#everyone in team dark should have a big winter coat

[sharpedgedfool]

Ok i dont interact with canon but ive seen the channel art and by jove my boy can dress

[sinner-as-saint]

Safe and Sound.

Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: After the civil war, when Team Cap made peace with the rest of the Avengers, Bucky Barnes still had a lot to fix in his life. Bucky finds solace and all the answers he’s looking for in the cozy library café which you own in the middle of the busy city. He quickly becomes a regular client of yours, and through shy smiles, lengthy discussions regarding books and poetry, and leaving each other secret notes in book pages – you get attached to one another. More than you intended to.

Themes: Fluff, slight angst, a lil smutty

You heard the ding of the bell at the front door, which let you know that someone had walked into your library. You turned around and found your favorite client standing at the entrance – Bucky Barnes.

You immediately smiled at the sight of him. He was just such an interesting man, one couldn’t help but admire him no matter what he did. You watched as he carefully wiped his boots on the rug by the door before stepping in, always careful as to not make the floor all muddy given it had just rained outside.

He always came by with a coffee cup in his metal hand. And he would spend hours in your library, reading whatever you’d recommend, and whatever he didn’t have time to finish, he’d take home with him. He was a fast reader, you noticed a couple of weeks ago; he was always eager to finish a book, and his curiosity to learn and discover more could clearly be seen.

Of course, he had missed lots of works of literature over the years and now he was struggling to forget his gruesome past as the Winter Soldier, trying to find himself again to fit into the modern world better, fighting through bad memories and trauma and trying to catch up on what he missed while he wasn’t himself; reading became his favorite thing. It served as a hobby, as well as a coping mechanism. Whenever Bucky found himself going into a dark place again, he’d immediately turn to a book which you recommended and just within a few pages, he’d feel much better.

You and Bucky flirt a lot, but he’s also so respectful and polite and just the right amount of cheesy. He was a little old-fashioned, especially regarding his idea of romance and his take on modern romantic novels, but that was one of the many things you liked about him. He was an interesting man, and great company.

You liked him quite a lot. And he liked you back. But neither of you ever made the first step. You were too shy and he didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who has a past like his. But regardless, he had been catching feelings for you. You reminded him that there was still good left in this world; your gentleness, how tender you were with your voice and how selfless and loving you were when interacting with your clients.  

Bucky knew he would never be able to let you go. Some days, while you were busy with others or arranging the many shelves in your library, when you paid no attention to him; Bucky’s eyes would follow you discretely. He often daydreamed about what life could be like for him if you were his. Someone he could trust. Someone to come home to. Someone who would care.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked how you hummed under your breath as you walked around, working. He liked the colors you wore very often; tan coats, and soft sweaters, and golden jewelry. Bucky had been around for a long while, and he had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but he still thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on.

A couple of words from you, and he was under your spell like it was nothing.

 As for you, Bucky Barnes was not just a super soldier, he was the man who was slowly developing a love for reading, and he was also the man who could make your heart flutter just by looking into your eyes with those deep blue orbs.

Cream colored sweaters, messy hair, he was always a lovely sight. You still remembered the first time he walked into your library months ago;

-flashback-

Gloomy day. But the occasional soft murmurs of everyone scattered around your library café helped maintain the faint smile on your face. You were rearranging the modern fiction shelf, humming quietly under your breath when suddenly you noticed there was complete silence.

No soft murmurs, no fingernails hitting phone screens furiously, no pages turning, nothing. You moved from behind the shelf and approached the front desk, where you usually sat. And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ex fist of HYDRA; standing at the door of your library.

Dark jacket over his sweater, his metal arm tucked in the pocket of his jeans and a coffee in his hand. You were certain all eyes were on him for two main reasons; one being that he was part of the Avengers team, hence intimidating, and second, because he was drop dead gorgeous.

None of his pictures did him justice, you thought as you took in his broad, and muscular frame. Dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like he had been handcrafted by the Gods.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him because none of the Avengers ever swung by, despite your library café being well-known in the city. And to have one of the strongest man in the city walk into your café was not something which happened very often. Or ever really.

You felt bad for a minute because you saw how he shifted nervously under everyone’s gaze. He must hate the attention. So you decided to ease the tension.

“Mr. Barnes, come on in.” you smiled warmly at him, like you did with all your other clients. And you could feel the tension in the air beginning to diminish immediately. Almost everyone stopped staring at him, because given the way you greeted him, they thought he must be a regular client of yours – harmless despite his slightly rough demeanor.

Bucky Barnes gave you a faint smile and took some steps in. But not before wiping his slight wet boots on the rug. He was so thoughtful, not wanting to soil your floor. He walked up to the desk and looked around, seeming a little lost.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes. How may I help you?” you kept the soft smile on your face.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling to himself. “Sorry I just… it’s been forever since I stepped into a library.”

Something about that sentence made your chest hurt. He seemed so lost in this big, modern city. You knew all about him, and his past; you had read multiple articles about it. He was one of the most talked about members of the Avengers, especially since the recent fall out between Stark and Rogers. But thankfully the heroes had worked it out, and the team was whole again.

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright, Mr. Barnes. We can ease you into it. There’s no need to rush, I have all the time in the world.” he lifted his head up to look at you once he heard your words. Warmth and kindness was still new to him, and very much welcomed.

“Thank you.”

 And that was the beginning of a friendship which then became so much more. Bucky formed an instant connection with you. Your warmth, your easy-going manner, your humor and kindness; it was all he never knew he craved.

And to you, he was no longer just a client anymore. He was someone you looked forward to seeing each day. He became a habit. The image of him walking into the huge glass doors of your library became your new favorite thing.

-end of flashback-

 “Hey, doll.” he greeted you the same way each time, with a faint smile.

Your smile stretched wider at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Bucky. Finished your book?” you asked, and as always, he nodded and chuckled.

“Finished it just last night.” he said proudly. “What do you have for me next?” he asked, handing you over the book he took last time, just two days ago.

You typed on your computer for a second then looked up at him, “Depends, how did you like Miss Clark?”

He chuckled looking right into your eyes with his stormy blue eyes. “She reminds me of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Does she now?” you playfully teased. And Bucky gave you a handsome smile.

“Maybe you should read the book again. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked and you knew that smirk all too well.

You and Bucky had this thing you did where you’d leave each other cheesy notes in books. You’d leave the notes in books which you recommended him, and he’d leave his notes in books which he returned you, and that had been going on for quite some weeks now. Most of the notes were sweet and flirty, some much cheesier than others.

You smiled at him. “Alright then, go get yourself a seat. I’ll bring you some books.”

Bucky lingered for a few more seconds, just gazing at you and making your heart flutter before he finally went away to his usual seat; at the furthest corner, by the art pieces and the large window. You watched him for a brief second, how he sipped on his coffee and looked out the window, staring at the world he often wondered if he belonged in.

You went back towards the shelves and opened the book. And as per usual, you found the piece of parchment paper he always left you. There, scribbled in messy handwriting was the note he left you;

-‘… you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.’

He had left you a quote from the book itself today, like he did often. And your face felt hot and you smiled like a kid in love as you read, and re-read, the note over and over again. You couldn’t help but think of the day he had told you something quite similar; “You know, coming here and talking to you is the best part of my days.”

You blushed as you walked over to select some books for your favorite client. The fact that you two always flirted through notes in secrecy made you giddy. Bucky was an old soul, and he was an old-fashioned romantic and you had absolutely no problem with that. If anything, these secretive notes from him felt much, much more special than any text would.

You moved to the poetry section and looked for one of your favorites which he hadn’t read yet. You smiled as you found the collection and you quickly searched for a pen and a piece of parchment – which you had bought and kept solely to leave notes for Bucky.

You wrote down the two verses of one of your favorite poems and slipped the piece of parchment in before handing him the books;

“Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;

And love is love, in beggars and in kings.”

 You were undeniably falling for the metal-armed soldier. And him, you. Even though neither of you admitted it, nor confessed your true feelings to one another.

---

Two days later, Bucky came by not even a minute after you opened, no other clients were here yet. No coffee in hand, red eyes, looking like he had had a rough night and barely any sleep. Soft beige sweater, and messy hair – he looked handsome regardless.

“Hi Bucky. What’s wrong?” you asked softly, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

One look into your eyes and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in for a hug he desperately needed. Wrapping his strong arms around you and placing his head on your shoulder, he sighed loudly. “I had a nightmare. I don’t know where else to go.” He mumbled and you felt your heart tearing in half.

You wrapped your arms around his immediately, rubbing your hand softly up and down his back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged him back as tight as you could, for as long as he needed.

There, in the middle of your library on a gloomy morning, Bucky found comfort. Your hug felt like balm for a wound he had for way too long now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let you go.

You placed your chin on his shoulder and felt his body heat wrap around you. You cracked a faint smile as you caught your reflection on the nearby mirror. A strong man, broad and brawny like Bucky; seeking comfort from you. Quite an unusual sight, but you definitely something you could get used to.

You held him still, and spoke up. “You wanna go get coffee together?”

He groaned quietly, still wrapped in your arms like a big baby. “No, I don’t wanna be around other people.” He mumbled. And you smiled again, even though your chest hurt a little at his words.

He didn’t want to be around people, yet he walked all the way to your library just to see you. Something about that made you feel all warm inside. And you felt the need to cater to all his needs.

“Okay then, do you want to go to my place so we can have coffee and talk? It’s a short walk from here.” You explained, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

Bucky pulled away and nodded immediately. You smiled and went towards the desk to gather your things. You pulled out your phone and texted you two other employees, telling them to manage the library till you came by later during the day.

 The walk back to your apartment in the middle of the city was a short and silent one. Bucky held you hand all the way till there, and kept his head low. You felt him turn his head to look at you often, and whenever you caught his stare, he gave you a brief smile; making your heart flutter again.

-

“Sugar or creamer?” you asked, as you made two cups of coffee. Bucky shook his head. Black coffee then, you pushed the one mug towards him and took a seat at the island as well, facing him. “What was it about?” you asked.

Bucky kept his eyes down, understanding that you were referring to the nightmare he had. “Just… me hurting people.” A chill went down his spine as he uttered the words. He had hurt people; many of whom didn’t deserve any pain. But he had mercilessly caused pain. Immeasurable pain. And someone as tainted as him shouldn’t be around someone as warm and kind like you, he thought. He shouldn’t be here. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mumbled abruptly. “I should go.” He avoided your gaze and stood up to leave.

But then you walked over and grabbed his arm. “No.” you stopped him from leaving. “Hey, look at me,” you cupped his face, placing your other hand on his chest, and turned his head towards you. His eyes were red again, watery and sad. He blinked as he looked at you; lost and hurt, wondering if he even deserved this warmth, this attention and care. “I want you here, okay? I care, Bucky.”

He blinked again, letting your words settle in. And once it did, he leaned in for another hug.

“Do you wanna do some reading?” you asked, and he sighed.

“No.” he answered, sounding grumpy.

“Do you want me to read to you?” you asked again and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yes please.”

 And that’s how you two ended up on your large couch. Effortlessly comfortable in sharing space with one another; under cozy blankets, and Bucky placed his head on your lap and listened to your voice as you read him some of your favorite poems while mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. He liked this a lot.

“… While faithful love the watch should keep, to banish danger from thy sleep.” You ended another poem and Bucky smiled and looked up at you. “Liked that one?”

He nodded. “What’s it called?”

“Winter song.” You replied.

Very fitting, he thought and smiled to himself before looking up at you again. “Another one, please?” he asked, politely.

You giggled and flipped through the pages of the book, searching for another one. As you began reading, Bucky felt himself slipping more and more under your spell.

There was this sense of familiarity between the two of you. Despite having known each other for just some months, you felt like you knew each other for decades. It was unusual, but comforting. For instance, having him here in your home, in your living room under the same blanket as you felt delightful, and soothing.

Sure, you had a crush on the man since the day he first stepped into your life. And vice versa. But this felt like so much more. It felt satisfying, like coming home after a long day; knowing that inside these walls, you’re protected and far from the dangers of the outside, darker world. Your home and your company made Bucky feel like he was safe inside a bubble of ease and comfort. He hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. So he was grateful for you.

“…This world I saw as on her judgment day. When the war ends, and the sky rolls away. And all is light, love and eternity.” You finished the poem and looked down to find Bucky asleep on your couch, with his head on your lap.

You smiled as you admired the man. Life hadn’t been easy on him, it had been cruel and painful. And he deserved happiness, and love and light. You knew he did. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead, giving him a quick kiss before carefully slipping from under him and placing a cushion where your lap had been, making sure he was comfortable as he napped.

 And soon, that became a habit as well.

---

Bucky spent much more time in your apartment than he did at the compound. And it felt strangely like a norm you two had been following for years, when in reality it had been just weeks. Perhaps it was because there was no sexual tension in between you two… yet, but you just needed one another to feel normal and complete.

Many days you’d wake up and find him in your kitchen. And you’d sleepily walk over to him, give him a kiss on the shoulder, or his neck, or cheek – whatever was reachable. And he’d smile and kiss your forehead and make you coffee.

Then you’d walk till the library together, and he’d spend some time in there, until he received a call from the team. Of course, he still went on missions, and sometimes you wouldn’t see him for 2-3 days. But in the end, he’d always come back to you.

And you knew he relied on you a lot. Be it calling you in the middle of the night – when he slept at the compound, or when he was away on missions – after he’s had a terrible nightmare and telling you that he just needed to hear your voice to feel better. Or crashing on the couch in your room because he just can’t be alone, and needs to be as close to you as possible. Or how he’d often spend hours hanging out with you, asking you politely to read to him.

You loved taking care of him. And you never realized that you relied on him too. And you didn’t know you couldn’t live without him either, until the time when you didn’t seen him for weeks.

Calls, voicemails, messages, he replied to none. You didn’t even know if he was just unavailable, or isolating himself or worse, had had a mission go wrong.

You thought of the worse. Him hurt, and alone, trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You knew he was strong, and could fight his way out of anything. But although enhanced, he was human still.

Your days became mundane and bland without your favorite metal-armed super soldier. The littlest of things reminded you of him. The extra mug out on your counter. The creamer in the fridge which he never used. The knitted blanket he loved but wouldn’t admit to loving it because it was bright, obnoxiously pink. The hair band he had left on your coffee table. The books you planned on reading to him, but didn’t get the chance yet.

Please come back to me…

You cried the first night. Then by the end of the first week without him, you weren’t cheery anymore, you just felt empty. You knew you could always reach out to the rest of the team and ask about him, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. Besides, they wouldn’t even know who you are.

So all you could do was wait. You heard around that some of the Avengers had gone on a mission, and you didn’t know if it was entirely true because a lot of people just gossiped about stuff they didn’t know for sure.

But hearing that he might just be away on a mission was somewhat comforting. Still, you were worried sick.

 ---

You sure missed him, but you didn’t know just how much until you couldn’t hold back the tears the day he finally showed up at the entrance of your library one morning, almost two weeks later.

“Hey doll.” he seemed a little tired. And bruised. His flesh arm had bandages around the knuckles up till his wrist. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent.

Bucky felt both relief and pain as he took in the look on your face. Your watery eyes and the look of relief in your eyes as well.

“Buck…” you whispered and you walked over to him and rushed into his arms, paying barely any attention to some of the people who were sat inside your café. You tried your hardest to seem chill, and calm and collected.

But you couldn’t hold back the tears. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky and wet his sweater with your tears. Not sobbing, but just letting out all the emotions you had been bottling up during his absence. “Where were you?” you asked, sniffling.

Bucky cracked a little smiled and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Long, tiring mission. I didn’t have my phone. Sorry I left so suddenly.”

You sniffled again and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s okay. It’s your job, I understand. I just… missed you a lot. I thought you… I thought you wouldn’t come back to me.” You lowered your eyes to the ground, staring at his boots instead.

He grabbed your chin gently and moved lifted your face so he could look at you. God knows he had missed you so terribly as well.

“I missed you too, doll.” he said with a weary smile. The nickname he had given you shortly before disappearing on you for two whole weeks still made you feel all tingly.

You didn’t want to cry so you leaned in for another hug. Wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your forehead against his chest, you sighed loudly and inhaled his lovely, masculine scent. “Don’t leave me.” You mumbled.

You heard him let out a little chuckle as his arms tightened around you. “I won’t, doll. I’m here. I’ll always come back to you.” His words made your heart flutter again. And you pulled away, wiping your tears and maintaining your composure, not wanting to been seen all teary by the rest of your clients.

You sniffled again, looking down at your shoes. And another tear fell. Bucky reached out and wiped it gently. You spoke up again, “You can’t just disappear like that. I was so worried.” You were still upset. Relieved that he was alright, but upset nonetheless.

Bucky was in awe. No one ever cared this much when he was away on mission. The whole world saw him as an ex-assassin, the fist of HYDRA, now an Avenger, a super-soldier who was designed to fight and end battles which he didn’t even start. Not many people made him feel like he was human too. That he feels pain when he’s kicked or punched, or shot at. That his wounds bleed just like anyone else.

But you did. Around you, it was okay for him to be vulnerable. Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your skin. “I didn’t know I would end up being away for so long. Although, I would love to make it up to you. Movie night?”

You looked up at him and immediately remembered the last time you had a movie night, around three weeks ago. And how the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch and you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled with his. It was the best night of sleep both of you had in a long time.

You nodded quickly.

 ---

Movie nights with Bucky definitely earned a top ranking on your list of favorite things. It was adorable how he had countless questions about movies, and how he’d point out every little detail which you missed out on. Or how he gradually inched closer and closer to you on the couch, until his thighs were touching yours.

And your whole body felt like it had been electrified the minute he casually placed his hand on your thigh, barely paying any attention to you as he watched the movie. Your body was burning hot under his touch. And you squirmed just a little when the pad of his thumb lazily caressed your skin; in an innocent, affectionate manner – but which also filled your brain with filth.

“You okay, doll?” he asked in that velvety smooth voice of his which made you weak in the knees.

You cleared your throat and tried to push all the filthy thoughts out of your mind. “Yeah. Yeah, why?” you almost stuttered as he gently moved the palm of his hand up and down your thigh. You looked up at him and he was smirking.

Oh, so he’s been doing this on purpose?

“You look a little…” he trailed off as he gently leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “… troubled.” He chuckled as he heard you gasp. He pulled away and studied your face for a second. You looked fierce, and ready to pounce on him; obviously frustrated and turned on by his antics. “Come here, doll.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as you lowered your body onto his lap. You immediately felt something hard pressing into you, right in between your legs.

“I still have to make up for the time I’ve been gone, don’t I doll?“

 ---

 You woke one morning, feeling tingly. So much so that your own giggle chased away all the remnants of the previous night’s sleep. You looked to your side and noticed that Bucky wasn’t there. And then you felt him. More specifically, his mouth. Right in between your legs.

He mouth latched on to your wet heat and he ate you out, coaxing you to wake up. Gently, as always. You peaked under the blankets and found him tongue-fucking you. You threw the blanket off the both of you to get a better look at him.

Since that one movie night, about a month ago, you and Bucky had been sleeping in the same bed each night. Except on days when the team needed him for a mission or something. But other than that, he lived with you most of the time. And you were the happiest person ever.

“Well good morning to me.” You spoke, voice still a little groggy from your deep slumber, but also a little hoarse due to last night. Bucky was always a little more needy and passionate, and insatiable whenever he returned from missions; like last night.

You watched how he pulled away from your wet folds and looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes you were in love with. “Morning baby.” he whispered, flashed you a breathtaking smile, and got back to pleasuring you. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky’s hands locked around your thighs as he pushed the lower half of his mouth further into you, teasing you with his tongue.  

He had you moaning and squirming under him, slipping his tongue in between your wet folds, poking at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your fingers grabbed his hair and you tugged on it occasionally, and it drove him wild each time. He loved every inch of you, and he made sure to show you just that each and every day.

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, you came all over his mouth, and he lapped up all that you gave him. Wanting more and more. His hunger for you couldn’t ever be satiated fully, he concluded. Especially not when he woke up next to a naked you almost each day.

Bucky kissed his way up your body, stopping every second and kissing every inch of your skin until he reached your mouth; where he kissed you passionately, deeply. Licking the inside of your mouth hungrily, making you moan and feel dizzy just from a kiss.

He finally pulled away and looked down at you. “I am so in love with you. It’s crazy.” He whispered. And lowered his body onto yours, pushing his face into the crook of your and peppering your skin with kisses again.

“I am madly in love with you too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, smiling to yourself and relishing his body heat. Loving Bucky came with its own challenges, but there was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him.

As for him, you were the stability and sense of belonging which he sought for so long. And now he had it, and he wasn’t letting go you of you anytime soon. You were his, and that alone made him the happiest he had ever been all his life. You were his safe haven.

And you both silently promised to keep each other safe and sound.

[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. 

[hellsenthero]

Sweet Cherry Gloss

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X FemReader

He could still taste Y/N’s sweet cherry gloss. Aka - It’s important to cherish the little moments in life, because you never know when it will all come to a crashing end. 

Warnings/themes: Fluff, ANGST, violence, death. (2K Words.)

**********

Being with Bucky wasn’t easy by a long shot, but damn it if it wasn’t the best thing Y/N has ever experienced. 

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N mumbled out. She lay propped up with her back to Bucky’s chest in bed, his metal hand wrapped around her waist delicately while his other played with her hair. Her eyes remained closed as she bathed in Bucky’s soft caresses. 

“I know, I don’t either. But if we don’t go to the meeting Tony will kill us.” 

“Fine then,” Y/N turned around in her lover’s arms, her eyes opening up to peer at Bucky’s baby blues, “but I want a treat for it after.” Bucky let out a loud laugh, his hands squeezing her just a touch tighter as he lowered his head to lightly nip at her lips. 

“You’re insatiable, but I can’t exactly say no to this pretty little face now, can I?” Y/N shook her head, her lips turned up into a playful smile. 

“Nope, you can’t.” She answered with a laugh. Bucky pressed a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips, the taste of her sweet cherry gloss coating his mouth. 

“Come on, let’s go to the meeting. Then I got some plans for us afterwards.” Hoping off of the bed Bucky left their room, making his way towards the meeting room with Y/N right behind him. 

“What plans?” She asked as she came up to his side. Bucky turned his head, a playful smirk gracing his face. 

“I’m not telling you, it’s a surprise.” Y/N pouted her lips, her eyes widening in an attempt  to get Bucky to spill his secrets at her puppy dog look. Bucky laughed, his head shaking at her as they finally reached the glass door to the meeting room. 

“That look won’t work this time, Y/N. My lips are sealed.” Y/N narrowed her eyes as her boyfriend opened up the door for her. 

“I’ll get the information from you after Barnes, I have my ways.” She said with a wink. 

“Finally, everyone’s here.” Tony said as the couple walked into the room. 

“What’s this about, Tony?” Nat called out from where she sat, legs crossed lazily as she picked at her nails.

“We got a mission.” Tony answers back coolly. Grumbles and groans sound through the room, everyone disappointed that their day off is cut short. “Listen,” Tony began, waving a hand at the wide screen behind him, a map popping up on it, “we got word that there’s a Hydra base nearby, we believe there’s civilians inside. We need to get in, get them out. There shouldn’t be too many Hydra operatives inside from what we can tell but Fury still wants most of the team on for this mission. Any questions?” Silence answered back at Tony’s words and he gave a nod. “Good. Suit up, we leave in five.” A groan slipped past Bucky’s lips, the sound catching Y/N’s attention as they walked back out of the meeting to go suit up. 

“You upset about your surprise plans?” She asked. Bucky shrugged his shoulders at her. 

“A little, but I think it should still be alright, it’s still early.” Y/N gave a wide, beaming smile at him. 

“I can’t want to see, Buck.”

Everyone remained seated on the quinjet, feet tapping against the floor quietly, hands fisting at their sides as they mentally prepared for the mission. Given Bucky’s past with Hydra, any missions evolving them were always stressful for Bucky and his girlfriend. 

“I’ll stay close.” Y/N said softly as she leaned over to speak into Bucky’s ear. She knew he didn’t like going into any of their bases, that these missions brought up horrible memories for him. She also knew he stressed about her when they weren’t paired up for missions together, the same way she stressed about him. 

“Good.” He answers back coolly. His tone a touch harsher, his posture stiff, his metal hand flexing at his side. It was all a way for him to prepare mentally for the mission ahead. As though he were putting on a suit of armor. 

“We’re here.” Tony called out from the front of the jet. 

“Right,” Steve speaks up as he stands from his seat, everyone following after him, “Tony and Sam, I want you in the sky. Look out for any trouble and take out who you can. Wanda and Clint, you guys take the South entrance of the base. Y/N and Bucky take North. Nat and I will cover the rest. Bruce-” 

“Stay on the jet unless you need the big guy,” he says for Steve. Steve nods his head before walking out of the jet just as it touches down. 

Y/N steps out onto green grass, Bucky at her side as they make their way over to the North side of the base. A great, wide metal door greeting them, no guards to be found. 

“I don’t like this, it’s too quiet.” Y/N says to Bucky. The brunette nods his head, the hand holding his gun gripping it just a touch tighter. 

“It’s pretty quiet on the North side,” Bucky says into his comms, “something’s up.” Y/N expects to hear some of her teammates voices sound through her comm, but all she’s met with is silence. She shares another warning look with her boyfriend before they open up the metal door and creep inside the base quietly. 

It’s eerie, Y/N thinks as she walks through the dimly lit hallway. It’s all so quiet, the only sound that can be heard is the quiet tapping of her and Bucky’s walk. She’d almost believe that the base was abandoned, if it wasn’t for the skin crawling sensation she had of being watched. She knows Bucky feels it too by the way he walks beside her, so close his arm touches hers with each sway of it, a silent reminder to him that she’s there at his side, that she’s safe. 

It doesn’t last long though, as they walk into an open room to their right the other shoe finally drops. 

It’s a trap. 

Men come out from the darkness, so many that it’s a wonder Y/N and Bucky hadn’t caught on before now. Guns in hand they approach, a sea of black in the dimly lit room. 

“Soldat, welcome.” A chilling voice croons. Bucky’s eyes widen, his shoulders stiffen, colour draining from his face. He turns around, grabbing your arm as he takes a step towards the door, a need to get you to safety before it all goes bad. But more men walk in through the open door, blocking their only way out. “I told you we’d meet again, Soldat. Did you not believe me?” Slyly, Y/N presses the zipper on her jacket, a small tracker Tony had placed on her uniform when she joined the team. “I’m so happy to see you’ve come home, Soldat, and that you brought a friend.” 

“The girl has nothing to do with this, let her go and I’ll stay.” Bucky calls out into the dark room. He can’t see the man speaking to him, but he knows exactly who it is. It’s a voice that haunts his nightmares, chilling, cold, cruel, pain. Y/N shakes her head furiously, looking up at Bucky as she grasps onto his arm tightly. 

“No,” she whispers. 

“Y/N, this is the only way I can-” Bucky’s cut off by the same man as before. 

“This is all very touching, but the girl stays. After all, she’s really the one we’re after.” 

“What?” Bucky chokes out. If Y/N thought Bucky looked frightened before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now. A dark chuckle echoes through the room making a shiver crawl up Y/N’s spine at the haunting sound.

“We know about Wakanda, Soldat. About the procedure you had, undoing all the fine work we’d done on you. We know that the triggers don’t work anymore.” A pause, the air so thick with tension that it chokes Y/N. “Didn’t we tell you Soldat, that we punish for insubordination? I thought you would have learned that by now.” 

Men fly forward, too fast and too many for Bucky and Y/N to fight. Their weapons drop to the floor, rough hands grabbing onto them tightly, separating them. The pair of them fight the grip the men have on them, their arms twisting, legs kicking, but it’s no use. The man steps forward, into the low light of the room and Bucky’s forced to look into the face of the man that haunts his dreams and waking hours. He pulls a gun from his side, a lazy grip on it as he waves it around. His lips turn up into a cruel smile, his head turned in a way that’s almost playful. He knows he holds all the power, that he has the Winter Soldier right where he wants him. “It’s time you’re punished, Soldat.”

 A single gunshot rings through the room, echoing for all to hear. It’s funny, almost, the amount of times Bucky’s been shot and yet now, it’s just one, single bullet. A single bullet is all it takes for his world to come to a crashing end. His heart stops, his blood turning ice cold, tears welling up in his eyes that spill down his cheeks. Blood is already staining the floor, deep scarlet dripping onto grey concrete. 

No. No. No. No. This is a nightmare. I’ll wake up. This isn’t real. She’s still alive.

But it is real. It’s all so painfully real to Bucky as Y/N’s body slumps forward, the men holding her up let go and she falls to the floor, unmoving, unconscious, dead.  

It’s then that the rest of the Avengers burst into the room. Guns drawn, bullets flying, shouts of pain and anger filling up the room. But Bucky doesn’t notice any of it. He doesn’t notice the bullets flying over his dead as he slumps to the floor, crawling over to his lover’s dead body. He doesn’t notice the calls of his name from his comrades as he lifts Y/N’s limp body into his lap, her blood quickly staining his hands and legs. It’s all a blur as he stares down at her, her skin drained of colour, blood seeping from the wound in her chest. The world is all a pointless, dark, soundless blur to him as he gazes at her. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please come back, please. I need you.”

But she doesn’t come back, the girl’s chest remains still, her eyes remaining closed. 

Bucky doesn’t remember leaving the base, or the jet ride back. He doesn’t remember the silent, slow walk back to his room, Y/N’s room. He just sits there, on the edge of the bed. Gazing at the blank wall before him, blinds closed and door locked.

Bucky had plans for tonight. He made a reservation at Y/N’s favourite restaurant for dinner. There they’d sip bubbly champagne over warm food and burning candles as they laughed and talked. The drive home would be quiet, comfortable, soft touches and gentle looks shared. Back home he’d run her a bath, lavender scented bubbles filling the tub just how she liked. And then, as she soaked in the warm water he’d get down on one knee, reciting the speech he had prepared as he pulled out the little black box from his pocket. Opening it up in the palm of his hand he would have asked you the question that’s been burning in his mind since the day he realized he’d fallen so deeply and helplessly in love with you. 

Will you marry me, Y/N?

It was a question he’d never receive an answer to, he realized as he sat alone in his darkened room. His hand slid into his pocket, pulling out the little black box he’d been carrying around for weeks now. Even in the dark room, he could see the glittering diamond as he opened the box up. 

Heavy tears poured down Bucky’s cheeks, even through the salt of them he could still taste Y/N’s sweet cherry gloss on his lips. 

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” He whispered out into the darkness. 

Silence echoed back at him. 

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 20/?

For @averysterekwinter day 3 (Theme: snow/ice)

Snow Day

(Plus here’s a fluffy ficlet, the rest under the cut because it got a bit long)

The first thing Stiles noticed when he woke up was that outside was white.

It was snowing, and not the drizzle of snowflakes that would melt upon hitting ground that was more usual for the area. No, there was a thick layer of white over everything in sight.

The second thing he noticed was the thing that woke him up: a text on his phone. He didn’t want to call it hypervigilance, because that implied a whole host of other issues he didn’t want to address, but even just the vibration of his phone from a single text was enough to rouse him.

It was an inconvenient habit (it was winter break and he wanted to sleep in, dammit), but he was grateful he had been roused when he read the text.

The text was from Derek and simply said Come to pack house ASAP.

Rest of fic under the cut!

He considered calling or texting to ask what was wrong, but he had gotten enough texts like that to know he wouldn’t get a response. If he wanted any answers, he would have to go to the pack house.

Stiles and Derek had been dating for around a year now, but they rarely texted. Well, Derek rarely texted. Stiles texted and Derek sometimes reluctantly replied. He wasn’t a big fan of technology. Kind of annoying considering Stiles was usually away at his campus, but Derek’s almost weekly visits more than made up for it.

So seeing this text immediately concerned Stiles. Pair that with the unusual snow, and he assumed the worst.

His mind whirred with different possibilities. Did a witch cast a spell? Was Jack Frost making a visit? Was some new dark Druid coming to fuck with nature?

He knew he was being a bit irrational, but he had learned to assume the worst when it came to Beacon Hills, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen actual snow at home in his lifetime. His past experiences didn’t allow him the luxury of excitement about novelties.

Overall, the combination of the unusual weather and the text from Derek calling for an emergency meeting had Stiles on edge and falling out of his bed in his haste to head out.

He didn’t have a good snow jacket so he just put on as many layers as was comfortable and a coat. He grabbed some gloves, and mourned for his converse which would surely not do well in the snow.

Stiles rushed out to his car, noting his dad had already left for the station. He was grateful to note the roads had already been cleared, as he wasn’t sure if his jeep could handle snow and ice.

He parked when he reached the edge of the preserve. They had cleared a dirt road so that they would be able to drive to the pack house, but it wasn’t an official street so the city had no reason to clear it of snow. 

Stiles understood why it wasn’t cleared of snow, but he was still annoyed. Fortunately, the snow wasn’t slushy, so at least his feet weren’t soaked. Still, his converse and jeans did little to protect him from the cold, and he walked as quickly as he could, while also watching out for any possible ice patches. 

By the time the pack house was in sight, Stiles was shivering, and ready to yell at Derek for making him come all this way when phones were a thing. 

Derek was standing in front of the pack house, and Stiles had no qualms about yelling and walking at the same time.

“Hey, jerk, there better be a good reason you called me out here, like dead bodies good reason. I am just a human without all the werewolf heat mojo, and I’m on break, so there are not a whole lot of reasons I should be anywhere except in bed sleeping right now.”

Stiles couldn’t really make out Derek’s face, but he knew it wasn’t as remorseful as it should have been.

Stiles sighed loudly and continued marching toward the house, looking down again to make sure he didn’t step in anything which would make him even more uncomfortable.

It was as soon as he looked down that he felt it, the cold becoming even colder, ice running through his veins.

He was under attack!

He looked up with a gasp, eyes searching for the assailant, for what cruel monster had thrown a snowball right at him. 

He was surprised to see that all of the pack had appeared in front of the house (damn werewolf speed), all wearing smirks of varying deviousness. 

Derek had his arm still raised, and Stiles knew he was the perpetrator (he wasn’t even wearing gloves but already had another snowball in his other hand, he clearly had an unfair advantage). 

In fact, everyone had a snowball prepared, and they were all staring right at Stiles with an evil gleam.

“Whoa! Who decided everyone would team up against me? This seems totally unfair.”

“It’s not everyone against you,” Scott said.

“It’s every man for himself,” Isaac finished for him, and threw a snowball right at Derek’s face.

And then it was chaos.

Stiles made as many snowballs as he could while the werewolves were distracted amongst themselves, thanking god he had thought to put on gloves. 

When Stiles was pretty sure he had a good amount of ammo stockpiled, he called to Scott. “Scotty, it’s snow time!”

Ever since they were young, when they had any sort of battle, whether it be nerf guns or water balloons, “It’s show time,” was their codeword to create an alliance. They would join forces and blindside their opposite.

(Stiles may or may not have been waiting his whole life to get to use that snow time pun).

Stiles began constructing a kick ass fortress as Scott ran over and began throwing Stiles’ snowballs at a pace only werewolves were capable of. 

When he popped up to check how Scott was doing, he was blindsided by three rapid succession snowballs right to the face. 

All from his boyfriend.

“Rude! And totally unwarranted!” Stiles shouted.

Derek glared at him. “It was revenge for that awful pun.”

Stiles gaped. “Oh you have snow idea what you’ve just started.”

He ducked before Derek had even thrown the next snowball.

The battle lasted close to another hour (Stiles cursed werewolf endurance), hundreds of snowballs and a handful of puns thrown.

It was at the time that his gloves were soaked through and he thought his fingers might fall off if he made one more snowball that he decided to call it quits.

He turned to look at Scott who was hiding with him behind the fortress and gave one nod. They stood up in unison, shouting their surrender with their hands up.

They were immediately pelted with a flurry of balls.

Stiles’ arms fell to his side. “Really? When we were surrendering? Do you snow snow bounds?”

The rest of the pack stared at him with blank stares.

“Fine, whatever, clearly nobody appreciates me nor understands my genius. Sorry my puns are too advanced for you all.” Stiles shook his head in disappointment and began to head to the house.

And promptly fell on his ass.

The rest of the pack burst into laughter (including Scott, the traitor, who was quick to abandon him), and Stiles glared at the sky from where he lay, cursing the world for this injustice.

Derek walked over, a smirk clear on his face while he looked down at Stiles. “You good?”

Stiles grumbled. “Yes. I meant to do that.”

Derek looked even more amused. “Oh really? And why is that?” Derek asked even as he offered a hand to help Stiles up.

“So I could do this!” Stiles shouted as he pulled down Derek with all his might with the offered hand. He knew Derek must not have been expecting it, because he actually managed to pull him down with an exclamation.

His victory was short lived, as he realized the consequences of his actions. He groaned. “God, you’re so heavy.”

“And you’re so dumb.” Derek got up on his elbows so he was slightly above Stiles. 

Stiles stared dreamily up at his boyfriend, deciding to ignore the insult. “Hey, did it hurt?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you pulled me down? Not really, I had a squishy human to cushion my fall.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, when you fell from heaven,” Stiles smiled widely, “Because you’re a snow angel.” He rolled them so he was above Derek.

Derek sighed heavily but remained limp as Stiles grabbed his arms, sliding them up and down through the snow in the classic snow angel motion.

Stiles rolled away from Derek when he got as close to an angel as he could and made his own, laughing the whole time. 

Derek sat up from where he had been manhandled. “Why do I put up with you?”

“It’s because you glove me!” Stiles shouted, removing one of his gloves (which at this point had become so soaked from snow that it was just making him more cold) and tossing it at Derek.

“Don’t take off your gloves, you dumbass!” Derek said, looking scandalized. Stiles couldn’t really blame him for his concern. Stiles was a human, and therefore susceptible to pesky things like hypothermia, but Derek should have thought of that before he started a snowball battle. 

Derek stood up and lifted Stiles up, hauling him over his shoulder.

Stiles didn’t really mind, since it got him out of the snow and gave him a great view of Derek’s ass.

“Just admit you’re s-mitten!” He took off his other glove and slapped Derek’s ass with it.

~~~

An hour later, Stiles was wearing multiple layers of Derek’s (dry) clothes, wrapped in a blanket, cuddling against his furnace boyfriend, surrounded by the pack.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but even if some people were needlessly cruel to me today, I had an ice time.”

The pack groaned, except Scott, who added, “Icy what you did there!”

Stiles leaned over to high five Scott.

“I will kick out the next person to make a pun,” Derek interjected.

Stiles rolled his eyes, even as he cuddled back into Derek’s side. “Ugh, whatever you say, Frosty.”

Derek glared down at Stiles, looking prepared to retaliate.

Stiles put his hands up in mock surrender. “That wasn’t a pun, that was a reference.”

“Well it wasn’t a very good one, since Frosty was a holly jolly soul.”

Stiles beamed. “Oh my god, my boyfriend knows his Christmas classics. I think I’m in love.”

“We know,” the rest of the pack responded in unison, but Stiles was too busy staring up at his boyfriend in adoration to care.

~~~ 

Later that night, when they laid together in bed, Stiles looked up at Derek, and his fondness shined bright. “I love you.”

Derek looked back at him, equally fond, and smirked and said, “I know.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit him for ruining the moment, or kiss him senseless for quoting Star Wars. He did neither, because he couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“You mean, you snow?”

The ensuing slap on the back of his head was well worth it.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[didn’t realize you were a scientist]

It’s cold outside so Clementine and Louis cuddle. 

There’s other stuff too but who cares about plot when there’s cuddling to be done. 

[screenshot from @pi-creates​]

 Read on AO3

Winter hit hard and fast. 

Despite their best efforts, many windows within Ericson weren’t fully insulated and boarded up before the first snowfall. Though it seemed luck remained in their favor-- this first snowfall was barely more than a flurry. Still, paired with the harsh winds and gloomy skies, it left everyone scurrying for heavier coats and extra socks to wear as they finished the last preparations for the cold.

Well, everyone besides Louis, who still donned his favorite jacket and tattered, green shirt. Clementine thought maybe he didn’t have anything else until Ruby chewed him out that morning, demanding he go put his other coat on before he gets sick. 

His response was to button up his jacket, then pat Ruby on the head with a smile. Ruby, cheeks flushed red with both annoyance and the cold,  made to punch him in the arm. Louis expected the blow and took it with a snicker, still grinning as she continued to scold him. 

“Maybe you can talk sense into him,” Ruby told Clementine before she walked away. “Sure as hell ain’t listenin’ to me.” 

She could be heard grumbling something about the greenhouse and frozen soil as she made her way towards Aasim, AJ, and Tenn by the gates.

As it turns out, even Clementine couldn’t talk Louis into departing from the jacket in favor of something warmer, though he did eventually do up another button with a “There, okay?” look when she grew sterner with him. Not that it made a difference. 

Once that was settled, Aasim put them in charge of boarding up the remaining dorm windows so that no one would be snowed on tonight. Louis only gave him a little bit of a hard time about it, mostly for his own amusement. Once Aasim was worked up enough, Louis waved him off. 

With a wink in her direction, Louis held out his fist to Clementine.

“Team fun?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she connected her fist to his. 

“Team fun.” 

They spent the day bringing in scavenged planks of wood and old, musty blankets no one wanted anymore to board up dorm windows. That was their only task for the day, but a big task at that with eight large windows to cover, which required plenty of nails they had to search every nook and cranny of the basement for.  

Luckily they had each other’s company, which made the work less tedious and the time pass quickly. 

If only the cold hadn’t leaked within the walls of the dorms. While Louis seemed fine working in the chillier environment, only offering an off-hand complaint about it once in a while, Clementine had a harder time. Not only did the cold bother her leg, but it always made her think of when AJ was just a baby, and their time spent at Wellington. Not all awful memories, of course, but for every good memory, many bad ones followed. 

“Did you know that if walkers get cold enough, they stop moving?” she asked him absently when they finished up Violet and Brody’s dorm. 

“I did not know that,” Louis raised a curious brow at her. “And I take it you know that from experience?”

“We lived in a community up north for a while when AJ was just a baby. We got stuck in a storm after our truck ran out of gas and-- well, I had to walk through a bunch of them. They were frozen like statues, and it was snowing so hard that you couldn’t really see them until you almost ran into one. It was…” she trailed off, but Louis seemed to have the idea.

“Terrifying? Eerie?” 

“Yeah, something like that.”

He didn’t push any further.

It was especially cold in Willy’s room-- his window had no glass left in it, allowing plenty of snow to fly in, leaving the floor slippery. The painful wind whipped against their skin as they worked.

It made her hands tremble, which didn’t help Clementine keep the boards straight while Louis nailed them in place. After he asked her if she was okay for the third time since they got there and she assured him through chattering teeth, Louis ran back to his dorm. He came back with a pair of thick gloves, helping her slip them on despite her protests. 

He teased her, clasping both of her gloved hands in his and rubbing warmth into them. She would’ve bitten back with a remark of her own, but she was sure he would’ve let go, so she thanked him instead. 

By the time night fell and they were back in her dorm covering the final window, Clementine’s fingers were sore and stiff from the cold seeping into her gloves. 

Leaning against the frame of her bunk bed with a lit lantern in hand, Clementine watches Louis kneel on the dresser, a couple of nails poking out from between his lips as he hammered away, securing the second to last piece of wood over the window frame. Luckily the wind outside calmed down and the snow stopped, making this window the easiest to secure. 

With him so intently focused on hitting the nails rather than his thumb, Clementine allows her eyes to wander over him without getting caught. 

Not that it’d be a big deal if he caught her staring again, just as it’s not a big deal when she catches him. 

Clementine tugs at her necklace absentmindedly, curling the chain around her finger as she watches him, enjoying the quiet song he’s humming as he works. 

The curve of Louis’ nose shouldn’t be so interesting, she decides, nor should the freckles spreading over his cheeks. And his lips definitely shouldn’t be as interesting as they are. 

Clementine smiles, gripping the small charm dangling from the chain-- a piano key. 

“I want you to wear this. For luck.”

“Really? But--”

“No buts, Clem. When we bring everyone home and we’re all safe and sound, then you can give it back, but until then I want you to wear it.”

Louis shifts uncomfortably, muttering “shit” through his teeth as he moves to sit cross-legged on the dresser. 

“You okay?” 

He spits the nails out, mouth twisted in discomfort.

“My legs are asleep.” 

“Wake them up.”

“Has anyone ever told you how hilarious you are?”

“Every day.” 

Louis smiles at her, giving a little shake of his head. Glancing down at her leg, he asks, “Still doing okay?”

She gives him her best reassuring smile. 

“No worse than usual.” 

“But no better?”

“My leg’s okay, Lou.”

He resumes his work of putting the final nail on the board, and Clementine resumes studying his profile. 

Usually, his dreads fell over his face from this angle, obscuring her view.  Today’s different.

When they were boarding up the window in Tenn’s room, Louis let out a small sigh as Clementine spoke about… something? Honestly, she can’t recall what they were talking about, but she definitely remembers Louis setting his hammer down and pulling something from his wrist-- a hair tie. Then, he tied his dreads back before resuming his work, as if doing this was nothing. 

Well, it probably was nothing.

Rather, it should be nothing, something she doesn’t think twice about, and if she does think about it, something she shouldn’t feel nervous to comment on. Clementine should be able to tell him she likes it when he pulls his dreads back from his face. 

She already knows what he’ll do. He does the same thing every time. His dark eyes will go wide for just a moment at the compliment, then as if realizing he has to make of joke, he will. 

Then she’ll tell him she’s serious. His cheeks will flush, and with such sincerity, he’d thank her.  

However, the problem tonight isn’t that Louis’ first instinct is to joke about every compliment she gives him or that she’s too nervous to tell him how nice he looks. 

It’s started weighing on her mind-- her feelings for him, his for her, their friendship, and whether or not this is the right move to make. 

Next to AJ, Louis is her closest companion. Her best friend. He stuck by her side from the beginning, despite everything that happened with Marlon and the raiders, and she realized quickly that she loved him. 

And he loved her, too. 

That wasn’t presumptuous of her to believe, not when he himself told her so.

Last year when Clementine came limping through the gates with AJ practically holding her up, Aasim and Ruby were there to grab and rush her to the dorms. It wasn’t much later after Ruby cleaned and stitched her room that she heard Louis and Aasim arguing outside the door. From what she gathered, Aasim didn’t wake Louis up to let him know they made it back safely, choosing to let him sleep after he practically passed out from exhaustion the night before. 

He wasn’t sure they made it, not after they got separated from him and Tenn. He brought Tenn back to the school and wanted to turn right back, but Aasim had stopped him. 

The relief he felt fell from his eyes in the form of tears upon seeing her in bed, leg a mess, and her smiling at him. She touched the piano key charm.

“It worked.”

Weeks turned into months as Clementine healed, but Louis visited her every single day. When spring came around and she got better enough to move around with crutches, he took her for walks around Ericson.

It was when they were sitting together on the steps leading into the admin building. Her leg started to bother her, so Louis forced her to sit down and rest. He sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch. As they watched AJ and Tenn practice their shooting with Aasim in their makeshift archery rage, he said it. 

“Clem?”

“Yeah?”

She remembers his hesitation, the contemplation playing loud in his eyes before the words came out quiet but sure.

“I love you.” 

When she didn’t say anything-- she didn’t know what to say-- he looked at her, not breaking their shared gaze as he continued. 

“I just-- I thought you should know that. I’m glad you’re not dead, and I’m glad to have you for a best friend. I’m glad you’re here.” 

She could’ve kissed him-- she should’ve kissed him-- but instead, she grabbed his hand and held it with both of hers, rested her cheek on his shoulder, and exhaled a shaky breath before saying it back. 

God, she should’ve kissed him, or at least made it clear that she loved him as both a best friend and something more. Hell, she should’ve told him so the night of the raider’s attack, though at that time, she had an excuse-- with the impending raid, she couldn’t let herself become distracted with romance, despite her feelings. 

What’s her excuse now?

“Please tell me we’re not outta nails,” Louis says, his casual words nearly making her jump. Clementine sets the lantern down to reach into her pocket, struggling to get the nails remaining out. Yanking the glove off, she ends up stabbing her fingers but successfully freeing them. 

“No,” she clears her throat. “We should have enough to finish this.”

“Y’know, maybe we should relocate somewhere warmer,” Louis says, holding out his hand. “Like Texas, or maybe Florida since it’s closer. Wait, no, I hear they have huge mosquitoes.”

“Mosquitoes? I’m sure the alligators are a bigger threat.”

“That settles it, we’re going to Texas.”

Clementine places the nails in his open palm, fingers brushing against his skin. The contact left her whole hand tingling. 

“I’ve never been there,” she says, flexing her fingers, not bothering to put the glove back on. She takes a slow intake of air through her nose in hopes of calming her excited heart. 

“Neither have I, but I hear they don’t have to board up their windows so they don’t wake up covered in snow.”

Together, they line up the final board. Clementine holds it firmly in place as Louis hits the first nail. 

“You know how long it’d take us to get to Texas?” 

“Well, we can make it a road trip,” Louis says with a grin, hitting the nail into the board for extra oomph. 

“That’s a long trip. Think you can handle being apart from Ericson that long?”

“Hell yeah,” Louis replies with no hesitation. “Change of scenery, some adventure, warm weather-- a real vacation.”

“No piano, though.”

Louis cocks his head, pointing the hammer at her. 

“Bold of you to assume we’re not taking the piano with us.”

That gets a laugh out of her.

“Oh, is that so?” she asks. “We’re just going to strap it to the top of the car we don’t have?”

“Yep,” Louis grins. “I’ll drive.” 

“You don’t know how to drive.” 

“Well, neither do you.”

She narrows her eyes at him and the teasing smirk happily playing on his lips. 

“Uh, actually, I’m pretty sure I know how to drive a lot better than you.”

Louis gives a slow, thoughtful nod. 

“Hmm… Remind me, out of the two of us--”

“Don’t.”

“--who has crashed the most cars? Because, and please correct me if I’m wrong, I believe it’s still one to zero.” 

“Alright, Belouga-” Louis shoots her a look, “-you can drive, and when you back us into a tree or run us off the road, just remember that not only will I be there to laugh at you, but the piano will also probably be destroyed.” 

He opens his mouth to speak but changes his mind. After a moment, he sighs. 

“Fine,” he says. “AJ can drive.”

She practically snorts out a laugh. 

“AJ can drive,” she agrees. 

“Perfect,” Louis grins. “Aaaand we’re done!” 

He hops off the dresser, straightening out his jacket as he studies their handiwork. 

Finally, Clementine thinks. Having a broken window during the summer, spring, and even early fall is nice, but once morning becomes increasingly cold and the daylight barely warms anything up, it’s far less nice. Especially when it’s the middle of the night and she’s trying to fall asleep. 

“Where’s the little dude?” Louis asks. “Figured he’d be back by now.”

“He’s patrolling with Tenn,” Clementine says. “They’re having a sleepover tonight.”

“Really?” Louis says, surprised. “And he’s gonna be okay?” 

Clementine shrugs. 

“He said he would be. They’ve been talking about doing this for a while now. Something about Tenn’s comic book collection got AJ really excited.”

“Ah, Science Dog,” Louis nods but leans back against the dresser with arms folded over his chest. “It’s just… you guys haven’t been separated since the Ranch.”

“Right…”

“Are you okay?”

Words weigh heavy on her tongue as Clementine glances down at the floor. She is okay with AJ sleeping in another room, and it’s not as if she can’t sleep in the dorms by herself. It’s much different than when they were separated before she found him at the McCarroll Ranch. Here she knows she’ll see him again tomorrow. 

That doesn’t make Louis’ concern any less sweet. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, reluctant to admit that it’d be lonely--

Lonely. Having the whole dorm to herself, the dorm that she’s freezing her ass off in. Even if she grabs the extra blanket from the closet, she knows she’ll have a hell of a time getting warm and comfortable enough to fall asleep. But… perhaps something could be done about that. 

Clementine bites the inside of her cheek, her beating heart quickening at the idea. 

It’s forward, far more forward than she probably should be, and this time she has no idea how he’ll react to such a suggestion. She’s not even sure how she’d react if he were the one to suggest such a thing.

“Okay,” Louis says, setting aside the extra board they didn’t use. “If you’re not worried about it, then I’m not worried about it. And hey, that’s a mighty fine looking window if I do say so myself. In fact, we worked hard today. I say we celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

With a wide smile, Louis grips the flaps of his coat and says, “Got this new song I’m working on. You wanna hear to before bed?”

“Sure--” she cuts herself off. “Wait, no, actually. I’m really tired so I think I’ll stay here.”

“Oh,” his smile wavers a bit, and she can see the disappointment lining his eyes, but he bounces back like it’s nothing. “That’s okay.”

“Maybe you could show it to me tomorrow?”

“I’d love to,” he grins warmly. “Well, if you don’t need anything else, I’ll let you get some rest. I’m sure Aasim’ll have us up and early tomorrow. It’s our turn to clean out the rabbit’s--”

“Louis,” she cuts him off, stepping forward to stop him from fully reaching the door. 

He pauses to look down at her curiously, attention fully focused on her. Even though Clementine has faced far more intimidating situations than this one, she still finds lead filling her stomach, mouth going dry at what she was to propose.

“I, uh, y’know, I was wondering-- since I’m here by myself tonight, I thought maybe we could-- that you could stay here. With me. Sleep here, I mean. Instead of sleeping in your dorm. If you want.” 

The dorm goes silent following her words. It takes all her willpower to not look away, eager to gauge his reaction. 

He stares back at her, blinking slowly, and Clementine knows the warmth reddening his cheeks isn’t from the cold.

“I...Yeah. Yeah, Clem, I can stay here if you want,” he says, then smiles. Clementine already knows what’s coming before his voice goes light, humorous. “We can have a sleepover of our own. Though, I assume you don’t have any cool comics to share, yeah?”

“No comics.”

“Damn. Neither do I. I do have some magazines I found in the headmaster’s office, though they’re not as fun as Science Dog. Guess our slumber party won’t be as cool,” he forces a chuckle that falls flat as he turns to look over AJ’s bed. “You sure AJ won’t mind? Don’t wanna sleep in the little dude’s bed just in case he comes back... Though, the top bunk doesn’t look too bad. Little dusty.”

She could drop the rest, she thinks. Hang out here with him until they’re both tired, and beat herself up for being a coward all night. 

The worst that can happen is he says no, which Clementine is perfectly fine with. She’s not fine with not knowing for sure. 

“Louis,” she brings his attention back to her. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, Clem… it’s winter. Hence why we spent all day searching for nails and wood to patch up all the windows.”

“I mean, it’s really cold in here.”

“I know?” he says more like a question. “Do you want me to grab some more blankets?

“No, I have some-- Look, since it’s so cold, it’ll be hard to sleep even with extra blankets, so wouldn’t it make sense for us to not be cold?” 

Going off the way he’s looking at her like she’s speaking in riddles, Louis isn’t understanding what she’s getting at. Though, it’s not like she’s being entirely clear, either. If it didn’t feel like she was going to vomit up her own erratic heart, maybe she could just come right out with it.

I want to fall asleep in your arms and keep you warm, you idiot.

“Together,” she tries instead, glancing back at her own bed for emphasis.

That seems to do it. 

His dark eyes search her face for anything to indicate she's kidding but finds nothing within the look he knows too well.

“I--” he clears his throat, hands pushing his jacket back to plant on his hips. He goes to continue, but presses his lips into a tight line instead, at a loss for words. 

With every silent second under his gaze, her anxiety tightens its grip on her belly. Finally, she lets out a long sigh. 

“Nothing? Not even a joke?”

“Clementine.”

The use of her full name, something he rarely does, sends a tingle through her arms and down her spine. 

 “Are you asking if I want to cuddle?”

With how seriously he asks that, it should be funny. It would be funny if she wasn’t such a mess. 

Clementine finally looks away, peering down at the floor. 

“Yes.”

“Huh… Wow, okay, uh…” Louis seems to loosen up, arms falling to his side as a nervous chuckle escapes him. “Hmm, this isn’t what I thought was going to happen tonight. Me ending the night with a busted thumb or a bunch of splinters? Yes, of course.”

“Lou--”

“Sitting down and playing the piano with my best friend Clemmy to help relax after all the exhausting labor we were forced to do today? Obviously. The same Clemmy asking me to spend the night so we can fight the cold by cuddling? ...No. Admittedly, I didn’t see that one coming.” 

“It makes sense, alright?” Clementine interrupts, defensive now that she can’t tell if he’s taking this seriously or not. “If we want to be warm instead of freezing, then sharing body heat is the best way. It’s science, or whatever.”

Louis smirks. 

“’It’s science, or whatever?’ Didn’t realize you were such a scientist, Clem.”

“I-- Look, Louis, If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

“No, no, no!” Louis hands his hands up, shaking his head and stepping closer to her. “It’s not that! I’m just... y’know. Didn’t expect this. Not that I’m complaining or anything because...” His gaze goes soft, sincere, as does his voice. “Uh… Yeah. Yes. Clementine, I would-- I would like to.” 

“Okay,” she breathes out. The urge to kiss him is back, but she’s not about to push her luck. Not yet. 

Louis leaves briefly to change into more comfortable clothes and grab a few extra pillows-- “Unlike you, Clem, I don’t sleep with only one pillow like some sort of heathen” -- leaving her with a few moments to pace about the room and collect her thoughts. She tries wiggling the nerves out of her hands, shaking them until they’re tingly. 

This is happening. 

As she moves, her leg grows more agitated. While most of the long, painful wound has scabbed and healed over, the nerve damage left behind left Clementine to struggle with even the simplest things, like changing into the pair of thick sweatpants Brody gave her when she and AJ first arrived. 

Pulling the extra blanket out, she laid it over the bed and smoothed it out, peering back at the door every few seconds with anticipation. 

Eventually, a soft knock breaks the silence. Clementine lets him in, finding his arms heavy with four pillows-- what the hell does he need four pillows for?-- and another blanket. 

There’s little talk between them until they stand side by side, both gazing down at the made bed. 

“So...” Louis breaks the tension. “Which side do you sleep on?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay... then, I guess I’ll, uh...” Louis scratches the back on his neck, reaching to pull the blanket back before he dips down to crawl close to the wall. Clementine blows out the lamp, leaving the room pitch black. For a moment, she tenses up, then realizes of course... the window. Not even the moonlight can illuminate the dorm. 

“Do you need help?” Louis asks, awkwardly. “I mean, because of your leg.” 

She can’t help but laugh. Not because there’s anything funny about her reaching out into the cold darkness in search of the bed frame or about Louis being concerned she might trip. It’s just the situation.

“I got it, just scoot over.” 

Well, aside from bumping the top of her head off the metal frame, she did manage to climb in next to him with ease. It’s only then did she realize just how small her bed is. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” 

“Louis, the pillows.”

“Are super comfortable, yeah?”

“No, they’re in the way.”

“Ah, well, here lemme--”

Eventually, after much awkward situating, they found themselves on their backs, shoulders and legs pressed firmly together beneath the heavy blanket. Clementine was correct, though-- it was much warmer, but the position left much to be desired. 

Clementine let out a loud sigh, shifting her whole body on its side to scoot closer to him, draping her arm around his waist and nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. Much better. 

“Wow, okay--” Louis let out a nervous laugh. “We’re just gonna-- Cool. Super cool. Really cool.”

“Louis.”

“Hmm?”

“Shhh.”

“Okay.”

Louis rests his hand on her arm, finally relaxing into her touch. While it wasn’t said, they both quietly agreed that this was the warmest they’d been all day. 

Her hand moves to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against her palm. There’s something soothing about its rhythm. 

“Is this okay?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” Louis says. “This is nice. I’ve... well, I’ve never done this before.”

That makes her smile.

“Neither have I, not like this. AJ and I used to huddle together in the back of the car before, but... y’know.”

“Right.” After a beat, he adds lightly, “Didn’t know best friends did stuff like this. Should’ve said so sooner.”

“What, you and Marlon never did this?” she teases. 

Louis laughs. 

“No, I can definitely say that Marlon and I never cuddled.”

His laughter dies down. Clementine frowns, realizing that Marlon’s still a bit of a sore topic. 

“Hope he’s alright,” Louis says. “Last I talked to him, he was still fortifying the windows in the backroom. Found a bunch of stuff beneath and inside the trains. I offered to help, but...”

“He didn’t want it.”

“No. Didn’t want me to keep Aasim waiting, apparently.”

“He has a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in,” she reminds him, knowing that’s only partially the worry. “He’s safe there.” 

Louis doesn’t say anything, but his fingers trail down her bare arm, tracing the jagged scar, and slip down to hold her hand. Like that they stay, enjoying the quiet darkness in each other's embrace. Clementine's still in disbelief that they're both actually here. 

"You know... it's probably going to be this cold all winter."

"You're probably right." 

"I think your scientific hypothesis--"

"Oh, my god."

"--about this body heat thing might be correct." 

"Might?"

"Well," Louis shrugs. "Can't just test a theory once and declare it conclusive."

"Louis, are you asking if we can do this again?"

"Yes, Clem."

They carry on with idle conversations about this and that. Only when Clementine's eyes grow too heavy to keep open does she find her confidence to ask him one of many things occupying her mind. 

"Louis?"

"Hmm?"

"What would you do if I kissed you?"

He doesn't answer right away.

"...Is that a trick question?"

"No."

When he doesn't say anything, Clementine brings his hand to her lips, pressing a light kiss against the inside of his wrist. 

Louis lets out a quiet giggle. 

She smiles. 

"...And what would you do if I kissed you?" Louis asks.

She doesn’t hesitate.

"Kiss you back."

Louis grips her hand tighter. 

"Good to know."

[tbzhours]

be my christmassy

kevin x you x eric, high school au, fluff 

[summary] the Christmassy dance is coming up and with both having a crush on you, eric and kevin try to show their love for you. who will you choose? [words] 5.4k  [a/n] are you still feeling christmassy? ♡ i didn’t know who you should end up with so there are two endings for this fic! also, there’s a lot of college talks in here so bare with me; enjoy! 

It’s usually exciting during this time of the school year because of the annual Christmassy dance. you would hear cheers randomly throughout the week of successful proposals for current and new couples. You honestly loved it, except the glittery decorations around the school that tend to stick onto you and your stuff. Other than that, it also meant that a lot of things are going to happen unexpectedly, like the snacks that keep appearing on your desk since the announcement of the dance. 

You and Eric had the same homeroom when another cheer was heard from the door. You were on your way to the class when you got stuck from the crowd. It was probably the fifth time this morning that you took a sigh then you made a detour, taking the longer way. 

“So, have you thought about who you wanted to ask to the dance?” Hyunjae started after their gaming discussions after hearing the cheer. He smiled excitedly at them then Juyeon answered him. 

“I’m asking my girlfriend out today. My teammates are helping on the field.” Juyeon revealed but Hyunjae slapped his shoulder. 

“At the game?” Hyunjae was surprised when he argued. “Dude, you don’t even need to do that. She can already assume you would go with her to the dance.” 

Jacob shook his head, looking at him without an expression, which slowly turned into a sweet smile. “You don’t know love at all, Hyunjae.” 

Eric wasn’t listening when they bickered, whispering a few names of potential dates then Hyunjae called Eric out, who was caught off guard thinking how he should ask you to the dance. All eyes were on him as he had his mouth open, trying to find words to say. 

“I have someone in mind. Not really sure yet.” Eric didn’t sound promising when he looked up and tapped on his chin. His friends shook their heads. 

“Anyway, if you can help out later, the surprise will be during halftime.” Juyeon mentioned then he pointed at them. “Don’t be late.” 

That was when you walked in, face full of annoyance like you went through a lot trying to get through all of the people in the hall from that successful confession. Eric’s eyes widened as if there was a bubble in his mind when he saw you.  

Eric walked away from the group to the empty seat next to you and sat down when he slid into it. It was a smooth move when you noticed him there. 

“Hey (Y/N), you wanna come watch our team play today?” Eric asked, almost whispering. You thought it was odd because obviously the whole school would go see them. He was on the football team like Juyeon so before you could greet him like the usual, you chuckled. 

“Of course I am. Everyone will.” You turned away from him to see the snack on your desk. You smiled and set it away inside your bag with a whisper of “I’m gonna eat that later”. You didn’t realize Eric heard it and it made him blush. His smile got smaller as he wondered if he got caught staring when you looked back at him. “You’re playing tonight?” 

“Yeah! All because of you.” Eric straightened up from his seat and his fingers fiddle in gratitude. “Thanks for helping me with physics.” 

“I’m glad.” You remembered how hard that class was but you did pretty well in it so you didn’t mind helping Eric study all week last week during your lunch time. “It would suck to not see you on that field.” 

“Thanks for always coming to our games too.” He, once again, felt the need to appreciate you for all of the things you’ve done for him even though it was just a favor. 

“Hey, I’m not the only one supporting our school team. The whole school is going to go see the game tonight.” You chuckled. “We have to win.” 

Eric nodded with a smile. His cheeks were burning up when he repeated your words, “We have to win.” 

You showed your fist to him and he was confused. “For good luck.” 

Eric pounded back at you then you got your textbook out to check the reading for one of your classes today. He admired how cool you were as his friends watched the whole scene and knew who he was going to ask to the dance. 

One of your classes after homeroom was a beginners piano class. Kevin was an student assistant for the class since he knew how to play the piano and took all of the advance classes already. 

There was about four minutes left until the bell rings when you came into the class early. Kevin turned to you from the teacher’s piano at the front of the class and he waved a hand at you. 

“Hey (Y/N), you’re early again.” He sneaked a smile, watching you set your things down at your assigned chair then you walked up to him. 

“Yes, I need to be here early so I can practice for a minute.” You sounded like you were out of breath. You sat down beside him and smiled. “The new melody last week.” 

“You want to try it again?” He asked and you nodded. He motioned his head to the keyboard for you to give it a go. “Go ahead.” 

You focused hard as you played the melody, though it was slower than it should be. His head nodded along each note. 

“By the way, do you need practice for the upcoming test?” He asked, his nod still complimenting at how your fingers pressed against each key. 

“I might, depending on how well this melody sounds to you.” You smiled, trying to not laugh because you could feel how long you were stretching the sound. Seconds later, you finally finished playing and you gave Kevin the side look. “Well?” 

“You’re a fast learner.” He started but you covered your laugh with your closed mouth so there were muffling breaths coming through your nose. “What? I think you did great!” He blurted out, almost laughing. 

“How so?” You asked with curiosity. 

“I’m just surprised at how fast you memorized the melody.” He had a cocky look on his face but it was a pleasant one. 

“Of course I am, I can recite all of my essays for the college applications right now.” 

Kevin held his palm at your boldness. “Hold your horses, I don’t want to think about that when we’re gonna have a test on Friday.” 

“Christmassy day!” You cheered with thrill. “Besides, you’re going to ace it anyways.”

“No, it’s going to be hard to grade everyone.” Kevin cried. You forgot he wasn’t taking the course and you giggled quietly to yourself as if you face-palmed yourself. He sighed and complained, “And all of this Christmassy fun is getting in my head. I just want it to be Friday already.”

“Same.” You agreed. “Except for that test.” 

You both laughed together as the room filled up with students and the bell rang. 

Later that night, you went to go watch Eric’s game with your friends. It was a little chilly but you had a warm coat and winter necessities as you followed your friends though the seating bleachers. It was already dark as the floodlights through the field lit up. The cheers were loud and in unison. When you found your seat, you saw Kevin with his friends, who were sitting in front of you. 

“Didn’t know you’d be here.” You said before you sat down. 

“Same?” Kevin had a judging look on his face, still turned back to you. 

“I watch the game every year.” 

“Uh, I knew that.” 

“Sure.” 

You bursted a laugh when he turned to the front and it got quiet after your nonchalant bickering. He was smiling after hearing you then he turned back to you. 

“This is going to be fun.” Kevin gushed, keeping his hands inside his coat pockets.

“Right. We’re playing against our rival school.” You explained. “Interesting how we get to see them play for our last year.” 

“I have a feeling our team will win.” Kevin smiled. “We got a good team this year.” 

He was right. Once the game started, your school team already scored more points than the opponent. You noticed that Eric was a really good runner. He was always near each end to get ready for a catch. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you after the ball touched the ground. You admired how well your team always played every year because you could tell they put their every ounce of sweat from practice into the game. Maybe that’s why you always go watch the winter game. 

Halftime quickly came as both crowds chanted in unison. Then all of a sudden, some of your school’s team members walked onto the running track in front of your school bleachers. They all had balloons and flowers, and you didn’t see Eric until you saw that he was holding onto a big teddy bear. Juyeon suddenly popped out behind them with a big ‘Will you be my sunshine?’ sign and sunflowers in his hands. 

Juyeon shouted his girlfriend’s name and asked, “Will you be my sunshine at Christmassy?!” 

Everyone looked around, asking where she was. Juyeon shouted her name again then when she came down, all of the crowd cheered. Juyeon walked up to her as they hugged and kissed in front of everyone and the cheers got louder.  

“I thought they’re already dating?” Kevin’s eyebrow rosed, smiling when he looked back at you. 

You shrugged. “I guess it makes it a little more special that way.” 

“I want that.” He suddenly confessed then he saw your judging face. “What?” 

“You want someone to ask you to the dance like that?” 

“I have big dreams.” Kevin chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind all of the balloons and cute stuff, except with an audience this big. Gives me chills.” 

Kevin shivered and you did the same. “I agree.” 

You both shared smiles before he asked you, “You want some hot chocolate after this?” 

“That sounds nice.” 

Eric saw you on the bleachers as he headed toward the bench where his team was at. He waved with his whole arm at you with the teddy bear still in his other arm. Your smile bloomed bigger as you waved back. 

“I never knew about this place.” You were amazed after you and Kevin sat down in the cafe. 

“You can almost say, it’s my secret place to go to.” Kevin chuckled, fixing his long strand of hair. He ordered the hot chocolate and turned back to you. You took a last glance at the antique wall behind the barista before you turned to meet his eyes. 

“The music’s nice.” You commented and he watched how your lips curled into a grin. “And it’s really calm in here.” 

“That’s why I love it here.” He smiled then he groaned. “It just sucks that I might not be able to come back here after we graduate.” 

“That’s right. The closest music school is like two hours away.” You recalled as you chuckled. “That really does suck.” 

“Right?” Kevin sighed then he gave a tiny glare at you jokingly. “I’m still mad at you for only taking piano just to fill an elective credit.” 

“Hey, I’m enjoying the class.” You argued back, still grinning. You rested your chin onto your fist as you set your elbow on the table. “Besides, I think I’m getting better at playing than you.”

“Yeah, and that’s stressing me more over all of these applications.” 

“How is that going for you?” You genuinely asked when the hot cocoa was served. You both thanked the barista and you looked back at him with a smile. 

“Applied for a few music schools already. Still have a few left before acceptances come through.” Kevin held onto his hot cocoa and smiled cheekily at you. “You?” 

“I’m on the same boat.” You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Luckily, it wasn’t too hot so you could drink it warmly. 

Kevin remembered about how stressful it was for you already about applying for colleges because it was about choosing your dream of studying out of the country or staying and finding a new dream. He assured you, “Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.” 

He took a sip of his drink and chuckled when he saw the foam on your upper lips. 

“You want to be santa so bad, huh?” Kevin tried not to drip any hot cocoa from his mouth when wiped your lips with a napkin. 

Later that night, you were getting ready to sleep. As you rested on your bed with the lamp on by your desk, you scrolled through your feed before looking at the stories at the top. You watched Juyeon’s story and saw how he proposed with sunflowers for his girlfriend like how you saw at the game. You smiled at how sweet it was before Eric appeared on Juyeon’s next story. Eric was seen practicing his lines to ask someone out for the dance while his team were taking a break from the game. You chuckled and turned to your side. You thought it was kinda cute as you sent the story to Eric. 

You set your phone down and went to sleep. 

The next morning, you drove a little late to school because you didn’t hear your alarm. You were rushing to school, trying to drive fast and luckily, you made it in time but you still ran as if you were late. 

You caught Eric by your locker but when you tried to come through the crowd, he stopped you by the wrist. He was gentle as he came close to your face to whisper. “Sorry you can’t use your locker yet.”

Eric smirked then he pulled you into the crowd to see the whole scene. 

Younghoon, someone you knew from all of your math classes, asked someone from your homeroom out to the dance so you had to wait. He was your math study buddy after you both unexpectedly took the same classes during your first year together. He was always talking smart so it was funny to see him standing by the lockers next to the formula letters of + U = <3, in which he was the letter I at the left. 

You didn’t know he would have such a big crush on one of your classmates. 

Your classmate came by and the two were obviously in love. They didn’t hesitate with their answer and hugged him right away. 

You cheered with the crowd, not realizing how Eric’s been holding your hand ever since he pulled you into it. Once the crowd scattered and Younghoon and his date walked away, you made your way to your locker quickly. You opened it, letting the + sign stay stuck on the door of your locker as you set some things away. 

Eric was watching your every move after leaning onto the locker on his back beside you. He tried not to laugh when he asked. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I woke up late so I feel like I’m gonna be late to everything.” You confessed, still scrambling your things back and forth. 

“Well, you look fine, except this.” He fixed your hair to the side and smiled. It must have been from running too much. “There.” 

Your eyes met and you found yourself blushing a little. 

Eric’s eyes bloomed before he grabbed something from his pockets and handed it to you. “And here.” 

You gave him a laugh and took the snack from his hand. “So you’re the one who’s been giving me all of these snacks?” 

“Uhh did I get caught?” He tilted his head then you nodded at him. He quickly changed the subject, talking too fast that you couldn’t stop grinning. Eric started to walk backwards as he suggested. “Do you perhaps want some hot cocoa? I heard Younghoon’s homeroom teacher is making it for his class. They have marshmallows too. The big ones. Yes? Okay, I got you. I’ll be right back.” 

You could see his rosy cheeks before he turned and ran through the crowd. You shook your head and focused back onto your locker. You set his snack down on the top shelf and smiled as you shut it. 

During lunch, your friends asked if you were planning to go to the dance. It was already tomorrow and they were shocked that you didn’t have a date yet because it’s your last year already. 

“You should make it the best.” One of them said. 

Then another added, “I thought you were the one who’s always asking first.” 

You didn’t feel like joining in the conversation but if you had to explain, it was because you had one potential date last year. It’s funny because this year, you have two people in mind. You weren’t sure who you wanted to go with since you are pretty close to the two. For a second, you thought this was harder than doing your applications. 

“Well, at least you’ll get a card tomorrow, from I know who.” One of them teased. 

Ah yes, tomorrow was the day where a card and a chocolate rose get sent to people from their secret admirer by the student council. It was going to happen during your class before lunch. That was when you knew how loud the cafeteria was going to get with the guessing game tomorrow. 

You shrugged after getting playful eyes from your friends. 

You were walking alone in the hall after your teacher asked you to do an errand for them since you were done with your in-class assignment. Kevin was there but you didn’t see him because you were lost in your head while the printer was going. 

“(Y/N)?” You heard Kevin by the front desk. 

You looked to your side and almost jumped. “Did you have your head down or something? I forgot you have library duties.” 

You both chuckled softly in the silent room. Kevin stood up as you picked up the papers and walked to him. You set the papers down on the table between you both when you continued. 

“Must be nice to be in here where there’s no chaos.” You joked. Then you looked at the space in front of the computer screen he was sitting in front of. “What are you working on?” 

“Nothing.” Kevin’s lips twisted to the side with his eyes panicking where you were looking at. He shuffled the papers and tried to explain. “Uhh, it’s more like... I’m just making cards for some of the teachers before the break.” 

“I should do that too.” You nodded as you didn’t see the beads and strings under the cards. Your lips bloomed when you continued, “Anyway, aren’t you excited for tomorrow?” 

“I am.” He mused. “I can’t believe it’s going to be our last dance before we go to college.” 

“Same.” You sighed, “Time goes by too fast.” 

Kevin shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be walking down with our gowns.”

“Noooo~” You groaned with your head down then you quickly got up. “Wait, I mean yes because you owe me a homemade cake.” 

“You still remember that?” Kevin was surprised because he made one for your older brother, who was also his friend. He graduated last year and Kevin dropped by your place to congratulate him with it. 

“Duh,” you pretended to be annoyed but you smiled after. You remember fighting with your brother just to get a taste of it. “I can still remember the taste. It was that good.” 

“Then I won’t forget to do that for you when we graduate.” 

“Thanks. I’ll let my brother know you're still a baker and you’re doing great.” You let him know then it got quiet with just your smiles. A few seconds went by before you picked up the papers and chuckled awkwardly. “I better get going.” 

Kevin grabbed some things on the table and handed them to you before you could make it to the door. “Here take some chocolate, just in case we don’t get any tomorrow.” 

Your eyebrow heightened as you assured him. “I’m sure you’ll have at least one secret admirer.” 

Yeah, you too.” You both exchanged smiles and before you walked out of the door, you turned back just in case. “Good luck tomorrow.” Kevin whispered, “With the test.” 

You could almost see him winking before you walked out. 

Right then, you saw Eric in the hallway quietly, as if he didn’t want to get caught skipping class. 

He didn’t even see you until the door of the library opened. His eyes widened. Good thing you didn’t open two seconds later because he would have hit the door. You shut it as he slowed down. 

“Where are you going, Eric?” You asked. You joined his walk while he tried to avoid your eyes. 

“I-I’m just helping Haknyeon with his date. You know, for the dance.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

“You’re always the wingman.” You laughed along and turned to him. “Will you ever do an event for your own date?” 

Eric blushed nervously and he hummed a weird sound. “O-of course. It just hadn’t happened yet.” 

“Well then, good luck with it.” You smiled at him when you stopped by the door of your class. It was just down the hall from the library. “Have fun being a wingman again.” 

“Thanks.” Eric smiled as you walked into your class. 

When you got home, you were conflicted over who to ask to the dance that you had decided it would be fun to go to the dance with your friends instead. 

You set some things back into your bag when the night got deep. You check one of the side pockets after remembering about the chocolate Kevin gave you, then you realized he gave you a bracelet too, as promised from a while back when he got into making bead bracelets. You remembered him making some for his friends and since your older brother got one, you wanted one too. You quickly sent a text of it after getting ready to sleep and thanked him for remembering. 

When you went back to your feed, you saw that both Eric and Kevin made a post. 

You liked both posts then you set your phone down and closed your eyes to sleep. Your heart was beating so fast that you didn’t know what tomorrow would be like. For sure, it was going to be a busy day. 

It was the day of the dance and the school was festive with all of the cheers and sweet giving and exchanges throughout the hall and classrooms as your heart was still rushed in excitement. 

You briefly saw Eric in homeroom but he left early to be another wingman for a friend’s proposal. He made sure to meet eyes with you with a smile before he left the room. 

As for Kevin, he seemed super nervous during your piano test. You gave him a big pat on the back when you both walked out of the class and complimented how great he did. 

“You still look nervous.” You commented, you peeked at him. 

“I do?” He moved his head back and scoffed with a confident smile. “Well, I’m not.” 

“I believe you.” You smiled, trying not to laugh at how funny he looked. “See you later. Hope you get something.” 

The secret admirer cards. Kevin just remembered. Actually, it’s been on his mind all morning. It’s just that he was one of your secret admirers and you were standing right in front of him where you both needed to part ways in the hall. He nervously smiled. “Right. You too.” 

You both parted, smiling away and when you got to your locker with only a minute left to get to your next class before lunch, Eric came by, shouting your name. A few students looked and some shook their head from being used to him shouting with his friends. 

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in class already?” Your eyes were wide and your lips were opened in surprise. You couldn’t help to chuckle at how nervous he looked.

“I know. I just forgot to um…” He tried to think of something and blurted out, “Say hi to you.”

“Hi~” You played along then you rushed your locker exchanges and closed it quickly. “Better get going. I’m gonna be late to my class too.” 

“Take a run! You’ll get there in no time!” 

You didn’t know why he was encouraging you to run in school because it wasn’t allowed but you played along with a laugh. You took off and waved your hand at him. “You too! Bye!” 

You finally got to class right when the bell rang. Once you sat down, the announcement came on about the secret admirer cards. It was taking a while since the deliverers had to stop by each classroom. You tried to stay focused in class but it was really hard to, and when there was a knock on the door, your teacher walked to it and started to pass the cards to the correct receivers. 

For you, you got two.

card 1 i adore  how your mind speaks how your eyes shine, and especially how passionate your dream beats against your heart. if there’s room for more, will you be my christmassy?

card 2 roses are red violets are blue how about christmassy? at your side i shall be. (meet me at the parking lot at lunch?)

                           who stole your heart? 

                              card 1   /   card 2

[anothersadsimp]

Baby, it’s Cold

Agent Whisky x Reader

Words: 1186

A/N: Yes it’s based on a Christmas song but it is not a Christmas imagine. It’s just cold bro. 

You don’t quite know how you became friends with Jack Daniels, AKA Agent Whiskey, became friends. You despised how he chased almost any woman, finding it a little despicable. But he had a good heart and after what happened with his wife, you couldn’t hold it to him.

Your friendship had made you two become an unstoppable team when dealing with bad guys. Everyone knew the real reason why you two were so insync with each other, but of course you two deflect it as a friendship. When people asked you about it, you often got embarrassed and blushed a bright red. Whiskey however, played it off saying some smooth line in his sweet southern accent.

You both had gotten back from a mission and debriefed with Champ. You were exhausted but when Whiskey invited you to his place for a drink you couldn’t decline his offer. Being around him always gave you a warm sense of comfort, which perfectly contrasted the cold winter winds.

It was dark out except for the Christmas lights people lined their wire fences with. He had a plot of land a little ways from the Statesman Brewery with a modern, but humble house sat upon it. It was silent out, a stark contrast from where your mission was, and holiday music played softly among the white noise of your driving.

When you pulled up next to the house he waited by his car for you to come near him before heading to the door. He ushered you into the dark house and turned the entry light on before shedding his wool lined denim jacket.

“Make yourself at home.” He said as he took your coat to drape it over the welcoming sofa.

He walked off to a little cupboard grabbing two small glasses and some whiskey as you plopped down onto the thick cushions. You kicked your shoes off and layed down fully on the couch. Jack walked by you placing the glass in your outstretched hand before plopping himself down onto a chair placing the bottle on the coffee table.

“You okay there darling?” He takes a sip of his drink, staring at your relaxed form.

You sigh and sit up to down the amber liquid in one big gulp. “I’m just tired. One of the informants just damn near talked my ear off.” You sigh and reach over pouring yourself another glass.

He chuckles before taking another small sip, “Yeah you never were one to socialize.”

You roll your eyes before taking a small sip of your drink. You lean back against the couch cushions, head hitting the hard part of the back and turn it to the side to look at him.

“How are you so chipper all the time?” You ask, you can tell he’s tired but he's just as happy as ever.

“I guess I’m just a ray of sunshine darlin’.” He has that dazzling soft smile as he says it, making you feel weak for a moment.

“Ray of sunshine my ass.” You grumble, and his smile widens at your quiet words.

You smile, chuckling with him. His breath gets caught in his throat for a second at the sight, he couldn’t help it with how the low light hits your face.

He loves the comforting silence as you both sip away at your drinks, but he cant help but want to hear your voice. It doesn't take long for you two to fall into your normal shenanigans where you laugh and talk about weird, embarrassing moments during missions.

After you had finished your second glass, you check the time to see it's half past 12 in the morning. You sigh and put your glass on the table, turning to him with your hands resting on your thighs.

“I should get going.” You say quietly, not wanting to move for multiple reasons.

“You sure you should be drivin’ after a couple of drinks?” He asks, already worrying for your safety.

“Yes. You of all people should know that I can handle my alcohol.” You whisper up at him, as you both stand up.

“Baby, it’s awfully cold outside.” He counters.

“That’s why I have a jacket.” You say as you hold it up for him to see.

You both are in the foyer, one of your hands is on the door knob behind you as you face him. He steps close to you, closer than usual, and grabs your empty hand. He raises your hand pressing a kiss to it, before nuzzling his warm face into your cold hand.

“You know there’s a storm blowing in, roads are gonna be dangerous.” He whispers as he moves the hand that was holding yours to your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

You both are caught in a trance, looking into each other's eyes. You’re so captivated by his gentle look, to where you almost miss his eyes glance down. You both don’t realize how you are slowly moving your faces closer to each other, feeling the warm breath on each other's faces.

“I can handle myself out there.” You whisper back.

“I know darlin’, I know.” With that he closes the gap between you.

His lips are soft, a bit hesitant in case you wanted to back out. To his surprise you press yourself further into him, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down to you. His hands rest at the top of your hips, one of them digging into the shirt under the jacket you wore. One of your hands takes the silly cowboy hat off, as the other hand runs through his curls causing him to sigh.

You both pull back, foreheads still resting against each other. You’re a little out of breath from the kiss, and you refuse to open your eyes for a moment.

“And here I thought whiskey couldn’t taste any better.” He says with a stupid smirk.

Your eyes shoot open, and a blush runs up to your face. He chuckles at the reaction you had to his words, loving how he can affect you.

“Tastes even more delicious from you.” His smile doesn’t leave, even as he leans down to kiss you again.

This kiss is more passionate and instead of warmth surrounding you, it's heat. You whimper into him, the one hand holding his hat drops it to come up to grab the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands find their way to your ass, pulling you flush against him. The movement causes slight friction with the jeans he’s wearing causing you both to moan into eachothers mouths.

You pull back this time, needing air in your lungs. He smiles again at you panting from what might have been one of the best kisses in your life.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay?” He’s cocky now, he knows you can’t turn him down after that.

“I guess I can stay the night.” You sigh happily.

He pulls you in again for another kiss, and starts walking you back to his room where he kept you warm for the rest of the night.

[marsmoonqueen]

Red

WinterSoldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood, nightmares.

Prompt / Summary: Bucky has been dreaming with a mysterious girl, and it seems that he is not the only one missing her.

Note: Hi everyone, two in a row, that’s a miracle jajaja. “I could take you anywhere you want” is the continuation of this fic. 

Bucky saw, in his dream, how the sea in which he was drowning changed colors and became blood instead. The blood from the people he had killed as the winter soldier, covering everything around him, including himself.

         He was about to scream both in his dream and in real life, but the ground changed again, and the thing between his fingers wasn’t blood anymore, it was hair, red hair.

         Red hair decorated with green leaves, pink daisies and wildflowers.

         A laugh, a laugh took him out of his nightmare and into another dream. A sweet one, this time; in which he found himself with his, now literal, ‘dream girl’. A dream in which he was the happiest.

         “Red” he murmured between dreams, loud enough for Wanda to hear. She had gone to his room to wake him up from the nightmare he was having, and that was projecting also in her head; but found him instead dreaming with a red-haired woman whose face she couldn’t see.

         Trying to make as little noise as possible, Wanda closed the door, and went back to her room.

  “Steve, do you know if Bucky had a girl, he called Red?” She asked one morning, days after Bucky’s first dream. Three pair of eyes found her face.

         “Red?” Steve tasted the name on his lips. “No, I don’t think so…”

         “Why?” Sam was quick to ask.

         “He has been dreaming with a woman… he calls her Red, and he seems happy around her”. Wanda explained as she took a sip from her tea.

         “Maybe it’s me…” A tension settled in the air around the four friends. “Maybe that’s how he called me when he was the winter soldier”

         “What do you mean ‘maybe’?” Steve asked defensively

         “Yes woman, what do you mean maybe? Did he call you like that or no?” Sam followed, irritated.

         “Well, I don’t remember him calling me that way…” Natasha started “But maybe that was my nickname for himself”.

         “Unlikely” Wanda responded “He was calling for her in his dreams, why would he call her by a name she didn’t know he used for her?” Natasha stayed silent for a while.

          “I don’t know, but who else could it be if not me? Who else does he know with my hair tone?” She counterattacked

          “You are not the only one with that hair color” Sam stepped in.

          “Enough” Steve declared, clearly irritated.

          It wasn’t unknown that Natasha and Steve’s relationship had been passing through some serious patches since Bucky ‘came back’. The problem was that she wouldn’t stop talking about meeting him in his ‘winter soldier phase’, and everybody was tired of it already. Of course, Steve was a coward and wouldn’t talk about it, or the direction of their relationship; they were a lost case.

Two or three morning later, when Bucky realized that Steve was avoiding him a little, and Natasha was giving him longer gazes, and only then, he dared to ask the two ‘experts’.

         “Who is Red?” was the response he got from Wanda.

         “Red? What does this have to do with her?” He asked, with a straight face and a defensive voice.

         “So, there is a ‘Red’… Is it Natasha?” Sam exaggerated ‘is’.

         “What?” Bucky shacked his head no.

         “What Sam is trying to ask is if the woman you call Red is Natasha?” Wanda tried now, with both her hand around her cup of tea.

         “No, no, for God’s sake, of course no… she is my mate’s girlfriend… I would never” Bucky seem disgusted to the idea of betraying Steve, which made Sam and Wanda smile.

         “The who is she?” Sam pushed him again.

         “How do you know about her? That’s a better question”

         “I asked first” Wanda laughed at the duo.

         “It’s a girl I met… in Romania. At that time I had just escaped hydra, and was starting to recover my memories when I found her… she was in trouble, and even being mostly the winter soldier, I helped her… and she helped me in return” A smile painted on his face, without him noticing. “She gave me a place where to stay and helped me remember who I am, she did a lot of research even though she had a lot to study” He now laughed whole heartedly. “She also always had music in her flat… specifically a boy whose name I don’t remember”.

         “Then, what happen?” Wanda touched his shoulder when the light abandoned his eyes.

         “I had to leave her when all the ‘civil war’ between superheroes and the government started… I left a note for her, but couldn’t say goodbye properly”

         “Wait, Romania… Is that why you have been dreaming with her lately? Because of the mission we are going in some days?” Sam babbled. Wanda gave him a ‘shut up’ glare.

         “Dreaming? How did you know that?” Bucky got up from his seat on the table, between them.

         “Sorry Buck, I heard you the other time calling for her, and asked Steve, he and Natasha are kind of sure you were talking about her.” Wanda stood up.

         “That’s why he has been ignoring me? That punk… I should go and talk to him, thanks for the help guys” He took his jacket from behind his empty chair and walked to the door.

         “Wait! What was her name?” Sam shouted, but it was too late, Bucky had already left the kitchen. “Damn it” Wanda laughed.

  The day of the mission arrived, and Steve still would not talk with Bucky for more than five minutes. He was getting frustrated… but he understood, he would act the same if he thought somebody was trying to steal his Red.

         Now, speaking about the mission… it was a mess. It couldn’t have gone worse. For starters they crashed the jet, were ambushed, and Bucky got separated from his group by five hydra agents that took him to ‘the chair’ every hydra base had; they started speaking the words, they didn’t finished them, but the own fact that he was seated in that  god damned chair made him become someone he was not. After that, he was no longer in control. The winter soldier was.

         A series of events and actions, mostly took by the soldier, brough the team to an empty street in front of an apartment complex. Truth to be told, Wanda and Sam weren’t trying to stop him, they had a vague idea of where the winter soldier wanted to go, after Bucky had told him more stories about him and the red beauty that plagued his dreams.

          But Steve and Natasha were trying everything in their power to stop him from going any further.

         “Okay… I have an idea” Steve tried to find her in the dark “Let me talk to him”

         “No”

         “Steve, you and I know he will listen to me, he knows me… you heard what he told Wanda and Sam, I am the only one that can control him”

         “Oh really? then why hasn’t he stopped yet? Also, what conversation are you talking about?” Sam asked by the intel, with a roll of his eyes.

         “He hasn’t seen me completely… he hasn���t heard my voice” She responded, ignoring the second question.

         “That won’t make any difference” Wanda jumped from a building to another, far behind Natasha.

         “Of course, it will!” Natasha fell on her feet in front of the soldier, who was trying to climb the wall, to get to one of the apartments.

         “Nat no!” Steve yelled. She took her ‘in ear monitor’ off and walked closer to him.

         “Hi Buck, hey it’s okay” she took his hanging foot and pulled him. “C’mon Bucky, get down” When she finally pulled him down, he wasn’t so happy about it. Bucky looked at her in the eyes and his metal hand made its way to her throat.

         “Nat!” Steve yelled from somewhere, but he was still far behind. The three friends tried to arrive as fast as they could to help her… but a voice beat them.

         “James? Is that you?” A girl with a black coat hiding her nightgown asked from the foot of the door. He didn’t hear her… and she realized that she wasn’t talking to him. “Winter! Stop that!” She walked away from the door and the light that was inside, but the soldier recognized her. He teared his gaze from Natasha to the girl, and as usual, he was awestruck. “Let her go” (Y/n) got closer “C’mon boy, let her go, she is a friend” she had seen the black widow many times on the tv to know she was on the good guys side.

         “I don’t have friends” He answered, with that raspy voice she remembered so well. And contrary to his words, he let her go; and walked the distance left between them with his imponent steps.

         If Sam hadn’t been so worried about Nat, he would have laughed at Bucky’s words. He, Wanda and Steve had arrived just in time to watch the girl get out from the building.

         “Oh yeah?” she interrupted their thoughts “Then what am I?” As soon as the words left her lips, the soldier tackled her in a big hug, but moved her between his arms so he could see Natasha if she decided to attack.

         “You are my girl” He whispered to her ear, but because of his earpiece, everyone heard him.

         The girl laughed “Good to know you still remember… won’t you introduce me to your friends?” she asked once she caught a glimpse of them. Bad idea, Bucky rapidly turned around and hided her behind his back, ready to attack.

        “They are not my friends” He took a defensive position when Sam landed in the floor in front of him with Wanda and Steve by his side.

        “Yes, they are silly, you just don’t remember them… but is fine” she tried to get in front of him, but Bucky thinking that he was protecting her, didn’t let her. “Okay, change of context: they are my friends, boy, so calm down”

        He turned his head to watch her “You are lying”

        “No, I’m not” She walked away from him, before Bucky could put another hand on her. “Now, let’s all go inside, shall we?” she opened the door from where she had gotten out and waited for them. Bucky was the first one to enter, but stayed next to her watching every move of his friends as they came inside too.

 Once they were all inside, the girl took them to her apartment, receiving an angry glare from the landlord because it was forbidden to have ‘stray’ people stay the night in the apartments, but a look to Bucky’s own angry face made him shut up.

         “Would you like some dinner? I can call a pizza or something” The girl suggested as she closed her apartment door, just to be received with Bucky arms, who was glaring at everyone.

         Natasha seemed mad about something the girl couldn’t point out, the captain seemed lost in his own head too, but the other pair, the witch and the falcon looked ecstatic.

         “I’m (y/n) by the way” she extended her hand, but before Sam could shake it, Bucky slapped his hand.

         “Ouch! Control yourself Barnes”

         “Winter!” the girl turned around to see him to his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on Sam.

         “Don’t touch her” He hugged her tighter, as he wanted to hid her inside him.

         “Sorry guys, he can get very overprotective when he wants” her voice came out muffled because of her lips being pressed to his chest.

         “Oh really?” Natasha said sarcastically.

         “So, you are Red?” Steve spoke for the first time, Wanda glared at him.

         “Red? Yes, that’s how he calls me, you know… my hair” she said, moving between Bucky’s arms until he let her face his friends.

         “Forgive us, I’m Wanda, this is Sam, Steve and Natasha… and as you know we are friends of Bucky” Wanda smiled at her, but dared not to come closer, in case Bucky slapped her hand too.

         “And yes, we would like some pizza” Sam added, making the girl laugh and Bucky look at her with a frown.

  No one made another sound until the pizza arrived.

         “So… how did this happened?” (Y/n) asked from between Bucky’s legs as she pointing at him, who by the way, hadn’t let go of her since he saw her, and was currently eating pizza from her hands. The soldier was still alert, but more relaxed. “Did someone say the words in your mission or whatever?”

         “Something like that” Steve started. “From what we heard, they didn’t finish, but I don’t know, I think the room was enough to well… program him?” He mumbled the last part unsure.

         “Mhh, I get you” The young woman started “Sometimes, James would become the winter soldier because of a memory, or a dream”

         “Did he tried to hurt you?” Wanda asked, worried.

         “Sometimes in the beginning, but later… I think he thought I was his handler or something, he would wait for me to give him an order” A shiver ran through her spine, Bucky hugged her tighter.

         Sam, Steve, Wanda and even Natasha released a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

         “Anyway, usually after a good nap he would become himself, if the words were not spoken, if they were… it would take days to come back” She said absently, but then shacked her head no.  “Aimlessly, you can pass the night in here, I don’t mind, we’ll see what happens tomorrow” She smiled at them

         “Thank you, we appreciate your hospitality” Steve got up holding his plate, ready to take it to the sink.

         “Yeah, it doesn’t matter, any of James’ friend is mine”.

 After the plates were cleaned and the pizza boxes were in the trash can, (y/n) divided the rooms, Nat and Steve would be going to the guest room, Sam and Wanda in the living room, Wanda in the couch and Sam in the floor; (y/n) tried to make him use her room along with Bucky but Sam said he’d ‘rather sleep in the floor than near him, even when he was himself’ which made her laugh. Finally, she and Bucky would stay in her room.

         As soon as her back touched her bed, after she changed clothes, Bucky’s arms were around her, caging her against his chest.

        “I missed you too, soldier” (y/n) whispered as she also hugged him.

        “Sleep tight, Red” was the last thing she heard, as she fell asleep.                

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

Take Me, I’m Yours ♡

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You’re the baby of the group, a twenty something year old fire goddess and the untouchable sister of Thor Odinson, your sworn protector and overbearing brother. It's the fourth of July which means it’s Cap’s birthday, your long time teammate, but when an unexpected guest arrives, things don’t go according to plan. 

A/N: oof I haven’t written in forever it seems, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy I hope you guys enjoy this ik I did writing it, this is set after Endgame but Tony and Natasha survived because I WANT THEM TO and I have never really written a Steve Rogers fic or at least in a long time cause I’m watching Avengers on Disney plus rn and it’s a lot be gentle and plz leave feedback it warms my heart and make my day I also crave validation

Warnings: slight angst, loads of fluff, cheesiness, sexual tension, tropes, violence, men being touchy, assault, language, smut, rushed writing, get ready 

Steve is golden. You’re coal black, despite innocent appearances, you’re dark with jagged edges, but your blood is radioactive, glowing with power, just like your brother Thor. But that is what you two share, you and Cap, you’re both broken. 

You’re the baby of the team, young, pink pouted lips, big, doe eyes that get you what you want, round face, flushed cheeks, ample curves, and honey suckle voice, velvet like your y/s/c skin, woven with power and fire. 

You’re strong, smelling of a forest fire in the depths of winter, burning embers and cedar. 

He sees this, all of it, like you admire his broad shoulders, hard muscle, all strength and statue, he’s Apollo, a Greek god made of heat, brick, and mortar. He’s let his chestnut hair grow out slightly, hanging over his face, enough to run his fingers all the way through, a rugged, barbaric beard you want to tug on into submission. 

The goddess and the god-like man.

But he can’t have you.

---

You separate Thor’s hair into three strands, tugging them into a braid as you both watch the meeting planning Captain’s birthday party. Thor winces at your harsh pulling, trying to make it tight. 

“For Odin’s sake, sister, be gentle,” he curses under his breath.

“You want it to last, don’t you? Stop being such a baby and let me work, remember I hold all the power here,” you continue, rolling your eyes with a hint of a smile. “God of thunder can’t handle getting his hair done, how ironic.”

“At least I have a soul.”

“I will light you on fire.”

“You two, stop bickering or I’ll put you on clean up duty,” Stark reprimands.

You roll your eyes, “Kiss my ass, Stark.”

You make the mistake of making eye contact with Steve from across the conference room, lips slightly parted subconsciously when his eyes, a darkened, stormy blue with lightning striking his irises, are drawn there, perfect pink mouth, resembling a rose petal in full bloom. He folds his arms over his chest and looks away while you duck your head down, embarrassed. 

He’s hot and cold when it comes to you, longing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, silent, lustful touches on your waist when he passes you, an occasional wink when no one is around, flirting with you, a conversation or two at the crack of dawn when it’s just you two on the balcony, painted with gold and auburn from the sunrise. But other times he avoids you, going out of his way to be anywhere you’re not, cold words and stares that shiver you down to nothing but your bones, leaving you bare and he won’t even take the time to look at you, your undoing by him. He’s quiet around you at times like he’s hiding something.

Thor looks at you with a face of disgust and you pull his hair.  

“I propose an idea when it comes to my party,” Cap raises his hand, looking at Tony.

“By all means, birthday boy, let us hear it,” Barton chimes in, Natasha casting him a look meant to kill.

“We don’t have it.”

“Proposition denied,” Tony says. “This is happening, and frankly, we could use the good press after the world nearly ending.”

“And celebrating that with a party is your idea of good press?” Bucky leans his weight against the doorway, Sam letting out a small chuckle.

“Hey guys we, as a human race, were all almost completely wiped out by the jolly purple giant but let’s forget about that by celebrating Captain America’s birthday that none of you are invited to,” Sam mocks. You giggle despite yourself, looking at the floor while tying off Thor’s braid, Natasha elbowing your ribcage playfully for encouraging them. 

“Maybe I just want to throw a party,” Tony scoffs. “Sue me.”

“Believe me, if we could, we would,” Clint looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’d be so fucking loaded,” Bucky whispers to Sam.

Sam lets out a deep sigh, “Tell me about it.”

“Y/n... what do you think?” Tony asks, letting out a deep sigh, pinching the space between his brow with his fingers. 

“What do you mean?” you look up, admiring the french braid you did on your brother, smiling to yourself before looking back up at Stark. 

“About the party? What we’ve been talking about for the last half hour?” 

“Oh I wasn’t listening...” you chuckle, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye, his lips turned up. “I um... well I think we should have a small party with all of us and friends, just enough to draw attention from the right people. We can fire up the grill and light a campfire, roast some s’mores... light fireworks, of course,” you trail off with a laugh.

Steve cracks a smile. “I like her idea.”

“That... sounds perfect, actually,” Natasha looks at you then to Tony. 

Tony sighs, but he wears a large smile, adorning his face, “Meeting adjourned.”

---

You paired a baggy striped winter sweater with a pair of black jeans, tight and fitted to your curvy figure, definitely not going unnoticed by Steve, eyes outlining the curves of hips, thighs, dips, and soft round shapes on your body, plump and attractive. He watches you move to the music Tony blasts on his speakers, night just settling in on the sky and painting it black, sun peaking upon the horizon to say hello. 

Natasha hands you a bottle of beer, condensation coating your hand, sweat there too, but the cold night is seeping in and you shiver, “Thanks,” you smile graciously. 

“Have you... you know-” she demonstrates a crude sexual gesture and you scoff. “With you know yet?”

“I want to tell him I like him first,” you explain, taking a gulp of your liquor and feeling the cool bubble tingle your tongue and throat. “Not just fuck him and be done with it... I want more than that.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m serious, Nat. I really like him and he...” you look at her with begging eyes and she sees that you’re sincere. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” you look at the ground, chuckling dryly, nursing your beer. Your hands heat up, something that happens when you grow nervous, your powers light up, literally, a fight or flight reflex for survival. Except now anxiety from a crush. 

You shake your head, taking a larger sip, “He’s so hot and cold.”

“That can be true, but the ways he looks at you...” she hums. “That can only be described as hot,” she snaps her teeth jokingly and lets out a giggle, officially buzzed. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, getting in the party spirit once again. “He doesn’t-”

Your interrupted when an old friend appears in your view and he waves in your direction, Timothy, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent from your starting days here on Earth with your brothers. He trained you alongside Fury before S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA fell, and you turned to the Avengers when they offered you a position alongside Thor. He did, however, have a temper and you and many others were sure Timothy had a crush on you for a long time, your fears of losing your colleague becoming a reality when he asked you out and you had to reject him, because you’d already fallen for Steve. He didn’t take it well at the time and you haven’t spoken since. 

“Hey, Timothy,” you smile warmly, politely, moving to return his embrace, he squeezes you tightly, one hand holding a beer and the other wrapped around your waist. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Tony invited all the old S.H.I.E.L.D members, not the HYDRA ones, of course, but I decided to pop in,” he flashes a grin. “And Fury’s over there cutting up a rug,” he points to where Fury is being taught by Peter Parker how to floss. 

You laugh and force a believable smile, “It’s good to see you.”

He looks you over not-so-subtly, something both you and Natasha catch, “It’s really good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”

You smile, a little anxious all of a sudden, especially when you begin to smell the liquor on his own breath and how grabby his hands look to become, reaching out to touch your waist. You move his hand away, uneasy.

Natasha frowns and moves to take his hand off of you, “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink there, buddy. Why don’t you go sit down?”

“Maybe you need to sit down, I’m talking to y/n,” he rips his hand back. “Mind your own business, bitch.”

“Talk to me or touch y/n like that again and I’ll break your fucking hand,” she seethes through her teeth and sets down her drink.

Shit, shit, shit.

Steve sees the commotion over everyone else talking and chatting, paying no mind to the altercation between you, Natasha, and Timothy. He catches the look on your face, retreating into yourself as Nat rips him a new one, pointing a finger into his chest. He walks over, pushing his way through friends, all out here on Tony’s terrace, past the grill but people keep stopping to talk, anger brewing in his chest at seeing someone hurt you.

Timothy grabs you by the waist, “Hey, I know it’s been a long time, baby, but I wanna get back to what we had.”

“Let go of me,” you push at his chest. “And don’t call me baby. We didn’t have anything.”

“You rejected me all that time ago,” he says, voice growing louder. “Why?” Natasha rushes off to get Tony to kick him out, knowing she shouldn’t cause a scene even further by hurting him, she had to get Tony. 

“Because I don’t see you like that,” you push at him but he grabs both your wrists as you try to push him away. 

“You’re lying, tell me the real reason.”

“I’m. not. lying,” you say but you know what he wants to hear, your eyes burning with tears. You wish you could your power, light him up, but you can’t, your mind is too preoccupied with the answer to his question and you can’t concentrate. 

“Tell me the truth or I’ll tell him myself, say it,” he grows angrier, pulling you. “Say it!” and using your god like strength, you shove him to the ground at last and flames lick your hands. 

“Because I’m in love with Steve!” 

Just as the music goes quiet for Bucky’s toast to his friend, you catch everyone’s attention, head’s turned towards you and you want to crawl in a hole and get buried up again, to sink into the ground. Your face is hot with eyes on you and you can’t move. Tony and Natasha both look at you from the corner of your eye, unknowing of what to think. 

You’ve said it. Said the damn words out loud and you can’t take them back. You’re breath is heavy and weighs on your chest when you look up. 

Steve is in front of you, looking at you with wide eyes and a deep, questioning look and furrowed brow, chest heaving after he’s heard your confession, surprised. 

Fuck.

“You bitch,” he gets back up and moves to hit you but Steve grabs his hand, forcefully and painfully.

He moves over further and manages to pull Timothy off you completely, hand curled in his shirt with his feet off the ground when he pulls him inches away from his face, “Get the hell out of my party, stay away, and don’t touch her again. Are we clear?” his voice is a deep timbre, a low growl with a warning tone. 

He finally listens and grabs another drink on his way, shooting dirty looks to those who watch him leave and you’re left panting, out of breath with tears staining your cheeks, eyes glassy.

Fury trips him on the way out, “I knew you were trouble.”

You look up at Steve who’s in front of you now, “I-I... I’m sorry I ruined your party, Steve... I’m sorry,” you say when he moves to cup your face in his hands, soothing you with shushes and soft coos, wiping away your tears with his calloused thumbs. “I’m sorry-”

“Doll, you didn’t... he did, I’m sorry he was invited here if I had known...” he curses himself. “I’m so sorry.”

You meet his eyes. Oh, he’s so sweet, he’s so sweet it makes your heart ache.

But the question still remains, lingering over your heads: Now what?

---

You’re in the living room of the compound following the events of the disastrous birthday party, curled up on the couch by yourself as everyone’s gone to bed, snacking on remaining popcorn and watching Friends. Tony had sent everyone home after what happened, which people understood, apologizing to the few other friends that attended and offering goodie bags for coming, stuffed with hundreds of dollars of Stark merchandise for good measure. 

Thor had missed the party to visit Jane after they rekindled their romance since he’s back on Earth, but upon hearing the news of this guy touching his baby sister, he dealt with it in his own Thor way. 

Trashing the guy’s house. 

Then after, you and the team went inside, watched a movie, ate popcorn, and laughed at the crappy, Hallmark Christmas movie until your sides were sore.

But even now that everyone is asleep and in their respective rooms, you couldn’t sleep.

And so couldn’t Cap.

You look up at the sound of a door opening from the terrace, Steve walking inside after getting his nightly moment of fresh air and because he agreed to water Stark’s plants a long time ago, and because Tony is well, Tony, he assigned him that job for the entirety of his stay here, much to Steve’s dismay. 

But sometimes he didn’t mind it, going out there at night and seeing the stars because you’re so far up here, set aside from the rest of the world in this safe little pocket of a home and solace and the benefit of seeing you out there with a drink in hand, getting some time to yourself. You with a robe on, nightgown peaking beneath, hair in it’s natural, messy form, bare face or face mask on, and glowing smile. That made it worth it. 

Now it’s just the two of you after a night of you confessing your feelings for him, not directly to him per say, but he heard it nonetheless and he stood there, choking on his words because he had to get that leech of a man off of you, it wasn’t the time to discuss your feelings.

But unfortunately for the both of you at this moment, you can. 

“Hey,” you say, the word somehow weighing on your lungs when you breath it out, muting the television. 

“Hey,” he says back, smiling to put you at ease. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” you say, scooting over to give him room and patting the spot now open for him. 

He chuckles at your nervous energy and sits down beside you. He scratches the back of his neck, all that suave nature leaving him. Captain America is anxious.

“I feel... like we should talk about what happened and what you said earlier,” he looks at you, the same begging eyes you look at with Nat when you want her to see you were serious. You see it in his too. They’re wide and pouring out from all seams, want and need. 

“We should,” you nod, awaiting the rejection you’ve been preparing for all night. 

“I’m.. so sorry about that guy, I wanted to kill him for what he did to you and what he was trying to do,” he says, visibly getting angrier but you lay a hand on his, soothing him into a relaxed, calm state. 

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “Guys like that come and go, but guys like you who help, stay forever.” 

He looks down at your intertwined fingers, softly comforting each other, smiles, and breathes a laugh, “I should have done more.”

You tilt your head, “You helped and he’s gone and that’s what matters, so thank you. Don’t take that blame.” 

He finally looks at you. “And when you said that thing... I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” he admits, turning so he sees you in the eyes as you turn to look away from him now, not willing to face him fully. “If I had, I would have...”

“Said no sooner?” you laugh but there’s no humor found in it.

“Can you let me finish?” he tilts his head and smiles, lopsided and pretty. 

You look at him as a signal to continue and he takes it, taking on a bit of your nervous energy in his stammering.

“I like you, y/n, I like you so much,” he says, open and out on display for you. You search his face for the lie, the catch in his words, how this’ll twist around to bite you in the ass and turn out to not be true, all some big elaborate lie or scheme. You don’t know what but what he’s saying can’t be true. 

Not you. Not him. 

“And for so long,” he laughs. “I’m such an idiot, I’ve just been so nervous,” he looks you in the eye, so raw and vulnerable. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You’re a flustered, flattered, blushing, blabbering mess.

“But... you... you avoid in me in the halls,” you say, stunned. “Y-you don’t look me in the eye and you don’t talk to me at times, sometimes for days, only when I initiate it, yet you’re always looking at me and around when I’m there a-and...” you blink hard and rapidly, coming to the realization.

“Oh.”

He gulps, embarrassed himself now, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how or if I had a chance with you, you’re brother’s one of my best friends and I-” He looks to you for forgiveness as he tries to muster up what he wants to say. 

You swallow that lump in your throat and duck to kiss the corner of his mouth, that pink curl of lip you love so much when he’s smirking at something you said or just because, and pull away, looking down at your clasped hands, all of you on fire. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, voice low when you look at him through your thick lashes, demure. “I understand.”

His lips part and heavy sighs leave his mouth, cheeks red with lust and heat, eyes full blown to match. 

He ducks down just as you did, looking in your eye and you nod slowly for confirmation, before he catches your lips in a feverish, desperate kiss, moving with your mouth as you slide closer to him with your hand pressed against his hard chest. 

He takes hold of your thighs and pulls into his broad lap, erection potent against your inner thigh already as you straddle him, soft, flustered movements until you find the best position. His eyes hold both complete adoration and magnetism for you, a groan slipping past his perfect pink mouth when you move against his sweet spot of your doing. Your lips press together again and you move in tandem, tongue sliding past and licking his inner lip, like licking a flame, an ember of fire and ash and coal. You taste like summer rain and full promises of more to come, like hope after a long, hard day that things will get better, while also tentative and unsure. 

His large hand slides up under your t-shirt while the other keeps you steady wrapped around your waist, he moves to pinch both nipples, tweaking the erect, pink bud between his fingers and digs his fingers into your side. Sinful mewls escape you as he tilts your head up for access to the expanses of your neck and down, peppering wet, sloppy, rushed kisses to anywhere he can find, a begging, starving man and you’re his only hope of salvation.

“Steve...” you let out, hand dipping down between his legs and he groans, deep and guttural before catching your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging, your fingers threaded in his hair and pulling, and the moans that fall from him make that tight coil in your gut curl within itself, exciting you.

His cock twitches when he solicits a series of whimpers from you, lifting and pulling your shirt off and over your head to suck your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive peaks, and biting, switching between them. His fingers dance down your stomach and snaps the lining of your panties, sliding a single finger into your sex, the two equally heavenly sensations sending you to that fateful, blissful release you crave, and when a second, a third, joins you’re wrecked, moans falling out and you collapse into him as it subsides, lasting longer than any has before and he’s barely doing anything. 

So this is what it should feel like. 

“You were so good, baby,” he kisses your cheek, then your temple, then your neck, your lips, nose, forehead. “So good for me,” he tells you. “Do you want more, doll?” 

“Absolutely.”

[helaintoloki]

Someone Better

(Queen of Disaster Series)

pairings: Bucky Barnes x qod!reader, some Steve Rogers x reader and some Thor x reader

warnings: language, angst, fluff, insecure Bucky :(

notes: if you guys have any ideas/requests/hc’s you’d like to see played out in the series let me know! // a continuation of the queen of disaster series

summary: Bucky has finally accepted that he likes you. But does your heart already belong to someone else?

Bucky Barnes knows that he likes you.

But what he also knows is that he doesn’t stands a chance with you.

You’re complete opposites, first of all. The Winter Soldier and the Queen of Disaster are two names that should never be put together- unless, of course, you’re purposefully trying to create chaos. Bucky isn’t the kind of man you want. Stoic, closed off, struggling every day to pacify the demons that toil with his sanity. You want someone who can keep up with you, who can match the endless amount of energy you carry, someone who isn’t so uptight and stiff. You want someone who will hold you close and keep you safe at night, not someone who might choke you in your sleep as a result of their night terrors.

Maybe you deserve someone like Steve.

“Come on, Cap! Move your feet!” You encourage, your bright laughter causing the soldier to break out into an embarrassed grin. The speakers of the common room blast a song Bucky has never heard before played by a band the old timer is unfamiliar with.

“My moves aren’t exactly what they used to be, kid,” Steve chuckles bashfully. His big feet step on your toes for the tenth time that day and he cringes at his mistake, but if you notice it you don’t seem to mind his screw up.

The Winter Soldier walks in to see the couches have been pushed back in order to create a makeshift dance floor, and at the center stands a flustered Steve trying to keep up with your movements. Your face is flushed with modest droplets of sweat coating your forehead, stray hairs escaping your ponytail and sticking to the back of your neck. Steve dips you, blue eyes never leaving yours in fear that he may drop you if he isn’t careful, and by god if the laughter that escapes you at the act isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Bucky’s never heard you laugh like that before, and he’s never seen you so carefree and happy. Would you ever let him hold you like that?

“Oh, Bucky!” You exclaim, finally noting his presence. From your view he appears to be upside down, causing you to giggle further. “It’s a good thing you’re here! I’ve been introducing Steve to new songs and dances all day. You should join us!”

“I don’t really dance,” is Bucky’s half assed reply, and it earns him a mock pout from you.

“Nonsense! I can’t feel my toes anymore on account of how many time’s Steve has stepped on them but I’m still having a good time. Come on!” You try again.

“Loosen up a bit, Buck,” Steve agrees with a friendly smile, and Bucky had never wanted to punch his friend more in his entire life than he did now. But it wasn’t Steve’s fault, and it wasn’t yours either. You deserved a good man like Steve, he would treat you right, keep you safe when the monsters came out at night. Captain America stood a better chance at winning your heart than the Winter Soldier ever did.

“Maybe some other time,” Bucky counters dejectedly, quickly fleeing the scene before the two of you can argue further.

He finds out later that the song Steve had so frivolously dipped you to was a song performed by the Contours- Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance). How ironic.

Bucky spends the rest of his evening quietly listening to the song as he imagines what it would be like to dance with you.

Maybe you don’t end up with Steve, but Bucky knows he won’t be next in line to contend for your heart. Maybe you’ll succumb to Thor’s charm and strength.

“Here?” Thor asks. Your eyes raise slowly from your book and glance towards the ground from where you sit.

“Little more to the left,” you direct. It’s then that Bucky walks past your room, stopping in the open doorway flabbergasted at the sight before him. With only one arm is Thor lifting your sofa, and on top of it you sit reading your favorite book as if being carried on your couch by a brawny god is an everyday occurrence for you. The Asgardian does not so much as produce one single droplet of sweat nor does he show any signs of difficulty lifting your furniture. The sight is oddly domestic in a sense, and it makes Bucky’s stomach churn. Sure, he was a super soldier. But there was no comparison there when it came to Thor.

“Here you are, sweet y/n,” Thor announces with a smile, carefully setting you back down. The fondness in his eyes is clear as day as he gazes upon you, and it’s obvious there must be something there. Could there already be something there? “I hope it is to your liking.”

“Thank you Thor, I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” you reply gratefully. Thor was strong, his heart was big enough to encompass an undying love for you if it ever came to that point, and he literally could treat you like royalty. You don’t notice Bucky’s retreating form, and no one says a word about the extra hours he begins putting in at the gym after that.

Falling in love with someone could be complicated, but that was an understatement when it came to Bucky Barnes. Was the Winter Soldier even capable of having a love life? Could a monster who had created countless widows and orphaned thousands of children really be deserving of your love? Or was he doomed to continue his self inflicted penance until his very last breath?

James Barnes didn’t want to know.

~~~

Bucky is half asleep when you make your presence known in his bedroom at three in the morning, prodding his cheek with your index finger and urging him to scoot over. Annoyed but compliant, the soldier does as you wish and allows you the refuge you seek amongst his sheets; he’s too tired to argue with you and pretend that your late night visit bothers him.

“I had a bad dream,” you explain quietly, struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep in and kicking Bucky repeatedly in the process.

“Yeah?” He grunts in response, his metal arm weighing down on your torso to keep you still because god damnit, if your cold foot kicks him one more time.

“I was dreaming... and Tony was dead. Natasha too. And it was dark,” you whisper, not caring whether or not Bucky is listening to the words you so desperately need to get out. “I hate the dark.”

“I know,” Bucky murmurs softly. His warm breath hits the bare skin of your shoulder in a way that assuages the storm festering in the pit of your stomach.

You swallow softly. “It was my fault they were dead. No one told me it was but they didn’t have to. I just knew.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I always mess up. I make mistakes. Fury still thinks I’m just a little kid, and I know there are people who think I don’t belong here with you guys. Because I’ll just get someone killed.”

Silent tears slide down your warm cheeks but your breathing remains steady and calm. Cool metal brushes against your skin as Bucky delicately wipes your tears away.

“You deserve to be here,” Bucky affirms strongly. “You’ve proven yourself countless times before, you’ve held your own, and you’re a team player. You’re literally everyone’s favorite. Are you a little clumsy sometimes? Definitely. Stubborn? Oh, yeah. Immature?”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, wiping away the remaining tears. “Thank you.”

“Anytime brat,” Bucky grins fondly, his heart skipping a beat at the way you latch yourself to his body like a koala would to a tree.

You desperately wish that Bucky could realize that he doesn’t need to be the strongest man or the best dancer to win you over. Holding you in his arms, chasing the nightmares away, and making you feel seen and heard is enough for you.

You really like Bucky Barnes, and you hope that one day he’ll be able to realize just how much he means to you.

| tags: @rororo06 @bbyspiiice @tofeartheunknown @thefallenbibliophilequote @ahappylilybug2019 @iamaunicorn4704 @dumbbitch11 |

[lihikainanea]

Ok so tiger takes Bill ice skating (or skiing, or any winter sport) and it's not that he hasn't done it before, but maybe he kinda underplays how bad he is? And they get out on the ice and he's like a baby deer who refuses to let go of the outside wall.

OH MY GAAAAWWWD this giraffe though. Listen, I’ll never get over this image of clumsy Bill. Do we remember the roller skating incident?

Let’s build on that.

As a good Canadian, I’ve played hockey for my entire life. And there is nothing so incredible than a game of pick up hockey late at night at the local park, everyone in toques and mis-matched jerseys, their breath coming out in visible puffs of air. I still have a very Pavlovian response to the sound of blades on ice, the scrape of sticks--it will always sound like home to me. Pick up games would often go until real late, the lights in all the parks would stay on so people would roll up around 9 or 10 at night. No words needed to be spoken, no invitation extended. You just stepped on the ice, and you started to play. You’d figure out what team you were on after. Sometimes a few spectators would show up, people out on walks or those just needing some peace in whatever way, and they’d line the boards and watch. Whenever you were done playing you’d just give a wave and glide off, sit on a bench, take off your skates--and listen, you are not Canadian unless you then loop your skates around the blade of your hockey stick. And you’d walk home like that, with the stick over your shoulder.

Sorry, random interlude of CANADIANAAAAAAA.

But right, okay, listen--maybe to his credit, Bill did play hockey. But if you’ve ever skated before, you'll know that it’s a very unnerving experience to just...glide. It feels like you’re slipping. And Bill is clumsy, but I think he’s really only clumsy because he’s just so...he’s so big. His arms are so long his torso is so long, he’s so gangly and JUST SO LONG but not solid and there’s no way that a dude with his proportions is not clumsy AF. It’s just the rule of nature. His dimensions don’t make any kind of sense and really there’s no reason, physics-wise, of why he should be held upright. It defies the laws of physics, actually.

But maybe he played hockey in his teenage years, you know, before the growth spurt.

His legs were a lot easier to control when they were normal size.

And maybe he hasn’t gotten on skates since, but he thinks it’s a skill that you never truly lose.

So listen, maybe tiger’s over in Sweden near the holidays, in the countryside at the Skarsgard compound. And the lake is so perfectly frozen, the mornings are still so gloriously dark with a million stars in the sky, and tiger pokes him awake one morning.

“No,” he grumbles sleepily, “Too early for coffee.”

And he tries to snuggle her in closer, throw the blanket over her head, and it almost works--they’re both naked under the covers but his chest is so warm and he smells so good and his head scritchies feel so nice. She almost gives in--but then she looks out the window again and god it’s just too perfect. So she kisses his chest lightly, reaches up to trace his features.

“Billy,” she murmurs, “Let’s go skating.”

“Okay,” he yawns--but then he rolls over right on top of her, plunks his face in her neck--and he doesn’t move. Tiger waits, but as she hears his breathing evening out, she scratches lightly at his back.

“Up,” she pats his bottom, “Come on, it’ll be so magical.”

“No.”

“Please, bud?”

“No.”

She kisses his cheek where she can reach, and scratches a good spot above his ear.

“I’ll wear the Merida costume for you tonight,” she purrs into his ear. Bill shuffles, lifting off of her.

“Yeah alright,” he says sitting up, “There’s some skates in the shed.”

So they bundle up in layers upon layers. Bill finds some skates that look like they might fit. He jokes about wrapping tiger up in bubble wrap to avoid injuries, but her winter coat is pretty thick so it’ll provide enough cushion. He puts a few bandaids in his pocket just in case.

And the morning is just magical--still pitch black, the moon out in full force, the sky lit up by stars. There’s no wind but the air is crisp, and tiger laces her skates up and then waddles clumsily to the frozen lake. Natural frozen surfaces are a lot harder to skate on than an artificial rink, and her first few strides are choppy at best. She flails a bit, scrapes the blades clumsily on the ice as she tries to get her legs back under her, and Bill laughs because every few seconds he hears a panicked yelp and sees her arms shoot out to steady herself. He chuckles, every bit cocky, and Bill doesn’t just step onto the ice--no no, he takes a running start from a few yards away and pushes confidently onto the frozen lake.

Only to have every single one of his limbs scatter, and he splatters like Bambi on the ice. He even slides a good few feet, coming to a very ungraceful stop face down right in front of tiger.

“Holy fuck,” she says concerned, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he brushes himself off as his cheeks redden, “Must’ve been a divot in the ice.”

He stands back up on shaky legs--but he’s just barely upright, tense as all hell, when his foot slides and he flails--this time landing solidly on his back.

“Bill?” tiger asks, suppressing a chuckle.

“Yeah, we’re good here,” he says nonchalantly.

But like, not here’s the thing. Those last two falls knocked the wind out of him, and his already shaky legs are now even more shaky because he’s trying to play it cool. So he wobbles onto his knees, plants one skate on the ice, but he puts entirely too much weight on it and it slides out from under him. He nearly ends up in a split.

“Bud I thought you said that you played--”

“I did tiger,” he snaps. She shuts up, watching as he struggles to get back on his feet. 

“Tell you what,” she extends a hand to help pull him up but he pettily smacks it away, “I’ll go do a lap while you get all of this right side up, then let’s have some coffee yeah?”

“Why? this is fun,” he grumbles in sarcasm. She snickers, pushing off to do a wide loop around the frozen lake. It’s beautiful, the cold wind nipping at her face, everything dark and quiet and nothing but the sound of her blades on the ice. It’s only as she rounds back to shore that she sees it, Bill literally crawling on all fours back to the unfrozen ground. She giggles, gliding to a stop beside him as he crawls.

“Merida costume and a blowjob tonight tiger,” he mutters, “Non-negotiable.”

[bluescarfvivi]

A Taste of Christmas!

Merry Christmas @talifu! 

I’m you’re Secret MSA Santa for @msaholidayspirits! You wanted some fluffy, slice-of-life, wholesome goodness with the team? I got you covered! This is the first year I decided going with a fic! Change it up a bit and try something new! I hope you enjoy it, and have a fantastic holiday season!! 

Briiiing! Briiing!

Briiing! Briiing!

Briiing! Briiing! 

“Nggggh...just five more minutes...I gotta...take the potions...to the village elder…for exchange….exotic breads…” 

“Vivi!” 

Something warm and wet wiped across her cheeks instantly waking the bluenette up from her mumblings. “What!? What...I’m here. ‘M...here, I’m awake...” Somewhat. Her eyes held a stark heaviness, slowly blinking and shutting closed on occasion. “Wh...what’s so...you’re so loud...why..” 

“You slept through your alarm Vivi! Three times!”    

No answer.

“...you do understand what day it is, right?” 

“Mmmis jus’...another...day off for me…” Vivi tossed onto her other side snaking an arm around a very blue, very worn stuffed turtle plush. “M’fine…” 

Mystery sighed. Goodness this girl didn’t even realize why he provoked her. He jumped up on the bed, landing on top of the slow-breathing mound. Two paws massaged the sleeping creature beneath the sheets. “Vivi, it is Christmas. I believe you had plans with the others today involving-”

“HOLY SHIT, WAIT YOU’RE RIGHT!” Why didn’t it click?! It’s one of her favorite holidays! The sudden outburst sent the poor dog tumbling off the bed, but thankfully Mystery timed it so he landed on his feet. Vivi threw the covers off (poor Mystery couldn’t react in time when the sheets descended upon him) and ran to her closet. Most of her clothes lay haphazardly or shoved towards the sides in massive, dirty clumps. She saved a specific outfit just for today. After counting through several hangers, Vivi violently heaved the festive garment off its hanger. It looked as if Jolly Old Saint Nicholas literally used all his magic to make the most appropriately, most disgustingly festive, handknit outfit. Handknit too, and paired with bright dark green stockings. 

“What time is it? What time is it!?” There wasn’t any time to check the clock, nor anytime to waste dawdling in the bathroom. A quick splash of soapy water on her face, a healthy dab of deodorant under her arms, and she called it clean. Now to slip on the dang outfit. She flipped the Christmas dress over her head struggling to shove the material past her chest. One little wiggle after another and the rest fell into place. Two arms through each sleeve, a simple fix near the hem, a onceover in the full body mirror and she looked set to jingle some bells! 

“We still have plenty of time before your arrangement at the Kingsmens.” Mystery trotted in with a sheet in tow, and a Santa hat clutched in his mouth. “I doubt Arthur or Lance won’t you give you much trouble if you arrive just a few minutes late.” 

“I still have to put everyone’s gifts in my bag.” Vivi scurried out of the bathroom back to her bedroom. Over on her desk were neatly wrapped gifts, decorated in various colors and tied together with small bows. Each color seemed to represent a certain person, some were rather small while a few took an extra coating of wrapping paper. She did her best! That’s what she figured. “Come on Mystery. Help me find my purse. I thought I had it on my chair!” 

Mystery sighed. “Alright, just don’t get yourself too much in a tizzy.” It had to be somewhere in her room. He remembered seeing it draped on the back of her desk chair, but now it was covered in one of her bed blankets. He grabbed it with his mouth and pulled it off, with no sign of the item in question. Maybe it got lost in the sea of covers? He nosed into the pile, sticking his head further in until it swallowed him whole. A small lump moved around beneath the pile, and after a few moments his head poked out with a small, deep sea blue purse in his teeth. “Purse found!” 

“Good good good!” Vivi swiped it out, tucking it over her right arm, while her left arm held a brightly colored, green and white paper bag full of her presents. She looked like a modern day Santa Claus in her outfit minus the blue boots. “No more wasting time. We gotta get over there or else lunch will get cold!” Her room may be in a tattered mess, but that would be a problem for future Vivi. 

Her feet flew down the stairs taking two at a time, then jumped off right near the landing. A solid stance: give it an 8/10 since she did misstep. Her winter coat lay on the coat rack near the door, along with Mystery’s own doggie jacket and leash. She fixed up Mystery first, then pulled the jacket over her Christmas outfit. Everyone would get quite a festive surprise when she showed this off.

Double check everything. Purse. Gift. Outfit. Purse. Mystery. She couldn’t have forgotten Mystery of all people. Er well...scratch that one. “Let’s get going! I bet you Lance whipped up something yummy and delicious for us!” 

“Hopefully I won’t have the intoxicating scent of haggis clogging my nostrils.” Mystery mused. 

It wasn’t the best of days in Tempo. Cloudy and rather chilly. Even if the weather appeared gloomy, it couldn’t halt the joyous cheers and jolly greetings from the residents. Maybe the weather was holding out for something…

-----------

The local mechanic shop came into view. The bright, giant crowned wrench lit up just as usual decorated with garland. A little santa hat topped it all off. The windows were adorned with various strings of flashing colored lights, coupled with dripping icicle lights on the awning. Very festive and inviting. 

“Wow, the icicle drips are new! I couldn’t even grab one of those for the book shop!” Vivi commented while watching the light show. “Duet had to order a set online but they didn’t come until a few days later. Chloe and I managed to hang them up before the store opened.” 

“I’m sure all the little ones enjoyed the festive decorations you two put together.” Mystery nodded with a smile. 

Vivi chuckled. “Alright! It’s time to get our Christmas on!” The duo stepped underneath the awning, and Vivi reached out rapping her hand against the wooden door. No answer, not even muffled voices beyond the doorway. They said they could come by anytime around noon. The bluenette double checked pulling out her cell phone. 12:20PM. Late but not ‘fashionably late’ in her eyes. Another knock still didn’t get them anywhere. 

...until she heard a distance crashing sound. 

“What the…” Vivi moved toward the closest window plastering her face against the glass. She peered inside seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The usual storefront was all she took in, albeit it’d been darkened due to the shop closure for the day. She scanned around the rows of hardware, the front desk, and locked on the low light coming from a doorway. That’s the store entrance to their home, but no signs of anyone. “I can’t see anyone near the back but...you heard that too, right?”

Mystery trotted over standing up on his back two legs so he could take a look inside. “I did...however with this low visibility and the nature of the crash I can’t judge whether it’s something we should be concerned about..” 

“There is a side entrance. Let’s try knocking over there.” 

This wasn’t the usual entrance for customers. It’s like a side-alley back door, where the employees could hang out during their break or needed to take out the trash. Piles of scrap metal and rusty materials lay against the brick walls, creaking here and there in the light breeze. Vivi stepped up the two stone stairs and knocked on his steel frame. “Arthur! Lance! It’s me and Mystery!” There wasn’t a response at first so she tried banging a little harder. “Guys? Is anyone-” 

“VIVI!” 

The door swung open catching Vivi and Mystery by complete surprise. She fumbled down the stairs catching herself on top of the squashed dog. Right in the entrance stood a familiar blonde mechanic. The smile on his square face could brighten any cloudy day. The greens and reds adorned on his sweater complimented the bright red nose taped over his own nose. 

“Heeeeeey Vivi! Uh...sorry for scaring you there!” He offered her a helping hand. “I was about to catch you at the front, but then Lance told me he heard the knocks coming from the side.” 

“That’s okay Artie.” Vivi sighed adjusting the bottom hem of her Christmas dress. “I wasn’t sure whether I should have gone the usual way or try my chances around here.” 

“It’s noooo problem!” Arthur seemed very enthusiastic, and oddly cheery. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit...or he could be hiding whatever that faint trail of smoke billowing in the corner. Something seemed suspicious about that. 

“Well...in any case, we’re sorry for coming here late. I overslept...a bit, but we’re here for a good lunch!” 

“Yeeeeeah, so...about that.” Arthur chuckled nervously. 

“Artie!” The familiar, Scottish drawl of the mechanic shop owner brightened the bluenette’s smile. A shorter man sauntered from behind the taller blonde rubbing a handkerchief over his thick beard. Lance wore a matching sweater, just like Arthur, with a Santa reindeer-horned hat on top. “Why are you letting this lass stand out in the freezing cold!? Bring her in! Come on, Vivi! We’re just about ready to eat!” 

“Thank you Uncle Lance!” Vivi politely bowed, then skipped up the stairs past Arthur’s fumbling expression. 

“Uuuuh Lance, are you sure you...really want to…” 

“Ahhh don’tcha worry there, Artie. The fish may not have come out as perfect as planned, but that’s why we have a backup!” Lance laughed heartily.

“So that was the loud bang I heard, and why you looked in such a titz when you opened the back door.” Vivi commented adding a playful jab at his arm. It wasn’t a big deal or horrible outcome if something didn’t turn out right. Just take Vivi’s own cooking as an example! No one could ever trust what she brought to the table, and Vivi knew it very well. 

“Heh heh...sorry about that.” Arthur shyly smiled and scratched one one his stripped sidebangs. “We really did want to make something special for the holiday, and just for you as well, but…” 

Vivi stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, accompanied with a small squeeze. “You don’t need to apologize for the flop. These things happen, and as long as I’m spending Christmas with my favorite people in the world I’m happy.” She smiled sweetly. 

Arthur returned the smile with a goofy, toothy grin of his own. “Right...thanks Vi.” With that all cleared up, the blonde seemed to spring back to life. He hopped in front of the doorway leading inside the mechanic’s living quarters. His posture mimicked that of a fancy, snobby butler: puffed out chest, arms tight against his sides, his nose stuck in the air, and his hair slicked back. It sure got the giggles out of Vivi. “Now, madame and monsieur, I do hope you have prepared yourself for quite the luncheon.” His rigid left arm extended towards the door, carefully opening it until it stopped creaking. “Do have yourself a wonderful time~” 

Vivi couldn’t stop giggling but played along with this silly act. She politely bowed to the ‘butler’ and curtsied her dress. “Oh thank you my good sir. How polite and...mannerly you are to such an exquisite lady such as myself.” Even Mystery played along bowing his head. The three joined in a fit of laughter before joining Lance’s round table. 

It was a fantastic lunch: a healthy spread of sandwiches, various flavors of chips, and drinks galore. Galaham and Mystery were treated with scrumptious delights. Vivi may have slipped a few pieces of salami, ham, and of course...roasted chicken into his bowl. Arthur’s little ham-ham was treated to yogurt bites. The tiny hamster munched them all down, and then some. At one point he crawled up Arthur’s pant leg begging and scritching his sweater for more sweet treats. He couldn’t resist those beady, black eyes! 

Jokes were thrown plenty around the table. Arthur stabbed two pickles on two separate forks and used those as tiny feet, while his giant head became the make-believe character’s body. Vivi snorted up a storm which resulted in spewing out fizzy soda through her nostrils. Absolutely gross, but hilarious nonetheless. After the clean up, Arthur brought out one of his prototype catapults. He played ‘fling the meat at the Mystery’ while Vivi offered to help Lance clean in the kitchen. All in all a successful afternoon at the Kingsmens! 

A few hours passed, and once everything was set back to normal Vivi and Arthur grabbed their stuff. It wasn’t too late in the afternoon, but their next destination was a bit of a longer distance. Arthur offered to take the van instead of walking there, and when Vivi stepped outside after soaking in the cozy warmth she immediately agreed. 

“I may be back late Lance, so don’t worry about leaving the back door unlocked.” Arthur patted the smaller man on the shoulder. “I got my keys so everything is fine.” 

“Aye, alrighty then.” Lance nodded, and slapped Arthur on the back. Not too hard but enough force for Arthur to cough once. “Just don’t forget to get yer bum back here in the morning. We got the New Year’s stock coming in and you know how it be like around here right after Christmas.” 

“Oh I know...I know very well.” Arthur shuddered. “Don’t worry, and I won’t go too crazy either.” He stepped outside the back door heading for the bright yellow van. Best to start up the old girl and get her warmed up. 

Vivi took one of Lance’s hands firmly shaking it, then politely bowed once again. “It was a pleasure getting to spend the afternoon with you. I enjoyed the food and the good company. So did Mystery.” The dog chimed in with a playful bark. “Thank you so much for inviting me over.” 

“Aaaaah you know we love having you around here.” Lance smiled warmly. “It warms my beating heart seeing you and Arthur so happy.” He jabbed her on the arm. “Now go and git! The Peppers are waiting for you!” 

Vivi excitedly nodded. “Merry Christmas Lance!” She waved as the two ran out towards the van. The passenger door swung open, letting Vivi easily slide into the seat and Mystery hop into her lap. “Alright Artie! TO PARADISIO!” 

“High ho Silver! Away we go!” 

The van took off across the damp ground, smoothly transitioning to the pavement. It seemed like the clouds drew thicker, and darker too. Did the weather call for snow today?

-----

“Feliz Navidad!” 

The joyous, festive greeting welcomed Arthur, Vivi, and Mystery upon their arrival at the local restaurant. The Peppers shut down for the day in observance, but for those lucky few who personally knew the family it meant the whole place for themselves. Garland adorned across the booth seats, white lights draped down from the ceiling, and on each table were candles of various reds and greens. 

Even the Peppers went all out for the occasion, including their outfits. Mr. and Mrs. Pepper dressed in identical red and white attire complete with matching hats. Were they trying to play off Santa Claus and Mrs.? They looked adorable, but the ones who really stole the show were the little sisters. Green and white striped socks, dark green jackets with a buckle laced over the front, red mittens, and pointed green hats with glued on pointed elf ears! 

“I see you two have quite the helpers on your hands.” Vivi giggled and leaned down admiring the girls’ outfits. Paprika gently pushed herself past Cayenne, who kept picking at a small hole in her left mitten. 

“Mama picksed it out four usssh.” Every time her tongue clicked against her front teeth or she made certain hard sounds, a hissing whistle accompanied. It looked like little Paprika just recently lost a tooth! “I helped pick out thhhhhe mittens…” 

“You did a great job helping out your mama.” Vivi smiled warmly. She patted Paprika on the head, careful not to let the hat fall off. Afterwards she stood back up looking around the empty restaurant. The majority of the Peppers were here to greet them, all except for one. “I thought we’d get to see all the family at the front door but….where’s-” 

“MAMA!” A familiar, baritone voice echoed from the other end of the restaurant. The sounds of running sneakers squeaked on the linoleum flooring, and from the “OUT” door bursted a recognizable, purple-haired boy. “Mama, I just took the pork out of the oven, but I think it may have overcooked!” 

Mrs. Pepper didn’t say a word, but the gleaned seen in her right eye said all. No one could get in her way. Her husband immediately stepped to the side allowing the woman her pathway towards the back kitchen. He followed her just a few feet behind. Lewis held the door open until they disappeared into the unknown. She knew what had to be done. No one else could bother her now. Which meant it was Lewis’ turn for his holiday greeting. 

“Vivi! Arthur!” The larger, broad shouldered member spared no time taking each of his friends in a tight hug. He always gave the best, most squishy hugs! Vivi giggled while attempting her own hug back, but Arthur succumbed to the vice grip letting him shake the mechanic around like a rag doll. They shared their laughs then Lewis broke off, making Arthur gasp for more air. “It’s great having you guys over here again. Sorry I couldn’t swing by your place, Artie.” 

“No..” He spat that out with a cough. “It’s...it’s all good, big guy. We had a...great lunch and I know...you always *COUGH* help out your folks here...”

“Veevee….veevee...veevee….” Belle snuck underneath Lewis’ legs and grabbed hold of a hand. “Come over and see what Santa left us!!” 

“Yeah yeah!!” Joining behind Vivi was the troublemaker of the girls, Cayenne. “Santa left a HUUUUGE haul of gifts this year! He must have known I’ve been extra good.” The smaller girl gently pushed Vivi, and with Belle tugging the bluenette towards the tree what could she do. No way out of this now. 

“Well I think the girls are going to kidnap me for a while. If you need me, I’ll be over in toyland.” 

“No worries Viv!” Lewis chuckled waving her off. It’s heartwarming, as their older brother, how much the little ones enjoyed Vivi’s company. She held this welcoming air, always inviting others into her conversations or going out of her way to make a total stranger smile. Bless her little beating heart. 

“...Hey big guy!” Arthur snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Helloooo, earth to Lewis? You still with me buddy or are you wandering off into space again?” 

“Oh!” It took him a few blinks before his mind wandered back to Earth. “My bad, I was just...surprised the girls could take Vivi before even I had a chance to say Merry Christmas.” 

“Well, you know it’s one of their favorite times of the year, including Vivi herself. Have you seen the outfit she planned? It’s like Christmas threw up all over her!” Not much of a complaint, but more of a blunt truth. Arthur loved her enthusiasm when it came to the holidays. 

Lewis chuckled heartily. “That’s Vivi for you though. When it involves something she loves, or spreading some happiness in this quiet town she goes all out.” He placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder nudging his other arm playfully. “Come on, take your coat off and get warm. Papa made a special hot cocoa blend for today!” 

“Two editions, to be precise!” Mr. Pepper piped up from the kitchen window. “We concocted two special recipes combining the sweetness and rich flavor of chocolate and added a little fiery kick to the batch.” As if he were waiting for this moment, Mr. Pepper brought out two crock pots setting them right below the window. “The one on the left is a chili spiced hot chocolate and the right one is a cinnamon spiced chocolate mix. Add some of our homemade, fluffy marshmallows to the mix and it’s pure delight!” Mrs. Pepper took that cue to slip a small bowl of square-shaped marshmallows on the window counter. Perfect timing! 

“Hmmmm…” Arthur took a moment thinking it over and stroking his maroon goatee. Every time he tried something new here it either ended in his tongue bursting into flames or having a mellow, sweet filled experience. 50/50 shot. He’d bite the bullet. “I think I’ll take a stab at the cinnamon spiced one.” Again, right on cue, a Christmas cup skidded across the window counter. Mrs. Pepper nodded from behind, holding a large ladle on her shoulder then disappearing once again. No other comment from Arthur when he accepted the cup, then scooped about a half-cup worth. He picked a few marshmallows, letting them splash and soak up the hot, sweet liquid. A few ‘huffs’ across the surface and Arthur carefully sipped. 

“They’ve been working on these recipes this past month.” Lewis poked in taking some of the chili based hot cocoa. “My sisters and I were the taste testers. I couldn’t tell you how many batches they worked through until they came up with a finalized product. It’s not the ABSOLUTE final yet, but they need others’ opinions. Our taste buds have gotten used to the flavors by now.”

“Oh..*cough* of course…” Arthur smiled with a nervous chuckle. It’d been one sip but he could feel the kick right in his throat. Delicious yes, but a wake-up call as well. “It’s….*cough*, it’s really good...I’m not dying from it I swear, it’s...really really good with the spice…” 

Time must have passed quickly since their arrival. Mrs. Pepper returned to the front, with Mr. Pepper in tow, leading everyone to the back area of the restaurant. Right through the kitchen and pass the freezers, the Peppers prepared a section of their living quarters for dinner. Various side dishes spread across the table, trays of sliced meats (that pork did come out well) and of course, sweets of all kinds decked out on a table against the wall. That’s what Vivi looked forward to the most. 

The company was lively and boisterous. The Pepper sisters could never sit still in their seats, so they slipped underneath the table at times playing ‘tag’ with Mystery. He kept an eye on them just in case they wound up in any trouble, or plotted causing any too. Such mischievous little girls. Vivi scarfed down everything on her plate, then seconds, and thirds, with a little bit of fourths. Didn’t she already have a big lunch today? How could she be so hungry? 

It’s a mystery Lewis and Arthur never understood, nor did they bother figuring out. 

Arthur talked up a storm about the shop and his new blueprints for the coming year. A working, mechanical arm was his biggest project to date, but it didn’t sound like it’d be easy. Lewis didn’t talk much but laughed and smiled along with the conversations. He enjoyed the warm atmosphere, being around the people he called his family, and having his close friends to spend it with too. 

“Mama! Mama!” After the sweets were eaten and cleared (thanks to Vivi as well), the three little sisters ran into the backroom. Mystery came in tow with a snow covered snout. Paprika ran up to her mother climbing up and sitting in her lap. “Mama mama, itshh shhnowing outshide!”

Everyone scrambled outside. Arthur and Vivi threw their jackets on, Lewis put on a simple coat, and the sisters waltzed outside in their Christmas attire. Sure enough, flaky specks of snow dotted the now blackened night sky. The lights from downtown illuminated off the low hanging clouds making the entire town glow. Combine that with the spots of colored Christmas lights and it made everything look vibrant and colorful. 

“It’s so pretty….” Vivi stared into the sky, eyes lighting up with their own natural glow. “Snow on Christmas Day...who would’ve thought-” 

“INCOMING!!” The sentimental moment came to a screeching halt when a rogue snowball landed right in Vivi’s face. She heard Arthur snickering across the street, and three little squeaks too. So that’s how it would be, wouldn’t it? 

Vivi shook her head, much like a dog, getting rid of the cold, wet snow. “I see you have declared war upon us!” She tucked an arm around Lewis and scooped Mystery into her other arm. “Well, if that’s how it shall be then we will not back down from this battle! Lewis, start piling up snow! Mystery, stand guard and use your small body as a distraction.”

“R-Roger, Captain Vivi!” He broke away and scrambled to start squishing snow into smaller balls. Mystery wiggled free and playfully barked at the girls. Vivi, however, took a chance and scooped up snow in her arms. If they were about to head into battle they would need a solid foundation to keep themselves safe. 

“You’re going down Arthur!” 

Back and forth with the playful, sassy talk. Mr. and Mrs. Pepper watched from the safety of the opened back door. It looked like the snow would continue through the night. The wind and chill could freeze anyone to the bone, unless you were as fired up as these kids. 

Another successful Christmas spent together. What more could anyone here ask for, other than a warm fireplace once the snowballs ceased.

[sickslickman]

Welcome to the Table States

Been thinking of doing this for a while, just a cast list for Welcome to the Table by main, major recurring, minor recurring, and guest spots. Let me know if I missed anyone. Also I don’t know sports teams worth a damn, so if I don’t name the state’s jerseys as they should be, that’s why.

Main cast:

(These are characters that premiered in the first episode and appear in most if not all of the episodes. Note: unless otherwise mentioned, all characters in this series are portrayed by Ben Brainard)

DC: The District of Columbia. Runs the meetings. Acts as the leader, but occasionally the shady side of politics comes out of him. Trying desperately to keep his sanity amid the virus, BLM, and everyday American life. His appearance goes from wearing a polo shirt to a suit and tie. Appears in every episode.

Call: “I’m about to do something drastic!”

Florida: The Sunshine State. The Mr. Hyde to DC’s Dr. Jekyll, he is all for absolute chaos and fun over order and following guidelines, and basically comes to the meetings solely to ruin DC’s day. Knows how to call every state because everyone eventually moves to Florida. His appearance is usually a tank top, shorts and a bucket hat. Believes that the coronavirus is a hurricane (or a tropical storm, it varies from day to day). Appears in every episode.

Call: “Duval!”

Texas: The Lone Star State. Usually represents everything the conservative side stands for (guns, politics, religion, women’s rights, big government, you get the drill). His appearance is a red button down shirt and a black cowboy hat. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Sing lines from “Who Put All My Ex's in Texas” by Willie Nelson

California: The Golden State. Usually represents everything the progressive liberal side stands for (abortion, anti-police, anti-fascism, anti-confederacy, BLM, you get it). His appearance is hipster based with beanie and thick-framed glasses. Appears in most episodes.

Call: “Hey Human Torch!” (Unknown if that’s official call or if it just worked because of the wildfires currently ongoing in California)

New York: The Empire State. Tends to be gruff, abrasive and sometimes hostile with his arms almost always folded. Politically is sort of the middle ground between Texas and California; mostly would rather be doing anything else. His appearance used to be a winter coat and hat but has since switched to a Giants jersey. Appears in most episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time, but does react when someone claims their pizza is better.

Major Recurring:

(These are states that make frequent appearances and/or have a strong presence)

Louisiana: The Pelican State. Florida’s best friend and main partner in crime. Very laid back. Only character that speaks with a Cajun accent. His appearance was initially a bucket hat and suspenders with no shirt, but has gradually shifted to wearing LSU gear. Loves daiquiris and gators. Appears in most episodes. His premiere episode is the most watched episode of the series.

Call: “Who dat? Who dat?”

(Note: At this point he has appeared in as many episodes as the main cast, considering bumping him up to main.)

Georgia: The Peach State. Always acts like he just got out of bed, and is almost never seen without a mug of coffee. His appearance has gradually shifted from pajamas to Panthers gear. About as chaotic as Florida, but more out of being dim-witted than out of desire for chaos. Appears in many episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

West Virginia: The Mountain State: The only state to appear in the pilot episode that is not a main character. Appears very infrequently. His appearances usually involve following coronavirus guidelines and his usage of the word “f***.” Initially dressed in Amish clothing, he has since changed to a Mountaineers football shirt and hat.

Call: Unknown at this time

Washington: The Evergreen State. As the American spread of the coronavirus originated in Seattle, he is almost always coughing but passes it off as “allergies.” Usually wears a dark short-sleeved button down and hipster glasses with ear buds. Appears in several episodes.

Call: Unknown at this time

Massachusetts: The Bay State. Appears frequently and loudly. Has a love-mostly-hate relationship with New York. Tends to be a very abrasive and loud voice of reason. His appearance has gone from a Celtics jersey to a Bruins one.

Call: “Is that Matt Damon and Ben Affleck?”

Utah: The Beehive State. His appearance is a dress shirt and tie and he usually carries a Bible. He is a Mormon and very religious. Has an antagonistic relationship with Florida, who constantly belittles him and inquires about his multiple wives (which Utah does not do anymore). Appears semi-frequently.

Call: “I wish someone were here to tell me about my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!”

Kentucky: The Bluegrass State. Usually wears a dress sweater and carries a picture of Governor Andy Beshear with him everywhere. Tends to be a voice of reason and one of the least problematic states at the table, which is surprising given who his senator is. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Pronounce “Louisville”

The Carolinas: Both make frequent and strong appearances, and both have a rough relationship with Florida. Both wear T-shirts reflecting their states.

South Carolina: The Palmetto State. Likes to remind Florida of the Jameis Winston crab legs incident. Gets annoyed if you say his barbeque is trash. Loves college football and is always talking about Clemson.

Call: “Carolina BBQ is trash!”

North Carolina: The Tar Heel State. Although he has only appeared in the series fairly recently, he has already become a recurring character. Loves barbecues and basketball. Tends to get hit with a lot of natural disasters.

Call: “It’s bo time!”

Colorado: The Centennial State. Wears a blue T-shirt and a ski hat with goggles. Is usually high all the time and constantly talks about weed. Appears semi-frequently.

Call: Howl like a wolf

Alaska: The Last Frontier. Has only appeared a couple of times but has made a strong impression. Wears an “Alaskan grown” shirt and winter hat. Speaks in a slow but patient voice. Likes to be left alone. Has a friendly rivalry with Texas on account of size. Is a little weird but friendly enough.

Call: None. He is always there. Like Batman.

Minor Recurring:

(These are for characters that are more like supporting characters. Note that although several of these states have had episodes focusing on them, their overall presence is less than that of the major recurring)

Indiana: The Hoosier State. Has only appeared twice. Has trouble coming to terms with Mike Pence’s alleged homosexuality. Not much else notable about him.

Call: Sing the Indiana Jones theme (Although he would prefer “Hoo hoo!”)

Pennsylvania: The Keystone State. Appears semi-frequently but is mostly a slightly less abrasive New York or Massachusetts. Wears an Eagles jersey in most appearances. Constantly asking for a drink. Constantly asking people to choose between Wawa or Sheetz.

Call: “We are!”

Wisconsin: The Badger State. Wears a giant foam Swiss cheese hat on his head. Is perpetually drunk. Argues in favor of the rights of the people (although not always in the best ways). Hates Illinois and especially the Bears.

Call: “Anyone need anything from Quik Trip?”

Illinois: The Prairie State. Mostly just known for Chicago and not much else. Wears a Cubs jersey and hat. Seems rather old fashioned and does not like alcoholics. Everyone in his state seems to hate each other. Hates Wisconsin and has arguments with New York in regards to who makes better pizza.

 Call: Unknown, but seems to react to someone insulting the Bears.

Ohio: The Buckeye State. Loves skyline chili and wine at two o’clock. Begins just about every sentence with “ope.” Used to dress like a rapper wannabe, but now dressed in Ohio State gear. Hates Michigan and given the chance would kill him himself.

Call: “O-H!”

Michigan: The Great Lake State. Wears a Lions jersey and hat and brings a bottle of Vernors with him everywhere. Hates Ohio and wants to beat Ohio State at football.

Call: “Liberate Michigan!”

New Mexico: The Land of Enchantment. Appears very infrequently. Speaks Spanish on top of English. Is intelligent to a degree but will throw down if necessary. Mostly talks about cultural things. Wears a blue hoodie-looking sweater.

Call: Unknown, but responds when someone claims to have better green chili.

Mississippi: The Show Me State. Claims to be the “Harvard of the South.” Carries a water bottle with him wherever he goes. Gets into arguments with California over Confederate momentos.

Call: Unknown at this time

Alabama: The Cotton State. Mostly appears in the weekly recap videos. Represents the philosophies of the Deep South. Not much else known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Arizona: The Grand Canyon State. Appears mostly as a semi-frequent character in the weekly recap videos. Not much else is known about him.

Call: Unknown at this time

Missouri: The Show Me State. Appears semi-frequently in the weekly recap videos. Not much is known about him other than he likes barbeque and has a feud with Kansas over Kansas City.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oklahoma: The Sooner State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos but has made other appearances too. Tends to be rather sarcastic and blunt, but is prone to overreaction at times. Hates Texas.

Call: Unknown at this time

Tennessee: The Volunteer State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Tends to be high-pitched and melodramatic.

Call: Unknown at this time

Oregon: The Beaver State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and was vocal against the use of police brutality and unmarked abductions.

Call: Unknown at this time

Minnesota: The North Star State. Appears mostly in the weekly recap videos. Was very active during the BLM protests and in support of defunding police and reallocating resources. Tends to be a voice of reason.

Call: Unknown at this time

Connecticut: The Constitution State. Has only appeared a few times in the weekly recap videos. Tries to avoid dealing with Florida as much as he can.

Call: Unknown at this time

Maryland: The Free State. Wore a T-shirt in early appearances but is now decked out in crab gear in recent ones. As abrasive as a northern state, but with as much pride as a southern one. Early episodes had a running gag of Maryland’s issues regarding coronavirus tests.

Call: “Anyone have any Old Bay?”

The Dakotas: Appear infrequently. Only have about thirty-six people among both of them.

North Dakota: Has only appeared a couple of times. Not much is known about him.

South Dakota: Has appeared more often than his brother, but usually only talks about the Sturgis Bike Rally. Also is trying to fight meth.

Call: “Who’s the better Dakota again?” (will call both of them)

Iowa: The Corn State. One of the biggest running gags in the series is that no one seems to know where he is or how to get in touch with him. Tends to come and go from meetings whenever he sees fit.

Call: Unknown at this time

Background characters:

(Characters that only appear once or have no real significance to the series)

Nevada: The Silver State. Has only appeared once. Dresses like a Vegas dancer.

Rhode Island: The Ocean State. Has only appeared once to discuss his name change.

New Jersey: The Garden State. Has only appeared once. Doesn’t like it when New York keeps visiting him.

Wyoming: The Equality State. Has only appeared once when Florida insulted his name.

Nebraska: The Cornhusker State. Has appeared a couple of times but has had no real significance.

Kansas: The Sunflower State. Has only appeared a couple of times. Tends to feud with Missouri over Kansas City.

Idaho: The Gem State. Has only appeared once(?).

Arkansas: The Natural State. His only real appearance was in the poker episode when everyone told him he couldn’t play on account of he never shuts anything down and can’t weigh in with anything.

Delaware: The First State. Has only appeared twice. Like the state itself, nothing of significance has yet been noted.

Virginia: The Old Dominion. Has only appeared a couple of times, and his only notable role was in the mask debate.

States that still have not made an appearance:

Montana

Vermont

Maine

New Hampshire

Hawaii (Note that Brainard has stated he wishes to find a Hawaiian native actor to play this character.)

Other characters in this series:

CDC: The Center of Disease Control. Originally played by Ben Brainard, the role has since been taken over by comedian Drew Lynch. An overworked, underappreciated man who tries to get the states to adhere to coronavirus regulations. He has a bad stutter and has not slept in weeks. He may be being kept alive purely on coffee and good intentions.

International DC: Played by Elana Rose. Has only appeared once. DC’s sister and the international relations part of the federal government. She’s not very good at her job and tends to act very “mean girl.”

Mother Nature: Played by Liz, aka “lozclaws”. The goddess of earthling weather. Has an on-again off-again relationship with Florida.

Claire: Also played by Liz. Mother Nature’s...roommate? Mother? Not entirely sure. Tries to be a voice of reason to a pair with very little reason between the two of them.

The National Guard: The national army. Has only appeared twice, once to bodyguard Maryland, the other to discuss the BLM protests.

The 3rd Amendment: The third amendment to the Constitution of the United States. Only appeared once. It was very confusing.

Virginia: Kentucky’s sign-language interpreter. Only appeared once. Was deeply offended by Florida (as we all are).

Greg the Sound Guy: The guy who handles the audio and holds the mic boom for the show. Only appeared twice. Probably doesn’t get paid enough.

[magalidragon]

targaryen’s seven | a Jonerys drabble

A/N: I could not help myself and just threw down this Drabble. I  don’t want to post it on Ao3 just yet because is not a full one-shot nor is it going to be multi-chapter (in the near future, maybe one day I will come back to it) but thought you guys might like it.  Enjoy!

The wind bit at her exposed skin, cheeks pinking without any aide of blush or tint.  It whipped over her silver curls and braids, already pulled back taut from her face.  It would have chilled anyone’s bones, except hers.  Her bones were heated from the heavy thud of her heart against her breastbone, the rush of blood in her veins, and the fire raging inside her soul.  The fire which rose to sparkle in her lavender eyes, redden her plump and pursed lips, and thirsted for revenge.  

In the dark winter in the North, far beyond the everlasting lights and skyscrapers of King’s Landing, the craggy peaks of the Vale, and the marshy flats of the Riverlands, no one walking by on the quaint lantern-lit light posted street with its cozy restaurants, pubs, boutique hotels, and little shops devoted to preserving the heritage of the Realm’s largest, sparsest, and remotest kingdom.  

The woman standing against one of these lightposts, her hands in the pockets of her designer black trenchcoat, hardly paying attention to the bustle of people.  There were locals intermixed with tourists—it was the Dawn Festival soon—going from building to building, stopping to take photos in front of silly little cardboard cutouts of ice zombies and Northmen.

Only a few stopped in their tracks to glance at her, for she stood out among the darkness and the cold snow, her silver hair a moonlit beacon, her entire demeanor that of someone who should not be trifled with nor confronted.  One glance of her purple eyes and they were on their way, bewitched almost to forget she was even there to begin with.  

She lifted her left wrist up to peer at the heavy silver men’s wristwatch, ticking softly under the wail of the wind.  Daenerys Targaryen tsked under her breath.  “He’s late,” she murmured.  She supposed it was silly to think he would actually honor her summons.  He would not be coming then.

Well I suppose I will have to go looking for him.

Her heavy black combat boots crunched under the fresh snows, hands returning to her pockets, walking slowly down the sidewalk.  The last time she was here had not been pleasant.  The Northern History Museum had been far more difficult to crack than she’d originally planned.  She had barely made it out of there with the silver wolf circlet she’d broken in to steal.  Retrieve, she preferred, even if the authorities had different views on the matter.

The silver wolf circlet allegedly belonged to a Northern queen, who rebelled against the kingdoms and ultimately died of starvation when all her allies abandoned her. It was exceptionally expensive and the funds of which now had been siphoned into a series of orphanages the Northern government had been sorely neglecting.

Her walk took her from the local streets a bit farther off the beaten track, the lamps extinguished or nonexistent, the people fewer and fewer, until she was the only one on a darkened street.

Dany paused in front of a pub, glancing down at her phone.  A message from her hacker—Missandei—informed her his cell phone had been pinging from that location an hour ago.  She glanced up, smirked at the worn sign-- The Wildling -- hanging on one hinge.  It was not for charm, but because the owner no doubt didn’t care about it.  Perfect.

She entered the pub, which suddenly went quiet.  Everyone stared at her.  Dany reached up to pull at one of the buttons on her coat, her smile amused, gaze sweeping from one end to the other of the less than desirable establishment.  She was not a local, she should not be there, but she did not care, purposefully striding towards the ancient bar, where a gigantic man with thick red beard and wild eyebrows surveyed her with bright blue eyes.  

“Ale please,” she ordered, sweet.

The man chuckled.  “You’re not from around here.”

“Nope.”

“You lost?”

Dany smiled, taking another look over her shoulder at the clientele, all of whom were still staring at her. She met the man’s gaze again, shaking her head.  “Nope.”

They looked at each other, unblinking, for what seemed like several minutes, but was only a couple.  A boom of laughter finally broke their silent pissing contest, the man slapping his dustbin lid sized hand on the bar, pointing at her, grinning darkly.  “I like you.”  He reached under the bar for a pint.  “Attitude like that, first one’s on me.”  

“I was hoping you could pass something along for me to one of your regulars.”

“Can’t say anyone you know would be in my pub,” the man said.  He set her pint glass full of darkened ale.  He grinned again.  “But try me.”

Dany slipped her fingers into one of the inner pockets of her coat, removing a slim black box.  She set it down on the bar, pushing it with one red manicured finger towards him.  Another enigmatic smile did the trick. “This is for Jon Snow.”

The entire pub might as well have gone on mute.

The jovial bartender immediately hardened, those twinkling blue eyes now chips of ice.  He was gruff.  “Don’t know a Jon Snow.”

“I think you do Tormund Giantsbane.”  Dany climbed off her stool, took a long pull from the ale glass, and wiped the foam from her upper lip.  The gruffness of the bartender dropped like a mask at her sudden use of his full name.  She liked to stun them.  It was fun that way. She turned, calling over her shoulder.  “Put it on his tab.”

The heavy oak door swung closed behind her with a deafening thud.  Dany liked the taste of that ale, making a note she would have to return if she was ever in the mood for it again.  She tugged her phone out, now a message from her ghost, warning her that this was a bad idea and they should try some other way.  

Barristan had said the same thing.  So had Daario.  Grey and Gendry might have also agreed, if Missy and Arya hadn’t been as forceful as they had with their displeasure.  Sometimes it was bothersome to have members of a team fucking, but Dany accepted the two couples because they worked well together and did not usually let their personal issues bleed into the world.  

Plus they all had reason for this job.  Well, not Daario, but he would do anything she asked because he was in love with her.

They all tried to convince her to get someone else.  There were plenty who would kill to be a part of her team.  To join them in this endeavor.  No one else would do, she told them, calm and quiet.  

It had to be him.

She returned to her car, parked in a community lot near the main square, and paid the exorbitant parking fee, even if it probably would have been easier to just use one of Missandei’s contraptions to hack her way out of the 15 stags.  She drove off, humming along to a silly pop song playing from whatever radio station had been on when she picked up the car at the Winterfell International Airport.

Ah Winterfell, so many memories.  The castle loomed large over the city that bore its name.  It was a museum now, even if the Stark family still retained some ownership of it.  Somewhere on the other side in more modest accommodations a few of the Stark family still lived. 

The Starks weren’t as big as they once were.  They were desperate for cash.  All they had were their titles, such as they were.  Dany thought about Arya Stark, her ghost, who technically bore the honorific Lady, but if you thought of calling her that you would get a knife in the gut.  It was part of her reason for taking this job.  

They all had reasons and now she just needed the final player in the game.

In lieu of a hotel, as much as she would like someone to pull back her linens and prepare a fire for her when she turned in for the evening, she rented out a luxury cabin several miles away.  It afforded her privacy, stunning views, and a large sunken tub.  Dany liked a sunken tub.

She parked, walked up to the front door, and smiled to herself at the threshold.  So obvious. She slipped in the key and entered, turning to plug in the code for the alarm panel.  When she turned back, she slipped off her coat, and walked into the large stone paneled living room, with its great fireplace—already crackling—and mountain filled wall of windows.  

“Hello Jon.”

The chair before the fire turned, revealing its occupant, who sat rather bored, legs crossed and fingers tapped against his temple.  He looked the same as ever, she thought, if not better.  Dark raven curls, wild around his face, which had been chiseled from marble.  Dark beard dusting over his jaw and upper lip, his gray eyes black in the shadow of the fire.  All black ensemble, which she knew hid a body that was as chiseled as his face.  Smooth planes and sharp edges, he was a masterpiece.

And he was deadly.  

The gray eyes glinted, just a hint of red.  Could have been from the fire, or it could have been something else.  

Her smile peeled over her teeth.  “My white wolf,” she purred.

Jon Snow smiled in return, although it did not meet his eyes, rather cold, as cold as the storm that began outside, the faintest hints of howling wind sounding.  “Daenerys Targaryen,” he said, in his rumbling Northern burr.  He kept smiling, until he wasn’t.  

And then he was at her throat, his fingers digging into the slim column, tilting up her jaw, his breath mingling with hers, warm and raspy.  Her eyes threatened to roll back into her head and her body ignited, fire consuming her.  He barely touched his mouth to hers, barely breathing.  “I thought I said I would kill you the next time I saw you.”

Now it was her turn to smile.  She lifted her hand, his eyes rolling down to it.  The cold steel of her dragonhead knife was against his jugular.  Even if his thumb was pressing down on her carotid, threatening to cut off her oxygen, she knew he wouldn’t.  Just like he knew she wouldn’t kill him.  Draw blood maybe, but she could never kill him.  “Darling, I think you forgot, it was I who said that.”

“Hmm.”  He drew in her scent, nostrils flaring, and eyes going red again.  The wolf, she noted, her skin prickling, and her body straining towards him.  Not to break free, but to join him. There would be time for that later. His thumb dragged over her bottom lip and she darted her tongue out to touch it.  He groaned, his nose pushing to hers, laugh deep in his chest.  “You came looking for me.”

“I will always come looking for you.”

“I don’t want it.”  His dark brows arched, the feral wolf flickering over his features again, hiding his obvious desire for her.  She bucked her hips against him, reminding him.  He laughed.  “Peace offering, huh?”  He immediately let her go and flicked the box towards her.  He growled.  “You stole that from me.”

“And I’m giving it back.”  She opened the box, revealing the white wolf head pommel from the ancient Valyrian sword he kept in one of his many safehouses.  She sighed.  “I realized that it really belongs with you.”

“No, you realized no one would buy it.”

She shrugged, flicking the box towards him and he caught it one-handed, setting it down on a table behind him.  “Po-tay-toe, Po-tah-toh.”

“I’m not joining you again.”

Ire flared, her eyes darkening to indigo.  “I am no longer asking you nicely.”

“Funny was that what it was when you tried to kill me?”

Of course he would bring that up.  She waved her hand dismissively.  “It was an accident.”

Jon dragged the collar of his shirt down, pointing at a knife scar on his collarbone.  “That is not an accident!”

“Oh yeah, well you stole from me!”

Now it was his turn to shrug it off.  “That money needed to go to the Night’s Watch,” he mumbled, arms crossing over his chest.  

They squared off against each other.  This was not how she planned it to go, but nevertheless.  She narrowed her eyes on him, staring.  He stared back.  No one blinked.  Until they were at each other, grappling, tugging, and tearing at each other, mouths a frenzied clash of tongues and teeth.  She drew his tongue in between her lips to slide along hers, moaning into his mouth when his large hands slipped from her shoulders to cup the sides of her breasts, straining in their cashmere sweater cage.  She lifted herself against him, remembering every feel of him, every dent and ridge of muscle, every nervous quiver, and every bump and drag of scars.

He tore from her first, a hand tangled in her immaculate braids, fingers digging into the ridge of her skull, and another on her hip, holding her to him.  “The answer is still no,” he whispered.

Dany shook her head, whispering.  “You haven’t heard my proposition.”

“I’m out.”

“Even when I tell you the mark?”

He shook his head again, although she knew him.  She’d known him since they were teenagers, misfits and unwanted, trying to scrap by on their wits and wiles.  They had bled together, fought together, fucked and almost died together.  They’d gone to jail together.  She nibbled his lower lip again and he flinched, barely, but she felt it. He still wants to know. “No,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want it.”

She cocked her head, her fingers smoothing over his cheek, dropping to cover his heart with her palm.  Eyes steady, breath even, she smiled again.  “I need my second Jon.  I need my partner.”

They all wanted her to bring in someone else.  Even someone she might have worked with in the past, none of them matched to the trust she had with Jon Snow.  He was her equal, the one she could trust above all else, the one who knew her deepest and darkest fears and desires.  Jon Snow came from nothing like she had and built himself up.  He was the only one she would ever feel comfortable doing this job with.  

There was also the fact that she was still in love with him.

Trivial thing really, she lied to herself.

Whatever they said about him, she didn’t believe it.  He was out, he was done, he’d gone straight…all lies.  He was just like her.  They were wild, they could not be tamed, and he could never settle for a boring law-abiding life.  

The irony of Jon Snow was he was the most honorable criminal she had ever met.

“No.”

Now it was time for the final play.  Her other hand cupped his head and fingers twirled with his hair at the base of his neck.  “Even if I tell you that we’re going for the Targaryen crown and dragons?”

His dark eyes lifted to hers, his breath stilled.  He said nothing.  

Her tongue dabbed her upper lip, her pupils dilating wide, smile curving again.  “The crown and the eggs will all be in a single location, for the Conquering Day Celebration, and Tywin Lannister himself will be there, to give a speech, to commemorate the day.  Robert Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, and that little fucker Tyrion will all be in attendance.”  She brushed her nose over his, whispering.  “Can’t you feel it Jon?  That wolf inside your heart?  The one howling?  What does he want?”

She knew what it wanted, just like he did.  All she needed was for him to say it.  

Jon closed his eyes, shivering, and his arms tightened around her.  “Revenge,” he murmured.  He didn’t need to say it but draining the Lannisters of their stolen riches would also be a bonus.

“Exactly.”

He gazed down at her, lips dropping to hers again, and she knew it.  She knew before he even whispered the words to her, before he kissed her and before they decided to start talking terms.  

“When do we start?”

[thewritingstar]

Prompt list 5: some greens for the soft tender kissing please? 🥺 maybe they just finished fighting an awful monster or just got out of a rough sparring session and needed some affection to help ground each other again. Pretty please and thank you!! You’re the best!!

This is cute! Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Greens (Butch x Buttercup)

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No matter how old she was fighting monsters never got easier. Maybe the planning and how to fight them did. Blossoms leadership had grown over time and everyone’s skill had too. What didn’t change was the feeling of pain that rapidly spread through her body everyone she got hit or smacked down.

The feeling of her head rushing with to much blood and white noise playing had never ceased to get easier. You can prepare and say it will be a bloody battle, but the bone crushing blows and the scraping of the knees always caught her off guard.

The chemical X that jolted through her system and sent a rush through her was also unprepared. The sensation of a cool liquid almost exploding in her veins and organs felt weird as if she was feeling death being sucked out of her. Yeah, it never got easier.

The only thing that helped over time was the turning of age RowdyRuff Boys. During their middle school years, the boys, mostly Brick, had enough of dear old dads. Being bossed around and left for the aftermath of the puff fights had gotten old, especially when they began to realize that none of what they stole for their fathers ever showed up for keeping.

They rebelled in an odd way. Coming to the good side and practically fighting against their creators. It was weird when Brick had approached Blossom during the beginning of high school and nearly demanded that she allow them to join the team cause he was fed up with monkey brains. Princess cried saying she was never allowed to join and Blossom only rolled her eyes and agreed for the safety of the city and not because they were secretly making out behind closed doors and Brick wanted to impress his “flower”.

So they joined forces in high school, big deal. They grew as a team and possibly closer. It wasn’t long before the notorious leaders of both groups had hooked up and apparently Bubbles and Boomer had secretly been together since middle school, but for the green duo, it was another story. 

They were both alike, naturally as counterparts. Always picking fights and holding stupid grudges against each other. Even with two years of high school down and their teamwork with the city, they still never moved past the frenemies tier. 

And maybe it was because they were both afraid. Sure they teased each other and everyone was dying to see them get together but those strange warm feelings that kept them both up at night were shut down as the sun rose in the sky. It was easier to be friends, maybe they had become best friends at the start of junior year, sue them. 

And maybe, just maybe after a brutal fight on the battle field where they had flown to hid from the monster, Butch had wiped the dirt off her face. And maybe that sent a jolt of electricity to powerful to contain through them both as they began to lean forward. And maybe, maybe, they had kissed. 

And maybe that kiss broke through that barrier of fear she was holding onto. The tears she shed as she faced death one too many times had slipped away as his lips fell to hers. They should be focused on the wounds they had received from the wonderful monster fight but her mind was only on him. She never thought that he could be so delicate and tender as he careful cupped her cheek. The way his body pressed against hers felt so right and she swore that this explosion of fireworks was due to her hitting her head hard, not the breathtaking kiss she was currently involved in. No, the monster was at fault, but god his lips were so soft. 

By the end of winter break junior year, the green duo had completed the dating between the puffs and ruffs. 

So no, monster fights didn’t get easier, but the people you fought along side made it better.

--

And now here she was at age twenty two. In the middle of her college studies looking towards a degree in sports medicine and a teaching credential, she didn’t know either, don’t ask. But instead of her studying for her exam on Friday, she was up in the sky blasting laser beams and sending punches that could easily kill a person towards a giant ass monster. 

It was all yellow and fuzzy and Bubbles thought it looked like a baby duck, yeah know, before it spit poisonous acid out of its mouth and melted half a skyscraper. Gross. 

She kept hitting harder and harder, letting her muscles tense to the extreme as she fought alongside the others. She had lost sight of her boyfriend a while go, Brick had yelled at him to create a barrier of some sort and she was only focused on beating the living shit outta this thing. 

Its roar was loud as the sound rumbled the town but Bubbles sonic scream nearly caused an earthquake from the high pitch shatter of her vocal cords, p.s. you will never win a fight with her, she learned that the hard way when she was seven. She can still feel her eardrums ringing. 

As her fist collided again and again, she felt the dripping and burning sensation on her forearm as the acid fell from its mouth, Blossom sending the monster tumbling towards the ground. It stung like hell as the thick goop made her skin bubble and her eyes welded into tears because it was literal fucking acid. 

There was nothing she could do as it rushed through her skin. The chemical X fighting back as quickly but the pain was harsh. 

The whimper of her voice caught the attention of her leader and soon a nice layer of ice had coated the burns but left her skin bubbly and puffy as Blossom worked quickly. 

“Not suppose to put ice on burns.” Buttercup muttered but it was better than letting the acid reach her bones and take her whole arm off. Her sister smiled lightly and just patted her head. 

All she wanted to do was fly back to her dorm and study. 

“Wicked burn babe.” Butch flew up next to her and her eyes widened as she saw that half of his shirt had melted off and his chest showed the same sickly bubbling that her arm did. 

She just stared at the scars and even though the chemical x would cover it, it somehow made her feel worried. She had seen him in a worse state. Broken ribs, hips, arms, you name it and hes broken it. But in a matter of days, hes brand new. Still sucked. 

“Hey, hey.” He brought her into a hug. “Come on babe.” His voice was low and soothing. Buttercup only hugged him tight as she buried her face into his chest, avoiding the burned area. 

Her body felt heavy and her eyes even heavier and she assumed he had talked to their red leaders because the next time she opened her eyes they were in his own apartment. She was being carried bridal style. Usually she would complain about being treated like this but she had a massive headache and snuggled closer to her carrier. 

“Damn Butters I haven’t seen you like this since we got totally shitfaced during freshman spring break.” She felt the vibration of the laugh against her head and soon 

She picked her head up and looked at him through her lashes. “I want kisses.” She muttered and she felt his hold tighten on her as he brought her into his room.

He let out a low laugh before setting her on the bed and patting her head. “Easy Babe. Let me just wipe the dirt off and you can have me.” She mentally pouted as he went into the bathroom and she heard the faucet turn on.

She kicked off her shoes and peeled off her shirt that had become ruined but thankfully her tank top didn’t take as much damage.

He came back with a clean face and a wet rag before sitting on his knees and gently wiping it around her face to reveal the fair skin that was caked under dirt and dust.

Her head pressed into his palm and he swiped the rag around her mouth, purposefully making some of it go into her mouth which she scowled out.

“Maybe I don’t want those kisses any more.” She began to say but he only laughed before scooping her up so that he could lay on his bed with her against his chest.

“Fine.” Butch smirked but she rolled her eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

His hands traveled to the back of her thighs as he began to rub her skin that was most likely sore. She made a small noise against his lips as she rocked her hips and took his face in her hands, her thumb gliding gently along his jaw. 

“You should shave.” She kisses his lips again.

“I know.” He mumbled as one of his hands came to rest on her behind. “Kinda annoying right?” He laughed lightly and he loved the feeling of her kissing his cheek.

“Mmmm” she hummed with another peak to his face. “You just look better with a clean face. And maybe a few cuts and bruises.” She kissed the dark circle that was forming under his eye from when he got hit today.

Some people might think it’s weird but she really liked watching the skin expand and turn to deep shades of blue and purple before it quickly fades from chemical x taking care of it.

He leaned up causing her to lightly gasp before holding her against his chest and kissing her neck.

“But for me babe. I prefer to see you crystal clean. Don’t get me wrong you look hot as fuck with scratches and burns but I like to see you in prestige condition.” Butch bit her neck gently drawing out another noise from her lips.

“But you know what I like best?” He asked. And she shook her head as he kissed the bite mark. “I like the feeling of you after a battle. Scars or no scars. This soft feeling of your lips on mine and the way that you act so shy, really gets me going love.” She silenced him with another tender kiss.

She longed for these soft and quiet moments. The world would crumble around them and her focus would be on him as they laid peacefully. 

“I love you.” She said to him and she loved the way his expression soften and the ends of his lips turned up into a smile. 

“I love you too.” He kissed her temple before she felt her eyes flutter close and they fell asleep in a calm bliss. 

--

just something cute. Hope you enjoyed :)