#and he was just ‘guy from other major who wears a fancy suit and takes the same train as me’

[straightlightyagami]

crazy how someone can go from “random person on the train” to “love of your life” in just a few months… makes you think like, sometimes you see random people and your lives will go completely separate ways after this moment, but maybe if you knew each other, you’d get along really well, maybe they’d understand you like no one else. maybe by a series of coincidences you will become best friends

[antisociallilbrat]

Poly Losers Publicity

This is an idea, a back bone of a fic that I'm never going to write so I'm putting it here. If you want to write it, go ahead. I just need to get these brain worms out of my head. This is from my Poly Losers Au.

So like Richie, Bev, and Bill are all relatively famous? Richie is a famous comedian (who I headcannon him being on SNL at one point in his career) and then you have Bev who is a famous fashion designer? Like her work rivals Gucci and other major fashion brands. Then you have Bill who is like the horror novelist, who always has his books being adapted into movies.

So anyways the public is nosy and wants to know who's banging who. Richie, Bill, and Bev, along with the other Losers have decided to keep their relationship a secret. Yeah being gay/bi is okay but they don't want to have to explain why they're in a relationship of seven people. Bev, Richie, and Bill handle this in many different ways. Bev just deflects any relationship questions in interviews and Richie jokes that he's a whore and no one will date him. (Stan and Eddie give him so much shit over that bit) and Bill,,,poor bb flounders.

Bill likes to dedicate his books to his lovers. Each book he writes has a dedication that says something like: "To my lover who watches the birds", or "To my lover that is sun on earth", and naturally people ask who this lover is in interviews. And Bill just doesn't know how to lie so the general public just thinks that Bill's lover is a multifaceted person who loves to grow plants, bird watches, work on cars, and also writes poetry.

This all works for a while until Bill is caught in public holding hands with Ben. Magazines blow up like :"Is this the lover of many talents?? World Renowned architect Ben Hanscom??" so now they just let the public think Bill is dating just Ben. Also Bill and Richie got an argument over it that went like:

Richie: "This is so not fair, why do you get Ben?"

Bill: "It's not like I was trying to get caught!"

Richie: "Well if you get Ben then I get Mike!"

Bill: "Fine."

Richie: "Fine!"

Bill: "Fine!"

On Richie's next stand up he tells everyone he's dating this cute librarian named Mike and like with Bill, the press eats that up.

But fans are crazy right? Like they had a working theory that Richie was actually dating this high end accountant (Stanley) bc Richie had been spotted with him a couple times at fancy parties. (Stanley is a slut for fancy parties and Richie only goes to the ones he's invited to bc he knows Stan will enjoy it) But some other fans had a theory that Richie was dating high end fashion designer Beverly Marsh. Because Richie only ever wears her clothes on stage or in interviews. Plus they've been spotted being flirty before at award shows. So fans are a little confused when Richie announces he's dating a humble librarian.

But remember fans are crazy so it doesn't take long for them to figure out that Bill Denbrough also only ever wears suits out of the Beverly Marsh brand. Which is strange bc Bill and Richie have very much a bickering banter in the spotlight. So they're all left wondering, what does this all mean?

Because yes Bev avoids relationship questions but she always has the same guy with her as her 'date' at events. A man not much taller than her and he's been seen reassuring her at her runway shows. Calming down her anxiety. (Eddie is 100% Bev's unofficial manager and I like to think that Bev's fashion is her and Eddie's thing. He's the one who goes to all her shows.)

So at this point fans are going crazy. They have Bill who is dating the famous architect but has written too many dedications for it just be about Ben. Also some fans 'ship' Bill and Richie bc of how they play fight through the press.

Then there's Richie who is dating the "Librarian" Mike Hanlon, but also Richie has been spotted with at like Galas with one of the best accountants in the business, Stanley Uris and he constantly flirts with Bev in the public eye.

But Richie and Bill both exclusively wear Beverly Marsh. And Bev who avoids relationship questions but is seen with the same man at shows, who the fans had pieced together is Eddie Kaspbrack. Someone who owns a predominant limousine company in New York.

And this all falls apart after one particular award show, Bill's book turned Movie won an oscar, and the Losers were out celebrating at what they thought was a private party....only to wake up the next morning and see all hell break loose. There are photos of Richie making out with Bill and Ben. There's a couple photos of Bev scandalously dancing with Richie's librarian boyfriend, Mike. Then to top it off Eddie and Stan are spotted sneaking away from said party. Two people with romantic links to Bev and Richie.

The internet blows up.

Richie tweets out the next day: "So I see you've guys have met my lovers. Yes, plural. Told you I was a whore."

I honestly feel like this has been down before, and if it has please let me know. I just can't get this particular version out of my head.

[erinhime83]

Yes, I knew, I know, I already did designs of these guys a few months ago, but I tweeked a couple of the designs, but me being me, I wanted to post them up for people to see and make it more people’s problem, lol.  I didn’t change that much, honestly, but it was enough that I wanted to put up the new designs.  Plus, I made design sheets for the major characters, yey.

First is Buttercup, who does get a minor outfit tweek (it’s not noticeable, but I moved her belt down to her hips, and it does look a lot better).  But she ended up becoming a victim of Erin taking away everyone’s wavy hair trope that I’ve started, because, well, I ‘see’ her more with the straight hair.  She looks cute, she looks innocent, and she strays away from the traditional Altairian hair braiding thing because she doesn’t quite understand the tradition.  Same goes with the piercings – she should technically have more, but she opted to skip a few milestone ceremonies because she didn’t want to have too many.  I was talked into giving her a 'disguise' dress for when she's traveling in Lumentis for a bit, and I thought it would be funny (since it's a stolen dress), if the colors were completely different from what she would normally wear, and I'm actually pleased with how it turned out! Simple, and yet nice. I also attempted to change her formal dress, but ended up just changing the color of the circular collar for shits and giggles.  She doesn’t wear eye liner with the fancy dress because, like with every other tradition, she doesn’t ‘get’ it, plus she’s trying to get the people of Lumentis to accept her, so she’s trying to look more like them, despite failing because of her red hair.

Raito, honestly, doesn’t have any sort of change in either of his outfits, because there’s no point in changing perfection.  I love staring at him, because he looks adorable, lol.

Clover I did change a bit, shortening her sleeves, giving her a shoulder guard, and giving her a proper belt and a sash because it didn’t look right with just the belt.  Oh, and shortened her braid a little while also giving her a ribbon that happens to be the favorite color of a certain Dragon Tamer.  >.>  She looks just as badass as she did before, and I love it.  As for the other outfit, it’s supposed to be her Palace Guard uniform of sorts.  I had a bit of difficulty with it at first, because I wanted her to have the bodice, but giving her a skirt seems to have worked out nicely!  Bonus, it’s reminiscent of her original outfit, with the skirt and all.  Not really, but that was what I as thinking when I decided to give her the skirt.  I also like it because she looks feminine in her uniform, but in reality, she wants to wear pants.  But she looks great either way!   I love my nature elf warrior girl.

Odessa, well, I changed a lot, obviously.  She always suffers due to the fact that I can never pin down her design.  I liked her other outfit, but this one just suits her better.  I changed a bit of her backstory as well, which explains (sort of) why she went from shaved hair to side braided hair.  I also like the longer hair – it makes her look cute.  As for her outfit, I really like how it ended up!  I don’t have any real definitive ‘look’ for the peasants of the story, save for the Altaitians who have a Viking look, but I like that it suggests that the Ta’Norians have their own style as well.  And she gets a nice dress as well, sort of related to her backstory, but mostly because they do give her a nice dress when they make it back to the Lumentian palace.  Plus, it haves the added bonus of showing what her hair looks like down and how long it was.  (I wanted it to be longer, but I wanted Clover to have the longer hair, since I thought it would be funny if the more masculine one had the longer hair.)

Over all, really pleased with how all of these turned out.  I keep staring at the designs and wishing I had pictures of them, despite the fact that I should be the one drawing them, lol. 

[cha-melodius]

OMG I remembered I have another ask for you: I can’t seem to find The Man from Uncle to watch in the UK, which is a shame bc I want to read your fics about it and also Henry Cavill gets me all 🫠 ever since he wore a henley on Superman. So, here’s my question: tell me a little bit about it? A little backstory on Napollya (iirc from your posts 😂) so that maybe I can just enjoy the fics? Pretty please? x

Back in action for asks! *cracks knuckles*

I would love to give you some backstory! (Also, if any of my TMFU folks are reading this and know where to stream it in the UK, please chime in!)

The good news is that for a lot of my AUs you probably don't need a huge amount of the background to appreciate the dynamic. It's a pretty classic enemies to friends to lovers setup, with the added bonus that (in the movie) they are actually true enemies rather than just people who dislike each other haha. I am going to put the rest of this behind a cut—no major spoilers for the movie, but it's gonna get long lol. So if anyone else also wants a character rundown + some important stuff about their dynamic so they can dive into some of my other fics, here's your primer!

Ok, so character rundown:

Napoleon Solo: aka "Cowboy," aka "The CIA's finest", formerly a top tier art thief who no one could catch, until he finally tripped up and got arrested. The CIA plucked him out of prison to work for them, and his handler still treats him like criminal dirt. Enjoys fancy cooking, classic yet fashionable suits, is utterly charming, a massive flirt, supposed to be the 'womanizer' but consistently shows a refreshing respect for women (especially given the James Bond comparison).

Illya Kuryakin: aka "Peril", aka "The youngest person to join the KGB", a giant (6'5"), inhumanly strong, super hostile and gruff exterior, surprisingly bad liar, polite king to little old ladies, actually softer than a marshmallow on the inside. His father was a Soviet official who got thrown in the gulag when he was a kid for embezzlement, forcing his mother into a kind of prostitution to survive. Probably resulting from that trauma, he suffers from dissociative episodes when he gets extremely upset in which he does things like trashes hotel rooms (his hands shake when he feels one coming on). Manipulated by his handler with threats of being sent to the gulag like his father. Favors turtlenecks and simple outfits, also a fashion snob. Extremely attached to his father's watch, which he wears.

Gaby Teller: aka "Chop Shop Girl", East German auto mechanic who's father was a nuclear scientist pulled out of Germany by the Americans during the war, leaving her behind as a kid. No-nonsense, prefers slacks when dressing herself, sometimes plays mother to our bickering boys. Possible alcohol problems.

Alexander Waverly: British Naval Intelligence, ultimately organizing the operation, a bit of an asshole but in a charming way, keeps together the team at the end as UNCLE (independent spy organization).

Victoria Vinciguerra: The evil mastermind. Napoleon sleeps with her at one point to save the operation, later she drugs him and leaves him to be tortured. Very tall, very fashionable.

Also other minor character you may come across in AUs: Oleg (Illya's KGB handler), Sanders (Napoleon's CIA handler), Alexander Vinciguerra (Victoria's husband), Rudi Teller (Gaby's Nazi uncle).

The main thrust of the movie is that Napoleon and Illya are both sent to East Berlin to try to extract Gaby for their own purposes, only to learn that they will actually be force to work as a team to take down the bad guys. They actively try to kill each other in not just their first but also second meeting. There's a scene where they argue over fashion while buying Gaby a new wardrobe that is *chef's kiss*. Extreme levels of banter and snark in every interaction. BUT, as these things go, they gain a grudging respect for each other. Napoleon saves Illya's life, Illya saves Napoleon's life. They work together as a team exceptionally well. By the end, they are trading extremely fond insults. There are moments of self-sacrificial plays to save a teammate you're not even supposed to like, gift giving, betraying your principles/agency for the other person. There is a canonical will-they-won't they between Illya and Gaby during the movie (one of the reasons another major ship in this fandom is an ot3 between them), but nothing actually happens.

I think that basically sums up their dynamic and gives you the backstory you'd need for the AUs especially. For the post-canon ones it's a little tricker since I'd rather not give away the main twist of the movie, BUT a lot of them are kind of "in the future working as a team already" setup that don't really reference movie events, so you'd honestly probably be fine there too.

All right, that's a lot of text lol. I hope it helps, and I hope you enjoy the fics if you decide to dive in!

[episodicnostalgia]

Spider-man: The Animated Series, 108 (Apr. 29, 1995) - “The Alien Costume, Part One”

Teleplay by: Len Wein, Meg Mclaughlin, Stan Berkowitz, & John Semper Jr. Story By: Avi Arad Directed by: Bob Richardson

The Breakdown

It’s the story of the century!  Beloved Astronaut John Jameson (nice-guy-son of major-dickweed J. Jonah Jameson) is undergoing an exploratory mission of some asteroid that happened to be passing by.  John discovers a fancy black rock embedded in the asteroid’s surface, that seeps a black ooze after being pried loose (whaddaya wanna bet that’s going to be important later on?). Unfortunately for our boy, his actions somehow trigger a volcanic response, which is nonsense, but it gives john a reason to escape back to his shuttle with the rock and hurry the plot along, so I’m all for it.

The rock is, in fact, a newly discovered super-powerful radioactive mineral called “promethium X”, but it’s predominantly a McGuffin for Wilson Fisk (aka the Kingpin) to cause trouble over.  But none of that really matters, because the main attraction was always the introduction of…. RHINO!  Oh, and possibly Venom’s backstory for those of you who are into obscure niche characters. Speaking of which…

Back on the shuttle, the goo starts attacking John and his partner, JUST as they’re re-entering earth’s atmosphere (which is admittedly not ideal).  Capable dude that he is, John succeeds  resist the goo’s attempt to envelop him, just long enough to make an emergency crash landing on the George Washington bridge which has been completely-evacuated-and-no-one-died.

Enter Peter/Spidey, who shows up to help rescue the astronauts from the wreckage, although not without incident, because Rhino shows up to steal the promethium X for Fisk.  The ensuing fight does not go well for Spider-man, but thankfully Rhino doesn’t have time get lethal, since Fisk is eager to  retrieve his prize (to be fair, Rhino does seem like the sort of guy who could get easily sidetracked).  Without an active opponent, Spidey has just enough time to rescue John and his partner (the goo being nowhere in sight), before getting dragged off the bridge and into the river with the teetering space shuttle.  Spider-man swims to safety handily enough, but his suit is covered in a black substance that he mistakes for pollution.  Gosh, I wonder if it’s the alien goo from the space shuttle?

Predictably, yes it is.

That night, the goo jumps off Pete’s spider-suit and attaches itself to him.  After waking up from a freaky (but VERY metaphorically relevant) dream, Peter finds himself hanging upside down from a web (not unlike how like a spider can), and what’s more, sporting a sharp new black ‘n white spider-themed suit.  An impromptu test run reveals that the suit not only looks totally fucking SICK, but also amplifies his superpowers (plus the ability to generate it’s own webbing); additionally it can also morph into any other clothing Peter wants simply by reading his thoughts. Neat! No need to consider the horrifying ramifications of THAT any further! In spite of how alarmed he almost certainly should be, Pete ultimately takes everything in stride once the initial shock wears off, quickly brandishing a newfound (and curiously aggressive) confidence.

But there isn’t any time to bask in this new development since the Rhino is still at large, and he’s doing some more crime for Fisk in regard to that whole Promethium X thing.  Armed with his new black suit, Spidey sets out to confront Rhino, and this time he completely dominates a little TOO well.  In fact, as the fight progresses, Spider-man begins employing tactics that could be seen as excessive.  Just as our hero is about to administer a killing blow, he snaps out of his bloodlust, and leaves before doing something he can’t take back.  Shortly thereafter, Spider-man reflects on how close he came to taking a life, and is left to wonder if something is… happening to him?  Oh yeah, a there’s also a flash of lighting that symbolically alters Spider-man’s reflection into that of Venom, which does seem fairly ominous, but it's anyone’s guess as to how that could be relevant.

Guess we’ll have to wait for answers though, because…

TO BE CONTINUED!

The Verdict 

This story arch was one of my favourites back in the day, which is in no small part due to the symbiote.  In the comics the suit stuck around as a character/element for quite a while before it became Venom, and the resulting lore that stemmed from that caught my imagination as a kid. Naturally the story had to be pared down for TV, but this show does an admirable job of reworking the complex origin of the comics, into something a little less convoluted [which includes battles on alien worlds, and a whacky mix-up with the costume-fixing-device, and I’m not even making any of that up], without outright cutting the extra-terrestrial angle. Many subsequent re-telling’s have often lean towards establishing the symbiote as a man-made-bio-suit-gone-wrong, which I personally find less interesting.

Although even as the first-of-three-chapters, there are a lot of pieces being juggled here, and while it can feel a bit rushed, you’ve gotta admire how much information is being effectively conveyed in 20 minutes of children’s programming.  I believe this was the show that introduced (or at least developed) the idea that the Symbiote causes the host to become aggressive, and it’s a story telling choice that adds some real urgency to Spider-man’s circumstances.  This is likewise an ideal story to introduce less complex characters like Rhino, who don’t particularly need a whole episode dedicated to explaining them [more on this in the ‘additional observations’ section], leaving more room to focus on Peter.

The animation quality in this episode seems improved as well, and I’m guessing it may have been afforded a slightly higher budget.  Whatever the reason, there’s some pretty strong imagery all throughout the episode, some of which even would go on to be borrowed in Sam Raimi’s ‘Spider-man 3’ (for better or for worse).  At the same time, the story suffers as much as it benefits from the aforementioned-breakneck pace, and while it’s consistently entertaining, the script (as per usual on this show) tends to sprint through the emotional beats.  That’s not a condemnation of the episode though, so much as an acknowledgment of what it is, well made, chaotically imaginative escapism for children.

3.5 (out of 5) stars

Additional Observations

the Black suit is a such a great look, and may be the only variant spider-costume (at least for Peter Parker) that comes close to matching the iconography of the original red ‘n blue.  I only wish they could have extended the symbiote-saga for an entire season, but I’m sure that would have cost too much to animate, since it would have ruled out recycling character animation from previous episodes.

There’s a nice bit of foreshadowing where John is being enveloped by the Symbiote, and he screams, causing the goo to recoil. [For those who don’t know, the symbiote is famously sensitive to loud sounds] causing it to lose cohesion.  I realize it’s kind of silly that any human scream would qualify as loud enough to weaken Venom, but works nicely for a kids cartoon, as a little easter egg for young audiences to notice on repeat viewings.  And maybe John took some opera training back in the day.  You don’t know!

Promethium X: I guess the scientific-naming-committee was feeling a bit dramatic that day. The poetic imagery must have been too much for them to pass up.

Fun fact: Issue #1 of the Amazing Spider-man features a story where Spider-man tries to help John Jameson safely land his space vessel (been a while since I’ve read it, but that’s the gist).  I’m assuming that issue inspired the inclusion of John in this episode as a tactically chosen homage.

I kind of love that this show never really delves into Rhino’s deal.  He’s just kinda there, like we’re simply meant to accept him at face value, and it works like a hot damn.  I seem to recall ‘Spectacular Spider-man’ did a bit more with the character, and that entire series is gold, so I’d never discourage anyone’s attempt to tell a really great Rhino story, should it strike their fancy.  But nine-times-out-of-ten he’s just used (and functions as) a super strong guy in a military grade anthropomorphic rhino suit, and that’s also fine; He does undeniably look like a big strong Evil-Rhino-Man, after all. I have no follow up questions, and never once felt the show missed out on an opportunity to flesh out his origin.

[winderlylandchime]

(Lets all say a silent thank you to my cousin who suggested that I record him at major moments last week) 2/3And Brian said there’s nothing noble about being poor. (And my brother lost his mind. Im glad you gave me a heads up that you guys were wondering about this scene so i could film him) ‘Wait!!!!! hold up!!! Pause it! I’ve had thoughts about brian and money and *waves his hands while fast walking* stuff but I need my laptop! (he has over 20 google tabs opened with research about colleges in Pittsburgh that could do marketing degrees, how much it would cost and shit like that. One tab was also ‘how to learn to play violin in less than a week’ he said he wanted to see if its really that hard) Okay so! I’ve been thinking A LOT about this. So Mike said they were in the same school, remember? But Mike dropped out or something like that from college which to be fair, so did I and I think I’m doing fantastic, haters that go by the name mom and dad may disagree but I’m here for a fun time not to cure cancer, anyway back to Brian. Brian has this big fancy wearing suit type of job and he’s a partner remember? So that unfortunately demands a resume with big words on it like “college”. So Brian definitely went to college and he obviously worked his ass off since clearly him and Mike are nowhere near each other cash wise. I mean a loft like that? That he probably owns? At 30? Plus the suit wearing job? Yeah, he did a lot of work and probably even had straight As. Probably even in high school so he could get into college AND like how he keeps going at Justin for school? Remember him being impressed by his SATs and how he would make him study like crazy. Shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he even quizzed him during sex. Poor Justin for sure got a boner while taking a test. Wait im getting distracted! Anyway his *gags* dad also took money for him AND HE HAD IT FUCKING READY! He went to see him and he already had it ready! And just before his nephew said Brians sister says he doesnt give them any money which clearly not true to some level but clearly they saw him make money and they took it. And we both know that house was on fire! It was burning every day! This dude made it out alive but he most definitely got 3rd degree burns. So he for sure knew the only way out was to turn 18 and get into college far away and then never come back unless it’s for a funeral to make 100% sure that they are in in that box. So him saying there’s nothing noble about being poor is coming from a different place than what Justin is dealing with with that fucker. That dude is just a broke college student who got offered a deal that kinda sucks BUT he said it himself to Jen, his parents payed for shit, they supported him. Meanwhile Brian? Every single thing he has down to his drugs was bought by him. And i doubt he’d ever take anything from anyone because you know how shitty abusive parents are? They buy you a box of cereal once and then throw it in your face for 3 years straight. So he probably never got anything from his parents and if he did it came with a price *looks at paused Brian on tv and takes a deep breath* and probably some bruises too. So him saying and thinking that, is coming from a place of survival and “look what i did for myself” when everyone probably told him he’s never gonna be anything except maybe dead. And sure he clearly loves money and power since he’s even willing to work with that fucker but in some way can you blame him? He was powerless all his life. But if that would be Ethan who would say that? Now that’s different. It’s not exactly survival in the same sense *looks at me in worry* i fear, i lost the plot of the point..i will make it back but i need to think. *plays the episode again* ‘WHY WOULD THEY MAKE HIM JERK OFF TO RAGE?! No matter what he’s always gonna be obsessed with Brian. HE IS RUNNING WITH SPERM IN HIS CUP! RUN FORREST RUN. Is that really how this was done?’

WOW the character analysis from your brother… I personally think he’s spot on (I’ve given a lot of thought to Brian’s SES background and where he is financially and professionally at the start of the show… too much thought? Nah.) (Btw tell your brother some day that the fandom thinks Brian went to Carnegie Mellon - I love all his open tabs) And this is happening in parallel to Stockwell - Brian is clearly a take the money and who tf cares where it’s from because he had to be, he didn’t have any alternative. His advice makes perfect sense for him to have survived.

Cosign your brother’s analysis.

[castle-dominion]

don't tell my family but I want to try out liveblogging an ep I haven't seen before. Maybe it will make me finally Shut Up during the family watch

4x17 I think, once upon a crime.

little red riding hood lol I recognize that bridge from the spy episode I think Sexy big billowy red cape btw, oh & falls like a dame

It's like TUA I'd believe that. This a biography? Also as a mentally ill person heck yeah I love a good scribe! martha just taking over his office lol "I'd like to write another one"

RC: First Alexis is interning for Lanie, now my mother is taking over my office. (again, don't u remember life coaching in I think s1?) I feel like my whole life is being invaded. KB: You'll get used to it. I did.

Oh she's barefoot! & those are deep facial gashes LP: they're shallow Me: ?????? Castle obv it's little red riding hood, but the story was not a prophesy. KB: Great, Castle. I'll call in an APB for the Big Bad Wolf. RC: Do you have a better theory? [Beckett chews on her lip. She keeps walking.] KB: Hey, Ryan? [Ryan walks over. normal jacket, not a coat & not rly fancy, def not a dress coat, he has a scarf, no tie but pinkish shirt with white stripes.] KB: Do you think you could call dispatch, see if there are any reports of a violent animal running around the park? KR, castle jr: Like a wolf? A Big Bad one? KB: Really? KR: *points* That is exactly how I pictured her. It's freaky. My older sister used to read me that story.

RC: "…when he leaped up and gobbled down poor Little Red Riding Hood." Well, the good news is the Wolf can talk. So, if we can find him, we might be able to get a confession.

I love love love love love folktale, it is such an important part of folklore & culture. I want a Métis story at some point but we are such a small community that nobody is going to do it except us. But hey that's what fanfiction is for!

Ok why does esposito's hair keep growing? I prefer this to the hair in s3 but s1+2 hair was nice. I like how he has opinions on fairy tales at least. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would share that.

KB: Are you drinking Castle's Kool-Aid now? Oh btw espt's outfit: nice grey suit jacket with a square pattern on it, nice dark blue (but obv blue) shirt, dark desaturated blue tie with thin white stripes & thick grey stripes. Sometimes he comes to work looking like this, other times he is wearing what I'd wear as pyjamas.

Oh it's always the person the family member brings in with them. It's going to be this man. Also dang she needs to join a union or smth bc no human should be working 100h/week, no human should be working 80 hours a week, heck no human should be working 40 hours a week! We have machines & automation now, we have more PEOPLE now, why are we working MORE? We should all be living our lives singing & dancing & making music & drawing & painting & writing & conversing & sleeping & petting animals & cooking & eating & smiling. Besides, every job out there? Someone wants to do it. The world is a wonderful beautiful place (I say as a person with a severe case of major depressive disorder) full of love & fulfillment & community. It should not be a place where people work 100 hour work weeks.

Holy crap I'm not even at the titlecard! Capes are coming back into fashion! People have been talking about it lately! (beckett looks so... boring, so normal. I want her to look cool again, her pixie cut was good

Long hours high pressure? She's probably really into kink or smth. Or that steampunk bar. RC: There’s this whole adult role-playing subculture obsessed with fairytales. (castle...?) KB: RC: No-- not that kind of adult role play. Although, there’s that one, too. KB: And you know this how? RC: Did a little research. KB: 🤢 RC: (chuckle) Bo Peep. KB: ._. RC: Anyway, these people get dressed in the outfits, they play the characters, they even reenact the stories. Maybe that’s what Amy was doing when everything went horribly and tragically wrong. KB: Castle, that is a surprisingly reasonable and grounded theory. RC: Yeah. *JE enters* Frankly, I’m a little disappointed in myself. JE: We all are, bro. KB: : ) (I'm assuming that's disappointed in castle not "we all" as in disappointed in ourselves)

KB closeup: Contact her bank. See if they know why she made that withdrawal. JE heading out: As you wish. jafsdhajsdkfhas Apparently huertas & katic are both fans of the princess bride & so when they have beckett closeups huertas will respond with "as you wish" to make her laugh but this time they kept it in or scripted it in bc it's a fairy tale episode & I think that was cute af. yk I would actually think it would be great if espt was a princess bride fan. It's a story full of torture & sword fighting & politics & giants & war & pirates & revenge & poison & miracles & mountains & oceans & bloodthirsty eels & he gets the sexy lady in the end.

reminds me of that episode in murdoch mysteries. The guy spoke ojibwe & said ma'iingan but I, knowing some cree (& having context), figured out that it meant wolf since the cree word is mahikan. So proud of myself.

Ok I understand trying to blame a wolf but dressing her up as red riding hood? This was NOT for the purpose of pretending the killer is a wolf & getting away with it. Or maybe he drugged her with K & brought her to the park, maybe so he could hunt her & roleplay, maybe it was consensual nonconsent or smth, but then why would he drug her?

hOLY CRAP that is One Nice Vest! Look at that! Ryan has a beautiful vest with a blue back panel & omg is it nice, with that light pink shirt? (& those fkn eyes) Oof I think it suits him SO well. Who is the costume designer? Who dressed ryan? I need to speak with you & bake you a pie.

*casually uses a sexily tanned gal instead of idk like an anemic or smth* but then again black hair doesn't really occur in white ppl (except my gramma but she's technically Métis)

OH SO ONLY NOW IS THE INTRO? I FEEL LIKE I'M ALREADY A THIRD OF THE WAY THROUGH THE EPISODE

ok also what's going on with ryan's hair? he looks like me rn, we both need to cut our hair, I have a mohawk but I'm brushing it back instead of up bc it's too long (I have thin hair, product sometimes just weighs it down)

I might actually call them a spree killer bc of the closer proximity in time & location Ok I always thought that it was just esposito furrowing his eyebrows but I think that's actually a scar that jon huertas has & now I feel bad lol Lunch at what time? (thanks ryan) wait I just had a thought: don't look into the victim, look into the killer. Evil stepmother & big bad wolf? What is in common with them?

at least ryan says "excuse me" before taking his call, unlike OTHER people That's a palindrome number. 50 605? Ryan *just standing there with his head in the door*

AC: about you too *taps her dad's nose* WAIT SHE DID MAKE EXAGGERATIONS RIGHT? BUT DID MARTHA REALLY SLEEP WITH HIS FIRST PUBLISHER? OH PLEASE LET THAT BE TRUE Oh well at least it was after the book was out......... StiLL, WhAT Castle *pours himself a finger of scotch after seeing his mom flirt with the playwrite younger than him* Martha: Oh, darling, I invited Beckett to the reading tomorrow night, so you two might want to make a date of it. Rick: *pours more booze*

Remember when rick said "if I ever choose to write a biography remind me to Not"? Yeah Martha is doing it now KB: Oh, so you don’t like it when someone writes their own version of your life? Interesting. RC: Okay, are you referring to the Nikki Heat books? Because this is completely different.

oh fu heck yes ryan in that pink shirt that's so good. Maybe the costume design is putting him in so much pink lately bc he just got married. & then esposito with his layers upon layers? He's breaking down the homo headcanon/au in favour of a bi one with all them those layers. it's going to be martha's acting studio

Woah ok this is interesting camera work, I'm on my period & I have a headache & I'm in pain & I'm overheating & so I feel nauseous, this camera work is not the best for me rn. But hey espt & ryan have p big guns & their vests are black & called nypd not blue & police. But the other ppl (who are actually wearing helmets) do say police. Yay ryan gets to break the door this time

Oof I Looooove a creepy doll, I love haunted dolls I love creepy collections of things I love my auntie doris's house with all her creepy dolls i love my bone collection, also poor ryan with a fear of dolls ever since he watched that movie as a kid lmao

she's so right tho. She was coming to the door she was just slow! Tho she could have said "coming" ig. Maybe she was waiting to hear another knock on the door. Ooh yk I'd like to have a teenager in their room not notice breaking down the door bc they are listening to loud music. or a deaf person. I'd love that. having been an emo teen & also being deaf. I love when they break down old ladies' doors & they offer them candy or tea & cats Ji: No, dearie, nobody else lives here, just me and my friends. KR: *looks up at all the dolls, then looks down again in deep discomfort* (ngl I love seeing him uncomfy like this. this is why i read fanfiction. i get to put characters in pain or i get to put them in comfort, either way it is cathartic.) "Yes they are" "I can't imagine" Ji: Do I look like someone who has a habit of wasting money? I—I’m on a fixed income. the dolls: *sitting on every available surface* *slowly removes a doll from behind his back* Yep, keep it in your bra babes.

I was totally expecting her to send EACH of the cops home (or at least each of the detectives home) with a doll or a small figurine

JE+KR: On it *look at each other in jinx*

castle writer moments yeah of course she would have withdrawn the-- WAIT THAT'S HOW YOU FIND & PROTECT HER

Jessie: I’ve never been questioned by cops before. You mind if I tweet about this? KR: ??? Uh, yeah, yes, we—we do mind.

I thought maybe the third woman killed them like the table of last supper electroplating sex worker story from murdoch mysteries. Maybe this third friend just woke up from a coma & used to actually be friends with them but these two friends stabbed her in the back while she was coma'd.

that was NOT typing was it? Who types like that? Is castle on the phone at the same time ?? Oh wait i'm dumb, I THOUGHT he was calling someone else but I doubted myself

Charlotte's already dead Nice angel wing Yep she be dead. NOPE SHE'S ALIVE what if it was suicide?

KB: So, what, you’re Prince Charming now? RC: Well, if the shoe fits obv the 4th is the killer but who are they? SEE I TOLD YOU 50605 the killer really does have a psychological motivation

Ooh I love photograph nerds oof welp he def can't be the killer but-- hold on, 6th of may 2005? in USA speak that's 05/06/05! (in normal speak it's 6/05/'05). I'm guessing the police report is about his death? Those three did smth to get him killed? I didn't know ikwydls was from 97, I got ads for it on youtube, must have been a remake. I was actually thinking of that.

I still think she did it, it was a spree-murder-suicide. Where are her injection marks? Girl don't mix drugs if u don't know what u'r doing Yeah b'y they were kids with a lot to lose Maybe he never intended for you to live & just thought he could get money out of it at the same time

You know I want an adhd killer/victim who can't be tracked bc they keep forgetting to put the money in the bank, or castle thinks the victim is a spy bc they keep losing their toothbrush & buying new ones, I want them to say "it wasnt [adhd killer] because look at how they acted in the interview" but it's just emotional dysregulation, I want them to think "[adhd killer] never would have been able to do xyz bc they're not smart enough, they didn't even finish high school" but [adhd killer] had a hyperfixation on that thing & is really skilled at that thing, I want the ME to say "there is a bunch of drug residue on them" & then beckett assumes they were on or selling drugs but when ME runs tox "they were on a prescription dosage" Or maybe I want a busker who gets paid in cash so they think it's money laundering or smth when they're actually a fiddler.

Called it. husband that the sister brought in.

(ryan always gets played off as the feminine one but he is not necessarily, his voice gets so deep sometimes but in such a way it gives me gender envy, his voice seems to have a wider range of speaking voice than esposito but because of this sometimes I can't tell which one is talking)

Ok he's lying? Yeah he did it wait... he only blackmailed & didn't killl...

yo always get a lawyer y'all, don't ever talk to cops. I THOUGHT IT COULD HAVE BEEN THE SISTER, I KNEW IT. Or no, the way she's scting, it's too much to be an act. (I say knowing this is fiction.) why is nobody breaking up this fight? Maybe bc they hate him maybe bc she's a girl (& apparently teachers are told to break up fights between boys but not get between girls)

KB: Don’t underestimate him. I mean, the only reason that he copped to the blackmail was to avoid murder charges. And like any psychopath, he’s a great actor. Oh, speaking of… RC: Psychopaths or actors? KB: I was thinking about your mom. RC: Oh, so a little of both. KB: I think we can make the play. RC: Really? So you want to venture into the dark, scary woods? KB: Don’t worry, Castle. I got a gun. I’ll protect you from the Big Bad Wolf. RC: You’d use your gun on my mother? KB: RC: I’m touched. Thank you. KB:

Slip-on shoes are the way to go

What bow? Whose bow?

Was it her? Can't be her I already ruled that out. Where was she injected? Unless it wasn't a suicide attempt but just an overdose to get the cops' eyes off her She is getting teary but not crying bc she's faking & she just Can't Quite Cry whut that makes very little sense tbh Why would you kill two more ppl if you're trying to save your life? I mean unless u got away with it by successfully playing the victim She's literally in the hospital

What the fudge I love the way ryan is walking backwards, point for the adhd headcanon (gosh has roofing taught me nothing? Even in the kitchen I walk backwards) Wow sappy af. (I love the way rysposito look at each other) what's castle got there? a recording device to prove beckett is actually a softie? Little peace sign up there

"Hey I'm right here" The role of a mother <3 *living in his house* *holds his hand*

Ok so I think I like watching it first bc I can write my theories without forgetting them but it might be shorter if I watch it first & then I always notice stuff more the second time through & I can make note of that stuff for future reference when I know it doesn't make sense

I also realize that I probably should have skipped a few episodes so I'm not watching the same one twice in one day but rather have some time in between. idk when mum is coming home so maybe I can watch another one but from way later in the season. Probably not tho since it will take MORE than half an hour.

I do think that maybe it will let me SHUT UP during the show or it will make me overly talkative once I know how it works. Maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut bc I don't feel the need to share my theories or I'll be afraid of spoiling so I'll actually be quiet for once

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

[snowflakeanimelover]

Hello Dear Kate!

CONGRATULATIONS WITH 225 FOLLOWERS!

I'm really happy and pround of you! Honestly, I think you deserved them all!

Also...May I, if it's okay, ask for...Part 4 of Platonic Yandere! Mafia! Whitebeard Pirates with Teen! Reader?..

After Y/n find out about them, she eventually did everything she could to stay at home isolated from anyone's eyes. By that I mean - she always closes windows no matter of weather or time, always closes doors behind her and even actually tried to eat something unhealthy so she could have a reason to stay in bed from education.

I just really wonder what would they do? Would they will talk to her face to face? Or, they use other method?.

Sorry if it's too much to ask but I just really love how you describe them.

Anyway, have a great day!

Thank you, Cherry!! That is very kind of you to say. *Cries in happiness* I still ask myself how I got so many followers. More importantly, how so many people like my writing...

No matter what, it makes me super happy that my writing is good. This means it'll be a good push towards my dream job. Thanks again for your amazing comments. Nothing else can make me happier.

*WARNING: Yandere. Kidnapping.*

Yandere Whitebeard Stalk HCs Part 4

(Y/N) was so cautious.

Always peeking out the curtains that covered her windows. She even had them locked. Her doors were locked.

She couldn't trust anyone.

So many thoughts went through her head. Who were those guys? Why were they chasing her?

The main thing she noticed was the clothes the men wore when she looked through the slightly opened door. They certainly dressed fancy. Fancy suits and ties. Some wore top hats, as well. The only major people she could think of was the Mafia.

Were those guys from... the Mafia...? If so, then why watch her when she has never met them before?

She knew that tall guy looked a little familiar.... He was the man she bumped into the other night!

As far as she knows, she had to stay in a safe place. And that safe place was home. For days she called in to her school for being sick.

A few weeks later, she feels like the men have lost interest in her. She didn't see any men out of her windows or near her home. So, she has put her guard down. Going into stores and back to school.

But that was a horrible mistake.

A man she has never seen before pops up before her as she was leaving the school. Not to mention the fancy suit he was wearing.

"Hey there!"

She screams, remembering he was one of the men who took her family. She turns, running away. But a hand grabs her arm, the other planting a cloth around her mouth.

"We won't be having any of that..." Ace smiles, trying to hold onto the wild girl.

The girl got sluggish as seconds passed, her teary eyes closing slowly. Her body then goes limp in Ace's arms when darkness takes over her consciousness.

[theconstantsidekick]

Hiiii! I got a request for the Static Verse. Maybe Static goes on a mission and gets shot or hurt but still sompletes the mission perfectly with a proud Bucky! :> (sorry my adhd brain doesn't know vague)

I have once again made this a much bigger thing than originally requested. I'm kinda sorry, but I do hope you like it. Lemme know what you think :)

Of Gucci Suits and Weirdos

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Sam Wilson x Stark!Reader (platonic homies), Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Past!Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader (mentioned)

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Canon Typical Violence.

“Guys, we have a problem,” Joaquin says into the comms.

“How big of a problem?” Sam asks him. He sounds annoyed, which is fair. This is very annoying.

He looks back at the scene behind him. “Ugh… It’s the size of a bullet.”

“Fuck!” He hears Bucky curse over the comms. “Is she okay?”

The fact that the man already knows Y/n is the one who’s been hit is kinda astonishing, but who is Joaquin to question it?

“I mean, mostly she seems pissed off,” Joaquin notes, kneeling down. Crouching over her, he tries to stop the bleeding as she continues to shoot from where she sits, covering both their asses.

“Where’s she hit?” Bucky asks, panting. He’s running over to their location, Joaquin guesses.

Before he can respond though, there are more intruders spilling into the room they are currently hiding in, so he has to rush over and take care of them.

“TORRES! Where is she hit?” Bucky yells.

God, talk about an overprotective boyfriend.

Rolling his eyes, he answers, “Lower abdomen. There isn’t too much blood. I’m guessing it missed most of the major organs.” He turns back to her, having gotten rid of the assailants. What he sees confuses him a little, because currently she’s trying to control her breathing with her eyes closed. “Y/n?” He calls out, falling on his knees next to her. “Y/n?” He gets no response. “Okay, this is getting weirder. She just looks like she’s pissed and doing breathing exercises.”

“Torres,” Bucky’s voice chimes in over the comms, and unlike before, he sounds painfully hesitant. He sounds worried. Joaquin thinks he can’t blame him, but then the man adds, “What is she wearing?”

Really? At a time like this? Joaquin thinks.

These two can merrily sex each other up, but he’d prefer if they did it off the clock and without him in the damn mix.

“What?” He asks, incredulous.

“What is she wearing?” Bucky repeats.

“No offense, Sergeant Barnes, but this really isn’t the time,” Joaquin chides.

“Just tell him what she’s wearing, man,” Sam tells him.

Grumbling, looking at her, Joaquin replies, “Uhh… I don’t know, a suit.”

Sam, Bucky and him were on a mission, taking care of some mid level crime syndicate. But the syndicate had some delicate documents hiding in their safe rigged with explosives which none of them could crack without blowing up the whole thing which would have undoubtedly ruined the documents inside. So, long story short they called Y/n in at the last minute as a hail mary hoping she could open the safe, which she did with ease. But her rush to get here meant she didn’t have the time to change out of her fancy clothes.

Joaquin will forever remain in awe of how gracefully this woman seems to be able to fight in heeled boots and a killer suit. He’s a fan. Why wouldn’t he be?

Or maybe he just likes people in suits.

Maybe that’s his thing.

Because Malcolm used to pull off suits too well for his own good. But then, he ventures, Malcolm could’ve pulled off anything in his opinion.

“She’s always wearing a damn suit, smartass,” Bucky bites back, pulling him out of his reverie. “Which one?”

What the hell is he supposed to reply to that?

“Uh, I don’t know, damn it! It’s a suit. It’s blue with floral print—”

“Yeah, Torres, get out of there,” Bucky cuts him off.

“There’s a little too much resistance outside, I can’t carry her with me—”

“No. I mean, you get out of there,” Bucky tells him. “Just you.”

“Excuse me?” He balks.

“Get out of there, man. I mean it,” Bucky reiterates.

Holy fuck.

Getting up from next to her, he walks over to the corner of the room. Lowering his voice he asks, “You want me to leave your girlfriend behind?”

He’s completely confounded.

The last time she got shot, Bucky almost ripped Malcolm’s head off, and now he’s asking him to abandon her?

“No, I’m asking you to evacuate,” Bucky answers.

“I can’t just—”

“Do as he says, Joaquin. Leave her there and get out, as fast as you can,” Sam commands.

“But—”

“That’s an order,” Sam states with finality.

This whole group is crazy. Joaquin doesn’t even know why he hangs out with them anymore. One minute they are ready to rip people’s throats out with their teeth to save each other, the other minute they ask you to abandon one of them in the middle of a mission while being surrounded by members of the Red Dragon Crime Syndicate.

He turns around to look at her but is pretty damn surprised to find her already on her feet.

“They’re asking me to leave you behind,” he tells her solemnly.

Her jaw is clenched, hard. Her eyes are set at the door, there’s rage radiating off of her waves. “Then you better listen to your Captain, boy,” she says in a funny little Texan accent.

“What?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Listen to your Captain and run,” she says. When he takes no action to move, she turns to him. “I said, git!”

The sheer force of her anger makes Joaquin stumble a bit, before turning around and breaking into a run, breaking through a window and carving a path for himself. He doesn’t stop till he’s outside the building and greeted with the sight of Bucky and Sam standing there having a casual fucking conversation.

“She’s still in there,” he informs them, rushed.

Bucky looks at him then, “Oh. Yeah,” he says dismissively. “It’s fine. She’ll be out in a minute.”

Okay, he’s gonna lose it now.

“You’re all crazy! You,” he points at Sam. “I watched you rip into Ross with no remorse cause he upset her by calling her ‘not an ideal hero’ which, I have to admit, was pretty fun to watch but that’s beside the point.” He turns to Bucky, pointing at him now. “And you! I watched you stab a guy in the eye for looking at her funny,” he says, arms flailing. “And both of you just left her in there?! What the fuck is that about? She’s hurt, she can’t just glitch out of there. What the hell guys?”

Both men are looking at him with their mouths agape.

The silence stretches on until—

“We didn’t leave her in there,” Sam states calmly.

“We asked you to evacuate to save yourself from—” Bucky points behind him. And at that, he turns, just in time to witness the explosion.

What starts out as a few small flames in the northwest corner of the building almost immediately spirals into a full-fledged fire throughout the building as more and more explosions begin to sound out. And in front of it all is Y/n Stark, stomping towards them as the building behind her is being reduced to ash.

“—that,” Bucky finishes, passing him by to run over to his girl. “Hey sweetheart,” Bucky greets her, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so well.” He drops a kiss on her head. “You okay, sweetheart?”

As both he and Sam walk over to the couple, he can hear a muffled complaint slip out from her into his chest, “They ruined my suit, Jamie.”

All this over a fucking suit?

“I know, baby,” Bucky cooes at her. “I know. We’ll get you a new one.”

“It was limited edition,” she whines. And then suddenly her demeanor shifts. “It’s all your fault!” She accuses, pulling away from Bucky to point at Sam.

“How the fuck is it my fault?” Sam throws back.

“You’re the one who called me in!” She exclaims, Bucky holding her back.

“Who the fuck told you to wear a—what is that?” Sam begins assessing her outfit. “Is that a goddamn Gucci suit?” He sounds absolutely incredulous, and yeah. Joaquin has to agree.

“I was having dinner with the fucking King of Asgard! What the fuck did you expect me to wear? Your stupid pizza PJs?” She bites back, feisty as ever.

“Hey! Hey! You don’t get to insult the pizza PJs!” Sam fights back, just as fierce. So much so, Bucky has to step in between the two as they approach each other.

“It’s your fucking fault, Wilson—”

“No, no, baby. It’s their fault,” Bucky tries to placate her, motioning back towards the burning building. “And they’re paying for it,” he assures her. “Not Sam, sweetheart. We like Sam,” he coerces her, rubbing at her sides. He looks over at the Captain, a little apprehensive, “He’ll help you patch this one up.”

“The hell I will,” Sam chides.

Her jaw clenches, “You know what, Samuel—”

“Sam will help!” Bucky interrupts, giving a pointed look at the younger man. “He’ll use all his Captain America charm and he’ll get this suit all prim and proper.” He then looks back at her, “And you are going to thank him for it.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument from either of them. And as expected, both of them mutely give a curt nod, agreeing to his terms. Satisfied with their compliance, his eyes fall onto her lower abdomen. “Now,” his hands pull away the suit jacket, “you okay?”

Sam rushes over, assessing her injury. “It doesn’t look that bad but we should get it checked out,” he says, voice coated in mild concern. “Is the bullet still insi—”

There’s a distinct clink as shell casing drops to the ground.

Looking up, Sam balks. “What the fuck have I told you about pulling bullets out of your wounds?”

Below him, Bucky, on his knees, grumbles with a similar amount of discontent, fiddling with her wound and making her wince a little. Behind them, the authorities begin to pile in. Police cars, paramedics alongside several fire brigades make their way inside the previously guarded area, situating themselves as per their convenience.

Meanwhile, Y/n bites back, unbothered by her wound and commotion behind her. “And what have I told you about calling me in on my days off?” Bucky stands up, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek which she pays him back for by playing with the short locks at the back of his head. “Why the fuck didn’t you call Steve? He’s good at cracking safes too. I fucking taught the dude.”

“He’s on a date,” Sam answers easily.

And oof. That was obviously the wrong answer because it stunts her for a second.

But only for a second, cause after that—

“So was I!” She shouts back, only to be met with three scrunched faces from the three men. “Technically,” she adds, correcting herself sheepishly.

Next to her Bucky clears her throat.

“Come on,” she reproaches, rolling her eyes. “It was Val, I’m not gonna fuck Val.” A beat. “... again.”

Um… what?

Apparently, Bucky shares his sentiment.

“What do you mean again?” He asks, absolutely astounded.

“You’ve slept with Valkyrie?” Sam questions at the same time. “How was it?” Curiosity is clear in his tone.

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky warns, pointing to Sam. His finger moves back to her, “Why wouldn’t you tell me about it?”

She shrugs, almost hesitant. “Just—It was, you know? It was a long time ago. Thor had just left. Carol was about to leave the next day and I was still…” She doesn’t finish the thought but all four of them know that she’s referring to her dealing with the loss of her brother, Tony Stark. “We were drinking that Asgardian mead, one thing led to another, and next thing you know,” she runs a hand through her hair, “we woke up in bed together.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

And then—

“YOU HAD A THREESOME WITH CAPTAIN MARVEL AND THE KING OF ASGARD?!” Bucky shouts at the same time, as Sam whistles proudly, yelling out. “Well done, hotshot!”

“Just the first time,” she defends instantly, only to realize what she just said when Bucky’s eyes widen. “I—I should go get my wound checked out,” she says in a rush, hurriedly walking past Sam and him. Bucky follows her.

“How was it?” Sam asks, turning around to look at her. Joaquin copies his actions.

“Don’t answer that!” Bucky scolds before continuing, “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I was before you,” she defends, walking towards the paramedics. “I did a lot of things before you.”

“So did I,” Bucky fights back. “Would you be okay with it if I had a threesome?”

That makes her steps halt. Turning around to look back at Bucky, she threatens, “You’re mine, James Buchanan Barnes. Mine. I am absolutely not sharing you. Ever. You hear me?” She walks over to him. “I didn’t tell you because I literally forgot about it till she reminded me today,” she admits. “Most of the night is a blur. Most nights from that time are…” After a second of pause, she shakes her head and then jabs a finger at him. “But you… You have me now. Okay? Everything before you doesn’t matter now, cause I have you and you have me… Does that work?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, that works.” Joaquin can’t see Bucky’s face right now but he can hear the smile in his words. “Now, do you want me to carry you over to the paramedics?” He asks.

“Yes please,” she pouts. And immediately Bucky complies, carrying her over while whispering to her about how proud he is of her for completing the mission with a bullet wound.

And yeah, a part of Joaquin remains speechless.

In this life—in their life, finding this kind of love—this kind of family is not just hard, it’s damn near impossible, or so he’s been told. The three of them, all three of them, bicker like kids, fight like ratty old people and protect each other like kin. He’s heard a lot about how this life only takes and takes from you but seeing what he’s seeing in front of him, he can’t bring himself to believe it. It’s not like the three of them haven’t lost anything. They have, they have lost a lot, too much even. But even then, they have this. This small little bickering, annoying family.

So, despite being told time and again, being warned relentlessly about how this life is nothing but pain and sacrifice, sometimes even from the people in question, he just won’t believe it. He’s lost love like this too, he didn’t even get to have it for long before he did lose it. But that just fuels him, even more, to stick around. Because contrary to all the warnings, he gets to have this. This silly little group of people who look out for each oth—

Wait. Hold on.

“Steve’s on a date?” he asks Sam, who’s wearing a smile on his face as they both stand there watching the couple. “Thought he was madly in love with her?”

“He isn’t,” Sam answers. When he turns to look at Sam in confusion, Sam faces him too. “On a date, I mean. He’s still totally in love with her,” he clarifies. With a sigh, his gaze flies back to the couple as he watches her get patched up. “He’s with Banner.”

“Then why’d you tell her he was on a date?”

Sam smiles, a coy, cunning smile. “Cause the next time they meet, she’ll rip him a brand new one and then I’ll be the last America’s ass standing,” he states before walking off towards Bucky and Y/n.

Huh.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe they’re just a group of fucking weirdos.

Maybe he fancies himself a fucking weirdo as well.

Read the previous installment to the series here. Read other Bucky One-Shots here. Find out who Malcolm is and how she met him here. Find other Static Verse works here.

tag list: @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @jakey-stan @justab-eautifulmess @agent-laufeyson @agentmstark @ceo-of-daichi @jn-wolf @eccentricxem @asimovethroughthisworld @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @goldenflickerx @itspetitfantomestuff @ironmansuucks @sidepartskinnyjeans @intothesoul @rue331 @thisisparadisemylove @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @geek-and-proud @jesuswasnotawhiteman @fckdeusername @bduchrnskei @mini-kunoichi @mischiefmanaged71 @third-broparcelicito @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @siwiecola

please feel free to send me an ask or a dm to be removed from or added to the tag list.

[sleepysnk]

i made this because honestly i could not get enough of dilf jean 😩❤ i hope you guys enjoy! ♡

Perfect Fit

Pairings: Dilf!Sugar Daddy!Jean Kirstein x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW

A giggle escaped (Y/N)'s lips as she watched Jean take another one of her shopping bags, he was already holding four or five of them around his forearms. 

"You sure you can hold all of that?" she asked, a smile on her features. 

Jean chuckled, "Of course, anything for you princess." 

Her cheeks grew warm from the nickname he had given her, Jean always treated her like a princess anyway; he got her anything she wanted. She was his sugar baby after all. According to Jean, she always deserved the best and the most amazing treatment.

"Where to now?" he asked, shoving his wallet into his pocket. 

She started to make her way down the street with him by her side, she wasn't exactly sure where she wanted to go. The two had been to almost every fancy store downtown and it was almost like she couldn't decide, almost like a little kid who got a million different candy choices. This time she got to pick the candy she wanted. 

"I'm not sure," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. 

Jean put his hand near the small of her back. "We can head back soon.. it has been a long day after all," he whispered, his voice husky. 

She felt a chill go down her spine. "Sounds good to me," she smirked. 

Jean caught the hint of amusement in her eyes, it was such a turn on for him. He loved the way she could look at him and make him harder than a rock, it was almost like her secret talent. 

He looked around the streets for other shops he could take her into, his eyes scanned over the different shops and clothing stores. Nothing really caught his eye, until his vision fell upon the dark maroon doors of the lingerie shop. 

His cock twitched at the idea of her in lingerie, she had always worn it for him whenever he asked, but it was always a turn on for him. He always ended up tearing it off and leaving the fabric all ripped, who could blame him? He just likes her that much. 

"(Y/N), love," he said, stopping her in her tracks. 

She turned to meet him. "What's up?" she asked, blinking. 

He nodded his head towards the lingerie shop next to them. "Let's go in here," he replied.

She eyed the shop, shock written all over her face. She was certain she had passed this shop many times before meeting Jean, and she did it for a reason, the lingerie was expensive and it didn't necessarily come cheap. 

"Okay.." she said, opening the doors, Jean following behind her. 

The smell of perfume filled their noses as they entered, it was warm, almost like a blanket was placed over the two. It was better than the fall air outside. 

Jean's eyes explored the different mannequins that had different lingerie placed on them, he could tell that it was the finest quality fabrics. It wasn't any kind of cheap thing a person could find online for $30, it was almost $190.

(Y/N) ran her fingers along the different bra and underwear sets, her mind wondering what she could try on or what color might fit her best. Jean always said she looked good in white or baby pink, he said it reminded him of an angel. 

"Jean?" she said, turning back to see him eyeing one of the body suits. 

His head turned towards her. "Yes? What's up? Did you find something you like?" he asked, nodding. 

She made her way towards him. "No, but I do want to try some things on. Should I start with this?" she said, running her fingers over the fabric. 

Jean blinked for a moment before speaking. "Yeah! Try it on, I want to see if it looks nice," he replied, holding it out for her. 

She took it from his hands and turned to make her way towards the dressing rooms, a few women stood around looking at the lingerie, others just gawked at the way Jean looked. Who could blame them though? He always looked good.

"Just one?" the worker asked, looking at (Y/N). 

She nodded, "Yes please," 

The worker led her to one of the dressing rooms near the far end, Jean trailing behind her with his phone in his hands. He was trying his best to distract the aching of his cock in his pants, but he couldn't help it, the idea of his sugar baby all dressed up for him made all the blood rush to his dick. 

"Let me know if you need any help princess," Jean said, leaning against the wall in front of the dressing room she was in. 

"I will!" she called back. 

Jean looked up from his phone and crossed his arms, he wanted to get back home as soon as possible to relieve this ache. If he didn't he just might have to fuck her in the car, but it'd be such a mess, especially with how the two of them are. 

An idea suddenly popped into his head, a dirty one too. 

He looked around the hallway he was in, the only visible people around were some of the women going into changing rooms or the one worker who seemed bored out of her mind just standing there. 

No one would catch him, right? He could always say she asked for help, plus it'd be quick.

Jean moved towards the door of the room, he could hear her shuffling around behind it. He assumed she was getting naked or somewhat nude, it'd be the perfect opportunity.

He knocked on the door. "(Y/N).. can I come in?" he asked, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. 

He felt the doorknob click, she had unlocked the door. "Mhm.." she hummed back. 

Jean opened the door and closed it as quick as he could, his eyes were filled with the sight of his sugar baby standing there with the lingerie on. 

Oh was it the sight.

It fit her perfectly, the swell of her breasts were outlined by the black material, black hearts covered her nippes, and it hugged her body. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked, blinking a bit.

Jean's mouth was slack, "N-No! You look.. so fucking sexy right now. I love it," he replied. 

She felt her cheeks growing warm, she always felt bashful around Jean; he had such a way with words that it always made butterflies form in her stomach. 

He plopped down in the small chair that was in the room, two mirrors faced each wall, giving Jean a view of both ends of her body. 

"Come here.." he said, patting the spot on his lap. 

She turned and sat down on his thigh, she felt a chill go down her spine as his hands began to explore the skin of her thighs. He played with the fabric near her cunt, which was starting to grow warm and pool with need. 

"J-Jean?" she said, her voice coming out almost like a whimper. 

His lips brushed against the skin of her neck, causing goosebumps to flare on her skin. "Do you like that..? It's very lewd of you to be turned on in a public place baby girl,"

A quiet moan escaped her mouth as his fingers found their way to her clit, her arousal pooled around it, soaking the lingerie she was wearing. 

"Jean.. please!" she cried, burying her face into the crook of his neck. 

Jean chuckled against her skin. "You gotta be quiet for me beautiful.. I don't want anyone to hear your pretty voice when I make you cum," he whispered. "Understand?"

She shook her head instantly. "Y-Yes.."

A smirk formed onto his face. "Good, now take this off. We can't ruin it now, can we?" he said, tugging at the material around her body. 

She stood for a second, peeling the lingerie off of her body. It dropped to the floor, leaving her naked and exposed in front of him. 

His cock twitched in his pants, he wanted to fuck her so badly. He knew deep down it was impossible to do it without any major noise, so he figured to do something small until they could get home and get the real show started. 

"Come sit here, this time facing the mirror," he said, moving the chair so it now sat in front of the mirror. 

She sat down on his lap, her back now pressing into his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his print pressing into her butt. 

Jean used his hands to spread her legs open, her feet now on his thighs, she was wide open for him and she could see it in the mirror. 

"Fuck me.. look at that pretty pussy," he said, spreading her lips apart to see her hot core; arousal pooling from it. 

She threw her head back as she felt his fingers circling her clit, bolts of electricity went through her stomach and down her spine almost instantly. 

"Jean.." she whimpered, digging her nails into his jacket. 

He nibbled on the shell of her ear. "You're such a good girl.. staying so quiet for me.. do you want my fingers in your pussy (Y/N)?" he asked. 

She bucked her hips as she felt his fingers go closer to the entrance of her pussy. "Jean, please! Go inside me.." she cried, squeezing her eyes shut. 

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "As you wish, pretty girl.." he replied, shoving two digits into her hot cavern. 

A loud moan came from her mouth, Jean's fingers filled her hole instantly, she was so wet for him. He could almost cum on the spot from just fingering her, her pussy was always so nice and warm, it drew him in whenever he wanted to fuck her. 

"Look at the mirror.." he ordered, putting his arm around her waist. 

She looked towards her reflection in front of her, Jean's fingers were knuckle deep inside of her cunt, the sight was turning her on; Jean could feel her walls squeezing around him. 

"B-Baby.." she moaned, putting her hand near his wrist to draw him deeper inside. 

Jean kissed her at her neck, slightly sucking on the skin. "Look at you.. being such a good girl for daddy, take my fucking fingers," he said, quickening the pace. 

She covered her mouth to suppress any noises that threatened to escape, she felt her body growing warm, and her vision going white whenever his fingers hit that spot inside of her. 

"Yes.. oh fuck.." she whimpered, looking into the reflection. She could see Jean staring right at her, his honey eyes were blown with lust and desire. 

"You wanna cum for me? I can feel you getting close.." Jean said, curling his fingers inside her wet cunt. "You're so wet for me.."

She lifted her hips to inch him deeper, her walls were sucking him in; squelching noises came from her pussy as he thrusted his fingers into her without hesitation. Her hand went to his cheek where she turned his face to meet hers, their lips crashing onto one another. 

She gasped as finger curled towards her g-spot, he took the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue. The kiss was sloppy, salvia formed around her mouth making their kisses smack. 

He pulled away, his eyes going down to her puffy lips. "Fuck, you are one pretty sight. I want you to cum all over my fingers," he said, licking his lips. 

She whimpered feeling his fingers quicken against her cunt, his thumb playing with her clit to double the pleasure. It was almost becoming too much, her body was twitching and the knot in her stomach was threatening to break any moment. 

"J-Jean! I'm close.." she cried, digging her nails into his wrist. 

His eyes went to the mirror, she looked so fucking sexy like that. She was crumbling beneath him, her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were parted with small moans coming from them. He could feel the way her walls fluttered around him, her orgasm was approaching.

He gripped at the skin of her waist, he pulled her tightly against him; his fingers thrusting into her at that same quick pace. Her moans began to fall from her mouth, she could barely form sentences at that point, the pleasure felt so good and she wanted to cum so bad. 

"Cum all over my fucking fingers baby.. you can do it," Jean cooed, nibbling on her ear. 

She let out a cry of pleasure as her orgasm took over her body, her walls tightening around his fingers; arousal coating them. Her thighs twitched and her breath became uneven from the effects.

"Good girl.."

She smiled to herself from the praise, she could barely stand from all of it. Her body was warm, a layer of sweat was glistening on her skin. 

"Suck," he said, holding his fingers near her lips. 

She opened her mouth letting his fingers slide in, her slick coating her tongue; the taste filling her mouth. 

Jean removed his fingers from her mouth, a trail of saliva connected from her lips to the tips. He rubbed off the spit and tapped her thigh. 

"Come on.. let's check out and get out of here," he said, sitting up in the chair. 

She stood on wobbly legs, she quickly threw on her clothes and picked up the lingerie which was hanging on the wall. Jean came over to her, pressing a kiss onto her cheek before heading towards the door of the dressing room. 

Jean took her hand into his, heading towards the checkout counter. The two stood waiting as the cashier began to scan the item, Jean's hand went to her ass, causing her to look up at him. 

"Let me get you another one.. this one is covered in something," the cashier said, smiling a bit. 

(Y/N)'s cheeks grew warm, a chuckle coming from Jean. "Weird! We didn't notice that," he replied. 

The cashier came over with the same lingerie. "Have a good day," she said, handing over the bag.

(Y/N) smiled and exited the store with Jean, embarrassment written all over her face. "That was.. not good," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. 

Jean chuckled, taking her hand into his. "I found it pretty amusing.. but we should finish what we started," he said, smirking. 

"Sounds like a plan to me.." she replied, looking up at him. 

Jean laughed before taking her towards the car.

[misericorsalvator]

[Henry’s frown deepens with each passing second in which the phone doesn’t connect. Outside, the lights of Paris cast their light on what has already been a long night, and looks to be even longer if the person on the other end doesn’t pick up. ...Hell, even if he does pick up, but at least then Henry’ll have one less thing keeping him wound up until daybreak. ...It’s not too late. He can still hang up. It hasn’t even gone to voice mail yet, could pin it on a butt dial or-

“Hunter.”

...Well, fuck that then. The voice on the other side of the phone is smooth, low, like soft rumble of an engine or the purr of a large cat. This is one of the few times Henry doesn’t respond to it with a groan of frustration.

“...Mr Shah.” Aiden, he’d nearly said, and the soft static of a rough connection breaks with an amused chuckle. As if he knows.

“You sound as cheerful as always, Mr Morgan. To what do I owe this phone call?”

Fuck... It takes all of Henry’s resolve not to hang up then and there, maybe toss the phone out the hotel window for good measure, as hesitation coils up in his chest, mingling with that all-too-familiar fear of indebtedness. But his laptop lights up with another message from Nero,  and he remembers why he’s doing this.

“There’s someone in Cardiff, a guy I know, looking for hunters. Italian, big scar on his face, wears a fancy suit-- can’t miss him.” There’s a thoughtful hum on the other end, urging him to continue. “He...means no harm, twmffat just wants to mess around. But--“

“But you’re worried he’ll mess around with the wrong people, and you want someone to keep an eye on him.”

Henry’s throat goes dry. There it is. The favour.

“...Aye.”, he nods, even though Aiden’s not here to see him. In his chest, the tension grows.

“You’re an odd one, Mr Morgan. In all my years, I’ve scarcely met hunters who can stand being around a single kindred without cutting off their head, much less one whose friends seem to be kindred in their majority.”

“Aye, well, turns out we’re not big fans of corpses in our backyard are we?”

...Fuck. Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to slip out, and the call falls quiet, only static without even the breathing. Now Aiden’s gonna hang up and congratu-fucking-lations, Henry-boy, you gave away Nero’s location and God knows what they’ll do to him because You Pissed Off the Goddamn Baron-

...But Aiden chuckles. The same as before, low and amused, and Henry can picture his shaking his head in that old, vintage office of his.

“I will be the first to admit, that man would not have targeted you if my people had been more...subtle in keeping tabs on you. Although, I trust you understand why I had to do that.”

“...Aye.”, his voice cracks, stunned in disbelief. Of course he understands. With his background, in a place with Cardiff’s...unique conditions, he was a liability. A risk. And Aiden had to look out for his people. Henry can respect that.

What he doesn’t understand is why Aiden hasn’t hung up yet, why instead of offended he sounds...entertained.

“It was a gesture of...repentance for the danger I put you in. But it’s been a while since I had to apologized to kine. My methods are a bit....rusty.” Rusty. Henry bites back a laugh. More like a cat dragging home a dead rat. ...Which, judging by the Baron’s clan and the tiger imagery scattered throughout his office... ...Oh.

“As a formal apology for the trouble the Barony of Cardiff has given you, I, Aiden Shah, extend my protection to your friend while he’s within my domain. As per the terms of the treaty, the hunter cells who are a part of the treaty will be informed that he is not an immediate threat, and is not to be killed without good reason. ...I assume you’d rather your name stay out of this?”

And now, Henry really is at a loss for words. He’d gone into this expecting to hang up with a mountain of errands to run for Aiden in return for Nero’s safety. But in the end...

“I- Aye.”, he just manages to force out, clears his throat to try and pull himself together. “I..am...grateful, Mr Shah.”

For a third time tonight that chuckle echoes through the call, but for once Henry’s way less inclined to scoff at it.

“A Baron must be fair, Mr Morgan, to his people and all others within his domain. Your friend will be safe, you have my-...word.” Aiden trails off, and even through the phone Henry can make out the commotion. That carved wooden door slamming open, and a woman talking in a language he can’t understand, her words heavy with urgency.

“Enjoy your stay in Paris, Mr Morgan. Until we meet again.”

That’s that last thing that goes through before the line goes dead and Henry is, once more, alone. Outside, Paris I just as bright as before, nothing but clear skies and the city’s lights. But in the distance clouds begin to gather...

[ttuesday]

Hellooooo, I absolutely adore your blog. I literally check your blog everyday for new stuff, your writing soothes my restless soul.

If you'd want to and have the time, could we get some jealous (and maybe a lil bit possessive) boys (preferrably like dutch, arthur or hosea) when reader has to turn up her charms for a job? xx If it's not your cup of tea I understand <3

Keep being you and have a great day!

ANON I LOVE THAT IDEA

The Mayor of Saint Denis was throwing a party and Angelo Bronte had invited Dutch to go. It was Hosea’s idea for you to come too, knowing that your charm and friendly demeanour would help you get useful information from the other guests. And so you, your sweetheart and some of the other fellers bought some fancy clothes and headed off to the party.

Arthur

Arthur knows the only reason you’re here and being polite is for the sake of the gang. You don’t actually want to be hanging around with all these high society folk, or at least he hopes you don’t.

Whenever Arthur sees you laugh at a joke or smile at another man, he can feel a small knot of jealous grow in his gut. He rolls his eyes and mumbles a few snarky comments. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help himself.

 As ye leave the party, Arthur asks “Y’sure you don’t wanna stay, looks like you’re really enjoying yourself”. That night when you’re both back at camp and inside your tent, Arthur makes sure to please you.

 When you think back to this night, Arthur wants you to think of the two of ye in your tent, not the party. Afterwards while you’re both cuddling, he opens up about how he was feeling at the party and apologises for being rude.

Charles

Charles is a very relaxed guy. He understands that this is all part of the job. It's not like you wanted to charm all these people, it's something you were doing for the plan.

That doesn't mean he has to like it though. A part of him feels silly for getting jealous but seeing you smile and make each of the guests feel special gets under his skin. 

He stays close to you throughout the night in case you need some back-up. Charles wants to make sure he can be there for you within a second. Half of the time he's there, Charles is hoping neither of ye have to go to another one of these parties ever again.

When ye get back to camp, Charles gives you a big hug. Honestly, he was waiting to punch each and every person you talked to but he's glad he stayed calm and didn't act impulsively.

Dutch

Dutch is convinced he's stuck in a nightmare. What was he thinking making you go off and charm all these irrelevant people?! Looking back on it, he thinks it was a stupid plan but he won't admit that.

A mixture of annoyance and jealous builds in his stomach. He keeps a watchful eye on you as he goes around the party, making sure to know where you are at all times.

Eventually Dutch can't take it anymore and he wraps his arm around your waist. He stays with you for the rest of the party, making sure to give you kisses throughout the night so everyone knows you're with him.

When you enter his tent after the long night, Dutch's hands are immediately on your body. Dutch needs to touch every inch of you so be prepared for a longgg night.

John

John really didn't think he was the jealous type. He knew what your job was at the party but there was a massive difference in hearing that you're going to be charming people versus actually seeing you charm people.

John subtly follows you around the party and whenever an other guest flirts with you, John butts in and tells the guest they have something stuck in their teeth. As they quickly go to find a mirror, John mutters an insult about them before distancing himself for you again.

It's very obvious that John is jealous and on the ride back to camp, Arthur and Dutch make sure to tease him about it. He just huffs and rolls his eyes in response.

As ye settle down for the night, John says he's sorry for how he acted and that he knows he was being stupid. He needs a lot of cuddles and reassurance.

Micah

What kinda bullshit is this? There you are, all dressed up and looking like you should be one of those fancy cigarette cards but you have to talk to other people?

Micah's in a rage. He can't stand seeing you smile and laugh with these snobby jerks. Micah spends the majority of his time sulking around the party and pouting.

They're lucky security took everyone's weapons at the front door, otherwise Micah wouldn't shot every single person who spoke to you... yeah, he's quite possessive.

As the fireworks begin, Micah comes up next to you and tells you that Dutch need ye to go into the mansion to look for something. He leads you through the house until he stops in a quiet corridor. Yeah, Dutch didn't actually ask Micah to go look for anything, Micah just wants to fuck.

Hosea

Hosea’s done plenty of cons in the past. He knows how it goes and he knows that charming is the most efficient way to get information. Hosea's aware that this is a part of the job.

He trusts you too but Hosea's issue is with everyone else at the party. He doesn't trust them in the slightest. At first, Hosea tries to distract himself by talking to other guests and trying to get information on any upcoming stagecoaches or trains but he can't stop thinking about you.

Finally, Hosea thinks that Dutch's plan isn't worth it and decides to join you instead. He links arms with you and joins you in charming people. It's a lot easier that way cause you can both work together.

Deep down Hosea knows he joined you because he was feeling insecure and jealous but luckily it worked out well and he didn't even have to threaten anyone!

Javier

Javier doesn’t get jealous easily. At first he actually thought it was amusing that you had to charm the high class people of Saint Denis. He hoped that after you spent a few minutes charming people, that ye could spend the rest of the night together.

Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple and it was like more and more people wanted to talk to you. That was when Javier stopped seeing the amusing side of it and began to get more and more annoyed as the night dragged on.

Finally Javier snaps at someone after they interrupt him when he tried to talk to you. And now when people try to flirt with you, Javier pulls you in for a deep kiss so they get the hint and fuck off.

Javier tells Dutch that ye won’t be going back to camp and instead he pays for a hotel room for the night *wink wink*. Right now, Javier needs you and he wants to remind you of how great he can make you feel.

Bill

Bill is jealous within the first five minutes. You go up to the first guest and introduce yourself and Bill is already grumpy. He wandered over to Dutch a few times, asking if you need to be charming everyone and if he could alter the plan a little.

The last thing Bill wants to do is put the plan in jeopardy so instead of completely disrupting you, he hovers around where you are and tries to subtly listen to your conversation... or well, as subtly as Bill can be.

Slowly he edges his way into the conversation. The guests you're trying to charm, look over that the man who's awkwardly joined the conversation and who has a big cheesy smile on his face.

 Yeah your charm doesn't work great with Bill there too but it's sweet that he wants to stay close.

Sean

Sean acts cool. Yeah you go do your thing, Sean will gladly cheer you on. He was excited to wear a fancy suit and go to some high class party. Sean was convinced it'd be fun...

But then he actually sees you talking to a lot of other people and Sean starts to feel left out.

He tries to distract him by throwing the finger food into the fountain, stealing people's top hats, stacking the wine glasses on top of each other but Sean still looks over at you every few minutes.

When he was passing by you, Sean was convinced he heard someone flirting with you. Sean instantly jumps into action, trying to be intimidating and blurting out a couple of threats. Afterwards you lead Sean away and explain that the man was talking to his wife, not you.

[hardyimagines]

A Crave For Fame

Would love a Forrest piece, maybe where you’re cornered by some bad guy and Forrest steps in and you nurse him. Bandaging his wounds and what not. You get really close to his face and he acts nonchalant about it but you’re really shy. Ends in a heated kiss. Lots of fluff.

TW: Mild Violence

———————————————————————

1932.

The bar smelt like thick liquor and dried throw up. The top of your nose was red and cold from the chilly wind as it whipped around outside swirling in circles, shaking tree branches until they were forced to drop their leaves, whisking up grains of dirt and sending them flying in the direction of those who were outside. It was a dust storm of some sort, that’s what people were referring to it as. The air outside was orange and murky, it looked as if the clouds had descended and were making the world all puffy and one big blur.

The tips of your painted nails slid along the straps of your bright red apron. Unhooking the fabric from the silver hook on the wall, you briefly ogled the peeling paper, crisp and dangling like a hangnail waiting to be ripped off. The apron wasn’t exactly required, but you found that it definitely helped to wear something in order to prevent having alcohol sloshed and spilled and stuck on you when rowdy customers would shake their heavy fists and bounce their heavy, drunk bodies on the counter stools.

Regardless of how many times you wiped down the counter, it always seemed to have a slick, sticky feeling to it and the lemon scent only masked the stench of whiskey and rum for a limited amount of time. The sign outside read ‘Restaurant’ and the sign further forward read ‘Gas station’, and while there was a small supply of gas and a short list of food items on the menu, that wasn’t at all what this place was truly selling.

It was the prohibition era. People were parched and the only way to quench their thirst was by giving them a cold beverage that scalded their throat as it went down. The smooth liquor was rich, bitter, sweet, plain. Everybody had their preference. You weren’t much of a drinker, but pouring beverages was easy enough and from the looks of approval you received all the time, you’d assume you were doing a pretty good job.

Working for bootleggers was never something that had spiked your interest in the past - and maybe it wouldn’t have when you had sauntered up the hill when it was pouring down rain a year ago, but one look at the man had charge had sent you reeling. You didn’t want to work anywhere else.

Forrest Bondurant was one of, if not, the most attractive men you’d ever seen. He had big blue eyes and a head of constantly gelled hair. Why he went through the trouble of styling such a mess, you didn’t know, majority of the time he wore a hat on top of it anyway. He was always strolling around in his big gray cardigan with a button down or another sweater underneath. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d overfilled the shot glasses on the bar and spilled liquor all over your fingers and the counter, just because staring at him was such a distraction. He didn’t notice though, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The front door opened with a loud creak, the hinges loudly alerting whoever had just entered that they were in no shape to be handled so roughly. The door swung shut, slamming loudly behind the new guest. His eyes shimmered green and his teeth sparkled white. The man removed his top hat and strode up to the counter with so much confidence you could’ve upchucked. Men like him made you want to spit in their drinks.

“What can I get for you?” You asked, not bothering to stop and give him the eye contact that he was clearly searching for.

“Something light.” The man said. “I won’t be staying long.” He pressed his elbow against the counter, but made no mention of the filth or the stench.

It wasn’t busy yet, but there were always people inside. Either they slept the night at the bar counter, on the floor, at a table, or outside, or they showed up as bright and early as the sun did, ready to start drinking the day away. Most of the customers that tended to be here so long just made their own drinks when you rested. Forrest knew them, you knew them, so there was no harm done. But this man, he was a completely new face.

“Something light as in water?” You said, pouring a shot of water and replacing it with the shot of vodka that one of the men had been drinking. He was green in the face and looked about ready to faint. You knew he needed to be eased off the liquor, you couldn’t just flat out say that - people reacted too differently to know if it would be a threat or not to cut someone’s intake off.

The man snorted. “Why would I come into a bar for a glass of water?”

You arched a slow brow. “The same reason you’d come in and ask for something light - we have liquor, straight from the bottle. It’s not dolled up and pretty, we don’t have any mixers, it’s just straight alcohol.” You didn’t say another word, instead you finally let your eyes flicker to his own, resisting the urge to glare. But your patience was wearing thin. You didn’t have time for games and he was beating around the bush.

The man sighed. “Moonshine.” He said before lowering himself down on the stool. “And maybe a drink of you?” You could hear the amusement in his voice, as if he were positive you’d take him up on his offer. He found himself hilarious.

Turning on the heel of your pointed boot, you wrapped your slender fingers around the neck of the silver bottle. Rotating, you poured a perfect glass of moonshine and then set the glass down in front of him. No spillage. The liquid was filled to the brim. Extending your arm, your palm creased as you curled your finger inward, waiting to be paid.

Instead, the man grasped your wrist and pressed it against the bar counter. “How about you give this one to me for free? Since I don’t see you marching that ass of yours from out behind the counter.” He patted his lap for good measure. “I went ahead and saved you a seat,” He motioned to his thigh again. “but you know, you’re being awful rude.”

Your eyes creased in the corners, stare hardening as the man tightened his hold on your wrist. Forrest was a shout away, but you were a big girl, not some maiden in a tower waiting to be rescued. Attempting to jerk your arm back to yourself, you hissed under your breath when he turned it at an odd angle. All the other men in the room were out old or oblivious. You could scream their names and they probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

You flinched as he began to rifle through his pocket.

“I’ll give you something.” He said, masking the tone of his voice for a more gentle and apologetic one. But you weren’t an idiot, so you didn’t let your guard down. But it wasn’t as if you could just rip your arm away from him. He was insanely strong and you, unfortunately, didn’t get much upper arm strength pouring drinks. Before you could utter a word, he pressed a cigarette against his lips and lit the end. The brownish-orange tip of the stick illuminated with bright orange embers as he inhaled and the smoke lifted from the end of the form of payment.

“Let me go.” You insisted, practically ripping at your arm so hard that your wrist had gone numb from his tight grasp.

“After I pay you.” He said. You didn’t know what to expect, a puff of smoke being blown in your direction? The man pinched the stick with his knuckles, clasping it between his pointer finger and his middle finger. He rotated it swiftly, pinching it then between his thumb and pointer finger. As suddenly as he moved the smoking tip toward your flesh, your eyes flickered with realization. And then you began to squirm.

“Hey..” You pulled harder. “What are you doing?” It was so obvious. But in a panicked state of mind were you expected to speak adequately. “Let me go, please..” Begging was never one of your strong suits. It just didn’t fit you. You hated it, having to ask someone to have mercy on you. But you didn’t fancy smelling burnt flesh, or feeling the pain that would come along with seared flesh. Scream for help, your brain said. You’re a big girl, but you can still ask for help, it reminded you.

The ashes fell from their loose spots on the cigarette, floating across your skin, dusting it with kisses. The ashes gathered on the counter as he lowered the hot tip of the cigarette toward your flexed forearm. Forrest’s name was on the tip of your tongue, but the pink muscle felt swollen and useless. There was a block in your throat that wouldn’t let your voice free and for the first time in a long time, fear surged through you like a whirlwind, resembling the very state of weather outside. Your body ran hot with fear and as you jerked your elbow to the side, the glass of moonshine toppled over and clattered against the floor.

Pieces scattered along the floor as the cup smashed on impact. If that wasn’t enough to lure Forrest out of office, then perhaps your cry of agony would. But the bloke was just a sliver of a second too late. The tip of the cigarette grazed your skin, enough to leave a slight burn, but as quickly as the glass had broken, Forrest had appeared.

He didn’t hover in the doorway to inspect what was going on. Someone had their hands on you and right away, it was unacceptable. The big, burly man strode forward. His thick fingers curled in the caramel flannel that the bastard was wearing. Forrest snatched the cigarette from his pinched fingers and immediately snubbed the lit tip out by pressing the hot surface against the man’s cheek.

The bloke let out a nasty yell, finally releasing your arm. You lifted your hands, on instinct, to cup over your ears, blocking out the sound of his pained shouting as best as you could.

His cry was like a signal though. The doors flew open and three other men piled in. It was rumored that the Bondurant brother’s were all invincible - especially Forrest. He’d survived a lot - brutal attacks, life-threatening illnesses, having his throat slit, his heart broken, wars. But could he take on four men?

Dropping your hands from your ears when the yelling stopped, you crouched down and began to twist the knob on the safe. It was a sixteen digit pin, so it would take a moment to open, but the revolver inside had six bullets, so you be able to wipe out all of the men with that if it came down to it. You weren’t peering over the bar counter to see what was happening. You were scared - terrified. A part of you wanted to leap into your boss’s arms and give him a bear hug, another part of you wanted to hide in those big arms of his and just forget that your arm had almost been burnt to a crisp. Instead, there was just a very small burn. It was nothing to worry over, nothing in comparison to the burn on the man’s face.

“What the fuck are you all standing there for!” The man rasped loudly, clutching his hand to his face as if the skin on skin contact would help him. “Get him!”

All three men moved forward. One was smoking a cigar - very nonchalant as he marched toward Forrest, one was sweating like he’d just ran a marathon, and the other was blinking furiously as if the dust outside had momentarily blinded him.

Forrest stuck his hand in his pocket and used his fingers to make the shape of a gun. The outline was bulky and visible and the three men hesitated, if only for a second. “I’d think very carefully on what you’re ‘bout to do next, boys.” Forrest spoke softly. His voice was quiet, slow. It was silky against your ears.

You poked your head out for half a second, blindly rotating to nozzle all the way to the left - 11, and then all the way to the right, 5. Inputting every single number as quickly as you could, you jumped in fear at the sound of a sickening crack. You jumped up, expecting to see Forrest laying in a heap on the floor, but instead it was just one of the other men. Forrest stood with his bloodied hand hanging at his side. Blood dripped from the brass knuckles he wore, droplets staining the wooden floorboards. Forrest sneered.

“Who’s next?” He inquired. “The man with the cigarette burn, the broken jaw, the blind one, or the sweaty one.” He flexed his fingers for a moment, waiting impatiently for one of them to charge at him.

What he didn’t expect was for the untouched duo to jump toward him at the same time. He sent his fist flying directly into one of their spine’s, but with the help from the bastard who now had a permanent scar on his cheek, Forrest was sent directly down and on to his back. The men tackled him and you trembled on the spot.

Shakily crouching back down, you began to finish off the code. Forrest’s groans of pain were evident. He was rasping, moaning, putting up as much of a fight as he could. He swung his arms and tried desperately to cover his face. Two men grabbed his arms and pulled them apart, leaving his face and stomach vulnerable to their boss.

The man’s cheek was sunken where the hole was forming. His eyes were red and watery and his stance was slightly shaky. But he had the upper hand as he moved forward. His hand dropped to his pocket and without any hesitance, he pulled a knife free from a holster.

“Now then, why don’t I reopen that cut on your throat?” The man sneered, already beginning to crouch down. Forrest’s nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen and purple. You were sure his stomach would be doused in bruises in the morning and his fingers would be cramped, locked, and jammed.

The safe opened with a quiet buzz and you, with an eagerness, desperately grabbed the handle of the gun and stood. Your hold was steady and your aim was perfect. You’d been working here for a little more than a year, and Forrest had taught you how to shoot within your first few weeks.

Extending your arms out, you held the gun steady as you cocked the revolver. “Hey, asshole.” You said breathily. “If you lay one more finger on him, I’ll kill you.” You could tell by the man’s tense back and resistance to look in your direction that he knew you weren’t bluffing. He slowly tucked away the blade and then sucked in a deep breath of air.

“You’re the first group of people to put up such an unnecessary fight. My brother’s and I, this is what we do, free alcohol from the bootleggers and pretty women are an extra bonus.” He snorted before looking in your direction.

You scowled, before demanding. “Leave..” And although you wanted them to, to all just pile out toward the entrance and get the hell out of here, it worried you. What if they came back sometime in the night when everyone was vulnerable and sleeping? Your eyes were distant as you pondered how this would end. You could blow another hole in his other cheek, though that one would be far more deadly. Or you could let them go.

“Forrest..” You whispered. His guidance was definitely a necessity right now. It wasn’t too often you found yourself in this position. The floorboards creaked underneath you as you shuffled your weight from foot to foot. Forrest sat up with a low grumble, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was in pain. He jerked his arms free from the hold the men had had on him and as he began to stand, he spun around and grabbed the back of their necks. Shoving them toward one another so their skulls rammed into each other, he shoved them both to the floor and then retrieved his brass knuckles. Two opponents down, and one more left.

Forrest gave each of them a few extra punches to the face for good measure, wanting them to realize that they truly weren’t a match for the invincible Bondurant. He whirled around to face the last man, the one who thought he could lay a hand on you, the one who thought he could use you as an ashtray and that would be fine.

The man did that to all of the bartenders, marking them in each town he passed through. His real name wouldn’t live on in the history books, but what he’d done would. Who wouldn’t want to read about a man that burned bartenders with a cigarette butt as a form of payment? It made him want to laugh on the spot.

Instead, he dove head first across the bar counter and directly into you. When it came to fight or flight, your reflexes were clearly to just freeze. His body sent yours crumbling to the floor. It was sticky and disgusting because you only mopped on the weekend. You have a sharp cry of pain and fear as he ripped the gun from your hand and pressed the tip against your chin. “Now then,” He sneered down at you. “You didn’t want a cigarette burn, maybe you’d like a bullet wound. I won’t kill you, I need you alive so you can tell the story about me.” His eyes creased with his lopsided grin and his breath - it stunk of peanuts and smoke. He didn’t even take a sip of the moonshine, it sat prettily on the bar, the liquid shaking from all the movement in the bar.

Forrest stepped toward the bar to help you, just as the man jerked you up and to your feet by your hair. Your eyes were opened wide and your eyes were pleading. The barrel of the gun caressed your soft skin, stroking your chin until he dared to move the gun to your lips. You jerked your head away, scoffing under your breath at the audacity of this man. He must’ve thought he was in a movie with the way he was behaving, talking about himself as if one day he’d be some big story. Your watery eyes moved to Forrest. He hadn’t budged. His knuckles were bloody and dripping - his blood or the men’s blood he didn’t know. All he saw was red. He felt hot and irritated, at a loss of control.

“What do you want?” Forrest said. His voice was so monotone. He sounded like he was taking someone’s order for food, not trying to save your life.

The man chortled. “I want you to light a cigarette and put it out on her body. I’ll let you choose where.” The man moved his hand to the back of your neck, roughly pinching it before he shoved you as hard as possible out from behind the bar and in the direction of your boss. He didn’t follow, he kept four feet between himself and the two of you. The gun was cocked and pointed, all he had to do was shoot.

Your feet didn’t cooperate with your mind, especially not after being forcefully sent flying forward. You rammed right into Forrest’s broad chest, arms immediately lifting so that you could clutch on to his cardigan. No part of you worried that he’d actually do what he was told. This was Forrest, he had a way out of everything - you hoped. Lifting your watery eyes to his own as he pressed his thick fingers against your elbow, steadying you, he checked your face for any signs of injury before slipping his other arm around you as well. You’d never been so close to him, pressed flush against him with hardly any room to breathe.

The man reached up and pinched the front of his hat. Removing the accessory, he lowered it to your head, shielding you from what was to come. Should he be shot, he didn’t think that was something you should see. You blinked slowly, your breaths seeming louder than usual beneath the oversized hat. You couldn’t see much, nothing but the ground and his belly as it rose and fell with every inhale and exhale.

So what happened next made you flinch. It was loud, so loud, there were screams of pain and the sound of cracking bones. Forrest hadn’t moved, he was still standing firmly with his feet planted against the wooden floor. His fingertips dared to brush along your arm, slow and assuring as he watched the scene play out. His brothers weren’t the best fighters, they weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, but regardless of what was happening they’d always have his back like he had theirs.

Without explaining what was going on, Forrest merely lifted the front of his hat so that he could see your features. Inspecting you closely, he let out a quiet grunt before giving you the best smile he could muster. With a swollen lip and a bruised eye, the expression didn’t seem fitting. Who’d be happy at a time like this? Relief colored his features as he slowly brushed his knuckles along your warm skin before he parted his lips to speak.

You beat him to it though. “Thank you..” You whispered softly before dragging yourself back. You didn’t want to suffocate him or make him uncomfortable by clinging to him. There was no longer a threat. “Come on,” You murmured softly. “Let me look at your injuries.” Peeling the hat off of your head, your slender fingers slipped through his own and you slowly guided him toward one of the tables. It was wiped clean, void of any crumbs or liquor, so you set the hat down on the surface and then nudged him gently to take a seat.

Forrest’s knees popped under the pressure and his bloodied hands moved to his stomach. It was only then, when he felt the pressure of the brass knuckles, that he realized he hadn’t taken them off. His fingers felt swollen and stiff and his arms refused to move for a few moments.

You have him a soft smile before slowly reaching for his hand. Your touch was delicate and slow as you pried the brass knuckles off of him. Setting the tool on the table, you turned around to fetch the first aid kit from behind the bar, just as Howard and Jack were hauling the bloke toward the exit. They’d be back for the other three as well.

You stepped over the unconscious bodies on the floor - some drunkards, and the three others were Forrest’s attackers. Retrieving the fallen revolver, you uncocked the weapon and slipped it back in the safe before securely closing the black case and then retrieving the plastic first aid box. The white handle fit snugly in your small palm as you pulled it free from its place under the bar.

You didn’t have the confidence that you’d be able to fix Forrest up as good as new, but you were certain that you’d be able to prevent anymore swelling, help some go down, and patch up the spots on his face that were bleeding. Your boots clicked softly against the floorboards as you made your way over to the table. Setting the box down, you undid the clasps on the front and then pushed it open. Dragging out the small container of alcohol, some gauze, a few wipes, and an ice packet, you gave him a small smile.

Forrest watched your every movement through one good eye, and one half-opened, swollen, purple eye. His nose was busted and bleeding and purple in the center. It didnt look broken, but it certainly looked bruised.

“Could I wipe your hands clean?” You asked softly. There was always an ever present shyness to you when it came to the man seated in front of you. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you feel so nervous, but you felt the need to shy away after every word exchanged.

He gave a quiet hum before lifting his hands and laying them on the table. His knuckles were tense and bleeding in various places. The impact of the brass knuckles hammering against a man’s face, still brought a small amount of pain to the man’s knuckles. He shuffled, watching you as you slipped your hand into his own and lifted it. The sun poured in through the window, falling across the injury so you could see perfectly. You opened the bottle of alcohol, dousing the cloth in it before you gently began to wipe away the smudges of blood and then cleaned the opened wounds, cuts and scrapes that bled like gashes.

He didn’t wince or jerk away even though it stung horribly. It wasn’t a matter of protecting his ego, everyone experienced pain at some point in their life. Adjusting his hand lightly, he cleared his throat before letting his thick fingers drop to his lap when you were finished cleaning them up. “Would you have really shot him?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes lifted to his own as he asked such a thing. You stepped away again to retrieve some ice, but his words burned your ears. As you filled the ice pack, you couldn’t help but wonder what the honest answer was. Would you have shot him? Blinking a few times, you carried the ice pack back over to your boss and slowly lifted it so that he could hold it in place over his eye. “Yes.” You said after what felt like an eternity to him. “In the leg.. perhaps, or the arm.” You offered. “But I don’t think I couldve killed him.”

Forrest gave a soft nod. “I didn’t expect you to.” He assured you before giving you the best smile he could muster. “I’m incredibly grateful that you.. well, put your life on the line for me like that. He could’ve killed you.”

You snorted. “You and me both. But we’re fine.” Guiding his hand to the ice pack so he could hold it on the wound, you then began to tend to his nose. There wasn’t much you could do, apart from clean up the dried blood that rested underneath his nostril. He had stubble, dancing along the length of his warm flesh. His cheeks and his jaw were coated in the fine hairs, giving some texture to his face as your hand cupped the sharp surface, thumb grazing his chin so that you could tip his head back.

The close proximity was numbing. You felt like you’d been swallowed by a flame. Maybe it was the way the sun illuminated the both of you, but the heat you felt was completely internal. Fidgeting for a moment under his unwavering stare, you watched as the white cloth turned red and his red skin returned to the initial paleness it ordinarily was. Crumbling the rag, you laid it on the table before leaning into him so you could get a better look at his eye. You moved the ice pack, squinting as you inspected the damage.

“I’m not doctor, Mr. Bondurant.. you’re probably better off having this injury looked at.” You suggested before straightening. Your arms slowly crossed over your chest, warm fingertips tracing the sleeves of your shirt.

Forrest grumbled something incoherent before giving you a soft nod. “Feels just fine.” He lied.

“Forrest.” You scolded him. “It’s swollen shut.”

The man arched a brow. Very rarely did you use his first name. His large palm lifted, covering his eye so that he could watch you through the swollen one. “See. Works just fine.”

You squinted challengingly before shaking your head in mild amusement. The man was insufferable. You made movement to turn to clean up the first aid kit tools, but he grasped your forearm tenderly in his large palm.

“Id know if something were wrong with my eye, Y/n, because you look just as beautiful through my swollen eye as you do with my two good ones.” He pulled you in his direction, his expression a pleading one. “Perhaps you should take one more look at it.”

Your brows furrowed at the compliment he’d given you before you stumbled in his direction. Laying your nimble fingers against the unsturdy, wooden arm of the chair. Inspecting his eye as he asked, you gave him a small, shy smile. “Mr. Bondurant, I believe you..” Though you weren’t sure if you did or you just wanted to put some proximity between you and his body. He was so warm and inviting, it drove you up the wall.

Forrest leaned forward. He enjoyed seeing you squirm so much. You were riddled with your fear of being unliked by him, even though it was clear he felt the same things for you. The man’s hand was gentle as it slid up the length of your arm so he could brush a few of your tresses back and out of your eyes.

Your cheeks felt unbelievably warm in this moment. You were sure that if they could be, they’d be the color of a ripe tomato. Lifting your free hand to steady yourself, you pressed it against his strong shoulder. “What are you doing..?” You breathed, attempting to rack your brain for some sort of explanation for his actions. Your brain refused to help you, it was completely blank. The closer your face grew to his own, the hotter you became and the more your brain shut down. You felt like a blob of jello.

He couldn’t help but smile. He sensed your shyness, which was exactly why he didn’t offer any words. Just actions. He figured they’d speak louder. Besides, he had to thank you in some enjoyable fashion. Why not with a kiss? The man spread his thighs wide enough to give you a place to stand. Drawing you forward, he moved his hands to your curvy waist and held on to you as his hot breaths began to mingle with your own.

All at once, your brow smoothed and your mind was completely blank. You saw nothing but him, heard nothing but the hammering of your own heart, smelled nothing but him - and he smelt like smoke and liquor, you felt nothing but his hard body under your palm, and soon you’d taste nothing but those big, pink lips of his. Your own mouth parted, incredibly too willingly, and all at once your mouth’s molded together like long lost pieces to a missing puzzle.

Your body fell into his lap, arms appearing to be insanely slender as they curled around his wide, broad, muscular shoulders. Forrest moved his hand to your leg, steadying you with one hand on your thigh and the other laid against your back. His mouth was slow, tentative, and curious as it moved in sync with your own and your’s was hungry, exploring, and needy. The shyness you felt crept away, but it didn’t go too far, it was just silenced by the romantic exchange he was leading.

His lips were as soft as you were imagined, and he tasted like honey and coffee. You pressed the crook of your elbow against the back of his neck and let a sultry moan fall from your lips in approval. Every brush of his fingers against your spine and feel of his tongue gliding against your own, sent sparks of electricity jolting throughout your body.

You still didn’t understand why he was kissing you, but was there really a point in questioning it? Maybe he was just grateful. Maybe he’d been hit so hard in the face he thought this was the right thing to do? And maybe, you hoped it was for this reason, the incident had helped you both find the confidence to grow suddenly closer. You were careful not to let your nose bump his or your hands to stray too far in fear of hitting an injury. What this meant and how far this would go didn’t cross your mind though, because in this moment there was only him and those sweet tasting lips of his.

———————————————————————

Tag List: @saved-fanfiction @thephuonganh @theaamberr @innerpaperexpertcloud @darklydeliciousdesires @thebeckyjolene @mollybegger-blog @travelingmypassion @caffinated-tree @tcmhollnd @br0ck-eddie @ellar21 @advictedtohim @river-rain-water @crldrr2 @louloudeug99

A/N: This is my first fic in almost a year so please bear with me🖤 ( ALSO NOT MY GIFS ) also it’s been soooo long since I’ve uploaded, I can’t remember how to do a ‘keep reading’ on mobile, so please message me and let me know how!!

[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. 

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Hi! 💕 I hope I'm submitting this correctly but I'm assuming you write for the Shishigumi lions? If so, I'd like to request some sfw and nsfw headcanons for them dating a female herbivore and it's totally up to you which members you would like to write for (although Free and Agata are my favourites!)

You know I love the Shishigumi, a lot. So I went overboard. I offer my apologies.

I will say, since I usually put NSFW under cut, but due to length I put it all under cut, I do have a big warning for it as to not surprise y’all

There’s a lot I could write for them, but to keep it reasonable I kept it kinda short! Feel free to request more if you’d like!

I’m also not great at nsfw so I tried my best I hope you like it anyway

SFW

Ibuki (I love him and will never NOT include him in an ask about the Shishigumi)

Ibuki is probably the best one at dating an herbivore. He’s very gentle and conscientious of you as an animal and your limitations 

That being said, he’s top tier respectful. He knows you may not be as physically strong as her is, but that doesn’t mean you’re not strong in your own way. He also likes the idea of protecting you. 

Always walks side by side with you. He’s nervous about holding your hand, but he’d never say it. Do it for him. 

Has eaten meat for YEARS and really struggles with that part of himself. 

Doesn’t kiss you for a really long time, he’s inwardly terrified that he’s going to hurt you. You’d have to make the first move.

Keeps you away from his work. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. 

He knows his world is dark, gritty, and that you shouldn’t be a part of it. He wants to send you away, but can’t. He thinks he’s selfish. You’ll need to reassure him this is what you want. 

Herbivores can’t see in the dark, so he keeps lights on in key areas so you can see better.

Protective. If anyone gives you any trouble he’s quick to correct their behavior, he can be incredibly intimidating when he wants to be

Slouches so you’re around the same height. Give him a back/neck rub at the end of the day. It will make him feel better, and he liked being close to you

The kind of boyfriend that remembers all the major events in your relationships, including small ones. 

Once he gets comfortable, he’s a snuggle bug in private. Cheek kisses, arm around your shoulders when you’re sitting, wrapping his arms around your waist when you’re standing.

Lions can’t purr, but if they COULD oh man, he’d never stop

Free

He’s famous for enjoying females, so the fact that he’s dating someone seriously that’s not a feline is really strange

You should have seen the expression on one of the more flirty female lions when he turned them down. 

Everyone thinks he’s joking about dating you at first, when they see he’s actually serious the teasing dies down, but doesn’t stop (it’s at his expense don’t worry).

“Has hell frozen over? What’s someone like you doing with a guy like Free?”

He honestly doesn’t expect you guys to stay together for very long. He expects it to be a fling. Only it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t get tired of you or eat you....It’s weird but wonderful. 

Has eaten meat for years, and has a hard time letting himself kiss on anywhere but on the cheek. Likes to throw his arm around you and hug you. So he does show affection, but keeps his mouth FAR AWAY from your throat. 

Rests his head on top of yours 

Calls you “Babe” a lot. He has a lot of other nicknames for you to. Some of the lions don’t even know your name, just that you’re dating Free. 

Over. Protective. He knows the market, the animals in it and the animals who come to it. He is very prepared to shoot or maim anyone who tries anything. The fact he’s such a loose canon does help scare people off. Everyone knows who you’re dating and they make sure not to push it. 

He likes to show you off. He’s that guy that carries a picture of you in his wallet. Anyone who asks about him dating someone and he’ll show you off. 

“Sure she’s hot, but have you see the ass on my girlfriend?” 

Likes to show off in front of you. Fights? Yes. Please watch him and root for him.

Tries to get you to get a tattoo, but will NOT get identical ones. He doesn’t want to jinx it. If you wanna have similar tattoos though, that’d be okay. 

Dolph

A relationship with Dolph when you’re an herbivore is really low key. A lot of people don’t know you’re dating. He doesn’t want to put you in jeopardy

He’s pretty serious and it’s hard for him just to relax. He does relax when you’re alone and he knows you’re safe. 

Likes to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beat 

When you do go out together, you may have to initiate any hand holding.  He plays it off, but he’s secretly happy

He smokes, and you may have to get on him for that if you don’t like it. It’d be very hard for him to quit 

Will let you braid his mane, but wont keep it in if you go out

Supports your endeavors and does whatever he can to help. He may get a little to into it. You’ll say you wanna take a trip and he has everything planned out. It’s a blessing and a curse. 

Likes how small your hands are in his

When he has a hard day, just hold him. He’s heavy and will lean into you, but he just needs the support

Has to relearn how to be himself, and you really help with that. He smiles more when he’s alone with you. 

Has a really deep, gruff, morning voice

Agata

If lions could blush you bet he’d be constantly red. If you actually look close, the insides of his ears usually are

Loves holding your hand and hugs

Respects your boundaries. If Ibuki is the king of respect, Agata is the prince.

He’s still part of a dangerous organization in the black market, so when he’s working he’s all business. Only a few of the members know about you (just the inner circle). 

Agata, like most of the others, is petrified to kiss you. He probably has the worst anxiety out of anyone else. He’s a meat eater, he’s eaten your kind of meat before. What if He accidently hurts you?

Texts you all the time.

The one you can be on the phone with for hours and not know it

Likes it when you run your fingers through his mane

He’s stronger than he looks, so he may just pick you up and carry you every now and again. He just likes to hold you, let him have this

Brings you flowers and your favorite snacks whenever you have a bad day

Stammers when he’s flustered.

Likes to bury his face in your neck

He has a hard time being who he is versus how he thinks he should be. The fact he can goof off and just enjoy life without the strain of being a lion is a blessing. 

Probably says he loves you before you do. He does it when he’s half asleep on your lap. He falls asleep before he realized he said it, whoops.

You’d have to be the one to be aggressive in public. “Excuse me, he asked for no pickles”  meme

Miguel

He’s pretty quiet in his group, so no one knows you’re dating

Miguel is really good at thinking his feelings and thoughts, but isn’t great at voicing them. He does a lot of little things to show affection. He brings you a warm drink on a cold day, has food for you when you wake up, holds you hand

He likes to try and see the best in everything, even if he knows how ugly the world is

His mane is maintained carefully. Once you get really serious, he may ask you to help him with it. It’s pretty intimate, and when you’re done he looks at you like you have stars in your eyes

He’s the force of protection you don’t even know is there. He’s probably saved your life like, eight times, and never let you know that he did

Sabu

If Miguel is quiet, Sabu is dead silent

No one knows anything about his personal life, let alone his dating life

They find out one day when the group is trying to make plans for a fun sort of day, and he turns them down because you two have a date. It becomes a secret mission for the group to find out who you are.

They don’t, Sabu is the oldest member and one of the most clever

A popular headcanon is that his face is really, REALLY messed up. I share that headcanon. The first time you kiss the scars on his face he chokes up

He goes all in. he’s yours as long as you’ll have him. He expects the same respect from you. 

He’s eaten meat for a really long time, but he has more semblance of control being a smidge older than most of the other lions. 

A bit pessimistic 

Kisses you good morning and goodnight. 

Cuddles on the couch. He’ll watch whatever you want to, but he has his preferences

Wears his face covering everywhere, you’ll need to remind him he can relax when you’re alone

. If you get out of somewhere like work or school late at night, he’s waiting for you to take you home. 

So used to wearing a suit and tie, he doesn’t know how to do casual wear very well. He lets you pick most of his stuff out. 

Jinma

He knows a lot about the black market, so he’s over protective from the get go. However, since he does know so much, he knows what connections to make to keep you safe. 

Eats meat, and is self conscious that you’ll judge him for it. Please be nice to him

Kiss his eye with the spot, it makes him feel special

(Personal headcanon) His mane has never grown right, so he keeps it short. He’s kind of self conscious about it. A lions mane means a lot to male lions, he tries to keep it nice but...it’s nothing like some of the other Shishigumi’s manes. Pet it, run your fingers through it. Males don’t complimented enough. It’ll make him feel loved. 

If you ever wanna go anywhere fancy, because of his connections and knowledge, you can basically go anywhere at any time...as long as it’s in the black market, but he may know a guy that knows a guy. If there’s something more legal you need, he checks in with his other gang members to see who knows who

Has a wicked good memory, remembers pretty much everything you’ve said

Dope

A gentleman. He will hold doors open for you, offer his arm and hand when you walk together, brings you flowers. 

He, like all the Shishigumi, eats meat. He is self conscious about it an doesn’t want to scare you away. He will be upfront about it though. He wants honesty. he talks it out with you, and he will try and cut back but being part of the Shishigumi, and a meat addict, means it’s very hard for him to stop. He probably wont, not completely, but he tries not to do it around you. 

He doesn’t brag he’s dating you, but if he’s asked he gets this really peaceful look on his face

If you ever take him shopping at any flea market or outdoor stalls, he will get you the best bargain. He’s also amazing at helping you with any work contracts, apartment contracts and anything else.

Likes it when you brush his mane, and lets you put it up for him before he goes out. He doesn’t let you do anything fancy, but says when you do it it somehow turns out better

Hino

Hino is very attractive. His looks are what brings jobs in, so he keeps the fact that you’re dating a secret for business. 

Gives you extra affection in private because of it. Kisses, hugs, all that. His favorite is to kiss the back of your hand, he is kind of a romantic. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s still a lion. If he hears that an animal is giving you a hard time, he will take them down and look handsome AF doing it

Eats meat, and like all the other lions worries for your safety. He tends to eat before he sees you, but after a while of you dating he becomes more relaxed. He doesn’t eat in front of you though. 

Spends a ton of time getting ready for the day, you may have to fight him for the bathroom 

Compliments you a lot. He uses the basic one liners at his job with older, lonely, animals. So, he uses unique ones for you. 

“I think the sun is jealous of your smile”

Totally lets your style his mane, and if you’re going out to somewhere not the black market, he’ll keep whatever style you give him. He’s confident and pulls anything off

Calls you Darling

Worst bedhead. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

NSFW Manage yourselves safely!

Ibuki 

It was almost impossible to get him in bed with you. He’s so worried and full of anxiety. Any mood you get in, you instantly gets ruined by him being worried he’ll eat you

You’re going to have to plan in advance and spend a lot of time talking about safety and safe words

Honestly? He does try and eat you the first time. Not intentionally and he stops himself, but to be fair to HIM as an herbivore...you almost let him

It kind of ruins the mood and you end up talking it out with him. He’s so ashamed he can’t look at you for a while. 

Once time goes by, and you move pretty slow, but it’s worth it. Sex with Ibuki is amazing

Remember how Ibuki is really diligent about your limitations and you as  an herbivore? Pays OFF when he’s with you

He’s all about foreplay and making sure you are ready and prepared before he does anything. Ibuki has big dick energy. He doesn’t brag but is blessed. But he knows that with you being smaller than him, he’s not down to hurt you with it 

 He starts keeping his nails short for you. The other guys may try and tease him for it, but Ibuki gets defensive over you and so it’s short lived.

His voice drops when he’s in the mood, and he borderline growls. You’ve been teasing him all day, you really should make it up to him

Surprisingly good at dirty talk, it kind of comes naturally to him and neither of you know why

Loves your thighs, and his whiskers tickle. 

He has big hands, and when you’re alone he may saunter up behind you and run them down your sides slowly, kissing your check and down your neck. 

Best at aftercare, no matter how tired he is, he will take care of you 

Free

Is more concerned than he lets on. He tries to pretend he’s all confidence, but he has a pretty hard time getting to the point of actually having sex with you. He actually start actively avoiding it. He blue balls himself. Someone help him.

He’s used to doing what comes natural, and what if what comes natural means hurting you? He’d rather not.

When you do finally try and have sex, he doesn’t kill you...but he does bite you. You need stitches, and he has even more of a complex (tell him he just gave you a cool tattoo or something)

He may actively avoid you or being near you. It’s a set back. He’s not like Ibuki who can talk it out, he’s supposed to be a lion, not a scaredy cat. 

You have to put your foot down. You’re dating a bad ass mafia lion, not some nervous school boy. Remind him about how much you care about him and how much you want him.

The second time goes better, but he’s a LOT more careful. he does maim a few pillows, claws the mattress. Their sacrifice is appreciated. (you two become famous for ruining and destroying beds. The other guys are both impressed and disgusted. Free has no shame)

Trims his claws so he can use them the next time. He’s learning.

This male is a womanizer, but he’s not great at doing things that females would stay for? It’s more of a hit-it-and go. He knows some tricks but...not a lot. 

Tries his best though. Loves to dig his hands in your hips. Leaves bruises. One time he got hammered and asked Ibuki for advice. Ibuki was helpful, but needed therapy afterwards. 

Rough sex 90% of the time (that other 10 is passionate sex that lasts hours, it’s pretty impressive)

Once you guys get comfortable, hope you’re okay with bite marks and kiss marks. You’d have to wear winter clothing 24/7 to hide them all. He’s VERY proud of you being his female, he doesn’t want any other male getting ideas

Turns him on if you take control. Most things you do turns him on. He’s near insatiable. You could roll out of bed, eyes still squinty, mascara from last night all over, and he’s like..man, that’s hot. Hope you’re okay with having sex in weird places, he’s going to ask. 

Not great at aftercare, but BOY can he snuggle. If you’re able to walk afterwards, you wont be able to. Clingy. 

Dolph

Wants it to happen organically, but when it finally does, he catches himself.

He’s looking at you under him, how your eyes sparkle and shine, and how vulnerable you are...And the idea that he could rip out your throat comes to mind and it terrifies him. He practically throws himself off you

You have to reassure him and talk to him. 

Dolph is careful with you the first time, and while he doesn’t bite you, he does dig his claws in a little to much. They may or may not scar. He feels bad, but he’s so in the moment he can’t help it

May drool a little. Don’t tease him until later. 

He doesn’t stop until you’re satisfied. It’s a promise. You will NOT be able to walk the next day. He’s going to make the claw marks up to you if it kills you and wakes everyone in ear shot. 

Out of all of the lions, you’re safest with Dolph. He’s ”the serious one”, which makes him practical and knowing. He actually does research and goes online to inform himself. 

Love bites. He doesn’t break skin, so you’re safe there. 

Loves it when you try and claw him. You can’t do a lot, as an herbivore, but the fact your instincts try and make you...really gets him going. 

Casual at aftercare. Better than average but nothing near Ibuki or Agata.

Not a sex maniac, and with work, it’s not high on his priority list. He’ll make up for it though ;)

Agata

Likes to pretend it’s not something he’s interested in, but he is. He just doesn’t want to pressure you, or scare you. Dating a lion is one thing, being fully exposed is another and he knows it. 

He thinks about it a lot, but doesn’t act on it. You probably will have to take the lead. Agata gets way to in his head.

The sweetest kisser ever, but when he’s heated they’re like fire. Biting your lip, you face carefully with his claws just teetering on the edge of digging in. He loves kissing you, doesn’t matter where. 

Kissing will lead to other things if you don’t stop him, but do you really want to?

Likes to pull you close, and the more heated he gets the more likely he’s going to grind on you without realizing he’s doing it

Totally whines if you stop kissing him. 

Younger than the rest of the Shishigumi, and is more prone to using his instincts. He eats meat and is afraid of hurting you, but his desire to fuck your brains out is far greater than the instinct to eat you

He does end up biting you, and uses his claws. The damage he does isn’t serious, but he still fuses over you when its over. 

Takes a while to let himself near you like that again. He beats himself up. You may have to prove to him you’re tougher than you look. 

When you try again, he makes up for his shortcomings. You’re not sleeping tonight, call in sick to work tomorrow. 

You may have to ask him to slow down. He intends to go all night, you may have to curb his enthusiasm. Don’t forget to take breaks for water so you don’t pass out. 

Wont stop until you’re satisfied. Doesn’t matter how tired he is. 

Sweet nothings in your ear non stop...between the moaning. He’s surprisingly vocal

Talk to him too. Part of the reason he cares so much about you is because you see him for who he is, not his status as a lion. 

Since he doesn’t plan having sex with you, and just lets it happen naturally, he always has things in his room for you. Just in case. Please don’t tease him about it, the other lions do that enough. 

Is totally the kind of guy to help you bathe afterwards if you want.

One of the biggest snugglebugs 

Miguel

Miguel is worried about having sex with you, but no one knows it but him. 

He’s the brawn of the group, and is strong as hell. He may end up trying to show off and you may end up in positions when you have to totally vulnerable (if it makes you uncomfortable, he’ll adjust. Just talk to him)

Muscles for days. The lion is made of stone, but has surprisingly soft touches. He knows his body and knows how to use it

He’s never had sex with an herbivore, he’s thought about it, but having sex with something he may eat later didn’t sit well with him. You are a different story. He’s thought about it a little to much

First time he has sex with you he claws you, and they’re pretty deep. You end up getting stitches. Unlike a lot of the other lions though, he doesn’t avoid you afterwards. He’s there when you get stitches, intimidating the doctor (who has a small heart attack every time Miguel moves)

Apologizes but isn’t afraid to try again. He trims his claws this time, you should really tell him the other things his fingers could be used for outside clawing your back. 

Do not mess with his mane or pull it, he’ll get grumpy. 

Loves your chest and carefully uses his tongue. Doesn’t matter what size they are, he’s a fan. 

Not very vocal, but likes it when you are. 

Sabu

Sabu is older and more controlled, so you’re pretty safe with him. 

He doesn’t seem like he’s interested in it, and since he doesn’t talk much, him bringing it up comes out of no where.

“Wanna have sex?”

Just out of no where. He doesn’t talk much so he doesn’t beat around the bush. You were just scrolling on your phone, and you nearly drop it.

He doesn’t hurt you when you have sex, not even by accident, but the couch you were on gets shredded. It looks like an animal twice his size attacked it. 

Runs his hands over your body, he can’t stop touching you. 

Kiss his scars, it sooths him, and he’ll pay you back

Loves your neck, but is careful not to leave any marks (you have no idea how he doesn’t, it’s like magic)

He doesn’t care if you leave kiss marks on him

No great with aftercare, but will make sure you’re okay and kisses your cheeks and on top of your head

Jinma

Disaster. He doesn’t mean to be, he just is

He wants it to be perfect, but while he knows everything about the black market, he doesn’t know much about having sex with an herbivore. He never really though of it, and now that he is...help him. He knows rumors of herbivore and carnivore relationships that have gone wrong so...he kind of freezes up. That, and he hasn’t been in a lot of long term relationships. 

While the others do their research, Jinma goes way to into it and becomes a bit overwhelmed, but hides it. 

You end up having to take control. For someone who knows the black market like the back of his hand, Jinma is the student and you are the teacher. You’re an herbivore, and you’re going to show him just how much you know (you are the captain now)

He bites you, and he does break the skin, but he just closes his mouth and allows you to decide if you wanna continue or stop

He starts keeping a med kit in his room just in case. 

He gets better, the more he learn and the more serious he is with you. Soon he’s compiling a book of knowledge on you.. He knows where to touch to make your toes curl, what to say, and your weak spots

He takes everything he learns and uses it against you one night. He’s a fast learner. 

 Dope

Part of negotiations is to know what a person wants and what they will go through to get it. So, when you bring it up, the look in your eyes is all it takes for him to know he needs to take you serious. 

Usually his kisses are quick and satisfying, but once he actually starts to seriously kiss you its like it’s the last time he’s going to do it. 

Likes to have you in his lap. Seeing your face is important to him. Every movement and actions of your body paints a picture of what you want. 

Third best at foreplay, what drags him down is he watches you to the point that he forgets what he’s doing

When you first have sex, he ends up clawing your hips and biting your lip to hard. You lip bleeds a little and his nails break the skin.  He’s a little worried, but if you don’t tell him to stop he’ll get permission to keep going. 

Ends up also biting you, but nothing to terrible or life altering. 

He loves watching you, body language tells a person a lot about someone, so no matter where or how, he likes seeing your face. 

Afterwards, he makes sure you’re okay, and comfortable, He does the basics, but doesn’t go overboard 

May leave a kiss mark or two, but it’s accidental. He doesn’t want to embarrass you (even if seeing you with kiss marks makes the animal in him deeply satisfied)

Hino

Hino knows a females body like no other. He’s not exactly promiscuous, but he likes being satisfied

Since dating you, he hasn’t been with any other females, he’s very needy. He’s not as bad as Free, but he’s getting there.

You have no idea how he seduces you every time, one moment you’re making tea, the next, you’re on the kitchen counter 

The first time you try and have sex with him, he claws you way to hard and you end up having to get stitches and fixed up. He feels awful and can’t look you in the eye. He swears he will NEVER do it again

He never does, he keeps to his word

Unlike some of the other lions, the fact he hurt you doesn’t keep him away. He feels bad, but now he’s going to try twice as hard to make sure every time he has sex with you is amazing.

Wont stop until you’re satisfied, and just seems to naturally know your body and what you like.

While he’s composed in public, you get to see a little wild in his eyes when he fucks you. He has this low growl that rumbles through his chest that you feel deep in your body the tighter he holds you

Probably has had sex with you on most surfaces in your home. 

Above average at aftercare. He tries, but having more one night stands than not hasn’t equipped him for great aftercare. He learns though.