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itstheoneshot · 3 years

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Zodiac

Summary: You’re terrified to come face to face with your ex boyfriend, but it’s your roommates birthday party and he is invited. Your roommate promises to keep you two apart, but can he really keep that promise?

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Alcohol, Crying, BDSM.

You pull your skirt up higher, and tuck your t-shirt into the waistband, covering the tattoo that adorns your ribs, the Chinese Zodiac rooster, beautiful, bright, but a painful reminder of your past.

It wasn’t for him, I just thought it was pretty.

You walk out into your lounge room, where your best friend and roommate is busy cleaning. He looks up at you as you enter, and smiles in adoration, with his beautiful, sparkling, dark brown eyes.

“You look beautiful!” He says.

“Lulu, do I have to stay?” You ask him.

He stands up straight, and crosses the room to you. He puts his arms over your shoulders, pulling you in for a hug, reassuring and comforting you through his embrace.

“I don’t want to celebrate my birthday without you.” He says.

“I don’t want to see Zitao.” You reply.

Luhan steps back, and you gaze at him with a worried expression, wishing more than anything that you were not going to have to see your ex-boyfriend tonight.

Things had ended ugly, but mutual, neither of you had directly said that it was over, but after weeks of fighting, one day you just stopped calling him, and after a week of complete silence, you ignored the calls that he had begun to make.

Six months, it has been, since you saw him last. Every day just as painful as the one before, especially since knowing he has been invited to the party at your house, to celebrate your best friend’s birthday. You haven’t stopped thinking about him for a second, and you wonder if you ever will.

“I’ll keep you safe, he won’t come anywhere near you.” Luhan assures you.

You nod, though anxiety rises like bile in your throat, as you follow Luhan to the kitchen, to help him prepare. The guests will start arriving any minute, and you don’t feel ready at all for what is to come, only knowing a handful of people who are invited, you worry that Luhan will have to leave you on your own.

———

Two hours have passed since the guests have begun to show up, and you have followed Luhan around like a lost puppy the entire time. You’ve had a couple glasses of wine, but nothing more, and you are anxious every time the door opens, only to breathe a sigh of relief once you see that whoever it is, is not Zitao.

“Yixing!” You shout.

You are excited to see someone else that you know, and to feel like less of a burden on Luhan, allowing him the space to breathe and interact with the rest of the guests, and boy are there a lot of guests. You already dread the cleaning that this is going to require tomorrow, as you gaze around the room, and out into the backyard. Music blares, empty bottles and glasses are already scattered over tables and on the floor, though it’s not time for you to worry about that now.

“I’ve missed you!” Yixing replies.

Yixing introduces you to the woman he is with, his new girlfriend, and she is lovely, telling you how much she has heard of you. This makes you smile, as the last six months have been difficult, it is nice to know that there are still people who care.

Though your smile soon fades, as you hear a familiar voice through the crowd, two familiar voices to be exact, and you don’t even need to turn around to confirm your suspicions, as Yixing’s face says it all, glancing behind you and then back to meet your gaze.

“Luhan!” Yifan shouts.

“Yifan! Zitao!” Luhan shouts back.

You don’t dare to look, as your ex-boyfriend’s voice permeates across the room.

“Happy birthday, Lulu!” Zitao cheers.

Your heart palpitates, the sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. Yixing glances to his girlfriend, and you can tell that she understands him, that she knows about you and Zitao. You lead them to the kitchen, hoping that Zitao had not seen you already, and praying that Luhan would do as he said, to keep you apart for the night.

“You okay?” Yixing asks.

“I’m fine. Need another drink.” You reply, lining shot glasses up on the counter.

You ignore how much your hand is shaking as you pour the dark liquid out for the three of you, and you take the shot quickly, before pouring yourself another one.

“Slow down.” Yixing urges.

Though you ignore his request, taking shot after shot, as he tries to pry the bottle from your hands. After six or seven, Yixing manages to retrieve the bottle, and gives you a disappointed look, which you try your hardest to ignore.

“This isn’t how you face your problems.” Yixing says.

“I’m not facing any problems.” You reply.

“And you’re not drinking anymore, either.” Yixing says.

You sigh, though you know he is probably right. Your throat burns from the harsh liquor, and you fight down the feeling of your body trying to reject it. Yixing puts his hand on your shoulder, but you push him off immediately, and sprint out of the kitchen toward the bathroom.

You slam the door shut and lock it, before dropping to your knees in front of the porcelain toilet bowl. Grateful that you had cleaned it today as you throw up all of the alcohol you had just consumed. You think to yourself that it was a waste to have taken all of those shots, if you’re not even going to be drunk after vomiting.

Once you have nothing left to be sick of, you stand, rinsing your hands and face at the sink. You brush your teeth, while simultaneously fixing the streaks of mascara down your cheeks, and patching up your makeup so that you will look presentable when you rejoin the party.

Knock, knock.

“Just a minute! There’s another bathroom down the hall if you’re desperate!” You call out to whoever it was that knocked.

There is no reply, though this doesn’t surprise you, as now it’s been almost a few hours since the party started, people are definitely drunk, so you figure whoever it was, has stumbled away down the hallway to use the other toilet.

It’s not until you open the door, that you see how wrong you were, so wrong, so very fucking wrong.

Huang Zitao.

You curse under your breath, as you try to avoid eye contact, and you attempt to duck under his arm, which he has poised against the door frame, preventing you from being able to exit.

“Please don’t go.” He says softly.

“What do you want?” You ask him, your voice is shaky, and you stare down at your feet.

“Please talk to me,” He starts, drawing in a sharp breath before continuing, “Please, please talk to me, baby.”

You lift your gaze to meet his, and are met with his tear-brimmed eyes, wide, dark brown, almost black eyes. The eyes you fell in love with four years ago, the ones that you are sure fell out of love with you six months ago. You are furious, that he would call you by the name that he used when you were together, because you’re not together, you are apart.

“About what, Zitao?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Why have you ignored my calls, my texts, and everything else I have done, for six months?” He asks.

You watch as the first tear rolls down his cheek, and even through your anger you have to fight down the urge to brush it away, as you would have every time he cried while you were a couple.

“Why would I want to speak to you if you didn’t want to be with me? Was I supposed to pick up your fucking call just to hear you say ‘I don’t love you’, Zitao?” You shout at him.

Zitao’s lip trembles, as he processes your harsh words, and you impatiently await his reply, wanting nothing more than to get away from here before it hurts too much. You curse Luhan for leaving you alone, and make a promise to yourself that he will be paying for it later, after you make your escape.

“What? But I... I thought you didn’t want to be with me...” He trails off.

“The only thing I didn’t want, was for you to leave me.” You reply in monotone.

You push against Zitao with force, gaining exit from the bathroom where he had trapped you, and you sprint full speed down the hallway to your bedroom. You shut the door, and slide down to the floor with your back against it, just as the handle begins to rattle, and that all too familiar knock starts up again.

“Baby, baby please let me in.” Zitao cries.

You ignore him, as you use all of your strength to keep him out, you feel it as he shoulders the door, pushing against you, each time moving you forward no matter how hard you push back. He’s too tall, and too strong compared to your tiny frame, you want to scream at him to leave you alone, but you can’t focus on both screaming and holding the door shut at once.

You look up above you, just as Zitao’s fingers wrap around the doorframe, and he forces his way into your room. You jump up from the floor, and stumble backwards, wanting to be as far away from him as possible. Zitao shuts the door, and as if by reflex, reaches out to grab you by the wrist before you fall. For the first time in six months, you feel his skin on yours, and the connection sends fireworks through your synapses.

“Get out.” You say, though behind those words you scream the opposite.

“Please, baby. I can’t be without you anymore.” Zitao pleads.

You stare into his eyes, already bloodshot from the steady flow of tears, and you feel yours begin to do the same, though you are still so angry. Angry at him, for not understanding how much you had needed him, and angry at yourself, as you are coming to realise that he needed you just as much. Zitao lets out a wail, and you feel your heart tear in half.

“Shut the fuck up.” You warn him.

“Baby, please... I am sorry. I need you, please don’t push me away anymore.” He begs.

“Stop, Zitao. You left.” You say, though every second it gets harder to say no.

Zitao drops to his knees in front of you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, almost causing you to fall, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“I need you, baby. I can’t keep going on like this, I need you. I’m sorry.” He cries, his tone more desperate with every word.

“Shut up.” You reply, though your voice is softening.

You start to feel woozy, your emotions getting the best of you, as you listen to him repeat the same demand, over and over. You reach forward, and take the collar of Zitao’s t-shirt in your hand to steady you, not breaking eye contact as he watches your every move.

“Get the fuck up.” You order him.

Zitao stands up straight, now towering over you again. You look up at him, unsure of why you asked him to stand, and you lose focus as you can feel just how much he is shaking, but your grip remains tight around his collar for support.

“I am so fucking sorry.” He sobs.

You open your mouth to protest, but you are instantly quietened as Zitao presses his lips to yours. You feel his sadness, with his wet cheeks pressed against your face, as he cries into you. You kiss him back, unable to resist him anymore, he is your home, and you’re finally fucking home.

In an instant, Zitao’s hands are on your waist, and your hands are running through his beautiful, dark brown hair, you run your fingertips along the shaved lines in his undercut, fuck, you had missed this, holy fuck you had missed him.

“Zitao...” You breathe.

You pull him closer to you still, your kisses deepening, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. His breathing is staggered, as he continues to sob, he begins to explore your body, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt, desperately untucking the material from the tight skirt you are wearing.

His fingertips graze along the skin of your back, and you feel anxious as he reaches the outer edge of your tattoo. You feel his breathing hitch, as he pulls apart from you, and you let him pull your shirt up over your head.

Zitao holds your arm up, and you cover your face with your free hand, shielding him from being able to see just how fast your tears are flowing. You hear Zitao gasp as he inspects the tattoo, the one you got four weeks after he left, on the day that should have been your anniversary.

“That’s... that’s my zodiac.” Zitao murmurs.

You don’t reply, you’re lost for words, unsure of how to explain yourself. Of course it’s for him, everything you’ve ever done has been for him. It is just becoming clear to you now, to both of you, how much you had misjudged the other.

“You... you really loved me.” He continues.

“No, Zitao. I fucking love you.” You reply.

You don’t hesitate now, grabbing the older man by the hair, watching him wince as you connect your lips again. He is like putty in your hands, desperate to be moulded by you, to be wanted by you, just like you have been for him too.

You only break apart the kiss to tear his shirt over his head, exposing that perfect body, you trace the tattoo on his shoulder, but only for a moment before redirecting your attention to the man’s face in front of you.

“Please stay, baby.” He begs.

“Make me want to.” You tell him.

Zitao’s eyes widen, as he realises what you’re pushing him for. You’re still so angry, and there’s only one way that you’ll be able to get that deep, mind-destroying anger out of you.

“Uh— uh, yes miss.” He stutters.

You kiss him again, this time feeling him melt even more, though you stop to push him backwards, leading him toward your bed. He falls onto his back on the mattress, and you climb to straddle his hips. He stares at you with lost, wide eyes, as you admire his perfect face.

“I need you to make me feel like you used to.” You order.

“Oh, fuck... yes miss.” He replies.

You let Zitao roll you over onto your back, swapping positions so that he is on top of you, his hands are on your legs, desperately fumbling for the zipper on your skirt, needing the fabric off of you, needing your skin against his.

You lift your hips up so that Zitao can pull your skirt down, and he presses kisses up your legs as he makes his way back up to you. He stops for a moment to admire your new tattoo, and you can see how hard he is trying not to cry again. He places sweet kisses against the outline of the red and black ink, as he uses his other hand to reach under you, unclasping your bra, and then with his teeth he pulls the lace from your body.

“I just... I missed you so much.” He whimpers.

“Then show me.” You say.

With shaky hands, Zitao unbuttons his jeans, and then clumsily rolls the denim down his legs. You admire the ethereal man in front of you, as he climbs back up to hover over your body. A single teardrop falls to your cheek, and you grab him by the hair, not wanting him apart from you for a second more.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty baby.” He says.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Zitao.” You moan back.

Your hands trace down his front, hooking under the band of his underwear, desperately pulling them down, freeing his hardon, which is already twitching in anticipation. Zitao grabs at your panties too, touching you through the thin fabric, fuck he knows how to get you wet.

“May I?” He asks, tugging at the elastic waistband.

“You may.” You reply.

Zitao lifts your hips up, tearing your panties down your legs, freeing you, leaving you completely naked. His hand is back at your core, teasing your entrance, toying gently with your clit, overwhelming you.

You’re fucking desperate, and so is he, but you need him to know how much this hurt, he hurt you so much, and you hurt him, too.

“On your back.” You instruct.

Zitao nods eagerly, rolling over onto his back, he reaches out for you, but you push his hands away, pinning them above his head. You straddle his hips now, grinding down on his painfully hard cock, you can feel your own wet slicking him up, as he whines in anticipation.

You lift your hips, lining Zitao’s desperate, pre-cum leaking cock up with your hole. The steady droplets are the perfect lubricant, as you lower yourself onto him. Fuck you’re still so tight, and momentarily you regret not having him warm you up first, but you needed this, you needed to be filled with him, the stretch, the pain, you needed all of it.

“Fuck... ah—” Zitao starts.

You let go of his wrists, and his hands race to your hips, helping you as you bounce on him, while instead your hand raises to his throat, knowing just how much he loves to be choked. His jugular arteries protrude as you press on them, slowing the blood flow just the way he likes it, and he throws his head back, pressed hard into the pillows, unable to utter another word.

As you release a little pressure, Zitao raises his hips, throwing you forward, so he can thrust in from under you while he bites at your bottom lip. He’s not usually this feisty, you feel as if he is trying to tell you something, but you’re stuck on what it is. You push back to sit up, and step off from him, though you still want him so bad.

“Baby...” He whines, reaching towards you.

“No biting. You’re not behaving.” You warn him.

You see the look in Zitao’s eyes, and you come to the conclusion that this is what he intended for, as you reach under your bed, finding those pretty, metal handcuffs that Zitao brought home one evening years ago, and you smirk as you remember the way he so desperately pleaded with you to tie him up, ah, nostalgia in the form of arousal.

“Arms back.” You say.

“Yes miss.” He replies, throwing his arms behind him, gripping them together through the bars of the metal headboard.

You snap the cuffs shut around his wrists, and pull his arms just once, making sure that he can’t free himself. Zitao waits expectantly, though uncertain of your next move.

“Hmm... now where do I start?” You ponder.

From your position on his waist, you start by kissing his lips, then moving across his cheek, and down that perfect jawline to his neck. You bite him, hard, and he cries out, though in a mixture of both pain and pleasure, his hands ball into fists as he desperately tries to escape his restraints.

“Only I get to bite.” You tell him.

“Mhmm... I’m sorry miss.” He responds, his voice raspy, restraining himself from coming undone without you even touching his cock.

You mark down his chest, stomach, and along his hips, his breaths are heavy, as you reach comfortable position between his thighs, you gaze up at him as you lick seductively from base to tip, making direct eye contact the whole time.

“Ah- fuck...” Zitao cries out.

You hadn’t even had a taste yet, as Zitao’s legs jerk, and he releases, shooting up so hard it almost hits his neck.

“Fuck... shit, baby I’m so fucking sorry...” He whines, legs trembling under you as you stroke him, forcing out the remaining drops.

“You really missed me, huh?” You tease him.

Zitao moans, as you make quick work cleaning him up with your tongue, tasting the almost-too-sweet seed as you lick up his stomach. You take his twitching cock into your mouth, and the overstimulation has him close to screaming, begging you to stop as you make sure there is nothing left for him to give.

“I love you, I love you, I love you...” He sighs.

You smile at him, as he says the three words that you needed to hear. You let him go, and reach up to unclasp the handcuffs, rubbing his wrists gently, as they’ve reddened in the time he has tried to free himself. He kisses you, with enough force to knock you onto your back, pulling him down on top of you.

“Baby, let me make you cum, please.” He begs.

“I’m waiting.” You respond.

His hand trails down your front, finding comfort at your core. You’re so fucking wet, from riding him, and from watching him squirm as you made him cum prematurely.

“Zitao...” You whine.

With his thumb against your clit, he pushes his middle and index finger inside you, and you arch your back so that he can go in deeper. Working you like magic, you wonder how long it has been, though the way he touches you makes you feel like it has been no time at all.

“My beautiful girl...” Zitao mumbles, getting choked up again as he tries to focus on you.

“It’s okay, Taozi,” You assure him, “I’m here now, you’re here now... holy fuck...”

Zitao feels the way you begin to clench, and quickly moves down to replace his hand with his tongue, just as you tip over the edge. He moans into you, as you push back into his face, your orgasm overwhelming, but exactly what you needed, legs wrapped around Zitao’s head, crying out his name over and over again.

As your peak descends, you’re dizzy, and overcome with emotion as Zitao kisses up your stomach to your lips again, he cups your cheek, and stares deep into your eyes, just as you stare back at him.

“Don’t leave.” You say.

“I’m here.”

#Zitao #tao #Huang Zitao #smut #exo smut #tao smut #Zitao smut #fanfic #smut fanfic #Huang Zitao smut #kpop smut #cpop smut

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youngshiney · 1 year

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how i would run sm: Exo edition

starting a new series of posts in which i detail what i would have done for each sm group if i was in charge. im starting at Exo bc a.) theyre my ult sm group besides my beloved RV, b.) i think about them the most, and c.) they are where kwangya should have started properly instead of lsm/sm leeching off of their concept to apply to everyone else. anyway, under the cut bc this will likely be long

Early days (pre-debut to 2013): i have a few major changes, but nothing too out there.

first point of change: line-up and positions. Exo-K is fine as is, there isnt much to change about them besides Sehun and Kai needing more lines and better coaches early days to properly develop them like the rest of vocal line. Exo-M gets a major overhaul. first of all, Henry Lau should be leader instead of kw and even tho Luhan/Jongdae are both main vocal, they should cut their parts up more so Yixing and Minseok (and Henry) can shine as well. M has great vocalists, they should be used and while Minseok is perfect at everything, his vocals are underrated by p much everyone. Zitao should be the only rapper besides Minseok sometimes. putting kw was a bad move bc Zitao is their best rapper (equal to and sometimes better than Chanyeol) and he shouldnt have been put as lead rapper. the reason i chose Henry as leader btw is because he's friendly, a musical genius, handsome, and older while not being too much older than the rest of the group. he also wasn't doing much in suju since elfs wouldnt let him join the group and suju-m was a shitshow. he was wasted in that group and it shouldnt have existed.

second point of change: Mama should have gotten a webtoon/comic series to go along with their debut. Exo literally started the lore/storyline concept (afaik but please correct me if another group had an overarching storyline like they did), so why not actually flesh out the world/characters from the Mama intro and What Is Love? like a comic would have suited their story perfectly and would have drawn in a lot of interest, leading to a better reception of their debut.

third point of change: minor outfit issues. the drop crotch pants were ugly, Kai's Wolf hair, the entire Wolf era actually (besides pink Yixing and rainbow Sehun), uh the noose on Junmyeon for Mama. like so many style problems

fourth point of change: Miracles in December. K ver should have been Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon. M ver should have been Jongdae, Luhan, and Yixing. that's all.

Beginning Popularity and the Painful days (2013-2015): more changes! but mostly for promotions and schedules.

first point: Exo-M should have lived/worked in China, at least for six months out of the year. China was, and is, their biggest market and fanbase and they should have done more than like 3 Happy Camp episodes. They should have had more concerts and fanmeets and tv appearances in China, which also would have helped with the profit distribution and other issues. Tencent Video, iQiYi, and Youku all started around the time they debuted, and it would have been so easy to pitch a variety/reality show like Exo's Showtime to them, hell even a scripted show like Exo Next Door could have worked. Busking events and mini fanmeeting tours across China to replace music show appearances (ex. Boystory did a series of busking events which is along the lines of what I'm thinking of). i think doing that and maybe a shorter tour for Exoplanet 1 + 2 would have been better and allowed for more rest between cbs and schedules.

second point: 2014/2015 should have been the start of sm station songs, not necessarily the actual thing but the idea of members getting to make solo songs and mvs and release them. i think it would have helped with some of the creative frustration some members felt during that time (specifically Zitao). also they should have let members open solo youtube channels and soundclouds for the same reason.

third point: this era is important for visibility and impact so there should have been better quality schedules and more time for members to rest and heal. whats the point of having all those schedules if people are missing them constantly due to injuries or mental health issues?? better to have more memorable promotions than a lot of appearances. (i will never get over the fact that theres only ONE Call Me Baby stage with Zitao AND Yixing AND the fact that i will never hear the Chinese version live even tho Tao's parts are superior to the entire Korean version)

2016-2019: Lucky One, Monster, Lotto were great eras to continue the webtoon previously mentioned since so much lore was included in those mvs. other than that i have no issues really and the CBX debut was a great idea. no notes besides the fact that i would have had them do mvs more like Mama in that its all members but only their sub group sings instead of like Wolf or Growl where its ot12 in video and song.

THE WAR now here is where everything needs to change. besides Kai's hair (again bc sm never learns). so first of all, scrap Kokobop or make it a bside idc. its fun and all but the missed opportunity to make the Eve the title track makes me mad. and its not about the choreo bc i dont care about that, listen to the lyrics for both versions. its all about fighting a battle and the dawning of a new era and all that shit and it would have been so much better as the title for an album called THE WAR, not to mention the potential for the Exo storyline and perhaps even an X-Exo tease?? like the PLOT would have been immaculate (in my head anyway). Power is fine and gets no notes, wouldnt change anything especially the comic and album inclusions. oh also they should have worked around Yixing's schedule for The War

Tempo/Love Shot are also fine but i would have included more of the Exo storyline in the mvs and YIXING FOR LOVE SHOT. other than that, no notes. Yixing solo music, Jongdae solo music, Baekhyun solo music, SC are also all perfect.

Wildest years of their careers (2019-2021): SuperM was fine for Jopping but i would have changed the line up majorly (but thats for another day). also Obsession was perfect but i would have included the leaked footage. Junmyeon solo debut was also good (the solos are fine and i wouldnt really do anything with them changes wise). oh also how funny is it that Zitao did like two X-Exo concepts before Exo themselves (AB Style and AI). SuperM SuperOne was a mistake and shouldnt exist imo, like the songs are fine and i like some of them but there was no need to continue. Kai solo debut was also perfect and the nod to the Exo powers/lore was amazing

Don't Fight the Feeling was super cute and needed in Exo Planet and even though Yixing was a hologram, i was still happy to see/hear him. I would have done more promo for it but oh well, the Exo Arcade was good. Kyungsoo's solo debut should have had stages and performances even if it was just him alone in a room in the sm building. like there was no reason not to promote the album at all

2022: Exo Ladder was a really good idea and Junmyeon's Grey Suit was perfect. they were both the feel good content that Exols needed while there wasn't much going on. i would have had members maybe do a bit more solo/unit activities like maybe Sehun solo debut but it was pretty busy with Yixing's music and acting and Kyungsoo's show.

Minseok's solo album was decent, but personally i didn't vibe that much with the title or b-sides and I wish he had a better debut. but i wrote about that already when it came out.

small smtown mention: why the fuck didn't Yixing get to go bc he should have performed Love Shot with them bc he was there and he already knows the dance and he's a great vocal. like what the fuck sm

Future plans: SEHUN AND CHANYEOL SOLO DEBUTS, KAI3, KYUNGSOO2, MINSEOK2, JONGDAE ROCK ALBUM, EXO CB WITH YIXING, a totally self indulgent version of Phantom of the Opera with Jongdae as the Phantom and Le Sserafim Yunjin as Christine, SKY unit, Minseok/Sehun unit, my other self indulgent unit for Kai/Yuta/Joy.

overall thoughts: most of my changes are for early days and honestly i wouldnt change a lot in the later years besides capitalizing on the lore more and letting members have more freedom (creatively and personally). the divide between K/M should have been a little bit greater with only a few cbs in their career being ot12 since K and M were received and treated differently in multiple countries. i think maybe only the songs with lots of lore attached should be ot12 (thats with Henry btw). i think thats everything? if not, oh well its long enough anyway

#how i would run sm series #my thoughts #if anyone made it to the bottom and wants me to clarify or expand on anything lmk #happy to explain myself #doubt anyone will make it tho bc this is so long #just wait for red velvet's next week

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gamerwoo · 3 years

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[Tales from the Pack] Chan: Homewrecker (Part Five)

Characters: Chan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, not really fluff but not angst either??? idk lmao, oh mention of murder tho

Word count: 2,196

Summary: Chan caught your attention as soon as your eyes met across the market. Something about him drew you to him, and you knew you were meant to be. However, you were already taken and arranged to be married on your next birthday, so you could never be together.

Previous | Next | Homewrecker Masterlist

“Good morning, Seungcheol,” Soomin grinned over her shoulder as she scrambled up some eggs for the pack.

Wonwoo stood beside her, facing away from the stove, but keeping an arm around her waist anyway. His face was soft as he looked at her before pressing a chaste kiss to her temple.

“Morning, Soomin,” Seungcheol nodded before turning his attention to the multiple packs of eggs on the counter. Then he looked at the pup with a quirked brow. “Mind telling me what you were doing in the market?”

“Who said these were from the market?” Chan smirked. “_____ had extra. That bastard’s father gives it to them because _____’s his…you know.”

Donghae’s father owned a farm with chickens, and since your family ran a bakery, he often supplied you with eggs for free since you were his future daughter-in-law. But since Chan had returned to you every night for the last few days, you wanted a way to pay him back. He’d told you about his large pack, so you figured maybe a bit of food might help him out.

“That reminds me,” Soonyoung began, clearing his throat as he set his orange juice down on the table, “I asked Junmyeon about helping in case things with _____ go awry, but he said Luhan, Yixing, and Zitao were away for the next couple weeks. But they have some friends who he said are always eager to help anybody in need.”

“Another pack?” Seungcheol quizzed, surprised to hear this. He only knew of Junmyeon’s pack, except for Jiung’s pack that was pretty far away. “How many are there?”

“Eight, not counting their mates,“ the middle alpha continued. “But they’re a pack consisting of entirely special werewolves. Their alpha is a waterbender like Junmyeon.”

Seokmin suddenly gasped, “Isn’t that the pack Jia told us about? With the twins?”

“The firebender and the waterbender,” Soonyoung nodded, “I remember. It’ll be interesting to get to meet the twins in person. What’re their names?”

“That’s Jiung and Kyung!” Danbi exclaimed excitedly, remembering the pack that had helped her and Mingyu before they were found by their pack. They still went to visit them every so often, as did Eunjin, but the trek there was quite the journey.

“What’re you talking about?” Yeji wondered, not knowing about this other pack that only a few members had met before.

“This one pack helped us out a couple times,” Jihoon explained briefly. “They help out anyone, really.”

“Why would a pack that doesn’t know people want to help them?” Jooyeon asked, not understand that logic at all. “What do they gain from it? Didn’t they say before that’s how some of their pack died?”

Wonwoo shrugged, playing mindlessly with Soomin’s hair as she cooked. “Some packs are just…friendly and helpful.”

“There’s still good people in the world, thief,” Joshua stated, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Says you of all people,” she spat back.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Jiung had arrived with a few of his pack. There were three other men with him, but Jiung was holding one by the waist, and looked at him the same way Chan looked at you, so he wasn’t sure if he was just a mate or a werewolf as well.

He also noticed that Jiung didn’t have Korean features at all. He weren’t sure where the older was from – he had more of a brown skin tone, with black hair that was in loose curls on the top of his head but shaved short on the sides, almond eyes, and he was about as tall as Mingyu – but he had a Korean name. The pup wondered what his story was. Maybe he moved here from his homeland hoping for a better life as a werewolf. Chan made a mental note to ask.

“It’s great to see you again, Seungcheol,” Jiung greeted the alpha as he walked into the house. “It’s nice coming to visit you for a change instead of members of your pack coming to us. I’m excited to meet your entire pack, finally.”

“They’re excited to meet you, as well,” Seungcheol nodded with a friendly smile as he gave a short greeting to the others. “Where’s your sister? Eunjin was hoping to see her again.”

Jiung let out a laugh, nodding, “I’m sorry to disappoint. She’s feeling a little under the weather lately, so she stayed home.”

Seungcheol led Jiung and his pack into the living room where his pack was already gathered -- save for Eunjin who was upstairs sleeping since she left the house the night before in one of her trances and was screaming at nothing in the middle of the woods -- ready to meet this ‘super pack’ that they’d heard so much about. Danbi was more than excited to see them again, bouncing her daughter in her lap.

“Let me introduce my brothers, and my mate,” Jiung shifted the subject after warm ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet yous’ were exchanged, gesturing to the two men behind him. “This is Jaesang – he’s a shape shifter – and Hanbin – his power is speed. And this is my mate, Chanseong.”

Seungcheol’s pack gave their short introductions as they all settled into the living room. The pack couldn’t help but notice that Hansol and Soonyoung kept sniffing around Jiung and his pack – Hansol specifically seemed to have an interest in Jiung, though – and Chan wondered what their problem was. Nobody else was doing it except for them, so what was the deal?

Seungcheol let Chan explain the situation to the few members of Jiung’s pack: you needed rescuing, and the mates at home needed protection. Jiung and his pack listened intently, nodding to everything said. When the explanation was over, Jiung cleared his throat.

“We can definitely assist,” Jiung assured the pack. “If anything bad happens to the house, we know of a place big enough to house you all. We moved after suffering a devastating loss to our own pack, so that house will have more than enough room. It’s near a town that’s so big, nobody will really notice anything suspicious.”

“Seriously?” Soonyoung’s eyes widened. “It took us forever to find this place and then make it as big as it is.”

“We can take some of you to see it if you want,” Jiung offered with a shrug. “It doesn’t take too long to get there in wolf form, y’know.”

Judging from the empty backpacks three of the four boys had on their backs, Chan could tell they had gotten there in wolf form and gotten dressed in the woods beforehand.

“The three oldest can go,” Jihoon shrugged. “Soonyoung and I will hold down the fort here.”

Chan immediately sat up straighter, “Can I go?”

“This is all for him,” Seungcheol pointed out. “I guess you may as well.”

So it was decided the youngest could go with, as well as Jooyeon who refused to be left behind in case Seungcheol didn’t make it back before dark. But she was told that if she wanted to go, she had to help Chanseong carry the backpacks of clothes while the wolves ran to their destination.

The wolves slowed at a large house in a clearing full of flowers, and Chanseong helped Jooyeon down once they stopped completely. They shifted without caring who saw, thought neither of the mates really stared, too used to situations like this.

“I hope you don’t mind we stopped at home quickly,” Jiung said as he tugged his shirt on over his head. “One of the girls in our pack likes to visit the town by the house we’re going to show you. She’s originally from there, actually.”

“Oh, is she a mate?” Jeonghan asked, finishing buttoning his trousers.

“She…was,” Jiung sighed. “Her mate was murdered, but her and my sister, Kyung are the only two who witnessed it.

“She did get imprinted on by someone else, but they’re...working their issues out. I won’t say too much about it right now.”

Jiung led his visitors up to the door and it was open before they even reached it. A girl that was a few inches shy of Jiung and looked very similar to him stood in the doorway, her golden eyes scanning the faces of those she could see: Jiung, the two wolves with him, Chanseong, and Seungcheol.

Chan’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d heard of the female werewolf, sure, but he’d never gotten to actually meet her before.

“Hey,” she greeted her alpha with a smile. “See you brought more wolves, huh?”

“And a mate, actually,” he corrected. “Where’s Rika? We’re headed up to the old house.”

“Ah,” the girl nodded before turning away and walking deeper into the house, “I’ll find her.”

“That’s my twin sister, Kyung,” Jiung told your pack as he gestured for them to follow him in the house.

“Where are you from, Jiung?” Chan finally spoke up.

Jiung looked over his shoulder, smiling at the youngest, “Kyung and I were adopted by a Korean family while we were in America. They were trying to save children who were abandoned from a bad war we had at the time. We did have other names before, but our adoptive parents re-named us Kyung and Jiung when they brought us here. We’ve lived in Korea since we were about one or two, but we’ve traveled a bunch before deciding to settle back here.”

Joshua said something cheerily in English, and it made Jiung fully turn around and smile the brightest smile, showing off a pair of dimples. He replied back to him before turning back around, and reverting back to Korean.

“We had a good relationship with our adoptive parents, though,” he continued, so he assumed whatever Joshua said was related to the current topic. “They were the ones who told us we should leave since the town didn’t take kindly to werewolves. Kyung is the younger twin, but she showed the signs first. They assumed I would have the same gene, so we both left with the money our parents gave us. We try to visit them from time to time, though.”

Jiung led the small group into a living room full of other people. Seungcheol and his pack noticed there was another girl with golden eyes, who also didn’t look like she was from here. She just barely caught sight of the pack before she suddenly disappeared from their sight, as if she had gone into thin air. Chan’s eyes widened, but nobody else seemed to notice.

“Nice place…” Jooyeon murmured as she looked around.

“Don’t even think about doing anything,” her mate whispered to her, and she frowned.

“I wasn’t!” she whined.

Jiung gestured for Seungcheol’s pack to come forward so he could introduce them. As Jiung was explaining the situation, Kyung returned with a smaller, doll-like girl.

“I found her,” the curly-haired girl reported.

The girl they assumed to be Rika gave a little wave before introducing herself to them. She leaned against the back of the couch that was occupied by Jiung’s pack, and she tilted her head to one side as a small, casual smile settled on her lips.

“So what am I needed for?” Rika wondered.

“We’re having a pack meeting,” Jiung stated. “Seungcheol’s pack is in need, and we’re going to help them.”

Chan’s eyes zeroed in on Kyung, who had moved to sit at the arm of the couch and was moving her lips in words that he didn’t hear. He thought it was strange, but he didn’t say anything about it.

A female voice was heard that wasn’t understood by most people in the room, and Seungcheol’s pack couldn’t find the source. Jiung’s pack, however, knew exactly where -- and who -- it came from.

“We helped two of their pack in the past, and you all remember Eunjin, but this is bigger than those,” Jiung continued. “A mate is in danger, and we have to help them retrieve her from town.”

The girl that had disappeared seemingly out of thin air had done the same thing again, but this time, reappearing at the end of the couch beside Kyung. Her expression reminded Chan of Joshua, looking up at her alpha with eyebrows raised and a look in her eyes that almost said ‘you’re so stupid’. She spoke to him again, the same voice they’d previously been looking for the owner for coming from her lips.

Jiung let out a sigh before saying, “If one of us imprinted on someone who was in danger and we needed help, we’d want someone to do the same, wouldn’t we?”

His pack nodded and mumbled their agreement. Reluctantly, the strange girl nodded, but rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She continued mumbling to herself, but Chan had no idea what she was saying. It seemed she only knew how to speak English.

Jiung gestured to the free couches and chairs before he sat down himself. Seungcheol and the others took their seats before the foreign alpha leaned forward, “So, should we start discussing plans? We have a mate to save.”

191 notes · View notes

drwcn · 3 years

Text

#9 【Carbon in the Steel】

cql au: everyone is an orphan except wwx; dark!twin jades

The Brothers Lan

There was once a little house, on the outskirts of a farming village beyond the tiered rice fields south of Meishan, far, far away from Cloud Recesses. Both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji remembered that house. It was the house Father had built for Mother, and it was there that they were born.

It sat at the base of a hill where many tall bamboo trees grew, and in the garden, there had been gentians, indigo and violet, that bloomed beautifully every summer.

Lan Xichen would dream sometimes of that house and of the wonderful days in those early years.

Father, look!

Excellent form, A-Huan. Very good. Much improved. Now, remember to keep your balance on your front…

These days he could no longer recall Father’s face. His voice though, Lan Xichen still remembered as clear as a bell. On the other hand, his brother Wangji did not remember much of Father at all; instead, it was Mother’s smile that he could never forget.

Mother, can A-Zhan and I stay with you and Father tonight?

P’ease, Mo’her.

Lan Xichen remembered hugging his baby brother like a doll and strategically weakening his parents’ resolve using his baby pout and big puppy eyes. A-Zhan was always a trooper, so cooperative, so excellent at looking like a perfect toddler. Stoic though. So stoic for a baby. What a weird kid.

We had a bad dream.

Bad dweam.

Those were obviously lies. They never had bad dreams then; those would come much later, when their reality became worse than any nightmare they could ever imagine.

Jiujiu never needed to tell them that Mother and Father were dead, or what death was. They’d seen plenty of creatures die: the village’s cattle they butchered for the new year, the spinster's kittens that didn’t survive the winter, and the pheasants they caught and roasted for A-Zhan’s birthday.

Father had been a lifelong vegetarian, so eating meat didn’t agree with his stomach, but he never enforced such rules on his sons. In fact Father didn’t enforce any rules on his sons, except to show kindness where they could and to be true to their hearts.

Father probably didn’t anticipate just how difficult it was to be kind when the world had been so wholly unkind. Nor did he anticipate that he would die in such a violent and sudden manner without even so much as a goodbye.

I don’t remember what were the last words Father said to me. Wangji would confess to Xichen one day. I don’t even remember what Father looked like.

They were by the marsh catching lobsters with jiujiu when it happened. Mother suddenly appeared and spoke words that were foreign and frightening - Gusu Lan, cultivators, siege, pursuit, escape. Go. Now. She didn’t hug them or kiss them. Lan Xichen remembered Wangji reaching up towards her to be picked up and the confusion and heartbreak in his eyes when she pushed him back into jiujiu’s waiting arms.

A-niang...

At a certain point, jiujiu must’ve done something to them, because neither Wangji nor himself remember any part of their journey out of that village. When they woke up, they were somewhere high up and deep in the mountains. His little brother had looked at him and he had stared back and they both knew then that their parents were dead. Curled in their jiujiu’s arms, they cried themselves into another fitful sleep, and all the while, jiujiu didn’t wake up once, too exhausted by the endless days of travel.

To them, jiujiu - like all adults - was old, but it was not until they grew up that they realized that Zhao Zhuliu at the time of their parents’ demise had been no more than twenty years old, barely more than a boy himself.

Life with jiujiu was quiet, but after some time, they were able to find a sliver of happiness.

Zhao Zhuliu was a quiet man, always had been, and that didn’t change just because he now had two young children on his hands. But he loved them, his sister’s only blood left on this earth; by god, he loved them beyond reason.

Jiujiu was not a talker, but he was never distant, and though he was strict in his training of their cultivation and their swordsmanship, he was never harsh. So yes, life was quiet, but at least for a while there was a roof over their heads and food in their belly, and they never had to wonder where they would be tomorrow…

When jiujiu failed to return from his night-hunt, Lan Xichen knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

Lan Xichen was the older one; he was thirteen. Practically an adult, he told himself. If jiujiu never came back, then he was just going to have to take care of Wangji.

Whatever it takes.

His brother was not a needy child, but when he turned eleven, he seemed to have found his appetite and ate everything Xichen could get his hands on. Fishing was the easiest and hunting a big game lasted them a while if he could preserve it just right, but even if he collected berries in the mountains and wild herbs in the forest, he still needed grains, still needed new clothes for the winter, and still needed oil to light a lamp at night so Wangji could continue to practice his calligraphy.

He did try; you must know. Lan Xichen did try to do things the right way, but there was only so much money he could earn by book-keeping at a shop, or running errands for merchants, or even waiting tables at an inn. He was a child, and desperate, and nobody would pay him a dime if they could get away with a nickel.

It didn’t take long for Xichen to learn that the fastest way of earning money was often the most unsavoury and that he wasn’t above reaching for those means. There were no lengths Lan Xichen wouldn’t go to keep his brother safe and happy, no asset within his arsenal of skills and attributes that he wouldn’t hone and weaponize to make himself stronger. He got good at stealing, got great at cheating, and grew accustomed to killing. Every so often...if there were other offers available, well...Wangji would never need to know.

Morals do not matter if Wangji went hungry. I can’t let Wangji go hungry.

And, once a year, Lan Xichen would buy a box of osmanthus pastry, like the kind Mother used to make for them - flakey and fragrant, rich but not overwhelming - and he and Wangji would sit together under the stars and finish the box all in one go.

“Happy birthday, didi.”

Chewing slowly on the osmanthus pastry, Wangji would smile, and it would all be worth it.

“Thank you, xiongzhang.”

Then, three years after jiujiu was taken, a startling news broke out over the lands.

After years of internal strife, the dirty politics of Lanling Jin finally fractured the once glorious reigning sect. Jin Guangshan’s many children and their scheming “little mothers” formed factions and allied themselves with subsidiary sects all vying for control over Lanling’s seat of power. (小娘 xiao’niang = little mother, what one calls one’s mother if one’s mother is not the legal wife. The “real” mother of any children would always be the legal wife, while their birth mothers are ‘little mothers’.)

The details of Jin Guangshan’s demise was not entirely clear, but eventually it was his third son Jin Zitao who became the new Sect Master Jin. Being only eleven years old, it was clear to anyone who had eyes that he was a puppet, completely controlled by the whims of his regent mother, Jin Guangshan’s once favourite concubine, and the ancient respected Qin family who had promised their daughter Qin Su to be his bride once they both come of age.

People had praised Qin Su’s stepmother, Sect Master Qin’s second wife, for securing such an advantageous marriage for a daughter not even of her own blood, stating that with the Dowager Madame Jin’s clever mind and Sect Master Qin’s seniority and experience, surely the murky pond of Lanling would become peaceful once again.

The bigger question now was with three of the five major sects being led by minors - Qishan’s 14 year-old Wen Yuefan, Yunmeng’s 13 year-old Jiang Wanyin, and Lanling’s 11 year-old Jin Zitao - who then would become the next Chief Cultivator. Qinghe Nie seemed the most obvious choice at first glance, for they were the fiercest warriors, but given Sect Master Nie Heqiu’s most recent close encounter with yet another qi deviation, it seemed perhaps the real day-to-day leadership role was fulfilled by his first son Nie Mingjue. At seventeen years of age, he was certainly older than his contemporaries, but still a far cry from what was required to be His Excellency. (温越凡 Wen Yuefan = Wen Qing’s courtesy name)

Naturally, all eyes were drawn then towards Cloud Recesses, whose previous chance at obtaining the seat of Chief Cultivator had been dashed when its sect master at that time, Qingheng-jun, mysteriously vanished more than a decade ago. Now it seemed that Gusu Lan’s fortune was about to change yet again, when what once should have gone to Lan Cenrong now fell to his younger brother Lan Qiren.

News of his rise to power had spread far and wide, until every man, woman, and child knew his name. Until Lan Xichen heard from a gossiping bar-keep at a tavern. Until Lan Wangji heard from the children playing on the street.

One morning Lan Xichen returned to their temporary home to see Wangji sitting in front of the breakfast he’d prepared (when did he learn to cook???) and a purse on the table filled with silver coins and small gold nuggets.

“Wangji...where did you -”

“I don’t want you to go out at night again, xiongzhang,” said Lan Wangji bluntly.

Taken aback by Wangji’s tone and his implications, Xichen quickly gathered his wits and tried to maintain control of the conversation. “That doesn’t answer my question; where did you get the money?”

“I also went out last night, after you assumed I fell asleep and left.”

Xichen’s blood went cold. “You...went out? Out? In the middle of the night?! To do what?!”

Lan Wangji’s stoicism did not waver. “What one usually does to get paid at night. What you’ve been doing for years.”

In three long strides, Lan Xichen strode up to his little brother - his baby brother - and yanked him up by the collar. Grabbing his arms with both hands, he forced Wangji to look him in the eye as he exclaimed in a mad panic, “You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!!”

God, Wangji, what have you done, what have you done - how could I let this happen - I should’ve done better -

Wangji did not blink, but after a long terrible silence, he said, “No. I didn’t. I just followed you. I saw.”

“You saw…”

There had been a man who eyed him with interest. Lan Xichen wasn’t looking for business - hadn’t been looking for months - but winter was coming and Wangji was growing so much he would need several new sets of robes. Xichen hadn’t been working as many hours as he’d been previously. He needed to train, to cultivate - they both did - so that one day they could do what needed to be done. The core melting technique was not to be trifled with lightly, jiujiu had warned them. They needed time to practice, to perfect it, time that couldn’t be used to earn income.

While yes he could steal and yes he could kill, Lan Xichen realized early on that those two options often caught the attention of local authorities or worse the local cultivation sect, especially if his activities were too frequent or too conspicuous. Sometimes it was just easier…

“The money, then?”

“Don’t you recognize the purse?”

Xichen turned around. He did. He did recognize that silk embroidered draw-string purse. It belonged to the man from last night. He had taken money out of it this morning to pay Xichen for his time.

And when they parted ways, Xichen had gone to a public bath house to get rid of any incriminating evidence on his body before going home to his brother. That was his routine... had been his routine for years…

“I shoved his body down a well. That should buy us enough time to get out of this town. You weren’t planning for us to stay that long anyway right?”

“Wangji…Wangji -” Lan Xichen turned away. He couldn’t face his brother, who now knew what he knew.

“Xiongzhang, don’t do this for me anymore.” Lan Wangji’s hand found his own, squeezing it tightly.

“It’s - it’s really not a big deal.” Lan Xichen tried to laugh it off. “I don’t do it that often. Really - I am your older brother, it is my duty to -”

“No. No more. From now on, if you go out, I go out. I’m old enough -”

“You’re thirteen, a child!”

“So were you.”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know I’m done waiting.”

Lan Wangji was talking, of course, about their vengeance. It was what they spoke of on most nights when they couldn’t sleep. For mother and father and jiujiu, they swore they would not rest until they razed Cloud Recesses to the ground and burned the core out of every last one of their disciples before slitting their throats.

Wangji came around to face him again and stared him down with his brows furrowed tightly above bright determined eyes. “It’s not fair. The Chief Cultivator was supposed to be Father! The heir of Gusu Lan is supposed to be you! Instead - instead...”

Tears welled up in his little brother’s eyes. “They hurt you, ge, I saw. I saw.”

Choking with shame, anger and a pain he couldn’t describe, Lan Xichen pulled Lan Wangji into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Wangji. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I’m...” Words failed. As Lan Wangji cried into his chest, Lan Xichen looked up to their leaky roof and their bare, striped walls, and wondered what the ethereal Cloud Recesses would look like. All that should have been theirs, should’ve been his, belonged to someone else.

Lan Qiren is Chief Cultivator now. He’s still holding jiujiu captive. He needs to die. The people who killed Father and Mother; they all need to die.

“You’re right, Wangji, you’re right. No more.”

“So you won’t leave at night anymore?”

“I won’t. The world has taken everything from us, I think it’s time we take what we are owed. Once we are strong, we will save jiujiu and avenge A-die and A-niang.”

“And if people try to stop us?”

“Then we will destroy them and anyone else that gets in our way.”

#cql #the untamed #twin jades #lan wangji #lan xichen #cql ficlet #corie fics #carbon in the steel

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yehet-me-up · 4 years

Text

Fractions of Tomorrow

Pairing: Zitao/Reader (female)

Word Count: 10,249

Rating/Warnings: PG13

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

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

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

February 28, 1997

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows to wet his throat. ‘Sure.’

‘Name?’

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

‘Zitao,’ he says finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel it, don’t you?

- Rumi

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

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

Friday July 18, 1997

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’

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

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

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

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

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

'Twenty three.'

'Did you go to school?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What?’ you practically groan at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Afraid of being caught?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Love?’ The word thunders in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

― Pablo Neruda

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