#miss girl is outright flirting with him!!

[knotaprobdaddy]

the romantic (and sexual!!!!!) tension between Oliver and Felicity in s2 is WILD but i’m also obsessed with how much confidence Felicity gained between seasons

[tropes-and-tales]

Good Girl

Day 2:  Dry humping (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; praise kink; smut (dry humping; outercourse; whatever the youths call it now - clothed grinding and such); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2996

AN:  This is loosely related to the very loosely-formed Seresin cousin mini-series, found here. It was requested for Kinktober by @justreblogginfics!)

You and Bob continue your little dance for months.

You know the man likes you.  Every time you fly into town to visit your cousin Jake, Bob is always nearby, staring at you on the sly like a lovesick puppy.  He’s always just at the edge of the group gatherings—nights at the Hard Deck, parties at Nat’s house, afternoons at the beach—and you always feel those big blue eyes tracking your movements.

Everyone else notices it.  Harvard and Yale corner you at the Hard Deck, ask if you’ve noticed that you have an admirer.  Nat pulls you aside at her barbeque and obliquely gives you a rundown of Bob’s numerous good traits.  Only Jake holds his tongue, but you catch him narrowing his eyes at the WSO enough that you realize even your cousin—your cousin with his penchant for being self-centered, the handsome narcissist with the blinding smile—has noticed Bob’s crush too.

Bob never makes a move.

Nights at the Hard Deck when you blatantly lament being single.  The party at Bob’s house where you stayed behind to help him clean up.  The little touches you chance:  brushing your hand against his, a light hand on his shoulder, friendly hugs…they are an invitation, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

It’s Rooster who clues you in.  The man takes your hand one night at the bar and tugs you outside where the ocean crashes along the shore in the darkness.  In the dim light, you can just make out the man as he peers down at you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says.  “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You catch the white of his eyes as he rolls them.  “C’mon.  It’s obvious you like Bob, but you gotta make the move if you’re interested.  You gotta be blatant with him.  He won’t get it otherwise.”

“Why not?”  Your stomach twists unpleasantly; you wonder if perhaps you’ve misread the situation.  Maybe Bob has a crush, but maybe it’s just a crush, and maybe there’s someone else he loves and this is just a passing bit of madness—

“Guy’s a brilliant wizzo, but he’s clueless with women.”

Now you roll your eyes at Rooster, and he chuckles at the gesture.  

“I’m serious!” he continues, and he holds his hands up, helpless.  “I think he misread a situation once with a girl when he was younger, and I think it scared him off of making the first move.”

“That’s a terrible excuse.  I got food poisoning from bad tacos once but I still eat tacos.”

Rooster chuckles again.  “Yeah, but you women can be devastating when you reject us.  I think poor Baby on Board was crushed before and now he’s just a pining little asshole, staring at you from across the bar.”  

You shrug helplessly and glance back into the Hard Deck:  you can see Bob in profile, and you get the impression that he’s just turned away, that he didn’t want to get caught watching you.  Watching you and Rooster together, chatting outside, laughing outside.  You feel a wave of sympathy for what Bob must be thinking—that you’re flirting with Rooster, that maybe Bob has missed his chance.

You turn back to the pilot.  You square your shoulders.  “Okay, I hear you.  I’ll be the brave one.”  A beat as anxiety blooms in your chest, makes your ribcage feel a fraction tighter, makes it just a bit harder to draw a full breath.  “And you’re sure he likes me?  You aren’t misreading this somehow?  I don’t want to look like an idiot, Bradshaw.”

He laughs outright, and he hooks an arm around your neck to pull you into a friendly hug.  

“Ah, kid, he loves you.  You make the first move, he’ll probably go ring shopping next weekend,” he says, and he lays a smacking kiss on the side of your head before releasing you, shoving you gently back towards the bar.

-----

You may be confident, but that confidence doesn’t always extend into your romantic life.  Still, you decide to be brave.

You make the first move.

When you go back into the Hard Deck, you notice that Bob seems quieter than usual, and you guess that he saw the hug, the friendly kiss between you and Rooster.  You guess that he is drawing incorrect conclusions about what he thinks he saw, and you hate to think of him suffering needlessly.

You sidle up to him, and you feel another wave of tenderness towards the man when he turns to look at you—still with that soft smile on his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes despite what he must be thinking.

“It’s too noisy in here,” you say close to his ear.  “I was going to take a walk on the beach.  Do you want to join me?”

The hope in his eyes turns blatant.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  You wanna go?  C’mon.”  You don’t give him a chance to stammer his way out of it; you thread your arm through his and tug him towards the door, and he follows you without any resistance. 

You catch Rooster’s eye, then Nat’s as you leave.  The former tips you a knowing wink.  The latter gives you a nod, and she lifts her glass in a salute.

You don’t release him until you’re at the water’s edge, and you bend down to untie your sneakers and peel out of your socks.  He hesitates a beat then joins you, and he rolls up the pants to his uniform so that his shins are bare.

The two of you walk along the shore in silence for a bit.  It’s one of the things you like best about Bob—how he lacks the braggadocio to always talk, to always fill up every bit of silence with the sound of his own voice.  You know he’s perhaps more shy than the average person, but he doesn’t seem undone by it.  He seems comfortable just to be himself:  quieter than most, willing to sit back and watch.  

Case in point:  you hold your shoes and socks in one hand, and you take his hand with your free one.  Maybe he’s nervous, but his palm is warm and dry, not sweaty or twitchy.  If he’s nervous, it’s not obvious.

And he breaks the silence, after a while.

“Growing up in the Midwest, I never even saw the ocean until I enlisted,” he says.  

“Same,” you reply.  “I mean, growing up in Texas, we went to Galveston a few times, but that was technically the Gulf, not the ocean.”

“You like it?”

You feel the water lapping around your ankles, the give of the sand underneath your soles.  “I do,” you admit.  “There’s something really peaceful about it, and I love poking around at low tide and looking for sea glass.”

He glances at you, and you can hear the teasing in his voice when he replies, “I’m gonna tell Hangman that his cousin only visits him because he’s stationed along the coast.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you even realize you’re saying them.  “Maybe I only visit Jake because I like one of his coworkers.”

The light-hearted feeling of the moment deflates; Bob goes silent.  He takes a beat to reply, and when he does, his voice sounds strained.

“Bradley.”  It comes out curt, two quick syllables.  A statement, not a question.

You shake your head, let out a grumble of disagreement.  Up ahead, you can see the outline of a lifeguard station, painted white and rising ghostly out of the night.  You want to sit with him and finally talk with him, so you tug his hand and lead him there.  The two of you sit on the steps, side by side, hips touching and facing the ocean.

“Not Bradley,” you tell him as you pick up the thread of the conversation.  

“I saw you tonight—”

You shake your head again, cut him off.  “He wanted to talk to me,” you tell Bob.  “About you.”

You feel him go rigid beside you, and he huffs out a frustrated breath.  If there was more light, you’d see the furious blush that breaks out across his face, but it’s dark enough that you can only guess at his embarrassment.

And now that you’ve opened the Pandora’s box, you can hardly take it back, so you plunge forward.  Usually confident, you’re glad for the darkness too—you hope it hides your shaky hands, your inability to turn and meet his eyeline.

“I think you’re great, Bobby.  Honestly.  I thought you were handsome the moment I met you, but then I got to know you, and you’re quiet but you’re funny and sweet, and I was giving all these signs that I was into you, but nothing…I mean, I like you a lot and it’s just…”  You trail off, lose your words like an idiot.  You hadn’t enough time to rehearse this in your head; you just grabbed him at the Hard Deck and dragged him out here, and now you’re fumbling it completely.  You drop your head and swipe your sweaty palms along the sides of your shorts, and you take a deep breath—

You hear his soft “hey,” and then a split second later you feel his warm hand on your face, tilting your head up and turning you to face him, but nothing on earth could prepare you for the way Bob Floyd kisses:  gentle but firm, only a bit hesitant.  His lips are soft, and he breathes out a quiet groan when you reach up and lay your own hand along the side of his neck.

Your thoughts go fuzzy.  Your concentration—all the words you were fumbling to say—is shot, but when you try to break the kiss to finish what you were saying, Bob shakes his head faintly and mumbles against you lips.

“I know,” he says, and you can hear his accent breaking through.  “I know, honey.  Me too.”

Then he kisses you again, firmer this time, and a moment later, when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you open yourself to him, allow him to taste you.  You taste him too, and Bob Floyd tastes like the grenadine-laced Coke he nurses each night at the Hard Deck, never much of a drinker even on the rowdiest night.

If nothing could prepare you for the way he kisses, then certainly nothing could prepare you for how sweetly dominant he is, how perfectly he walks the line between gentlemanly and not.  Your clumsy confession must have given him the wherewithal to take charge, and you’re surprised when he puts a hand on your waist and gently urges you to turn towards him…then how he just as gently urges you to climb onto his lap.

It doesn’t take much urging, you find.  You’ve been ravenous for months for this exact moment, and you had thought it’d never come.  You break away long enough to study his face—this close, and with the faint light of the half-moon in the sky above you, you can see his wide blue eyes, his parted lips as he gazes back at you.  You don’t see any hesitancy in his expression at all, but then he breathes out, “please, honey” and he squeezes your waist, so you clamber onto him with no grace whatsoever, but neither of you care because the moment you’re settled on him, you bend your head to kiss him again.

As it turns out, maybe Bob was just as ravenous for this moment too.  He puts his other hand on your waist too, draws you closer to him, and you can feel the nudge and brush of his growing erection against your inner thigh.  He makes a strangled, pained sort of groan in the back of his throat the first time you touch him there, and his hands spasm on your waist, grip you tighter before he schools himself and apologizes.

You break the kiss, slow the moment down.  You cup his face between your palms and hold him steady, tilt his face up towards yours.

“Bobby, why didn’t you ever say anything?” you whisper.  

He shakes his head against your hold and offers you a rueful grin.  “Didn’t think you were interested.”

You snort and press a light kiss to his forehead, then another few to his cheeks, the tip of his nose.  You can feel how flushed he is under your lips.  

“You think I just randomly hang back at parties to help the host clean up?” you tease.  You shift your head, whisper the words in his ear, and you note how he squirms under you.  He’s growing harder, even at your playful kisses.

“Just thought…ah, just thought y-you were bein’ nice.”  His accent comes out stronger, and his hands squeeze you tighter again before he loosens his grip.  “You’re always so…so nice to everyone.”

“I’m nicest to you,” you point out.  You kiss a trail along the line of his neck, and he tilts his head to grant you the space.  At his pulse point, you can feel his heartbeat thundering away there, so you bare your teeth and nip him—not enough to hurt or even sting, but he groans out “shit, honey” and wraps a strong arm around your waist, hauls you right up against where he’s straining against his uniform for you.  His other hand finds the back of your neck, and he draws you to him, kisses you breathless as he guides you against him, sets a steady, rocking motion against him.

It's too much:  the way his clothed erection hits you just right, how he pushes you back and forth, over and over, until you are so wet that you’re certain you’ve soaked through your panties and your shorts.  Everything feels sensitive, swollen, but he keeps guiding you, lifts his own hips in time to the rhythm he sets.  It’s too much but it’s not nearly enough, and you wish you’d known how this entire evening was going to unravel because you would have just taken him home instead—

“This good?” he asks.  His face is tucked against your neck; you’re a fraction higher than him, perched in his lap, and he works his mouth almost lazily against your neck, your throat, the underside of your jaw.  He has one arm around your waist, holding you tight to him, but his other hand settles against your ass, kneads you there, digs his fingertips into the fat of your ass like he wants to own you.

You start to make a joke about being surprised to find he’s an ass man, but then he dips his head, works an open-mouthed kiss right where the swell of your breasts begin.  You whine at the sensation and thread your fingers through his hair.  You hold him there, and the desire coursing through you—the sharp ache between your thighs, the prickly-hot flush across your skin—makes you feel fuzzy, light-headed.  You remember he asked you a question, so you answer him, nod hard and mumble yes, he’s making you feel good, he’s making you feel amazing, but what about him?

“Don’t worry about me.”  He nips at your collarbone, runs his tongue along the line of it, dips his tongue into the divot at the base of your throat.  “Wanna make you come, honey.”

Hearing those words come from his mouth makes your desire rachet up higher, hotter.  You grip his hair harder, whine out his name, but then he adds, “you gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

There’s no way he could have known of your praise kink, so it’s just a lucky guess, but the unexpected phrase—my good girl…fuck if it doesn’t make you cock-drunk and stupid.  No other guy really ever cracked the code of that kink for you.  A few had made half-hearted attempts when you mentioned it, but Bob Floyd stumbles over it immediately, and your mind goes blissfully blank:  yes, you want to be his good girl.  Yes, you want to come for him.  Whatever he wants.  Anything he wants.  Everything he wants.

You let go of your hold on his hair, and you cup his face again, tilt his head up so you can kiss him.  “Yes,” you whisper just before you slot your mouth over his, push your tongue against his, kiss him so deeply that you’re sharing the same breath, mapping the inside of his mouth with your tongue, memorizing every bit of him you can.  Yes, yes.  Yes to all of it.

Mind blank, your pleasure overtakes you:  you feel the heat and friction from where he sets you grinding against him, you feel the bulge of his cock hitting you perfectly, and every bit of him—his subtle cologne, the soft feel of his hair, the quiet little groans he makes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you—pushes you close to the edge.  You teeter there, you ride him faster, the seam of your shorts pressing deliciously against your swollen clit, but it’s his words that push you over.  His quietly domineering orders.

“Come for me,” he whispers, and it’s a harsh, punched-out sound that makes your stomach swoop when you hear it.  “My good, sweet girl.  Come for me.”

Your orgasm breaks around you like a wave, and Bob releases his hold on your ass to draw you closer to him, let you ride it out as you shudder against him.  Both arms wrapped around your waist as pleasure sparks outward from your core, travels up your spine and courses through your limbs until your head is swimming and he’s tucking you against him.

“That’s it,” he whispers into your hair.  “Good girl.  So fucking good for me.”

And all you can respond with is yes, yes.  Only for you, Bobby.

[i-am-mldy]

Back to my nalu brainrot years later so here are my headcanons on how nalu should develop if Mashima actually writes them properly:

Lucy sees Natsu as her best friend but does think there could be potential for more. She just actively pushes the idea away because it doesn't seem possible. She doesn't want to wait around for him and waste time, so she's long accepted how they currently are. It's not so bad anyway, cus their friendship is just as valuable to her. She doesn't need anything different as of now.

Natsu doesn't really think much about romance, relationships, etc. But he's not an idiot (canon you have no power here). All he knows is that Lucy is different than his other friends. Aside from Happy, he likes being around her the most. He doesn't really think about kids, but finds himself daydreaming about having one with Lucy, which he does not do with the other FT girls. He's scared to lose all his friends, but the thought of losing Lucy sticks around the most. She's different to him, he knows that, but struggles to figure it out because it's all new to him

Idgaf what the manga says. Natsu still likes pranking Lucy but has grown considerate of her. Lucy, however, learned from him and pranks him back. It has become a game now of who can tease the other better. Lucy likes playing around with her best friend, while Natsu just loves seeing her smile.

Happy has seen a change in Natsu in his treatment and feelings towards Lucy but doesn't know how to bring it up. He also sees Lucy's lingering looks of longing that she adeptly cuts short whenever someone notices. He'd rather they figure it out for themselves.

Their development would be gradual (but not nonexistent as it is in the damn manga). No dramatic confessions, just a bit of pushing from Lucy and a bit of opening up from Natsu. Lucy finds herself wanting to be closer bit by bit despite her earlier reservations, as Natsu's slowly figuring out how he feels for Lucy. Fortunately, Natsu doesn't need to say much for Lucy to understand what he means.

Their dynamic stays the same, just more mature and emotionally intimate. It comes to a point where they don't really need to verbalize it to know they're both it for each other, their first and last, forever.

At this point, the pda really begins. How Natsu teases Lucy now is outright flirting and dirty jokes, which flusters Lucy every time, especially when they're with the team. Lucy soon discovered that the best way to get back at him was through physical flirting — running her hands across his chest and stomach, playing with his hair, touching his neck. It drives him absolutely crazy and she loves it.

Natsu's protectiveness now bleeds beyond their fights against enemies and into simple social encounters with other people who so much as look at Lucy weirdly. This annoys her, but inside, she finds it sweet and attractive. On the other hand, Lucy tries to act nonchalant whenever she's jealous in order to save face, but the team can clearly see through her facade. Natsu, unfortunately, constantly misses all the hints, so Lucy ends up conceding anyway.

If they were attached at the hip before, they're absolutely glued to each other now. Natsu outright refuses to go anywhere without Lucy, and only she can convince him otherwise. The two now always share a bed/sleeping mat. Whenever they walk around, their hands are always intertwined. The most shocking of all, Natsu shares his food with Lucy; lets her take a bite from his plate all the time.

He tried to get into reading for her but quickly got bored of it, so she thought of reading to him instead. This seems to be much more effective, to the point the two often discuss their thoughts on what they're currently reading. This almost always turns into heated debates, with Lucy repeatedly trying to explain her point with solid evidence from the text, and Natsu just not getting it.

In that same vein, Lucy offers to spar against him. What Lucy lacks in physical strength, she makes up for with tact and sheer magical prowess, so they're often evenly matched, with Natsu winning the most by just a small margin mainly due to his stamina. Regardless, what matters most to him is how much fun he has with her. Also, their sparring helps him with his impulsiveness and temper since he has a safe outlet for his pent-up energy now.

It took a while for their teammates to adjust to their evolved dynamic. They're mostly shocked that Natsu had the brains to even make a move, but they can see how the two have matured with each other. Hence, they're truly happy for them.

Years down the line, Lucy moves into his house, which he spent months renovating to accommodate her. The first few months are pure chaos as they adjust to sharing the same space, with Natsu increasing his pranks and Lucy trying to avoid every single one, and Lucy constantly wanting to rearrange furniture and Natsu grumbling as he mostly does the heavy lifting, but both cannot express enough how happy they are to share a home.

The thought of proposing just suddenly comes to Natsu one day. After pondering on it for a few days, he asks her out of the blue as they're idling in the house. Lucy is shocked, stares at him, then laughs out loud when she realizes he's 100% serious. He gets flustered and self-conscious as she's doubling over, but before he can ask what is so funny, she kisses him and says yes. He grins and hugs her tightly as they laugh and kiss.

They have a simple ceremony near the guild, but things quickly turn chaotic as their friends from all over visit to witness the ceremony. Their honeymoon is spent traveling and adventuring. They pull a Sasuke and Sakura by coming home with baby Nasha OR with Lucy heavily pregnant because she wants to give birth in the guild. Either pushes the entire guild into absolute chaos, but the two wouldn't have it any other way.

Will add more soon! Feel free to comment and add your own

[itsmarsss]

chicks dig musicians, kid [Miguel Diaz x Reader] (Cobra Kai)

[~from the vault~]

There's something going on between the two of you, Miguel is sure of it. But where does he go from there? How is he supposed to ask you out? So he goes to Johnny for advice.

Word count: 1,780

Warnings: literally nothing its so cute and sweet and innocent yay past mars

[. . .]

Things had been different for a while now. He could just feel it.

Miguel didn’t know when things changed, when the platonic teasing turned into borderline flirting, when his eyes started to dart from your eyes to your lips in the middle of conversation, when you started to look away with an embarrassed smile when he stared at you for too long, when he started to barely listen when you talked because all he could think about was how close you were and how easy it would be for him to kiss you right that second and how much he really, really wanted to do it but never did- but he was 100% sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He was well-aware of the fact that his love-struck brain could just be exaggerating everything, and, sure, he was a bit dense, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew something was definitely going on, to the point of getting teased about it to no end by his friends: the newfound tension and the sudden awkwardness were pretty hard to miss.

The thing is: where do you go from there? Miguel has always been pretty straight-forward (even though he didn’t really look the part) so why was it so hard to find a good moment to ask you out when he was pretty positive you’d say yes?

Waiting made it far, far worse. He thought maybe he’d give himself time to figure out a way to do it. Hey, maybe you’d even end up asking him out first!

You didn’t.

Every day that passed he found himself staring more and more, lost in daydreams of kissing you, making you laugh, kissing you, holding your hand, kissing you.

Was this why you’d been avoiding him the past few days? He wasn’t dumb. It’s not like you were outright taking every opportunity you could to get away from him, but also it’s not like you were exactly taking any opportunities to hang out just the two of you like you used to do. Was he being too weird? Too pushy? Oh god, was he acting like a creep?

Standing back was not like him at all, and it was not doing him any favors- he had to know once and for all.

So he went to his Sensei for advice.

Johnny was holding a beer can when he opened his door. Not an unusal sight. “What d´ya want?”

“I really need your help but you can’t make fun of me.”

“Can’t promise that,” he replied with a smile, and made way for Miguel to enter, which he did. “Ya want a beer?” he asked as Miguel sat down on the couch.

“No. Please focus."

Sensei Lawrence just shrugged, standing by the kitchen counter. “So what is it? Your mom find your porn or something?”

“What- no! Why is that the first thing you thought of?”

“Happened to me,” He shrugged again, nonchalantly.

Miguel made a face in disgust. “Please let’s not talk about that when you’re dating my mom.”

“Jesus, kid, what are you, a nun?” Johnny laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Okay, whatever. What happened?”

“I’m really into this girl.”

“She hot?”

Miguel made a point to ignore the question. “She’s really cool and I think she likes me too.”

“Is. She. Hot?”

“Sensei- yeah. Okay, she’s really hot.”

“Nice.”

“Can I go on now?”

“Sure.”

“Okay so we’re friends, right. And we’ve been friends for some time now but I feel like we’ve been flirting? But never really doing anything about it. But I want to.”

“So? Just ask her out.”

“I know that! But I don’t know how to.”

“Thought you were more of a ‘just ask’ kind of guy.”

“I- I am! It’s just, I don’t know what it is, it’s easier when you don’t know them that well, you know? Cause like why would she not make a move after all this time? Maybe she just wants to stay friends. And then if she rejects me then what?”

“Then why would she flirt with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“What, I’m not telling you-”

“Y/N?” He guessed, and Miguel wasn’t fast enough to hide his surprise.

“How’d you know?”

“Guessed. But your face made it pretty obvious, maybe work on that.”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Look, you know what you gotta do? You gotta not be a pussy. Make her like a giant fucking poster and ask her out at school, girls love that shit.”

“Um I don’t think she’d like that. Seems like... pretty embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing if you’re not a pussy about it.”

“Do you have any… less public option?”

“Oh you want a real intimate option?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively, which was an extremely disturbing scene to witness.

“No- oh my god, please never do that again.”

Johnny laughed. “Just play her a song or some shit. Set the mood. Then ask her out. Chicks dig musicians, kid. That's a fact."

“But I don’t play anything. Or sing.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that? Now come on I got things to do,” Johnny motioned for him to get up, and he did so.

“You do?” Miguel asked, not really believing it.

“Don’t question me!”

Miguel put his arms up in surrender, walking out the door.

The rest of his day was spent desperately trying to learn the chords to some song he’d seen you listen to once on his mom’s old ukulele. It wasn’t going well. He looked at the time, 7:43 PM- it was getting late. He would have to make do with what he had. He wasn’t delaying this any longer, he was doing this tonight.

He took about 15 minutes to figure out what hoodie to wear and 10 more to fix his hair. He walked up to your house with the ukulele in hand, feeling nothing short of ridiculous. He wondered if maybe he should have waited until he was a little better at playing. Still, he kept on walking until he reached your front door.

To his luck, you were the one to open it. Thank fucking god. “Miguel?" You raised an eyebrow, a little confused at the scene in front of you. He hadn't texted telling you he was coming over and you couldn't for the life of you come up with a reason for the ukulele he held in his hand since you knew he'd never ever played one in his life.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Uh, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t rude, just curious.

Maybe he should have warned you he was coming.

“Uh I was just- wondering if I could show you something.” He held up the instrument in his hand.

“Like a song?”

“Well, yeah. If you want.”

“I didn’t know you played.” Actually, you knew he did not play.

“I didn’t. I uh. Picked it up today. Just wanted to show it to you."

“Okay, yeah. Come in.” You were still visibly confused. Maybe he should have planned this better. Or, like, at all. You made way for him to get in and closed the door behind you when he did. You walked up in front of him, taking his free hand and leading him upstairs. “Come on.”

You entered your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed, Miguel hesitantly doing the same, sitting down right beside you.

“Okay. So what are you gonna play?”

“Uh you know that song you like? The one you were listening to when you were training after practice that day? That Hawk was like telling you to skip and all?”

You laughed at the memory. “I guess.”

“Yeah that’s uh- that’s what I’m gonna play.”

He was feeling way too self-aware now. Maybe coming over to perform a song he was yet to learn correctly was not his brightest idea. What was he thinking?

“So?” You pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. There was no way he could back down now. Shit.

He played the first chords and started singing. It all sounded deeply, extremely wrong, and he knew it. It was terribly bad, pure chicken scratch. If voice cracks had voice cracks, that’s what they’d sound like. He barely got through the first chorus before stopping himself from any further embarrassment. He’d made a point of not looking at you while he played, but finally mustered up the courage to after he stopped.

He couldn’t say you looked too impressed. Just… amused, at best.

“I started learning it this afternoon, so…” he sheepishly tried explaining himself, scratching th back of his neck in embarrassment. What the fuck did you just do, idiot?

“Oh it’s uh- it’s pretty- pretty good for something you learned in just a few hours.”

“You can say it’s terrible, I just wanted to- I just wanted to show you. I picked the song ‘cause you like it so much.”

“It’s not terrible! It’s a great song. And it’s pretty cool that you learned it because of me.”

There was an awkward silence that followed. This moment, right here, right after he finished playing, was when Miguel imagined he would be asking you out. You'd say yes, maybe you’d kiss him if he was lucky. But the Miguel in his head had done a great job with the song. The real him… well, the real him obviously hadn’t.

“Why did you wanna show it to me?"

He was taken aback by the question. He decided he’s best be honest, now that he knew he officially had no chance with you. Acording to Sensei Lawrence, chicks dig musicians, and he clearly was no musician whatsoever. He sighed. “Honestly?”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

“I really, really wanted to ask you out. But I didn’t know how to do it, so I went to Sensei for advice. I know. He said girls like musicians so I thought I'd do something cool and play you a song you liked. It obviously didn't work,” he laughed, defeated.

You were quiet for a moment, processing what he just told you. “You learned a song I liked just to ask me out?”

“I know, it’s dumb, and obviously I ruined the mood with the bad singing, but-”

You kissed him. He was rambling like an idiot and he’d just given you the worst ever serenade of all time and you kissed him! He wasn't even able to react, just looking at you with his eyes wide as you pulled away as quickly as you'd leaned in. You kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, holy shit!

“I thought-”

“It's cute that you'd do that just to ask me out. And you didn't ruin the mood. Now ask me out!” You said, excited, now sporting a dumb smile he thought was just the cutest thing ever. Could you please just look at him like that all the time?

Miguel couldn’t help but mirror your excitement, grinning like an idiot. Damn him if he didn't do as you asked. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

“As long as you don’t ever try to serenade me ever again.”

“You said it wasn’t so bad!”

“I lied."

“You still kissed me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

[. . .]

A/N: while i don't have what im currently writing for miguel out yet here's a really old little thingy i have of him as a little treat! it's cute and sweet to make up for all the sin of the current wip <3

[missyandthemisfits]

Thinking about the toman guys (and anyone else) with a reader who is naturally pretty/beautiful. Looks like a literal angel but they’re mischievous af. Like they never get caught because they look so innocent. Like how could their little angel ever beat up some girl who tried flirting with them? Like literally brat. Petty af and instigators. Lmao

A/N as a demon in disguise myself 🫣 non-chan I am VERY happy you sent this! 

Sweet Angel

Mikey's eyes widened a bit at meeting Angel girl, but then he smiles and approached her with relative ease, telling her outright how beautiful she is - some girls are intimidated by the invincible Mikey but strangely enough, Angel is not, giving him an angelic smile. It's a little blinding. Everything from her movements, to the way she interacted was just ethereal to him and he could literally just sit and watch her operate for hours. He's pretty quick to ask her out honestly. Thinks the dynamic is a little wild until he hears about Y/N one day from some girls passing by on the street, one a lot worse off than the other, both teary eyed and clearly frustrated. He stops and questions them and they hesitate, looking over their shoulders before their faces scrunch up. They don't explain much only that they "Really shouldn't be talking to him" and ran off, prompting more questions. On his way to fetch Angel he thinks he's got it pieced together.

"Y/N. Those girls from the other day, did you-,"Mikey almost misses the smirk but it's gone as he does a double take. She finally turns to him but there's something alot less sweet in her cherry smile. 

"Hmm? Not sure what you might be referring to, Mikey-kun!" 

And things get alot more interesting for him, truly all about it his wicked Angel.  •

Draken was a pretty straightforward kind of guy, someone who would tell you if something was right or wrong, someone who would chastise you for taking things further than they probably should have gone - it was for this reason that Angel decided to keep him out of the loop on this particular occasion. He was almost taken aback by how pretty this Angel was but had a sneaking suspicion there was more to her than what she presented. He was right of course and this suspicions were confirmed when instead of "getting upset" about the girls flirting with the taller boy as if she wasn't there, she kept a smile on, going as far as grabbing the girls hands and pulling them along with her. The girls never came back but Y/N looked much more relieved somehow.

"Friends of yours?" 

"Not at all." She smiles but her tone was as direct as ever, "Ou, there's an ice cream stand over there! Can we get some please??" 

She pouted and he relented, silently sweating when he caught the sight of her bloodied knuckles, dainty hands placed almost stealthily into her sweat pockets. 

He worries a lot more that he lets on about the Demon-like Angel, but she knows that already.

•

Mitsuya is loaded with patience and understanding, kindness and warmth really not that common within his circle of friends and acquaintances. He takes notice of her beauty instantly, but is coy about it, not wanting to scare the (seemingly) innocent girl off - he was technically a delinquent after all. He enjoys getting to know her; her kindness, her sweet nature, her ability to nurture those around her - but even after they started dating, there was this gut feeling, something he can't quite put his finger on about her, something important he feels is a missing piece of the puzzle that is Y/N. He's working on some sketches for a new design he's been playing with the idea of when a couple very eager girls approach him. It wasn't uncommon for some of his classmates or even some of the younger girls to try and worm their way into his life on a very... personal level, but he was always quick to shut it down, politely of course. These two underclassmen hadn't quite got that message though- Y/N wrapped her arms around his middle, eye contact never once breaking with the girls, stern as she said "He's spoken for." They're so intimidated they drop a few papers on their way to the door, of which Angel is happy to return, arms around the girls followed by a hushed tone.

"The next time you lot decide to try and take something that doesn't belong to you, I won't be so nice. Understood?" Had he heard that correctly? 

Y/N is starry eyed and playful as she heads back over and he raises a brow. 

"Should I be worried...?" She shakes her head, placing butterfly kisses on his fingertips.

"Just girl talk~"

Part of him is really flattered someone so pretty would be so possessive over him, the other part is a little worried about the other girls. 

Angel is full of surprises. 

•

Hakkai was a hard sell, awkward and uncomfortably shy, especially around the effervescent Angel - who was he to even speak to someone so gorgeous? To look at her? But after many attempts on Angels part at breaking the ice, and many more swift kicks from his beloved older sister, there was a breakthrough and a relationship was born not long after the friendship was finally established. He was so very sweet, so gentle - when he actually got the nerve to touch her, that is. He was always so hesitant about it, never wanting to cause her any sort of harm. There were times other girls approached him, random ones - and though it was rude, he didn't really interact with them at all, their poking and prodding in vain. Y/N had of course taken it upon herself to handle the situation, unknowingly. He'd heard various rumors about his Angel; A true Demon in disguise but it was nothing he could vouch for, not having seen it personally. He chalked it up to bullshit and hearsay, nothing more - a pack of petty jealous strangers. And why would she ever trouble her sweet boyfriend with the goings on of a few wayward girls? He had enough to worry about. 

Ignorance is bliss as they say, and his Angel made him incredibly happy - that's all that mattered. 

•

Baji had only really had 2 crushes in the entirety of his life; one in primary school and one in middle school - neither of which he confessed to. Those crushes were nothing compared to the intense feeling in his chest at just the sight of Y/N, an Angel among men. It was downright embarrassing and he kicked himself out of his daze, forced his breathing to settle, and ignored the fluttering in his stomach when she approached him all smiles. 

"Keisuke Baji, right? I've heard a lot about you - you're cuter than they say. Wanna go out sometime?" 

And just like that, they were an item, a power couple if you will. Truthfully, any response even hinting at him focusing on school died on his tongue, just so taken by her beauty and her boldness. He was doomed from the start. His arm is around her waist so much there are people who actually think it might be glued there - nope he's just very into showing her off. That said, there exist girls/women who would try to take those who are already taken, not very smart on their part... one of his subordinates rounds the corner, sprinting to Baji and saying something along the lines of "Someone is fighting Y/N" his mind goes almost blank as he pushes past him only to come to his girl's side and realize there's nothing to see. Her hands are behind her back, all smiles, as the girls in question scurry off, prominent bruises. He's got questions but he doesn't know if she's gonna give any answers. 

Still, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make Angel that much hotter. 

•

Chifuyu for all intents and purposes is very much a dork - and most are aware of that even when he tries his best to be this hard, cool delinquent. He thinks he's gotta be that guy to have even half a chance with the ladies so when an Angel approaches him in a manga shop, he's thrown completely off guard. She's probably the most beautiful girl he's ever seen and he's sweating instantly. Luckily for him, she seems to have a dorky side herself, smiling as she rants about the latest issue of [manga name]. The fact that she's into similar things makes it much easier for him to warm up and before he knows it, he's confessing unexpectedly. He doesn't even have time to stress about the outburst because there's an immediate 'yes' to his ask and he actually goes 'really?'. Thinks he's the luckiest dude to ever live with Y/N on his arm and still can't quite fathom why him, but he tries his absolute best to make her happy, and he really does. He's so entranced by her, grinning like a fool while taking in her beauty, doesn't even notice the lingering touch of another girl, desperate for his attention while she thanks him for his purchase. If looks could kill, Angel might be behind bars, but Chifuyu is somehow none the wiser, even after the rumors start springing up. He might get around to asking about them...one day.

But for now, he really couldn't care less if Angel had beat that girl up or not, somehow writing it off completely. 

•

Nahoya was confident, even when he wasn't - and most people steered clear of the excitable twin, knowing better than to get involved with someone so clearly dangerous. Y/N was not those people. She approached out of the blue one day, completely in awe of the motorcycles parked outside of her parent's bakery/home. He gave her his signature grin, cool despite the heat in his cheeks at her proximity. She was definitely flirting with the older twin - and to no one's surprise, he flirted back. He was almost intimidated by her beauty, her Angel face, but he was never one to back down from a challenge. To his surprise, getting the girl was far less challenging than he thought initially - she was just as into him as he was into her. A total bragger, he purposely shows her off constantly, a lazy arm draped around her middle, fingertips dangerously low on her hips - always testing the boundaries. His Angel does mind it one bit. What she does mind is the fact that every now and then, he entertains the flirting of another, not accepting any advances but not really shooing them away either. It's rather annoying, honestly... He's a little surprised to hear of the hearsay that starts to circulate, the news that Y/N would beat the breaks off anyone who thought they might stand a chance with her Smiley. Curious, he tests this and gets his answers - very amusing answers that he asks her about playfully. 

"Huh? Me? Well I would certainly never hit anyone who didn't absolutely deserve it, but beating people up for no reason is just mean!" She's got this cutesy look on her face but he recognizes that mischievous glint all too well, but he only laughs with a nonchalant 'Sure,sure.' 

He loves that his Angel fights for him, even if it's in secret - because God knows he does the same for her.

•

Souya looks as though he truly belongs in a gang, angry facial expressions giving 'fuck off' without actually having to say anything at all. Any conversation with him though, even one in passing, let's people know otherwise - he was very polite and very kind, though also very reserved. He wasn't exactly shy but the case of Angel was very different for him. He found himself wholly intimidated by her beauty alone, so to find she was also very sweet and loving? It made him something of a wreck internally. He was thrown off balance completely by how nice and friendly she was with him, even at the start. She would always ask for his opinion on things, gift him small things like cellphone straps and keychains, and even go out of her way to greet him and rope him into conversations. He hadn't experienced anything like it before so of course he developed feelings. But alas, pretty girls didn't go for boys like him - or so he had convinced himself. Takes him a full minute to process this Godsent being had just asked HIM out. Nearly shuts down. But sweet Y/N quite literally holds his hand through it - though that doesn't really help steady his heart rate...like at all. He fawns over his Angel like no other, really truly spoiling her with food and gifts galore. He's so very attentive and cuddly (once he gets passed the initial embarrassment) it's honestly the cutest thing. Y/N honestly hadn't expected anyone to flirt with Angry, his expression more than enough to ward people off...but they did. Poor boy doesn't even realize it's happening. He thanks the random girl for the napkins and innocently asks why there's a number on them - Angel isn’t having it. Souya asks about the rumors only after seeing the cuts and bruises on her knuckles, tentatively placing bandaids on her delicate fingers. 

"I only wanted to make sure she knew you were already seeing someone, that's all..." She pouts teary eyed and he's putty in her scrapped hands, assuring her that it was fine and just to be more careful, very flattered by the entire ordeal.

He's so sweet on this Angelic Creature that he absolutely won't do anything about it, but he will encourage a healthier way of expressing her discomfort.

•

Kazutora is a bit of a flirt when he wants to be, but can flip it off just as quickly as he turned it on if he’s no longer interested or just plain bored. It scratches the itch of wanting to be wanted while keeping people at a comfortable distance. Yea, all of that is thrown out the window when he meets a real life Angel in Y/N. He’s great a reading people and can tell when they’re being nice as some fake gesture or show - this beauty is free from all that, which is fairly rare itself. But she takes it a step further, going out of her way to be extra kind to him, through words and actions, somehow giving him a reason to believe in humanity again. It’s actually pretty jarring for him. So much so he takes a step back for a moment or two, only to realize he’s already kind of hooked on her affection and attention (Being starved for affection will do that). Can’t keep his eyes off her, the thoughts of her at bay, and after weeks of deliberation, he confesses and she knows then he’s sort of fighting himself on that. But as always, she’s peachy when she grabs his hand carefully, continuing to the train station. Their first date is somewhere completely unserious like an amusement park or fair. He’s well aware that the girl at the ticket booth is flirting but he just completely ignores it, almost snatching the tickets for extra convincing. She takes the hint but just the audacity - Angel waits for her after work with more than a few words while Kazutora makes his way to a nearby restroom. He’s out just in time to see Y/N waving off a clearly terrified young woman. He puts it together fairly quickly and finds it hysterical.

He’s truly thankful for his Angel, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna tease her about it every now and then. 

•

Taiju is a man who knows exactly what he wants and what he wanted was Y/N. A Godly man, he’s got a thing for good girls - obedient girls you could say. Is actively working on himself as a person/businessman when Angel falls out of the sky – or in this case, stumbles back into his strong arms. He’s pretty surprised but he blinks as Angel apologizes. He assures the beauty that he’s fine and then asks if she’s alright. He’s almost in awe at how unreal she seems, how delicate her features, how sweet her smile. He’s staring with those intimidating eyes and all she does is smile, saying something along the lines of “You sure you’re okay? I can make it up to you if you let me take you out.” He’s got some pretty old-school ways about him so he firmly believes that the MAN should ask the WOMAN out (whatever), but how could he not forgive such beautiful bravery? He was delighted to find this Angel, Y/N, was just as sweet inwardly as she was outwardly. She would give without asking, care without expectation, and it pushed him want to give everything to her, his soul included. Believe it or not, Taiju had received many confessions over the years and although before Y/N he couldn’t care less about any of them, he still turned them down as gently as possible. That said, Angel wasn’t having any of that. Y/N was actually rather impatient at times, waiting right good until Taiju had turned his back before kicking the random stranger in her shin, smile still intact. There was a small yelp but the oldest Shiba only spared a parting glance as his Angel latched her beautiful self onto his arm once more.

Whatever damage his Angel caused was of no consequence to him, for everything she did was for his sake.

[black-amortentia]

Under the Mistletoe with Remus

Professor Lupin x Professor!Reader

--

Christmas was in the air, and the preferred way of older students to celebrate was snogging under mistletoe. Teachers took points and handed out detentions when things got too heated, but you were much more lenient. As a newly appointed professor, and romantic at heart, you didn't want to interfere unless a couple was truly out of line.

This was how your classroom came to house a rather large and elaborate sprig of mistletoe. A safe haven for secret snogging, it hung just inside the doorway. You had long grown used to the sight of it, to the point you forgot it was there most of the time.

A knock on the open door drew your attention from the essays you were marking. You looked up to find the friendly Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing in your doorway. He seldom visited your classroom like this.

"Remus! Something you need?"

You stood up from your desk, stretching. You'd been at it for hours, with no end in sight.

Remus held up a book as he stepped through the doorway. "You left this in my office yesterday. Thought I might return it."

"Oh, thank you. I was wondering where that had gotten to." Funny, you were certain you had it in your hand when you left his office yesterday.

You visited Remus a lot lately. Subtle flirting was the nature of your growing relationship ever since the start of term. The two of you danced around whatever was forming between you, little touches, and affectionate words amounting to nothing outright.

Remus's fingers brushed yours as you took the book. Your cheeks grew pink at the contact.

Looking at him now, seeing the mistletoe hanging from the stone above him, thoughts of kissing him kept bubbling to the surface of your mind.

"Quite an impressive display." Remus thumbed at the mistletoe behind him, catching you looking at it.

"You can thank my students for that," you told him, laughing. "I made the mistake of letting slip that I think kissing under the mistletoe is a romantic tradition. They think it gives them a free pass."

Remus chuckled, glancing away. "Yes, well…"

"Something on your mind, Remus? You seem a little distracted today."

"Yes, there is something on my mind, actually." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You."

You faltered, setting the book on a nearby table. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"You're so beautiful, intelligent, kind…" He reached up to touch your face, fingers grazing your flushed cheek. "I have a hard time finding the right words."

You leaned towards his touch, closing your eyes at the sensation. "Those words sounded like a good start."

Remus's eyes locked on yours, your faces tilting closer. There was a pause just before your lips touched, the moment of anticipation hanging in the air.

Then Remus bent forward to kiss you.

His lips were soft and warm, mustache brushing against your skin with a whisper. You kissed him back softly, lips parting.

You'd thought about this moment, but the reality of Remus's lips on yours, surpassed every fantasy you've had.

He held the kiss, grasping at your waist to pull you closer. A hand ran up the back of your neck, cradling your head, fingers curling in your hair.

Your hands found his hips, your hold light and steadying. The kiss was sweet and tender and dizzying, and when Remus finally pulled away, you weren't sure which way was up.

Breathless, Remus touched his forehead to yours. "Then again, maybe words are overrated."

Remus's voice was soft, his breath ghosting over your cheeks.

You smiled up at him. "Maybe they are."

A noise in the hall startled you both, evicting you from the little world of your own you'd fallen into. Remus reluctantly let you go, stepping back.

You peered outside your classroom and into the hallway, finding two Hufflepuff girls, whispering and peeking around the corner. They were both in your class and fancied themselves a couple of matchmakers.

You folded your arms in front of your chest. "Miss Woodhouse? Miss Fairfax? Shouldn't you be packing for your holiday?"

Remus touched your shoulder as he moved past you into the hall. "We'll speak later?"

You answered him with a smile and a nod. The Hufflepuff girls erupted into giggles, looking pleased with themselves.

"Five points," you announced, and they fell silent. "To Hufflepuff. For getting into the Christmas spirit. Now, off with you."

The girls took off in another direction, while your eyes remained fixed on Remus. Feeling you staring, he threw you one more smile over his shoulder.

It was going to be a very happy Christmas.

[literaila]

push and pull 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: 

"how are you today? i'm getting a different aura."

you raise a brow, confused. 

warnings: fluff, awkward reader and awkward peter. coffee shop vibes, a lot of miscommunication, tiny bit of angst 

a/n: what can i say? 

*

peter will admit that when he's working--four times a week eight hours a day--he forgets some social cues. 

like what he's supposed to say when someone complains that their coffee is too hot. i'm sorry would you like it iced next time? i'm sorry when you said boiling i thought you actually meant boiling. or what he's supposed to do when someone makes a joke, but not very well, so he's scrambling for an explanation and they're laughing in his face. ha ha ha, you wouldn't believe how many times i've heard that today. or, especially, what he's supposed to do when a girl is flirting with him--outright, with pretty lipgloss and fluttery eyelashes--but all he really wants to do is get her through the line. 

working with people, in any close or not-so-close contact, results in forgetting how to interact with anyone. or so has peter found out. 

but he's not used to this extent of crossing boundaries. 

because he's typically pretty professional. he likes to smile and ask people about their days, and tell them little ways they can make their drink taste better, but he doesn't ever go too far. he doesn't inquire about where he might find this college girl later in the evening, or ask to be invited to a party he doesn't really want to go to. 

but this, peter knows, is overstepping. 

he's been staring at this girl--at you--for the past ten minutes. and technically, it's not completely his fault because his coworker david accidentally spilled hot coffee all over himself and decided that going home was necessary, leaving peter to take orders, make the drinks, all the while trying to keep his workspace clean. 

so it's not his fault that this line hasn't moved very far up. or that you're standing in it, biting your lip and ruffling your hair every couple of seconds, and that peter can't stop staring. 

you're wearing a sweater, sleeves pulled past your hands, wrinkled at the bottom. you're tapping your foot against the floor, looking around like you're trying not to look anywhere. 

and you're in peter's direct eye line. so at least this--at least right now--he excuses. 

he calls another person's name, sliding their drink across the counter and turning back to the register. even he can tell that his smile is a bit lazy. 

"what can i get for you?" he asks this man at the counter, a frown plastered to his face, while also, of course, stealing a glance at you. 

you're three people away now, and peter can see the tiny furrow between your brows. 

he can watch as your eyes flicker over the words on the board above his head, and you purse your lips. he noticed when you look around, almost apologizing to the lady who bumped into you, before turning back around. your foot is tapping nervously on the ground. 

and then there's someone making a very strange noise in front of him. 

"oh," peter whispers, tilting his head and smiling, sheepishly. "sorry, i just--sorry. what can i get you?" 

he's also, effectively, irritating every person who has walked into the coffee shop this morning. and missing out on twenty-percent tips that he really needs. 

but anyway. 

and by the time you're right in front of him, he almost wants to ask a couple of questions about why you look so nervous. or tell you that he's incredibly sorry for the wait. offer to buy you a scone. 

instead, he smiles. "hi," his voice almost breaks. "what can i get for you?" 

"just a coffee black, please." 

you're not making eye contact with him. to be fair, he's been making enough for both of you. 

"that's all?" peter asks before he even thinks about it. "nothing else? no sugar? or whipped cream?" 

who gets whipped cream on the top of their drip coffee? 

"you're busy," you answer, giving him a tight and short smile. "just the coffee, please. a small." 

"i'd rather you'd get something that actually tastes good than save me a couple of seconds."

you stare at him, blinking slowly. peter watches your chest rise and fall. he can hear your heart pounding. 

"a small black coffee," he says aloud, putting it into the pos. "that's $4.28." 

you hand him a five-dollar bill, fingertips just barely grabbing the corner--maybe so he won't be able to touch you. "keep the change." 

peter's eyes meet yours for a millisecond. he nods, instead of answering. 

and then he turns around, pours you a cup of coffee, and puts a lid on the top. he hands it to you, trying to achieve his usual customer service smile--and failing. "have a good day," he tells you, kind of like a threat. 

you nod. and before you go, peter watches you put four more dollars into the tip jar. 

and then there's a lady frowning, asking him what the hell a breve is. 

*

the next time, peter watches you walk through the door. 

he's sitting in the back, playing candy crush on his phone because it's two pm, and no one's gotten out of class yet, so it's just him--and nina, who is studying for an exam at the counter--waiting for the rush they know is coming. 

so when he looks up, he's not expecting much. 

especially not you in a coat, shivering from the cold and brushing snow off of your sleeve. 

nina hasn't even looked up yet, but peter just stares as you look around, seemingly embarrassed to be the only person in there. your eyes widen, your movements slow, and then you're looking up, towards the bar, and meeting peter's eyes. 

again, eyes a bit puffy and tired. 

you look away, continuing to brush snow off of yourself, and peter watches as you take another step back, your fingertips just grazing the handle of the door. 

he walks up to the register, hand going to nina's shoulder. "i've got it," he tells her, gesturing towards the back. "you keep working." 

"you sure?" 

"yeah, yeah. no problem." 

his game is blinking idly, colorbomb long forgotten. 

and he greats you with a smile, standing at the register like a good little worker, waiting for you to come in. it might be just because he's actually looking at you now--without trying to hide it, or act like a complete lunatic because his eyes are glued to one spot--but you take a step forward, making fists with both of your hands. 

"hey," peter rocks on his heels while you get closer, feeling strangely restless. "how are you doing today?" 

one of your hands falls, fingers flexing. "good. you?" 

"i've only got an hour left in my shift," he tells you, tilting his head while grinning. "so i can't complain. is it cold out there?" 

you nod. 

"i can make you something warm if you'd like. or if you're more cold-blooded, i can make you a smoothie." 

your mouth quirks up, teeth scraping against your lips. "something warm, i think." 

peter is still smiling--because he's an idiot, and it has been a shitty day until you walked through that door, peaking something more than his interest. "okay. do you need a minute?" 

you shake your head. "can i get a hot chocolate?" 

"just regular?" peter asks. "not peppermint or snickerdoodle?" 

"regular, please." 

peter nods, finally looking away, and down, pretending to type something in. "what size?" 

"small." 

"small," peter repeats, still nodding. "okay, it should only be a minute." 

peter makes your hot chocolate, whistling while doing it, and gets a couple of weird looks from his coworker--which he promptly ignores--and then he goes back to you, trying to tone down his smile this time. 

"here you go. enjoy." 

your eyes dart from the cup to him, blinking fast. "i haven't paid yet." you're holding some cash, and your other hand goes to push your hair behind your ear. 

peter shakes his head, scrunching his nose. "don't worry about it. i owe ya." 

"um, you don't--" 

"really. it's on the house." 

you bite your lip, looking away from him. peter almost laughs when you hesitate to take the cup from his hands. but you do, eventually, grip tight. "are you sure?" 

"absolutely," peter says. and he doesn't go back to playing on his phone. instead, he stands at the counter, watching you read something and sip on your hot chocolate. 

and he could pretend not to notice--but he does--you leaving when the rush starts. or you slipping a five-dollar bill into the tip jar this time, not bothering to say goodbye. 

*

you come back at the same time next week. and peter is still there, patiently counting the minutes until he can go home--to his bed for forty minutes and then back to work. 

today though, he's manning the register, and david is making the drinks. 

just a bit of payback. 

and also, he's been waiting for you. not that he'll admit to that. 

but you walk in anyway, backpack keeping your head up, fingers playing with a ring around your pinky. your hair is up--which is convenient for peter, because then he can stare closer at your neck, and see the visible tension of your jaw. 

peter's eyebrows lift as you walk up to the counter. "fancy seeing you here," he says, because he is so smooth. "still cold?" 

"better today." 

"yeah," peter nods his head, shrugging. "no ski jacket." 

your tongue pokes at your cheek, and you look away. "yeah. it's still drying out, so..." 

peter almost starts laughing--because he's pretty sure that was a joke, half-assed and a bit awkward--but refrains, just smiling instead. just leaning against the counter so he can get as close as humanly possible to you. 

"what can i get you?" 

you blow out a breath, looking above his head. and then you glance back at him, almost narrowing your eyes. "are you going to let me pay?" 

peter sighs, then nods. "sure. but only because i'm pretty sure he's watching me." 

he can feel david's eyes on his back. and he can see the glare coming from his eyes, even without looking. 

your cheek twitches. "okay. a mocha, then, please." 

"small?" he reaffirms, waiting for you to nod. he enters it in, mostly just so david will make it while he talks to you, hanging his head. "you like chocolate, huh?" 

you're not looking at him, but peter watches as you swallow, eyes contemplating. "it's almost impossible to not like chocolate," you answer, quietly. "with the phenylalanine and all." 

peter's brow furrows. 

you're looking back at him, eyes wide and guilty. "sorry." 

"no, no," peter smiles again. "that's just funny." 

you tilt your head. 

"because i don't like chocolate very much." 

it's your turn to frown, which again, almost makes peter laugh, but then someone is clearing his throat behind him, and peter looks back. 

"here, peter." 

"thanks," he says, meaning anything but. "here you go. you can drink enough serotonin for the both of us." 

"sure," you hand him a ten-dollar bill, grabbing your cup. "thank you." 

"anytime." 

you walk away, and peter watches just a moment longer. and then he realizes that he never gave you your change back. 

*

peter is not working today. 

which, is unfortunate, because he's almost sure that you're going to show up, eyes wide and nose frozen. and this time, one of his coworkers will get the fortune of taking your order. 

so he has to make the most of his day. going to class and getting lunch and heading to the library to study. 

he's in there, looking for a textbook he supposedly needs for a midterm when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. 

tapping fingers, restless legs, and enough movement to draw his attention. you're reaching up to a shelf, trying to grab a book that you're much too short to reach. 

and peter will not admit that he watches for a minute, just because it's a little bit cute (and also because he wasn't expecting to see you today, so he has to mentally prepare himself). 

then he walks over to you, stepping right by your side to grab the book for you. 

and you almost jump back into the bookshelf behind you. 

peter probably should've thought it through a moment longer. or tried to make some noise when he was walking over. 

"whoa," he says, hand at the sole of your back, keeping you from hitting it on the metal. "sorry. i didn't mean to scare you." 

you look at him, then down to the book, back to him. "it's--" you shake your head, blinking. "it's okay. i just didn't notice you there." 

peter offers you a half smile, leaning on his right foot. "is this the book you were trying to reach?" 

"yeah. um, thank you. i'm still growing." 

peter chuckles then, causing your face to relax--or tense, he can't tell. "don't worry, i'm used to it." 

"growing?" you question, frowning. 

"being used for my height. it's more of a burden than a blessing." 

you nod, clicking your tongue. and then you finally take the book from him. "thank you, again." 

"i really didn't mean to scare you." 

you shake your head, telling him that it's okay without the words. 

and peter feels a bit uncomfortable, out of place in this library with you standing there like a regular person--not just the regular he might have a crush on. he holds his hand out. "i'm peter, by the way." 

you blink. "oh, i know." 

"you do?" 

"that guy," you gesture your head like someone is standing behind peter. "said it, um, last week. so, i know. i've known." 

"oh, okay," peter lets an easy smile rest on his face, hand dangling mindless in the air. there's a beat of silence like someone has pressed mute on the two of you. "...what's your name?" 

you wince. "i'm y/n. sorry." and then you shake his hand. 

"that's pretty." 

you take a deep breath, look away from him, and let go of his hand. "thank you for getting me this. i've--i've got to study. but..." 

"oh, yeah, no problem. of course," peter interrupts while you're still talking. 

"i'll probably see you soon. or, around, i mean." 

"yeah. yeah." 

you wince again, eyes closing for half a second. "bye, peter." 

and honestly, his name sounds better than it ever has coming out of your mouth. 

*

it's about three days later that he sees you walking through the doors of the coffee shop. 

it's warmer today; incoming spring vibes to trick all of you when it snows again. you're wearing a t-shirt, tennis shoes. 

and a half smile when you walk up to the counter. today, you speak first. "hi, peter." 

he smiles back, arms crossed as he watches you look away and then look back. "how are you today? i'm getting a different aura." 

you raise a brow, confused. 

"i mean--" peter runs a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes at himself. "you look... refreshed. or, well-nourished?" 

you purse your lips. 

"thoughtful?" he tries. 

you shake your head, and peter can hear an echo of a laugh that isn't there. "i like the sun," you tell him. 

"yeah, me too." 

especially when she's standing in front of me, so fucking bright. 

you blink at him, looking away. "can i have an iced tea?" 

"iced? that's a bit far." 

you just shrug. 

"sure. anything in it?" 

you shake your head. 

"okay, that's $3.50. are you going to sit outside? or by the window?" 

you hand him a five, blowing a raspberry--which is, officially, the cutest thing peter has ever seen. "the window, probably." 

peter continues to smile, handing you your drink. "okay. let me know if you need anything." 

*

and it's the very next time that peter decides to just get over himself. you're just a girl, coming into a coffee shop because it's the best place on campus and practically every college student has a caffeine addiction, and he's just a guy, taking orders. 

so he needs to start acting normal. or just professional. needs to learn how to control his smile before he burns someone's face. 

and besides, he's starting to get looks. his coworkers are catching onto the fact that he'll take over the register--sometimes out of pure kindness, but most often--when you walk up. 

so when you walk in that day, peter is on the bar, brewing espresso. 

he can hear your voice as you speak to sarah, his coworker. you're polite enough--just like you are with him--and sarah even gets a little laugh when she tells you that milk burns are just an occupational hazard. 

peter definitely does not still at that, almost looking over to you before stopping himself. 

and he makes a mocha with the same passion he has for everyone's drinks--because peter really cares about his job, and he likes to make people happy. 

and he's being professional. he's trying to leave you be because he just seems to scare you. you've never really laughed at him. 

for just a moment, when peter looks over, noticing you lean against the wall and wait for your drink to be ordered, he enjoys your parted lips and careful eyes and the way you seem to swallow yourself up. 

and then he writes his phone number on the side of your cup. 

*

it's been four days. 

now, peter doesn't know much about the typical amount of time you're supposed to wait to text or call someone after they give you their number. and he also doesn't know if writing your number on the girl you like's cup is appropriate, or allowed, or... 

still, he feels worried. or stupid, or just ridiculous in the first place. he wishes that he had followed his instincts that day instead of his impulses. wishes he had taken your order, or just talked to you, or... 

it's been four days and you haven't texted him. you haven't called. and you haven't been back to the coffee shop. 

briefly, peter even considered going to the library to find you and then decided that doing that would be either heartbreaking or incredibly strange. 

he thinks that maybe you didn't even see it, and the cup was sitting in a trash can somewhere, never to be touched again. 

or that it smudged while you were drinking it, and now the numbers were more creative doodles. 

or that you didn't have a phone. your phone was broken. you spilled your drink on your phone and had no way to text or call him. 

but honestly, the more he thinks about it the worse he feels. 

the more he imagines a full smile from you, or your actual laughter as a response to something he's said, or listening to you talk about school, or your day, or the book you're reading. when he thinks about speaking to you, or taking your order and smiling at the cash you had to him, he just feels those tiny little pinpricks in his heart. 

if you wanted to text him, you would. 

*

then, he watches you walk into the shop. 

it's cold again, and you're wearing a large sweater, rubbing your hands together. he watches you shake your head like you might get the cold off of you. 

he can feel the breeze from the register. 

peter looks up, sighs, tries to decide whether telling nina he needs to go to the bathroom is worth it or not. 

but you're right in front of him, licking your lips and offering him some eye contact that he isn't used to. 

"hi," he says before you can. and it feels short and clipped. different. but he places a smile on his face that he hopes makes up for it. "what can i get you?" 

"oh, um, just a mocha, but--" 

"small or regular?" 

"small." 

peter nods, still smiling. he stands at the screen and feels like it's staring him in the soul--telling him not to be so stupid--and he waits while the receipt prints. "that'll be five dollars and eighty-three cents." 

you hand him a ten, and he can feel your eyes on him. 

"your change is--" 

"keep the change," you tell him, just a tiny wrinkle in your brows. 

peter looks up, finally, into your eyes. "thank you," he says, raising his brows. "your drink will come out over there." he nods his head toward the bar, where nina is making the drinks, and blinks at you. 

you blink back, waiting for a moment. 

peter clears his throat, waving a bit to the line. "i can help who's next." 

this time, it almost feels like he walks away first. 

*

peter's just walking out of the shop when a hand--a couple of fingers, more like--grazes his shoulder. 

he turns, quickly, to see who's touching him, this close, when he's wearing regular clothes. 

and he meets your eyes. wide and worried. 

"peter," you say, his name falling from your lips. "i'm sorry, i didn't--well, i didn't mean to scare you." 

peter furrows his brows, pursing his lips. "it's okay. are you alright?" 

"me?" you look around like someone is watching you. "yeah, yeah. i'm fine. cold, but... fine." 

peter nods, slowly. "okay. i'm gonna go then," he gestures to somewhere behind himself that is definitely not his apartment. 

and he's about to turn, but your hand is out toward him, and you make a tiny sound--tight in the back of your throat, like a squeak. and peter frowns. 

"do you have a minute to talk?" you ask him, hand at your neck, eyes toward the ground. 

embarrassed or worried, or... 

peter blinks, brows shifting. but then he nods, because this is what he's wanted for weeks--an actual chance to talk to you, a moment to hear your voice a little bit breathless and reckless, and right in front of him. 

he might be an idiot, but he's not that big of an idiot. 

you nod your head, small smile meeting your face, then disappearing. you almost laugh. 

peter is very confused. slightly concerned about your mental state. 

"you okay?" he asks, again, just slower. 

you shake your head, trying to smile at him. "i'm good, i just, um..." your voice is drawn out and quick. "i just wanted to say that, that i saw your number on my cup. and that i..." your mouth is open, but no words are coming out. 

peter feels his cheeks flush. of course, you would need to bring this up. the one conversation you've initiated would be about his terrible choices. 

"i, well, i put your number in my phone. and in my contacts. you know, peter," you laugh, quick and nervous. "god, of course, it's peter i'm just--" you shake your head. "i just wanted you to know that i was going to text you. really, i even tried a couple of times. it's just that every time i thought about it--" your voice drifts off. 

peter is watching you talk with your hands. bite the inside of your cheek. 

"i was too nervous to actually do it. and i wanted you to know that it isn't because i wasn't happy that you gave me your number--i was really happy--it's just because i thought about it too much and then i couldn't." 

you stop, jaw tense and hands pausing. you're not really looking at him, but you're also not looking at anything else.

you wince after a second goes by, sighing, hand rubbing at your face. "sorry. i didn't mean to, um, monologue at you. i just wanted to tell you, in case..." 

"you put me in your contacts?" 

peter can feel his cheek twitching, the beginnings of a smile on his face. 

you meet his eyes, nodding. 

"you're not mad about it?" he asks, just to clarify. "or worried that i'm a stalker, or trying to swindle bigger tips out of you?" 

you laugh, finally, shaking your head. "i didn't think that." 

peter blinks. "you were going to text me?" 

"yeah, i--i was." 

and then he actually smiles, nodding with you. 

you both stand there for a moment, almost looking at each other but not quite. despite how terrible the rest of his day was, peter feels like laughing until his ribs hurt. 

he feels like there's some magnetic force pushing him toward you, making him lean in your direction, and feel your breath from four feet away. 

you clear your throat. "i was wondering if i could give you my number? just, so that, you know, i don't--" 

peter nods immediately, hand sliding to his pocket. "yeah. that'd be great." 

"yeah?" you ask him, softly. 

peter smiles. 

*

when you walk into the shop the next week, peter knows a couple of new things about you. 

he knows that you're a junior here--a couple of months younger than him. he knows that you're studying sociology, and that you have an apartment three blocks away from the coffee shop. you have a gap between classes from noon to three, so you always stop in. 

and he knows that you don't know a lot of people at esu and that you don't have a lot of free time for extracurriculars. you like movies and reading. 

and you think that peter's nice. 

"hey, sugar," he says, as you walk up. "did you come all of this way just to see me?" he presses a hand to his heart, mock-honored. 

you purse your lips, eyebrows raised. "i didn't even know you worked here." 

he narrows his eyes at you. "rude." 

you blink. "i'm sorry," you say, softly, "do i know you?" 

peter delights in the way your lip twitches, the small indent in your cheek, and your hands, clasped together. 

"mean," he says, sighing. 

"hi, peter." 

and then he grins. "what kinda coffee?" 

"something sweet?" 

he leans back, tilting his head at you. "are you trying to suggest that i recommend something?" 

"i'm trying to suggest that you just surprise me, but..." 

peter taps a finger to his chin. "hmm, something sweet. is chocolate a requirement?" 

you shake your head. and then the bell rings again, and there's a group of people walking in. 

"okay. david'll make it for you. don't try to spit it on me if you don't like it." 

you half smile. "how much?" 

peter scoffs, crossing his arms. "you don't even know what you're getting. i'm not letting you pay for something you might hate." 

your brows furrow. 

"and don't just put that bill in the tip jar--" peter groans as you do it, giving him a sickly sweet smile. "what did i ever do to you?" 

"we'll see, i guess." you nod at him, moving to the side. and when peter greets the next person in line, it's with a bigger smile than before. 

*

three weeks after that, peter is feeling pretty secure in the relationship he's developing with you. 

you tease him back when he makes a joke, and he's gotten you to full-on laugh at least four times now. when you bite your lip, it's because you're trying not to laugh at him. 

and by secure, of course, peter means that every day he goes into work hoping you'll show up--even if he knows that you have opposite schedules, and he'll be gone before you get out of class. he watches the door, expecting a girl that he's quite fond of to walk through, and when she doesn't, he frowns just a little bit. 

and then he texts you, complaining. 

he doesn't tell you that he has a severe case of butterflies. or a concerning heart murmur every time he hears his phone buzz. 

he doesn't tell you that he thinks you're beautiful, and that he'd like to spend hours just trying to get you to laugh. he can't tell you that he thinks you're incredibly smart, and kind, and that he can't imagine a single person not liking you. 

and by that, of course, he tries to man the register when david is working. mostly because he's slightly afraid of his coworker, and slightly afraid that you might find him more charming than peter. 

but it's three weeks later when peter finally dials your number, fingers tapping against his desk. 

he waits for a moment--telling himself that you might already be asleep, or at a party, or in the shower--listening to the dial tone. 

and then after about ten seconds, he hears a tiny little click. 

your voice, quiet and smooth when you say "hello?" 

"hey, you," peter answers back, trying not to breathe into the microphone. "sorry, i know it's late. did i interrupt anything?" 

there's some ruffling and then your voice: "no, i was just, um, folding laundry. so i guess you saved me." 

his laugh is warm and his heart is pounding. "anytime. are you, uh, are you busy at all tomorrow? in the evening?" 

peter briefly considers that maybe he should've written a script for himself. thinks about scheduling a doctor's appointment. 

"tomorrow?" you repeat. 

peter nods, wincing when he realizes that you can't see it. "yeah, well, there's this band playing at connor's park tomorrow, and i don't--there's no one else i can go with, so i was thinking that you might like to come?" 

there's a beat of silence where peter wants to die. 

"tomorrow," he repeats, "at six." 

"at the park?" 

peter hums. 

"what band?" 

peter swallows. "i actually don't know... a good one? i hope." 

and you laugh, finally, your breath a welcome gesture across five miles and static. "sure, i'd love to. do you want me to meet you there, or...?" 

"how about i pick you up? we can walk." 

"you don't have to do that, peter." 

"i want to," he tells you. "just send me your address and i'll be there around five-thirty tomorrow. okay?" 

"okay," you whisper. 

*

peter picks you up outside your apartment the next day. he's leaning against the wall, thinking about a smirk you gave him a couple of days ago when he couldn't remember the word millennium. 

he's thinking about calling you, just so he can talk to you while you walk down the stairs. 

but then you're opening a door, slipping past it, and standing right next to him. 

and you're wearing a dress. 

it's above your knee, a soft and pretty color, and it almost makes peter want to fall to the floor. he's seen you in giant coats, and torn sweaters, and t-shirts, but never a dress. 

he thanks mother nature for making it just hot enough for this today. 

"whoa," he says to you, smiling and dipping his head a bit, so he can look you in the eyes. "you, you look great." 

you lick your lip. "i don't like these shoes," you tell him, but peter doesn't even look down. 

he's watching your eyes dart from him to the ground, your chest expands as you breathe, and your hand, trying to scratch the dress off. 

peter considers just skipping the whole thing and standing here to look at you for the rest of the night. 

and then you're frowning. "what?" you ask him, looking down. "is there something wrong? tag?" you spin around, searching for some unbelievable flaw that you think you're missing. 

peter smiles. "no, it's just... you look beautiful, is all." 

you look back at him, eyes wide. and then you clear your throat, turning away from him to start walking. "do we have to pay for tickets or anything?" 

peter follows your stride, hand very close to yours. "no, it's just at the amphitheater so we just have to walk up." 

you nod. 

and peter is walking with you, copying your pace, trying to move right and left with you. 

he's also trying to refrain from putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. 

"peter?" you say after a couple of minutes. 

"hmm, bug?" 

"do you have any pets?" 

peter looks over to you with a question in his brows but you're looking straight ahead, like this is a normal question. 

he shakes his head. "no." 

"did you have any growing up?" 

"may had a cat when i moved in with them, but nothing besides that. i always wanted a dog." 

"what kind?" 

"any dog. just someone to cause trouble with." 

you exhale, a bit less than a laugh. "that's cute." 

"why'd you ask?" 

you shake your head, walk a couple more feet. "do you have a five-year plan?" 

"what?" peter laughs. 

"like a goal for where you want to be in five years. good career? house? kids?" 

"i'm twenty years old." 

you're shrugging next to him. "i want to buy a new tv in the next five years." 

peter snorts. "okay, well, i want to get into astronaut school in the next two, and on the moon in three." 

"you're too flimsy for space." 

peter's mouth drops. "someone's got some sass today, huh? i'd make a great astronaut, thank you very much." 

"you'd drift away." 

"this hurts, you know," peter says. "this is just mean." 

you're giggling next to him, knuckles sliding past his every thirty seconds, making him want to jump out of his skin. 

"do you want kids?" 

peter almost chokes on his own spit. "wh--what?" 

"i'm just asking." 

"what's with these questions? did you get a list off of the internet, or something?" 

"i--" you pause. "no." 

peter looks over to you, almost laughing. "you did." 

"i didn't," you insist, a bit louder than he's ever heard you. "these are perfectly normal questions for any friend to ask another friend. i don't know why you're being so weird about it." 

"weird?" peter laughs, throwing his head back. and then without even thinking about it, he slings an arm around you, holding you close. "oh, you're too much." 

"peter, you're all sweaty." 

"this is a perfectly normal activity for friends to do together--" 

"smelling each other's armpits?" 

"i learned it online. and google doesn't lie." 

you finally laugh, shame easing from your face. 

"c'mon," peter says, shaking his head at you. "we're going to miss it." 

*

peter buys you a snow cone before the show starts, smiling at the way it turns your tongue and lips blue, and laughing when it starts to drip down your hands. 

he finds you a spot on the grass, sitting down without thinking about it, even when you frown. 

"what?" 

"there's bugs down there." 

peter raises a brow. "don't tell me you're afraid of a little dirt?" 

"i'm afraid of disease. and getting grass stains on my pants." 

peter purses his lips, trying not to laugh at how serious you are, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. "you can sit on my lap if you want." 

you groan and then sit down beside him. "when i die, i'm blaming you." 

"of course," peter responds, easily. 

and he leans a little bit closer to you. 

there are ten minutes before the band starts, and during that time, peter begins to point out people in the crowd. he whispers to you that an old man is sitting on a lawn chair, crossing his arms like he's going to call the police as soon as anyone makes too much noise. he guesses that the couple in front of you is going to start making out within the next five minutes. 

you're leaning into him, your smile almost evident on his neck. it's fun when you play along, guessing that the boy with a cowboy hat on is really an undercover fbi agent and that the girl staring at peter is really a vampire. 

"what girl?" he asks, looking over. 

you almosr grin. "literally any one of them, peter. you've got groupies." 

he looks around again but doesn't see anyone. he just sees you smiling at him. 

and then there's a man walking onto the stage, introducing himself and his band mates, thanking all of them for coming--but peter's not really paying attention. you're much more interesting than a twenty-five-year-old man that he can barely see. 

when the music begins to play, he watches as a small smile falls on your face. sort of like you hadn't even meant to let it get there. 

and as they play, peter can feel you getting closer to him. your skin almost brushing against him, your heart almost knocking into his. 

he looks away, just so he can pretend that he can't feel any of it. 

after a couple of songs and a couple of minutes of playing the game where he looks at you until you look back and peter pretends that he wasn't staring, he leans down to you, mouth right by your ear. 

"do you like it?" he whispers, noticing your hands picking at some grass by your legs. 

"they're good." 

your voice is quiet, and you seem a bit on edge. peter leans back so he can look at you better, frowning. "you okay? is it too loud?" 

you blink and turn to him, eyes wide. "no, it's--" and then you smile at him. and within a second your head is on his shoulder, and he swears that you're trying to kill him. "it's great, peter. thank you for inviting me." 

he spends the next twenty minutes trying to stay completely still. trying to figure out how to glue you this close to him. 

it's almost seven when he looks around, realizing that the sun has gone down and that the crowd has dwindled, leaving only the people that are willing to dance along to the music. 

there are stars right above his head--bright and beautiful--but he'd much rather look at you. 

eventually, you look back. "you okay, peter?" 

he shakes his head, but he's smiling. "perfect." 

your returning smile almost matches his. and your hand is close to his own, and he can feel his thigh touching yours. 

and honestly, if he doesn't do a single thing about it in the next thirty seconds he might have a heart attack. 

"do you want to dance?" he asks you. 

you turn to him again, brows furrowed. "right now?" 

"yeah," peter answers, easily. "right now." and then he stands up, holding a hand out to you. 

there's a moment where you're staring at his hand, then at the ground, heart beating recklessly. 

"i promise i won't step on your feet," peter swears, hand still there, heart still yours. 

finally, your lip twitches, and you nod. "okay." 

your hand is cold in his, but peter feels like he's burning up from the inside. you take a step closer to him, chest almost to his. you're short enough that he could rest his chin on the top of your head, and hold you there forever. 

instead, he waits for your arms to unlock, opening up for him, and he places a hand around your waist, gently pulling you closer. 

his breath is right by your ear, and he can feel it when you shiver. 

you relax into him, arms moving to wrap around his neck, fingertips just barely hitting his hairline. his other hand takes yours, and he sways, softly, feeling you move with him. 

eventually, you lean your head into his chest, letting him hold you up. 

"good?" peter asks, feeling your breath on his skin. 

and you nod against him, letting him move you slowly and softly, heart pounding to the beat of the music. 

but peter can't even hear it anymore. he can feel a single thing but you. 

"thank you for coming," he says. "there's no one else i'd rather be with." 

you look up at him, eyes soft and knowing. "peter," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. 

he looks back, and there's a moment where he can almost see himself reflected in your eyes--his adoration and heart, all intertwined into something absolutely ridiculous. but it looks beautiful in your pupils, just like everything else. 

he smiles. 

"peter," you whisper again.

his hand moves from your waist, crawling up your sternum to rest against your cheek, keeping you from looking away. peter is almost certain that he's making all of this up. 

his other hand follows, and you let him hold you, let him stare at you while soft music plays in the background. 

it's a bit chilly now, without the sun. but you're close enough to peter that he can feel your body heat, he can push his into you. 

you're blinking softly, breathing harshly--loud enough that he can actually hear it. and finally, you close your eyes like you can't stand to look at him for a moment more. 

"peter," you repeat, one last time. 

"yeah?" 

your eyes open, and your face is soft and nervous when you say, "will you kiss me?" 

peter pauses, his mouth opening, his eyes searching yours, like he might be hallucinating this. like you might just be a dream, some figment of his imagination he's going to miss so dearly when it's gone. 

his eyes dart down to your lips, following up to your nose, and then meeting your eyes again. 

and he leans in--knowing that he can't control the pull toward you anymore. his nose brushes against yours, making you shiver and peter chuckle as a result. 

he stays there for a second, just breathing you in. 

your arms are still around his neck, but one of your hands moves up, trying to pull him even closer. 

finally, peter leans forward, keeping your head tilted and meeting your lips with a desperation he wasn't sure even existed. 

it's soft, and you taste like syrup. and you're moving with him, just a bit uncertain, letting him push and pull at your lips, and not letting you go. 

you're sighing against his mouth, a small breath into his. 

peter can feel you pushing closer to him, standing on your tip-toes so you can reach further. 

he smiles against you. and then he pulls back, giving you both a moment to breathe. 

his heart feels nonexistent in his chest. the flapping of a hummingbird's wings, almost too fast to be seen. 

he laughs at you, or maybe himself, and keeps his forehead on yours, eyes closed. you laugh back, like an echo or a response, or a desperate plead for more. 

peter opens his mouth, feeling his lips just barely brush against yours. "does this mean you'll stop trying to pay for coffee?" he asks. 

and delights in the way you laugh against him. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys 

[iifoundjoy]

Paladin of Voltron AU - which lions do you think the gang would wield? so far ive got... ashlyn as the black paladin - the black lion typically looks for a natural leader, someone who won't hesitate to make hard decisions and brings people together, someone who will stand their ground. ash fits these traits in a lot of ways, shown in how she took charge to keep them safe in the phantom dimension from the very start and continues to give her all in protecting everybody and getting them out.

tyler as the red paladin - the red lion tends to choose those that push their limits, stubborn and prideful, sometimes even aggressive. her paladins are usually the most likely to act on their own and react on impulse, the right hand of the black lion.

tyler is shown to be stubborn and hot-headed most of the time, and while he doesn't tend to stray from the plan- he does voice his opinions very loudly when he thinks there are any flaws in ashlyns plans. and as a duo, i think tyler would make a pretty great right hand to rely on for ashlyn once they've gotten to know each other and warm up.

aiden as the blue paladin - was sort of tough to place, he was fighting real hard for the red lion but ultimately i put him with blue. if we go into a soft dive for blue, you can tell she likes paladins that are open, willing to follow along and adapt, and humorous. while aiden isnt the first to start a group therapy circle, he isn't outright against it either, he just is never quite given the chance to really open up about his own past. but he does follow right along after ash, ready to move whenever a situation changes out of their favor and is no stranger to trying to keep the mood light.

logan as the green paladin - i think green looks for a curious mind of sorts, someone who looks at a puzzle with sheer determination instead of blinking and turning right around. logan is smart, that much is obvious, but he is also the one who figured out most of what they know of the phantom dimension. he was scared yes, but he still figured out so much despite his fear, he felt more than to leave it well enough alone.

and ben as the yellow paladin - yellow is the hufflepuff of the lions i think, it isn't too picky about who pilots it, but they do look for someone reliable in almost any situation. someone stable, almost predictable in a way? the foundation of a group. ben shows this in many ways, one particular moment that comes to mind is at the arcade when things started getting sticky with logan. he was the very first to get up and start throwing hands because that's his friend and he won't watch him go through the same thing he did.

and finally, taylor as allura - this girl was fighting teeth and nail for blue lion but i caved in because aiden and tyler as the dynamic blue/red duo could NOT be missed. i do have this little idea that the twins would be half altaen bastards who were seperated at birth. i think this could also pose conflict when they try to make alliances with other planets because she isn't true royalty. + for a bit of angst throw in their dad saving her when the planet was destroyed. EDIT: another idea for the twins, they were seperated when the planet was destroyed, and when they were about to be put into a cyropod and everything, maybe tylers launched on accident and landed on earth? he wakes up with zero memories of who he was but enrolls into the space garrison because he for some reason knows so much about space and the need to go up there because something is missing but he doesn't know what.

honorable mentions! ashlyn as the red paladin (i thought it could be a sort of keith and shiro situation where she doesn't want it but she ends up with black anyway, i just don't know who would be in shiro's stead, mike?) aiden as the red paladin taylor as the blue paladin and aiden as allura (think about the potential ash and aiden could have here, PLEASE! just switch the flirting dynamic lance always coming on allura but with aiden jokingly flirting with ashlyn all the time) i ultimately chose these pairings because everyone ends up where i want them to be..sort of, except for ashlyn. aiden would eventually become the red paladin, taylor as blue, and i was trying to work out ashlyn going from red to black, but again, i don't know who she would be replacing. to make this work i was thinking maybe the twins were both woken up from their slumber by the team, both fully altaen.

[gabessquishytum]

Hello love! I’ve been having thoughts of Dream and Hob exploring their sexualities in… potentially unhealthy ways. I don’t think I’ll ever write it, so I’m tossing my scattered thoughts your way in the hopes you’ll be inspired, or perhaps someone else will be ;)

I was listening to “One of Your Girls” by Troye Sivan and was smacked in the head with the concept of young Dream going to a club and meeting Hob– who’s a very straight man, for the first time.

Hob is very much Dream’s type: warm and soft, an easy smile, strong yet kind,  but something devious in his eyes. Especially with the way he’s been eyeing Dream from across the room. Dream saunters over to him and turns on the charm. He’s openly flirting, lightly touching Hob’s arm, complimenting how handsome he is, all to Hob laughing and blushing and acting almost… shy? Finally Hob, while not outright pushing Dream away, reveals to him that he’s flattered, but not interested in men.

Undeterred, Dream hums casually, taking a long swallow from his drink (making sure Hob watches), and leans fully into his space to speak sweetly in his ear.

“Are you sure?”

And when Hob turns his head to meet Dream’s gaze dead on, they are close enough to feel one another’s breath on their lips. Close enough that Dream can taste Hob’s anxiety mingled with excitement as his lips part and his eyes flick down briefly to Dream’s mouth and back.

Dream’s eyes flutter shut as Hob’s hand cups the side of his face, fingers soft under his jawline, and slowly leans in for a kiss that is so soft, so god damn careful, it nearly makes Dream shake.

Because, underneath his cool and confident facade, Dream is insecure. He’s young and is desperate to be loved. Hob isn’t the first straight man he’s fooled around with. Dream has always told men, and himself, that it was okay. That his body could be a safe space for them to explore their curiosities… even if it did leave him feeling strangely empty afterwards. The thrill of being the reason a straight man was questioning himself wore off pretty fast when they didn’t stay the night, didn’t call him back, or even indulge in a kiss.

But the first thing Hob does is kiss him. Slow, gentle, with his hands holding Dream’s face like he’s something precious and it shatters something in Dream. He almost whimpers as Hob pulls back, thumbs caressing his sharp cheekbones.

It was just a chaste thing, lips only, but Dream instantly wants more. 

“Did you like that?” Dream asks, already dying to go back for more.

But Hob pauses, seeming to really consider it.

“I’m not sure. That was my first time kissing a man.”

So from here… we could go two directions:

Hob has his bi-awakening. Dream shows him everything he’s been missing. It’s sweet and they fall in love afterwards.

Or, my personal preference, angst.

Hob continues to be unsure. Dream and him spend more time together, but it’s more as friends. Dream lays off trying to get him into his bed, but it’s still very obvious he’s into him. Like, really obvious (lots of staring, “casual” touches, more experimental kissing that as they indulge in more and more, Hob breaks away with a loud gasp or frustrated sound because he’ll get his hands on Dream and feel his flat chest, the stubble on his face, or Dream’s low growl and shake his head “This isn’t working…”).

And finally Dream kind of breaks down and is like, “I could be a girl for you.” and dresses up in drag. He makes a very convincing woman and it’s almost embarrassing how into it Hob is, finally getting a proper erection the moment Dream walks into the room, high heels, makeup, wig, tucked and wearing fake breasts. He sucks Hob off before blindfolding him while Dream crawls up his lap and impales himself on Hob’s cock.

It gets messy from there. Dream developing feelings and Hob feeling even more confused about his sexuality than before. It’s like Dream, his friend, is a completely different person than the Dream that presents himself as feminine. 

Maybe Hob grew up conservative and he’s still fighting back old repressed morals/values. Maybe he has internalized homophobia. 

As you can see, my mind is everywhere. Not sure where to take it, and I don’t think I have the confidence to properly tackle this brainworm. So. here ya go *upends box all over the place and runs away*

First of all hello my love!! So great to see you here!!! And second of all, one of your girls is such a banger. I just have share my favourite line with you all: You should insure that waist / With the highest policy you can get

Iconic.

Anyway, this ask hurt my feelings so much but I LOVE IT. Repressed queer Hob is so interesting to me because it feels quite close to canon? As a character Hob is quite conservative/goes with the times. I think he's right about himself, he does have to make a big effort to change! Which is not a bad thing! But can be painful, I guess.

It definitely makes everything more complicated because Dream seems to be two different people. He's still Hob’s friend, his buddy, someone he trusts and respects. But he's also... someone else. A pretty thing in drag who knows exactly how Hob likes to be sucked off and who Hob fantasies about when he jerks off. It's not really Dream he's thinking of, but it kind of is? Those are Dream’s thighs wrapped around his waist, those are Dream’s lips, his tongue, his pert little arse.

Hob feels like a horrible person and like he should stop the whole thing, but every time he tries, Dream pouts his pink glossy lips and slides his freshly shaved thigh between Hob’s legs to rub against his cock. And Hob thinks well, one more time won't hurt. And the cycle continues.

Dream feels utterly destroyed by the fact that he just isn't enough for Hob. Because Hob is so nice to him! He never laughs at Dream, he's a proper friend to him, and a good lover too. It would be such a perfect relationship. But Hob never gets hard when they're curled up on the couch together in the daytime. They still try kissing sometimes, but Hob sometimes pulls away with his look on his face that just cuts Dream to his core.

So he keeps dressing up. Being Hob’s pretty little girl isn’t so bad. Hob is worth it. He's nothing like the other straight men who've tossed Dream away after one night of curiosity. And he really, genuinely isn't! He loves Dream, its just that the love is weighed down by all the stuff inside Hob’s head that tells him that he can't. He can't be gay. Not even for Dream. He can't open that door because he's fucking terrified of what's behind it.

I'm a sucker for an eventual resolution so I propose this: Hob finally does the right thing and breaks off the pseudo-relationship with Dream. He requests time apart and Dream is devastated, but resigned. Hob will move on and find himself a proper woman, he supposes. But Hob does not! He goes to therapy!

It's nearly a year until Hob shows up at Dream’s place. He apologies for everything that happened before - he was old enough to know better. Being fucked up by other people isn't an excuse to do fucked up shit. And he would like a chance to try again with Dream, but he doesn't expect or feel entitled to anything. It's not up to Dream to fix him.

Dream tries to take time to think it over, but the answer was always going to be yes. He's done some growing up in the last year, and he knows what he deserves: a loving, dedicated and respectful partner. He knows that Hob can be all of that. No more pretending and hiding. They're going to make it work.

[restlessmaknae]

get it right [c.y.j.]

Choi Yeonjun, the cute barista at your local café, just can't seem to get your name right. It's not until Christmas that he lets you know why.

➳ Characters: barista!Yeonjun x female!reader/you

➳ Genre: fluff, romance, uni au, café au

➳ Words: 1.8k

➳ Warning: mentions of food (let me know if there are more)

➳ A/N: This idea has been in the back of my mind for so long, but it wasn’t supposed to be Christmas-themed. I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! ❤️

Choi Yeonjun was a menace. An annoyingly handsome and a blushingly flirty menace. He was also the cute barista at the local café you frequented, and he just couldn't seem to get your name right whenever you ordered coffee to go. Sometimes your name was missing a few letters or the letters were switched, but there were times when the name scribbled down on the plastic paper wasn't even close to your name.

There was no way Yeonjun couldn't remember your name because you were a frequent customer, and because he actually initiated conversations with you while he was making your drink. Since you usually got yourself a coffee in the morning before you headed to uni to study at the library (because there was no way you could study in the dorms, your roommates weren’t exactly a fan of you studying so early in the morning), there weren't a lot of people coming into the café at such an early hour, but Yeonjun was always there. Since it wasn't peak time, he was the one who got and made your order, but in the afternoon, when there were a lot of visitors buzzing around, one barista received your order and another one made your drink.

You were in luck, it seemed, that you did have some time to speak to him while waiting for your drink because he was a fun company. Maybe a bit too flirty for his own good, but you guessed that he was like that with everyone else, too. Not until your best friend, Yoojung, actually went to your favourite café for the first time, did you dare to think otherwise.

"There's no way he's like that with everyone. You see, there were some girls in front of me outright telling him how handsome he is, and he didn't flirt back! Also, I got only a smiley beside my name on the cup," she reasoned as she held up her own cup of coffee, proving her point. "And you say that you have hearts beside your name. I don't think that's a coincidence," she pointed out with a mischievous smile as she smacked your side.

"No, how can it be? He can't even spell my name right," you shook your head, but you had to admit that you were less sure about being just an ordinary customer for the boy. Could it be that he liked you? No, no way. He was just so cool, friendly, easy-going and still caring, he must have liked similarly cool girls. Not that you had low self-esteem, it's just that you were more on the introverted side, you were sometimes searching for the right words to say, and you were blushing so hard whenever he complimented you, it was wild to imagine that he might like someone like you.

"Well, maybe he's doing it on purpose," Yoojung mused out loud, resting her head on her arms propped up on a pile of books. With her, a study session never stayed just a study session, and ever since you dared to bring up Yeonjun in your conversations, she was always waiting for the updates.

"What purpose?"

"I don't know. I don't get boys."

"But you have a boyfriend," you pointed out, and Yoojung couldn't help but laugh. Him and Hendery getting together was one of the surprises of last semester, but it's not like you couldn't see the sparks. It's just that your best friend was in denial about her feelings towards him, and she couldn't take the boy seriously either.

"Hendery is a different species," she rolled her eyes yet it was in an affectionate way, and there was a certain degree of gentleness in her tone.

"Anyways, let's get back to game theory," you suggested as you flipped a page in your textbook. Your best friend grunted in response.

"Aaah, your cute barista is waaaaay more interesting than game theory."

The next time you went to the café, you tried to see if something was different in the way Yeonjun acted with others and with you. However, due to the early hour, there was only a businessman in his 50s in front of you in the queue, and he didn't flirt with the man.

"Hey there, my favourite customer!" He greeted you gleefully though, and already got a plastic cup ready.

"Whose name you still can't spell right," you teased, but there was a smile in the corner of your lips. Yeonjun faked being hurt by your words and theatrically placed a hand over his heart.

"You're still my favourite customer though."

"Alright. I guess that counts."

"It does. Not even my friends can have this title," he explained with a mischievous smile as he leaned forward, lowering his voice as if it was a secret. Though you knew all too well that some of his friends didn't even drink coffee, there were some who attended universities far away from his workplace and the others didn't frequent the café as much as you did.

"Anyways, I'll take the usual," you let him know, trying to shush Yoojung's voice in your head.

"Cool. We have a buy one, get one free discount today, so you can have two. Will you take the same for the second?"

"Well, what's your favourite drink here?" You inquired, genuinely curious. It was no surprise that he already knew your order by heart because you ordered the same pretty much every single time you came here (even on days it wasn't his shift in the morning, but the other baristas didn't know your favourite order like he did). So you were actually interested in his preference.

"Hmm I like iced lattes, but it's getting colder these days, so I usually go for a caramel frappuccino with lots of whipped cream," he explained in his usual enthusiastic voice, and the simple joy of talking about his favourite drink (or rather, you asking about it) made you smile widely.

"Then, make me one of your recent favourite drinks," you decided, and he giddily got started on it while asking about your tests coming up. Winter break was only a few weeks away, so you had a lot of studying to do for your exams, but by waking up early and going to the library to study, you were already working on it.

When you got your order, both of the cups had your name misspelled, but both of the cups had little hearts on them, too. You cracked a smile before taking your usual order and pointing at the other one:

"It's for you. Hope you have a great day!" You wished with a wide smile, and before Yeonjun could protest, you were already outside of the café. Through the windows though, you could see the boy's face lighting up as he reached for the drink and took a sip from it, content.

Well, he always made your days, so it was time to pay him back.

Yoojung, as expected, faked gagging at your gesture towards the boy, but it seemed so right in the moment. Not to mention that your best friend was even more sure by now that the boy liked you, but you weren't that sure, and it would be awkward if you misread the signs because you were such a frequent visitor at the café.

However, as you neared winter break, and you talked about going home for the holidays, you couldn't help but notice Yeonjun's lips curling downwards. You asked if he was working during the winter break since you knew that he was from around here, and he said that he was off for one whole week, but he would get back to work afterwards.

"I might be meeting friends here in early January, so I might come by," you blurted out, and it seemed like such an unnecessary piece of information that you almost told him to forget about it. However, seeing the boy's bright eyes and insanely wide smile, you didn't mind doing so.

"Really? That's cool. I'll be here anyway, you know," he tried to shrug it off coolly, but he was fighting contentment painting his lips. He looked so happy, your heart did little somersaults at the sight.

"Can't let your favourite customer miss out on coming by for weeks," you joked around, and he joined you.

"Can't let you not have your daily dose of Choi Yeonjun," he winked at you before he turned around to reach for the milk bag, but as he was pouring it into your cup, he looked up, suddenly alarmed. "Wait, is this your last day before going home then?"

"Yeah, actually, it is," you nodded, and suddenly, you realised that you didn't know what to say or do. It's not a goodbye after all, is it? However, you were coming here almost every single day for the past few months, and Yeonjun had become such a solid part of your days that you had a feeling that you would miss this, that you would miss him.

"Oh, I see," Yeonjun mumbled, uncharacteristically solemn. You got a message on your phone at this time, so you looked at it, writing back to one of your group project partners, telling her that you would be at the library in 15 minutes.

When you put your phone back into your coat's pocket and you reached for your drink, you automatically took a sip of it. You let out a content hum and Yeonjun smiled affectionately.

"Merry Christmas! Don't miss me too much," he winked at you, dissolving the earlier serious atmosphere, and you smiled back at him, thankful and a bit bashful, too.

"Merry Christmas, Yeonjun!" You wished, albeit a bit bittersweet, and there was an odd feeling taking over you as you made your way outside of the café.

As you lifted the cup to your mouth, you noticed more words than just your name on the side of the cup, and you halted in your steps to get a full view of it.

"It's my number in case you miss me too much, y/n!

P.S.: I know your name, I just wanted to have a reason at all times to talk to you"

Smiling, you immediately typed the number into your phone, sending Yeonjun a message. He replied almost instantly, teasing you if you already missed him. To which, you said that maybe you did.

After that, there was nothing that could put an end to your texts, and soon enough, you found yourself on a date with him in January because Yoojung was right; Yeonjun truly did misspelled your name on purpose.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! Even if you don’t celebrate it or don’t enjoy this time of the year for whatever reason, I hope this story could bring you some joy.  ❤️

If you’re interested in more of my stories, consider signing up for my taglist HERE.

Thank you so much for reading this story of mine! It means a lot to me. ❤️

[aardvaark]

expanding on that post about sophie devereaux backstories, grift ones and real ones and the things in between:

a year or two after they meet, tara and sophie are somewhere near drunk in a hotel room after a con, high heels thrown against the wall, dresses unzipped and halfway off. tara asks for her Story. the Story. and maybe she wouldn’t have asked if she were sober or maybe tara is simply a little too bloody brave sometimes, a little too determined.

so sophie tells her about a father in the military, a mother who died young, a family that moved houses, towns, regions, countries, all the time growing up. about lying to impress kids at every new school. about desperately doing almost anything to fit in for the months or year she’d stay in that area. about sweet talking her way out of a few little crimes here and there, cash that she would certainly never steal from her rich friends’ parents’ wallets, some driving rules she broke when she was too young to even have a license, yet old enough for a cop to encourage her flirting. sophie tells tara that her father died when she was 19, and the grief had led to recklessness. she made a mistake on a too-ballsy grift. she would’ve gone to jail. instead, she faked her death (for the first of many times) and never looked back. it’s the only funeral of hers that she didn’t attend.

and then, tara told her an equally untrue Story in return.

when sophie is duchess charlotte prentiss, her husband william asks far too many questions about her past. of course, charlotte has a Story. all of her aliases have Stories, even the ones she only uses for a day - they all have birthdays, childhood pets, first kisses, people they love. so she tells him that her parents died in a car crash when she was 16 and instead of going into the foster system, the authorities figured she was old enough to become an emancipated minor. she tells him how it was difficult at times, incredible at others, and sad and exciting and embarrassing and bittersweet. she weaves a damn good tale about charlottes life, if she may say so herself - one that’s just painful enough for william to stop asking questions. it works perfectly. but when she tucks astrid into bed that night, and the little girl looks up at her with big round eyes and asks if ‘charlotte’ misses her mummy and daddy and says that she’s sad for ‘charlotte’ because she knows what it’s like to miss a mama… sophie freezes. there’s a lump in her throat and goosebumps on her skin. she blinks down the tears and recovers just enough to fake a smile and kiss astrid’s forehead as she leaves the room. lying has never hurt like this before. it takes all her strength to shut it down, shove the emotions in some tiny box in her head that she simply refuses to acknowledge. she decides, then, that she has to leave this house as soon as possible.

the charlotte Story is one of many that hardison finds. it’s inevitable, when he has to cover all their tracks so thoroughly, that hardison would stumble upon various old aliases. he only learns about the charlotte one from the job in england - there’s no links between her and sophie, but he destroys a decent amount of excess duchess charlotte prentiss information just in case, and then looks for any other mysterious women who happened to pop up or vanish around that time. he notices that there are some things that all of sophie’s aliases share: their parents are dead, they have no siblings, and their life changed dramatically somehow in their mid-to-late teens (usually with those parents’ deaths, or gaining an inheritance, or moving far away). he knows that these are all pretty standard, convenient details for a fake identity. but he wonders, sometimes. couldn’t she have made up dead siblings? estranged but alive parents? a dramatic event in her early childhood or in her twenties? he doesn’t know if the consistent parts mean anything. he doesn’t ask for her Story - not outright, at least. though for the first couple months of knowing her, he does sometimes enquire about little things here and there. did she grow up with sisters, what was her high school like - that sort of stuff. information is his thing, sue him! sometimes sophie just smiles. sometimes she answers, and he eventually learns that her truths, at least, are very much relative. when he decides that she is family - which is pretty early on, to be honest - he also decides not to ask anymore. he destroys old aliases when necessary, but he never reads more than he has to. he loves sophie and that is enough.

eliot never asks anything about her life. not even the innocent, casual, unthinking questions that sophie is used to from other people: where’d you grow up? did you ever have any pets? i always had to share a room with my sister, what about you? eliot clearly avoids asking her any of it. she’s somewhat surprised by that. sure, he’s polite, but he’s also suspicious both by nature and due to certain unfortunate experiences, so she sort of expected him to interrogate her when they first met.

one night, they’re the last two left at nate’s apartment. even nate had gone to bed and left them there, long given up on shooing his team out at appropriate times. sophie’s been drinking tea and flipping through a latvian phrase book to refresh her memory for tomorrow’s grift, and apparently that 90-minute-a-day sleep schedule allows for eliot to be doing one-handed push ups in the living room at this ungodly hour. too tired to retain any more information, sophie studies eliot instead. he’s a straightforward guy. she decides to be straightforward too. she breaks the silence of the apartment and simply asks - is he ever curious about her Story? eliot pauses a moment. looks her in the eye, quiet. doesn’t brush her off gruffly like she thought he might. instead, he asks if she’s ever curious about What He’s Done. that is answer enough for the both of them. they don’t talk for the rest of the night, each going back to their own activities, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. on the contrary - the mutual understanding ends up solidifying their relationship.

nate isn’t always so intensely careful about his questions like eliot. well, actually, there were many times back in his insurance days that he very much did ask her questions on purpose. and of course, for five years, he asks after her real name. sophie generally thinks of it as a fun game. she smiles at his useless determination and teases him when he comes back from jail. after a while, though, she realizes that the questions about her Story mostly stopped when leverage formed, and stop completely once he proposed. nate never hears any version of her Story. she’s here now, and that’s all he needs or wants to know - just like how sophie is her real name in any way that matters.

the moment that sophie realizes this is the moment she stops caring about the real Story, the burden of the secret and the guilt and shame of keeping it from her newfound family. in that moment, she understands that what happened back then is just a small drop in the ocean, irrelevant to the life she’s built and come to love. she never tells them the story, and she never needs to.

[vigilskeep]

Im gonna be honest the Aveline/Donnic relationship always read really weirdly to me given the power dynamic, the fact that he hates her if theyr not married, Aveline getting mad about him hanging out with people without her knowing etc etc 😭😭 maybe Im just missing something but I dont see the appeal

does he rlly hate her if theyre not married lmao i’ve seen a couple of people say that but i haven’t played that version yet

it’s his complete lack of interest for me lmao like the way he’s bored out of his mind when she talks abt her interests and explicitly expresses his disgust for how pathetic someone would be if they needed a go-between and just seems completely uncomfortable and leaves when the whole thing gets revealed... and then they get together in like an offscreen conversation so none of that gets resolved at all jgshsjksk?? like why is he suddenly interested and how did anything abt the completely lack of chemistry suddenly change?? but the power dynamic is also something else. the way one of her flirt methods is literally to give him a cushy job that makes his colleagues hate him and she outright expects him to take a formal complaint to the viscount for how she behaved like what girl 😭

also WHAT was happening in these

when ur wife’s incredibly weird criminal friends are consistently incredibly weird to you but you hang out with them instead of your wife and make excuses not to bring your wife and don’t tell your wife. like. okay

[quotergirl19]

Colin’s Penelope:

Colin returns from his travels and discovers his sweet good-girl neighbor and childhood friend, his favorite timid wallflower who was always around obediently wearing some hideous yellow dress her mother forced on her, was practically a stranger to him now. She no longer seemed happy to see him whenever he approached her to say hello. Suddenly she insisted he address her properly as Miss Penelope Featherington, and she only ever seemed to have one thing in mind, suitors. Penelope adopted a new determined attitude, no longer offering Colin her endlessly encouraging niceties. These days he was lucky if she didn’t cut him outright, and she wasn’t wearing yellow anymore either, though she looked uncommonly lovely in her new dresses, Colin still found himself watching her and longing for even the smallest glimpse of yellow or a small bit of golden ribbon in her red hair… any hint she was still at least partly old Penelope.

His Penelope.

Colin had a vague recollection of once telling Pen that their relationship developed so naturally, it was easy to take for granted how loyal she was, because she was simply always there. Well he had taken her for granted it seemed and he never felt that more keenly than this season. Because she was still there, right in front of him, or just across the square from his family home and he saw her often at society gatherings, yet no matter how often Colin attempted to greet her or how warmly he tried to engage her in conversation, Penelope Featherington seemed determined to avoid him. She was always just out of reach and he missed her. He really missed her.

His Penelope.

Colin knew it was madness, because he had never spent that much time with Penelope before. Whenever they did have a moment to speak in the past, Eloise would appear to steal Pen away, or there was someone new and pretty to flirt and dance with, or one of his friends would seek him out. But he didn’t want to meet anyone new at present, and he didn’t want the company of any other friend, he wanted the company of his dearest friend, the woman he knew and liked more than anyone else. He just wanted Penelope. The Penelope from before. The one who was always on his mind, who smiled at him only in his dreams lately. Because his dreams were the one place she was still with him, lovely and sweet, dancing so gracefully, holding his hand and telling him he was astonishing and special to her. In his dreams she still believed in him and cared for him and he still made her happy. When he was awake he missed being able to make Penelope smile, he missed talking with her, and dancing with her. In his dreams making Penelope happy was all he needed… making her happy was his happiness. Just being with her felt like all he could ever need or want. Just Penelope.

His Penelope.

[circusmania]

Can you please do tusedere Jax that is in denial that he loves the reader. The reader is a girl that has a crush on him but nobody really knows .Shes very happy ,hyper and treats him like a bunny but changes emotions fast. Jax is extra mean to her at first because he is confused of his emotions and he gets flustered by her. (she constantly calls him cute) He always tries to play it cool but it doesnt always work. Finally Jax realizes he likes her and "confesses" (he just wrote " your not that bad I guess. Ill be at the s;ide at 3 if your not bus" on a piece of paper and slid it under her door ) and then they date after the reader says they love him.

Please change the story as much as you want! This was just to show how they act . TYSM for reading! :'D

Jax x gn!Reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 I changed the fem!reader to a gn!reader, since no pronouns are mentioned here. ♡ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

Jax was always known as "your classic troublemaker". He always had to have some snarky remark to throw right back at you. However, the cocky persona that he had built quickly started to fall apart when You joined the troop. There wasn't anything special about You, either. Or perhaps, there was something unique about You. Your overly cheerful personality. It sickened him. What could you find so happy in this hellhole? He hated how You always found a way to pull Pomni back up on her feet after a prank he pulled. He hated how You and Ragatha had managed to form such a close bond together. He hated how you'd always comfort Gangle after her mask broke. He hated how You care for that crazy old chess piece, Kinger. He hated how You made even Zooble smile. But most of all, he hated how You made him feel. He has been stuck in this digital circus for so long, he thought he was having a heart attack when You first talked to him. The ping in his chest was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. And he wasn't that welcoming to it, either.

He tried his best to make You hate him. He pulled pranks on You, made jokes about You, believe me, he's tried everything under the sun to make You hate him. In the end, he just started to avoid You entirely, but somehow, he always wound up right back to You. Was Caine playing a joke on him? You had noticed the change in Jax, who wouldn't? Thinking he had just given up on trying to play his pranks on you, You approached him. "What's wrong, Jax? Where is your usual cocky self?" He ignored you. Which was really weird of him, but did You give up? No. You kept pestering him, kept trying to talk to him, trying to see what would make him tic. Zooble found it funny and teased him a lot because of it. You had decided to take it a step further and just started outright flirting with him. Calling him "cute" and stuff. When Jax first heard this, he quickly turned his head away. Thinking you had offended him, You quickly apologized. "It's nothin'. Just go and bother that crybaby instead."

You reluctantly agreed, not wanting to offend him any more than you had already. He didn't want to shoo you away, he just didn't want you to see his flushed face.

As days (hours, weeks? It’s hard to tell here) passed, he warmed up to You more and more. You couldn't lie that the overgrown bunny wasn't in fact cute, and maybe you were catching feelings too. Now, there weren't many people to ask for advice on how to confess. And Jax had built his reputation solely on how nothing could phase him, and he'd like to keep it that way. So, he decided to go with the classic: writing a letter. But it wasn't going to be some love letter, he could never muster up that. It was more so just a simple letter Nothing more, nothing less. Jax wrote the letter, folded it like 10 times, slid it under your door and ran as fast as he could to not get caught. After an hour or so of listening to Kinger's theories, You happily skipped back to your designated room. You unlocked your room and almost missed the paper on the floor. It was terribly creased and begged to be opened. Inside was a messy-written message stating: "You aren't as bad as I had thought. Meet me by the forest if you want to hang out or whatever..." Your heart filled with glee, You had forgotten all about your exhaustion and hurried over to the forest. Your heart pumped with joy as You saw the familiar purple bunny. As he saw your figure getting closer, it didn't take him a magician to know what your answer would be.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

[corpsebasil]

How do you think knight!nikolai would deal with someone flirting with reader? Bcs like I think he'd want to be very possessive but at the same time he doesn't want to cause rumors that will ruin you so he ends up just being a fuming mess in the background and probably make an excuse for you or the guy to leave

On the reader's end though it would be hard to do anything at all if someone flirts with nikolai though because there's literally no reason to care that much about his love life unless you're jealous

gnawing at the bars.

this would most likely happen before you got together (in secret, duh) because now that he knows you’re his there’s no reason for jealously on either of your parts.

but.

lets say a prince from another kingdom was visiting in hopes of winning you over. you were the future queen, obviously, so you’d need a king consort. and this prince is actually super good looking, even if you’ve had your eye on your guard for a little over a year now. but that was impossible and you knew Sir Nikolai would never he would go for you or break his oath so you gave the prince a shot.

and you actually got along with him! not romantically of course—too soon—but he was funny. and kind. and those two facts are what royally pissed Nikolai off the most. because the prince was kind of HARD to hate.

unfortunately in forbidden love, sometimes both options are good options. Not every guy that isn’t the main love interest is the devil.

so he’d simply fume in the background of your little dates, your strolls and trips to town, your dinners and even—ONE TIME—during the moment the prince casually reached out to tuck a strand of hand behind your ear.

OOOOOOOH. Nikolai was so mad he wanted to chop that guy’s hand off and feed it to the wolves and then dismember him and then have him drawn and quartered and then put oil and feathers on him and dump him in the river politely ask him not to touch his princess without her permission.

It didn’t work out with the prince. For reasons you still don’t know to this day he’d left abruptly one morning after an extremely rushed and awkward goodbye.

cough. sir nikolai’s fault. his fault.

you on the other hand also couldn’t do anything about jealousy. because the closer your guard and you grew, the more you wANTED him. And there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

You were a bit more direct about your feelings, though.

you found yourself making snide comments about girls that openly flirted in front of you. you had once, when a maid stopped him in the hall to ask him something, been enraged when she placed a hand on his bicep. why do you need to touch him??? cant you see he’s uncomfortable???

he’d given you a quick glance, his typically stoic and blank expression suddenly pinching with slight confusion, and you schooled your features into neutrality. you realized you’d been openly glaring and if looks could kill, well.

“Miss.” You said sweetly, and she looked at you in surprise. you typically didn’t speak to the maids unless you needed something. “Please do me the favor of unhanding Sir Nikolai. Don’t you know it is improper to grope a knight?”

the maid’s face had gone red so quickly you would’ve thought you’d called her a thousand foul words, but maybe those were all written in your face. she mumbled a mortified apology and scurried off. when you crossed your arms, watching her go with an annoyed look, you heard a subtle cough. when you looked at Sir Nikolai he was smirking, but only a bit. his eyes though—filled with amusement.

“What?” You snapped, still annoyed, and he outright grinned. Your heart skipped a beat at that—gods he was gorgeous when he smiled fully at you.

“You’re—” he shook his head. the word he was thinking of was adorable. “—quite spirited this morning.”

“I am not.”

“She was hardly groping me.”

“I am the princess! If I say she was groping you then she was!”

“How kind of you—“

“Hold your tongue, Sir. I can have you punished for getting attitude with me.” You huffed and actually almost stamped your slippered foot.

but he still kept a smile on his face, amused with you, and you couldn’t fight the blush that rose when his eyes lingered. he didn’t say anything else—he didn’t need to.

you knew that he knew you were jealous.

[cerise-on-top]

do you have any rudy hcs lying around? asking for a friend 👀

Hey, there! Yeah, I was able to come up with some!

Rodolfo HCs

He actually prefers men over women. He will still date women, he has had crushes on them, after all, but he more often than not dreams about being with another man. This has caused him some distress in the past. Considering he realized he liked men very early on, he thought he was gay back then. However, later on he developed a crush on a girl and so he thought he was straight after all. The realization that he might be straight broke his heart because he really wanted to be into men back then. Yes, he was unaware that you can like more than one gender, so he felt bad when he had that crush on that girl. It took him another few years until he realized he could be bisexual. He met another guy who was quite the flirt, having flirted with men and women alike. Rodolfo didn’t mind that, but did question that guy about it. Once he had the answer of simple bisexuality, it clicked and he felt absolutely stupid for not having realized it sooner. To this day he’s friends with that person and sometimes still meets up with him.

Although he’s severely touch starved, he’d rather die than admit to that. No amount of touch could ever satisfy him. Besides, he believes that, just because he’s a man, he shouldn’t really be held in a comforting way, especially not by a woman. He’s a strong, protective guy, he has to be the one doing the protecting, and that includes doing the holding during cuddling as well. Sometimes he might be a bit grumpy because he just really wants to be held, especially when his stress levels are at an all time high. However, he can’t really swallow his pride and outright ask for it either, his partner would have to be the one to come up to him and make the suggestion. Fairly early on, he might refuse such advances from a female partner, but once he knows she won’t think any less of him for that, he’s more willing. If his partner is a man, however, then he’d be honored. Rodolfo genuinely believes that every man out there believes the same thing that he does in that regard, so he can appreciate a guy “willing to swallow his pride”. He doesn’t outright ask for cuddles, he will only hint at the fact he wants some with him. He could literally have a sleepless night, with being held being the only remedy out there, and he’d still not ask for any.

He’s not at all an outgoing person anymore. He used to be when he was a child, making friends left and right with just about any kid he ever found, but he outgrew that phase. No one knows why, not even he does, but he sometimes does miss being a people person, it would make some things a lot easier. However, he does have Alejandro in his life, who is an outgoing person that knows lots and lots of people. Whenever Rodolfo needs anything he doesn’t need to look for too long, Alejandro is usually right there. The two go way back with each other, having known one another for almost 20 years now. Whenever Rodolfo needs anything, Alejandro is the first person to know since he knows he can count on him. Although he usually asks Alejandro for someone who might be doing this specific thing or knows how to do it well, it’s usually Alejandro who helps Rodolfo regardless. Those two have grown very close with each other and can tell what the other needs without them even saying anything. Rodolfo does truly appreciate Alejandro for that, he’s never had a better friend than him. When Rodolfo moved, all Alejandro asked for was some beer and watching some movies together. Rodolfo would literally and figuratively die for Alejandro, but the latter usually tells him there’s no need for that. He’d much rather have Rodolfo take a break.