat it later,” Ingrid says, biting into her burger, and Sylvain laughs.

“Yeah, leave it to Ingrid,” he says. “But we should. To commemorate Dimitri’s weird 3AM experience.”

Sylvain makes a big deal of it when they do eat the cheese later, when their classes have ended for the day and they’re back in their suite. He puts the crackers on a plate and tries to cut the cheese into fancy shapes, which only Dimitri actually appreciates.

“Oooh, spicy,” Ingrid says, as she pops a cube into her mouth. “Hey, this is really good!”

Felix says nothing, but reaches for more. Sylvain laments about the lack of appreciation for his artistic attempts, but also agrees that the cheese is great when he finally eats a piece himself.

Dimitri, as always, cannot really taste the flavor, but he likes both the scent and the texture, at least.

“So Dimitri finally meets a girl, we get a brand new cheese, what else is next?” Sylvain says, leaning back on the sofa.

“It wasn’t like that,” Dimitri protests, then pauses. “But she was very pretty,” he admits quietly, and Sylvain grins. “Like a goddess,” he adds, even quieter.

Sylvain smacks his own face in secondhand embarrassment.

“There, you see? It’s Dimitri’s romantic awakening.”

“Hardly matters unless he gets to see her again,” Felix says lazily, and Sylvain is the one that makes a wounded noise.

Dimitri, on the other hand, merely looks thoughtful. He hadn’t actively thought about wanting to see her again until Felix brought it up. But he thinks he might like to, if the chance presented itself.

“It’s the awakening,” Sylvain whisper-hisses, and no one seems to care.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ingrid says, in response to Felix’s statement and not Sylvain’s, “In any case, you should get this again.”

She tries to eat the rest. Felix fights her for it.

(When Dimitri goes shopping again two weeks later, he can’t find the cheese anywhere. Ingrid looks let down, Sylvain looks surprised, and Felix looks offended.

“What the fuck? Go find your 3AM cheese goddess again and ask her,” Felix says, and Sylvain laughs a little too hard.)

Dimitri’s not sure why he allows himself to be dragged to parties, but he keeps letting it happen. Ingrid had brought them news that Dorothea was throwing her beginning-of-semester bash, which was always a Big Deal, and several of their mutual friends were going. Ingrid couldn’t not attend, because she was good friends with Dorothea. Sylvain was absolutely going, because he would never miss a party. Felix had not wanted to go, but Sylvain had somehow convinced him, and if Felix was going to suffer, then Dimitri better damn well suffer too, and so he relented from the combined pressure of Felix’s glare and Sylvain’s coaxing.

He supposed he could use the change of pace every now and then. And he could always slip away; people were usually too drunk to notice after a couple hours.

Sylvain borrows a shirt from Dimitri’s closet and wears it with three buttons undone. Felix steals a black jacket from Dimitri’s closet and wears it halfway down his arms. Ingrid does not take anything from his closet this time, but does borrow one of his hair ties.

Everyone tells Dimitri to change when he comes out of his room; Sylvain, as usual, takes control to make Dimitri more “party ready”, which consists of a long blue coat and off-white shirt—with several buttons undone, of course. (Dimitri buttons at least two up again later.)

The party is loud and raucous as it’s meant to be, but he’s amongst mostly friends, and so he’s actually not that anxious. There’s a few people he doesn’t know, but he is otherwise at least mostly familiar with everyone else. Annette bounces up and down when she sees them walk in, tapping Mercedes on the shoulder, who was conversing with Ashe. Dedue appears a moment later, and Dimitri’s main friend group is all here.

“Yay! I’m glad you made it too, Dimitri,” Annette says cheerfully. “Gosh—frowning already, Felix? Here, have a drink.”

Annette proffers her own cup.

“You already drank out of this,” Felix scowls, but he takes it anyway, and grimaces when he takes a sip. “What is this, fruit juice?”

“Felix is too good for Noa liquer,” Annette declares, turning her nose up, “Fine, go get yourself a beer or whatever!”

Felix teases her by holding her cup too high to reach, and she screeches at him until he finally puts it back in her hands. Mercedes chuckles as she watches them, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to compliment her dress with a roguish wink. She returns the compliment easily enough, with genuine warmth, which always throws Sylvain off.

“Dedue! I was surprised to hear you were coming,” Dimitri smiles, and Dedue smiles back.

“Dorothea asked if Ashe and I could make a few things,” he said. “Since I am here, I may as well make sure nobody gets in too much trouble.”

Dimitri chuckles.

“Oooh, Dedue, Ashe, you made food?” Ingrid chimes in, looking excited. While some things had obviously been bought, Dorothea was pretty picky about the specifics of her parties when she threw one. “I’m excited!”

“We did a really good job, if I say so myself,” Ashe smiles. “The meat skewers came out really well, so you and Felix should grab some while you get a chance.”

“Oh, you bet I will,” Ingrid says, already wandering away. “Hear that Felix? I’m not saving you any!”

Felix yells back, and in a second they all start wading deeper into the place, and everyone starts to branch off on their own. Dedue still mostly sticks with Dimitri, though, and the two of them stick to the peripheries.

Dorothea’s parties really span the entire apartment building; her neighbors across the way and downstairs are either friends or people she’s friendly with, so the doors to their apartments are also open for more space. If Dimitri thinks about it, it’s really nice, the way everything comes together.

As the night wears on and he’s consumed a couple drinks that Mercedes had kindly procured for him (with a reminder to drink slow), he begins feeling—looser, braver, almost a little giddy. Dedue is in conversation with Ashe, and Dimitri slips away to the kitchen for a moment, because there had been an extra dish of saghert and cream that he now wants in a very visceral way.

The kitchen is surprisingly empty—except for one person, who has climbed up on the counter, and is perched on her knees as she rifles through the topmost cabinet. The slit up the side of her skirt shows a generous bit of leg with the way she’s positioned, and Dimitri stares before he tells himself not to. The girl takes out two bags of—some kind of snack, and when she turns her head, Dimitri sees that she is holding another bag with her teeth, and also that he recognizes her.

“From the dairy aisle,” he blurts, and she blinks at him before trying to climb off the counter.

She teeters a little and Dimitri automatically moves to help her, in which he actually just lifts her off the counter by the armpits like a wayward cat.

“Oh—sorry,” he says, realizing that the action was way too familiar for someone who barely qualified as an acquaintance.

But she doesn’t look at all offended, and merely sets all three bags of chips down before she speaks.

“Thanks,” she says, then stares at him. “From the dairy aisle,” she states, in a manner that is confirming that yes, that is where they met.

A pause. She is so, so pretty, Dimitri thinks. There is sparkly gold eyeshadow brightening her already-bright green eyes, making her stare more intense. The more they’re at a standstill, the more nervous he becomes.

“I couldn’t find the cheese again,” he blurts.

She nods.

“It’s only stocked the fourth Tuesday of the month,” she says, ripping open a bag of chips, and taking a few to cram in her mouth before offering them to Dimitri.

“Oh,” he says, taking a chip. “It was very good. My friends liked it a lot too.”

She stares for a moment again, then offers him a tiny smile, a brief upturn of her lips. She had expected him to, he realizes, and she’s at least minutely pleased to have that expectation fulfilled. A short laugh escapes him at how odd this all is.

“You didn’t buy anything that night,” he says, though it comes out as a question.

She shrugs.

“I was just there,” she says, offering the chip bag again.

“Just there,” he repeats, taking more chips. At 3:30AM. “To…hang out?”

She gives a brief shake of her head.

“To stare at a specifically stocked cheese, only to give them to a stranger to buy?” Dimitri tries again.

She blinks at him, popping more chips in her mouth.

“Not a stranger,” she says, after she finishes chewing.

“Pardon? Forgive me, I don’t…recall us meeting before that night?” he says. He would have remembered someone like her, he’d think.

“You’re Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” she says, and he blinks at her use of his full name. Her eyes crease in amusement at his expression. “Not a stranger to me.”

Ah.

“But you are a stranger to me,” he says, and she shrugs again, as if saying it’s not like it’s something he could help.

“Byleth,” she offers, putting the open bag of chips in his hands, and opening up another one. (He looks at the labeling on the front. Beast meat and onion flavor. Huh.) “Want to go on an adventure, Dimitri?”

He looks back at her, mouth slightly open. She continues to stare at him, munching away from the other bag of chips, waiting for his response.

“Okay,” he says.

She nods, then rinses her fingers at the sink before motioning for him to follow with her head. She takes the two bags of chips with her as she walks out of the kitchen.

She navigates the crowd until she finds a group of three, all dressed looking as if they could kill, dumping the chip bags into the hands of a redhead.

“Hm? Chatterbox, where did you find these?” the girl says, reading the unusual flavors.

“Kitchen cabinet,” Byleth says, and the girl shoots her a half-exasperated look, but questions no further.

She hands one of them to the girl with blonde curls beside her, and Dimitri proffers the third bag as well, which the redhead also takes with a curious glance at him. Byleth makes to leave, but the boy with lavender hair and sparkly eyeshadow—the same that glints on Byleth’s eyelids, he realizes—stops her.

“Whoa, hold on there, friend! Not so much an introduction?”

“You know him already,” Byleth says, and the boy frowns at her.

“Yuri Leclerc,” he says, turning to Dimitri.

“Name’s Hapi,” the redhead pipes up, still looking at the chips.

“And I am Constance von Nuvelle,” the blonde says, tilting up her chin with a haughty smile.

“Dimitri,” he says, a little shyly, since they already know him. “A pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” Yuri says, with a nod of his head, before glancing back at Byleth. “Are you leaving already? And kidnapping the Blaiddyd Heir?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

A pause.

“Well, carry on then,” Yuri says with a shrug. “Want a drink before you go?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

They wait as Yuri makes his way to the counter full of bottles a little ways away, watching as he makes a cocktail in a shaker with professional ease. He strains the drink into three cups, carrying all of them back, and Byleth and Dimitri take one each.

“You get what I’m drinking,” Yuri says, eyes wicked, and does not offer up what it is. Dimitri sips, and by the way it burns, he can tell it’s strong. Yuri looks faintly impressed with Dimitri’s lack of reaction beyond a few rapid blinks. “I’ll tell the Heir’s friends where he went, if I see them asking.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says, realizing that he doesn’t know where any of them are at the moment.

Byleth merely nods, and motions for Dimitri to follow again.

The night air is refreshing, and Dimitri feels pleasantly floaty as he trails after his new friend. They round the Black Eagle complex and head into the dark woods behind; he doesn’t know where they’re going and feels like he shouldn’t ask; he has an idle thought that he should text one of his friends to let them know, but Byleth looks back at him to make sure he’s following and he can only think about how pretty she is. He smiles at her, and she tilts her head before reaching for his hand.

“Hand,” Dimitri says, looking down at them.

“Hand,” Byleth agrees. “The ground is uneven here.”

He looks a little longer and then swings them a little. Byleth looks amused.

He enjoys the silent companionship between them for a little while but quickly becomes curious, so he begins asking her questions. What year was she? A senior. Where did she live on campus? In Abyss, at the Ashen Wolf dorm. Her major? More or less the teaching program, with a focus on weapons and tactics. Technically it was something of a double major, paired with history and international studies. It was complicated. Her weapon concentrations? This year, faith and reason magic. She’d already passed for swords, brawling, and bows.

He stares at her open-mouthed as she answers his questions with easy patience.

“That’s…quite the curriculum,” he says slowly, “When do you sleep?”

She glances at him.

“I manage,” she says, “I could say the same for you.”

He pauses, looking up at the sky as he collects his thoughts, sipping at his drink absentmindedly. She must already know what his curriculum more or less was—the three heirs apparent of Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester attending the same school the same year had been quite the news, and though their ideas of management differed, they did also overlap in areas. A handful of their core classes were inevitably the same before they branched off into their own areas of interest. But in any case, all of them were double-majoring with incredibly heavy courseloads to help prepare for their futures.

“It’s just insomnia,” Dimitri says instead.

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “So, 3AM grocery shopping.”

“So 3AM grocery shopping,” he agrees.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been walking, but even if it’s been a long time, he finds this all terribly pleasant. A distant part of him is aware that he would not be this at ease had it not been for the drinks he’s had tonight. Alcohol is wonderful.

Byleth pushes through some branches, and they walk into a clearing, and Dimitri looks up at an enormous tree, his mouth open.

“Ta-da,” Byleth says, though her inflection doesn’t change, “Biggest tree on campus. Good place to sleep under.”

“Now?” Dimitri says, with some alarm.

“You could camp if you wanted to. But in the daytime,” Byleth tells him, drinking from her cup. “Try it sometime.”

He blinks at her, unsure if this is just a general suggestion or specifically geared advice.

“Not sure I could find it again,” he says, because he doesn’t recall the path they took at all, too distracted by other things. Also, despite the moon, it had been quite the dark trek.

“I’ll bring you,” she says simply.

They go closer to the tree, and Byleth reaches up to one of the lowest branches and snaps off two thin stalks of leaves, inspecting them before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go back.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, a little dumbfounded, “Okay.”

They make their way back. Along the way, Dimitri finishes his drink, Byleth stumbles over a tree root (her shoes are heeled, he realizes just now, how did she trek all the way in those?), and Dimitri somewhat insistently offers her a piggy back ride. She accepts, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck with both of their empty cups stacked in one hand, and Dimitri feels just a little giddy. He wants to run. (He tells himself not to.)

“You know,” she says after a while, resting her chin on his shoulder, “You shouldn’t follow strangers into dark and unknown places.”

“Not a stranger,” Dimitri says, feeling exceedingly proud of himself for the response.

He feels rather than sees her smile, and is disappointed he can’t see it. When they make it to Dorothea’s, Sylvain and Felix are outside, and the former hollers when he sees him.

“You stupid boar, why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?!” Felix hisses when they near, and Dimitri’s eyes widen.

Byleth hops off of his back (and Sylvain stares), and Dimitri pulls his phone out of his pocket to see six notifications of missed calls and texts.

“It was on silent,” Dimitri says apologetically, and Felix huffs. “Sorry.”

“Aw, no harm no foul,” Sylvain says, “Dimitri was just occupied, huh?”

“I kidnapped him,” Byleth says, throwing the two empty cups into a nearby trash can.

“We had an adventure,” Dimitri says, enthusiastically.

“Did you now,” Sylvain says, looking at Byleth, who merely stares back and adjusts her posture like a challenge. It only serves to make Sylvain more intrigued.

“This is Byleth,” Dimitri says, “From the dairy aisle!”

“Oh, the 3AM cheese goddess?” Sylvain says with a laugh, and Felix flushes at the stupid moniker as Byleth blinks in surprise.

“Yes,” Dimitri nods, “She says it’s only stocked…uh…”

“The fourth Tuesday of the month,” she supplies.

“What the fuck?” Felix says incredulously.

She shrugs. A chime goes off, and this time Byleth reaches into her bra to pull out her phone. All three boys stare at her.

“Gotta go,” she says, tapping out a quick reply. “Balthus is fighting someone.”

“Ah,” Dimitri says, wilting, his eyes and countenance like a sad puppy.

“You’ll see me around,” Byleth tells him with a faint smile, and disappears back into the apartment.

“He’s smitten,” Sylvain whispers to Felix, watching Dimitri stare after her.

“Disgusting,” Felix says back, scowling. “He’s also drunk. Did she say there was a fight?”

They head back in to find the rest of their friends to assure them that Dimitri is alive. There is indeed a fight, but a result of two very brawny guys—one presumably Balthus, the other Raphael—testing their abilities against each other. Dorothea is yelling, trying to get them to take it outside before they break things in her apartment and someone else gets hurt, to no avail.

Dimitri catches Yuri’s eye from across the crowd, who grins and waves in a cheeky sort of manner, pointing back to the ring. Byleth then appears, sliding her way in between them with impeccable timing and launching her own surprise attack. She punches the one with wild dark hair in the gut, then grabs him by the wrist and throws him to the floor. The apartment erupts in cheers.

“Aw, what the hell, Byleth!” Balthus yells, sitting up.

“Didn’t you hear the lady?” she says to both him and Raphael, who is also cheering, “Outside.”

“You deserved that, B,” Hapi chimes in, “You started it.”

“Alright, alright,” Balthus groans. “Round two outside, then!”

Sylvain elbows Felix, and they both look at Dimitri.

“Smitten,” Sylvain says.

“Disgusting,” Felix says, with feeling.

(Alcohol is terrible, Dimitri decides the next morning, when he wakes up with a massive hangover. He ventures out of his room and all three of his childhood friends—who are somehow already up, how was that possible?—stare at him in one coordinated movement to incredibly eerie effect. They also look how he feels.

“We’ve got the hangover cures,” Ingrid says, placing a plate of greasy breakfast food down as Sylvain holds up the full coffeepot and Felix rattles their mega-size bottle of aspirin. “So spill about what the hell happened last night.”

Dimitri demurs momentarily to brush his teeth and wash his face. After, he sits down at their common table, accepts a cup of coffee, and dutifully spills.)

It’s two weeks before he sees Byleth again, having not being able to catch a glimpse of her anywhere. Garreg Mach was a big university, and he hadn’t recognized her from campus previously, but…now that he was looking, he’d kind of expected to at least see her on occasion from a distance.

It’s another late-night chore night, and it’s about 1AM when he hauls his basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room. He expects the potential of others doing their laundry since the hour isn’t that late, but when he pushes through the doors he does not expect to see Byleth sitting on top of one of the washing machines, legs drawn up, a hardcover book perched on her lap.

She holds up a hand in greeting, as if she had been waiting for him to walk through the door.

“Hello,” Dimitri returns, blinking a few times, disoriented.

One, her legs are distracting him, because they are so bare and it doesn’t look like she’s wearing pants. Two, while she isn’t disallowed here to do laundry, this is the Blue Lion dorm. She lives in the Ashen Wolf dorm, which is oddly isolated from every other housing, so there is absolutely no reason for her to be doing laundry here, at a location of total inconvenience, at 1AM.

“What are you doing here?” he ventures, walking over and setting down his basket in front of the empty one next to her.

Byleth lets her legs down so they dangle over the side of the washing machine, just over her sandals. She is wearing pants, he sees—or shorts, rather. They’re just…very short, and her oversized sweatshirt nearly covers them. She looks comfy, at least.

“Reading,” Byleth responds, holding up the book, A Treatise on Srengian Weaponcraft.

“You’re studying—here?” Dimitri asks incredulously.

Byleth shrugs.

“Good of a place as any,” she says.

“I...guess it could be,” Dimitri relents.

It’s not busy at this time, and the machines are top-notch, so the noise they produce could be acceptable enough ambience. He stares at her a minute before he moves on to load his clothes into the machine, carefully measuring out the detergent and pressing his desired settings. Byleth watches him, and when the immediate task is completed, Dimitri nervously faces her.

“I um…I’m sorry for my behavior at the party,” he says, trying not to wring his hands as he thinks about the piggyback ride. “My actions were—overfamiliar.”

“On the contrary,” Byleth counters easily, “You helped me out.”

He brightens a little at that, and she tilts her head at him. After a moment she smiles a little, and Dimitri feels his heart skip a beat.

“How was the morning after?” she asks, and Dimitri coughs at the wording.

“Not ideal,” he admits, rubbing the max of his neck. “My tolerance is not very high. But I recovered.”

“I’ll note that,” she says, with a nod. “Yuri hits hard with his drinks. You took it well, considering.”

He debates whether to bring up his lack of taste, but decides against it. That conversation always goes one way, and he doesn’t want to bring up past tragedies and traumas, right now.

“You were okay?” he asks instead, and she gives him an amused look.

“High tolerance,” she says. “Father’s side.”

“Ah,” Dimitri nods. Not that he knows her very well, but she hadn’t seemed drunk at all—though by the time he’d run into her in the kitchen he wasn’t confident in his own observational accuracy. He doesn’t know where to go from here, and his eyes fall on her book. “So…Srengian weaponry?” he tries, and winces at the awkwardness of the delivery.

But Byleth nods.

“Known for their maces,” she says absently, cracking the text open again, “But their other weapons have some good durability.” She pauses, looking at him. “Might be a worthwhile investment.”

He blinks. The Blaiddyd line is well-known for their greater-than-average strength, and Dimitri is no exception. Still, he hates how easily things break in his hands; even iron and steel can shatter in his grip if he’s startled. But Byleth offers this suggestion so matter-of-factly, as if she were recommending a flavor of ice cream or color of shirt, that he can’t even be embarrassed about it.

“It might be,” Dimitri says eventually. “I’ll look into it. Sylvain has contacts in Sreng.”

“So do I, if you need another,” Byleth says, and Dimitri blinks at her again.

Sreng’s clan politics are notoriously turbulent, and Sylvain only had actual contacts because he had been trying to improve relations as the next head of House Gautier, whose lands bordered Sreng. Otherwise, Sreng wasn’t usually a place people had, or could get, contacts in.

“You…have contacts in Sreng?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“My father used to be a mercenary before a bodyguard,” Byleth says absently, “So I grew up as one, too. We used to travel a lot.”

There’s more to it, Dimitri can tell, but he doesn’t push, purely because he doesn’t know what, exactly, to ask.

“There more I learn about you, the less I seem to know,” he says with a wry smile after a minute.

She stares at him.

“And to me, you feel familiar,” she murmurs.

His eyes widen.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” she agrees.

There’s silence.

“I only ever seem to meet you unexpectedly,” he ventures, after a long while. The washer beeps, the lock to the door releasing. He goes to open it.

“I’m not a ghost,” Byleth says, watching as he takes out his damp clothes and begins moving them to the dryer.

“That’s relieving,” he smiles. “I also only ever seem to see you at night.”

She only smiles faintly at that.

“Let’s spar,” she says.

“Wha—now?”

“No, tomorrow,” she says. “During the day.”

He’s not entirely sure what brought this on, but he does think he’d like very much to see her fight.

“After one o’clock?” He asks, wracking his brain for his schedule, and she considers it for a moment before nodding and hopping off of the washing machine.

She slides her feet back into her sandals ad begins walking away. Dimitri panics for a moment, because they haven’t hashed out any details.

“Wait! How will we—?”

“I’ll make myself visible,” Byleth says, already halfway out the door as she peeks back, “You won’t miss me.”

And then she’s gone. Dimitri shakes his head as he finishes moving the rest of his laundry. Once he straightens back up, he realizes she’s left her book.

A tether, he thinks.

After a moment, as he waits for his clothes to dry, he picks it up and cracks it open.

A good of a place to read as any.

He tries to not tell his friends after lunch where he’s going (and technically, he doesn’t even know), but his antsiness is apparent, so his secret-keeping fails spectacularly. Sylvain and Ingrid tag team him, and he gives Ingrid a betrayed look.

“Fellas, do we think it’s a date?” Sylvain asks, holding out his hands as if he’s addressing a council.

“It’s sparring,” Ingrid says, “Not a date.”

“Could be a date,” Felix says.

“Only you would consider that a date,” Sylvain laments.

Felix shoves him. Dimitri hurries along, trying to leave them behind in the cafeteria to no avail. He really wishes he had been more insistent on details last night, because in a few moments, he’ll be at a loss of where he should be heading.

It’s a needless worry, because as he walks out, he is reminded of Byleth’s words. In the distance, where the space opens up and there are benches situated along walkways, an enormous amount of birds are flocking.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, and when his friends catch up behind him, they also stare.

“What the hell is that?” Felix says, and Dimitri picks his way towards the mass.

“Byleth, I think,” Dimitri answers faintly. “She said I wouldn’t miss her.”

When they near the birds scatter in one movement, though some brave ones flutter back. Byleth is indeed revealed to have been in the middle—and cause—of that, a bag of birdseed mostly empty in her hands. She nods her head in greeting as Sylvain starts laughing.

“Hello,” Ingrid says, whacking Sylvain once, but he doesn’t stop and doubles over instead, “I think I missed out on meeting you properly at Dorothea’s. I’m Ingrid.”

She holds out her hand, and Byleth says her name in return as she shakes it.

“I want in on the spar,” Felix says, and Sylvain wheezes, his laughter abruptly cut off by Felix’s self-imposed third-wheeling status of this potential date.

“Okay,” Byleth says without hesitation, and Ingrid and Sylvain sigh. Not a date.

Dimitri isn’t offended, mostly intrigued. Byleth stands, brushing feathers and seeds off of her lap, and sets off in the direction of the gyms and training halls. The others follow, Ingrid and Sylvain too interested to stay behind.

Dimitri had brought a change of clothes, but it becomes evident that Byleth intends to fight in her jeans and nice blouse and heeled boots, so he doesn’t end up changing. There’s no conversation, though Sylvain fills the silence with chatter anyway, as if this is a routine they know well.

Byleth picks up a practice sword and Felix’s eyes gleam; Dimitri picks up a practice lance, handling it with a light touch.

“Best two out of three,” Byleth says, and Dimitri nods.

She lets him take first hit, the two of them warming up as they trade easy blows. She’s quick, but so is Dimitri despite his size. He does well enough at keeping her at a distance, but he misreads her intention and she lunges in close, tapping her blade against his ribs.

“Point!” Sylvain calls excitedly.

“No need to go easy,” she says, “For lances, the moment the distance closes, you have to be quick and readjust, or it’s over.”

“Yes, Professor,” Dimitri says, the title slipping out. “Ah—”

Byleth gives him an amused look but doesn’t comment, getting back into position.

They go again. Dimitri throws away some of his reservations but still not entirely, and she lands the second round too.

“Harder,” she says, and Sylvain whistles as Dimitri flushes.

“I’m concerned about my strength,” he admits, examining the practice lance. Breakage of the practice equipment itself is no matter, but it’s the ensuing issues that can arise.

“Mercenary training, remember,” Byleth says, and though they don’t see it, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid’s eyebrows rise.

Dimitri frowns, but takes a deep breath, and trusts her.

He whirls. Byleth’s reflexes are excellent and she dodges fairly easily, tracking his moments with an even sharper gaze than before. He doesn’t like fighting, but he’s been trained since he was a child; it wasn’t necessary in this day and age to know how to—it was more common to just hire protection detail against demonic or wild beasts, or other enemies—but those descended from the old noble bloodlines especially still held onto tradition, whether as a hobby or actual self-protection. Even so, he can tell the difference between them; she’s seen real battle, and though he has too, not in the same capacity. The way she strategizes and reads his movements in a split second is incredible.

The cracks from their clashing practice blades are louder, and Dimitri registers that his will shatter soon. It’s hard to control his strength when the fight is so exhilarating. He goes for it anyway, jumping back from her slash and spinning his lance in his hands rapidly; Byleth’s eyes narrow, and he lunges.

He just barely sees her move, her timing is impeccable—she jumps, stomping the tip of the lance into the ground before stepping forward and snapping his lance at its weakest point. As her foot hits the ground, she crouches low and sweeps his legs out from under him.

When he opens his eyes, she has her sword under his chin.

“A good move,” she says, “But it’s going to take more than that to catch me.”

She’s not even saying it flirtatiously. She does, however, smile at little at him before offering a hand up, and Dimitri thinks he might be in love.

“Oh, he’s done for,” Sylvain says under his breath.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” Felix scoffs, his tone almost bored, but his eyes are bright at the display of Byleth’s skill.

Ingrid doesn’t say anything, and when the two boys turn to her, having expected her to respond, they see her typing furiously on her phone.

“Traitor,” Felix says, clicking his tongue.

“Just doing my duty,” Ingrid replies solemnly.

(Felix also loses all three bouts against Byleth, though he comes close the third time. Afterwards, they all end up training together, and even Sylvain puts his mind to it after Ingrid drags him onto the field.

“We’re getting milkshakes,” Ingrid declares, after they wrap up.

She’s sitting on the ground while Sylvain is lying flat on his back. Felix and Dimitri are less expressive, but they too look worn. Byleth is unreadable, but she does, at least, look a little winded. She offers a hand to Ingrid, while Felix rolls his eyes and pulls Sylvain up after he complains.

“Dimitri’s buying yours, Byleth,” Ingrid says, and the two in question look surprised.

“Oh,” Byleth says, “I—”

“Allow me,” Dimitri smiles.

Byleth blinks at him.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

Felix and Sylvain look at Ingrid, who looks smug.

“I’ll buy yours, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, with a discreet salute.

“I’m buying my own,” Felix tells them.

They all fall into step. Byleth politely listens to them squabble all the way to the shop.)

Byleth comes and goes when she wants to, like a cat or a ghost.

On a few occasions she shows up during their group lunches, stealing fries or other sides off of someone’s plate (mostly Dimitri’s), staying only to chat for a few minutes before she is off again. Sometimes she is in the company of her friends—the ones Dimitri met at Dorothea’s party (who he learns are also her suitemates) or Linhardt von Hevring, who seems to be either half-asleep or hyperfocused on his thesis project. Dimitri actually does see her around campus sometimes now, but he does see her friends more than he does her.

“Dunno what to say about that,” Yuri tells him, when he and Dimitri cross paths and are walking the same way to their next classes, “Half the time she’s not in her room and none of us know where she is. She’s always been like that. That’s just Byleth.”

“You’ve known her long?” Dimitri queries.

“Maybe around—five, six years? Constance, Hapi, Balthus, and I banded together after some…unfortunate circumstances. Byleth helped us out of a tight spot during our last year of high school. Stuck with her ever since.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, and Yuri glances at him.

“You’re not bad, Princeling,” Yuri says after a moment. Most people want to pry into the “unfortunate circumstances” and “tight spot” that he spoke of, and Yuri feels more inclined towards Dimitri for not doing so.

Dimitri winces instead.

“It’s just…”

He trails off. Yuri can guess why.

“Ohh. Yeah, okay. I get it.”

Dimitri blinks at him in surprise.

“You do?”

Yuri doesn’t answer that. There’s little he doesn’t know about the people on campus; the Blaiddyd Heir didn’t question Yuri, so Yuri will not question him in turn.

“Byleth’s Byleth,” he says instead, “Count yourself lucky that she makes a point to find you.”

With that, Yuri nods his head and turns into his classroom. Dimitri stands there, mulling over Yuri’s words, before he realizes that he’s running late and dashes to his own class.

There’s a small park nearby that Dimitri goes to as well during the nights he can’t sleep. All it has is a couple of benches and a swingset and a basketball court; a surprising number of people use both during the day, but unsurprisingly, no one’s there at night.

Except Byleth. Dimitri is no longer startled when he comes across her, even though her presence is always more unexpected than not. She’s swinging on the swings, kicking up woodchips as she drags her feet.

“Hi,” Dimitri says, walking closer. “Need a push?”

She nods, and he helps her swing higher. Pretty quickly the height she reaches seems dangerous, but she just calls “higher” and so he keeps pushing, until it seems like she is going to go over the whole set.

“Um,” Dimitri says, pushing her once more, and she glances at him as she surges up.

As she glides forward and reaches the highest point—she jumps.

Dimitri yells, startled, but she soars through the air, serene and graceful with her arms outstretched, hair spreading out behind her. She nails the landing a ways away, and when she turns back to him, she has a faint smile curving her lips, looking—exhilarated.

“You scared me,” Dimitri says, holding a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, as she walks back to him. “Again?”

He frowns at her. She tilts her head. Something about the way she went through the air—he can’t place that brand of fear. He gives himself a shake, forces a weak smile onto his face.

“Okay,” he says, and she blinks at him a few times before seating herself back on the swing.

She jumps three more times before she’s satisfied, then offers to push him if he wants a turn, or four. He politely declines, but sits on the other swing, and they move back and forth lazily.

“Drink for your thoughts?” she asks after a while, and rummages through her bag that he didn’t see earlier, pulling out a glass water bottle.

Dimitri debates, taking the bottle warily.

“Did Yuri make this?” he asks, shaking it a little, and Byleth smiles at him.

“Constance did,” she says. “It’s pleasant.”

It smells fruity when he opens the top, so he takes her word for it. It goes down easily and doesn’t burn at all, so he assumes (hopes) it’s of the weaker alcohol content variety as well.

“Do you…know what you’re going to do after you graduate?” he asks hesitantly, passing the drink back to her.

Once the question is out, he realizes the truth of it—Byleth will be graduating at the end of this year. The fact saddens him more strongly than he would have thought.

She’s silent for a while, sipping twice from her bottle.

“Yes and no,” she says finally. Opens her mouth as if to speak again, closes it. Turns to him. “You’re thinking about your position as heir.”

“I want it,” he says automatically, then pauses to consider if that’s true. It doesn’t feel like a lie, but…“I…I have never known anything else.”

Byleth looks at him, leans forward a little so that her hair falls forward too.

“That’s okay too,” she says, “To want—or to be okay with—what others want of you, until you don’t.”

He looks back at her.

“How will I know if I don’t?” he asks.

“You’ll know. Or…your friends will be able to tell.” She pauses, swings a little. “It’s hard to say.”

“You seem to have all the answers,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I really gave you any,” she says.

“That helped, nonetheless,” he says, with a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiles back.

They share the drink between them until Byleth speaks again.

“I avoided your question earlier,” she says.

“Technically you answered it,” he responds, drinking again.

She snorts, and laughs a little. Dimitri feels inordinately proud of himself.

“I’m answering it again, then,” she says, though she pauses still. “I might want to be a teacher. I might want to do what my father does.” She cocks her head. “I’ve been given a lot of choices. Theoretically, I could do anything I want.” She looks at him. “I don’t know what I want.”

Dimitri pauses, holds her gaze.

“It’s okay to not want, until you do?” he tries, and she laughs again.

“Does it work like that?”

“It could,” Dimitri says. “Probably?” He pauses. “You could pick one until you don’t want it anymore.”

Byleth swings.

“It could work like that,” she says with a slight nod. She glances at him. “Thanks.”

He gives her a helpless sort of shrug, not feeling like he really gave her an answer, either. He guesses he understands how she felt just a few moments ago, then.

“Bottoms up,” she says, and drains half of the remaining liquid in the bottle, handing the rest to Dimitri to finish up.

He does so dutifully, and she puts the empty bottle back in her bag. After, she kicks off the ground, swinging higher and higher. Dimitri watches her, then gets up, walking a bit of a distance away. She watches him in turn, then flashes him a sort of sharp smile before she pumps her legs once more for momentum, then sends herself flying.

He gauges the distance, adjusting his position, then catches her as she comes hurtling down.

“Oof,” he says, as their bodies collide and he wraps his arms around her.

“Nice,” she says into his neck, then leans back to look at him.

Oh. She’s so close. His eyes widen as he stares, lips slightly parted; her expression is unreadable, but she isn’t looking away, and he can feel her breath on his skin as she tilts a little closer, his heart beating so fast he swears she must hear it—

He lets her down. His brain immediately starts screaming. Idiot idiot idiot, why did you do that, WHY DID YOU DO THAT??? WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT???

Byleth, for her part, looks unruffled and unperturbed.

“Finals are coming up,” Dimitri says, very smoothly.

She nods, walking back to the swingset to take her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

“If we’re awake, we might as well study,” she says, very seriously.

He follows her out of the park, walks her back to the dorm partway.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night,” he echoes, and he watches her walk away until he can’t see her anymore.

When she’s out of sight, he squats down and puts his head in his hands.

(He puts himself on trial tomorrow, when his friends are awake. Sylvain and Felix sit across from him, and their gazes are piercing when he recounts the previous night. Ingrid does not sit at the table because she is more inclined to be sympathetic, and moves in the background making a smoothie for herself.

Sylvain wails when Dimitri tells That Part of the story. Felix is silent, just sits there with folded arms and looks so many levels of disappointed, though it’s probably not necessarily just about this one thing.

It’s like that maybe for forty-five minutes, this whole pathetic display. Ingrid leans against the counter, drinks her smoothie, and recounts a play-by-play on her phone into one of her group chats.)

Dimitri does not see Byleth again until they are well into finals week, and he tries not to despair.

“It is finals week,” Mercedes says soothingly.

“And she’s a senior,” Annette adds. “She’s gotta be super busy!”

“Plus, you said you never know when you see her!” Ashe says helpfully, “It’s been longer before, right?”

“But,” Sylvain almost howls, pulling at his hair, “After that? AFTER THAT?”

“Sylvain!” Annette and Ashe scold, but Dimitri feels the same. He doesn’t even have the number so he can apologize, because she always appears and disappears so suddenly that it keeps slipping his mind to ask.

Felix’s frown has grown more severe. Ingrid and Dedue look at each other and back at Dimitri, and say nothing. Mercedes and Annette look at Ingrid almost pleadingly, who gives them a sheepish shrug.

“It’ll be okay, Dimitri!” Annette tries again, and he lets out a sad sort of keen.

“For now, just focus on finals,” Mercedes suggests, “And then maybe it’ll all work out afterwards?”

“It will at least be a distraction,” Dedue finally chimes in.

Dimitri says nothing. Sylvain says it all for him.

Dimitri sees Byleth’s friends around a few times, and though he knows them and they know him, he hasn’t spoken to them very much, so he feels awkward asking after Byleth. Yuri, on the other hand, he knows better, and the boy looks amused when Dimitri (hopefully) casually brings her up.

Yuri has nothing new to share though, except he does insinuate that Byleth is hard at work at finalizing her thesis paper. Dimitri calms a little at that—enough to focus better on his own work later. Yuri gives him a look and pats his shoulder lightly before walking off.

As always, when Dimitri does find Byleth, it’s unexpected.

He’s half dead after finishing his last final, one that took place in one of the more isolated buildings on campus. Pleased that he’s finally done with that, at least, he takes the scenic route back to his dorm—there’s a glass hallway that cuts through a forested area with a river, and it’s especially beautiful this time of year.

As he looks out, movement catches his eye down below, and he’s startled to see Byleth come out from under the old stone bridge and look up at him.

His heart leaps to his throat. She waves, and he waves back hesitantly, and then she motions for him to come down.

Dimitri looks left and right, trying to figure out the best way to reach her, and he goes.

He’s slightly out of breath when he reaches her, and she has a pile of stones in her hand when he does. He blinks at them, meeting her eyes, confused and mildly concerned as to what she might use them for. Is she angry? But she’d waved him down…but was it because she was angry and about to give him a piece of her mind?

“Do you know how to skip stones?” she asks, and it takes him a minute to process.

“I…suppose I’ve never tried,” he admits.

She nods, then proceeds to do so, showing him the method. He watches as she considers the angle, then snaps her wrist as she throws the stone, which skips beautifully across the surface of the river before hitting the other side. Byleth deposits half of the stones into Dimitri’s hand, and they spend the next few minutes skipping stones—or in Dimitri’s case, trying and failing.

He ends up becoming focused on trying to succeed, Byleth keeping him stocked with a steady supply of choice stones. When he finally manages to skip one (though it only skips once before it plops into the water), he shouts in triumph, turning to her excitedly.

“Did you see that?!” he says, and freezes when he catches sight of her face.

She’s smiling, the expression both amused and proud and gentle and absolutely, absolutely mesmerizing.

“It’s nice to focus on things that aren’t exams,” she says, turning back to the river. “You’re all done?”

“Y-yes,” Dimitri stutters. “You too?”

She nods, checking her phone.

“Handed in my last paper yesterday,” she says absently, “Finished up packing up my things today.”

His throat goes dry. It feels like the world is slanting and narrowing to this point, where Byleth leaves and steps out of his life forever (forever?) and this is where it ends.

“Oh,” he says, and it comes out as almost a whisper. He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. I—do you need help moving anything?”

“No, it’s okay,” Byleth says, “I don’t…have too many things anyway. I just wanted to—”

“It would be no trouble!” Dimitri blurts, somewhat frantic. He’s cutting her off, he knows, and it’s stupid to think that if he prolongs the conversation she’ll stay a little longer, but—it’s not exactly wrong, either, is it? “I mean, I’m sure some things would be heavy, and I could—”

She looks a little surprised at his interruption, but blinks it away.

“No, I—”

“It would be faster, probably, but I mean, not that I want you to leave faster—”

“Dimitri—”

“—the opposite, really, but I mean, you’re graduating! That’s exciting, I’m sure you can’t wait to be out of here—”

“Dimitri—”

“You probably have some great summer plans, and I hope you will—”

“Go out with me.”

“Yes, exactly, go out with me, I—what?”

He snaps to attention, thinking surely he must have heard wrong. Despite the fact he was unraveling at the seams, Byleth looks amused, if also a little worried.

“I’m—sorry, could you repeat that?” he breathes, and Byleth shifts her position a little, the movement just slightly unusual.

“Go out with me?” she says again, though it’s pitched more as a question this time.

Oh, Goddess, he hadn’t heard wrong. And…that shifting, the pitch of her tone, was she—nervous?

Dimitri gapes at her and she meets his gaze calmly, though after a prolonged silence she looks to the side, tilting her head down a little as if embarrassed.

“You…can say no, you know,” she says softly, and he blanches.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean—I’d like to go out with you very much,” he says, defaulting to a more formal tone and posture out of desperation.

She looks back up at him and smiles again.

“I’m…glad I didn’t misunderstand your heartbeat last time,” she says, and he both winces and flushes at the reminder of that night.

“I—panicked,” he says, looking away. “But I…regretted it very much, after.”

“I know,” Byleth says.

“You know?” he asks, mouth falling open a little.

She only nods, amused again, but offers no explanation.

“Come here,” she says, motioning for him to lean down.

He does, and she kisses his cheek.

“Hand,” she says, and he obeys mechanically, shocked by that simple action.

Byleth pulls out a marker and scrawls on his wrist. He stares at it incredulously when she pulls away.

“My number,” she says pointedly when he doesn’t say anything. “I do actually have to go, but call me. Or text me. Whatever. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Of…course not,” he says, somewhat in awe. This is happening, it’s really happening.

Byleth looks like she wants to laugh again, but she gives him a little wave and makes her way back up to the building. It takes him too long to recover and realize that he should have walked her back. When he does regain his senses, however, he pulls out his phone, typing out a text as fast as he can.

Can we meet over the summer?

It’s only a few minutes before he receives a reply.

Yes.

Are you free next week?

Yes.

Canitakeyououttuesdayarounclunchtime

There’s a few seconds of pause, and Dimitri suspects she is laughing.

Yes. It’s a date.

He grins stupidly at his phone, rereading the conversation over and over again until he’s satisfied. Then he runs back to his dorm, throwing open the door with wild abandon.

“Guess what!” he shouts into the room, and he’s in luck, because all three of his suitemates are there, each in the midst of something different. Sylvain pokes his head out of his room, Felix looks up from the stove, and Ingrid looks over from the laundry she’s folding.

“Oh, shit, really?” Sylvain says, taking in Dimitri’s expression and also honing in on the number on Dimitri’s wrist. “You finally got her number?”

“We’re dating!” he announces, then pauses. “I mean, well, if I understood correctly, unless she was just—?”

“You’re dating,” Ingrid tells him before anxiety can take him over, grinning widely. “Congrats.”

Felix just waves the spatula in his hand, but he mutters thank the Goddess—about fucking time under his breath.

Sylvain, who is closest, is the first to be subjected to one of Dimitri’s bone-crushing hugs, and even spun around a few times. Felix hisses from where he stands, but is unable to escape being next in line. Ingrid laughs and pats Dimitri’s back when it’s her turn.

“Had a good semester?” she asks fondly.

“It was an excellent semester,” Dimitri says brightly.

“Disgusting,” Felix grumbles, and Ingrid and Sylvain laugh.

Dimitri knocks on the door nervously, trying not to fidget too much as he waits. He doesn’t have to wait long, however—but when the door opens, his eyes go wide.

A man roughly his own height, muscular and rugged with a scar across his cheekbone, a grave sort of face, and an air of someone who demands respect without having to ask for it, stands in the doorway with a large mug in hand.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice rough and deep.

Dimitri’s attention goes to the mug for a moment, which he registers reads “World’s Best Dad” in big letters, confirming his assumptions.

“I’m—here to pick up Byleth?” Dimitri manages, and to his relief, Byleth’s father simply nods and turns back into the house.

“By! Your Blaiddyd boy is here!” then, turning back to Dimitri, “Come in.”

He wonders briefly how he knows who Dimitri is on sight; his name might be well known enough, but he tries to stay out of anything where his image might be broadcasted. He steps inside cautiously, then glances at the man again. There’s something strangely familiar about him that he can’t quite place, and it’s not because of his relation to Byleth, because they look nothing alike.

“The kid’ll be a minute,” her father says, “Anyway, I’m Jeralt. Obviously, I’m By’s dad.”

“I’m Dimitri Blaiddyd,” Dimitri introduces, with a weak smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jeralt just grunts and pats Dimitri’s shoulder in acknowledgement before offering him coffee, which Dimitri accepts out of nervousness. The drink is potent and bracing, without sugar or milk, and Jeralt refills his own mug.

Dimitri peeks at him from over the rim, still trying to figure out why Jeralt is familiar as the man stretches, the multitude of pops and cracks coming from his body making Dimitri wince.

“Don’t get old,” Jeralt tells him, “How reckless you were in your youth doesn’t fuck around when it cashes in.”

“You’re reckless now,” Byleth says as she comes down the stairs. “Cut back on the drinking.”

She’s in a loose blouse and mid-length skirt this time, a pink headband decorating her hair. Every time Dimitri seems her she seems to be sporting a different style. It’s fun.

Jeralt grunts.

“Yeah, well, can’t avoid recklessness in my line of work, and Rhea sure as hell don’t know how to take it easy. Trust me, the drinks are necessary.”

It clicks, then, and Dimitri almost cracks the cup in his hands. He lets out a strangled noise, and both Byleth and Jeralt look at him.

“You’re Jeralt Eisner,” he wheezes, looking to Byleth and back to Jeralt again. “You guard Madam Rhea—you’re the Blade Breaker, Seiros Security’s finest!”

Jeralt drinks his coffee.

“Well, it’s embarrassing to be called that, and also—kid, he didn’t know?”

Byleth shrugs. “Never came up.”

Jeralt sighs.

“Well, there it is, then. Yeah, Rhea and I go…way back, and now I’m in charge of her security company. By’s been trained since she was a kid, so…if you have any issues, she’s got your back.”

Dimitri looks at Byleth, who flashes him a peace sign with a deadpan expression.

“Thank you,” he says, for lack of anything else to say. She nods.

Jeralt looks amused, then waves them off.

“Anyway, have fun or whatever, and bring him back by curfew if he has one, kid.”

Byleth nods, and Dimitri looks back and forth, unable to fully process the information he’s just learned. But Byleth tugs him along, they’re out of the house and in his car before he regains his senses and looks at her.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me,” he says, and Byleth smiles faintly.

“Yuri says a lady cannot reveal her secrets,” she says, “But I think I’d like to start sharing them with you.”

Dimitri blinks at her, surprised, but then smiles.

“I’d be honored if you did,” he says. “There are…things I’d like to tell you as well, in time.”

She nods, looking pleased.

“We’ve got plenty,” she says. “So, where to?”

“There’s a new Duscurian spot that opened up a couple miles away. I was thinking we try it?”

“Lead the way,” Byleth smiles.

Dimitri starts driving. He lets Byleth choose the music and roll down the window; the wind ruffles their hair vigorously and she tries to keep it out of his face for him, which makes him laugh before she just rolls the windows up again.

He knows this is just the beginning, but there’s happiness bubbling up in his chest and a sense of ease and contentment over them both—so what he also knows is that it’s going to be a wonderful summer.

#dimileth #Fire Emblem Three Houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #dimitri x byleth #dimitri x f!byleth #fanfiction #listen there's like no real context and no worldbuilding and the characterization is questionable #BUT i had fun #migraine hit hard today so editing was very cursory rip

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ianalizz · 5 years ago

Text

To the Moon and Back

Disclaimer: If you like surprises, please do not read blurb!

Two past lovers encounter each other once again. While trying to distinguish the new boss and employee relationship they find themselves in strange encounters. Explosions and retaliations are the residue left over from their past. Both Mila and Harry wish to move on in order to work in a tranquil environment. The only way to acquire said wish is to talk out their past, but it seems like they can never get on the same page. Will they ever move on? Or will they shove the past in to the back of their minds in order to work harmoniously? One question that strides to Mila's mind is why did he come back? Short story! Hope you like it 🖤

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Also, I have a wattpad that you guys can follow: https://www.wattpad.com/Ianalizz?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_profile

Would I lose myself in him or would he enhance the better parts of my writing? Mila always wondered what would happen if the right guy swooped her off her feet. Now it seems so distant since she’s distracted. She doesn’t have to worry about guys now with her new job promotion being just in reach. It took three years to get (or almost get) to this point of her life. She is not going to let anyone ruin this for her. Not even the clueless barista at the coffee shop her boss loves. “Is this four pumps of caramel and one shot of coconut because I saw you do two caramel and two coconut. I’m going to need another iced coffee. I beg of you please make it right this time, my potential job depends on this order.” Her brown eyes pierce into the teenager and he simply nods and scoffs while taking her order back and replacing it. She mouths a loud thank you and walks out of the crowded coffee shop with a huge smile. As she says good morning to bystanders, they feel warm and can’t tell if it’s the well dressed brunette or the summer sun.

Mila makes her way into the tall glass building in the middle of New York City. The famous building is owned by Jeff Finn, one of the most famous writers in the country. The security guard greets Mila with a wave and she waves back rather aggressively while entering the elevator. Her excitement cannot be contained. She knew she was getting the job the minute it was presented to three interns: herself, snoring Steve, and Kelsey. Let it be known that Kelsey has been on maternity leave for three years and no one has heard of her since. There’s a rumor that she died, but according to her Facebook status she’s just... inactive.

The elevator dings on floor three and she leaps out while looking at her watch. Just in time, she thinks. Just in time to be early. A whole hour and seventeen minutes early. The front desk lady, Denise smiles as Mila leans over to say hello. “Hi, sweetheart. How are ya doing?” She asks with great concern.

Mila finds this confusing because it is obvious that she’s doing great. “Um amazing! How can you even ask me that Denise? Mr. Finn will give me the promotion and I’ll finally have,” She breathes deeply and almost tears up, “benefits.” She bites her lips and does a little dance showing her enthusiasm.

Mila slowly stops when noticing Denise’s facial expression. She reaches out of Mila’s arm, “Oh no. I thought someone would have told you.” Her thumb rubs Mila in a comforting style, but Mila jerks away slowly.

“Told me what? Don’t say that snoring Steve got that position! He talks out of his ass.” Mila’s voice grows into a whisper as Denise points toward the doorway revealing Steve. “G-good morning… man” She nervously says with a false smile.

Steve pulls out one of his apple air pod headphones and responds with a, “Huh?” and Mila thanks God silently.

She turns her attention to Denise, going back to their previous conversation. “Mila, no one is getting a promotion anytime soon. Jeff died last Friday.” Denise’s sorrowful eyes matches Mila’s. “I’m sorry, hun.”

Mila tries to make sense of this, but it hits her like a moving truck. “S-so... no benefits?” Denise’s shocked expression makes Mila feel the need to defend herself. “What? No one liked the guy.” Denise hits Mila on the hand like a child. “Ow! Okay, okay. I do feel for him and no one deserves that. No matter how rude and despicable they are-- were.” Mila recalls the times Mr. Finn would come to her cubicle and drop papers just to watch her pick it up and the amount of times he called her Mimi makes her gag to this day. She could have simply quit, but the pay was good and it will take more than a man to make her quit her dreams in being a published poet. Her current job was only phase one in her seven year plan. Let’s include the fact that we are in year 3 and still on phase one. Phase two was the editor position, but that dream quickly crumbled. “Iced coffee?” She hands the four pumps of caramel and one shot of coconut to Denise.

At work, she can’t get her mind off the editor position that’s still open. There has to be a way to get it. Part of her thinks it’d be easy to just pretend she already got the job and the other part of her doesn’t want to risk it. I mean, it would be easy. Just go in the editor’s office and start working. I’m perfect for the job. No one will have a clue. Except maybe for snoring Steve. She glances over to Steve who seems to be asleep and drooling. Okay, maybe he won't even notice. She gets up, careful not to wake Steve because if she does she’ll have to again hear the story of how his grandmother ice skated naked eight years ago on New Year’s.

She takes the elevator to the fourth floor where all the editors are. The last office on the left is where she believes dearly that she belongs. The only obstacle that was in the way was that Mr. Finn’s office would be diagonally next to hers, but now that doesn’t seem like a problem anymore. She walks in and her white heels clack on the dark hardwood floor. Her heart beats as she floats toward the desk, letting her fingers dance on the fine dark oak and slowly makes their way to the black plush chair. Her eyes envision her clients seated right in front of her desk and on the leather seats. She sits down on her dream chair and spins while laughing a little.

Suddenly, she hears Mr. Finn’s office door open and she ducks down under the desk. She hears footsteps approach the desk and she remains frozen in place, hoping it isn’t the ghost of Mr. Finn. The footsteps come to a stop right in front of her. The figure crouches down to her level of eyesight. The man’s green eyes locks with her as their faces are merely inches from each other. His grin turns into an even bigger smile when he notices her eyebrows raise. “Need help?” His British accent as thick as the tension in the room. He extends his hand.

Mila takes his hand and rises to her feet with the help of green eyes. “Thank you.” She lightly says while brushing off any dust on her blazer.

“No problem.” He says. He scratches his head before saying, “S-so, um. How have you been?” His face bright red and sweaty hands deep in his pockets.

“Fine. Yourself?” Her arms crossed and eyes are now attempting to burn him or make him disappear like in her poems she’s written about him, but it isn’t going to be that easy. “Good, good.” He runs his fingers through his curls and out of his eyes, gaining the confidence to say, “Look Mila,”

“Save it.” She cuts him off quickly while turning to exit, but in the back of her head she needs to know; why is he back? “W-what are you even doing here Harry?” Her lips press together as she cocks her head to the side waiting on his answer.

“Well, I…” She cuts him off again.

“Why would you think for one second I would want to see you again?”

“I didn’t mean to,” There she goes again.

“To what? Leave without telling me? Move to a whole other country without telling me?” Her voice bounces off the walls.

“Mila, I…”

“You what?” Just let him talk! Oh sorry. I’m getting too into this.

Finally, once Mila is ready to hear his excuses as to why he left two years ago, a knock appears at the door. The pair looks at Mr. Finn’s assistant, Griffin, as he pops his multicolored dyed head into the room. “Mr. Styles, you have a meeting at eleven with the board and where would you like the interviews held for the new editor position?” In between his flamboyant words Mila makes the connection as to why Harry is here.

Harry clears his throat and says, “I’ll be out in a minute.” With that Griffin closes the door and the pair regain eye contact.

“You’re replacing Mr. Finn aren’t you?” Mila questions with her shoulders hanging low. Although she is really vexatious due to the fact he left, deep down she wanted him to say he had come back for her. He nods his head while walking toward the door, opening it for her. She glances back in to the editor’s office longingly before kissing her seven year plan goodbye.

Walking back to her cubicle, she runs in to Denise who notices that Mila is nervously picking at her nails. “Oh so you didn’t hear yet?” Denise smiles.

“Hear what?” Mila shrugs her shoulders, but maintains her distinguishably sad posture.

“The new boss flew in last night and is rescheduling the editor’s position interviews! Isn’t that great? You’ll get benefits!” Denise starts to happy dance and notices that Mila isn’t doing so, therefore killing the vibe. “Uh uh, nope. No moping. You’re a shoo in for that job.” She states convincingly while wagging her finger at Mila.

“I don’t think so. It’s Harry.” Mila mutters.

“Why do you still have that asshole in your mind? It’ been two years.” Denise says throwing her arms in the air, but whispering yet shouting.

“No, Denise. The boss is Harry.” Denise’s eyes widen and she looks at Mila with such sorrow once again.

Mila has no choice but to drown herself in work. It distracts her from thinking of Harry and the fact that she might not even have an intern position by next week. Yelling at the boss on his first day isn’t really… recommended. The only thing keeping her going is the fact that she already paid the next three months rent in advance. At least that’s something she did not have to worry about. She’s also looking forward to the full moon tonight. Something about that circle in the sky always intrigued her.

The thoughts of Mila and the snores of Steve are interrupted by Griffin. “Steve!” Steve awakens belligerently with a low groan. “Boss-man would like to see you,” Griffin says. Is Harry interviewing for the position now? Mila thinks. She can feel her heart frown as well as her lips.

“I thought he was dead.” Steve says while wiping the crumb out of his eyes.

“New boss. Now wipe that drool off your face and look somewhat presentable. See you up there in 5.” Griffin says as he shoots Mila a small smile and Steve one more glare. Steve does as told and gets up, possibly to rob Mila of her temporary dream job.

Steve hasn’t come back and it’s already past clock out time. Mila has to do last minute touches before she can leave her desk. She skims the window to take in the scenery of the sun setting. The yellows, oranges, and pink mesh together to create intangible beauty, humans barely deserve to look at it. She looks at her reflection and notices that she isn’t the only one there. She turns back swiftly and sees Harry yet again. “Oh hi?” She questions more than says.

“It’s 5:37. What are you still doing here?” He questions while leaning on Steve’s desk.

“I just had to do some work before the... before I leave.” She packs up everything on her desk and grabs her purse.

“Before the full moon?” His voice, light, almost hesitant. “I remember you wanting to finish everything so you can focus on your writing under the moonlight.” He smiles to himself losing eye contact with Mila.

This small talk and walk through memory lane breaks Mila’s heart all over again, but she can’t be mean to her new boss. “Yeah. Anyway, I must go. Good night.” He looks at her directly one last time before moving out of her way.

“Good night, Mila.” She passes him and walks out, not looking back. He stares at her, hoping for one more dose of her brown eyes, but he is left craving.

Now in sweats, fuzzy socks, a Southern Connecticut State sweater and no makeup, Mila sits on her fire escape waiting for the muse of the moon to unleash the breathtaking and wishful words. C’mon moon. Give me something. How about her eyes danced as she searches for… Nope. Human nature is… No. Two years is a HUGE AMOUNT OF...Nada. She can’t seem to focus. All she can think about is how her ex boyfriend is now her boss and she might possibly have to find a new job. Maybe I can work as a barista. I’d be the best damn barista in the… Nah. As if on cue, an unknown number calls Mila. Maybe talking to a tax scammer can clear her mind. “Hello?” Her monotone voice earns a familiar chuckle from the other side.

“Glad you haven’t changed your number.” Harry mumbles over the phone taking Mila back a little. He had saved her number all this time. “Listen, I wanted to apologize if it seemed like I ambushed you with my presence today.” His voice is dim. There is a pause between them. Harry’s side of the phone captures the pops of his fireplace. Harry can also hear the wind howling through Mila’s side. “I’m also sorry that I left.” Those words takes Mila’s breath away. “It was selfish and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. It was never my intention. Seeing you today took me back to before and it,” he gulps before saying, “and it tortured me all day. I just hope we can work past this. Good night.” With that, Mila is left with the dial tone and inspiration.

Her fingers cramp up begging her to stop typing and editing, but she has to or else the moment will be gone. She can see her reflection on the laptop screen and her smile is ear to ear as she finishes up her last line. The moon came through for her tonight like it always has.

The next morning, dreadful. The elevator doors ring as they open up to the third floor revealing Griffin. “Mila! Yes, Mr. Styles has been looking for you! Go upstairs and meet him right away.” He chimes pressing the fourth floor button and walking out, barely giving her time to acknowledge him or even breathe.

She does as told and walks slowly toward his office, and of course she can’t help, but to take a peek into the new editor’s office to see if Steve really got the position. As she peers in, her eyes spot Harry sitting on the desk with his legs up revealing his Chelsea boots and his phone in his hands. Confusingly, she enters capturing Harry’s attention. “Mila!” Taken off guard, he stumbles back with the chair and falls over.

Mila rushes to his side in a fit of laughter. “Oh my God. Are you okay?” She asks in between giggles. Harry joins her with a chuckle that’s infused with a groan of pain. She looks at him and extends a hand, “Need help?” She questions. Harry smiles and accepts her kind gesture.

As soon as the chair is back into place, Harry commands Mila to sit in it. She awkwardly does as Harry goes around to the leather chairs across the desk. “How do you feel?” He asks while sitting down slowly.

“I think I should be asking you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She now seriously asks. He nods and points to her with his hand, directing the question back to her. “Well, I feel pretty good. Why?”

Harry can’t hide the huge smile any longer and says, “I’ve considered deeply who deserves this editor position and you earned it.” Mila’s face doesn’t know if it should smile, roll her eyes or frown. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am. I would love this job, but I can’t help but think that it’s because of our history. Therefore, I do not want it if it’s coming from you.” She wants to earn this job and she genuinely believes she did, but it seems so given to her if it’s by an ex.

Harry stands up, flabbergasted at what she just said. “Mila, look it was between you and Steve. Kelsey doesn’t work here so we ruled her out. Steve? Snoring Steve?” He knows about that? “He was fired yesterday because of the five hour security footage of him sleeping in the janitor’s closet.” He comes closer to Mila’s desk and leans over, using his arms to balance him leaning over Mila’s face. “You were the only who came close to earning this position. If you even think for one second it was magically handed to you because of some past feelings, you’re wrong. This is a business, so do your job.” Harry says sternly and turns around slamming his office door. Mila believes that she has earned this job after what Harry said, but how he said it makes her feel a fire in the dark places of her heart. He didn’t have to scrutinize her in such an impassioned form. I’m taking this job, she thought, and then I’ll take his. Whoa there, Mila, what happened to the plan?

The next few days involve work and longing looks between Harry and Mila that morphs into rolls of eyes and scoffs. They haven’t spoken since Harry’s big blow up and to be frank, Mila doesn’t mind not talking to him. She’s done it for two years, she can handle it. You know who can’t? Big boss man Harry. He can’t stand watching her and not being able to speak to her, so he enters her office. “Yes?” She acknowledges him without looking directly at him. He hasn’t step foot in her new office since he gave her the job and now realizes that she has made it her own. The original poetry on the wall he recognizes from times Mila would read to him at night. The empty shelves were now stacked with her favorite books from To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee to Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell. On the pale gray wall there are wooden picture frames that matches her desk with her family in them. She looks up when she realizes that he hasn’t said a word and it is because he is in awe of how much this empty room changed within days. “Yes?” She asks once more.

“Oh, well I was stopping by to apologize.” He says nervously playing with the sleeves of his button down.

“You’ve been doing that lately.” Mila puts her pen on the desk heavily to place her attention on him.

“I didn’t mean to explode like that. I just don’t want there to be a problem between us because of our past. I owned up to my mistakes and you still treat me so cold. Can we both grow up and put this behind us just to have this a decent place to work.” He says, finally letting go of his sleeve and making direct eye contact with her. He can almost feel himself burning from the inside out with the look she’s giving him.

Mila sucks her teeth and contemplates before she nods her head toward the door, signifying him to close it. He does as so and turns to her as she walks around her desk and sits on it. She crosses her legs and let out a breath. “I would love to, but in order for that to happen we must clear the air. Talk about everything and then leave it behind. It’s the only way I can move on and I’m betting the same thing goes for you.” She feels proud handling this so maturely. It’s true, she wants to get along for the sake of their jobs.

He inches closer and sits on the leather couch. “Do you want to start or should I?” He looks up to her gaze and fights the urge to remove the strand of loose hair covering her eyes.

“Well…” She elongates the well and raises her voice high and hops off the desk walking toward the window wall that has the most perfect view of the busy streets and billboards hoping the flashes of light and speeding cars would distract him a bit.

“What did you do?” He tilts his head while his eyes dilate.

Mila hesitates before saying, “I was just so angry at you and I-I…”

“Mila,” He warns.

“I called the board and said that you called me on my personal phone late at night and I found it completely inappropriate and I’m sorry.” She rushes her words and turns to Harry, who practically jumps off the chair causing it to scrap the floor.

“You what?!” Harry snaps and looks at her in disbelief. He inhales deeply and exhales loudly.

Mila can feel her face heat up because of the embarrassment of her retaliation toward Harry’s outbursts. “We can fix this. All I did was leave a message, they probably haven’t heard it.” She says.

“It’s useless.” He whispers putting his face in his hands. “Hopefully I’ll just get a warning or something.” Harry knows a warning is far from reach. Calling an employee of the opposite sex late at night and suddenly giving her a job promotion in his first two days isn’t really a great impression. Harry knows his job was on the line, but he doesn’t want to worry Mila.

“No, no. I have a plan.” She has that determined look in her eyes that Harry is all too familiar with. He begins to protest, but Mila’s brain is already calibrating. There is no stopping her now.

They both make their way to the elevator and head toward the second floor where the board member's offices are. Mila ignores Harry’s pleas to stop her from getting him in anymore trouble. “Okay,” Mila says. “We can’t let them see us or they will know somethings up. We have to crawl past front desk and see where they forwarded my call.” Mila knows her plan sounds strange, but 78% of the time they work, which are good odds for her.

They did as so. Mila leads the way and Harry follows her past the front desk. Harry respectfully attempts to keep his eyes toward the floor and not toward Mila. Mila’s positive that Harry’s tight pants would have ripped by now. They continue to crawl until they are out of sight. “How do you know they won’t be in their office?” Harry questions with a whisper.

Mila tries to come up with a softer way to say, I called again today to report you, but the front desk said they would be in a meeting until eleven. “Not important.” That works, too. “Now check those offices on the left and I’ll check the right ones. We’ll cover more ground.”

There are five offices Harry and Mila must check and only seven minutes to do so. The first office for Mila was dark and only lit by what she assumes was a blueprint mistake. The light source is a small and narrow window place awkwardly on the far left corner of the office. Mila tries to keep her mind on the plan, but the multiple cat painting hanging on the wall distracted her just a tad. Focus Mila. She tells herself over and over while nearing the phone. She picks it up and dials 1, which automatically directs her to the voicemail box, but no luck. The second one for Mila is also a dead end, but Harry’s second one is the winner. He feels the need to listen even though the little voice in his head tells him not to. Which is me. DON’T DO IT HARRY. IT ISN’T GOOD. He ignores and listens to the message.

Hello, I would love to speak to a board member. My name is Mila Castillo and I’d like to report one of your employees. My new boss and I have history. I tried to keep it out of my mind, but I can’t. Especially with him calling me at an unreasonable hour on my personal phone. It was completely inappropriate and I’m hoping you can deal with this. Thank you. Call me back.

Harry’s breath feels like it’s been punched out of him. He deletes the call and walks over to the door, but upon opening it, Mila runs in and shuts the doors. “Board members! Hide!” She whispers. Harry opens the supply closet filled with coats and brooms and grabs Mila by the wrist, pulling her in with him. As soon as the door closes they can swear someone entered. Mila and Harry have no choice but to stand chest to chest in this small supply closet. Mila looks up at him, “Did you find it?” Harry only nods and looks away from her eyes. “And you listened, didn’t you?” Mila wants him to shake his head no, but based on his current expression she already knows the answer. He nods again. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I…”

“You were right.” He announces in a faint voice, cutting her sentence short. He moves back into some coats, maintaining a few inches from Mila. The silence in the closet makes Mila want to wish herself out of the situation, but wishful thinking can only go so far. Once Harry realizes there isn’t anyone in the room he leaves in a hurry. Mila stays in the closet a little longer hoping to catch the next elevator up.

Harry has been in his office all day with a closed door and Mila feels guilty. She can’t help it. Harry’s words keeps entering her mind as she tries to work; Can we both grow up and put this behind us just to have this a decent place to work. They echo repeatedly until she finally builds up the courage to knock on his door. A deep, “Come in.” is her cue to enter and so she does.

She walks into Harry’s office slowly and sees him looking out the gigantic window that matched Mila’s. He turns to her and offers that false pressed smile that no one wants. Mila closes the door and it vibrates the whole room. “That’s a heavy door.” She says chuckling the awkwardness away. Or so she thinks. Little did she know her chuckling summons more awkwardness. “Okay, I still think we should talk in order for us to work.” She speaks her mind and only hopes he would do the same.

He looks at her and nods, “I do too.” Mila grins, but it soon turns back into a straight line when he says, “When should I schedule our appointment.” He sits down on his chair and pulls himself closer to the desk to take a look at his calendar. “I’m free tomorrow after lunch.”

“Appointment? This isn’t some business deal, it’s about us.” Mila argues.

“You were right. On the phone. It was completely inappropriate and I’m your boss.” He says with such conviction. Mila cannot believe what she is hearing. She scoffs as she turns around and walks right out of the door, slamming it harder this time.

At home, all Mila can do is lay on her bed and think. She looks up to the white ceiling and throws her pillow up then catches it. The bed squeaks every time she uses all her force to throw the fluffy pink pillow up with both hands to the ceiling, but it fails to touch it every time.

Once she gives up, she grabs her phone. She looks at her recent call list and looks for the unknown number Harry called from nights ago. She presses it and breathes out preparing to have the talk with him. Unfortunately she gets his voicemail; You’ve reached Harry Styles. Please Leave a message: “Hey, hi. Listen, um. I’m sorry. I know what I said on the voicemail must have affected you and I didn’t mean them. I was just mad. I get mad and retaliate, you get mad and explode. We’re not perfect. I’m still getting used to this boss and employee relationship and still trying to figure things out. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I sat on my fire escape and contemplated if quitting would work, but you’re right. We both earned these positions and the only way to get through this rough patch is to talk it through and leave nothing in the air. So schedule me for tomorrow after lunch please.” Mila giggles at that last part and hopes that Harry can find it in his heart to not leave her guessing in the dark on where they stand.

The night falls and the moon isn’t as radiant as when it’s full. Especially with the fog and the rain. Mila thought the pitter patter on her window would help her focus, but tonight lightning accompanied with thunder ruined the mood. Mila blames her horrible writing on the night sky. She attempts to write on paper, but soon realizes why she hated it. Crumbled pieces surround her on the gray covered bed and hardwood floors. Her mini trash can from five below overflowed with loose lines of poetry. Her mind yearns for a break from this depressing session. She finally agrees and goes into her kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge. As she chugs it down, she grabs her phone from the kitchen charger and realizes that she has 2 missed calls from the unknown number. She curses under her breath and attempts to call him back, but it goes straight to voicemail. She hangs up and regrets her willpower and rule of no phone while writing.

Unexpectedly a knock appears at her door. She goes to open it and reveals a drenched Harry. She takes a moment to figure out her words, but Harry comes in abruptly. “I can’t wait until tomorrow at lunch.” He says dripping on to the floor. Mila didn’t care that he’s making a mess at this moment. She closes the door and turns to him. “We need to talk and you said fire escape in your message so I was hoping you still live here. Can we please talk?” He says breathlessly. She nods and drinks the rest of her water to calm her sudden dry throat.

After Harry changes into Mila’s extra large SCSU shirt that she would normally sleep in and her brother’s basketball shorts that he left the last time he was here, she lit the fireplace and gave him a blanket to get him warm. He protested on all of that, but Mila was not letting him get hypothermia on her watch. After putting his clothes in the dryer, she finally sits on her plushy couch, joining him. “So,” She starts off, “let’s talk.” She leans her head on her hand which rests on the top of the couch.

Harry admires her soft features he hasn’t seen in years. The fresh face girl has rosy cheeks and plump pink lips that are foreign to him now and he can’t take it anymore. What other reason would he have to walk in the rain than to tell her his feelings that he has been fighting the moment he saw her again. “I,” He says barely audible. He looks at her eyes getting more than a dose and he’s suddenly in a trance. Mila snaps her fingers in his face returning him back to reality. “I left.”

In a flash, Harry remembers the day particularly. Mila and him were a few months in to their relationship and were at a good place. They were never in love, but almost there. Harry and Mila started working straight out of college as interns in a publishing office. It was exciting, adventurous, perfect. Almost like high school where the principle can’t catch you sneaking around. They were both hard workers though and that did not go unnoticed. They were both recommended for the manager position in Eastern London. Harry was the one that got it. Mila would have been supportive of her boyfriend, but what Harry doesn’t know is that Mila dropped out of the running so Harry can have the opportunity of a lifetime. She believed their relationship was strong enough at this point to overcome obstacles such as distance, but she wasted a wishful thought. Unfortunately, what Mila encountered was Harry leaving without telling her. Slowly they became emotionally distant to complement the physical distance. It was simply easier to forget about each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mila’s eyes become glossy as they relive one of the most heartbreaking part of both their lives. The tears threaten to come down, but she puts her chin up and tries to gain control again.

Harry can’t look at her because he knows if he does, he’ll break. His eyes stare at the warm flames trying to distract himself, but once he hears her gasp through the tears, he crumbles. “I knew you gave up that job.” He admits. She looks at him with such confusion. “That’s why I left, because I knew that you giving up that job meant…” He can’t finish that sentence because the fear of him being wrong all these years haunts him and it just can’t be true because leaving would have been for nothing.

Mila sniffles as she calls his name for the first time since she found out she was his employee, “Harry?” He shuts his eyes moments before turning toward her and having a tear stain his pale cheek. “It meant I loved you.” She confesses. Their eyes now can’t look away from each other. “You were scared that I loved you?” She questions.

Harry nods and bites his bottom lip trying to fight back anymore tears before saying, “And I didn’t know if I loved you so, I left.” The truth behind his words makes Mila feel peaceful inside. She isn’t wondering what she did wrong anymore. It feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Harry finally feels like he can breath thin air. “And I’m really sorry. Walking into your office today, I noticed that a lot can change in a short amount of time. You decorated it and it look unrecognizable. Maybe we both are too.” He says removing a piece of hair that always manages to cover her eyes. She takes her hand to return a favor and wipe his tear with her thumb gently.

“Maybe it’s good. A fresh start. It seems like we need it.” While their hands touch one another slightly, they never want to let go of each other or the moment. “So,” Mila chuckles lightly, this time comfortably with no awkwardness at all, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Harry smiles and tells her to go on, “I know you’re my boss and everything, but can I not call you Mr. Styles. I mean it’s weird, isn’t it?” He laughs along, placing his free hand to his chest as if he’s having a laugh attack.

“Harry is fine.” He smiles at Mila and lets go of her hair finally

While waiting for Harry’s clothes to dry, the romantic comedy, The Kissing Booth, played on her living room TV, keeping them busy. Mila decides to grab her laptop and give writing another chance tonight. She sits with Harry on the couch and types away. “My God Mila, don’t you ever take a break?” Harry teases. Mila retaliates by throwing him a throw pillow. He lets out a whine, “Hey! Just because it’s in the name, doesn’t mean you should throw it!”

Just then, the dryer buzzer goes off and Mila puts her laptop on the ottoman. Harry watches her walk to the hallway with a smile plastered on his face. His eyes look down toward the laptop which has her files open. He doesn’t mean to pry, but if a file had your name on it, wouldn’t you? He grabs the laptop and open the Harry files. The last update to it was 5 days ago, when Harry called Mila. He opens the document and the little voice returns; HARRY C’MON! DON’T DO IT, but Harry doesn’t listen.

Bitter green eyes.

Ones that burn you from the inside out.

You disintegrate and put your molecules back together.

Just to be broken again.

Pall pink lips.

Like all the others.

You melt and become lost at sea trying to find yourself.

Just to be lost again.

-Mila Castillo

Harry cannot fathom what he just read. He turns as soon as he hears a creak coming from behind him. He makes eye contact with Mila and she automatically knows what he’s done. “Were you snooping on my laptop?” She puts the basket of his clothes down on the dining table and places her arms crossed against her chest.

“Did you really mean those things about me?” Harry stands up still utterly shocked at her piece. He walks toward her. “Mila, what was all that about? Bitter green eyes? Pall pink lips? Is that really how you felt about me just days ago?” He questions towering her now.

Mila maintains her position and her eyebrow furrow as she states, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but that’s my priva…” Harry’s lips connect with hers, cutting her off. Surprised, Mila’s eyes open wide, but closes slowly as she melts into the kiss.

Harry grabs her waist pulling her in closer and Mila wraps her arms around his neck playing with his brown curls, pulling him closer also. She feels the kiss activating every single part of her body from the hairs standing up to the tingles in her spine. Harry pulls apart gently leaving Mila begging with her eyes, but keeps their foreheads connected as he whispers, “I guess your poetry is fictional.” They smile at each other for a little bit before reattaching their non pall lips.

In that moment Mila realizes that the full moon isn’t her only source of power. The words to describe this sensation of warmth between their bodies run through her mind as she pulls him closer by the hem of the shirt. She might have loved him at one point and this kiss may be epic, but the truth is she is living in the moment and hoping to forget it tomorrow when Harry is her boss once again.

Harry, drunk off the kiss, stumbles a bit trying to secure his balance. He pushes Mila into the wall gently to help him obtain good footing. Although, this is taking lots of focus from Harry’s part, he can’t erase the fact that he left something out of the story. He came back and the only reason he would ever come back is because he still loves her.

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miairviin · 5 years ago

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Ciao

Ciao! Viva Italia! And more importantly, Spaghetti and Gelato! I am currently writing this entry while in the beautiful city of Rome, Italy. This marks the first trip outside of Greece and it could not have worked out any more perfect. After a quick afternoon flight we arrived at our hostel at around 8pm. The immediate vibe was summer camp, probably because of the tight quarters and the bunk beds that lined our wall. That being said, we are very fortunate to have a private room that the six of us who came to Rome are sharing for the next few nights. We were absolutely famished so we took to the streets to try and find some dinner. Google maps coupled with Yelp has thus far definitely been a key player in our food related adventures. But that particular night we were let down by the pair multiples times. Finally, we stumbled on a restaurant called Il Tunnel. We were driven into the quaint restaurant in part by frustration, but mainly by hunger. That being said, I could not have asked for a better first meal. I was able to go halfsies with Madeline and we had Penne allá Vodka and a Marinara pizza. Words cannot express how good that food tasted. Sure we were hungry so hot garbage probably would have tasted good. But that vodka sauce....the VODKA sauce! If it was socially acceptable, I would have slurped that sauce right off the plate with a straw. And the pizza with its crispness and the tomatoes, the garlic, the cheese. I did not deserve that pizza. Once we were stuffed, we took a quick trip to Google translate where we learned “Il conto por favore” so we could get our check.

Once we left, we were faced with another instance of technology letting us down when we needed it most: on our quest for gelato. It seemed we attempted to find every single gelataria in Rome that night. I was so stuffed from dinner, gelato was not something I was jonesing for but after every failed attempt to locate a gelataria, the craving only seemed to grow. By the time we just so happed to turn down a random street and saw the glorious glow of a front window lined with bins of gelato, my heart was soaring. Madeline and I again went halfsies and split a mystery flavor the gelato man picked for us. If I had to take a guess, it was dark chocolate. Truth be told, I didn’t care what it was. It was downright dangerous how decadent it was. But the taste of triumph was so much sweeter.

The next morning we were up by 7 and within the hour, we were standing before the Coliseum. It was so huge, so awe inspiring. Through all of the wars and all the leaders and all the triumphs the city has faced, this site has managed to stay standing. It was hard to balance the idea of the Coliseum and it’s architectural accomplishments and overall glory with the fact that people died very gruesome deaths there and those deaths were celebrated as sport.

Next, we spent a few hours wandering through the Roman Forum and Paletine Hill. The sites were beautiful and you could practically feel the hustle and bustle of ancient Rome as you meandered through the paths once used as a market. Fragments of life there still remained in the form of statues, sculptures, and religious artifacts.

We refueled at a small bistro where I had my first Italian coffee of the trip. Sorry Greece, this one has to go to Italy. The richness, the bitterness, the sweet edge from the chocolate drizzled over top. There really is no competition.

From there, we ventured to the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. Both were so ornate, so beautiful, so breathtaking. I was truly not prepared to feel so small when standing and looking up through the hole of the ceiling of the Pantheon. Or how full of joy I would feel as I threw coins over my shoulder in the hopes I would one day return to this city.

But the highlight of my trip was Via de Leutari 29. As a young woman, my Mamamá lived in Rome for three years and with the help from my cousin who studied in Rome while he was in college, I was able to track down her old apartment at Via de Leuarti 29. It was less than five minutes from the Pantheon and a stones throw away from Piazza Navona where we had dinner that night. I did not to expect to get emotional, but it was a surreal moment for me. The entire time I was in Rome, she was on my mind. Had she walked down this street? Was this shop there when she lived here? Did she drink coffee at that cafe? Standing in the alley she walked through every day made me feel so much closer to her. I even made sure I brought along a scarf she knit so in a way, she finally made it back to Rome too.

The next day we got up even earlier, dragging ourselves to the station to catch the first metro at 5:30 in the morning to catch our 6:02am train. I say 6:02 precisely because those 120 seconds were quite valuable to us, as we were literally taking our seats as the train pulled away. It was a close call, but we were on the train and bound for Florence, Italy. My beautiful friends had constructed an amazing and efficient itinerary for these days, so once we got off of the train, we headed straight to see David. The entire museum was filled with religious and historical art that bent my mind with its detail and color and precision and accuracy. My mind is still filled with all of the different paintings and the sculptures I passed by. But David did indeed steal the show. He stood so much taller than I had anticipated and the early morning light showered him in a soft glow. An image that will stay with me for a very long time.

After David, we set off to find the Duomo. After Delphi and Rome, I had grown accustomed to being shocked. But nothing could have prepared me for the Duomo. The cathedral so ginormous I could not fit it into a picture. There was painstaking detail all over, from the statues that lined the roof and corners to the intricate exterior. We agreed to return later to go inside and see what it was all about.

Madeline, Tiana, and I wandered around the city stopping to admire the architecture and the views and flipping coins to decide what street to turn down. These are the days I cherish. The days where we have nothing to do but be and enjoy. And be and enjoy I did. Florence was beautiful with its random spurts of greenery and the green shutters of orange apartment buildings or blue shutters on coral buildings or red shutters on yellow buildings. It was eclectic, looking almost as if someone mixed and matched every color imaginable to construct the skyline and alleyways. We joined up with the rest of our group later that day where we found an absolutely gorgeous lookout spot for the sunset. We saw the entire city. The tops of churches, the tops of apartment buildings, and the tops of business all sitting on top of the river below. Another view I will not soon forget.

Then we returned for Duomo. This took a little bit of smarts because there was a mass going on and we had seen the security out front turn away eager tourists. But we were getting inside that building. Being the good Catholic girl I am, I just politely walked up and pointed inside and asked “Mass?” The guard beamed brightly and beckoned me inside. I genuflected and took a seat near the back with my friends and other people who had the same idea as us. Parishioners had already filled in the first third of the pews. The mass was completely in Italian but I was shocked that I was able to pick up on where they were in the mass based on the cues I have grown up with my whole life. The dome inside was a beautifully painted portrayal of biblical images and of course the cathedral was decorated with ornate sculptures and rich paintings. It was another unexpected emotional moment for me as I looked up at the dome full of images I have been looking at my whole life. Now, I was looking at them in the Duomo in Florence, Italy. About as unreal as it can get.

Dinner was right outside of the cathedral and after eating, we made our way to the train station. According to my pedometer, I had taken 29,611 steps and walked 12.4 miles. In other words, I am exhausted but in the best way possible. Tomorrow is our last day in Italy and for that we venture back to Rome, and again, thanks to my beautiful friends (especially you, Allie!) we have a packed itinerary with a day that promises more steps and more sites.

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intergalacticsuperstar · 6 years ago

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starsholland’s ultimate fic rec masterlist

Okay so I’ve always wanted to do this, so I scrolled through my likes for two hours and reread all of my liked and saved fics/imagines to share with you all. As a bonus, I included some of my awesome comments and opinions. (Let’s be real the list would be better without the comments but you are getting them anyway). But honestly, every one of these writers has so many awesome writings that I didn’t include, and I, therefore, recommend that you all check out their masterlists and read away. I included different pairings like Tom Holland, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Harrison Osterfield, and a couple others. Enjoy.

Tom Holland Fics/Imagines/Headcanons

@imagines-dreams - Stunts

This is an imagine where Tom and Haz fly you out to set and show you around. It’s super cute and there’s even a part 2 and Tom saves you when a stunt goes bad. Just really adorable.

@wtfholland - untitled prompt imagine where Tom finds out you’re getting hate

I would honestly recommend anything Sara writes, but I really just love this one. Tom is such a sweetie in this.

@amxliapond - Proud

This is cute because Tom takes care of you when you’re drunk. It also reminisces on a 3 year long relationship. Gets kind of heated at the end but a super sweet read.

@ohholyfanfics - Not Gonna

short and sweet and super fluffy

@cuteparkers - scared

I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs when the soulmates refuse to be together. I love it so much

@holland-ish - Without A Word

The angst is so real. This is the first imagine I’ve found where the reader isn’t dumb after someone cheats on them. This is also just a beautifully written piece.

@madmadmilk - Bad Taste

You can’t really go wrong with anything on this blog, but I find this one to be really extra amazing. Tom is so jealous but it all works out in the end

@kiera-hastings - A Night at the Oscars

Okay I actually love this so freaking much. It has so many notes so most people are probably like DUH. But, if you haven’t read this: stop what you are doing and read it. It was especially awesome around the time of the Oscars but it’s still so so good.

@kathscribbless - Drunk on Your Love

Nothing like Tom drunk dialing you in the middle of the night. I freaking adore this piece.

@gab-spidey - Royal Pains (Royal!Au)

Tangled...but better.

@something-fanfiction-ie - Falling Hard

This is actually a three part series and it’s one heck of a rollercoaster. Lots of ups and downs and turns jammed packed into three pieces.

@whyistomholland - Safe

Y/N has an abusive father and Tom is basically the most supportive guy ever. I want to give him a hug at how awesome he is in this.

@so-many-freaking-ships - HC of when tom is being grumpy and cute

Cuddly Tom. A-dore.

@h-osterfield - Remember When

Probably my favorite fic right now. It’s long and so developed even though Tom is an idiot like the WHOLE TIME. But, that’s alright, it’s still amazing.

@cutesparker - lovebug

Clingy Tom being all cuddly and cutesy. SOoooo cute.

@curlyboyholland - I’m Always Here

I cannot express how much I haTE Dylan. I may be a bit biased but ARENT WE ALL?

@peeterparkr - 3 lies

I’m pretty sure there are only 2 lies so far, but this is a super interesting concept. It’s a fake dating fic...but it’s totally obvious they both want it to be real

@parkeret - Famous In Love

You mean an entire fic about Tom being a dad??? Sign me up.

@dorkyparkers - before it ends

Cinderella....but better.

@yukowrites - Our Dystopia

This gives off serious Divergent vibes. Has a lot of development to go through, but still seems really interesting.

@holland-haven - Movie Magic

The DRAMA in this is so intense. I’m super excited to see what this develops into

@dibs-on-holland - Honestly Feel So Attacked Right Now

I honestly just feel attacked by how cute this is

@spidereyhes - The Princes and The Pauper

I LIVE FOR THIS. No, but really, this is such a unique story. I can’t wait to read more. Also, Harrison is a huge part in it SOOOOOO

@toms-order - Tom dating a deaf reader

This is just an adorable headcanon. Read it. Love it.

@hexingholland - Chasing the Truth.

Okay actually this is the COOLEST IDEA EVER. I’m actually ticked off I didn’t think of this myself. There’s only one chapter (I believe) so far, but the reader is a ghost that’s trapped in the Holland household. Very excited to see how this continues.

@stardustaty - what’s it’s like to be at airports with tom and on airplanes

Another adorable headcanon

@softspideys - Stay

A 4+1 imagine that is just...it’s just so great.

Peter Parker Fics/Imagines/Headcanons

@softspideys - Are you okay?

I’m not okay after this. So real and emotional and cute.

@softboy-holland - xanax and field trips

A cute piece where Peter’s class goes on a field trip to the compound where the reader is. Basically, Cori has a lot of awesome stuff. I could’ve put like five of her things on here. Another one I reallly like is just a kid but just check out everything.

@marriedtopeterparker - All Grown Up

COFFEE SHOP AU. Sort of... BUT STILL. So far there are three parts, lots of backstories, fluff, and just amazingness.

@infamous-webhead - Dear Stranger

Yes.

@oh-my-holland - Okay Again

Post infinity war struggles that make your heart hurt for peter :)

@heckin-good-holland - A Different Fight

So. much. angst. The angst burns and sizzles all the way into part 2 where it lights your heart on fire.

@starksparker - Still Having Nightmares

Some more angst that hurts but read it anyway it’s beautiful in the most horrible way

@thekillingquill - Prove/Disprove

Since I just seem to be loving angst on this list, here’s some more. Science shows that THIS HURT ME and probably will you too.

@hollandroos - Bullet Wounds

More angst that has one punch in the gut ending. Such awesome writing though even though this is mean to my heart

@dr0wning-in-hell - sick

Super sad scenario when the reader has cancer. Peter Parker and Tony Stark help and make me smile even though the situation is horrible.

@toosicktoocare - seriously anything written on this account is gold. I could never choose just one. These are their spiderman stories. I read all of them in one night and regretted nothing.

@marveloussupernatural - Personal Pillow

Finally some fluff on this list. This is just a super cute imagine with a touch starved reader. Peter is there for them in the middle of the night.

@so-many-freaking-ships - Found You

Soulmate AU where everything you write on yourself appears on your soulmate. Need I say more?

@revengingbarnes - Keeping Secrets

The classic “coming out as Spider-Man” story. I particularly like this one because the ending is really cute.

@minnie-marvel - Crown Fell

This is such a unique story. The reader is Thor and Loki’s sister and she now has to go to school with Peter.

@officialtessaholland - Catch Me If I Fall

Everything about this is amazing tbh. Lots of ups and downs and cuteness and just overall a great imagine.

Others

@thehollandtrinty - the charger (Harry Holland)

Angst, but oh so good

@h-osterfield - You Keep That Photo Of Us In Your Wallet? (Harrison Osterfield)

Harrison gets a little jealous prompting him to finally fess up his feelings. Amazing writing as always

@spidereyhes - Soft (Zendaya)

So so so so so so wonderful. Beautiful beautiful story. 100% recommend.

@starlight-parkers - The Report Card (chatroom)

Okay, I’m going to be straight up here. I did not think I was going to like this, but by the end, I was cracking up. This is seriously so great and unique and just a fun read.

----

I’m going to attach my masterlist on here too because I CAN aha. Jk ignore this if you want, but here’s my masterlist if anyone wants to check out my writing. I’ll also probably add to this at some point.

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areluctantsblog · 6 years ago

Text

Music AU - part 1

Au where Tony Stark is a music producer & the owner of Avengers Entertainment, Peter is a multi-instrumentalist British jazz musician and War Machine is a progmetal band. In other words the starker fic in which Peter smirks a lot and Tony remains astonishingly oblivious for a long time.

All characters 18+

(If anyone’s interested, here’s what i was listening to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/user/tdaehi9xumogtle8iljnpahpi/playlist/00rIJxgBEZDRHV5dUh1iMB)

Enjoy :)

Morning

Waking up feeling drained and with a mild headache, Tony Stark half regrets having fallen asleep at all. He prefers an all-nighter to jet-lag anytime, even if he has an important business meeting in the afternoon.

Deciding that more sleep would only make him feel worse, Tony gets up. When, even through the haze of exhaustion, his mind manages to conjure up the image of the coffee shop he saw across the street last night, his worries that jet-lag seriously damaged his cognitive functions ebb away. The promise of almost-immediate caffeine intake and the possibility of avoiding the hotel restaurant – which Tony does most of the times – make it almost easy to drag himself through his morning routine.

As he walks toward the café half an hour later, Tony passes a music shop and sees a handsome young man enter. The sight almost wakes him up properly – something that a cold shower and the crispy winter air couldn’t achieve – but Tony shakes his head and goes for his coffee first. On his way back, however, he can’t resist entering the music shop. The young man’s still there, conversing with the shopkeeper. A regular, it would seem. He wears a suspiciously bespoke-looking deep navy-blue coat. Tony is more intrigued by the minute.

The shopkeeper turns towards him, but Tony waves a hand to signal that he’s good. The conversation picks up and Tony pays careful attention to every world he can hear. Meanwhile he registers the truly remarkable variety of vinyl, music sheets, instruments and accessories the shop offers. When Tony feels sure he’s heard enough to join the conversation, he picks up a random vinyl from the display table and walks over to the counter.

Both men look at him. Tony puts the vinyl down.

“I’ll take this, please.” Then he turns towards Peter. “And, excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing…” Tony thinks he captures the exact moment when his perfect charming smile starts working on Peter. It’s subtle, surprise flashing across his face and an almost imperceptible squint of his eyes, but Tony’s been around for a long time and had both reason and opportunity to learn to read people. “Do you propose, did I get it right? to put hammers? in a piano? It sounds remarkable, would you mind elaborating?”

Tony noticed him glance at the shopkeeper when he praised him, and for a second, they both looked amused, but Peter’s answering smile can’t be described anything but carefully polite.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind, Mr Stark,” he says eventually, inclining his head slightly.

Tony’s surprise at being recognised by the young man must show on his face, because the shopkeeper chuckles.

“We know our music around here, Mr Stark, especially Peter. It’s an honour to have you here, ” he extends his hand and Tony shakes it. The man’s name is Yinsen, which Tony finds vaguely familiar but cannot place at the moment. He’s too excited to find out who the intriguing young man – Peter – is.

Tony remotely notices how good it feels to touch him while they shake hands, but he’s mainly struggling to get back on top the situation, because Peter Parker is definitely smirking now and Tony for the love of God can’t figure why. He comes to his senses when he hears Mr Yinsen speak.

“Will you be needing my assistance with anything else, Mr Stark?”

“No, let me just… how much?”

He pays for the vinyl – it’s one of his own productions, he notices, annoyed – and thanks the man. He’s not confident that his charm has worked exactly the way he intended, so instead of just walking away and expecting Peter to follow him, he actually looks at the man with an enquiring expression.

“After you, Mr Stark,” the young man replies and damn if his voice isn’t honey. “Goodbye, Mr Yinsen. Oh, and I’ll fetch those strings at around 6, if it suits you.”

They exit the shop and Tony inhales deeply. The woody scent of the shop still lingers and as it mixes with the chilly air, Tony gives himself over to the sensation. Then the moment passes, and he realises, they haven’t moved. Peter’s looking at him politely, but his gaze is otherwise unreadable.

“I avoid hotel cafés and restaurants if I can, so I’m open to suggestions,” Tony says.

Peter nods. “I think I know just the place. How do you feel about books, Mr Stark?”

“I’m sensing some serious European vibe,” Tony quips. “Show the way.”

Peter smiles and stars walking.

“So, what is it that you do?” Tony asks as they turn the corner. He can’t help himself, the boy’s idea is the most interesting he’s heard lately, and he needs to find out more about him. About it. Well, really, both if he wants him. To sign a contract, that is.

“I play music,” the young man offers. “I have a band for live gigs, but I mostly write my own music. I also collaborate with other artist.”

“What kind of music?” Tony asks. The boy’s appearance has classical written all over it, but his attitude suggests something unrulier. Something that would explain the cheeky confidence he emanates despite his ivory skinned, wide-eyed British exquisiteness.

“Mainly jazz, but I like experimenting with other things too.”

Jazz. Of course. Tony notices the young man looking at him, waiting for his reaction. So, Peter not only knows his name, but also is familiar with what he does. Sure, jazz isn’t metal, but honestly how could he not be interested?

“Just my luck. I’ll try to keep up though…” Tony smiles. Peter smirks, but doesn’t reply.

After a few steps – his lithe movement really is something to behold – Peter stops and enters a classy looking place. Tony walks in after him and immediately likes the dark panelled room, the deep cherry and blue wallpaper and the stuffed bookshelves. Even though it would never be his first choice, he understands at once why Peter likes it. Tony pushes back the frightening realisation that somehow in barely half an hour, things and places started to feel like this stranger.

The barman greets Peter politely and they take a seat next to the French windows. It feels oddly intimate, not exposed at all, yet Tony still chooses to sit with his back to the street. When their waiter arrives with two menus, Peter turns to him immediately.

“Thank you, would you mind just putting them down, please?”

Tony is speechless. He was mentally preparing to be handed something and wishing with all his might that he could resist flinching and then this, this complete stranger goes out of his way to save him from it. When the waiter walks away, Tony says quietly:

“Thank you.” The ‘How did you know?’ goes unsaid, but Peter seems to read it from his gaze.

“I noticed that Mr Yinsen didn’t hand you the change and since he knows everyone worth knowing better than anyone I know… well I took a guess.”

Tony feels a bit shaken, but Peter’s smile, that is gentle for the first time, reassures him.

“You guessed right,” he says finally. Then to steer the exchange towards safer grounds he adds. “We’ll see how quick our waiter friend is on the uptake.”

Peter hums. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that here.”

Even though the twinkle of Peter’s eyes is far too knowing, Tony lets out a relaxed laugh. They choose their drinks in silence and it gives enough time for Tony to go back from anxious to intrigued. Once they’ve placed their orders, he leans closer to Peter and says:

“Now, Mr Parker, tell me for real this time who you are and what you do.”

Peter chuckles. “While I’m flattered, Mr Stark, I really don’t know what else to say.”

It’s infuriating how he appears to be completely honest. It’s reflects the perfect mixture of modesty and confidence that Tony recognises from true and rare professionals. Tony lets out a frustrated groan but before he can say anything rash, their drinks arrive. Tony is grateful for the interruption, for it gives him a few moments to think. Strategy, he needs strategy. He might as well have stumbled upon some young prodigy, the next genius of jazz and if so, he simply can’t let him slip through his fingers.

“I’ll take it that you are a pianist?” Tony prompts.

“Well, I play the piano, the double-bass, the saxophone, the guitar, some percussion, but I prefer to edit my rhythms and noises on a computer.” He says it all so nonchalantly, that Tony needs to make an effort not to gape at him. Still, he’s a moment too late in responding and something both amused, and apologetic appears in Peter’s expression.

“So, when you said earlier that you write your own music, you also meant that you record it all by yourself as well, didn’t you?”

"Most of the time, yes, but sometimes my band helps."

“Do you have a name?” Tony asks unthinkingly and he realises his blunder as soon as he sees irritation flash through Peter’s face.

“Sorry if it’s not showbiz enough, but you already know it, Mr Stark.” He’s tone is mocking, but Tony feels there is an edge to it.

“It’s not a bad name. How come I haven’t heard it before? Young prodigy and all that.”

“Come now, Mr Stark, do you put such great trust in every no name stranger you meet?" The young man seems amused and there is also something very much like satisfaction in the hint of a smirk he wears. Despite his light tone, however, Tony still feels embarrassed. He almost started explaining himself. Almost…

“Only those whom I catch talking about hacking an instrument,” Tony winks at Peter but then turns more serious. “So what’s your story? Someone must have realised your talent early on.”

“Maybe they have, I don't know. In my family, it’s quite usual for children to learn to play an instrument. At first, I had music teachers, but then I've taught myself. Actually, I tried to avoid being discovered. I've spent my whole life surrounded by music and I've learnt early on to tell if someone still enjoys playing or have burnt out on their way to fame. I didn't want to burn out. Still don't."

Tony huffs, shaking his head in both disbelief and fascination. The boy is becoming more of an enigma by the minute. Rarely has Tony encountered such disinterested honesty and he hasn’t even realised that he missed it.

Peter just smiles at him and sips his tea. All of a sudden, Tony finds himself devoid of all disguises. His skin is tingling with some new and rousing sensation. For a few minutes he feels, rather than sees the young man before him and he’s still busy trying to unravel the effect Peter has on him when the young man speaks again.

"So,” Peter begins tentatively. “Would you like to talk some more about my plans for the grand piano?"

Tony nods eagerly. "Yes, please."

Their conversation lasts for over an hour. They discuss Peter's idea and Tony may not have been so excited since War Machine' s debut album. He can't refrain from making suggestions even though they don't work together. He hopes it’s only a matter a time before they do. Tony's engrossed and he's dying to hear Peter play and to see his ideas come to life.

He might even have forgotten his meeting, the one that was actually scheduled for him there, in London, if it wasn’t for Peter suddenly announcing that he has to leave. He stands up swiftly and before Tony can figure out a way to ask him to meet again, he’s already taken his coat. Before leaving though, Peter steps back to their table, places a note under his saucer then stops in front of Tony with hand outstretched.

Tony is breathless as he stands up – they are so close now – and accepts the handshake. They stand like this for a moment longer, eyes locked, excitement, curiosity and something more, something perplexing flicker between them. From a distant corner of his mind Tony hears the faint voice of his rationality tell him to ask Peter when they can meet again, but he seems to have become temporarily speechless. Peter lets go of his hand and walks to the door. Before stepping out, however, he looks back.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” the feigned innocence of his voice is betrayed by his smirk. “I play tonight at 8 on the Steamer. I wouldn’t mind if you came.”

He leaves and doesn’t look back to see the grin that spreads on Tony’s face despite the twirling mess of panic, relief, anticipation, confusion, desire, impatience and self-consciousness inside him.

[Disclaimer: Peter’s idea is not his, nor mine. I was inspired by the amazing duo called Grandbrothers. Check them out, it’s the perfect music for this fic.]

There's a part2 now (11-02-19)

#starker #music au #my contribution to the theme #part one #to be continued #confident peter parker #oblivious tony stark #playlist #mine #a reluctant writes

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