#(hugh did not pass the vibe check)

[iamselfmade]

@spacetimewriter (Lore)

By the time he’d been fully rejected by the Collective, the Enterprise was long gone. The Collective returned him to the moon, left there with the wreckage of the crash that almost killed him. Somehow, he’d managed to get a distress signal up and running and, terribly sad, stood amongst the wreckage.

He could still see the footprints of his friends in the snow. His heart twisted and ached at the thought of the Enterprise, of Geordi and Beverly and Picard, and how he wished they would respond again.

They were gone. Off doing who knew what, whatever it was they got into. Based off of the memories downloaded from Picard upon his assimilation, a whole lot of shenanigans.

Hugh was cold. He was sad. And he was so utterly, terribly, painfully alone. The only living creature on a moon that orbited a similarly empty planet.

Someone who was so permanently altered by his rescue the Collective refused to take him back. What was so wrong with him that he’d be so unwanted? And why did it upset him so much that he was considered unworthy? What was this strange burning in his eye?

His face crumpled. Something like an internal dictionary told him he was beginning to cry.

[thealmightyemprex]

Random reviews:Ice Station Zebra

In honor of the recent passing of Jim Brown who I know for performances in Dirty Dozen and Mars Attacks, I wanted to check out one of his movies and fel upon Ice Station Zebra

In this 1968 film Submarine Commander Farraday (Rock Hudson) is sent on a mysterious mission ,on paper to save some scientists ,but on board are marines and three mysterious individuals :Mr Jones (Patrick McGoohan),Boris Vaslov (Ernest Borgnine) and Captain Leslie Anders (Jim Brown )

So two of the most interesting parts of this film are more historical then the film itself

1.Patrick McGoohan filmed it while on break from the Prisioner,and used his earnings to finance that show which wasnt doing well

2,.....Howard Hughes was obsessed with this film ,and watched it over 100 times ,and this is pre VCR.He owned a TV station and DEMANDED the film be aired 100 times

Now that I got that out of the way ,I liked this movie ,but I can see how other people wouldnt .The film is directed by John Sturges ,who directed classics like Magnificent Seven and Great Escape .The film he directed this most reminded me of is Bad Day at Black Rock ,in that both films are mysteries that kind of ....Spin in place .In both films you are thrown into a premise not knowing who to trust and getting no reall answers till act three ,with the intended effect bening your gonna want to know the answers so you'll be invested.This type of story telling will either pull you in cause you wanna know what the hell is going on...Or repel you cause it is frustrating cause the film isnt giving you an inch and you cant really invest in anyone .Wit this film I was defintely in the former camp because I went in blind and genuinely wanted to know who was hero who was villain....Granted I did find the answers either underwhelming or a bit confusing,but it was executed well so I didnt mind (I in particular did not like the reveal of who the villain was cause it felt like an obvious choice but damn that actor sure knows how to play a great villain )

The four main actors are what makie the film.I'll admit Rock Hudson has the most thankless part ,being the audience insert while also being a stoic military man ,but he gives a good performance,I like Rock Hudson ,and he gets a good moment near the end .Ernest Borgnine is pretty enjoyable as a likeable Russian ex pat ,and Jim Brown is perfectly autoratitive and enigmatic (The pair get a scene together that is wonderfully juicy ,showing their respective strengths as actors ).THE scene stealer however is Patrick McGoohan who is wonderfully shady as a spy ,that I never quite knew what he was going to do

The sense of danger and coldness is palpable here with thrilling set pieces as well as a sense of paranoia .Apparently John Carpenter is a fan of this film,which does not surprise me cause it reminded me of the Thing (I kept waiting for a monster or something crazy to happenn ,it has an almost horror movie vibe )

So yeah this was a solid espiaonage thriller

@ariel-seagull-wings @filmcityworld1 @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @amalthea9 @angelixgutz@goodanswerfoxmonster @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - January 2023

#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check December's review for more music.

Welcome to 2023! We begin the year with a collection of songs that are filled with the hope and desire to see revival in individual hearts across the world, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

Dynamite Shakers – Broken Space Spirit

I feel like I'm locked in I can't find a way out Everything seems to crush me

We begin the year in St-Hilaire-de-Riez, France with a band that makes Garage Rock so seriously fun that takes its vintage roots, and goes to a different level for a bass and guitar groove:

"We wanted to compose a song that could fit as an intro for our gigs, so we wanted it to be long and dynamic. We were very inspired by the song “Starfire 500” by Amyl and The Sniffers (an australian punk band that we adore)."

Socks In Bed – '75

Hot off the press in '75 Were you quick to write your name inside? How did it fall away from you?

Was it a gift from a lover With a certain verse in mind? Or was it fuel to feed a fire? To untwist words from a tongue so tied

This band from Leicester, England, brings us a mystery in pure Pop Punk form. To whom does this mysterious name belongs? And why and from where did this object came? Take a listen, and make a guess:

"The song is about an old book of poems that our lead singer James Deacon was gifted and decided to write a song about Lesley Matthews, the name written inside the book."

Smoking Alaska – Days With No End

Nothing to do but dust off all the memories Searching for clues to balance out the chemistry Playing it safe I don't wanna go back home To all my mistakes, growing tall while left alone

The days are getting longer and I wonder if I'm left behind It just keeps feeding time The distance is still growing it's not showing any end in sight It's still feeding time.

This band from Duiven, in the Netherlands, shows how Alt Rock can trace back time to an endless drive passing by all the warning signs:

"After ending a relationship I felt stranded and uneasy on what to do next. It's then when covid hit the Netherlands the hardest and strict lockdown policies began. The days after this felt long and blended together, each day feeling very similar to the next with a lot of time to dwell on the past. That's essentially how the song 'Days With No End' started."

DRAG – Let's Make Out

We’re bare to the bone in the moonlight But skeletons don’t fear the night A river of passion’s between us We’re just waiting for a raft so we can cross

Your whispered words are hard to hear But they feel great against my ear Your lips are softer than snow And we just melt into the pillows

From Bristol, England, comes a Synth Pop track with all the right 80s vibe that could easily be featured in a John Hughes film:

"It was actually inspired by meeting a new person and the first nights being intimate. It’s meant to be a really tender song and I hope it comes across that way :)"

Vigilantes – Tigerwall

If these walls could talk they'd say she's strange, He dropped a drink she spilled her change, He found the version of himself he liked, Now it's diffused in the flaccid light,

Oh Tigerwall, What's in your thoughts, What's in a kiss that won't repeat?

Last stop, Lincoln, England, for a Indie Rock song that can transport you with its intimate lyrics to those late nights drives with friends just looking for fun:

"Memories of a car park in the late evening and driving a friend’s car for the first time inspired it ❤️

Also it’s just inspired by that whole dusk in the winter vibe and being inside the bars we spent a lot of time in."

#MusicMonday 2022

We say goodbye to 2022 with this year's compilation. 99 titles from original artists covering plenty of different genres, all representing the multiple trends independent artists are proud to establish. Have a listen:

Stay up to date in 2023 with the complete Playlist

@osornios

[neutrallyobsessed]

Exams of the Ace Attorneys

if I had a nickle for every respected doctor that cheated on their exams I'd had two nickles, which isn't a lot but considering I'm not into medical dramas and just so happen that the two medias I like that have doctor protags have cheated is more than a huge coincidence...

In any case, that got me thinking about if the ace attoreney characters have ever cheated on their exams so here's a list of my headcanons

Have in mind that this isn't about the bar examination, since that's a more lengthy process, and while you probably can cheat in any of the steps, it's a more complicated issue for me to think about... so maybe for another post (or you can steal this concept idc). This is about the exams and tests taken in law school to get the degree necessary for taking the bar exam in the future

and here it is:

Phoenix Wright: yeah?? by virtue of being the protagonist I think he cheated a couple of times, specially when he was jaggling with the art degree but he stoped when he ditched the arts and concentrated in law, what kind of lawyer could he be if he cheated (more)?

Apollo Justice: he didn't cheat, but sometimes he wishes he did lol

Athena Cykes: she cheated once but will tell you that it was the professor who left a loophole so it wasn't really cheating (but was it?)

Mia Fey: she has prepared cheat sheets for test she didn't feel all that confident but didn't actually use them so she didn't get to cheat

Diego Armando: yeah he did cheat, but it was more of checking that his answers were correct rather than looking over before answering (and never to Mia uwu <3)

Lana Skye: no, she would never

Neil Marshall: not only he doesn't cheat, but snitches on cheaters

Marvin Grossberg: he cheated once and felt really guilty about it, never again

Robert Hammond: actually I don't think he cheated. i know it's obvious for the bad lawyer to do bad things like cheating but i think is funnier if he didn't xd

Gregory Edgeworth: he didn't cheat but let others copy off him <3

Miles Edgeworth: he didn't cheat but lets other copy his wrong answers and when they turned over their exams he would erase and turn in the correct answers <3

Manfred Von Karma: NEVER CHEATS. PERFECT SCORE ALWAYS. PEOPLE SAYS HE DID BUT HE DIDN'T. HAS SNITCHED ON MANY CHEATERS that's kind of why people think he cheats

Franziska Von Karma: she didn't cheat on law exams but has on other classes. like who cares that the mithocondria is the powerhouse of the cell when ballistic markings being the fingerprints of a gun is much more interesting?

The Payne Brothers: they cheated a couple of times yeah, they won't admit it but they did

Klavier Gavin: didn't cheat but thinks Kristoph did

Kristoph Gavin: yeah he did cheat but thinks Klavier did too so there's no problem

Simon Blackquill: i don't think he did... if he got to prosecute despite being a convicted felon then that could mean that he's really fucking good at his job, meaning he didn't cheat (or maybe Edgeworth isn't inmune to Blackquill's manipulation who knows?)

The Students of Themis Law Academy: not only most of the students cheated but it's actually encouraged to do so. end justifies the means and such. it's only bad if you get caught 'cause if you're not going to be good at the exams, at least pretend that you are good En el caso que nos compete: Myriam is the best, Hugh is the worst, Juniper is the exception and Robin just done it a couple of times~

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: he doesn't cheat and sends cheaters to The Hell of People Coming Into Your Room And Not Fully Closing The Door When Leaving

Dhurke Sahdmadhi: i don't know really..... i want to say that he would never, but he has that vibe that he has done it at least once...

Raymond Shields: look eating the answers of an exam BEFORE taking an exam is NOT cheating, ok????

Sebastian Debeste: y'see is not that he cheated per se... but his dad made sure he passed and if it wasn't for him, he couldn't approve any of his exams... so Sebastian himself didn't cheat, it was his father's doing y'know

Blaise Debeste: oh yeah he totally cheated lol

Jill Crane: another non-cheater but snitcher

Jacques Portsman: no, he would never! that's not sportmanship-like! >:( (unless?)

Byrne Faraday: hahaha yeah, he has cheated but would never tell that to Kay (i mean, how could he?.... spoilers aside). Tyrell would tell her tho

Calisto Yew: she pulled a Furio Tigre in all of our faces, she's never been a lawyer to begin with! she's never taken the bar exam, she never took law school, she doesn't have a degree on anything, she didn't cheat on tests, SHE CHEATED THE WHOLE ASS SYSTEM!!!

Bonus: none of the judges cheated but all of the detectives did

btw the doctors I referred to are Kenzo Tenma from Monster and Derek Stiles from Trauma Center xd

[blueskrugs]

Ours | Joel Farabee

this fic was planned for a different player, but by the time I got here, I decided I wasn’t vibing him anymore, and decided to skip writing it. clearly, that didn’t quite go as planned. somehow, beezer just keeps happening. have fun with this bitty break from the angst!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin​ @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline​  @thebestoffanfiction

length: 3k words

Seems like there's always someone who disapproves They'll judge it like they know about me and you

You’d started dating Joel the summer before your senior year of high school. Joel was back in New York after a year in Michigan with the USNTDP, and you’d bumped into each other one morning while you were both out with friends. You and Joel had been friends growing up, but Joel had moved away for hockey when you started high school, first to Connecticut, then to Michigan. It had been hard to keep in touch, sporadic Snapchats and comments on each other’s Instagrams, but you’d fallen back into each other like no time had passed at all. You started spending your days together, Joel showing up at your door early in the morning, and not leaving you alone until long after the sun set. He dragged you along to his workouts, and you went, mostly complaining and checking Joel out, but it was time spent together. You both knew those moments were precious. Joel would go back to Michigan in the fall, then he would get drafted, and you were going to be off to college in another year yourself.

Joel kissed you for the first time on the Fourth of July, because he was nothing if not cheesy and cliche, on a blanket in the middle of a field as the fireworks show started. You ended up missing most of the fireworks because you were making out in the tall grass, except for when a particularly loud firework startled Joel so badly he jumped, knocking his forehead into yours, and he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder while you laughed. 

You knew people thought you wouldn’t last, that it was just a summer fling. Your parents called you “cute,” but you saw the looks they gave each other when they thought you weren’t looking. It didn’t make sense that you and Joel would last, but you and Joel made sense, so that’s what mattered. 

You loved Joel, with his hand tucked in the back pocket of your shorts as you walked down the street, and you loved Joel in the here and now. As foolish as it was, you weren’t concerned with the future, not when you could turn around and your best friend was right by your side. 

You did try and break it off, actually, when Joel left again at the end of the summer. It had been a mutual decision, although neither of you were particularly happy about it. You promised to stay in touch, but you knew how that went. You expected your messages from Joel to taper off and end well before Thanksgiving.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. Joel called you for the first time after he’d been gone two weeks. He’d been texting you most days already, but you were just getting home from school when your phone rang, Joel’s familiar face filling up your screen with a FaceTime request.

“Hello?” you asked, dropping your keys and heading for the kitchen.

“Little Jacky here doesn’t believe I have a girlfriend back home,” he said instead of greeting you, dragging a disgruntled-looking Jack Hughes into frame with an arm around his neck. Joel fumbled his phone in the process, and all you could see for a few seconds was their foreheads. 

“Is it because you’re an idiot?” you asked. You sat down at your kitchen table. Joel pouted at you, but Jack grinned. “And you don’t have a girlfriend back home, bud. We broke up, remember?” 

Joel rolled his eyes as Jack laughed triumphantly. He shoved Jack off and leaned closer to the camera. “Yeah, but that was, like, a technicality. You still love me, right?” he asked. 

You smiled a little helplessly at him. “Yeah, Bee. I do.”

Your texts and phone calls with Joel never did drop off that year. Joel called you frequently for help on homework, even though you went to different schools, and half the time you just suspected he was looking for an excuse to talk to you. It was just before Christmas when he FaceTimed you late one night.

“I miss you,” Joel whined. He was in bed, glasses on and hair mussed from his pillow.

“You’ll be home in like, a week and a half,” you said, not really looking up from your notes where you were studying for finals. The USA boys didn’t get a whole lot of time off in their schedule, but they still had a few days around Christmas. Joel had been looking forward to coming home for weeks.

Joel groaned. “No, I know, but like. I miss you.”

You looked up at that and raised an eyebrow at Joel. “You’ve said that already, bud.” You weren’t really sure what his point was. You missed him, too, but you talked almost every day.

“What would you do if I kissed you when I come home?”

“I- what?” you asked. It was late, your brain was fried, but you were pretty sure you hadn’t misheard Joel.

Joel rolled his eyes. “I miss you,” he said again. “I miss dating you, I miss being able to call you my girlfriend. I miss you.” 

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” you said, aiming for annoyed and landing somewhere near fond. “Michigan’s pretty far away,” you said next. You knew Joel was leaning towards Boston University for next year, which was closer, but not by much, and you still didn’t know where you wanted to go after high school.

“We can make it work,” Joel said confidently.

So Joel kissed you when he came home for Christmas, beanie pulled haphazardly over his hair as he stumbled out of his dad’s car in front of your house, fresh off the plane. His lips were cold against yours, but familiar, and you leaned into it, until one of his brothers yelled at you to get a room from the car. 

Yeah, you could make it work.

So don't you worry your pretty little mind People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard

You’d never understood how people could be so mean to people they didn’t know, hiding behind the anonymity of the internet to hurl cruel comments at someone. You’d posted a picture of you and Joel to your Instagram, something innocuous that one of his brothers had snuck of the two of you over the summer, and you hadn’t thought anything of it.

Your post had quickly been flooded with comments, the kind ones easily outnumbered by the hostile ones. You spent far too long scrolling through them, you knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. Comments on your looks, what you were wearing, how Joel should break up with you, or how you didn’t deserve him. They held nothing back.

You were still staring at your phone, unshed tears welling in your eyes when Joel came home after morning skate. His hat was on backwards, and his shoes weren’t tied. He dumped his keys and his wallet on the shitty little table he kept by his front door and turned to talk to you.

“Hey, so I was thinking, for lunch we could- whoa, what’s wrong?”

For some reason, that was the final straw, and you started sobbing. Joel rushed over to you, dropping his phone to the floor with a clatter onto the hardwood floor. He ignored it, instead settling next to you and pulling you into his lap. You buried your face in the front of Joel’s shirt and let yourself cry. You were still clutching your phone, and Joel gently pried it from your fingers. You could tell the moment he started reading the messages still on your screen; his whole body went tense, and his hand tightened on your hip to the point it was almost uncomfortable.

“Joel,” you whispered.

Joel loosened his grip, but he didn’t hand your phone back. 

“Fucking. Assholes,” he muttered under his breath. You watched as he turned off commenting on the post and then switched your account to private. He tossed your phone to the side and pulled you close to his chest again. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he said to you. “I never wanted this for you.” 

You sniffled. “I just don’t get it,” you mumbled into Joel’s neck. 

He huffed. “I don’t either,” he said. Then, like he was forcing himself to stay upbeat, “They’re just jealous.”

You smiled a little and pulled back so you could see Joel’s face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m so lucky I get to date an NHL player,” you said.

Joel made a face at you. “Nah, I’m the lucky one. They just can’t believe I bagged such a fuckin’ rocket,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek

You laughed and dug your elbow into his side, until Joel burst out laughing, too. He tilted sideways, and you let him press you down into the sofa cushions. You linked your fingers behind his neck as he leaned over you. He was still grinning.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked, suddenly serious. 

“Yeah, I know,” you told him. 

Joel ducked down for a quick kiss. “And fuck what anyone else thinks,” he added.

You were both still laughing when you tugged him in for another kiss.

And it's not theirs to speculate if it's wrong And your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong

In the end, you’d gone to Philly for school rather than following Joel to Boston. You both knew he’d end up in Philadelphia himself sooner or later. You knew that your family didn’t love it, that they didn’t think you and Joel were going to last— still, despite making long-distance work for the latter half of your senior year— that they worried about you, and as much as they did like Joel, they were wary of the career he was chasing and the lifestyle that came with it. 

Boston and Philly weren’t exactly close, but you both had a little more freedom than you’d had in high school. You found time to see each other on long weekends or breaks from class, sneaking each other into dorm rooms and cramming close together on those twin XL beds. (You made it up for the Beanpot games, where you watched BU get their asses kicked, twice, but you don’t talk about those games.) 

You were there in the Farg for Joel’s NHL debut, and then again a few weeks later when he scored his first goal at home. Lucky for you, Joel decided he was gonna stick around in the big leagues for a while, so then you were there in Philly, together. 

You liked the way Joel’s hand felt in yours. He liked to twine your fingers together as you walked down the street, and he could swing your joined hands between you, or while you were driving, and he could reach across and pull your hand from the steering wheel to rest on the gearshift with his. His hands were always warm, and a little dry from spending so much time in ice rinks, but the shape of them was familiar, from the calluses on the side of his thumbs from holding his stick, to the way he chewed on his fingernails when he was bored, to the way the felt on your bare skin. 

“Do you ever think about it?” Joel asked out of the blue one day, absently running his thumb over your fingers.

“What?” You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to keep up with the weird ways Joel’s brain worked.

“Where we would both be right now if we hadn’t gotten back together senior year,” Joel said. He was still staring up at the ceiling.

“Not really. Why would I be thinking about that?” you asked. “Wait, why are you thinking about that?”

“I’m not!” Joel was quick to protest. “I just was thinkin’. Jake said something to me before I left for BU, how I would’ve been better off being single, so I could hook up with anyone I wanted.” You snorted a laugh, and Joel elbowed you, but you both knew Joel was hardly the type for one-night stands. He’d always loved a little too much for that. “And then some of the guys were chirping me the other night for being one of the ‘old marrieds’ because all I wanted was to come home to you,” he admitted.

You laughed again and reached to tangle your hand in Joel’s hair. “Does that bother you?” you asked.

Joel flushed. “No. I like coming home to you,” he said softly.

“Good, because I like you coming home to me.”

'Cause I love the gap between your teeth And I love the riddles that you speak

“How come you never smile with your teeth?” 

“Huh?” Joel asked, looking up from his phone. Technically, you were watching a show together, but neither of you were paying much attention. You poked him in the thigh with your toes, right where his athletic shorts were riding up, and he grabbed onto your ankle and shook your foot gently.

“In pictures,” you said. “You never smile with teeth, or smile at all, really.”

“Because I look dumb,” Joel said, not quite looking at you.

“You are dumb,” you said automatically, but, like, lovingly.

“Fuck you, I went to college,” Joel shot back, but there was no heat behind it, either. “No, but, like, my smile looks dumb. I feel like you can never even see my teeth when I do smile, so I just. Don’t, I guess. My lips are, like, weird, I dunno.”

You sighed. Joel definitely wasn’t looking at you now, and his shoulders had creeped up towards his ears, every muscle in his body tense. You did your best to kick him— gently— with your ankle still tightly in his grasp.

“Hey. Bee. Look at me.” Joel met your eyes and bared his teeth at you, a mockery of his real smile. “I like your smile,” you said.

Joel huffed. “You have to say that, you’re dating me,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes and pulled your ankle free so you could crawl across the sofa and into Joel’s lap. His hands found your hips, his thumbs pressing gently into your skin beneath his hoodie you were wearing.

“No, I have to say that because it’s true,” you told him. You linked your hands behind Joel’s neck and brushed your nose across Joel’s. He grinned, wide and very real. “See, there it is,” you said, and then Joel was kissing you, your teeth clacking because you were still talking and he was still smiling. 

And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos Will be ignored 'Cause my heart is yours

You remembered when Joel got his first tattoo, the Bible verse on the inside of his wrist. You’d teased him about it at the time, because, “Could you be any more basic, babe?” but you often found yourself running your fingers along the lines of it, in bed in those moments between dawn and morning, or when you were lounging on the couch together. It was calming, in a way, the repetitive motion across the familiar black ink. Joel usually squirmed after a while, complaining that it tickled, but he still laid his arm across your lap every time you settled together on the couch.

Your dad made some jokes about it, when he saw it the first time, because he’d always thought tattoos were trashy and dumb. Joel had taken them in stride at the time, but you could see in his eyes that they bothered him. You just held his hand a little tighter underneath the dining room table. 

Neither of you said anything about it until later that night, when Joel was laying with his head on your chest in bed. “Do you think your dad really cares that much about it?” he asked quietly. You couldn’t see his face but you could hear the worry in his voice, and you knew he had that little crease between his eyebrows he got when he was upset about something.

You laughed quietly. “Nah, he was just giving you shit,” you told him. Mostly, you didn’t add. 

“Promise?” Joel asked, only half-joking.

You raised Joel’s right arm to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the ink there. “Promise.”

Joel went with you when you got a tattoo of your own, and he idly said, “We should get matching ones one day.”

You raised your eyebrows at him until he blushed and ducked his head. 

(You did chirp Joel to hell and back for the crown he got on the inside of his middle finger, because seriously, what the fuck.)

The stakes are high, the water's rough But this love is ours

You would never say that your relationship was easy. You and Joel made it look easy, sure, but it was an easiness that came from years of navigating around each other, knowing when to push and when to back off, when it was okay to go to bed angry, or when to kiss and make up.

A hockey schedule was rough on any relationship��� long road trips and late nights and early mornings— but it was all worth it when you were able to watch Joel light it up on the ice. Through all the tough moments that tended to plague the Flyers, and through his own injuries, he’d never managed to lose his love of the game, and you loved him that much more for that. 

They’d been lumping you in with the old marrieds from Joel’s rookie year, so it only made sense that you eventually, officially get married. (Joel nearly dropped the ring in a lake when he was proposing because he was so nervous.) The wedding was in New York in the summer, and when Joel kissed you under the fireworks to the enthusiastic cheering of his teammates— because he was still cheesy and cliche— you remembered all the time you’d spent worrying over your futures together. It might have been foolish to fall in love before you’d even turned 18, but this love you had wasn’t foolish at all.

[yehet-me-up]

Reboot

Pairing: Jongdae/Chen x reader (female)

Word Count: 26,971 😬 read it in a mobile web browser if it crashes! 

Rating: (PG13) for swearing + sexy vibes (nothing more explicit than a kiss on the page though)

Summary: Chen’s Electronics is a mystery, both how the store came to be and the man running it. When you start working as a receptionist for the enigma that is Kim Jongdae, you’re determined to be the one who unravels the mystery. You’re prepared for anything, except for falling in love with Jongdae himself. 

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

A/N: I’m SO delighted that Jongdae is getting his IRL happily ever after and I’m so excited to wrap up his fictional counterpart’s story today, so he can have his ending as well 💕

March 15th, 1997

Capitol Hill is in full swing, the promise of spring drawing the sleeping city from its winter hibernation. The silver dress you wear is far shorter than you're used to, but the denim jacket is big enough to properly cover your ass, which is something at least. In your platform boots, borrowed from your roommate Liz, you're almost tall enough to see over the busy street to Cal Anderson Park up ahead.

'Come on,' Liz says with an excited glint in her eye. 'The club's just on the far side of Boylston.'

You nod distantly, eyes wide as you try to take in all the people around you. After spending the last two years buried in a book in the UW library or at internships or in class it feels startling to realize how much youthful, passionate energy beats at the heart of the city so close to where you've been existing. Not that you never go out, but now that you’re approaching the end of your master’s degree you feel like a diver finally reaching the surface to draw breath. You’re ready to celebrate.

A door opens to your right and music surrounds you. An impassioned man sings about an even flow, accompanied by an aggressive drummer and what you can tell is skilled guitar playing. The people on the sidewalk beside you press in, screaming and cheering and trying to shove their way into a club. A faded sign above announces it as Moe's Bar.

Your roommate's hand finds yours and she pulls you out through an opening in the crowd.

Once you’re free again you laugh and brush your hair behind your ears. Dozens of other clubs and bars and late-night restaurants you pass are the same. Men with mohawks in every color of the rainbow. Women in combat boots with plaid jackets tied at their waists. A group of teenagers skateboard down Broadway, hollering into the night as they fly by, the clack of their wheels muffled by the lingering rain dampening the streets.

Everyone seems taken by the revelry. It would be so easy - to disappear into the thriving mass of people celebrating music and community and being alive. Now, with graduation so close you can finally taste it, you surrender to the sensation. Tilting your head back you look at the round full moon above, peeking out through the clouds, and give a joyful, if tentative, howl.

This makes your roommate turn and squeeze your hand. Liz smiles with pride. 'Now that's the spirit!' she says with a fist pump and howl of her own.

The nightclub is unassuming, especially amongst the neon and metal venues you passed to get here. Two simple brass lamps spotlight the enormous carved wooden doors. Bass thumps from within, the slight rattling of the doors is the only indication that life exists within. Shari’s reads the hanging sign.

Liz practically glows under the lights, a North star leading you into a whole new world.

After so many years of keeping your nose to the grindstone - success gained through effort rather than extraordinary intelligence; advanced classes, extra college courses during the summer, every extracurricular you could pack in before you cracked, a high school diploma by sixteen, bachelors by twenty and MBA by twenty two - you would follow her anywhere as long as it didn't involve studying or a business suit.

She guides you through the heavy wood door into a small entry room. A large man with so many piercings he'd have a terrible time at the security scanners at the airport checks your IDs. It's stayed in your wallet, practically untouched, since the official one came last year on your twenty-first birthday.

Finally inside the club you bite your lip to hide a wide, giddy smile of excitement. Bodies fill the dance floor, joyously swaying to the beat. A DJ booth rises from a far corner like Sauron’s tower in the Lord of the Rings. A man with dark hair that falls in his intense eyes runs the booth; a king commanding his loyal subjects.

Liz finds her group of friends from the mall she works at spread over two successive tables with circular cushioned benches behind them. Their names and faces blur together in the low lighting, but everyone is welcoming, offering you a smile or a shake of a hand. A cheerful blonde-haired man, who you swear says his name is Bacon, takes you and Liz’s coats and purses and adds them to an overflowing pile beside him.

Before you can even think of sitting down Liz guides you onto the dance floor. Normally you’re the one in control. The one with the plan. The group leader or the one who organized the debate team fundraiser/supply closet at work/networking mixer. But it’s… nice, not having to be the center of everything, keeping it together with your effort alone. 

She gives you a teasing smile as if she can read your thoughts and you roll your eyes with a laugh. ‘No overthinking this!’ she commands with a raised brow as you find a good spot.

As if I have any other way of thinking. ‘I promise nothing!’ you shrug and smile at her.

Your movements are slow at first, awkward, and you laugh to yourself with amusement. Self-deprecation has never been your poison. Along with an unshakeable drive to make something of yourself you've always had a healthy sense of self-esteem. Who cares if you aren't the best dancer?

You get into the swing after the second song and shake your ass with delight at the energy in the room and the incredible job the DJ is doing loosening you up. He’s remixing “Semi-Charmed Life” with an older techno hit you don’t recognize.

Before long Jongin, Liz’s crush and co-worker from the KOKO exercise studio, captures her attention and you end up dancing with Baekhyun (tragically not actually named Bacon) and a girl who calls herself Hitchcock. You recognize each other from a seminar last school year at UW and take a long break to catch each other up on your lives over shots at the table. 

She tells you about her dual jobs at Microsoft and the movie theater at the Exodus Mall. You fill her in on your thesis project and she offers to look over your resume as you plan to apply to a similar track at the tech giant after you graduate.

When Liz said she was forcing you from your obsessive, ahem dedicated, studying for your research paper you didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t all of this. Reconnecting with a friend. A potential foot in the door at your dream job. Dancing so much that your back gets slick with sweat. Laughing with Liz so hard your stomach aches as Baekhyun attempts to breakdance, nearly falling backwards into no less than four people.

As if the night couldn’t get any better, something else catches your eye. Someone else - the DJ steps down from the booth on a break.

His black pants, white shirt, and tie would be overly formal and out of place in the nightclub, but his pushed-up sleeves reveal muscled forearms. The neon yellow sunglasses and loose piano pattern of the tie he wears make him look sexy, in an off-duty retro businessman kind of way. His face reveals none of his emotions as he slips off his shades, tucking them in his jacket pocket. But the corners of his lips tilt up with amusement as he scans the room.

Clearly he’s impressed with the atmosphere he’s created here tonight. As he should be, you think. You imagine for a moment what it would be like if he noticed you. If this was a meet-cute or the start of something. But his focus is on the bar now, not lingering on you or anyone else in the club. Dating for you was a rocky road and absolutely nothing like the way it looked in the John Hughes movies that were your guilty pleasure growing up.

Between your parents' support and your own innate thirst for success, you always felt like an outsider in terms of relationships. Extroverted and empathetic enough to make and maintain friendships, but boys were tougher. You could never figure out dating to your satisfaction in high school and you left when most of your peers were just finishing up Sophomore year.

In college there was hope. Studious and hardworking men with glasses and a love of Emily Dickinson and black coffee. Law school-bound guys who rowed crew and whose confidence was just on the right side of attractive instead of insufferable. John Cusack types with easy smiles and crates of vinyl they carefully collected, who performed at the Comedy Underground in hopes of ‘being discovered.’

It was both thrilling and irritating. You went after dating with almost as much determination as you did your school and career, set on experiencing everything possible.

But the English major wanted someone in a pastel dress and tights, who volunteered at an animal shelter and didn’t eviscerate him at Scrabble. The future lawyer was looking for his future trophy wife, to stand beside him at fancy dinners and fraternity mixers. And the Lloyd Dobler wannabe needed a muse, a beautiful and ethereal woman to be his object of longing, to laugh at his jokes and pass through life without worry about the future.

Not that you were jealous, or even bitter. Just because you weren’t what they were looking for wasn’t anything personal and you never took it like it was. The women they wanted existed and were wonderful in all their own ways. But it grated at you, how you always felt like a square peg in a round hole. Never being the right fit.

All your life you’d gotten used to knowing, and getting, what you wanted. It was insanely frustrating to not have found anything that stuck. Failure in any form made you frown, but thankfully romantic mishaps always took a backseat to school, friends, and your future, so it was easy to ignore. Until now.

The DJ passes close enough to you and Liz that you can see the echoes of dark circles under his eyes and the rich brown of his hair in the passing neon lights. For some reason that same intuition, that same hunger and drive that had propelled you to awards and scholarships and countless other successes, tells you to follow him. Whatever it is about him, your body and your desire react before your mind and conscious rational thought.

'I'll be back,' you yell to your roommate over the music. She nods and gives you a thumbs up as she's drawn into Jongin’s embrace once more.

Like a missile you weave through the crowd, target in sight. You watch as the DJ leans against the end of the bar, carefully positioning himself so he's at the end with no one behind him. You wonder if it's out of a dislike of people sneaking up on him or if he's a predator, sizing up the crowd.

With a casual hand he orders a drink from the bartender and surveys the crowd coolly. Too high on life to care too much, you take the seat two over from him, carefully avoiding eye contact, feigning nonchalance. ‘Self-possessed,’ that’s how your fifth grade teacher described you. Independent and old beyond your years. It always thrilled you, the praise and respect of adults. You wanted to earn more of it, to be seen as capable and mature.

But something about the man beside you makes you feel younger. Raw and playful in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.

Admiring the cut of his jaw, you imagine kissing it. His hands on the bar are graceful, strong, befitting his profession. You want him and you want him to want you. The thought makes you inhale a deep breath, not even sure what that would mean. Adrenaline and delight fill your mind and you briefly fantasize about him holding you close on the dance floor like Jongin does to Liz. His hands on your hips and his mouth teasing your neck.

The bartender reappears on your side of the bar, his bald head gleaming in the lights of the club, and you snap back into reality. The flames tattooed across his knuckles shine as he slides a drink down the length of the bar, towards the DJ. An impulsive, reckless daring you've only ever felt before at debate tournaments makes you reach out and catch the glass of dark liquid before it can reach its desired recipient.

In one smooth motion you lift it to your lips and turn to meet the DJ's deep brown eyes. With a smirk you raise the glass. In two gulps you down the drink, the bourbon burning its way down your throat, reminding you how good it feels to be free, to be alive. 

To challenge someone who feels like a decent opponent.

He watches you, his eyes flaring with surprise before fading back to indifference. He looks like a tiger in a cage at the zoo, pacing in front of a glass divider. His fingers tap impatiently on the lacquered bartop and he tilts his head, watching as you lick the moisture from your lip, savoring the taste. You wonder if he'd be just as heady and strong on your tongue.

You have the feeling that with the slightest pressure in the right place and the glass would shatter, unleashing the beast within. The thought makes you clench your thighs together, a heat filling you that has nothing to do with the people pressing in on you trying to get the attention of the bartender.

The DJ seems just as self-contained as you are. A voice inside you whispers of unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects and you wonder which of you would cave first.

Before you can say anything, before you can even wipe the satisfied smile off your lips or ask his name or offer to pay for the drink, he drops a bill to the counter and slides off the stool. He pushes into the crowd, disappearing as if he'd never been there. As if he hardly noticed you.

But you didn't miss the interest, the arousal, the animal within him rising to your challenge. He slinks back up to the DJ booth and resumes his position of power, thirst unquenched.

You don't know his name, or anything about him. Aside from the fact that the way he looks at you feels so wrong it's right, and that his hands are the first ones you've ever wanted wrapped around your waist so badly you can feel it beating in your palms.

But you know one thing, as you rejoin your roommate on the dance floor, whatever has started between you and the enigmatic DJ isn't finished.

May 21st, 1997

You straighten your blazer, looking in the mirror to make sure your outfit is perfect. It’s not your first interview this week and it certainly won’t be the last, but it is the one you’re the most curious about.

The position as a receptionist and accountant for an electronics repair store isn’t exactly how you pictured your first job after getting your MBA, but the pay and the opportunity to work alongside the enigmatic tech genius Kim Jongdae is a chance you can’t pass up.

All that’s left is the graduation ceremony in June and then you’re free. Your final exams are done, your thesis is defended, and you’ve completed a thorough and perhaps slightly obsessive spreadsheet documenting all your connections who might have an in at your most desired companies. Now knee-deep in the process of interviewing for jobs it strikes you all of a sudden that this is what you’ve been working for… almost all your life.

The lighting in the bathroom of the mall is stark and a moment of uncertainty makes your knees weak.

Since your test results in elementary school came back top of the class it’s been the same refrain. Get good grades. Impress your teachers. Study and diversify your interests and push harder every year and eventually it will all pay off, right? You’re damn proud of what you’ve done, but now, here in the after, all you can think as you watch your own reflection is - now what?

Frowning, you wonder how many other applicants there are for this job. Anyone in the tech circle in Seattle knows about Jongdae. Rumors abound that he was set to be the next Bill Gates when an investment deal went south. Or that he was kicked out of Harvard for embarrassing his professors with his superior smarts. Someone in your Econ seminar once told you she’d heard that he was contracted by the NSA to spy on foreign hackers.

Whatever his history, he currently runs a computer and electronics repair store in a very unassuming mall in Capitol Hill. You want to stand out, and what better way to do so than the track down the mystery of Kim Jongdae, the prodigy turned hermit. You infuse your veins with confidence, knowing you can handle anything thrown at you. Or so you think.

The mall is quiet and peaceful in the mid-morning on a Wednesday. A couple of tables in the food court are filled with older men and women playing cards and board games. A group of moms walks past you talking about a storytime at the bookstore in the mall.

The slow and steady hum of activity in here is a far cry from where you thought you’d be working. Professors encouraged you to head to IBM or Oracle. With your skills, business sense, and intuitive ability to pick up each new trend in technology they told you that you would have your choice of opportunities.

But while you’re no stranger to hard work and a competitive work environment, the idea of clawing your way to the top of yet another group of high achievers just sounds… awful.

You long to travel, to finally see some of the exotic and culturally rich places you’ve stuck photos of to your fridge. You want to be able to actually go out on the weekends and see your friends. Whatever your future holds you want to finally enjoy your life outside of school and work, even if it’s only for a year.

You could always recognize the friends who were interning at Amazon because they looked like they’d come off a week of no sleep. Many of your fellow MBA graduates were flocking there, as the company finally went public earlier this month. But something just felt - off to you. Like a canary in a coal mine.

Purpose, fulfillment, financial security, and a challenging work environment? Yes.

Burnout, no free time, and living and breathing for ‘the company’? No, thank you.

At the salary Jongdae had advertised you could easily continue to afford the apartment you shared with your two roommates and work on paying off the remaining student loans your scholarships hadn’t covered. And you could hide away a small amount of your check every month for the trip to Amsterdam you’ve been planning for years.

The gentle music in the wide, bright lobby of the mall makes you sigh in relief. This job is a win-win and you’re more determined than ever to get it.

You finally see the shop. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d have missed it between the black and neon purple exterior of KMS Music and the narrow security office tucked behind the lively pizza restaurant. There’s a line winding its way in front of the music store and you assume it’s for an album release. Until you realize that the line is leading straight where you’re going and stop in your tracks.

Chen's Electronics. The mall is full of colors and bright shop fronts. But this is almost bleak in comparison, as though it's resisted the outright displays of joy and liveliness that seem to be at the heart of the mall. The sign is red neon against a black and steel facade. A simple poster hangs in one of the two wide windows that frame the door.

We do: - Hard Drive Repair - Internet Connectivity Issues - Computer virus protection - Turntables, record players, and other portable home audio systems - Radios - POS/credit card system repair (For stores in the Exodus Mall only)

We do not: - Sell computers or computer parts. Don't ask.

You raise a brow at the last note. The harsh exterior of the store and the brusque tone definitely match with what you've heard of Chen's Electronics - that the man who runs it is a computer genius, but that his bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Perhaps that's why the job posting emphasized 'superior customer service skills.'

The line you join grows, others coming in behind you, and you wonder if Jongdae told everyone the same 10am time frame or if he staggered interviews throughout the day. As you wait the line slowly dwindles. A woman leaves crying a few minutes later, and you watch her go with surprise and attempt to peek into the store. You’re still too far back to see in, so you’re left to wait and wonder.

Finally you’re next, waiting just outside the store. A printed piece of paper is taped to the door. CLOSED FOR INTERVIEWS it says in big, bolded letters.

The tall man who was ahead of you in line isn’t visible at either of the two work stations set up inside the shop. There must be a back room of some kind. You take the moment to check out the space. The store is organized chaos. Rows of shelves line each of the two walls, full of equipment - computers in various states of disassembly, old transistor radios, a VHS player, a few turntables, and endless coiled stacks of cords interspersed.

The walls above them and the two walls behind the work stations, on either side of the hallway leading to the back, are blank. No advertisements or personalized touches to make the business seem welcoming. Just bland, empty beige walls. One desk has only a computer, keyboard, and mouse. The other is full of parts and tools that extend over the desk to not one, but two shelving units behind it. Like Jongdae was in the middle of a project and the interviews are a rude interruption.

A muffled angry shout comes from the back, behind the gray curtain hung up over the entrance to the rear of the store. The tall man moves it aside with a sneer as he charges across the floor. With a voice practically a growl he shoves open the door and you jolt back to avoid being hit.

He looks you up and down and shakes his head. ‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’

After a last straightening of your jacket you swallow and push through the door. It's quiet inside, almost reverent, as the door closes behind you. The fluorescent lighting overhead isn't the most welcoming and the tan carpet is terribly dated. No one comes to meet you. The man on the other side must be waiting, like a dragon in his lair.

Your hand closes over the strap of your purse and you hesitate at the curtain, not wanting to move forward without being invited. 'Hello?'

Footsteps come down the short hallway and a hand appears, moving the curtain out of the way to reveal a man. Your jaw almost drops. Oh, shit. It's not at all who you were expecting the famed Jongdae to be - a studious man with glasses and a bad tie.

No, this man is handsome in an aggressive way. His black hair is styled back in a neat wave. His high cheekbones and strong brows hold no humor or friendliness. Only the catlike upturn of his lips stands in rebellious contrast to his unwelcoming face.

This isn't the first time you've seen this face either, you realize, and it's like being run over by a train. He seems to connect the dots at the same moment and his eyes widen, eyebrows raising. It’s the DJ from the bar. The drink. The - oh, god.

He presses his mouth together, smothering his surprise and sitting down harshly in the chair at the crowded desk in the main room. 'What are you doing here?' He keeps his voice tightly contained, not minding in the least that the other potential job candidates are surely watching you both right now.

You give yourself a small shake and remember you're not here to hit on him. You're here for a job. 'I have an interview.'

Best case is ignoring the whole thing. It didn’t happen. Not here in the light of day. His poker face might be good, but yours is better. You keep your breathing even and hope that the racing of your heart isn’t making your cheeks red.

He tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips together in amusement. ‘Alright then.’ Turning to the side he stands and holds the curtain open, allowing you to pass by him into the small office behind.

Holding his focus, you pull out the chair in front of the desk and sit down. You place the resume and references on the table between you and fold your hands on your lap, waiting.

Jongdae takes his place opposite you as he slides the papers across the desk. His eyes dart faster than you can imagine anyone reading. He doesn’t seem flustered, but the tips of his ears are just slightly pink, his nose flaring a bit too much, and you realize he’s just as caught off guard as you are.

Finally, he finishes. 'I… don't think this is going to work.' He looks up, his hand resting on your paperwork on the desk. His face gives away nothing, but his eyes are wild and full of emotion you can’t decipher.

'Why is that?' You keep your voice steady, determined. He’s not going to dismiss you so quickly. Realizing the DJ and the tech wunderkind are one in the same has only heightened your desire to show him you’re the best person for the job.

Jongdae stares at you. This time, there's heat in his expression. You feel his eyes move over you, not taking in the professional attire, but clearly remembering the dress you wore from the club instead. 'I think you know why,' he says under his breath.

Clearing your throat you lean forward, drawn to him by some force you can't define. Like something is shoving you towards this job. 'I don't know what you mean. The posting was for an office manager and bookkeeper. I'm qualified in both and I have plenty of experience. Are you really going to decide I’m not a good fit without even asking me a single question?'

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for an instant. 'Why do you want this position? You know nothing about me.'

He states it like a fact, not an opening for discussion, but you jump on it anyway. 'I know plenty.'

Satisfaction blooms in your chest when he narrows his eyes, raising a brow. 'I do my research, Mr. Kim. I’m top of my class at UW and I didn’t get there by accident. With such a small team I could get a far broader experience than I could being just another cog in the machine at Microsoft. I might not know you personally, but your reputation precedes you. I plan to excel in the tech industry. And to do that, I need to work with the best. Simple as that.'

'And I'm the best?' He leans back in his chair. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he drags a finger across his lips in appraisal.

His quick responses remind you of the competitive tennis you played growing up. The way it felt to thrive when paired with an equal opponent, someone who could match your speed and precision. Someone who gave as good as they got. How it made you better, sharpened your skills and reflexes up against someone who you couldn’t easily defeat.

'Are you trying to tell me you're not?' You cross your arms and look around, feigning surprise and curiosity. 'If you tell me who is, I'll happily go apply to be their office manager.'

He almost laughs in amusement. You can feel it. But he covers it as a cough instead and tilts his head to the side, sizing you up. 'And you know what this job entails?'

You repeat it easily from memory. 'Being the face of the business. Greeting walk-in customers. Helping them figure out if what they need is something we do. Conferring with you about pricing. Scheduling service appointments over the phone. Processing payments. Ordering supplies. Occasional advertising assistance. Other assorted duties as needed.'

'That about sums it up.'

In the charged silence you hear the muffled noises of the mall - children squealing with delight, orders being called out at the pizza restaurant next door, people talking - but it's all separated. You wonder if the distance is intentional. Many stores have roll up gates or at least have their doors propped open to draw in customers. But not Jongdae. It’s almost as though he’s actively trying to keep visitors out.

You favor boldness and decide to push him, what have you got to lose? 'So, when do I start?' Leaning forward, you give him a relaxed smile. ‘Unless you’d like to terrorize a few more applicants before you choose me? I’m happy to wait, Mr. Kim. But you can’t scare me away. And you don’t intimidate me.’

With equal decisiveness he cracks a lopsided grin and shakes his head, with both amusement and resignation. 'How's now for you?'

You give a passing thought to the other jobs, the ones you’d already interviewed for and the ones on your schedule over the coming days. They all go up in a whiff of smoke as you extend your hand across the table to shake Jongdae’s hand.

‘Now is perfect.’ His palm is warm against yours and you do your best not to react to the contact, but you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you.

Jongdae withdraws his hand quickly, and you note with pleasure that he seems a bit shaken as he stands. ‘I’ll be right back. You can leave your things here.’ He motions to the coat hooks on the wall by the door and the tall, thin bookshelf with a few cubby slots.

Aside from a black scarf and a few extra office supplies on two of the shelves the rest of the space is empty. You wonder what he isn't saying. 'What made you want help, all of a sudden?’ He pauses and turns back to you. ‘From what I can tell you've been in business for a few years. Why now?'

He sighs. 'I'm too busy to keep doing this by myself.'

'Ah. And you hate that, don't you?'

The ghost of a smile graces his lips. 'Yes.'

Jongdae disappears through the curtain. You follow him after putting your coat on a hook and your purse in one of the spotless cubbies. The rest of the space contains a few filing cabinets, stacks of boxes, and a small safe resting on a narrow table.

When you appear back into the hallway you see a door to the left that must lead out the back. And on the opposite side is an archway with a kitchen sink, a microwave, a small fridge, and a few cupboards inside, along with a small circular table. The table has only one chair. You smile to yourself. Clearly he's accustomed to doing everything by himself.

When you emerge the other applicants are dispersing as he peels the taped sign off the door, balling it up in his hands.

Jongdae gets you set up on the computer at the other desk. It’s a relatively simple customer management software and payment system, both of which you pick up in no time. He runs you through the pricing list, pulling a laminated form from the top drawer. His filing system for customer accounts is simple and alphabetized.

Neither of you speak about that night again, but oh, do you feel it - the electricity between you when he stands too close or you meet his eyes.

Until lunch he alternates between training you and assisting customers who come in every so often. It's all straightforward, nothing you haven't managed before, and by the afternoon you're already scheduling appointments in the large old-school appointment book he keeps open to the current week.

Despite the passion and intensity in the music he plays, he keeps an even keel throughout his day job. It's almost as if you went to sleep last night and somehow woke up as someone who's worked here for years. Before closing at 5:30 he remembers other things and hands you a packet on the way out. Tax forms, an employment agreement listing the salary and benefits, and a non-disclosure form. Most of it is standard, but you wonder what kind of secrets he needs to protect at an electronics store.

You gather your things and wait outside while he closes down the shop, turning off the lights as he goes. It’s still quite sunny outside and with a shock you realize that there’s nothing waiting for you, now that the work day is done. No papers to write or projects to finish or internship to head to. The idea makes you feel unexpectedly buoyant, and when Jongdae steps out to lock the doors you give him an easy smile.

He returns it, giving you a small one of his own in response. ‘So, I normally take Tuesdays off and keep the shop closed. Wednesdays are normally pretty slow. How does Thursday through Monday sound to you? I know today is Wednesday, so if you wanted to take tomorrow off instead that’s fine with me.’

‘I’m happy to come in tomorrow.’ You want to wince at the eagerness in your voice, but instead you stand firm, holding your purse in front of you with both hands.

Jongdae slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods, looking at you for a long moment before speaking. ‘Sounds great, I’ll see you then.’

You nod at him too, turning back towards the department store to head out to your car. After a beat you look behind you and see he’s still watching. His gaze is unfocused on the floor before he shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself. He heads the opposite direction, towards the movie theater. In a few seconds he’s disappeared behind the pizza place, out of sight.

Jongdae takes the longer route home today. His apartment overlooking Lake Union is the one he grew up in, his grandfather’s place. When he passed away a year ago he left it to Jongdae and it never occurred to him to move. He walks along the water, breathing in the early summer air, wanting to laugh at himself. How long has it been since he let himself be impulsive? To act on instinct. To want something.

He’d settled into a routine these past few years, since everything changed after graduation. Working at the store. Reading. Playing Go and chess with his grandfather and the other older men that lived in the building. They’d go fishing out on the peninsula or to the local symphonies that his grandfather loved. Routine had saved him when his world fell apart once, but now, with his grandfather’s absence, he’s not sure how to pick up the pieces anymore.

The seagulls on the pier are loud today, hungrily gobbling up the bread and Ivar’s french fries tossed to them by the kids gathered around. They giggle and laugh, running to their parents for more offerings. Jongdae frowns for a moment, the sadness that he doesn’t often acknowledge creeping into his heart.

His parents were gone before he really even had a chance to know them. His father to lung cancer, from the awful smoking habit he picked up in the Navy. His mother moved back to Korea to be with her family, unable to cope being in the city without her husband. Jongdae didn’t blame her, but the distance grew and they drifted apart as he became an adult himself.

Jongdae’s father’s father settled here after World War Two, along with a few of his friends. From what he remembers there wasn’t a discussion about it after the funeral - if he’d stay or go back to Korea with his mother. One day when he was young he knew his father had passed. His mother left. And with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders and little Jongdae in his arms his grandfather had moved him into the apartment with the pretty view of the water. 

And that’s the way it was, ever since.

In school his friends might have joked that Jongdae was an old man himself. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on Sundays, getting his hair cut at the same hole-in-the-wall barber shop in Chinatown as his grandfather, and hanging out with more octogenarians than people his own age. But he loved his grandfather and the two of them were so close that he never stopped to question whether he should change to fit in with the rest of his classmates.

The only aberration came when he started DJ-ing at eighteen. The crowd he fell in with and the partying he did was short lived; they crashed and burned, went up in flames. Everything else faded as quickly as it had come, but the club scene was his escape and it stayed with him.

These days it feels like the only time he recognizes himself, now that his grandfather is gone, too. Until you walked into his store today, that is. You looked him dead in the eyes, unafraid. Just like the night all those weeks ago in the club when you came up to him, flirted with him and challenged him.

He doesn’t know how to move on with his life.

He doesn’t know what’s next.

But wanting you, inviting you into his life, is going to change everything. He knows it in his bones and for once change excites him, instead of frightens him.

June 18th, 1997

For an achingly slow two hours on Thursday the only sounds in the shop are your typing and Jongdae’s tools hitting the metallic insides of the radio he’s fixing. You should be processing yesterday's supply orders. Or cleaning up the books to get everything ready for the days' billing before you make a run to the bank.

But instead you watch in your periphery the way the muscle in Jongdae’s jaw moves when he's focusing. How his brows pull together and his lower lip sticks out slightly, making him look as though he's perpetually pouting. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in school. If he was always so... uptight. Or if he was freer, looser. Not that you’re the picture of ease yourself, but he seems to almost vibrate with tension.

You watch as he turns back to the computer, his fingers fly across the keyboard and you admire the absolute focus he shows toward the screen in front of him. The past few days he’s handled repairs and projects for businessmen and women, families, and two gentlemen in suits that screamed ‘government’ to you. He could be repairing a nuclear warhead in front of you and you imagine his expression would remain the same.

His standard white button-up shirt bunches around his biceps while he works. A mischievous part of you wonders what it would take to make his robotic exterior crack again. What it would take for him to show joy or anger or arousal. Emotion from him is a precious, rare thing and you want to grab them when they do show, holding them tightly as proof they exist.

You jolt, realizing the unintended destination your thoughts have arrived at. Arousal. Where did that come from? With a cough and a shake of your head you refocus on the financial statements in front of you.

If you hadn't seen him that night at the club you'd have wondered if he ever enjoyed himself. He wasn't smiling that night, but the music and the dancing and the palpable energy seemed to soften the hard lines of his face. You want to see more of that Jongdae, the one that feels so much closer to who he really is, underneath it all.

However he started in this business, in the tech scene, he works away at it as though it's his sole purpose in life. He's clearly talented enough to fix anything, code anything. You’d asked him last week how he knows what to do, as you looked into a complicated mess of wires sticking out of a broken CPU as though it were gibberish.

All he’d said, in a gruff voice, was that his grandfather liked to tinker and take things apart before putting them back together, to see how they worked, and that he’d picked up the habit.

'Why do you work by yourself?' The sound of your voice is much louder than intended, breaking the hush in the store. You want to swallow the words, unsure why you didn't stop them from escaping. Instead you bite the skin on the inside of your cheek and watch as he lifts his head to look at you.

Jongdae raises a brow. 'As opposed to?'

You stop typing and lean back in your chair. 'You could have worked for anyone, I bet. After you graduated college. I’ve heard a few of the rumors about you. It sounds like you could have done anything you wanted. What made you want to start your own business?'

He mirrors your pose. 'What makes you think I went to college?'

You blink. For so long your parents' idea of a prosperous life - good grades, extracurriculars, graduate from a top college, get a lucrative, secure job - had been so ingrained that it surprises you to imagine that someone like him didn't go to school. 'You didn't?'

He smiles, the dimple appearing briefly in his cheek. 'Alright, fine. Yes, I did. I went to M.I.T. and I, uhm, graduated at seventeen.'

'Seventeen?' The competitive drive that buried itself in your bones early on wants to prove itself to him, awed by the size of his intellect.

'With my PhD.' He winces. Just for a moment, but you catch it.

'Oh,' you say with a stunned laugh.

He goes back to work with a quick shake of his head and a sigh. 'Yeah, that right there is why I don't tell people.'

You’re surprised by his assumption that you’d view it as a bad or repulsive fact. 'It's amazing. You should be proud of it. Why would you want to keep that a secret?'

His lip pouts again and irrationally you think about what it would be like to kiss him. 'Because now you'll look at me differently. Like I'm some kind of freak of nature.'

'I don't think it makes you a freak.' Your answer is immediate and emphatic.

'Oh really?' He gives you a side-glance, keeping his tone neutral.

'No, it makes you a genius. And intelligence is never a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.' It does nothing to help the attraction you feel for him. Rather than dousing the flames, it pours gasoline on them.

'Tell that to -' he stops himself, pressing his lips together. The bitterness in his voice makes you jerk back in your seat. ‘Nevermind. It was a long time ago. Forget I said anything.’

But you can fill in the gaps, no stranger to the judgement of others. 'Clearly you need better friends.'

He blinks, vulnerability filling his eyes. 'Like you?' His expression softens and he gives you a half-smile.

You blush, realizing what it must look like that you’re so passionate about defending him. 'Sorry, I didn't - all I mean is that it’s attractive.’ You curse yourself and cough delicately, trying to appear impartial. ‘An attractive quality. I just got my master’s and I thought I was advanced for my age. So I just meant to say… I get it. And you’re not a freak.’

The moment stretches out between you, the air in the space seeming to pause. The muted, reverent silence fills the distance once more. But this time it’s charged, tense. Waiting. He breathes in deeply, the shirt he wears stretching across his chest and yet again you long to touch him. For a beat his gaze drops to your lips and he swallows, opening his mouth to speak.

But he’s interrupted by the door opening. The ding of the motion sensor makes you both jolt, turning to see who it is. An older woman comes in carrying a heavy looking bag. She coughs and leans against the door to rest.

Jongdae bolts up from his desk, clearing his throat. 'Here, let me help with that.'

He bows to her with a warm smile, holding his hands out to take the bag. She nods and Jongdae slings the bag over his shoulder, wincing when it collides with his back. With a gentle arm around her back he helps her into the chair opposite his desk.

'Thank you, young man,' the woman says with a smile.

'Not at all,' Jongdae says, resuming his post on the stool. 'How can I help you today?'

You're certain your mouth has fallen open. To difficult customers he's brief, almost condescending, and for the nice ones he’s reserved and polite, but nothing like this. For over an hour he patiently connects the woman's computer to his power strip and walks her through how to use it. 

Again and again he shows her the links and how to work the web browser. Installs a complimentary virus protection program. Makes sure she can find the Solitaire application she loves. And only charges her $20.

But after she leaves the next customer is a businessman dressed in what looks to be a very expensive suit. Jongdae spends the laughably short visit practically sneering at the man. And he charges him at least twice what it says on the pricing list he gave you.

As soon as the door closes you release the laugh you’ve been holding in. 'You know, for someone who runs a business, you seem hell bent on driving some of your customers away.'

He shakes his head, hair falling in his eyes. 'He was a moron. You don't buy the Rolls Royce of computers if you don't know how to drive it.'

'So the only exception here is kind old ladies?'

Jongdae barks out a laugh, meeting your gaze and looking younger than you’ve ever seen him. 'Exactly.'

June 28th, 1997

Moments after you walk out the door for lunch during a bustling Saturday it pings again, announcing yet another customer. This one is probably his scheduled twelve o’clock appointment, Jongade thinks as he looks distractedly at his watch.

He turns to greet them and his entire body recoils. 'What do you want?' Jongdae practically hisses, but he keeps his tone even with all his might.

Since you’ve taken over scheduling Jongdae hardly looks at his calendar anymore. If he’d known Julian Danforth was seeking his help he would have told him to fuck off. Unfortunately Jongdae’s hesitation in talking about his past means you could have no possible idea how much the man standing before him used to matter.

Julian strolls in with a computer in his arms and a smugness on his mouth that Jongdae wants to punch off. His sunglasses are perched on the top of his head and his khaki shorts have neatly pressed lines, clearly not done by the man himself, who drips with privilege.

He'd thought these feelings were long buried, but they roar in Jongdae’s chest. The friendships and the future he almost had are now scattered behind him like a trail of carnage, all the fault of this man. The burn of sadness and embarrassment that fills Jongdae’s stomach was supposed to be gone, relinquished to ashes. But seeing one of his former best friends again Jongdae feels like he's ten years old, stuck in a class with far older students. Young, inexperienced, an outcast.

‘Good afternoon to you as well, old friend.’ Ignoring the daggers Jongdae is staring at him, Julian steps forward, setting the computer down on the desk. 'Like I told the woman on the phone I'm having a problem with some computer virus.'

He says it like it’s a slimy, living thing that had crawled into his machine. Displeasure colors his expression; annoyed at the mere thought that his money and status don’t render him immune from such commonplace problems. ‘You know I don’t trust anyone else with my system.’

After what you did I should smash your computer open. Jongdae doesn't speak as plugs the machine into the power strip he rigged to his desk, not willing to risk what he’ll say.

It's a far more expensive model of computer than most of his clients bring in. Those who purchase such a high end version fall into two camps - enthusiasts like himself who know what they're getting, or the rich and famous who buy them as status symbols and have no clue how to work them. Julian, unfortunately, falls into the latter category.

The computer starts up and Jongdae’s mind goes into work mode, tuning out Julian. The virus has rendered it unusable, only a blur of symbols and lines of code flit across the screen. None of the normal exit keys brings up the desktop. Jongdae purses his lips and slides in the floppy disk he keeps beside his own monitor, an anti-virus he designed.

He leans into muscle memory as he runs through the start up and sets the program to do its job. With any luck the idiot just found some simple malware from some incredibly obvious email spam or downloaded a bug on a porn site. In all social and business sense Julian is a shark; he'd never have fallen for such an obvious scam in real life. But when it came to computers and technology he was hopeless, and thus Jongdae had come into his life years ago.

'How long have you been set up here?' Julian asks with a dismissive glance at the machines and equipment stacked on the shelves.

'Why do you care?' The question comes out harsher than he intends, but the emotion isn't entirely unearned.

Once upon a time he and Julian met in Seattle, after Jongdae was fresh out of M.I.T. and Julian had flunked out of yet another University. They were determined to build a business together. If he had more energy Jongdae would wear this store and his reputation proudly, built from no family connections or money, just his own intelligence and drive. After how thoroughly Julian severed Jongdae’s life he should rub his success in Julian’s face with pride.

Instead he ignores him, determined to move on.

The program finishes its run in rapid time, as though it knows how quickly Jongdae wants this moment to end. The virus dissipates and the desktop loads like normal. He's tempted for a second to indulge his curiosity to see what Julian has been up to. Last he knew Julian had gone to work at his father’s investment bank, dreams of standing on his own cowed by the reality of the world outside of his comfortable bubble. Without Jongdae there’s no way the business and the program held up to scrutiny. 

For a second Jongdae stares at the screen, remembering how good it had felt to have found his people. Tech nerds, hungry to build something that would change the world. Julian, who wanted to cast off his father’s legacy and strike out on his own. Julian’s girlfriend Marissa and her soft heart, who wanted to help people. Their friend Albert, with the plan. 

Once he knew them so well he hardly knew where he ended and they began. But now, all these years later, they’re strangers.

Jongdae looks up and watches Julian as he absently admires the collection of turntables on the wall behind the desk. He knows Julian well enough to know this might be an act of contrition, his way of bridging the gap he created to reach out the olive branch of friendship once more. But Jongdae’s curiosity already killed the cat once, spectacularly, and he has no desire to repeat the mistake.

He unplugs the machine and watches the screen go dark, shoving it with both hands across the polished wood surface towards Julian. 'There. It's fixed.'

For customers who are far more polite and far less acquainted with Jongdae he might have explained what caused the virus or recommended an anti-virus software or even shared best practices to avoid getting one in the future. But, for Julian, he'll do what he was hired for and nothing more.

Julian stands and clears his throat uncomfortably. 'How much do I owe you?' A hint of guilt as he pulls out his wallet.

The motion reminds Jongdae of vacations to Marissa's family home in the San Juans or partying with Julian, Albert, and the rest of them in Capitol Hill. When they turned on him it was like the sun went out. He managed to take his pride and his love of music and DJing and escape. Once Jongae rebuilt his life the doors to the past firmly closed.

Anger finally peeks through as he waves a dismissive arm at Julian. 'I don't want your money. Not spending a second longer in your company will be all the payment I need.' He stands as well. Their business today is done and he lets his memories of the past fall before him like ashes.

An awkward beat passes between them and finally Julian breaks eye contact. With a nod to the ground he pushes out the door and disappears, carrying his computer.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, folds his arms, annoyed at how his position and his continued presence here in Seattle occasionally brings him into contact with people like Julian. He should have moved, he thinks. Gone to Singapore or Berlin or London or New York. But for some reason, he stayed.

Through the front window he watches you laugh with your friends in the food court and smiles to himself, thinking of how you call him Scrooge. It should unnerve him, how quickly seeing you or speaking to you or simply thinking you makes his day better, more hopeful; chases away the shadows that linger in his mind when he's left alone for too long. No, left alone isn't the right word. When he isolates himself.

Jongdae doesn’t really know you, not yet. But already he wants to make all of your dreams come true, he wants to make them real. 

The thought is so sentimental and kind and soft that it brings him up short. He bites the inside of his lip and tries to fight the warm feeling in his chest as he watches you laugh. But as he resumes his work he acknowledges that maybe there was a reason he stayed in Seattle, after all.

The mall is packed during lunch; it’s one of the only days you and your roommates and Hitchcock all work together so you’ve christened it Saturday girl’s lunch time. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol of course crash in, as they always seem to. Loud and raucous and happy. Others from their wide circle of friends drop by to grab slices or to make plans for tonight.

Baekhyun sticks two straws in his nose and makes what are probably very scientifically inaccurate walrus noises. As you laugh so hard you almost snort you can’t help but feel like something is missing. Someone is missing. You look back to the shop, drawn to Jongdae as always.

He works away, resuming his repairs after chasing another customer away with his attitude. You sigh, watching the blonde preppy man carry away his enormous computer, muttering to himself. You rest your foot on the edge of your chair and drop your chin to your knee. From this angle, surrounded by the stark design of the store and the fluorescent lights from above, Jongdae looks like he’s trapped inside of a screen himself.

You bite your lip, debating. He’s made it clear that whatever happened between you at the club isn’t something he will discuss, or repeat. But friendship? Community? You work together five days a week and it wouldn’t kill him to get out of his enclosure once in a while. It’s done you good this month, to be out and about with people. Like you can finally breathe for the first time in a long time. And you decide that it’s high time Jongdae do the same.

Liz and Jane, your roommates, call you ‘determined.’ But they say it in a way that clearly means ‘like a homing missile,’ when you want something. Your nature has served you well; you can cut through the bullshit and figure people out almost instantly. It’s helped you both professionally and personally. Allowed you to know immediately which friendships would last, which ones were worth the effort.

Maybe it’s how Jongdae looks like an island, all alone in the shop. Maybe it’s the large Coke that infused you with far too much caffeine. Maybe it’s your insatiable curiosity. But you can’t keep watching him from afar, not when there’s something you can do about it.

‘I’ll be right back.’ Pulling on your denim jacket, you march over to the store. You lean inside the glass door, holding it open with your shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’

Jongdae looks up at you, confusion tugging his brows together, making him befuddled in the cutest way. You tell yourself to stop thinking of him like that, even if you want to.

He blinks and refocuses on you. ‘Back already?’

‘No, but we’ve got more than enough pizza. Why don’t you join us?’ You grin, making a show of looking around the empty office. ‘It’s finally slowed down, and you deserve a break.’

‘I’m on a deadline with this.’ He gestures to the modem that is scattered around him.

You fold your arms and lean against the door. ‘You can fix that in twenty minutes. I know you.’ He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. ‘And before you throw another excuse you should know I’m very persuasive when I want to be. I don’t think you have another option.’

Jongdae barks out a laugh, dropping the tools in his hand to the desk with a thud. ‘Determined to drag me from my lair, huh?’ He holds your gaze, his expression filling with something akin to heat. Finally he gives you a rueful smile. ‘You’re not going to give up on this, are you?’

You meet his eyes and raise a brow, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Nope. Absolutely not.’

The certainty on his face turns into sadness, so fast you can’t be sure it was really there. Then he closes off and he’s quiet, more so than normal. ‘It doesn’t come easily to me.’

Wondering what could have changed so quickly you step forward, letting the door close behind you. ‘What, pizza?’

It shakes you how desperately you want to know. To peel back his skull and see inside his brain, just to understand what makes him tick. His history and where his future is headed. That small voice inside you whispers that once you figure it out, it still won’t make you care less about him.

‘Friends.’ He says it on a gasp. Looking at the floor fixedly, avoiding your eyes, he seems haunted.

The silence surrounds you both and he finally meets your focus again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The pieces start to come together. He’s intelligent, preternaturally so, and so advanced in school you can’t imagine he’s had much experience with people his own age. And now that he’s in his mid-twenties he’s built himself a fortress. Close enough to the rest of the world, but distinctly separate.

Irrationally you want to reach across the space and wrap his hands in yours. Tug him into your growing group of friends and fix the ache in your chest his expression gives you. Not sympathy and certainly not pity, but some sensation that’s like butterflies in your stomach. But- he’s your boss. You’re not his keeper and you don’t think whatever dangerous emotion lives in you is what would help him.

He’s not yours and you don’t have the right to push, much that you want to.

‘Ah,’ you say. ‘I see. Well, more often than not we have Saturday pizza out there. The offer always stands. I’ll leave you be if you want to be alone, but just -’ you swallow and give him a tentative smile. ‘Just know that we’d be happy to have you join us. I’d be. Uhm. Happy if you joined us.’ It comes out in a rush and you groan.

With a shake of your head, an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, you wave at him and push back out the door into the noise of the mall.

It’s a shame you don’t turn back. Or no, he thinks, it’s better this way. Jongdae feels far too much for you to keep it contained behind his normally stony expression.

You seem like the kind of person who would take that moment of openness and pull on it, until he unravels in front of you. Fear tells him you would take everything and when you're gone he'd be even more alone than before, now that he knows what it's like with you here.

Looking out through the glass he watches you rejoin the lively group. Always he’s felt like a science experiment, or some kind of circus exhibit when he was growing up. If he didn’t have his grandfather’s steady support and gentle guidance he surely would have become even more isolated.

With a shake of his head, he attempts to refocus on the project at hand. For some reason it doesn't fill him up like he wants it to, his usual joy and satisfaction is missing when he picks up the screwdriver once more. This is where he thrives. Computers and the internet and coding.

To other people it's a labyrinth, impossible to figure out. A world and a language they can speak and learn with effort and intention and study. But to him it's always been as easy as breathing.

His grandfather took his skills from the military and parlayed them into a business as a prolific handyman. It was the world they shared. A place where Jongdae’s creativity and his intelligence could soar. Anything he wanted to build or make, he could. Coding a rudimentary game to pass the time after school, when he could hear the neighborhood kids playing soccer outside.

It took him many wonderful places that he wouldn't have been able to reach if he was, for lack of a better word, normal. As a child and even in school it was so easy to hide behind his grades and his projects and the pride and hope of the adults around him. But now, at twenty five, there’s nothing to keep him hidden anymore.

When lunch is over you return and join him with a nod. He hopes you don't regret asking. He nearly hopes you'll try again. Maybe next Saturday.

For how confident he feels in some spaces - DJing at Shari's, here in his ‘lair’ - at the thought of joining a group of friends he feels again like a nervous thirteen year old sitting in his first college course. Like everyone around him knew how to do things he couldn’t comprehend.

He keeps his thoughts and his feelings to himself; he’s already shared more than he planned. But you draw him back into conversation easily enough, asking about the afternoons orders to be picked up. You don't shy away from him or give him an angry offended air. Inexplicably you still look at him warmly, openly, and he wants more than he's dared to let himself want in a very, very long time.

July 11th, 1997

He doesn't normally leave the office at lunch, preferring to eat his meals in his back office alone, but today Jongdae braves the food court.

It’s a Friday not a Saturday, but it’s a start. He makes brief, yet friendly, conversation with Chanyeol at the pizza place. The taller man smiles at Jongdae, easily, as though he doesn’t second guess the action. He asks if Jongdae had caught the Mariner's game over the weekend and they talk about how Griffey might finally lead Seattle to a World Series this year.

For once he doesn't feel like going back to the office and burying his head in his work. Jongdae awkwardly pulls out a chair in the cluster of tables between the bookstore and the record store. As he takes a bite of his pizza he hears a familiar laugh. Turning around he sees you through the glass of the bookstore.

You speak to the woman who owns Greyhame Books, standing beside someone he thinks is possibly called Jane. It all seems so… easy for you. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean against the counter, discussing the stack of books in front of you with your friends.

Jongdae gives a rare laugh to no one but himself.

When he imagined hiring an accountant and administrator for his flourishing business he thought he'd get someone older. A person with experience and a similar level of wanting to be left alone. They could ignore him and he could ignore them, delegating filing and payments and customer questions and not have to think about them again.

An employee was supposed to reclaim the silence and peace that his work used to bring. Technology is so much simpler and predictable than humans and he’d really prefer to cut other people out of the equation entirely.

But you are the opposite of simple, and you absolutely aren’t someone he can ignore. From the moment he recognized you he knew he had to hire you. With your intensity and your impressive resume and the way your mouth pulls to the side when you’re trying not to smirk.

He doesn't regret it. But he feels raw in a way he hasn't allowed himself to in years. Jongdae doesn't let people get close. Not anymore.

'Hey, Jongdae!'

With a pizza slice halfway to his mouth Jongdae spots Junmyeon approaching, waving, a large Starbucks drink in hand.  He wants to turn away and hide in his pizza. He isn't good at this - making friends. For months Junmyeon has asked him to join in their monthly networking events here at the mall, or asked him to get a drink at Flanagan’s after work to chat. Jongdae’s all out of excuses.

He imagines his life as a circuit board. There’s his life now - pieces and wires scattered around him - and there’s the life he could have. If he’s brave and if he tries. He imagines the pieces fitting together and what they might build. He wonders if you might fit in, if you’d want him or let him.

His knee is jiggling and he’s nervous, but he takes a deep breath and waves back. ‘Hey Jun! Want to join me for a bit?’ Jun’s expression is surprised - the man doesn’t know how to keep back any of his emotions. ‘If you have time, I mean. No pressure.’ He stutters, pulse racing and cheeks reddening.

Jun grins and sits down opposite him. ‘Absolutely. About time! I thought you’d turn me down forever,’ he laughs. ‘Thanks again for helping me with that broken radio last month. You’re a pro. So, how’s business?’ He sips his coffee and waits patiently.

They can talk about business, something so easy? Jongdae wants to laugh with relief. Maybe he can do this after all.

Junmyeon is amused.

After ten minutes of talking shop with Jongdae he watches as you and Jane leave the bookstore next to their lunch spot. He’s owned a business two doors down from Jongdae for years, but he’s never seen him smile before. When you pass by it’s like someone flipped on a light switch. Jongdae has always been somewhat quiet, somewhat serious, except when he DJs. Now he sits straighter, his face softens, and his eyes fixate on yours like a magnet.

The two of you claim the other seats at the table, showing off the books you purchased. In between sips of his coffee Junmyeon balances his own flirtation with Jane and observing - okay, spying - on you and Jongdae.

He’s warmed by not just the caffeinated beverage. There’s a soft energy here- It’s a warm summer day and he’s discussing books, one of his all-time favorite topics. His mind whispers the words ‘double date’ and he smiles to himself for a moment before blinking.

“Are you alright?” Jane asks, gently resting her hand on Junmyeon’s wrist on the table.

He blushes and gives her a reassuring nod and asks if she’s read the Octavia Butler book on top of her stack yet. It’s an attempt at distraction and he knows it. But thankfully Jane’s eyes crinkle in the corners when she talks about the author, not pausing or seeming to notice the way he was fantasizing for a beat.

Across from him you and Jongdae are arguing about the merits of Isaac Asmiov. Jongdae is more articulate, more animated, more alive than he’s ever seen him. Gesturing emphatically and saying something about how robots are friends, not foes as you interrupt him by reminding him about Terminator. Neither of you seem to acknowledge the attraction between you. It’s been months since you started working at Chen’s, if Junmyeon remembers correctly.

In his periphery he sees Temptation, the chocolate store, and thinks of how Yixing and his girlfriend met on the job. One of his favorite poems mentions how love mirrors the lover; that everyone falls in love in a way akin to their personality. Yixing, passionate and insatiable and spontaneous, fell for Lavender in minutes and days. He saw what he wanted and after a slight pause to make sure it’s what Lav really wanted, he made the move.

Jongdae is nothing if not the complete opposite. Calculating and reserved and inscrutable.

His potential new friend is falling, if the lingering looks he gives you and the way he’s almost touched your shoulder not once but twice are any indication. But it’s a mystery to Junmyeon if, or when, Jongdae will ever make a move. You aren’t the same kind of romantic as Yixing’s girlfriend, someone playful and open with your emotions. You’re driven and witty and warm in your own way. Clearly you care for Jongdae, but in a quieter sense.

Junmyeon imagines this will be a marathon of love, not a sprint.

Eventually lunch hours end for all of you. There’s clients to see and paperwork to do and as he waves to you and Jane he wonders what will become of you and Jongdae. If you’ll stay as co-workers, always flirting and secretly wondering what might be. Or if either of you will push the other into action. The chess board is laid out, pieces waiting to be moved. It might just be his imagination, but Junmyeon hopes that one of you gets the game going.

He does also, perhaps, focus on you and Jongdae as a way to ignore how his own heart beats a bit faster around Jane. How he can’t stop staring at her dimple when she smiles or the head tilt she gives him when she’s really listening. Like he’s the only person in the world. No, he absolutely doesn’t think about Jane’s feet i n his lap as they both read on the couch in his living room. He doesn’t wonder what it would be like to kiss her or hold her hand. Absolutely not.

Instead he invites Jongdae to the monthly Settlers of Catan night he has with Minseok and some other folks from the mall. Much safer territory than wondering about his own love story and if still waters truly do run deep where he and Jane are concerned.

August 11th, 1997

On a surprisingly rainy yet unsurprisingly dead Monday morning Jongdae forces you away from your insistent attempts to organize his paperwork to the market a few streets over. The quiet bakery on the hill above Pike Place has a view of the misty Sound beyond. He sits close beside you, carefully keeping his knees away, lest he bump yours and you do the same, perhaps letting them linger a moment each time they collide.

It’s nice here, you notice suddenly, as you take the first sip of your coffee. The smell of dark roast and fresh almond scones. The breeze coming in through the open door. The soothing, distant sound of jazz from the overhead speaker. The pleasant warm lighting, far different than the aggressively bland fluorescent kind he chose for Chen's. Everything puts you at ease, wraps around you the way you wish Jongdae’s arms would.  

'This place reminds me of Amsterdam.' You smile, looking down into your cappuccino to avoid Jongdae’s eyes.

‘Have you ever been?’ he asks, voice softer than it normally is.

With a shake of your head you trace the edge of the teal and white ceramic cup in front of you. ‘No, but I’ve seen pictures. I used to love photo books growing up. Atlases and travel guides. It’s always been my favorite section of the library.’

He hums for a moment, considering. 'If you could go anywhere in the world, is that where you'd choose?'

Tucking your hair behind your ears you bite your lip to avoid grinning at him. He’s making you remember long-forgotten parts of yourself. Before school and work became the end point, the be-all end-all that your life was funnelled towards. Back when you imagined exploring every country on the planet. Taking photos and making memories. A long time ago, in the days before you realized how expensive it is to actually be a wanderlust-filled adventurer.

Finally you look at him. Something in his irises makes you swallow; an endless, nameless emotion that lives in him you can never seem to place. Elusive and frustrating and tempting all at once.

‘Yes,’ you admit. Voice dry and heart racing you look back to your coffee in avoidance. ‘It’s my dream to travel there. I’m a bit obsessed with it, really.’

'You? Obsessed?' Jongdae smirks, a boyish grin you want to cover with your own mouth.

You roll your eyes, tracing the handle of your mug. 'Hush. It's such a beautiful city with all the canals and the architecture and history, and the food is to die for. Every quaint European city fantasy in one. What about you, have you done much traveling?'

He shakes his head. ‘Not personally. But - my grandfather went everywhere in Europe, after the war.’ His admission is so quiet you almost miss it. But it’s as if your soul is waiting for every crack in the door to Jongdae you can find, and you don’t pass up the opportunity. ‘What was he like?’

It happens sometimes, when you’re working together. The times there’s no customers around and the mall gets empty and you can’t help but be aware of him. Against your skin and with your hands, eyes feasting on him when the rest of you is forbidden from doing so. In the moments when he isn’t putting on airs of being the tech mogul or the reclusive jerk or the awkward, secretly friendly nerd around Jun or Minseok.

Those times when Jongdae meets your eyes and you see the real him, beneath it all. Wanting and alone and scared. Your breath catches in your throat just as it does now and you long to ask him plainly if he feels the way you do. Being honest with your words and not just your jokes or looks out the corner of your eyes when you catch him watching you too.

But those feel too fragile, too dangerous to utter. So instead you ask him about his family, someone close enough to Jo ngdae’s heart to glimpse the core of him; like a sun during an eclipse you can only look for a moment, lest you get burned.

'My grandfather?’ Brows furrow, the corners of his cat-like lips tilting down for a moment. You nod gently, cupping your drink for something to occupy your hands.

Jongdae looks out at the water for a moment, his mouth tugging to the side as he ponders. ‘You know when you finally solve a puzzle you’ve been working on for ages? Hours of struggling to find the right combination and finally it’s all laid out, perfectly in alignment.’

You nod, trying not to smile and ruin the moment, but softened by him nonetheless. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

When his gaze lands on your hands he pauses, like he’s wondering if the two of you might fit in a similar way. But it’s gone before you can grasp onto the moment. Sadness colors his features then. Not the aching kind that gnaws away like a feral monster, leaving nothing in its wake, but the beautiful, bittersweet sadness of a love greater than grief.

His voice is thick when he next speaks. ‘My grandfather was that person for me. We just - fit. He understood me better than my parents did. More than any of my classmates or the few people I’ve ever gone out with. We didn’t even need to speak.’ Jongdae pauses and taps his fingers on the counter.

You give in and reach for his hand, not to hold it - not yet. But to cover it with your own for a moment of understanding, of comfort.

He smiles at you, the crease between his brows disappearing for a moment. ‘He was fifty one years older than me and he was my best friend.’

‘I’ll bet you miss him quite a lot?’ You realize how incredibly inadequate the sentiment is and shake your head, moving to withdraw your hand. ‘Sorry - that’s - of course you miss him.’

But Jongdae doesn’t let you retreat. With his free hand he holds yours in place. Warmth floods your body from the connection point and you’re unable to take your eyes off him. ‘It’s alright, I know what you mean.’ He traces your thumb with a barely there motion, seemingly without intending to. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ You ask, a bit breathless and unable to mind.

‘For always asking. For always listening.’ He says it simply, as though it’s a novel concept. Perhaps, given what you know of his life, who he is, not many people dare to ask. Or bother to listen.

Soon paperwork and customers and regular life draw you back to Chen’s Electronics. He doesn’t mention the way you reached for him and you don’t either. But when you go to leave that afternoon Jongdae holds out your jean jacket for you to slip on. And when you thank him he gives you the soft, secret grin you’ve learned he saves only for you.

On the way home you think that Amsterdam might be the most beautiful city you can imagine, but that it pales in comparison to a hole-in-the-wall cafe in Seattle, as long as Jongdae is seated beside you.

September 9th, 1997

The summer turns into fall and one Monday evening, seemingly without his noticing, Jongdae realizes that his appointment book is full to bursting.

On Tuesday night he's playing Settlers of Catan with Minseok, Bookworm, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon. They meet up in the food court after the mall closes at nine, second Tuesday of every month.

Wednesday he has lunch with Jun and some other business owners in the mall for their monthly networking/commiserating 'sesh' as Yixing calls it. That afternoon he's promised to help Minseok install the new upgrades to his store's database software that 'make him want to rip out his hair' in exchange for a few coveted LPs Jongdae's had his eyes on for a 70’s/grunge remix set at Shari's.

Thursday night there’s a L.A. Confidential screening at the theater that Baekhyun talked him into, after their argument about whether or not Russel Crowe could actually act or if he was just handsome.

Saturdays are pizza and raucous laughter to break up the busy weekends full of work and clients and deadlines, followed by long nights of DJ-ing and circling you as if you are a sun, drawing him in with the pull of your gravity. He’s merely a comet attracted by the force you give off and he’s not even upset at the realization.

Sehun, Jongin, and Yixing practically bribed him into joining their 'Sunday morning brunch and biceps' workout group, saying that they need a fourth and everyone else is normally sleeping off their hangovers or works the opening shift.

It’s other people’s names all over his schedule, but what he feels is you. Everywhere, all over him. He knows it’s you. Not intentionally, perhaps. But you opened a door for him with your ease and generosity. One Saturday pizza lunch and somehow he’s gotten to know more people in two months at the mall than he had in the years before combined.

You’d wave him off if he mentioned it or thanked you. With that adorable tilt of your head you would smirk and tell him that all he has to do is give people a chance. That they don’t bite.

Irrationally he wants to do things for you - not just as a friend but in the romantic sense - like buy you flowers or have you by his side at Thursday movie screenings or take you to Amsterdam, just to watch you bloom among the flowers. But that would be… crazy, right? He sits in his favorite armchair unable to focus on the book in front of him and runs agitated hands through his hair.

He’s not your boyfriend or your partner. He’s your boss or your co-worker and possibly your friend. Why does he think of holding your hand and walking along the canals of some foreign city every time you look in his direction?

Why does the once-comforting quiet of his apartment feel more and more empty when you’re not laying on the couch across from him, reading and teasing him? Why does he wake up and wish that someone besides himself filled his bed? Someone with your expressions and your joy and your stubborn insistence.

He briefly makes a mental note to ask Yixing how he ended up dating Lavender before suddenly tossing the book to the floor, standing with a groan.

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ he yells aloud to the empty apartment. Jongdae paces circles in the carpet of his living room and wonders if part of being in love is going slightly insane, if everyone who manages to do so finds the madness enjoyable or if love is simply folie à deux?

He looks at his calendar, spread open on his grandfather’s old, wooden desk and tries to comprehend how his life could be so different one year to the next. Like he’s grasping at straws or wisps of air. Aside from work and his grandfather and music, what did he have before? The occasional alumni event or guest lecture at his alma maters?

For a minute his chest feels too full to breathe, unable to let in anything more. Panic tugs at him for a second. It’s too much, all at once - too many people and too many events. Too many opportunities to mess up and these people? He can’t sever his life completely like he did from Julian and his friends. They're so connected to this space he's made his business in. What will happen when he inevitably falls out of favor with them?

He imagines himself shunned and the idea hurts worse than before. Back then he had chosen isolation; to have it thrust unwillingly upon him, unasked, is too much to comprehend.

Once he walked naively into friendship, believing it was easy and that it would last. That there was no rug that would be unceremoniously swept out from under him. But people change, faster than he can believe.

Jongdae sits on the floor, his pajama pants brushing his crossed legs, and forces himself to steady his breathing. These people are not his old friends at Microsoft, he reminds himself. Nor are they the kids in school who teased him, or his classmates in college who resented him or treated him like an annoyance.

Like he’s always practiced, he turns to facts to calm his mind. He’s safe - the apartment is his and he has plenty of money. Not just from his business but from his grandfather’s life insurance. If he wanted to leave - if he was forced to, he thinks he could do it. But something within him howls at the idea of leaving what he has now.

For the first time in ages he has ideas, plans, and dreams for what to do with his life. Now he has people he cares about, people who he trusts to be kind rather than fearing they’ll betray or leave him. You’re at the center of it, if you let him. Determination takes hold of him and doesn’t let go. After a few moments his panic subsides, washed away by the bright promise of a future he’s never dared to imagine before now. Before you.

September 13th, 1997

By the end of your second drink you contemplate being the one to risk it all and ask Jongdae out.

In the months you’ve worked together you stopped seeing him as a challenge and started viewing him instead as the push to your pull. The yang to your yin. The - you sip on your rum and coke and get lost in the tug of his brows and the set of his lips as he spins rather than finding another apt metaphor.

The first time you met him you knew there was something underneath his hard exterior, but you had no idea how correct you’d be proven. Somehow he walks the tightrope between being harsh and being softer than you thought possible. But rather than turn you off you find you’re drawn to his bewildering mix of wry humor, nerdy fixations, and raw emotion. It unlocks all the jagged parts of you that you try to keep so nicely pressed together.

For someone who has been deemed too much to handle finding a man who seems to do it with ease is staggering. He loves your bossy, charismatic nature and your ideas about new things to try at the store. He listens intently when you rattle off obscure facts about your favorite books and movies. He sees your dreams of traveling, of being part of community here, as a complement, not a detriment to your professional career.

A voice startles you. “So when are you going to jump his bones?” Baekhyun is the kind of puppy dog, glowing cheeks, wide-eyed endearing drunk you wish you could hate.

He waggles his brows at you and you snort, shoving him away with your shoulder. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”

You weave your way around the perimeter of the dance floor, trying and failing to not fixate on Jongdae with every step.

“Come on. Admit it. You’ve got a thing for the DJ.” His mouth tugs into a smug grin and you groan. “And word on the street is he wants you too.”

“He’s my boss.” The last of your drink burns your throat and you belly up to the bar to order another. “Get real.”

Always a hoe for gossip, Baekhyun leans one elbow against the bar and drops his chin into his hand to watch you. Rather than speak and risk your wrath again he merely looks between you and Jongdae, waiting.

You pride yourself on not giving into temptation for all of ten seconds and then blurt out - “What are you doing?”

Baekhyun presses his lips together to suppress a grin. He raises a finger and holds it up. “You’ll see.”

The bartender is tied up with a group at the far end so you sigh and turn, resting your back against the bar top. With folded arms you observe the club. “We’re about to be abducted by aliens? Jongin’s going to breakdance? Minseok and Bookworm are -”

He clicks his tongue. “So impatient. You two really are a match made in heaven.”

“Me and Jongdae?” If you weren’t already buzzed you’d deny it more. But the permission to speak openly about your feelings for the DJ is too tempting. “You think so?”

Before he can tease you again a motion up ahead catches your focus. Jongdae looks up without tilting his head. His eyes cut to the left, to the two overflowing booths that are filled with the usual crew from the Exodus Mall. With amusement you follow his eye line as he scans the dance floor, looking for something. He never breaks the movement of his hands, spinning the vinyl and working the controls.

Finally his focus lands on you and Baekhyun at the bar. Jongdae’s eyes widen and that unreadable expression settles on his features, no emotion escaping. Your heart picks up, cheeks heating with awareness. There’s nothing to do but hold his gaze for long seconds while the club pulses with life around you. Isolated and together, even across the room.

And then Baekhyun ruins it.

With a comically large wave he smiles at Jongdae. The motion breaks Jongdae’s focus and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head at his friend’s ridiculousness. A smile tugs at his lips and he gives you a look of commiseration and you laugh, reaching over to ruffle Baekhyun’s blonde hair.

The song changes and Jongdae finally looks away. A second later the bartender appears, asking you for your next order. Baekhyun waits patiently beside you, arms folded against the bar, his smugness a tangible thing in the air between you two.

You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror behind the bar, visible between the clear shelves of liqueurs and syrups. Could he feel the same way? Does Jongdae imagine holding you, kissing you, being with you the same way you do with him in your unguarded moments?

The two of you already do so much together - work five days a week. Meals alone or with friends. Nights here, separate but still united in the bubble of the dance club. It strikes you just how thin the line is between friends and coworkers and … something more. A four-letter sinful word that starts with L and implies dangerous things like hands touching hands followed by lips and skin and teeth. A different four-letter word full of softness and commitment that has no place being in your mind at the same time as Jongdae’s name.

A hand rests gently on your shoulder. “I told you,” Baek says sincerely. He disappears after waggling his damned eyebrows one more time and leaves you at the bar, wondering.

Half of you wants to confess to him out of genuine affection and desire for connection; you can’t escape the way he makes you long to be reckless and daring and bold and romantic in the kind of grand gesture sense that you’d have rolled your eyes at before you met him. The delicate balance makes your palms sweat and your glass shake slightly as you raise it to your lips. From nerves or excitement or a mix of the two.

You could make the first move, but the logical half of your mind wins out. Instead you swallow your drink in three gulps and head over to the DJ booth to talk to him and nothing more. Close enough to be comforted by his nearness but keeping your desire closeted behind your fear. Tonight that’s all you can manage.

Passing by Yixing and Lavender dancing is a reminder of all the good love can bring. Yixing’s hands holding her close, her arms folded around his neck and their foreheads together. Intimate words are shared that aren’t meant for your ears, even if you could hear them over the sound of the music.

But just beyond is Baekhyun and Hitch. She laughs and dances out of his way as he tries to tickle her. They’re obviously in love to anyone who watches, so why haven’t they admitted it and had a go at being together? Maybe it’s for the best, you wonder. If trying and failing and ruining what you have it worse than never trying at all.

Before you can wander too far down the road of doubt and consequences you remember how it felt to have Jongdae’s hand on top of yours. The thought of tomorrow and the days after disappear altogether when you feel Jongdae’s eyes on you once more, drawing you closer to him, whether he knows his effect on you or not. When you reach the booth you decide to stop thinking in general, and let yourself feel instead.

Saturday night and he's in his element. In the booth, far away from the rest of the crowd but still a part of it. Adrenaline in his veins. Music is Jongdae’s therapy. An alter ego much like the comic book characters he read about growing up. It's the skin he can put on when he's tired of being himself. A place where he can set down the baggage of his identity for a night and get lost in the beats.

He closes his eyes, savoring the pattern of the vinyl beneath his fingertips.

Suddenly, he feels you. Of course you're here. He's never free from you, he thinks with a rueful smile. First you invaded this place, his escape and his temple. Then you wormed your way into his business as though you always belonged there. Now you're occupying his senses the way you occupy his thoughts at all hours.

For a beat he admires you, standing at the bar rolling your eyes while Baekhyun waves dramatically. He drinks you in with a last look at your fabulous legs before reluctantly turning back to switching out one album for the next. Lately you’ve taken to joining him for a bit while he spins and he hopes that once again you’ll come up to the booth tonight.

He's not a patient man, or a subtle one. If he wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone. Severed with the kind of brutal finality he showed to anyone from his time after M.I.T. There are no second chances as far as he's concerned. But still, you remain. Infuriating, exhilarating. Never far from his consciousness.

'You look like you're having a good time!'

Sooner than expected your voice breaks his trance and he lifts his eyes to look at you. His heart thumps painfully in his chest and he swallows harshly. He doesn't know how you do it - how you effortlessly change to match your surroundings.

One minute you're his office manager, polite and respectful and skilled. Already he sees the business taking shape, becoming more cohesive and smooth beneath your talented mind and heart. And your feisty insistence that he upgrade and finesse his marketing and finally finish putting together a website for Chen’s.

The next minute you're leaning over the edge of the booth, chest coming forward and revealing your neckline. The red is fitting on you. It brings out the natural flush in your cheeks and makes you look perpetually alive. He feels stagnant by comparison, a man of stone who remains unchanging while the world passes him by.

The tumble of hair across your shoulders and the delight in your eyes are so beautiful he wants to reach for you. To reach for more, be more than who he has been - afraid and alone. Bitterness lives in his heart, swatting away anyone who gets too close. But here you are, knocking once more on the door of his being.

He finds his voice, his hands thankfully moving on muscle memory as he drops in the next remix. 'It's good energy tonight,' he fumbles. 'I love this song.' You nod in agreement.

It’s easy, being with you. Together you talk about work and the music he plays and your group of friends. Chanyeol and Bijoux, who finally got together again after what seems like months of back and forth. Bets on how long Minseok will wait before he proposes to Bookworm, now that they’re an official item. Joking about Baekhyun and Hitch like always.

He shows off for you, just a little. Spins 'Scream' by Michael and Janet jackson with a bit more pizazz than usual. It strikes him as amusing how much he always hated being watched before this. Not that many people pay particular attention to him as a DJ, but he thinks he might like the way it feels to be watched by you.

He wants to watch you, too, for as long as you let him. He already can’t take his eyes off you. No matter how much that idea might terrify him. When he drops the next mix and the crowd cheers at ‘Tubthumping’ he gives you a rare broad smile and it's like being punched in the chest when you return it with an unexpectedly shy one of your own.

Jongdae almost invites you into the booth. He sees it as though it were one of the romantic comedies that are so popular right now. You would take your place in front of him. He'd get to rest his hand on top of yours, guiding your movements. Maybe as you got the hang of it he would slide them to hold your hips, keeping your back to his chest as his mouth finds your neck.

Liz invites you to dance and Jongdae wipes the probably awed look off his face with effort. He needs some cold water, immediately.

Friday September 19th

Jongdae is upset about something. It’s not so much that you now seem to be able to pick up his moods with ease, which is true, but the fact that he is nearly tearing his hair out. A piece of paper sits in front of him on the desk but it’s too far away for you to read.

By the time he groans for the fifth time you finally speak up. ‘Are you alright?’

His head jerks up and his eyes are tired when they meet yours. Not ‘it’s been a long week’ tired, but something sad in his expression that makes him look fragile and younger than his years.

For a moment he shakes his head. Then he picks up the paper and waves it in the air, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. The confusion on his normally self-assured face would be comical if it wasn’t such an obviously distressing situation. Finally he drops the paper and leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

‘I just got word that they’re demolishing the apartment building I live in. I have to move by November 1st.’

Instantly you want to hug him or hold his hand. ‘Your grandfather’s apartment?’

Jongdae nods. ‘They’re tearing it down so they can put in some luxury condos. Yet another classic neighborhood about to be wiped out in the name of progress.’ He sighs, looking at the ceiling to compose himself. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so-’

‘No, it’s -’ you start, unsure of your destination. ‘It’s an important place. And it’s your home. Don’t apologize for being pissed off about it.’

He nods, taken aback. ‘Exactly. It’s where I grew up. I’ve also never had to look for an apartment or move, either. So this will be dreadful.’

You bite the inside of your cheek. The offer to help practically leaps from your mouth and you hold it close for a moment, making sure you don’t rush into something that’s out of your depth. But as always your logic overrules your fear.

‘I could help, if you like?’ He’s just your boss slash co-worker. It’s innocent. It’s harmless, right? ‘I’ve moved so often with school and everything. I know my way around the city.’

In the ensuing pause Jongdae’s solemnity returns, his mouth and the lines of his face don’t give away any emotion. But, as always, he holds you in place with his expression. And his eyes have that fire within that he seems to only show to you. ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

You nod, case closed. Turning back to your computer you lie to yourself further, pretending not to notice how his voice lowered. As though he knew you weren’t just offering for help with his living situation. But something more raw and painful that he isn’t prepared to hold on his own just yet.

For how picky you thought you were about apartments, Jongdae has you beat by a mile. Student housing accustomed you to wonky flooring and cramped kitchens and the charming yet ancient windows on many older Seattle homes. But his grandfather’s gorgeous pre-war unit had made Jongdae’s tastes quite particular.

On Tuesdays and on weekends you pulled up listings and showed Jongdae around the city by way of it’s apartments, condos, and houses. He enjoyed the nature surrounding Greenlake, the affordable houses north of UW in Ravenna, and the vibe of Ballard and Fremont. But he ruled anything north of 520 out quickly as ‘too far from the store.’ The luxury of walking to work on nicer days was something he wasn’t willing to part with.

The same unfortunately ruled out a townhouse in Alki that you had salivated over, a block from the beach. Pioneer Square had some great lofts that would have been perfect for a music-lover like Jongdae, but he vetoed those as well. Along with all the trendy industrial lofts near the stadiums, claiming he hated all the construction going on nearby.

It should have been frustrating, to spend endless hours watching him nix perfectly wonderful places. In Queen Anne he hated the hills. Westlake he disliked the mall. Madrona, Leschi, Montlake, Magnolia, and Lake Union all came close but still he shook his head and said ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to landlord after landlord.

It should have driven you mad, but all it did was make you like him more.

Falling in love with Jongdae isn’t what you had planned. But from the first night you saw him at the club some part of you knew it was inevitable, the way the rain in autumn starts off as a light drizzle and before you know it becomes a torrential downpour, blanketing the city and saturating every exposed corner.

He always brought you coffee and insisted on buying breakfast or lunch. He always picked you up, right on time. Held doors and made sure he didn’t walk too fast and did the thing where his arm hovered over your back when the two of you were in crowded spaces. Not touching, but close enough you could feel him protecting you. On anyone else you would have absolutely hated that, but of course from him, you craved it.

Day after day you listened to music in his car as the two of you drove around little neighborhoods hoping to find something, complaining about how tight and ridiculous the parking situation always is. Joking about your friends or the news or the latest books you’re reading. They hardly felt like dates. No, they felt like something even more insidious. Like being in a relationship with him. Easy and warm and friendly and the kind of thing you could get used to.

But eventually it had to end, before it seemed like either of you were ready.

On a surprisingly warm Tuesday in October the two of you walk into a place that no one could object to. The building is in south Capitol Hill, close to Cal Anderson and only a fifteen or twenty minute walk from the mall. It’s designed in the classic Victorian style of the neighborhood, but was completed just three years ago. Small pane windows and a fireplace with a carved mantle and dark spires on the roof, all with brand new insulation and appliances.

Sunlight floods the corner unit on the top floor and you gasped as soon as the door opened. Jongdae stands beside you as the landlord goes over the details of the square footage and the building amenities, but neither of you are listening anymore.

‘What do you think?’ he asks softly. The five-story building sits on a slight hill and overlooks the rest of downtown, with a partial water view around the tall downtown skyscrapers.

‘I think it’s as close to perfect as you’re going to get.’

He moves closer and rests his palms on the window sill, looking around for a moment before turning his head to watch you. ‘Good.’

After a long pause Jongdae pushes off the windows and politely interrupts the landlord, who is currently opening every single cabinet in the kitchen and giving a detailed run down of his wife’s favorite tupperware, asking about the deposit. The way he phrased it along with the attentive way he waited for your approval makes you wonder if he wasn’t just picking this apartment for himself.

Imagining yourself there scares you. If he was seeking your opinion… surely he would be hoping you’d come over? Neither of you have spoken a word about the bizarre yet undeniable attraction you have, but that hardly forms the basis of a relationship. A boyfriend who wanted to be sure you liked his new place would be one thing, but your friend and co-worker who has never admitted to even liking you is quite another.

You lean against the edge of the window and run a finger along the ledge. A small part of you whispers that you’re supposed to be doing something else, eventually. You won’t work at Chen’s forever, but it wasn’t meant to be this hard to leave. It’s just a stop on the way to your final destination. So why do you want to get off the train altogether and make a home here?

Would it be so terrible, to be with him? It’s been a fantasy for so long that imagining real life with him makes you suck in a breath as though you’ve been punched in the gut. It could be a fresh start for you both. The end of one adventure and the beginning of a new one. You remind yourself that being in love doesn’t mean you can’t travel or change the world. Being with Jongdae would hopefully only encourage your dreams, not stifle them.

As they discuss deposit and applications and timelines for moving into the apartment you wander into the other rooms.

The bathroom has a large tub and dual sinks. You can only imagine what your expression must be like right now, given your swirling emotions, and avoid the mirror altogether. The second bedroom is more like a cozy office, narrow enough for a desk and a couch and perhaps some bookshelves. In the bedroom you hesitate at the doorway, reaching up to play with the pendant of your necklace.

Windows run along both sides, meeting in a corner. You think of plants lining the wide ledges and going to sleep with the setting westward sun and how short of a walk it would be to get breakfast from your favorite bagel shop that’s just a block away. It’s close to the mall and the club. It’s truly perfect.

As you watch cars pass and people walk by down below you space out, the image blurring and becoming Jongdae on a bed in this room, leaning back against the pillows with a book in his lap. Smiling at you and pulling you close since he knows you refuse to get up earlier than you have to on your days off.

Inexplicably you want to cry and you huff out a laugh, squeezing your eyes tightly only to find that they’re damp. It’s not anger that the vision inspires in you or even sadness. It’s frustration and amusement that war inside you as you think about how you fell in love with him without your consent. Rational thinking should have stopped this long ago, but all you can think as you stand there is how nice it is to be with him. And how you wouldn’t mind being with him for a long while.

The only thing that helps ease the tension in your chest is how he looks at you on the drive back to your place. You fill the time with discussions of moving trucks and hiring a company to help with the heavy lifting, but you’re both clearly distracted by other thoughts. He pulls his car up to your apartment and you try to avoid looking at him as you say goodbye, but he briefly rests his hand on your knee to get your attention.

Your hand stops in its motion to grab your bag and ends up nearly on top of his, but you make no movement to break the contact. ‘Thank you,’ he says softly. ‘I mean it.’ Jongdae turns his hand and holds yours, giving it a quick squeeze and looking like he never wants to let go.

October 12th, 1997

You’re eating cheesy bread at Barada with Hitch, but today she’s different - evasive and nervous in a strange way. 'So I - uhh. I have news,' she finally says. She sips her drink and looks at the table rather than at you. 'I don't know if I should tell you though.'

Pausing in your chewing you raise a brow. 'You can tell me anything, you know that.'

She awkwardly runs a hand along her neck. 'No I know. I just -' she huffs out a breath and blows her hair off her forehead..

'You and Baekhyun finally had sex and you're pregnant?' You smirk at her as she chokes on her soda. 'Come on, just spit it out.'

She waves and hand and very quickly says - 'There's a project manager position open in the gaming division. Some new big thing and they're looking for an upstart to head up operations.'

You frown and tear off another slide of bread, not understanding her odd behavior at all. 'Okay… and you're thinking what, thinking of applying?'

'No, you dork. I'm thinking you should apply.' She tilts her head like she assumed your reaction would be more immediate. 'You wanted me to keep an eye out for you, right? I didn't want to say anything since - '

'Since?' you ask, both afraid of what she'll say and dying to know. Terrified it will have to do with Jongdae and the swirling mess of feelings you have for him.

It’s her turn to be wry. 'Since you and Jongdae have been attached at the hip.'

'Really?' You stall, taking an enormous bite.

Hitch tosses a balled-up napkin at you. 'Yes. When I met you in college I thought 'there goes the most intense person I've ever met.’ And then I met Jongdae after he opened Chen’s and he gave you a run for your money.' She dusts off her hands. 'You both could be making millions someday. Taking over countries or saving the world or something. We all know it. I don't know, I didn’t want to mention this because together you guys seem happier. Softer? Something like that..'

'And you think me getting a job there would ruin that?' Her words mirror your fears exactly and your stomach drops.

'It's taken me years to get Jongdae to even look at me after I told him where I worked. He hates Microsoft. With good reason, from what you've implied. I'm sure you could make it work, but trust me when I say if you get swept up into that upper management spiral, we probably won't see you again.'

'I won't completely abandon you guys just because I get a new job.' But doubt whispers in your mind. The long hours and the endless meetings and the extra work to always be the best, to always be ahead. 'Okay fine, I see your point. I still have to try, right? I should at least apply.'

She rests her hand over yours where you have your napkin in a death grip on the table. 'You don't have to do anything, babe. We'll always be here for you even if you become a tech mogul overnight. But will it make you happy? Whatever comes next... do it for yourself, okay? Not just cause you think you should.'

You smile and hold her hand for a moment, wrinkling your nose. 'Thank you, Hitch. I needed that. What about you? You said you were going to apply for that transfer to the NYC office, are you still considering it?'

She blows out a deep breath and pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to it for a moment. 'God, I don't know. My whole life is here. And I'd have to leave the theater.' She rests her chin on her palm and looks up at you with a dramatic frown. 'My friends are all here. My family. I love where I'm at, but I know that something eventually has to change.'

'Baekhyun?' You grin at her, wondering if the move might finally force them to admit their feelings.

Hitch straightens and looks across the food court to the movie theater. 'Yeah, something like that.' She gives you a dramatic waggle of her brow. 'Jongdae?'

You groan and fold your arms, sinking lower into your seat. Even your roommates ask about him now. Everyone can surely see how you light up around him. The way you gravitate towards the DJ booth on club nights like a moth to a flame. The way you draw him into conversations and brag about him. It should be forbidden territory, as untouchable and unreadable as he is. Not to mention he's your boss.

But worst of all he still hasn't said anything about it, nothing more than the occasional flirtatious comment or lingering look. Even after all your time together and the way he looked at you in the new apartment. For all you know he sees you as a very stubborn employee who happens to force your way into things.

You cover your face with your hands and sigh. 'Something like that.'

Hitchcock stands and takes your shared tray of dishes to the bus station with a throaty laugh. 'That's what I thought.'

November 1st, 1997

Jongdae is frantically packing up more of his bookshelf when the doorbell rings. He smiles on instinct. It's not something he can help anymore, not when he knows it's you on the other side. Right at nine in the morning, just when you promised the movers would be here. With a last look around his living room at the organized chaos he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and stands.

It surprised him how quickly you agreed to help with - well, everything, really.

When he told you about his move he didn’t expect anything would come of it. It's his problem, not yours. He didn't imagine for a moment you'd give the announcement more attention than a sympathetic word or two. But you stepped to his side. Put up with his grouchy persistence in believing that there's no place in the world, let alone in Seattle, that would be as amazing as this apartment. As it always seems with you, he found himself proven wrong.

You didn't let him wallow and guided him with your decisiveness through the checklist of everything he'd need to do. A few months ago he would have waved you off. Decided you were being bossy or nosy and turned down the help with a cold shoulder. 

But now he wants you around for everything and the thought makes him pause with his hand on the doorknob.

He made sure you like his new apartment too because - when he isn't expecting it he imagines you there. Not just as his co-worker or employee or even as his friend. As someone more permanent. Lasting. It's not that he needs you to run his life for him, he's perfectly capable of doing things on his own. It's just that he loves how you barge your way into his world and refuse to let him be alone.

Jongdae doesn't know how yet, but he wants to show you how he feels in return. It's like trying to run with a blindfold on, but he desperately hopes that he can figure out how to care about you in the way you deserve. Bringing you coffee and asking about your day and giving you all the freedom you want at work are a start, but they barely scratch the surface of how much he feels for you.

He's got one idea. A big one. An insane one, that you'll probably call him nuts for suggesting. If he ever gets up the nerve someday.

The buzzer sounds again and he shakes himself out of it. Finally he pulls it open and is greeted by your smiling face in the morning gray light. Hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a long black shirt and faded overalls. He leans against the doorframe, wondering if he's ever seen anything more beautiful than you on his doorstep.

'So, I have a surprise,' you start. With a free hand you nervously brush your hair behind your ear. It's so unlike you that he immediately wonders if something is wrong.

'What is it?'

Before you can answer, noise in the parking lot draws his focus. His front door faces the open-air walkway that leads to the stairs down to the parking lot. He expected a moving truck and several buff men in logoed shirts. Instead it's a scrappy group of your friends - his friends now, he supposes - looking tired but ready to help.

Junmyeon and Jane drink coffee and pull furniture dollys and heavy blankets out of a Uhaul truck. Liz and Jongin are leaning against the cab of Sehun's car and laugh at him as he and Yixing sleep peacefully in the backseat. Chanyeol and his girlfriend are paused on the landing below making out, a tape gun in each of their hands. Another car catches a break in the flow of traffic and pulls into one of the guest spaces. Minseok and Bookworm step out and yawn, tying sweatshirts around their waists.

Jongdae repeats his question. Or at least he tries to, but emotion catches his throat and all he can do is stare at you with a mix of surprise and what he's sure is a very naked expression of affection.

'How did you do this?' he asks when he can finally breathe again.

You tilt your head and grin at him, pride making you radiant even in the dull mist of the morning. 'Is this okay?' For a moment you look worried, tucking your hands in the pockets of your overalls and taking a step back.

'I know I said I'd hire the movers, but I thought this might be better? I didn't think everyone would be here, especially after the Halloween party last night. Soo and Sunshine are working, but I think - wait,' you turn and yell down to the group in the lot. 'Has anyone heard from Baek and Hitch?'

Chanyeol reluctantly pulls away from his girlfriend and replies. 'Yeah, he messaged me at the ass-crack of dawn. He said he and Hitch are fine, but they won't be able to make it until later.'

With a curious look you thank Chanyeol and turn back to Jongdae. 'Okay, so almost everyone came.'

'It's because you're incredible,' he agrees, heart warm and in awe of you. Stepping back, he shoves the door stop in with his foot to prop it open and gestures for you to come in.

He doesn't get two steps before your hand finds his bicep, stopping him. 'No, I'm just absolutely amazing at organizing things,' you laugh. ‘But they didn't just come for me Jongdae, they came because they're your friends. They wanted to help.'

The intensity in your voice makes him pause. Like you're trying to say far more than your words. He gets lost for a moment in your beautiful eyes and swallows harshly. His past, the negative parts, haven't come up much - his failed first business, the trail of broken friendships he's left behind him, the ensuing guard he's had up since - but you've paid far more attention than he realized.

He doesn't miss the meaning behind your words, or the look in your eyes; what you're asking of him. To trust you, to trust them. To release his death grip on the walls he keeps up to protect himself. But no matter how determined you are he knows he has to be the one to dismantle them. His heart is nervous and he instead focuses on your hand on his arm.

For a beat he wants to kiss you, then and there with almost all of his and your friends just outside. Instead he lets his actions speak when his mouth isn't able to and pulls you into a hug. You freeze for a moment, stiff with surprise. But after a moment it melts away and you hold him back, wrapping your arms around his waist. His head spins when you rest your forehead against his shoulder, unable to process the fact that you’re in his arms in reality, not just his dreams.

'You're the most amazing person,' he murmurs against your hair.

The sound of loud voices and thumping of boots on stairs make him pull back. You give him another smile, warmer and softer this time. Something that's private for him only. 'I know.'

He barks out a laugh as Sehun and Jongin come in through the doorway. 'Let's do this!' Sehun calls, clapping his hands together.

'We promise we won't steal anything,' Jongin jokes, looking around Jongdae's place with obvious fascination.

Bijoux organizes the packing party while Chanyeol grabs Jongdae's keys so he and Sehun can take the first load of boxes over to the new place while Junmyeon, Jongin, and Jongdae load up the bigger furniture pieces into the Uhaul. Jongdae lets out a rusty laugh as Junmyeon dubs them ‘the J squad.’ You work around them, collecting all the random trinkets and knicknacks that have escaped other boxes.

He closed Chen’s today to hopefully knock this entire project out in one swoop. Ripping it off like a Bandaid. After the first big load everyone splits up into teams. Sehun and Yixing pack and load the rest of the boxes and smaller items into the cars. Jongin, who is absolutely not trusted around breakable items, goes with Junmyeon to return the Uhaul to the rental shop and pick up lunch and drinks for everyone with the cash Jongdae insisted they take. 

And Minseok leads everyone else on a cleaning checklist he’s created with military precision. It's been so long Jongdae doesn't even know if he has a damage deposit. His grandfather took excellent care of the place and he kept it up in his absence, so he hopes it's not too much work to tidy.

Yixing’s boombox keeps up a steady flow of music throughout the morning and lunch time. With everyone’s help, and of course with the added fuel from the pizza and beverages, things are just wrapping up at the old place. You stay behind with Jongdae to take a last look around and turn in the keys, forcing him to take a few photos in the space to remember it.

‘This is it, I guess,’ he says, holding out the key and laying it on the kitchen counter with a small metallic sound.

‘How do you feel?’ You lean your hip against the fridge and drink from a water bottle.

Sunset over Lake Union is his favorite time of day and it’s hard to stand the thought of missing out on a last one. It’s barely two in the afternoon and it’s hours until golden hour. Rather than lie he simply says the truth. ‘I wish I could see the sun go down one last time.’

You come and stand next to him, close enough he can smell the light scent of your perfume and see the flush of your chest from the day’s exertion. ‘We can wait.’

He thinks of everyone at his new place, unloading boxes. ‘But everyone-’

‘Jongdae,’ you start. ‘They’ll be fine. You know Sehun has probably fallen asleep on your couch already. Baek and Hitch and the openers from Barada will be heading over soon. Some people have to head out for closing shifts but it’s already been decided that we’re doing movie night and Chinese take out tonight at your new place.’

‘Oh really?’ He presses his lips together to try not to laugh.

‘I don’t think you have much of a choice,’ you tease. ‘Trust me, they’ll be fine for another few hours.’

‘Alright then,’ he says after a pause.

The two of you sit on the bare hardwood floors and talk until the sun finally sets, just before five pm. He doesn’t yell his feelings for you at full volume like he wishes he could. He doesn’t dance with you or kiss you slowly in the empty apartment, there’s far too many emotions in his heart today to try and cope with more. But after he locks up and leaves the keys behind he does take your hand to help you into the car. And he does hold it for far longer than necessary before pulling back to shut the door. 

It’s not much, but like his new apartment it’s the start of something.

November 3rd, 1997

You’ve got to tell Jongdae now, but nerves eat away at you and your resolve lessens minute by minute. Since the move he’s been warmer, more open, and you don’t want to ruin that. But you can’t keep this from him any longer.

Applying at Microsoft was supposed to be a long shot, a shot in the dark, or some other kind of shot that never meant to lead anywhere. But still it’s one you took and one that ended up paying off way faster and more successfully than you’d planned. After two interviews last week you sit with a job offer on your answering machine back home and a choice to make.

They need your decision by tomorrow and as Monday winds into early afternoon your deadline approaches. You bite your lip and vacillate wildly between thoughts. On the one hand this could be a good thing - if you’re no longer working at the same place, there’s nothing stopping the two of you from being together, right?

But what if Jongdae can’t see past his hurt and freaks out, assuming you’re leaving him like everyone else has? Or worse, what if he never cared about you that way at all?

Your stomach drops at the thought of walking out of here into your dream job, but feeling empty, leaving behind someone who has come to mean so much to you.

Your roommates Liz and Jane, Hitch, hell even Baekhyun weaseled the truth out of you at Shari’s on Saturday. Stone cold sober and still you let out everything to him sitting in your group’s favorite booth. About how you might in fact love Jongdae and how badly you want this opportunity, how utterly terrifying and exhilarating change can be simultaneously.

None of them told you to choose one way or the other. They didn’t say ‘take the job’ or ‘turn down the job,’ they all said that the decision is one only you can make and that they’d support you no matter what you picked. And maybe each time you cried a little and all of them were good enough friends to just hug you and not mention it.

But all of them told you one thing that now sits lodged in your throat. Whatever else happens, you both deserve to know. Jongdae deserves the truth about what you’re considering, and you deserve to finally know once and for all how he feels about you and what he wants.

After he locks the doors and starts cleaning up, you rise, holding your hands behind your back so tightly your knuckles are most assuredly white. ‘Hey, can we talk for a minute?’

Jongdae nods. ‘Of course. I’ve got something I wanted to discuss with you as well, actually. But you go first.’ He folds his arms and leans against his desk, giving you that affectionate close-lipped smile of his. You desperately hope what you’re about to say doesn’t wipe it off his face.

Not one to beat around the bush you dive in. ‘I applied for another job.’ The words sound blunt and harsh. You swallow and try again, hating how his brow furrows in confusion. ‘Not because I don’t like it here. But Hitch told me about an opening and it sounded - sounds perfect for what I want to do in the long run. It’s on the new gaming system division… at Microsoft.’

He doesn’t say anything for a long pause. Instead of meeting your eyes his have dropped to the ground and you wish you could reach out and touch him. Anything to make sure he hears you, understands you. But a whisper of fear makes you keep quiet, worrying the connection you had wasn’t meant to last, if something so trivial could break it.

‘I thought you were happy here,’ he says finally.

You hold your hands out in front of you, palms up in a gesture of entreaty. ‘I do, Jongdae. It’s not that at all. I thought this might - be good for us. If we’re not working together, then -’

When he finally looks up his gaze is distant, his mouth a thin line. The shutters have fallen over his face. ‘By going to work at the one place I despise?’

Anger makes your skin hot and you fold your arms as well, in defiance. ‘But you talk to Hitch and Baekhyun? They haven’t turned into the devil incarnate yet.’

He gives a quick, harsh shrug. ‘I like them both, sure. But being friends is one thing. This is quite another.’

It’s almost a declaration, yet so far from how you dreamed this moment might go. ‘What are you saying, Jongdae?’ You need to hear it. After so many weeks of trying you need him to at least do you the courtesy of speaking it out loud.

‘You know how I feel about you.’ There’s hope in his eyes. But it’s so buried amongst hurt and suspicion it’s not even close to reassuring. ‘I want you to stay. Here.’ With me, he doesn’t say, but you feel it.

Nothing drives you more up the wall than being told what to do. His words fall against your own shield and the plea within goes unnoticed. ‘Would you really shut me off if I took this job? Does hating them mean more than wanting what’s best for me?’ You finally step forward, reaching a hand for his arm.

‘I’ve supported you in everything,’ you start, unable to stop now that you’ve started. ‘In finding community here. In your move. Even in the business, who was the one who pushed you to keep growing? I don’t intend to stop being there for you, but I need you to support me in this. Please.’

He just watches you, not saying a word. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. People outside the glass doors go about their day, shopping or getting an early dinner, unaware of the standoff taking place merely feet from them. You wonder what it would take to make his guard truly ever come down.

With how quickly it snapped back into place you feel tired all the way down to your bones. Maybe it will never be enough, even if you did stay here forever.

‘I’ll pay out your PTO in these next two weeks,’ he says softly. ‘No need to come back into the office. If that works for you?’ His last statement is thrown on as a hasty addendum. Like he’d realized how harsh it sounded and he wanted to dull the sting. It’s a sliver of kindness, a glimpse at the man he almost allowed himself to be. But it’s not enough.

‘Fine with me.’ You move past him, into the supply room to grab your purse and jacket, proud of the way your voice doesn’t waver. Pausing in the hallway you turn to look back at him, still frozen against his desk. ‘I’m leaving this job, I’m not leaving you.’

He turns to look at you, running a hand through his hair and messing up the ends. ‘It will go the same way, I know it. In the end you’ll disappear too.’

‘Jongdae, I’m trying. I need you to at least meet me halfway.’

You don’t wait for his reply, if one was ever even going to come. Instead you continue down the small hallway and push out the back door into the mall. It’s only once you’re in your car that you remember he mentioned something he wanted to discuss. You wonder what it was, and if you’ll ever find out.

Jongdae stares after you for long seconds after you’re gone. He doesn’t hold out hope that you’ll come back, not after the way he treated you. Instead he feels stuck in place, like if he holds his breath and doesn’t exhale then the last five minutes didn’t happen.

But his lungs burn and his chest aches, and when he finally sighs it comes out ragged. He fumbles for the switch and the store descends into darkness. Shafts of light still come through, angled in from the glass ceiling of the mall’s concourse. Jongdae stands just outside of it, protected. With no one to see he sinks into his desk chair and drops his head into his hands.

The tears that clog his throat are at first unexpected, but as the minutes drag on he finally gives into them. He should have known they were coming all along. Not just from the moment you walked into his life, but from the day his grandfather died. From the day his father passed and his mother became a ghost rather than a permanent, tangible figure. 

From the day Julian took Jongdae’s designs and credited them as his own to the investors, cutting Jongdae out of not only the business they were building, but out of their group of friends as well.

Misery and hopelessness whisper against his skin and for long minutes he lets himself wallow. He knows it’s no one’s fault but his own that he ruined things with you. His grandfather taught him long ago that other’s actions are theirs, and that it’s what Jongdae does in response that is his responsibility. But he can’t deny that he indulges in thoughts of blaming the cruelty of life for making him so goddamn stubborn.

He swallows and leans back in his chair, feeling as though his body is made of hard, unyielding stone. Maybe it's better this way, he wonders, drumming his fingers on the wood desk before him. Perhaps he should let his worst fears dominate his life, believing that the risk is far greater than any potential reward that love or friendship could offer him.

Is it better to be alone, knowing that he’ll always be safe, free of anyone who might hurt him?

Jongdae groans. The voice inside him that whispers No sounds first like his grandfather, both encouraging and feisty at the thought of Jongdae giving up. Next it sounds like you. He knows you’d roll your eyes and call him grouchy, always thinking better of him than he does of himself. You’d tell him his bark is far worse than his bite and to get over himself already. At this thought, at any thought of you, really, he smiles.

Familiar voices make him look out into the mall. Sehun and Jongin walk by carrying sodas, rubbing their stomachs. He can imagine how they’re complaining about eating too much Barada pizza, as always. 

They pass by quickly but the image stays with him, of their friendship. Jongdae thinks of Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s, how opposite and yet how similar they are. Baekhyun and Hitch, who are always teasing each other but who he knows would do anything at the drop of a hat.

He’s held himself back the past few months. First a reluctant observer. Then a tentative participant. The endless exhaustion of being careful, keeping his distance, catches up to Jongdae as he sits in that chair. If it weren’t for you maybe he’d never be brave enough to try again after how hard it was growing up. But if he is to be the kind of person, the kind of partner you deserve, now is the time to make the attempt.

It’s up to Jongdae to be the one to try, to reach out. He can’t let others find him anymore. For the first time in a long time Jongdae stands up and goes looking for a friend.

Junmyeon still has an hour before his store closes and he looks up at Jongdae as he walks in through the door of Guardians. ‘Hey, JD! How’s it going?’ If he notices that Jongdae’s been crying, he’s kind enough to not mention it.

‘Are you busy?’ Jongdae’s throat is raw but Jun has a young son, surely tears won’t bother him.

‘Not really, I’m just organizing some shipments going out tomorrow,’ Junmyeon answers. He sets down his pencil and rests his hands on the counter. A crease forms between his brows the longer he watches Jongdae. ‘Is everything alright?’

He wants to do this right, but all he can find are inelegant words. Junmyeon is as close as he has to a best friend at the moment, and he hopes he doesn’t inconvenience him. ‘Not really.’

Jun tilts his head and gestures to the door, picking up Jongdae’s unspoken request and running with it, just like he’d hoped he would. ‘I can close up shop a bit early. Want to talk in my office?’

Jongdae runs a hand over his face and nods. Grateful and relieved he manages a small laugh. ‘That would be great, thanks.’

After Jun locks the doors and flips the sign to closed he motions for Jongdae to follow him. The back room of Guardians is much warmer that at Chen’s Electronics, in style rather than temperature. Jongdae sits on a beige sofa that’s even more comfortable than it looks. The walls are filled with framed photos and art prints and various other pieces that give the space an art gallery vibe.

With a sigh Junmyeon tidies up the mess of papers and crayons and various cups with kid lids. ‘Sorry, Sungmin loves to draw but we haven’t quite nailed the clean up yet.’

‘Don’t worry about it on my behalf,’ Jongdae says sincerely. ‘I’m just grateful you’re willing to listen.’

The space has a narrow hallway leading to a back door and a closet that’s probably full of supplies, much like Jongdae’s store. Jun takes the cups to a small sink in the mini-kitchen in the corner. His brow lifts in confusion. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?’

Could it be that simple? No need to prove himself or do everything possible to impress Junmyeon, like he did with Julian. ‘Yeah, we are I suppose.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to imply I don’t consider us friends, I just - well, have a few trust issues when it comes to that sort of thing.’

Junmyeon dries his hands on a dishtowel and blows his hair off his forehead with a huffed laugh. ‘We’ve all got a few issues, don’t we?’ He moves to the table and takes a seat, sliding a glass of water towards Jongdae and sipping from one of his own. ‘I’ve got the time. So quit stalling and tell me about yours.’

He sags into the couch and drinks from the glass. ‘Alright then.’

For once he doesn’t second guess himself or try to read the minutiae of Jun’s expressions to see if he’s annoying him or being too boring. Jongdae simply tells him the truth, trusting his friend to listen. 

He mentions his family and how hard it hit him when his grandfather passed. How strange and yet unbothered he is by the lack of relationship with his mother. The way he was teased growing up and how he was probably the only person in his Master’s program going through puberty. The fact that the mall is the first place he’s ever had friends his own age since childhood.

It’s satisfying to see how pissed off Jun gets when he tells him about Julian and all the bullshit he put Jongdae through. For a while there Jongdae had convinced himself that he was the one in the wrong, that there’d been something he’d done to earn his exile. That it was a deserved punishment. But his friend’s muttered curses remind him that true friends don’t normally backstab each other for money and notoriety.

And finally, he talks of you.

How much he values you at work and how sassy and insistent you were about bringing him into ‘the fold’ of their friend group. The ways in which he wants to be with you and care for you and all his worries of whether or not he’ll be any good at it, given his lack of experience. Junmyeon is neither surprised by his feelings for you nor willing to let him wallow.

‘I even brought prom tickets,’ Jongdae finishes with a groan. He pulls them from the pocket of his jeans and lets his arm fall to the couch cushion. ‘Me. At a prom.’ He almost snorts.

But Junmyeon just purses his lips. ‘Is that really such a stretch?’

Jongdae hums a noise of contemplation. ‘No. I guess not. All our friends are doing it.’ But before Jun can continue he shakes his head. ‘But I’ve messed this all up, so it doesn’t matter either way.’

Loneliness aches in his bones, his hands tired of not holding yours. Wishing he was enough, somehow, to keep you here and keep you warm; enough to make you stay, to make you happy.

Junmyeon raises a brow. ‘I think you’re missing the point entirely my friend. She told you what she needs. All you have to do is listen. She’s asking you to trust her. This job is something she’s worked for and she’s not leaving you for it. She’s just leaving the job. If you want to know you have to ask.’

He sighs deeply. ‘You’re right. But what if it all goes wrong? What if I try and it’s all for nothing in the end?’

Jun dips his chin to his chest, looking at the ground lost in thought. ‘That’s fair. I know a little of that myself, Jongdae. But all you can do is try. There’s sadly no guarantees here. I think you want to make it work and from what I know of her, she wants you as well. It’s time to make the big gesture. Or any kind of gesture, really.’

He groans and smiles, knowing his friend’s fondness for ‘I think you’re right.’ He even has an idea, two in fact. One that’s lived in the back of his mind for weeks and one that’s brewing right now. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Absolutely my friend.’ Jun claps him on the shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

November 19th, 1997

It should have been wonderful news to you that it was a clean break at least. No mess, just walking out the door and leaving behind the man and the job in one fell swoop. But of course, it wasn’t.

Microsoft was delighted when you told them you could start ASAP, but honestly you did it to jump into work rather than spend your time missing Jongdae. Filling your schedule proves to be the easiest way to avoid thinking about what hurts. You still had your roommates and Hitch and everyone else to hang out with, even if you weren’t ready for any Saturday pizza lunches or Shari’s nights quite yet. Both brought you far too close to him to bear right now.

Liz and Jane and Hitch are wonderful and you’ve had not one but two sleepovers since ‘the Jongdae incident.’ If not for their friendship and constant presence you’re sure you would have walled up the hurt and hid it away, not one to normally speak about your pain openly. Not while it’s so fresh. 

Distantly you hope that Jongdae is okay and that he has someone to talk to. If he’s even hurting. 

For all you know he’s completely fine and unaffected by the entire thing. Maybe he’s already found a new office manager and has forgotten about you. But those are the kind of rude and painful thoughts that only come to you at three in the morning when you can’t sleep, when dreams of his hands and his voice and his smile keep you up.

Jongdae calls one Tuesday to ask you to swing by Chen’s to pick something up the next day and you’re suspicious. He wouldn’t say any more, just ‘please come by at six. I have something to give you and I’d like it to be in person.’

You put on your favorite black dress and blazer that make you feel both sexy and confident and head to the mall. If he’s just calling you to twist the knife in deeper, you’ve already decided to leave and not bother letting him hurt you more. But if he’s calling to reconcile… you shake your head, not willing to get your hopes up. Instead you park in your old space and fix your make up in the rearview mirror.

It delights you to see that your old desk is returned to its former state. Just the computer, keyboard, and mouse remain. No one’s personal possessions have taken over the space like yours used to. It shouldn’t make you so happy to see he hasn’t replaced you, but it does.

Jongdae sits at his desk. His hair is in its usual perfect wave but his white button down and slacks have been swapped today for a dark green sweater and tan chinos. He looks ridiculously handsome and you grit your teeth, wishing you could turn off your attraction to him with a switch inside your brain.

He looks up at your knock on the glass door. For a moment he simply stands, drinking you in. Then he moves, walking closer to unlock the door and let you in. 

‘Hi. How are you?’

You blink and try not to laugh. ‘How am I? Jongdae, how do you think I am?’

‘Right, sorry.’ He shakes his head. Carefully he looks you up and down, not bothering to hide his own attraction to you in his hungry gaze. With a swallow he remembers himself and grabs a cardboard banker’s box from in front of his desk. ‘Here. I didn’t want to come by and drop it off. It felt wrong.’

The box holds all the random photos and personal belongings you’d left in your desk, in your haste to leave. Postcards from Amsterdam and family photos and lotions and your favorite scarf you’d been missing. He steps back, resting against the corner of his desk and folding his arms. When you take it he doesn’t say anything, which is not what you’d hoped by any means, but silence is definitely less painful than you’d feared.

‘Well, it’s been an adventure,’ you manage. You lean against your desk and move the box under one arm, holding out a hand to him to shake. Ready to be done with this officially.

He doesn’t move. You can feel words held on the tip of his tongue. Months and months later you know how to read his tells. The tightness in his jaw and the widening of his eyes and how his hand grips the fabric of his sweater. But seconds tick on and still he says nothing. 

He should speak or you should leave. One of you should do something. Instead you’re frozen in time. Eventually your arm aches and you set the box down beside you. You could go first, but pride demands he be the one to confess, if there’s going to be any confessions tonight.

Neither of you caves; twin pillars of resolution, stubbornness, and desire. It’s a game the two of you could play for hours. The tension in the air pulls tighter than a violin. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, unabashedly. His lids grow heavy as he breathes deeply, close enough to smell your gardenia perfume, but just out of reach of being able to touch you.

So this is what it feels like to meet my match, you think, finally acknowledging just how deeply you want him. Enough nights had been spent imagining kissing him, being with him in far more intimate ways than just a holding of hands or a hug. You want more, but only if he wants you, too.

You'd always been told that you were too driven, too smart, too self-sufficient to attract a man. Even in your MBA program where ambition and intelligence were supposedly rewarded, it apparently made you too something to find a good man to date.

But now there’s one right in front of you, looking at you as if you’re the answer to Fermat’s Enigma; a rare and priceless gem he’d been hunting for all his life. But he doesn’t look at you as if you’re art to be admired, a prize to be won. The guard lifts steadily and when he looks at you now it’s as if you’re the kind of miracle he wants to sink his teeth, his tongue, and his fingers into.

Your cheeks grow warm and you’re sure you look just as amazed and turned on as he does. If you had to guess, you’d bet that the number of people who challenge him these days are few, and the number of people who attempt to see the man behind the curtain even fewer.

While everyone else in the world might just see a monolith of a man, a genius, a hardworking and brilliant anomaly, you see the passionate, warm heart that beats in his chest. You know that the tin man really does have feelings and needs, and your heart almost breaks when you realize he’s been searching for you just as fervently as you’ve been searching for someone like him.

The silence in the room is almost too fragile a thing to break. On one side of the moment is a spark of something, a chance to see if this connection is real and deep, or if this is just chemistry and biology combining into lust. If your mind has taken the small gestures of passion and kindness and friendship from him and built it up to be something more than the sum of its parts.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he breathes, voice catching in his throat. Releasing his folded arms he rests his palms on the edges of the desk.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ you admit. Your hands curl in on themselves, trying to fight the way emotion and physical longing make it difficult to be in such a close proximity to him.

‘Okay, then.’ He breaks first, moving with purpose and striding to you in two steps, sliding his hands along your jaw with such softness that you gasp. 

And then, finally, you feel his lips on yours. You grasp his hips, hands freed and aching to touch him, to feel his hard body press against yours with surprising heat.

You meet him with equal passion, working your lips against his steady assault on your composure. For a solid minute you’re in awe that you could feel this much, that his lips and his hands could undo you so rapidly. That they could rebuild you into someone who belongs to him in such a short space of time, after weeks of endless doubt.

He groans against your lips in what feels like similar shock and surrender. Who would have thought that he would cave to your touch just as you did to his? How could someone so grumpy and strong-willed also be so open and vulnerable to this tentative thing between you.

But as he drops a hand and brings it to rest securely on the small of your back you realize there’s a name for this feeling.

You could call it fate. You could call it destiny. You could call it that damned four-letter word or you could call it Darwinism for all you care as his teeth bite gently into your lower lip.

You just know that nothing has ever felt as good and right as his hands claiming you for his own and the smell and heat of him wrapping themselves around you and burrowing their way into your heart.

A whine works its way from your throat as he licks along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. When you open your mouth to him, his tongue slides along your own and you almost lose your balance. With a giggle you could swear you’ve never made before in your life you let him guide you up onto the desk.

He steps between your legs instantly, gripping your hips and continuing his tasting of you. Heat and electricity race down your spine as you fist your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you until there’s no separation.

Banging on the glass doors and whistles come from out in the mall and you freeze. Instead of jerking back in shock and alarm like you’d expect him to, Jongdae confounds you once again. He pulls back slowly, opening his eyes and lifting his hands to gently cup your face. It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes but in less than the time it takes to watch one episode of Friends he’s turned your world on its axis.

You and Jongdae smile at each other and both turn to wave at your group of friends, who are celebrating and clapping. Baekhyun eats from an enormous bag of popcorn, wearing his theater uniform. Jongin and Sehun take large handfuls and Hitch whoops with joy. Liz and Jane and Junmyeon are all smiling, and attempt to force some of the group away to give you privacy.

Jongdae’s hands flex on your waist. ‘I want to try. You’re everything I want, will you please give me the chance to be what you need?’ His voice is raspy and his lips are red and you can’t help but grin.

‘I just want you, okay?’ You fix his messed up hair with both hands and sigh with relief. ‘And for you to admit you like me.’

‘I far more than like you.’ Jongdae rolls his eyes and kisses you once more. ‘You just want me to say you’re right.’

With a laugh you ease yourself off your desk, standing close within his arms and bending to whisper in his ear. ‘I’m always right. I just love when you admit it.’

‘So,’ he starts with an amused quirk of an eyebrow. ‘Will you let me take you to dinner? Us, officially, on a date.’

Your chest feels as if it’s a balloon, expanding so rapidly it might burst. He looks so young and boyish and hopeful your heart feels like it turns to liquid gold. With a delighted grin you lean forward and press your lips to his again, unable to resist.

Joy swims in his irises as he holds you in his arms. He looks at you through his lashes, his lips tilting into lopsided smile. ‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘Yes,’ you answer. ‘Of course.’

‘How’s right now for you?’ He motions to the doors and your friends have finally been corralled to the side of the walkway, revealing an elaborately decorated table in the food court.

You gasp and grip his arm. Jun and Sehun hold the doors open and Jongdae escorts you out. A red tablecloth is spread out over the circular table. The chairs have added plush cushions and several candles have been lit. A bottle of wine and two glasses rest beside several plates of food. You recognize the pizza from Barada, the rest looks like a mix from the other restaurants in the food court. 

With high fives and hugs from your friends they finally leave you and Jongdae alone. Well, almost alone. It’s not a busy time at the mall, but there’s no way to avoid some of the customers turning to watch with amusement and curiosity as they pass by. You pay them no mind as Jongdae holds out your chair and helps you sit. 

The two of you fall back into conversation easy enough, aided by the enormous amount of food and how you no longer have to move your knees away when they bump under the table. Jongdae reaches for your hand and holds it, in full view. He stares at the joined digits with warmth before looking up at you. 

Doubt passes across his face, marring the beauty that contentment lends his features. ‘I don’t -’ he struggles. ‘I don’t know how to keep this much good in my life. I worry that I’m going to mess it up.’

Neither of you are the type to openly acknowledge such things. Merely the fact that he’s voicing his fears to you shows you he’s doing what he said - he’s trying, he wants to change. And truthfully so do you. 

‘I worried for the longest time that I’d be alone forever,’ you say softly. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who understood me or who could handle all my - well, you know how I am.’ 

Jongdae smiles then, lifting your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to your skin. ‘I love who you are.’ 

Your eyes mist at that and you groan, trying to blink them back. ‘Good, because I love who you are too.’ With your free hand you reach for his, needing to hold both of them and all of him at once. Not wanting to give his overly-analytical mind a chance to override the fragile hope you’re both building tonight. ‘You know what to do when a computer overloads?’

He nods. ‘Of course. Often it’s just a simple matter of turning it off and on again.’

‘So,’ you say, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. ‘When we mess up or freak out or say the wrong thing, we’ll just start over again. As long as you want me and I want you, we’ll figure it out.’ 

Jongdae softens, his shoulders dropping and ease coming back into his eyes. ‘I didn’t know I was lagging until you jump started my life.’ He waggles his brows. It’s a gesture that’s all Baekhyun, and a pun so terrible that Junmyeon would be proud. You can’t help but laugh and squeeze his hands. 

‘I’ve got one more surprise,’ Jongdae says, reluctantly releasing one of your hands to pull two narrow slips of paper from his pocket. ‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’ 

The tickets are in both your names. First class round trip from Seattle to Amsterdam. ‘Oh my - Jongdae, what is this? You and me in Amsterdam?’ 

‘I figured it was about time,’ he says with pride. 

You lean out of your chair and reach for him, tugging him closer to kiss him fully. Noise reaches you - clapping and cheering from the shops around the mall. When you look around you see Sehun and his girlfriend leaning out of Starlight Apparel. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo smiling and fist bumping as they work on closing up the shop. 

Hitch nudges Baekhyun from the theater booth and he jumps in excitement. And from Guardians Junmyeon leans on the counter, resting his chin in his hand, giving a thumbs up. 

You roll your eyes and wave. ‘We maybe should have gone somewhere outside the mall, huh?’

'No, I think this is perfect,’ Jongdae answers. He then covers your mouth with his and holds you so tight that it drowns out the chorus of cheering that echos around the space. 

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

I Gotta Tell Her

Pairing: Fuckboy!Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Words: 2000+

Summary: Ransom tries to make the Reader jelous, but it doesn’t work. But it kinda works in his favor. 

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, soft dom/sub vibes), smoking cigarettes, girl fights

a/n: SMUT!!! 18+!!!! NO MINORS!!! So this is a continuation of Can’t Get You Off My Mind. This is the last part. It was only two parts because I have officially ran out of ideas. So please check out my request prompts and request fics. Please!!!

Part 1

As time went on, she kept ignoring Ransom’s texts, even the apology texts. She was done, no matter how many times she wanted to answer she didn’t. She buried herself in her work, trying to forget him and it worked for a bit. Until one day the texts stopped, and the Instagram posts started. Ransom found himself a new girl. It was photos of him and her on his yacht, in front of the Beemer, up in the mountains, everywhere.

She was jealous of course but why. She left him. He was an asshole but sometimes she would get the soft side of Ransom, and that was the side she loved. She knew though as long as she ignored him, he’ll come crawling back to her. She just had to wait him out. 

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After a few weeks, Ransom realized that she wouldn’t answer his texts. So he decided to be petty and get a new girl. He stopped texting and started posting photos of him and his new girl, Haley. She was the daughter of one of Linda’s blue blood friends. Linda had been trying to get Ransom to date Haley, but he always said no. One; because he didn’t want to be a part of his mother’s tricks, and two; he was seeing someone. 

Even though he was sleeping with Haley, his mind couldn’t help but drift to her. He missed her, not that he’d ever admit it. He only started dating Haley to make her jealous. When he posted the first photo of him and Haley, he expected a bunch of texts and calls from her but after a week nothing. So he left it alone, for almost a day. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, every time he checked his phone he wanted to see a text from her. Telling him to come over to her flat, but that text never came. 

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Four months passed, and the next time the two see each other is at Richard’s birthday party. It was held at the Thromby’s estate. Ransom brought Haley as his plus one, knowing that she would be there. He pulled the Beemer up and saw her white Mustang parked in front of the sidewalk. He parked as Haley finished her obnoxious rant about how her skirt doesn’t match his sweater.

He internally rolled his eyes then got out of the car. He walked over to the other side and opened Haley’s door, she stepped out and linked arms with him. She looked up at the house as they walked up. 

“Oh, Ransom. I forgot how lovely this house is.” Haley gushed, in her high pitch voice and Ransom faked a smile and nodded. 

They walked in and immediately Ransom’s eyes landed on the one woman that had been avoiding him. She was wearing the same dress she wore when she left him. Her hair was long and she had dyed the ends a bright color and it was curled and it flowed over her shoulder. She turned around and spotted Ransom, she gave him a small smile and a wave, before turning around and walking to the bar. He was going to follow her when Linda and Richard walked up. 

“Hello, Ransom. Hello, Haley. I’m so glad you could come.” Linda smiled, and Ransom turned his attention to his mother. 

“Oh, yeah. Happy Birthday, Dad.” Ransom said, and Linda hugged him then Haley. Richard and Ransom shook hands and he hugged Haley. His parents walked away and Haley dragged Ransom to the bar. 

“Hey, Ran. Isn’t that Y/n?” Haley asked, pointing to the woman Ransom was avoiding. She was pouring herself a glass of red wine. Haley walked up to her despite Ransom’s protests. “Hi, Y/n,” Haley greeted, as she approached her. She turned around and looked between Haley and Ransom. 

“Oh, hello, Haley. Ransom.” She nodded and took a sip of her wine. She and Haley kissed each other on the cheek, and she shook hands with Ransom. “It’s so good to see you two.” She smiled. 

“It’s good to see you too,” Haley said.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me.” She said and walked away from them. She walked out to the balcony, leaned on the railing, and looked out at the stars. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her clutch and lit one. She took a puff when she heard the glass doors clicked shut, she knew it was Ransom. Who else would it be? She blew out the smoke into the clear air. “I was wondering if you were going to follow me.” She stated, slightly looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Yeah, and why is that?” Ransom asked as she took another puff of her cigarette. 

“Because I knew you would come crawling back.” She smirked, blowing the smoke out her nose. Ransom rolled his eyes and took her cigarette and took a puff. 

“You’re such a bitch.” He scoffed, she took the cigarette back and turned around. She leaned her back against the railing. 

“Oh, but you love it.” She smiled and winked as she took another drag.

“You do know smoking is bad for you.” He said, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Well, if I die young. I wanna go out with a bang.” She whispered, and took another puff, before bringing Ransom’s face down to her’s. She connected their lips and she kissed him. She blew the smoke into his mouth, he pulled back to quickly blow out the smoke, before kissing her again. She tangled her fingers into his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. They pulled back and a satisfied smirk stayed on both of their faces. He pulled her body against his.

“How about we sneak up to the guest room?” He growled and leaned down to kiss her neck but she placed a finger on his lips. 

“You have to break up with Haley before you can get your dick wet.” She said, taking a step back and putting out her cigarette. 

“Why can’t I just ghost her, then fuck you in the bathroom?” He questioned, placing his hands on her ass. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. 

“I mean it, Hugh.” She said, knowing that if she used his first name he’ll listen to her. 

“Fine,” Ransom sighed, and he walked past her to the doors.

“And don’t be a dick about it.” She ordered as he opened the door. He rolled his eyes and walked into the house. She followed him in, wanting to see this go down. What? She was a sucker for drama. She watched from the bar as Ransom met up with Haley. She watched as Haley’s face morphed from happiness to sadness, and finally anger. She snickered into her wine as Haley slapped Ransom across the face, but that amusement turned to confusion as Haley stormed over to her. Haley came up to her and smacked her across the face. 

“You filthy whore!” Haley exclaimed. 

“What the hell?!” She yelled, setting her wine glass on the bar. 

“You are the reason Ransom dumped me! Just because he’s in love with you!” Haley screamed, and she looks at Haley confused. “You are only using Ransom for his money and the occasional fuck!” Haley screeched, and that was when she lost it. Haley lunged at her grabbing a first full of her hair and pulling her down. She brought her fist back and punched Haley square in the nose. Haley slammed her mouth into the bar, but she flipped Haley over her shoulder. Haley grabbed her dress straps and yanked her down on the floor as well. The clear-cut sound of fabric ripping sounds through the house. She stands up and her dress had been ripped down the front, and her breasts have been fully on display. Haley stood up and smiled thinking that she won, but Haley was sadly mistaken. She grabbed Haley by the back of her head and slammed it into the wooden bar. Haley fell to the floor with a broken nose. 

“I win, you bitch.” She spat and covered her chest with her arms. She walked out of the house and towards her Mustang. She heard Ransom calling her name as she walked. She ignored him and got in her car and slammed the door shut. He knocked on her window she looked over at him and rolled down her window. “What do you want, Ransom?”

“I uh… heard what Haley… told you.” He said, and she sighed and opened the car door. She stepped out to face him, he handed her his jacket so she could cover up. 

“Was it true? Are you in love with me?” She asked, and took a deep intake of breath and avoided her eyes. She took his chin between her fingers so he’ll face her. “Hugh, tell me.” She whispered, and he pulled his face away from her hand.

“Fine! Yes, I’m in love with you!” He exclaimed, and she smirked and cupped his face. 

“I was hoping for that answer.” She smiled, and pulled his face to her’s. She kissed him passionately, he slipped his hands into his coat that is covering her. They pulled back and he looked her in the eyes. 

“You’re such a bitch.” He said, and she pushed him back playfully. 

“Asshole.” She smirked, and pulled the back door of her Mustang open. She slid in and he followed, he closed the door behind him and laid over her. She shoved him on his back and crawled on top of him. “Oh, baby. You didn’t think you’d get to top tonight did you?” She asked cockily, and pulled his coat off of her. 

“I was kinda hoping that you’d take control. I’ve missed it.” He growled, as she kissed down his jaw. She sucked a bruise under his ear. 

“Good.” She purred in his ear, and she pulled his sweater up. She kissed his neck and growled when she smelled Haley’s perfume on her claim. “I can still smell her cheap perfume.” She snarled, and nipped against his collarbone. 

“Then let’s change that.” He said, and flipped them over. He pulled the rest of her ripped dress off so she was left in her lace panties. He licked and nipped at her breasts leaving small hickeys on her chest. He gripped her panties with his hand and ripped them off. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and laid over her and kissed her passionately. He kissed down her body and down to her core, but she pulled him up. 

“As much as I want you to make me cum on your tongue. I want you to fuck me.” She purred, and he smirked and lined his cock to her soaking entrance. He teased his cock up and down her folds. She growled low in her throat and flipped them over and sunk down on his cock. 

“Ah, fuck, Y/n!” He yelled, as her warmth engulfed him. She moaned and rotated her hip as a experimental thrust. He groaned and rutted up into her. He flipped them over so he can watch her face better, as he fucked into her. He pulled out till just the tip was in her then slammed into her. She cried out as her eyes rolled into the back of her. He started fucking into her slow and passionately. He entwined their fingers and held her hands over head. Their foreheads connected and their eyes staring into each other’s. The heat from their bodies fogging the windows up. Their ragged breaths and moans mixing as their highs built. She was first to reach her orgasm, she cried out his name and arched her back. Her walls tightened and pulsed around his length, triggering his high. He buried his face in her neck as he yelled her name. His cum coating her inner walls, he slumped on her as they regained their breathing. He pulled up and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. They pulled back but their foreheads connecting. 

“I love you, you asshole.” She whispered, and he chuckled. 

“I love you too, you bitch.” He said, and kissed her again. The couple knew that they wouldn’t want to let go of each other. He finally got to tell her.

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~Taglist~ (if your username is crossed out it means I could not tag you. Please check your privacy settings)

@randomuser0917

[anonil88]

EUPHORIA S2 EP LIVE REACT

*warning there will be spoilers*

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I love fezcos grandma. I love fezco and baby Ash. Aw my babies are so cute.

Come thru soundtrack also this is already very different than season 1 in terms of its more grounded.

Everyone i know whose grown up this way has amazing life skills but it isn't healthy in the end. It ends up messing them up a lot and honestly he could have called the cops and been like my grandma passed out outside.

His grandma would have tripped that fucker down the stairs.

God dammit Ash. He should not have killed mouse sigh but also it was justified.

At least Rue is a complete vibe. Ew not the Tapout shirt eww, ayy new girl.

Rue said girl im just tryna snort drugs I'm not tryna inject this shit. That girl bout dumb as shit, exactly now you look stupid as hell and are caught the hell up.

Oh wow they got a Fezco type of Grandma on their end too.

The way drug dealers will let you just put back on your clothes after they check or they spray ya ass with water. Just take the damn clothes off yall taking all this damn time.

Rue is really out here like I had the best time of my life girl that was not a woo-hoo moment but she copes with trauma with humor.

Nate you piece of literal shit, I swear this boy is 🤢🤢.

I love the use of film cameras so far and the texture it gives to everything.

I know these two are gonna fuck but how stupid are they. Maddy is gonna beat her ass and I mean straight up knock the dog shit out of her one day.

I really don't want these two to date cause he's an adult and she's a minor.

Rue is making me yell out loud "I hate gay people" just go the fuck inside and tell her you like her. But nah let's shoot up heroin for the first time. It will give her confidence but she really doesn't need another fix.

Everytime Jules sees Nate she wants to get blackout drunk. Ughhhhh.

These two bouta become addict bestfriends, thats gonna end awful.

Karma is a bitch and Cassie deserves every bit of it. Maddy deserves every bit of revenge tbh.

At least Rue knows what to take to do push off certain side effects but this is so fucked up to do to Elliot. He can be hugh but he's not signing up to be a harm reductionist and her depressed ass is very nihilist.

Aw Fezco the Christian thug, I kill people and sell drugs in the name of the lordt.

Where is Jules going? Ah yo go talk to Kat.

Maddy and Travis look hella cute. Ooo I like these two together.

Cassie got lucky as all hell and now her ass is stumbling all over the place looking dumb as fuck. "I did everything I could." Nah you havent you just fucked over your "bestfriend" tbh both of yall did.

Hey hey Ethan get you ya lil girlfriend ayyy. Ah Jules got left to the side and is gonna stumble on her own honey and it could go awfully.

Sigh here we go again these two on the couch like this is some k.i.s.s.i.n.g, he's an adult bruh noooo i really hate this Fez and Lexi thing.

BE SINGLE CASSIE BE SINGLE omfg girl. This secret is gonna eat her up on the inside entirely though for a long while until it finally comes out.

Rue is high as a fucking kite but she also may be pissed off.

Nate is gross as hell just nasty and is being all possessive and shit. This is weird and oddly homoerotic this encounter with McKay like um bro chill. Nate back the hell up you only had sex with his ex once and now you acting like an entire feral dog peeing on your territory. Weird ass.

How is she doing? Uh not well. Be honest Rue it's what yall both deserve. I'd rather know my person is on drugs again than them hide it. Jules has to understand it isn't her fault though that Rue relapsed.

Shes 17 bro.

Fezco look good as hell getting ready to fight and I hope he beats the fuck out of Nates chiseled ass face. This is very calculated though.

Rue take ya ass inside and get a new years kiss. Jules is heartbroken as hell and you need to talk.

Aw yay at least my babies get one happy moment. They are girlfriends or dating yayy, I just wanted one of these happy moments

Where is fez with the bottle, please beat his smug ass. Yesss yesss beat his bitch ass. This is so satisfying.

What a good season 2 premiere i like how this is different from season 1 but similar. My friends theory is Nate is going to kill Cal or vice versa based on what he sees in the hospital. I could see it. Only thing that could have made that better is for Jules, Rue, and everyone else to get a kick in or beat his ass along with Fez.

[samanthadalton]

Hi, it's me again ina fan🤭 what do you think about mc trying on ina's glasses and pretending to be her/teacher in front of the mirror? And then the situation turned to funny/steamy atmosphere? You previous fanfic was amazing 💖💖 thank you ❣️

hi anon im so sorry it took a while to write but i did it hope you enjoy 

The imitation game

When Ina called you to come to her office on a saturday afternoon you weren’t expecting her to give you an entire load of papers to grade alongside her. When you knocked on her office door, she looked up at you, her expression exasperated as she sat at her desk with a huge stack of papers and books scattered all over it. She took off her glasses and ran a hand down her face, ‘Bea, I’m glad you’re here’ she gestured at the mess in front her, ‘I know you probably don’t want to spend your afternoon grading papers but I’m practically swimming in these deadlines’ her voice sounding fatigued. It kinda looked like she barely got any sleep the night before and knowing Ina and her work ethic? It isn’t surprising if she didn’t get any sleep at all last night. 

You walk into the office and take a seat opposite Ina’s desk with your hand out, ‘give me a red pen and the papers I have to grade’, you know better than to retort with anything smart since Ina looks like she could use a helping hand and you are her TA afterall. Ina passes the papers over to you with a grateful smile and just as your fingers brush together she quickly pulls away and turns her attention to her computer screen, guess she was serious about the whole needing help after all.  

……

A couple of hours go by and after marking about a billion papers, you feel your hand is about to fall off because it hurts so much so you decide to stretch your legs and walk around the office. You move behind the desk and check out Ina’s bookshelf but Ina’s attention is fixated on her computer screen that she hasn’t even realised that you’re next to her arm out with a glass of bourbon taken from her secret stash hidden in the globe which you still think is super cool. 

‘Ahem, Ina’ you lightly tap her shoulder and she almost jumps out of her seat, startled by your touch. You clutch the glasses in your hands a little tighter and Ina settles back down in her seat, her face flushing slightly red, whether it was from the embarrassment or your sudden touch, you’re unsure. 

‘Oh thank you Bea’ she plucks one of the glasses from your hand and takes a huge gulp being heavily sighing and taking her glasses off and putting them on the desk and starts to rub at her eyes. 

You frown slightly at Ina, she looks like crap and honestly? The atmosphere in this room is just so downcast and negative, so in that moment you look at Ina’s glasses sitting on the desk and you get an idea to alleviate some of the bad vibes. 

While Ina nurses her fatigue with her drink you swipe the glasses off her desk and put them on, ‘holy shit Ina, you’re literally blind’ you hold the lenses of the glasses while exaggeratingly blinking. 

Ina looks up at you confused, ‘Bea they’re just reading glasses’ 

‘Yeah I know but I’ve always wanted to say that to someone’ 

Ina stares at you for a few seconds before chuckling, ‘you’re really something else Bea’ 

You look at Ina, mimicking her usual stance with your posture straight and a finger on the edge of the lense of the glasses and reply, ‘you’re really something else Bea’

‘Are you mimicking me Bea?’ 

‘Are you mimicking me Bea?’ you make sure to enunciate every word in the same way Ina does, while overemphasising your new york accent. 

Ina lets out a small laugh, ‘okay funs over let’s get back to work’ 

‘Oh come on professor’ you lean down so you’re leveled with Ina, ‘aren’t you at least the tiniest bit curious of how I see you?’ 

Ina raises a eyebrow, you can see the hint of a small smile gracing her features as she contemplates your inquiry before sighing and says ‘indulge me Miss Hughes’ 

You give a small cheer and move to the opposite side of the desk and begin to imitate the way Ina stands once again, making sure to stand as straight as you can, you raise your chin a little before clapping your hands together, ‘Bea I need you to grade these papers, my publisher is on my ass about these deadlines’. You look over at Ina who looks amused but she doesn’t say anything as she awaits for what you say next. 

‘Anthropology isn’t just about research. It’s about our lives’ you squint your eyes a little, deepening your voice and begin walking across the room and back pretending you’re talking to an entire classroom. ‘Anthropology is all about seeing what makes us human, we study human beings and analyse our very existence. Blah blah blah anthro blah blah blah society’ 

Ina’s practically gleaming as the corners of her eyes are creased almost like she’s holding back a laugh but also because your impression of her is pretty much spot on, ‘So is that how I sound in class, you’re making me sound like some kind of bore.’ 

You beam at her, ‘pretty much, but in my defense I’m not really focused on the teaching most of the time’ 

Ina raises an eyebrow bemused, ‘oh? So what do you focus on?’ her tone coming off as extremely playful

‘I only have eyes for you professor’ you batter your eyelashes flirtatiously at her as she gets out of her seat and stands right in front of you. You cup her face and bring her face to yours, kissing her slowly, letting your tongues tangle up together until Ina softly moans and grabs your hips and kisses you passionately. Your tongues move in tandem as her tongue caresses yours, and you stay locked in your embrace for a couple of minutes until Ina pulls away. 

‘I never did say how sexy you look in glasses’ she moves her hands to your face and lightly touches the frames of the glasses looking at you admirably and you can’t help but blush. 

‘Well I can’t really see myself that clearly but I bet I do’ you take off the glasses and blink profusely and Ina chuckles and moves to kiss you again and you drop her glasses on the floor to reciprocate the kiss. 

Ina grabs your hips and starts guiding you towards the desk until a loud crunching sound breaks you out of the kiss. You look down to see Ina’s glasses under your shoe and you gape your mouth wide open while Ina lifts a hand to her mouth trying to hide a laugh. 

‘Ina, I-, I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for that’ you bend down to pick up the glasses in which the frames snapped and the glass is slightly cracked. 

‘Well I guess we’re done for the day since I need my glasses to read’ your face flushes red with embarrassment but Ina places a sweet chaste kiss on your lips, ‘I’m just joking Bea but if you want you can go home now, I’m sure you want to enjoy the rest of your saturday’ 

You push Ina against her desk, ‘well I wanna stay here with you’ and you and Ina enjoy the rest of the evening in each other’s embrace.

[fletchphoenix]

I’ll See You When I Fall Asleep

Hi All! This is Chapter 10 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! Also!! A lot of you have asked and yes, I do have an Ao3 where I cross-post called ‘fletchphoenix’ too! Anyway, thank you for all your support and onwards with the chapter!!

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

Thunder rumbled and lightning crackled outside the window as Varian shook, holding a small test tube in his hands. Where even was he? His eyes weren’t adjusting properly, until the sudden flick of a lightswitch brought about a blinding light. Varian attempted to cover his eyes to block it out, his attempts not working in the slightest. He lowered his arms with a frown and glanced around the room as he regained his vision slowly. Nothing seemed right here - a fantastical vibe surrounded the whole room as he took in all the small details.

    The room was dank, the aroma of rotting wood filling the room which, coinciding with the light, made for an awful pairing that made Varian queasy. Uneven, cobbled floor made his feet slip slightly and he struggled to keep his balance as he felt himself feeling sicker and sicker. There was almost no natural light in the room either - only one half-oval window that sat above a creaky table, covered in journals and various scientific apparatus that he had used many times. A raccoon sat on the table too, snoring with a large sheet of paper lying underneath it. The cause of the bright lights were around six lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and now that his eyes had time to brace themselves, he could see it really wasn’t that bright, with an eerie mood being set in the room. Paper and chalk also littered the wall with frantic scribbles about something he didn’t understand. The sundrop…? He didn’t know. The thing that put him off..were the rocks.

  Black rocks shot out of the ground in clumps of two or three, reaching so high they almost pierced the rotting ceiling of the makeshift laboratory. He reached out and rapped his fist against the rock quietly - it seemingly was not breaking. Huh, invincible black rocks? Makeshift labs in an ancient house? It was strange how much they put him off, unease building in his stomach for some reason unbeknownst to him. His eyes set on a large figure in the middle of the room, covered by a towering sheet with small patches of different fabric scattered over the sheet. The stitching looked poor though, as though someone who’d never sewn before had done it. Come to think of it, his clothes were the same, a cyan shirt with a patch on the left arm that was significantly darker than the rest of the fabric. The shirt, however, was almost completely covered by a leather apron, also swamping the brown trousers that he was wearing, stopping shy from the top of his boots. It didn’t seem right for him to be wearing this. A frown crept onto his face as he rested his hands on the sheet, taking in a deep breath before pulling it away and revealing the thing it was concealing. A gasp left his mouth and he doubled over, taking in sharp breaths as the tears instantly built in his eyes. His head shot back up to stare at the sight in front of him.

  A hard, amber substance twisted in harsh turns, sharp spikes of it trailing high and curling at points. His boyfriend was trapped in the amber, his hand outstretched with a note in his hand, a clear expression of pain on his face forever. Tears welled in his eyes and rolled freely down his cheek, his shaky steps inching closer to the amber and his hands resting on it. “Hugo?” he whispered, unsure of whether his father could even hear him from his crystallised prison. 

  “Varian, what have you done?” Varian’s head snapped around to see Rapunzel, hands raised to cover her mouth in shock of the scene unfolding in front of her. She looked so frightened - but not of the amber, of him. She looked different too - blonde locks that must’ve measured over sixty feet were tied back into a mix between a ponytail and a braid replaced her brunette bob. She also wore a purple dress, akin to one an elegant princess would wear. He opened his mouth to say something, before being rudely interrupted.

  “This is all your fault.” Another voice. Eugene’s. He slowly moved from the darkness and placed his hands on Rapunzel’s shoulder, her turning back to wrap her arms round him in a fearful embrace. He glared coldly at Varian, as if he’d done something wrong. 

  More and more voices joined the symphony of blaming Varian, each declaration cutting deeper and deeper each time. He covered his ears, a futile attempt to try and block all of the noise out but it only got louder and louder. People he loved were calling him a monster. All except for..

  “Hugo! Hugo, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, forcing himself to raise his head and eyes darting around the room and staring at the prison of the boy he loved so dearly that he’d created. He couldn’t bear to look at his frozen corpse, too many people crowding and screaming at him about his faults. It was all becoming too much. The yelling, the closeness..he couldn’t handle it. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, moving closer and closer towards the floor. “Hugo!” 

  “HUGO! He yelled and sat up, grasping the bedsheets and letting out heavy, shaky breaths, startling the safe, sleeping form of his boyfriend beside him. His knees curled against his chest, trying to steady his breathing to no avail as his small form shook with every sob that left his mouth. Sweat formed a gross blanket over his skin, presumably from his body reacting to the panic he was feeling. What even was that place? Why did everyone look so different? Why wasn’t Hugo there? The questions flooding his head only caused more stress to take its toll on his body as his breathing quickened once again. 

  “Varian.” His boyfriend’s voice called from beside him, “Hey, can I touch you? Is that okay?” he questioned, Varian giving a small nod before Hugo’s hands rubbed soothing circles onto his back carefully in an attempt to help comfort him until he was ready to talk. Still shaking, Varian leaned in closer to his boyfriend, comfortably moving so they were laying down in a gentle embrace, swaying slightly as Hugo whispered sweet nothings to his boyfriend and placing kisses to the top of his head. “Hey, whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I’m here now and you’re safe. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  As he felt more comfortable and safe, he looked at Hugo’s face. Concern covered it - his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he held Varian’s hands in his own, peppering kisses over them. “I..woke up in a lab. I didn’t recognise it. It was covered with all there..black rocks that stuck out of the ground. And there was amber in the middle. You were stuck inside. Everyone was yelling at me and saying it was all my fault. It was terrifying, Hugo. I couldn’t breathe. I just..” his arms tightened around the blonde, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I was so scared that I’d hurt you. That I’d actually lost you..I don’t want to lose you, Hugh. I love you too much.” he whispered against his boyfriend’s shoulder, the muscles underneath his shirt tensing tremendously in reaction to his words. 

  Hugo sat in silence, holding the boy closer to him and staring blankly at the wall. How..how could he respond to that? Amber..? Black rocks? He let out an exasperated sigh as he pet the hair of the younger boy. He’d never seen his boyfriend so distraught over a nightmare, the other gripping his shirt as they embraced. He reached for his glasses, putting them on before picking up his phone to check the time. 3:54am. Well, they weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon anyway, he decided before shuffling back in the embrace, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “How about we put on one of those crappy romance films you love so much and make some hot cocoa? How does that sound, sweetheart?” The sight of Varian’s slight smile and a nod was all the confirmation he needed. “Okay love, you go make the cocoa and I’ll sort out the snacks. After all, you are the cocoa master.” He added with a chuckle before swinging his legs over the bed, pushing the fuzzy slippers Varian had randomly bought him one day onto his feet and striding down the hall to the living room.

  He set up a mini bed for them on the sofa, bringing over a blanket and pillows for the both of them. He knew Varian’s would go unused though, the younger would most likely opt to lay on top of him with his head on his chest, not that he was complaining. More pillows for him, he thought with a grin as he walked into the adjacent room to get some snacks. Passing his boyfriend, he decided on a wide variety, including candy, chocolate and some ice cream in case that’s what Varian decided to opt for. He glanced over at his boyfriend, whose attention was solely focused on making the perfect beverage for both of them. A lovestruck smile drifted onto his face as he strutted over, placing an unexpected kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, throwing off his concentration for a split second. “Smells wonderful babe, keep up the immaculate work and maybe I’ll teach you the art of making the perfect vanilla latte. Who knows?” Varian chuckled, Hugo silently praising himself for making the boy smile at least a little bit before heading into the living room, an abundance of snacks in his arms.

  Carefully he set them out on the table, being sure to empty out a packet of cat food for Ruddiger into his ceramic bowl, the cat graciously jumping from his perch on the cat tower and beginning his meal. Hugo rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips at his peace offering being accepted so willingly by his arch-nemesis. Hopefully now the cat would let him spend some time alone with his boyfriend, letting them cuddle on the sofa and watch one of Varian’s….admittedly terrible romance films free from any intrusion from the attention whore. 

  He understood the cat’s worry though - according to Varian, he’d taken him in when he was a kitten and extremely malnourished, taking care of him. From then on, Ruddiger had been extremely loyal to Varian, never straying from his human’s side (because let's be real, Ruddiger owned Varian, not the other way around. That cat had almost everyone wrapped around it’s metaphorical finger and it knew that...terrifyingly well) even when he’d executed some very much illegal acts in the name of helping his father. 

  Hugo didn’t blame Varian for his past, loving the boy either way. His dedication was difficult for the other to understand. He’d never really learnt to form any bonds with...well, anyone. Having no parents and growing up in an orphanage that couldn’t have cared less about any of the kids there didn’t help either, even after Donella ‘adopted’ him, it still didn’t do anything. Varian was the only person he’d ever really had an official relationship with, the rest just being out of boredom and the complete and utter loneliness he’d felt because of the distance Donella had put between him and her. He never really had anyone there for him, so he’d just keep on using people for his own personal means and throwing them away without so much of a glance back with no remorse when he was finally done with them. He knew it was wrong - that he was hurting people who didn’t warrant it - but he just didn’t care at all at the time, because he knew he’d never see them again. Right? He guessed that was it - devotion never coming easy to him anyway, so of course it would be a difficult concept for him to grasp anyway. He let out a sigh and laid down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over himself quietly before scrolling through his phone and waiting for his boyfriend to join him.

  “Heya Hugh.” Varian called as he entered the living room, setting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of them beside the snacks before shuffling under the covers, sitting in between his boyfriend’s legs with his back pressed against his chest. Hugo reached out to grab their mugs and sipped the hot cocoa, making a slight moan of satisfaction. “Oh my god, this is so good, Varian!” he cried as he kept chugging the delicious drink, an arm wrapping around his waist, giving his boyfriend time to push it away if he wanted. Varian didn’t seem to mind, already turning on the film and beginning to eat his ice cream happily. 

  They sat in silence for a while, Varian watching his film and Hugo drifting in and out of sleep repeatedly. The only thing keeping him awake was the occasional sound of his boyfriend’s laughter or mumbling to himself at how ridiculous a certain character was being. It was kind of adorable listening to the younger man rant under his breath about something completely fictitious. He kept his gaze on Varian happily before a frown developed on his face. That dream Varian had sounded terrifying, if he was being honest, and it scared him to death. Just how much self loathing was the boy harbouring without even speaking up? Sure, he’d done some bad things in the past, but everyone had forgiven him for that, so why couldn’t Varian forgive himself? It weighed on Hugo’s mind, his nimble fingers tracing small circles onto the other’s stomach gently to keep himself grounded. 

  “You’re thinking so hard, I can almost hear the cogs in your head turning.” Varian commented, not even looking at his boyfriend as he kept his eyes focused on the TV. “If you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking about, I’m fine. It was just a dumb nightmare that really spooked me at first. I was so scared of the concept that I’d lost you for good that I couldn’t breathe or even focus. I didn’t even know what I’d done or if I’d even done anything, I’d just accepted that yes, it WAS all my fault. What I did in the past was...well, it was atrocious in all honesty..but that doesn’t reflect who I am at all. You know who I am. I was just so lost without my father, and I couldn’t turn to my mother...I felt like everyone had turned their back on me and that I wasn’t even deserving of the very air I breathed. It’s gonna take me awhile to forgive myself for what I did to Rapunzel and Eugene and, well, everyone. But I’ll get there. Okay?”

  Hugo’s fingers braided a section of Varian’s hair as he spoke, taking in every word he spoke and giving it time to process, admiring his work mid-speech. “Okay doll, I just don’t want you thinking I’m gonna just..up and leave one day, y’know? You know about my old reputation in senior year..how I’d date around and leave a trail of broken hearts behind me but..I just want you to know I’m serious when I say I’m fully committed to you, okay? I adore you for all I’m worth. I’ve never met a guy as spectacular as you are, but I would never ask for anyone different. Varian, I really do love you.” Hugo confessed, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to his chest and shutting his eyes. “More than you’ll ever know. You’ve taught me...so so much about unconditional love and what it takes to be so in love you’d do anything for them so...thank you. Just- thank you.”

  “Aw, Hugo being sappy? Are you the real Hugo or are you an imposter?” Varian said with a grin and a laugh, leaning his head back before closing his eyes. “Let’s just watch the movie, babe...okay? I love you too, for the record.” he whispered back, intertwining their fingers. And thus, the boys slowly drifted into a deep slumber, wrapped in each other’s arms and ready to face whatever the universe threw at them.

Well, almost anything the universe threw at them.

  They awoke, limbs tangled, on the couch to a loud banging at the door. Hugo groaned, rubbing his eyes as he slowly started to sit up, Varian stirring too on his chest. “Who the fuck is here and why the hell are they banging the door so goddamn loud?!” he exclaimed, Varian removing himself from his boyfriend’s lap and heading towards the door. Hugo didn’t understand. Does no one in this modern age have any respect for anyone? All he wanted to do was cuddle his boyfriend on the couch all morning before the inevitable angry texts from Donella swarmed his phone.

  Oh shit. What if it was Donella at the door? Oh god. He’d ever introduced Varian to his side of the family (and quite frankly, he didn’t want to, considering how...dysfunctional it was. It wasn’t even officially a family unit, Donella only being a mother figure) and he didn’t want Varian to meet her when she was mad. Donella had a supernatural strength when she was mad - not even kidding, he’d seen her make one of the strongest men in the workshop, a man who had LITERALLY been nicknamed ‘Skullcrusher’ when he was in a gang for...obvious reasons, cry like a baby on the floor. It was a feat in its own right, however he didn’t want Varian to suffer through that same treatment. He hurried into the hall. “Hey Goggles?-” He froze.

  There was a woman at the door. Her ginger hair was tied into a neat bun, fringe falling and stopping just above her right eyebrow. She had the same eyes as Varian, except a slightly more vibrant, electric blue than his beloved’s,  along with freckles scattered all over her face, hands and what was visible of her arms. She was slightly taller than his boyfriend, still smaller than him, but nonetheless she still possessed some height over Varian. She looked exactly like the woman in Donella’s pictures, the one who used to be her old research partner...though who was she?

  He walked over and rested his hand on Varian’s back, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked astonished and shocked - his mouth and eyes wide in amazement as he spared no mind to Hugo, solely focused on the woman in front of him. His hands shook slightly as he pulled them to his sides. “Mom..?” Varian hardly whispered, taking a step towards the woman, who reached her hand out to cup his cheek gently.

  “Varian-” She called out, a soft smile on her face and tears building in her eyes as she took him into a hug. Oh, yeah. Now Hugo could place the name, his eyes narrowing in disdain towards the woman before him. She was the one who had stopped Donella’s progress in the scientific field, stealing her research and disappearing to the other ends of the earth. She was the one who had ruined her life, and consequently, his too. Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly, extending her hand out to him. “Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself, I’m Ulla. Ulla Ruddiger.” 

  His boyfriend’s mother was his motherly figure’s worst enemy.

  Brilliant.

[splendidshinobi]

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST 2003 LIVE REACT: EPISODES 16-20

well we're back after a short break from last episode's explosive discoveries

episode 16: that which is lost

lust plz fuery has never spoken to a hottie before

you know what i need an alcohol

pause

ok im back

roy r u a masochist

bradley youre lying about marcoh

wait...why does bradley think the philosophers stone doesnt exist?? um

omg why is team mustang running their mouths rn

edward that was SNAPPPPPPPPPPYY

mustang please shut up

armstrong is top tier

always has been

alphonse is as precious as ever i see

yes tell him edward cause 2003 roy mustang cut off my big toe

nina flashbacks ope

scar be holding kids hostage now? aight....

damn marcoh whad did u do!!!!!! homie stabbed lust

it wont work but im proud of the effort!!!

alphonse is lost???? not my son!!!!

a farm boy hello farm boy

drawing passed down the armstrong line for generations

oooooh ed droppin the ishval bomb

GIRLY JUST STOLE HIS LEG???? MAAm

how did he not feel the nerves coming apart from his body

also girl that wont work for your dad hes probably 85 times taller than ed

al getting deep with farm boy

ALPHONSE

ED HOW DID YOU REATTACH THAT LEG YOURSELF

whats going on here anyway

just to talk about ptsd and stuff ig??

why does ed just tell anyone now that al lost his body sir keep it to yourself

HAHAHAHA "YES????"

i love them

episode 17: house of the waiting family

"no family waiting" edward...pinako and winry are rolling over in their graves

awww light purple worksuit love the look win!!!

proud of u for growing ed

ed your heart eyes are showing

this episode is so far like the same as fmab 6 so i feel like theres not much to say

oh a weird cow and a girl

nelly or whoever has a big ASS FOREHEAD

oh the beginnings of al's identity crisis i see

hahaha armstrong

AL OF COURSE YOU HAD FRIENDS BABYDOLL

where did armstrong come from

sry i stopped paying attention for a sec

SEE THIS IS WHY I WAS LIKE HOW TF DID ED CONNECT HIS LEG HIMSELF LAST EP

ed and winry are god tier ship no matter the medium

major spaz

oh winry is gonna open that watch

i guess they dont need to go to freaking rush valley and have paninya steal it if they already did the birth arc with gracia instead ugh

ed were you showering in your boxers

my son is so stupid

GO OOOOOOFFFFFFFF WINRY ROCKBELL!!!!!!!!

awwww theyre at the house

omg winry's got the light they were talking about

she loves them so much

dont forget 3 oct 10?????? nah 11 homie

anywayyyyy

episode 18: marcoh's notes

before we start ROSS AND BROSH MAYBE PLEASE???? wouldnt put it past them to take them out

huh???? lust looks like who now

side note my sister, who is watching brotherhood for the first time, had the idea to make gluttony shaped stress balls like HOW CUTE????

anyways

edward is an absolute nerd

"not as if the library is going anywhere" sure sure dont jinx it armstrong

OMG ROSS AND BROSHHHHHHH

HEART EYES

hahahaha edward on the floor

"I THOUGHT YOU'D BE FULLER AND MORE METAL" BROSH PLEASE!!!!!!

oops bye bye library

guess we're off to see sheska again

sheska is definitely a lesbian

i mean shes like amestrian velma dinkley

sir r u really gonna transmute the ashes

i-jesus

i mean i think of this everytime i see sheska i think about how crazy having a photographic memory would be but how crazy would having a photographic memory be

s2g hughes' eyes are literally like highlighter green

why is alphonse such an angel!!!!!!!

whenever hughes goes off by himself i get nervous because 03 can do anything...like expect the unexpected when it comes to 03 honestly

so um is lust....scar's brother's gf or something?

oh i forgot i was reacting and now the episode is over hahaha okay

episode 19: the truth behind truths

the kids have it ROUGH

maria ross mom friend vibes rn

oh my god edward

the tea cup...al's face...my kids

03 ed is so depressed my god

both ed and al need a hug

ooooofffff 5th lab

i guess we're gonna see barry again since they decided to introduce alive human barry for shits and giggles

the boys are gonna SHIT. THEIR. PANTS. when homie shows up

hold on

aRE THEY SAYING BLOCK???

yEAH

I googled it and Brosh is also pronounced as "Bloch" which i guess makes sense

so thrown off but im dumb as heell so

hahahaha with the barbed wire 

hi scar ya too late pal

kinda vibin with these background tunes

spoopy

ummm scar what r u DOIN

what the f alchemy is that

oh great scar is going to the 5th ig

envy i missed u!!!

oh imitating my son? rude

“the guards are idiots” well here we go slicer bros and barry

to be honest if i ran into a booby trap smorgasbord in  real life i would Die

there they are the armored palz

THE BOULDER AND HE’s SMALL

HAHAHAHA

um was that

greed? lying down in a purplish aura thingy?

um sir?

*rewinds 10 seconds to check*

yeah

number 48 is kinda snatched though???

gasp! a blood seal!! what who knew!!

episode 20: soul of the guardian

im just impatiently waiting for the barry reveal at this point

but ed and 48 are just doing their thing ya know

for an episode with two fights, they sure do a looooottttt of talking 

yessssss here we go barry the chopper

ok i do prefer this in manga/fmab canon though

cause its so funny when barry is offended that al had never heard of him and he thinks he this prolific serial killer and al is like

well um im from the country sooo 

but anyways yeah i totally forgot he kidnapped winry in this what an odd choice fr

AL’S FACE HHAHAHA

“no im not a crook” of course not alphonse

tbt to my first time watching fmab and being like “...kyo????” as soon as barry started talking

here comes lil slicer

there he is!!! bros just being bros

i TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT SCAR JESUS CHRIST

um where’d he go he was just here

seriously where tf did he go

gonna have to rewind in a second but maybe im just stupid

actually i am stupid thats a well established point

oh here we go al’s full fledged identity crisis subplot 

oh baby

ok now that ive got to the end lemme rewind and see if i actually saw scar or if i blacked out for a hot sec

OHHHHHHH HE WAS PICTURING SCAR’S DESTRUCTION STRATEGY it was a lil baby flashback

yeah i truly am dumb

we’ve known for awhile now

[hellyeahomeland]

“Fucker Shot Me” | Directed by Lesli Linka Glatter, Cinematography by David Klein

Sara: I truly stan G’ulom and his collection of capes. He is the villain in the shadows we need! 

Gail: G’ulom’s character arc has really come a long way since Carrie blackmailed him back in episode two. Feels like a year ago.

Sara: Mike is highly annoying. He is so annoying I’m starting to feel sorry that he keeps asking Jenna to do things. Why did he have Jenna tell Saul what happened? Why did they wait until the next day? Why couldn’t he have done all this himself or at least delegated? What I’m saying is Mike is a drama queen. 

Gail: It’s interesting that you see Mike as an antagonist to Carrie when he is literally doing the right thing by reporting her. Carrie’s lucky he only went to Saul at first. It gave her the opportunity to get a head start on her mission to find Max. This small meeting of the minds in the middle of a bustling CIA station says a lot too: all of her secrets are about to be laid bare.

Gail: This surveillance shot was when I realized that Yevgeny is intentionally feeding into the suspicions around her. His government must know and approve of what he is up to. He might have some affinity for her, but he is definitely on his own mission here.

Sara: Couple’s first photo together.

Sara: Truly the road trip of my dreams! On a more analytical note, almost all the camerawork in these scenes is done outside the car, looking in, with the barrier of the windows between us. This is continuing a motif from earlier episodes that saw Carrie often shot from behind the car window, trapped on the inside. And now she’s “trapped” with Yevgeny. 

Gail: I love how the camera shots in this scene give us a feeling of eavesdropping on them. Makes me wonder who else is listening?

Sara: I really loved this shot, with the reflection of the countryside visible. The scenery and remoteness of it all (uh… not to mention them literally being on the run together) really reminded me of Carrie and Brody in “The Star.” 

Gail: Yes--and she’s not the one driving this time. Yevgeny is literally and figuratively in the driver’s seat.

Gail: I love that we are getting Carrie’s perspective here. We can’t see or hear what Yevgeny is saying. We are as in the dark as Carrie is when it comes to his true motivations.

Sara: Yevgeny shot from behind again. This continues another motif of Carrie watching him walk away (repeated in the first three episodes of the season), his back turned to her. 

Sara: Before I caught on to what was happening, I saw the light blue burqa and thought something was super fishy. This is the same color burqa that Samira Noori had. There was also a woman wearing a blue burqa walking by Haqqani at the end of last week’s episode when Carrie spots him outside the embassy. I feel like this is super ominous and must be intentional…. Right?

Gail: I noticed that too! I love how colorful the market is here too, it reminded me of the donkeys heading up the mountain in the last episode.

Gail: IJLTP.

Sara: Gotta have that parallel! This must be intentional. The positioning of the camera and choreography here is identical to the pilot.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: Even in a crowd of people, Carrie is always alone.

Gail: Such a contrast to the colorful market and busy streets nearby.

Sara: This is a really stunning shot and you can feel the emotional weight of these rows and rows of tombstones--all of which Carrie is responsible for.

Sara: I noted this in TCWTW, but they’ve dressed Carrie and Yevgeny similarly here. Notably they’re both in jackets with pockets on both breasts. Also notably, Carrie’s ensemble is in shades of grey, while Yevgeny’s is darker. Also also notably: height difference.

Gail: His constant and consistent nonchalance is such a vibe.

Gail: We are on the outside looking in at their relationship again. So much we don’t know about it, and by “we,” I mean the audience and Carrie.

Sara: This is a cute bookend shot to the final scene of last week’s episode where Yevgeny is staring at Carrie, who stares straight ahead.

Sara: The Jesus light shines on Max! 

Gail: Max’s living conditions keep going from bad to worse.

Sara: What the actual hell was this? The speed with which Yevgeny prevented a total and full-blown Carrie freakout was certainly admirable and positively weird as hell. 

Gail: Yevgeny sure knew how to calm her down quickly: bends down to eye level, holds her forcefully in place, and even does the sympathetic head tilt. He knows way more about her than “we” can imagine.

Sara: I just picked this shot because was anyone else surprised that Linus is still the Chief of Staff? I thought for sure he would have been transferred to an ~advisory~ role when Keane left but both Beau and now Hayes are keeping him? Let’s all admit that Linus is really the cockroach that creepy doctor in Caracas said Brody was. 

Gail: I loved the scale of the empty airplane hanger against the optics Hayes is trying to convey. Empty attempt with an even emptier coffin.

Sara: Don’t sleep on Tasneem! She’s always lurking around every corner and that is why we continue to stan. Also shout out to blog member Angela who remarked on the way they dressed Tasneem in virginal white a few episodes ago, and now this Madonna-esque blue. What does it mean?

Gail: Now Tasneem is looking over her shoulder too.

Gail: The distance between Saul and Bunny/Tasneem speaks volumes.

Sara: The choreography in this scene is really something. I mean… LOL. Could they hate Saul anymore?

Gail: Even though Mike has reported Carrie to the FBI, he still takes her call in private. Interesting.

Sara: Why does Mike have encyclopedias in his sad office?

Sara: This is such a great shot. G’ulom looming in the background, out of focus but still totally in control. Everyone gets an over-the-shoulder shot this year. 

Gail: G’ulom in a tie < G’ulom in a cape.

Sara: Yevgeny took the night shift and let Carrie sleep in the back of his car. I repeat: CARRIE SLEPT IN THE BACK OF HIS CAR. I can’t with them. 

Gail: I didn’t think she was sleeping, Carrie doesn’t sleep! I thought she was laying low since she’s a fugitive now and was hiding from the drone(s) that she was hoping the CIA would send to check for Max. Ugh, poor Max!

Sara: Dammit, Gail! You’re probably right.... but a full night has passed so she had to have slept, for at least 15 minutes, in his car. Let me have 15 minutes!

Sara: First, I think this shot is totally gorgeous (Jesus light shines on Max again!). Second, I’m not getting too freaked out because remember how totally dumb Jalal is? We don’t have much to worry about, folks. 

Gail: Such a gorgeous shot, I agree. Another empty space that illustrates just how alone Max is.

 Gail: Another parallel to the end of season three: Carrie calling for an extraction team that isn’t coming.

Sara: And this shot, too. Damn… this episode was visually quite gorgeous, if substance-wise quite dull.

Sara: Total Brody vibes with the cage and also Haqqani’s general air of acceptance here. They wanted us to feel bad for Brody at the end too! Later, again like Brody, Haqqani is surrounded by a crowd of raucous people who want him dead when he’s sentenced to his fate. Although this specific shot with the cell in the center of the courtroom reminded me a lot of those scenes with Hugh Dancy in Hannibal (can’t find a pic, you’re just gonna have to trust me!).

Gail: I agree and really loved this scene.

Sara: I love shot because of how small Saul looks. I don’t mean this in a shady way! It really puts into perspective (literally) how futile his attempts are to save Haqqani and secure the peace deal (again). Saul states at the beginning of the episode that Haqqani and the Taliban control half the country… that necessarily means that half the country would also probably like to see him dead. He’s just one man, one small man, and the sun is setting on him. 

Gail: Great insight. The loss of control and chaos surrounding Saul is only growing in scale through this episode, culminating in this fantastic shot.

Sara: I have to laugh. Best facial expression of the century goes to Mr. Linus Roache. 

Gail: Wellington is literally biting his lip! Love it and love the villainous John Zabel, menacing beard and all!

Gail: Carrie is very much “in the weeds.”

Sara: Carrie sure is trying hard to be stealthy given she’s tracing the perimeter of a fence that’s more or less see-through. I LOVE YOU, CARRIE.

Gail: Everything happening to Max feels extremely ominous to me.

Sara: It’s official, this show has an eyeglasses complex. Saul and Max are both glasses-wearing people, and I tend to think the scenes where they’re without them (whether in captivity or otherwise), and the scenes where they get them back, suggest a loss of humanity. They’re being stripped down to the barest and most vulnerable forms of themselves.

Sara: This reveal is really very clever and would have been a lot more so if it hadn’t been spoiled in 46 promos.

Gail: I love how Carrie and Yevgeny are off center in this shot, just like Carrie.

Sara: IJLTP. IJLTP.

Sara: And again with this eyes wide, hands on shoulders, controlled and direct response. I would be creeped out if I didn’t think he was doing it out of ~*~LOVE~*~. But seriously, what do you think this is and why is it so effective? 

Gail: I think he had a lot of practice. (Ugh)

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Forty-Seven G [Part 2 of 3]

"Hot thing, barely twenty-one

Hot thing, looking for big fun

Hot thing, what's your fantasy?

Hot thing, do you want to play with me?"

Prince – "Hot Thing"

Summary: Erik Killmonger runs into his favorite flight attendant again. Payback is not always a bitch...

Mature Content.  Smut. 

Fa'aana stood in the aisle of the business class section of the plane watching passengers board at a snail's pace. She scratched the back of her neck while keeping an eye out for people who needed help.

The last few days had been a breeze with the flight team she was working with. Mark, Mavis, Lucy, and herself were in sync and had the uncanny ability to anticipate what they all needed from each other at any given moment. The long haul they were about to embark on from Italy back to Atlanta was going to be packed. When she checked the passenger manifest, there were only about seven open seats available.

She and Mark were able to catch a fantastic brunch at the hotel they stayed overnight in while on a layover in Rome. Munching on a croissant with a thick smothering of Nutella and the best espresso ever, she detailed the birthday dinner she had with Hugh back in the states.

Mark didn't seem impressed, and after sharing the deets, she realized it was a pretty poor date. They visited the Atlanta aquarium first because she loved the place, but Hugh gave off bored vibes so they left early. The restaurant he made reservations for had pretty bland food despite the expensive menu and all the hype she had heard about it. The strip club he took her to afterward that she was excited about going to wasn't as impressive as she had hoped. The exotic dancers were athletic and did amazing things on the pole, but all the music sounded the same and all the women looked cut from the same cloth: Ultra-colorful wigs. Overly injected ass cheeks and breasts augmented into unnatural sizes and shapes that looked uncomfortable. Plus, all the bored facial expressions.

She wanted a sexy good time that would lead to some amazing sex with Hugh, but instead, he served her mediocre peen. Bad food, bad company, and bad sex. Ugh.

The only highlight of her birthday was finding herself on the lap of a stranger getting fingered on the back of the plane almost a week ago. Forty-Seven G. Erik from Oakland. Thinking of him made her nipples perk up. She hadn't cum like that since…wow, when had she ever cum like that? It was explosive. Primal. It felt like he was introducing her to her own vagina for the first time.

She sighed thinking about him.

After he made her cum, she had to go into the lavatory and change her panties from the fresh pack she had in her carry-on stored in the galley. She wanted to reciprocate the pleasure back to him, but Mark had woken up and they had to prep for the breakfast run before landing and serve a few early coffees and juices. She felt bad because his erection was something she wanted to see and touch.

Before Erik left the plane, she had given him her number because he had promised to send her a picture of himself at the wedding he was attending. Two days later, as promised, a number she didn't recognize popped up on her phone with two attachments. One was a picture of Erik smiling with a bride and groom, and the other was a candid shot of Erik straightening his bow tie.

He was disgustingly photogenic, and she wished she had never asked for a picture because now she would be stuck with a memory of a man she would never see again. He knew how to wear a tux, and he knew how to serve face for the camera. And those damn dimples. Yummy.

She texted the number back thanking him for the picture and she was so glad that she hadn't sent anything else beyond that message because the response she got back was not from Erik, but from a woman who said he asked her to send the pictures. So much for that. He didn't want her to have his number apparently.

She did catch herself staring at the pictures every now and then, and then she would get a shiver up her spine thinking of his lips and his fingers…

"If there are some open seats available, do you think I could move to one of them?"

Fa'aana was broken from her thoughts of Erik and found herself staring into the eyes of a pink-faced older man who seemed disgusted that he had to sit next to a couple with a small child that looked to be about five.

"Once everyone is seated and we know our final headcount, I will let you know," she said.

"Thank you," he said glaring at the couple.

She was tempted to ignore him and pretend they were full even if they weren't. The child had been nothing but quiet and polite since she was placed in her seat. Some people just hated children for no reason.

Fa'aana saw Lucy waving to her from the first-class section. She made her way up the aisle to see what Lucy needed.

"Do you mind taking this and storing it in the back? All the bins up here are filled up."

"No, problem," Fa'aana said grabbing a small roller bag.

The hairs on her neck stood up when she saw Erik walk aboard. The same round black shades, a magenta jacket over a white t-shirt and gray jeans, and that same swagger. He was with a light-skinned Black woman and a white man waiting to head into the first-class section.

"Fa'anna, one more small bag, please. Thanks," Lucy said.

Erik turned his head when he heard her name. She couldn't see his eyes behind the dark frames. There was no hint of recognition really, not even a smile. He heard her name, turned to look at her and then kept it moving up into first.

Oh, it's like that?

Fa'aana headed to the rear of the plane with the bags feeling a bit vexed. The least he could've done was given a head nod or even a "W'sup." Nothing. Nada. Zilch. A cursory glance and then he was stepping. That's why she didn't fuck with young dudes. That man had played all up in her pussy, watched her face and thighs have an intense orgasm too, and he walked by her like he didn't know her.

Well. Be honest. He didn't know her. He probably didn't expect to see her again either. And if the roles were reversed, what would she say to him?

Let it be.

Fa'aana found space for the bags and went back to Lucy to inform her of the aisle numbers so the passengers would know where to retrieve them. She saw the back of Erik's head in first-class. He was seated next to the light-skinned woman who was having a heated conversation with the white man who came with them and was seated behind them.

"My oh my," Lucy said giving Fa'aana a look.

"What's up?"

"A little lovers spat," Lucy said glancing back over at Erik and his companions.

"The Black guy and woman—"

"No. The woman next to him is with the white guy behind her. She made the Black guy switch seats with the white guy."

Fa'aana saw Erik talking to the woman and she was shaking her head and pointing her finger at the man behind her. It was difficult to hear anything from them clearly, but it sounded like Erik was saying "Not my problem."

"Hopefully they simmer down soon," Lucy said.

Fa'aana nodded, but her eyes were still on Erik's face. Mark strolled up to them.

"So we have seven open seats available, three in the back, and four in business," he said.

"Be discreet, but if two of you want to fill in the seats in the back, do it," Lucy said.

"Cool," Fa'aana said taking one last look at Erik, then heading back to her station.

Turbulence.

They hit some on the way out of Italy and had to endure more as they passed over France. Fa'aana and the other flight attendants had to wait to do snack and beverage runs. By the time they were halfway over France, the airstream was smooth again.

They made swift work of giving out snacks and libations. She moved the pink-faced complainer to another seat and helped an elderly passenger up to the business class restroom and back. By the time the dinner run was complete two hours later and cleaned up, she was able to kick back for a moment and rub her feet. She snagged an empty aisle seat in fifty-seven G but had to keep getting up for some wine thirsty passengers.

She was mixing a Bloody Mary when she heard a soft "Hey."

Glancing up she saw Erik leaning against a panel next to one of the lavatories. Dark glasses off, his face looked soft and open. She stared at him for a moment.

"Just a sec," she said moving past him to deliver the drink in her hand.

She felt her heart do a little double time. When she turned to walk back to the galley, he was watching her approach. She stepped past him and moved further into the galley. Mavis was in a seat in business class and Mark was sitting on the other side in seat fifty-two A. She had the galley to herself. Normally she would tell passengers they couldn't be near the galley. But this was different.

"Thanks for the pictures," she said trying to figure out the best opening.

"The wedding was great," he said.

Standing near him was so different than when they had been sitting next to each other, and when she had been sprawled across his lap. He towered over her…

"When you came aboard, I thought you didn't recognize me," she said, "is it the hair?"

She twirled a finger into her thick twist out hairstyle.

"Nah, I wouldn't forget you, trust," he drawled out, "I was just caught up with some drama."

"That's what I hear," she said.

"Whatchu hear?"

"The woman you were with seemed upset about something. You had to switch seats."

"Yeah, Chloe. My Ex."

"Who is the guy with you two?"

"Her boyfriend."

"What? Oh, I need to hear this," she said. She gave him a friendly smile. He moved in closer so that he was no longer near the two lavatories. She could really feel his height now. The vibratory hum of the plane masked their conversation.

"Nah, this shit is boring—"

"To you maybe. You go to friend's wedding and your ex-Girlfriend is there with her current boyfriend…and now the three of you are bosom buddies riding in first-class together. Yeah, total dullsville."

He laughed.

"Ain't no bosom buddies—"

"Speak then. How long ago has she been your Ex?"

"A year—"

"Wait, how old is she?"

"Twenty-four."

"How old is he?"

"Thirty."

"So, what happened?"

"First of all, it wasn't a surprise that she was going to be at this wedding. My boy already let me know that she was going to be there with her new man. She and I been cool for a minute, so it wasn't like shit was going to pop off when we saw each other. She introduced me to her man and everything was cool breezy y'know, mellow and shit. Wedding was dope as hell. But I notice that her man is making these reckless comments about her that I don't think is cool. Like he's saying shit to try and fit in because the majority of the people there are Black—"

"What was he saying?"

"Dumb shit not even worth repeating. So I pull her aside and tell her that I think her man is only with her because she's Black, but the type of Black that white guys like—"

"Which is?"

"Ambiguous Black women. Light bright, wavy hair…but this dude has a thing for big asses too….which I can understand…but still, I was getting fetish vibes. She and I have always been 100 with one another so I felt comfortable giving her my opinion. She didn't believe me so I just let it go."

His voice was getting heated telling the story. His facial expressions were interesting to watch.

"We're all doing the wedding party stuff and having a good time for four days. But then last night, she gets drunk and they start arguing over some personal shit, and my name gets thrown in there and he accuses her of wanting to sleep with me. I have no interest in her whatsoever. She's an Ex for a hella good reason…"

He shook his head.

"You don't need to hear all this boring ass shit. They got issues and I'm not going back up there until they go to sleep or something."

"You better go back up there and enjoy your first class—"

"I didn't pay for that. She upgraded my ticket, and that just added fuel to the fire. I was hoping to eat my fancy food and mind my business, but they kept at it."

"You can't stand for seven hours."

"Any open seats back here?"

"There's an aisle seat that's open. There's a man in the window seat—"

"Show me," he said.

She moved past him and pointed out the aisle seat that she had vacated.

"Yo, my man, you want to switch seats? You can have my first-class spot."

The passenger who had been trying to get comfortable against the window looked shocked.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

Erik handed him his first-class ticket receipt. Fa'aana nodded to the passenger.

"Wow, thanks a lot buddy," the man said as he stood up and took the ticket stub.

"Enjoy," Erik said.

"That was nice of you," she said.

"Be right back, I need to get my computer bag."

She watched him walk the long trek up to first-class. A passenger requested her assistance and she tended to them, bringing another blanket and a bottle of water.

She was making herself a cup of tea when Erik slipped back into the galley to stand near her.

"All good?"

"They sleep. Didn't even see me leave."

"Nice."

"How was your birthday dinner with your boyfriend?"

"Trash."

He laughed and she laughed with him. She ran it down for him without mention of the bad sex and he shook his head.

"You went to the wrong strip club, Ma. I know some places down there you should go to."

"You going to take me?"

"Next time I roll through."

"Hit me up then."

She waited to see how he would react to that.

"I got your number, girl."

"Alright. We'll see," she said.

She turned and sprinkled a sugar packet into her tea and she felt him get close behind her, his body heat radiating into her back. He leaned down to her ear.

"I ain't forgot about the last time I saw you," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and put down the tea. Sweet cornrowed Jesus.

"Erik, I'm working."

"You were working last time too—"

"Erik!"

He jerked back from her when he heard the shrill female voice.

"Chloe," he said stepping out of the galley and back into the aisle.

Fa'aana ducked her head out and sipped on her tea. Chloe's face was flush, her lank dark hair swept to one side of her left shoulder. Her thick lips were curled up into a scowl.

"You just let some strange man come sit next to me?" she hissed to Erik.

He pulled her closer to the lavatories and the galley.

"I'm not tryna hear your bullshit, Chloe. I said what I had to say and I'm done—"

"No, we're not done. Come back to the front—"

"Nah—"

Chloe clutched at Erik's arm.

Fa'aana stepped forward using her trained de-escalation voice.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need for you to go take your seat."

"You just mind your damn business. Go serve some coffee or something," Chloe said with a clipped voice.

"Don't talk to Fa'aana like that—"

"You know this bitch?" Chloe said stepping toward Fa'aana like she was ready to throw hands.

Fa'aana felt her neck tilt.

This heffa could catch some hands…

Erik stepped in front of Chloe.

"Take your ass back to your seat."

Fa'aana and Chloe both heard the rumble in his voice. It made Chloe's face switch up real quick and Fa'aana's knees quake.

"Erik, baby, I just want to talk…"

Chloe's tone had shifted. Coquettish. Soft. Pacifying. She was trying to wrap him around her finger. Fa'aana wanted him to wrap his hand around her own throat and choke her slowly while talking forcefully like that again. She imagined him bending her over—

Erik's eyes swept back to look at her.

"Sorry about this," he said. His face looked tired like he had been dealing with Chloe and her boyfriend all day and he was just weary of it. A passenger light signal went off and Fa'aana was happy for the distraction.

"I'll need you both to return to your seats please," she said in her professional voice. She left them to go tend to the service call.

A woman with a French accent wanted water for some aspirin she was taking. Fa'aana went to retrieve it and across the aisle, she saw Erik walking back to first-class with Chloe.

Sitting in the aisle seat, Fa'aana started a game of Blackjack on the vid screen in front of her. The cabin had quieted down and she could finally rest her feet after completing several walk-throughs checking on passengers. Most were asleep or trying to sleep.

"Mind if I sit in my seat?"

Erik watched her face as her finger lingered on the vid screen. She started to scoot over.

"I want the window," he said.

She stood up and let him haul his body over to the window. He took off his jacket and sat it on his lap.

"Sorry about that Chloe shit," he said.

"Already forgotten," she said starting a new game on the vid screen.

He reached for her hand on the screen and held it.

"Nah, for real. That wasn't cool."

"So that's the type of women you go for?"

"Chloe is a little hot-headed—"

"Entitled—"

"That too sometimes."

"What did you ever see in her?"

"She's fine—"

"Typical—"

"Typical? Men like fine women. Physical beauty is what we see first. Straight up."

Fa'aana rolled her eyes.

"Women do it too. Don't act like y'all don't check for fine niggas," he said.

"Why did you break up with her? That sparkling personality of hers didn't keep your interest?"

Erik's eyes dropped to his hands.

"She's looking for a husband, picket fence, kids, all that rah rah. I felt like she was grooming me to take home to her parents. I'm too young for all that. I got shit to do and I have my own timetable for how I want my life to proceed. She didn't respect that. Got a little pushy so I bounced."

"What's your timetable?"

"Finish grad school. Then I'm going into the Navy. Become a Seal—"

"Wait, grad school and then the Navy? You don't strike me as a military man."

"I graduated from Annapolis before going to M.I.T. Been training for this life for a minute."

His eyes were so focused when he talked about his plans. She noticed a silver chain around his neck with a heavy and expensive-looking silver-black ring on it. She reached out and touched it and his hand shot out to pull it away from her.

"Sorry. I should've asked to touch it. It's beautiful."

His hand released her hand and she turned the ring with her fingers.

"It belonged to my father. He was killed when I was younger."

"Sorry to hear that, Erik. What language is this writing on it?"

"Wakandan. East Africa. My father was from there."

His demeanor became somber. This was something painful for him. She released the necklace and he tucked it inside of his shirt. They were silent together for a moment. She stepped away from her seat to go check the galley and to see if any passengers made any service calls. There were none and hadn't been any for a long time. The people in front of them and across from them were knocked out with headphones on and movies playing.

Back at the seat, Erik had fired up his own game. When she plopped down next to him, he seemed more cheerful.

"I didn't think I would run into you again," he said.

"Me neither, but there was always the small chance."

"You were hoping to see me, huh?"

Her lips curled up in a sly smile.

"You can admit it. I wanted to see you again myself. You been on my mind the whole time I was in Rome…"

She felt herself getting warm again. His voice was low and he was giving her bedroom eyes that she couldn't resist. He lifted up the middle armrests.

"C'mere," he said reaching for her.

"Erik, there are too many people—"

"Give me those pretty lips, girl…"

Her body ignored her brain, and she was scooting over to him and giving up her mouth freely.

"Hmmm, you taste so sweet," he said. He sucked on her tongue, the cranberry and apple tea was still strong on her breath. His right hand reached up and touched her blouse, his fingers feeling for her left breast. He tweaked her nipple and then his whole hand squeezed her plum-sized breast. He released her lips from his and his forehead pressed against hers.

"Open this up," he breathed out to her.

She didn't move.

"We're good, no one is paying attention. I want to touch you. Let me touch you," he whispered. His full lips were taunting her. He was nothing but trouble. Good trouble.

She allowed her fingers to open only four buttons, just enough to let him get his hand inside. He opened a fifth button himself and thrust his warm hand down on her. The thin silk of her bra cup was forced aside so that his fingers found her pebbled nipple. He pinched it and she gasped.

"Erik…"

His fingers went to her other nipple and plucked at it. His mouth found hers again and he pulled her closer to his side. He tongued her down until her toes had curled and uncurled several times. He released her lips and she felt breathless. His hand reached under his jacket.

"You owe me," he said. She saw him tugging on himself under the jacket. She squirmed in her seat, her hips rotating slowly from need. He pushed his jacket aside and unfastened his jeans.

"Play with my dick."

Her hand slid down and reached for his pants.

"I want to see you pull it out."

She used both hands, one to pull back his boxers, the other to release the bulge that waited for her. When she gripped his erection, he let out a soft groan.

"Soft ass hands…"

She pulled out his dick. It was so heavy and so full of heat. Fuck. The weight of it made her mouth water. She stroked him.

"Ooh, yeah, just like that. Keep doing that."

She circled the head with her fingers and he widened his legs pulling down on his boxers so that his balls were accessible for her too. His fat sack was so hot to the touch.

"Stroke that shit. Make me feel it, Ma."

She whimpered, fisting him just under the mushroom head, hitting his frenulum and twisting her fingers a bit.

"How you know my spot already, girl?" he gasped, shifting in his seat. Beads of pre-cum seeped out and dripped on her fingers. She played with it and rolled it across the wide head. His slit leaked more. "You want to taste me? Go 'head, put your mouth on that shit," he said.

She lowered her head and licked the clear fluid. More spilled out and she gobbled it up.

"Stick your tongue on that hole…yeah…just like that…I got some more for you."

She squeezed the head and his natural lubricant trickled out onto her wet tongue. She smacked her lips and looked up at him.

"Let me stretch that mouth," he said. She moaned. She cared about nothing else at that moment. They could fire her for all she cared. She just needed this man's fast ass cock in her mouth.

He thrust up his hips and the bulbous head touched her lips. She opened as wide as she could and took him in. His lips pressed together tightly as he swallowed a deep groan. Her head bobbed in his lap and his left hand hovered above her hair, touching her head and pushing down when he wanted her to go deeper...harder.

When she raised up to catch her breath after she started gagging, he pulled on her hair. He gripped his dick and squeezed the head so that his wide slit opened.

"Spit on my dick," he said.

She swirled her tongue in her mouth collecting saliva and spit on the head making his dick sloppy wet.

"You like being nasty, huh? Spit on it again, bitch."

She felt her stomach twist up and a strong pulse made her pussy throb from his words. She spit on his dick again and then he was shoving it back in her mouth. He reached for his jacket and used it to cover her lower half. His left hand frantically raised up her skirt and then shoved down into her stockings. She wiggled her hips so that his fingers could reach her panties and soaked folds.

"Damn…you know how to suck dick…swallow this shit baby…yeah… keep going…keep going…"

Her folds were so wet and her pussy so engorged, he was able to slip his fingers in and out with ease. He flicked her clit in a delicious rhythm and she felt an orgasm building. He was making her work her neck out as he fucked her face trying his best to keep quiet. He was beginning to inhale with harsh sounds.

"I'm 'bout to feed you, girl. You betta swallow this nut—"

That's all it took. Her release was tight on his fingers, her walls throbbing with intense pleasure that made her skin tingle.

"Ohhhhhh…" Erik groaned, his legs seizing up tight as a hot load of cum shot up into her mouth. His dick swelled in her mouth and she felt it spasm several times. She swallowed what she could and then had to let him go because she was choking on his girth.

"Damn, girl, damn."

She held onto his cock as a final stream of creamy white spilled out from him. He looked down at his dick.

"Clean me up. Lick all that shit up."

She did what she was told to do. His fingers were still inserted in her pussy. And she was grateful for his touch.

"Fuck, that was a lot," he said.

She giggled and sat up. He re-fastened his pants. She fixed her skirt and buttoned up her blouse. He stuck two of his fingers in her mouth.

"You suck dick like a champ. World class head game, baby."

She circled her tongue around his fingers then pulled them out, licking up and down each digit.

"You should be ashamed of yourself. Sucking dick on the job…"

"That's good customer service," she quipped.

"You right, Ma. Serving excellence. I'ma tell your boss to give you a raise when I leave."

She felt her face flatten.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head and pulled back from him. Passengers around them were still knocked out.

"Hey, Fa'aana, w'sup?"

Stupid. It was stupid. She was catching feelings.

"I need to freshen up," she said.

He pulled her in tight and fast.

"I'm feeling you too, Ma."

When his lips pressed into hers and she gave into his tongue and the heat of his mouth, she knew he wasn't lying.

Forty-Seven G [Part 1]  Forty-Seven G [Part 2]  Forty-Seven G [Part 3]

Tag List:

@fonville-designs

[diaryformytravels]

Entry #1: Venturing to Helsinki

On December 26th, we boarded our first flight (Perth to London) at around 7pm. After some tearful goodbyes and not really wanting to leave, it was hard to sit around and wait. However, I was jaunted out of this state when I saw one of the cabin crew side-on, as he looked EXACTLY like Dad when he was younger. Anyway, we eventually boarded the flight and were luckily positioned with a spare seat next to us. As we took off, we waved to the foreshore and witnessed a gorgeous sunset. An announcement was made, “blah blah time difference, blah blah meals...” but then, they said something that we found quite entertaining, “if you’d prefer to speak with crew in Spanish, let us know as we have a crew member who can facilitate this request.” WTF. Why Spanish on a flight from Perth to London?

The flight itself was quite pleasant, we watched Spiderman: Far From Home and Beauty and the Beast when we were served our dinner of Shepherds Pie (which made me homesick before we even left the Australian airspace). Jasper so generously offered me the middle seat to lay across and he scooted over to the window. It felt like I never went to sleep and just moved every so often, but when I checked the time I realised I was sleeping for hours at a time. To avoid the noisiness of the engines, I listened to the rain app I use every night going to sleep (to block out someone’s snoring!) which calmed me down a bit. We both woke up 10 hours later before breakfast was served, which we opted out from, and I elected to eat Mars Pods for brekky instead of the gross frittata. Jasper proceeded to play Nintendo and I watched Bridget Jones’s Diary - I did NOT like seeing Hugh Grant as a baddie.

The changeover was pretty smooth apart from struggling a little to find where to re-enter the airport.London to Helsinki was not as much of a pleasant flight. We were seated in the only row without aircon vents and there were no screens in the back of the chairs. Furthermore, first class consisted of the exact same seats as economy, but with one chair left in the middle. During boarding after we had already sat down, a man bent down next to me, picked up a child’s toy (one with an animal head on a blanket), looked at me and said “Is this yours?” Sir, take a look at the other option of who this could belong to, aka the three year old child in front of me. Does it look like it belongs to me? Keep walking, bucko. We watched The Hitman’s Bodyguard on Jasper’s iPad, and that took up almost all of the flight. So far, I have nearly finished one packet of Mentos.

It took about 5 hours (1 hour) to get through immigration and to get our bags, because there were only 2 people on the desks at immigration. It didn't help that they were asking stupid questions and wasting time. For example, some stupid stuff he asked us was “what's the address of where you’re staying? where are you sleeping? can I see your tickets to London?”. Finally, we got to the baggage claim where we stood next to this crazy woman who was singing to herself. We then went through to arrivals, greeted by Michelle jokingly (I think) complaining that her coffee had gone cold and a hug from Max. We then walked to where Mikko had illegally parked the car they’re borrowing from his family, which is more like a mini bus. We then were lucky enough to receive a very-awkward hug from him as well.

On the drive to the hotel, they complained about the way Siri was taking them, which begs me to ask the question: if they know the way, why do they need directions? After arriving and unloading the car, Mikko told Max and me to call the elevator for floor 9. This must've gotten lost in translation, because there are only 6 floors. After a bit, we all deduced it was apartment 9, not floor 9. We unpacked, figured out Max had stolen Jasper’s beanie last time they saw each other, got changed and went for a walk to find somewhere to eat. Mum, I understand why you hate living in the cold. Putting on all the layers and sweating before even leaving the house, my face freezing off and not being able to do anything about it, putting on gloves and forgetting to do the coat buttons up first... the worst. European winter has lost its charm. We did see some nice Christmas lights on the way to dinner though!

(The ones in the second photo look like penises)

We went to this under-average Italian restaurant where Max insisted on ordering the adult menu burger but taking out almost all the ingredients, rather than ordering the kids burger which had what he wanted. When the food came, the poor waitress delivered a burger with mayonnaise. As she walked away unwittingly, Mikko tried to get her attention by clicking and raising his voice. Oh, the embarrassment. Interesting observation: Michelle still goes to the bathroom with Max. The dinner made me even more homesick, which was mistaken as exhaustion. The forced conversation, long silences, inappropriate treating of staff and sheer vibe made me realise how much I take for granted with you guys, e.g. not having to pre-plan conversation starters.

On the walk home, we got hot chocolates, saw some Christmas shop windows, Michelle bought some makeup, and Max complained about wanting to go ice-skating. We stopped off for some snacks (cherry tomatoes, mini Oreos, grapes and apples for me) and then battled the wind to get back to the apartment.

The place we’re staying is quite nice, the same building we stayed in this time last year. However, this time around there's no sauna in the room (lift your game, Finland).

We had showers, said an early goodnight to the family, and are now laying in bed. Jasper’s about to pass out from exhaustion.

Miss you lots,

M xoxo

[mc-slowwalker]

I have a prime sub but it’s to karl… who never streams :’((( I miss karl he should stream more. I have literally never been gifted a sub and a friend of mine has been gifted so many like, george, ranboo you name it. 3 hours after I started typing this I got gifted a punz sub lets gooo. gonna be watching his mcc ad and we’ll see about the ads

so true I 100% agree. cheating is always morally correct. “academic integrity” like okay uni whatever you say it’s literally has no weight if you’re studying to pass an exam instead of actually learning. we should be studying to learn not pass an exam. yeah exactly!! knowledge shouldn’t cost this much.

lmaooo trueee and also moood. (about the antisocial/awkward stuff I feel like to didnt make sense just like that what I was referring to with the next sentence starting with “like”) like I feel bad about feeling toxic about the twitter updates account thing because like I’ve been a person from the twitter updates account but like I’m not toxic for no reason afterwards. yeah it’s 100% so frustrating!! like a while ago I remember seeing “oh I’m not sending dts on dream’s behalf I’m sending them on mine” like huh???? do you not see the problem with that??? ughhh I get you tho I was annoyed with the kaceytron stream as well. I didn’t watch it tho like I watched a bit and was like fuck this then left. yeah I also hate it when he goes on streams of people who actively talk shit about him like :/// lowkey I feel like I’m just a bit too defensive of him sometimes because of all the unnecessary shit he gets from so so many people but at least I recognise that ig. I swear tho, his twitter stans get him in wayy more shit than he does. like that one account that counted the days made me so mad. but yeah it is kind of the same stuff. like I try not to cause I know it’s the same but like when I do it, it feels justified and not just being shitty for no reason but take away all that and it is really the same. like not to be a gatekeeper buuuuut. I’m very good at ignoring it all tho

that’s really cool but also spanish as a requirement in uni (/college idk)??? never heard of that. oh dang that’s cool I’ve always wanted to know more languages. language and the way people use it and like communication in general has always been so interesting to me. I want to say something about like my strong use of “like” now cause I’m noticing it. yeah exactly, the way people communicate online is so interesting!

tubbo should start war with foolish about the beets. that would be funny I think. and amazing lore. cause like not all lore has to be all high production. like I love hugh production lore, I love funny, silly lore, I love “semi” lore I’d enjoy it all. just log onto the smp and like idk do literally anything I will count it as lore. everything that has ever happened on the smp is canon to me. tubbo could literally just like nuke someone and start a whole new storyline. he should nuke the prison. I would say nuke foolish’s summer home over the beets but I’d be too sad about that and it’s a bit of an overreaction. there is much potential and I love tubbos character. also ranboo?? he just said that enderwalk was c!ranboo with all his memories and just like dipped and went to the uk. I do get that they’re all very busy tho and it can be difficult to find the time and all that I haven’t watched much of the bear smp but it looks cool and I may get into it at some point. I feel like I just don’t have any time these days tho

he didn’t drop off the face of the earth!! he did a 5 hour long merch vc. I am australian 😔✌️so I was asleep for half of it but it was nice just listening to it when I woke up. sapanp singing was my favourite bit. like I listened to some of those songs afterwards cause I liked them but it just wasn’t the same😔😔

I feel bad for replying so late tho so sorry about that I just felt very not social all day but I do like that with anon I can kinda just come and go and it’s chill

Yooooo congrats on the gifted punz sub! Yeah I seem to have bad luck with gifted subs, random chance I’ve only gotten sapnap, the fundy gifted was a gift from a friend

The best knowledge is free anyways. Also uni/college always tries to guilt you like who are you the catholic church fuck off. Bruh I’m paying for your services you should be treating me good I’m basically a glorified customer

Bro you where a twitter updates account?? Props to you I am at all times in the worst position to know stuff. Unless I am actively live blogging I have 0 what’s going on. I’m always years late to new informations like I’ll check my phone and realize that I missed a whole lore stream. Also on twitter you can’t even send dts right??? Like here you can actually say the words death die & kill but on twitter you have to censor yourself. “Die” funny, a little threatening but ultimately can be ignored. “d13” hilarious not at all threatening?? Wait this makes it seme like I am cool with death threats I’m not but I’ve gotten a fair share and seen other people get them and they’re always funny to me. Telling someone to die isn’t funny but being told to die is very funny if that clarifies anything. I thinknI watched a lot of the kaceytron stream (however I watched it through a dream fan streaming the stream so she didn’t get any views/money) and the whole thing was extremely upsetting. I can be defensive of him too, not so much for him but more for me. I know he can probably handle most of it but how dare people insult stuff I like. It’s less defending his honor and more how dare people disrespect me through disrespecting things I like. Plus if it ever is too much for dream I know his friends will come in clutch. Bbh saying stuff is the indicator tm that what people are saying about dream is bullshit

Does college means something different to the rest of the world? In the us it’s almost interchangeable with uni except universities can give you a doctorate while college can only get you your undergrad. It’s less that spanish is required and more that we’re required to take two years of a language and I just chose spanish. I’ve met so many people who either only speak spanish or have spanish as their first language that knowing the amount that I do has actually come in handy. Dont think about the like thing too much trust me. It’s a really good comma and indicator that you’re speaking casually but the more you notice it the more upsetting it becomes

I think the beets could be a great plot point because beets suck and I hate them!! I really do like silly lore but I hate the effect it has on the fandom. I haven’t forgiven people for writing off the l’sandburg lore. In the words of the wisest man I ever knew “everything I do on the dream smp is canon to some extent”. Accept that silly lore is canon folks!! That’s what makes the dream smp so much fun! Also high production lore can be super lame guys please this is roleplay in minecraft chill

Wait about tubbo’s lore did we ever find out who stole the one nuke? I don’t watch a lot of ranboo’s stuff but I’m very happy that enderwalk ranboo is besties with c!dream theory is coming along nicely. Uno au my beloved. No about the bear smp stuff I’d also like to get into ballsmp, more of hermit craft, and 3rd life but I’m busy too? Like college hasn’t even started and I’m already sweating. Speaking of other smps do you remember that smp that karl and quackity were invited to but never logged on? Ahoddj that was hysterical. Never gonna watch it, just think it’s funny that they were invited and decided you know what nah

The 5 hour long merch podcast my beloved!!! I had two favorite parts (other than sapnap singing) the first was when he said the alright and we all complained enough that he decided to keep streaming and the second was the final alright where he said bye and then dipped with 0 hesitation while sap & george were still in the call sjsjdk

Again no worries I’ll always be here to answer no rush for anything I’m simply vibing at all times

[dansnaturepictures]

22/08/2020-Part 1: Walks around where we stayed and Dipper and more at Fingle Bridge: These photos different the ones I tweeted last night

On a walk up the lane from where we’re staying this morning, it started rainy and then got sunny, we enjoyed some stunning Devonshire views of lovely countryside which was a great start to the day alongside being very relaxed at being away and excited. On this walk like I did throughout today I saw more rosebay willowherb and some more foxgloves after seeing and photographing them the other side of the cottage by the lakes last night. As the sun really came out I was delighted to see beautiful Swallows flying very close overhead and landing on the wire, a special moment with a bird we have to make the most of as they will be migrating away from the UK soon. A young Robin outside the cottage was very lovely to see and I saw and photographed one at Fingle Bridge later on today which was memorable. I took the first two pictures in this photoset on this walk.

We then went to Fingle Bridge, my second visit here after 2015 which is Dipper country and as I have mentioned I think after thinking my chance was gone to see one this year it was our main target coming to the West Country to come here and see it today. So we searched. But it’s been said before by Martin Hughes-Games on one of the BBC Spring/Autumn/Winterwatches in the past if you see a Dipper you are somewhere beautiful and it did look absolutely sensational out there throughout the walk today. The habitat of water babbling its way over rocks and through the valley in woodland the River Teign which passes through there. Seeing the waterfall and gushing water scenes was so magical again and the weather really held we didn’t know what would happen it was so sunny and bright today and was so much here. I took third, seventh, eighth and ninth pictures in this photoset of such views and tenth and final of another looking up to a higher area above the pub here where some heather was looking very nice in the sun. Wildlife wise it was nice as we walked along to see a couple of Grey Wagtails you find them where you’ll find Dippers so it was encouraging to see them when we needed to see Dipper but I’d seen less of them this year myself in home areas as it’s something I see so often when working out of the office in Winchester. I was also delighted to see three Silver-washed Fritillaries alongside a good few other butterflies including the one in the fifth picture in this photoset.

This is a butterfly at home in Hampshire that is long gone really this year and this one was battered so possibly coming towards its end. But what I found striking today, and what my rosebay willowherb and foxglove sightings whilst away support too with those flowers long gone at home really too was how behind Hampshire Devon is in the season’s progression. At home you’ll have noticed if you look at my posts and photos regularly that I have already seen so many trees with autumn leaves. Today I only saw one in autumn colour, which I took the fourth picture in this photoset of, I have seen pictures online to show that Fingle Bridge and surrounding Fingle Wood look amazing in the autumn with the full colour. But today it still looked so green and almost as August should look actually, so whilst I am still enjoying summer and early autumn sights at home this showed the season is not only behind here it’s been like stepping back in time but its perhaps in line with what I expect from a normal year.

Our quest to see a Dipper was beginning to look a bit fruitless, but I kept saying we must never give up and all we needed was a moment of magic to see one. Luck changes in seconds with these birds. We came across an angler who we spoke to at a safe social distance as we were eating one or two wild raspberries and he had some too and I had some blackberries further on. We asked if he’d seen a Dipper and he had as well as Kingfisher too the Dipper recently and he told us roughly how far along. It was a very pleasant chat. We walked on checking the river at all times and we saw a Dipper! Very likely the same one. That one moment had happened and I felt so happy. We got brilliant views of it on the rocks in the water and it was very interesting to see it flying as I had done before and see it swimming a bit which I never had before really in the flesh. I got my first photo of an adult Dipper since 2014 which I tweeted, we had seen the bird we had come for which meant it was mission accomplished and we could feel anything that happened on the trip now was a bonus and it was a relief to see this my 12th ever occasion of seeing a Dipper.

It was quite an emotional moment really. 2020 looked like a year we could possibly see a Dipper when we went to North Wales in June we had the right habitat and had locations where we looked for them there in 2016 but that was rightly postponed due to the virus at that stage. I then thought and even said I would not see a Dipper this year. But then the Bird Fair was also cancelled and we managed to sneak a staying away trip in to this area we love so much and Dipper was the bird we’d come for and we’d managed it which I loved. It was very thrilling to see this bird today. 10 years on in very similar habitat (My first ever Dipper was at Exmoor’s Watersmeet which Fingle Bridge is like a Dartmoor version of) from seeing my first Dipper I was reminded why they are one of my favourite birds and how much I love it. Interestingly during my last time off work for more than one day my hot week off of day trips in Hampshire and most notably surrounding counties to it in June, on the Friday I watched Julia Bradbury’s ‘Walks with a View’ programme I think repeated where she walked Lynmouth to Watersmeet as part of her walk that episode and saw Dippers which made me very nostalgic this before I knew we’d get to go to Devon so it just made me feel very nice that. Year list wise it was a very important milestone being my 170th bird of 2020. A worthy bird to be the milestone which made me very happy. Equally I didn’t know if I’d reach 170 birds this year it’s been a crazy and restrictive (for the best for us all of course) year a figure it always feels smashing and I am proud to reach I’ve only achieved it six times now so I felt happy.

I took the sixth picture in this photoset of a lovely tall tree here which looked beautiful. I came away once again with a very good impression of Fingle Bridge today what a fantastic place it is, the woods and river habitat I just love so much. There’s also lots of nice picnic areas it’s a typical National Trust place so it was nice to see lots of people safely enjoying time outside this August it gave me great holiday vibes. I produced over 60 photos today a record for me so to help take the burden off the ones I had to tweet when home by having exclusive photos making up my post I did a separate blog about what we did next in our day which shall post next.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: (Around the cottage) Swallow, Robin, Carrion Crow, Speckled Wood and Large White. (Fingle Bridge) My first of one of my favourite birds the Dipper this year, two of my favourite butterflies the Silver-washed Fritillary and Red Admiral, one of my favourite dragonflies the Southern Hawker, Grey Wagtail, Robin, Carrion Crow, Gatekeeper, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood and Large White.