#like trying to figure out what's inside a black hole from the movement of stars around it

[greatwyrmgold]

A few existential YouTube videos lead me down a rabbit hole of introspection.

I've always been interested in science, particularly stuff like astronomy and biology, particularly the bits about the history of life on Earth and how people work. You might note that the crushingly hollow void of space, the inconceivable depth of time, and the mechanics which make the human mind tick are arguably the three parts of science most prone to causing existential crises. And the way I internalized that stuff has definitely influenced how I interpret others' existential crises.

Let's back up. When I was a kid, I read a magazine article reporting on an experiment which indicated that the brain signals for deciding to do a thing came after the brain signals for making the body do it. It made the argument that what the brain is actually doing is rationalizing what it did, rather than thinking about what to do. This was framed as both something scientifically interesting and a challenge to free will.

To put the response I settled on into words: "Okay. But there is still something that triggered the neurons which caused the body-controlling brain signals. Free will and the self must reside in that something."

When confronted with existential crises, I learned to unconsciously work backwards from the conclusion I needed. Free will exists, the self exists, humanity matters, I matter. I just need to find the definitions that would allow those things to be true, and the existential crisis vanishes in a puff of logic.

All of this is second nature to me, but most people don't read old science books from their great-grandma's bookstore when they're in grade school. Most people have a firm sense of the world before they're faced with existential crises. Or at least, I assume that's what happens to most people, because most of the existential crises I see seem really weaksauce.

Like, take "the trouble with transporters," summarized in this CGP Grey video of the same name. A transporter doesn't move you, it destroys you and makes a copy of you somewhere else! Oh no! There are many variations on this theme, ranging all the way down to "Sleep is an interruption of consciousness, therefore you're arguably a new person every day". And my reaction to all of them is the same: "If the thing at the other end looks like you, acts like you, thinks like you, and thinks it is you...how the hell is is something else?"

To me, this is natural. Work backwards. There must be some continuity of identity, both through sleep and through the process of basically every cell and atom in your body being replaced. Ergo, identity must be something more fluid, found in abstract patterns rather than anything material. The same logic applies to transporters and teleporters, ergo there must not be an existential crisis there. If there was, then ordinary existence would induce existential crises, and that's an invalid result.

If challenged, I think I could defend this approach to philosophy. But that's not really my purpose here. I'm just trying to think about the way I think about stuff, force myself to clarify those thoughts, and then post them to justify that forcing. But hopefully you still find it interesting.

[dreamerstreamer]

Devil-May-Care

Pairing: demon!Dream / Clay x demon hunter!gn!reader

Summary: [Demon Hunter!AU] When you went in search of the most powerful demon known to mankind, you didn’t expect him to be so charming.

Warnings: a little horror + some violence + tw// weapons (crossbow, gun)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this was requested by a passionate anon! i fell in love with the request at first sight and had loads of fun writing this, although i did take some creative liberty with it. i hope you all enjoy :)

You huffed as you pushed past the branch hanging in your face, wrinkling your nose as you trudged onward. The forest was almost eerily silent around you, the pitch black night doing nothing to ease the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. Above you, the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly, peering down at you with wide, watching eyes.

Where could he possibly be hiding? you thought to yourself with a grimace. Is he even in this forest?

Your mentor had told you that this forest was the last place he’d ever been seen, and that it would be your best bet. But she also told you not to get your hopes too high, since he was known to be a trickster who never stayed in one spot for too long.

You sighed as you stepped over a fallen log, making sure not to trip. Despite how young the night was, you were already getting tired. Tracking was arguably the hardest part of your job, and easily your least favourite part of it.

Then again, no one said being a demon hunter was easy.

With a slight grumble, you squinted through the darkness while walking past another tree. So far, all you’d seen was tree after after tree, and you were getting fed up. Heck, you could have sworn there was a clearing just ahead of you here.

It was at that moment that the trees suddenly parted before you, and you found yourself standing in the middle of a clearing. The soft grass rustled beneath your feet as you took a tentative step forward, your ears perking up for any noise or movement. When nothing came, the muscles in your legs tensed.

This was the first clearing you had found in hours, and something about it just felt off.

“What are you looking for, little hunter?”

You whirled at the sound of the low, curling voice, your gaze frantically darting around the darkness for its source. You kept your lips pursed as your head whipped this way and that, nothing but silence filling the forest air. Even with the light of the moon, all you could make out between the shadows were the silhouettes of trees and their taunting branches looming over you.

There was no way it was who you thought it was... right?

“Not gonna say anything? Hm. Perhaps that’s just because you can’t see me. Here.”

You heard the snap of a finger, and the clearing around you suddenly lit up in a faint, greenish hue. Your eyes widened as the earth you stood upon began to glow, your fingers twitching at your side. Turning again, you quickly searched your surroundings once more for the voice’s owner. Everything seemed to be exactly how it appeared when you first arrived—the trees were just trees and the grass was just grass, even if they were both admittedly glowing.

Just then, there came a whistle from above you.

You lifted your head, and your gaze fell upon a figure sitting atop a tree branch a few feet away. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

Piercing, emerald eyes. A green fitted shirt to match. Dark, golden hair. A smattering of freckles. A cold, wicked grin.

The man smiled at you, swinging his legs leisurely as he tilted his head. “Hello there, pet.”

You didn’t wait another second before your arms were reaching up behind you, pulling your crossbow off your back. You slotted the arrow into the flight groove in near record time before aiming it up at him, aiming for but a split second before you pulled the trigger. In a flash, the arrow went flying through the night sky, pointed directly at his face. You could have sworn you caught his eyes turn red before he suddenly vanished, your arrow passing through empty space before pinning itself into the tree trunk he had been leaning against just seconds prior.

You panted, quickly pulling another arrow out of your quiver and reloading your crossbow as you turned in a circle, not a single detail going unnoticed by your watchful eyes. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to focus on the rustling leaves around you. Your fingers curled around the stock of your bow a fraction tighter, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Where is he? Where did he go?

A smooth voice curled around the back of your neck.

“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?”

Whipping around again, you pulled the trigger without even an ounce of hesitation. A twang of satisfaction shot through you as you heard the distinct sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a tumble to the ground. You rushed over at the sight of the man—or demon, as you should be calling him—lying sprawled on the ground, his arms casually tucked under his head as if he hadn’t just been shot.

“Ooh,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the arrow sticking out of his chest, “your arrows are made of dreamshade.” He grinned at you. “Smart one, aren’t you?”

Before you could even react, he ripped the arrow out, watching with amusement as crimson slowly dripped onto the front of his shirt. You stared at the hole in his chest, left behind by your arrow, a glimmer of glee expanding in your chest. Yes! you thought, your lips quirking as your hand floated toward the pistol hanging at your side. Now’s my cha—

All of a sudden, you watched in horror as the skin began to reform, the sinew and muscle stitching themselves back together to fill the gap. In an instant, his chest was whole again, the hole having disappeared entirely with nothing to even hint at its existence, were it not for the tear in his shirt.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, tossing the arrow behind his head with a flick of his fingers, “I’m tougher than most demons out there.”

In a flash, you were standing over him, one foot digging into his chest. You didn’t even give him the chance to blink before you were pointing your crossbow at him once more, this time just barely allowing the arrow tip to hover above his neck. You tried to calm your breaths, pushing back the sick sense of joy you could feel starting to boil over inside you. You were so, so close to just killing hi—

“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to attack me without even asking for my name?” he calmly drawled, looking bored out of his mind.

You blinked in surprise, your thoughts faltering for a moment before your expression hardened once more. “I know who you are.”

He cocked his head at you, something like delight swimming in his viridian eyes. “Do you, now?”

You gulped, hesitating only for a moment before you began to speak. “Y-You’re Dream. Lord of chaos. Progenitor of destruction. Harbinger of nightmares.” You nearly choked on your own words.

“The world’s most powerful demon.”

He grinned at you, clapping his hands together above his head as he let out a small hoot. “Aw, you know all my titles?” He winked. “That’s cute.”

Cute, your brain repeated dumbly, a fuzzy feeling forming in your chest, but you quickly shook the thought from your head with a scowl. You should not be happy that one of the most powerful demon’s known to mankind called you cute.

(Okay, well. Maybe you were a little happy. Not that you would ever admit it.)

With a stony look, your finger wrapped around the crossbow trigger, the cool metal sending a shiver down you spine. “I’m here to kill you, Dream.”

He didn’t look fazed. “Oh? Even though we only just met?”

A snarl ripped itself out of your throat, fury slowly beginning to claw up your insides. Why did he sound so calm? Didn’t he understand that he was about to die to your hand?

“That doesn’t matter,” you said bluntly, trying to ignore your heart ramming away at your ribcage. “You’re a monster that needs to be disposed of.”

He hummed, absentmindedly picking at his nail. “That’s bold of you to say.” His tone was dull and interested, and his eyes seemed to shine even brighter thanks the green glow surrounding his head. “I can’t remember the last time a demon hunter has ever been so upfront with me.”

The string tying your restraint together snapped. That was it. How could he be so nonchalant? So apathetic? Didn’t he care?

“You’ve killed so many people,” you spat, “taken so many innocent lives, and for what?” You narrowed your eyes, nothing but pure disgust running through your veins as you dug the tip of your crossbow into the soft flesh of his neck. “What reason do I have to stop myself from ending your life right here, right now?”

Below you, Dream only stared blankly at you, his eyebrows raised. Then, he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the stock of your crossbow. Panic shot through you as he pulled it away from his throat with ease, his fingers curling around the polished wood. “First of all,” he said lowly, “that little thing isn’t going to do anything.”

In a blink of an eye, you heard the snapping of metal and wood, your gaze going wide. He shot you a cocky grin. “Not anymore.”

You leapt back, gritting you teeth and tossing your now useless crossbow onto the earth beside you. Your hand moved in a blur as you reached down and pulled out your pistol from its holster, pointing it toward him. “Each and every one of these bullets is soaked in holy water,” you shouted, your hand cocking back the safety. “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

Dream rolled over onto his stomach, his grin widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “Tell me,” he drawled, tilting his head, “do you really think you scare me?”

You ignored the shaking of your fingers. “I—I can and will shoot you.”

He laughed, an uncomfortable warmth wrapping around your gut. “Please, darling—I’ve been alive for longer than you can even fathom. As if you’d be the first to pin me down, let alone try to shoot me.” His eyes flashed crimson, and you felt your stomach drop. “I know all your hunter tricks and tactics, and believe me when I say they won’t work.”

Suddenly, he floated up off the ground, not changing his position whatsoever. In only a matter of seconds, he was hovering above you, blinking down at your shocked expression with mirth glimmering in his scarlet gaze. 

Of course he could levitate—what were you expecting?

“Second,” he said, “I did a lot of those things a long time ago, especially in human years. How long has it been?” He tapped his chin. “Probably centuries by now, which is like forever for you guys.”

You scowled at him, your pistol still pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused any chaos recently.”

“That’s true!” he chirped, snapping his fingers. “But my more recent activities have been much more... tame in comparison to my golden years, don’t you think?”

As much as you wanted to shoot him right here and now, you also wanted to punch him in the face before you did. “Lives are lives, Dream!” you shouted. “Any more or less lost doesn’t make you any more redeemable.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, flipping onto his back as he continued to hover in the cool, night air. “Oh, you humans and your morality. How entertaining you all are.”

There was only one word running through your mind as you glared at him, your jaw clenching tight as your rage only multiplied inside you. Monster, monster, monster.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to drift a fraction lower toward you. “Well, I do believe I should ask—who’s to say that I was the one who killed those people, anyways?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “...what are you talking about?”

He peeked an eye open at you. “It’s not like I flew down from the sky and shot them all with a rifle, and it’s not like I just snapped my fingers and everyone dropped dead.” He hummed at the thought. “Just what kind of person do you take me for?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your toes curling in your boots. “Stop distracting me—you’re dodging the question.”

“On the contrary,” he shot back without missing a beat, “I’d argue that you’re dodging mine, pet.” You could hear the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat as he spoke. “Do you really think I was the one purely responsible for all that destruction?”

You tried to ignore the slight tremble of your hands. “A-Aren’t you?” you stammered out. “You’ve started wars, detonated massive bombs, pushed people to their absolute limits. That stuff’s all your fault.” You gulped. “...isn’t it?”

For a second, he simply stared at you. Then, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, how naïve you are, pet. Just what were you taught?” As he clutched his chest, he sunk a little lower toward you. “I didn’t fight on those battlefields. I didn’t press the red button. I didn’t kick men and women to the ground, pointing guns in their faces. But do you know who did?”

The cogs in your head began to turn as you wracked your mind over his words. Then, a wave of understanding slammed into you, and you lowered your pistol, your arm going limp at your side.

He couldn’t possibly mean...

“Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it.” His lips curled up into a delighted smirk. “Humanity did.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Oh, no.

The manic look in his eyes only grew. “Oh, yes.” He cackled at the look on your face, pointing at you. “I didn’t even have to lift a finger for you to all walk straight into your own demise! How pathetic is that?”

You took a shaky step back, your pistol dropping to the ground. “B-B—”

“B-B-B-But what?” he said mockingly, mimicking you in a high-pitched tone. “Did they tell you that I’m the big, bad wolf and that humanity is Little Red? Because they lied, pet. They lied to you.” He pointed his fingers together to form an X, tilting his head at you. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a liar. A trickster, perhaps. But a liar?” He narrowed his eyes. “Never.”

He bent down where he hovered in the air, waggling a finger in your face. “The truth is, darling, is that I didn’t do anything. I just stood in the room and watched. I might have pointed out that that one little duke was in perfect view, or that that one city only had so many people living in it, but I never took any lives myself.” He lightly tapped your nose, and you shrunk back as he crooned, “Humanity did all that, pet. They’re the real monsters to blame here.”

You wanted to sink to your knees and melt into a puddle on the ground. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Your mentor told you that Dream killed all those people—that he was the one to stab the knife in and twist it while pulling it out. She wouldn’t lie to you, never in a million years.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But there was something about the freckles scattered across Dream’s face and the way the moonlight bounced off his eyes that made you realize.

He was telling the truth.

A few moments passed in silence as you stared long and hard down at your feet. You could feel Dream’s gaze boring into your figure, eyeing you up and down as you struggled to steady the beating of your heart. You half-expected him to mock you even more, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Maybe he was more human than you thought.

“Why?” you finally whispered after god knows how long.

When you were met with silence, you raised your eyes to meet his once more. “Why did you do it?” you said, louder this time. “Why did you interact with us at all if you wouldn’t even get your own hands dirty? If you knew it would only end like this?”

His eyes flashed, the tiniest hint of carmine swirling in their murky depths. “Isn’t the answer obvious, pet?” He flashed you a wicked grin. “I was bored.”

You blinked, realization slowly setting in. “Bored? Bored?” You were about to lose it, now. “You did all that just because you were bored?”

He shrugged. “Sure did. Chaos makes the world so much more interesting, don’t you think? If only good things happened, you would be bored, too.”

Your stomach churned with disgust. “You’re twisted.”

His smile only widened. “At least I’m having fun.”

All you could do was stare at him in defeat. This wasn’t right. There were more ways to have fun than to toy with humanity’s psyche and drive them to end people’s lives, even for a demon like him. There had to be something you could do. For some inexplicable reason you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a part of you almost wanted to help him.

I must be losing my mind, you thought. What person in their right mind would try to save a demon, let alone the most powerful one of them all?

You, apparently.

The cogs in your head began to churn, your mind bustling as it tried to come up with some alternative, no matter how silly. There had to be something he could do that wasn’t just this.

That was when it hit you.

“Why,” you started slowly, your voice coming out shaky and unsure, “don’t you have fun in a way that doesn’t destroy things... but creates them?”

He blinked lazily at you. “Hm?”

You swallowed, raising your chin. “You—you can have chaos, but it doesn’t need to be destructive.”

He raised his brows. “It doesn’t?”

Your gaze hardened. “Not at all.”

Just then, a flash of memory shot through your skull, and you gasped. “Say, Dream,” you began, “do you—do you know how the Greeks thought the universe came to be?”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. “First,” you said, “there was chaos. And from chaos, life was born. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals.”

“And humans,” he added.

You nodded. “And humans—like me.” You pressed a hand to your chest. “See? Chaos can create things. It doesn’t have to be so full of death and terror.”

While his expression was bemused, there was something sad about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You do realize that that’s just a story that you human made up?” he hummed. “How the universe came to be is far more different.”

You blinked. “You were alive for that?”

He sent you a blank smile, the look in his eyes betraying nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.” Waving his hand, he flipped over onto his back, floating a fraction higher than before. “Point is, that kind of chaos probably doesn’t exist.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “But it could,” you whispered.

He paused, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What?”

You dug your heel into the ground, raising your voice. “It could! You don’t know that it doesn’t.” You took a step toward him, throwing your arms out. “Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that exciting? That there’s a whole other form of chaos you’ve never discovered before?!”

Your shout rang out into the quiet forest as Dream stared at you, his lips parted the tiniest bit. Rather than looking amused or arrogant, he almost looked... raw. Real. This might just the most vulnerable look you’d gotten of him all night.

Then, he burst into laughter.

Lowering your arms, you huffed at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth blossoming between your lungs as you took in his wheezing face. “W-What?”

“Oh,” he gasped between peals of laughter, “what a treat you are, pet.”

Heat flashed across your cheeks as he wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckles slowly dying down. His laugh should not sound as attractive as it was—he should not be as attractive as he was.

“Tell you what,” he said as he caught his breath once more, sending you a devilish grin. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my real one.”

You stared at him for a moment, then your jaw dropped. “What?”

He stared at you, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”

For a few seconds, you simply gaped, your brain still struggling to process his words. “But... but why?” you finally blurted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He hummed at you, flipping upside down. “What about it doesn’t make sense? It seems like a fair trade to me.”

Sputtering, you threw your hands into the air. “A demon’s true name is the source of their power! By handing it over to me, you’re basically putting your life in my hands—in a demon hunter’s hands.” Your face blanched at the mere thought. “A human name and demon name aren’t even remotely comparable.”

He blinked at you, slow and lazy. “I know.”

You didn’t understand—you couldn’t understand. “Then why are you doing this?”

He dipped his down toward you, his face hovering mere inches away from yours. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. “You’re interesting. And rather cute, I suppose.”

You back-pedaled, your eyes wide as you stammered, “I-I could kill you if you told me your real name.”

He hummed, tucking his hand under his chin. “Perhaps, I suppose.” His lips curled upward. “But you won’t.”

Your hand squeezed around nothing. “You don’t know that.”

He chuckled again, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Oh, yes I do, pet. Don’t act as though I can’t see right through you. I know you’re too wishy-washy to kill me off just like that.”

He tilted his head at you, his gaze brimming with mischief.  “That’s the thing about humans—you’re all so greedy. You all want something you don’t have, something that fuels you to acquire more. It might be power, or fame, or fortune, or love. It’s quite pathetic, really. But curiosity?”

Lowering himself, he pushed himself up until he was standing flat on the ground again, his hands sliding into his pockets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your mouth went dry. “Why, curiosity is your greatest flaw of all. You humans always want to know more, and I know that you want to know what I do next, whether you’re aware of it or not.”

You felt like your blood was going to tear right out of your veins. You hated how right he was, how well he seemed to know you. “You’re insane,” you said.

His smile was lazy and wide as he took a single step toward you. “Probably. But I’ve been alive for ages now, and you might be the most fun thing I’ve seen in millennia. I want to know your name, pet.”

This was crazy in every sense of the word. Any other demon wouldn’t even dare utter their true name aloud, even to themselves, yet here Dream was, bargaining his for yours.

You’d be an idiot not to tell him your name, now.

Swallowing, you didn’t dare look away from his piercing eyes. “It—my name is [Y/N].”

His lips parted in awe, and he stepped toward you once more. “[Y/N],” he repeated, slowly. Carefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Fascinating name. Haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime, shocking as it may be.” He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn his smile looked different. “It’s pretty.”

A rush of heat went shooting down your spine, your stomach doing a flip. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glared at him. “Well, stop dawdling! What’s your real name, Dream?”

For a long, excruciatingly slow minute, he only stared at you, scanning every inch of your face. You could feel anxiety begin to crawl up your throat as he did nothing more than watch the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

All of a sudden, he was standing in front of you, his hand tucked underneath your chin and lifting it upward. You barely had the chance to gasp before you felt a soft warmth pressing against your lips, light as a feather and tasting like ash and smoke.

Before you could even register what had just happened, he was gone.

You whirled, your face growing astronomically hot. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You raised your hand to touch your lips while your cheeks burned furiously.

Did he just... kiss me?

Just then, a whisper ran along the shell of your ear, so soft that you almost missed it.

“My name is Clay.”

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Camp North Star - June 9th

AFAB!Reader x Im Nayeon

Word Count: 2466

Contents: fingering, oral (both reader receiving)

You played with the flower that you’d picked between your fingers as dusk fell. It was a little cooler this evening and most of the other coaches were relaxing in their cabins or hanging out in the rec rooms. A week and a half had passed and soon the rest of the counsellors would be arriving. On top of that, there were still a number of things to do with Wonwoo; trying out all the canoes, mapping out the canoe trip routes, practicing rescues and teaching safety to the counselors. Lots of things should have been on your mind.

And yet, the only thing that was really coming back to you as you sat on your beach towel, staring out over the water of the lake as the last few rays of sunlight left the sky was the idea of a hoe summer. Of all the things you needed to do that was taking up your mental energy. It felt like too far out to really be a rebound or trying to fill some hole that he left, even if you weren’t 100% emotionally healed. But having some fun probably wouldn’t hurt. It could definitely boost your confidence after so much questioning yourself when he left.

There was still the matter of where or how to start. As much as everyone was joking about it you were pretty sure no one thought it was totally serious. If you asked would anyone actually say yes to messing around? What if you asked a bunch of people and they all said no? That might be a bit too big of a hit to your self esteem.

“Hey, there you are!”

You turned at the sound of Nayeon’s voice. She was strolling over the sand towards you, carrying her own big, fluffy beach towel. “I saw you out here earlier, I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m just… thinking I guess.”

Nayeon laid out her towel and sat down next to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You turned to look back out over the water.

“Ah, it’s nothing serious.” You tore the last few petals from the flower.

“You sure about that?” She asked softly.

You thought for a moment. “I’m… thinking about what you said.”

“Oh? About the hoe summer?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that.”

“You know you don’t have to do anything like that, right? It was j-”

“No I-” You stopped as a grin tugged at her lips. “Don’t give me that look.”

She leaned in closer,” You do wanna do it.”

“I just think it might be fun, that’s all,” you muttered.

“Aww my cute little slut,” she squealed, pinching your cheek.

“You can’t call me that and act like it’s cute!” You cried, trying to bat her hand away. Nayeon giggled and cooed at you, grabbing at your cheeks as you started to laugh, trying to squirm out of her grasp before falling back onto the towel. She caught herself, a hand on either side of you before crashing down on top of you as your giggles started to subside.

A smile tugged at Nayeon’s lips again as she gazed down at you, not showing any sign of sitting up. “Did you figure out how you’re going to kick it off?”

“I- I wasn’t sure if anyone was taking the idea seriously,” you said, trying to read her expression.

“I think a few of them are. And you have time to get into that too,” she hummed. “You really just need to figure out where to start.” Her smile was curling into a smirk as you brain caught up to her proposition. You turned the idea over in your mind, liking it more and more by the second, not that she hadn’t already planted the seed.

“It was your idea,” You hummed, gaze shifting to her lips.

“It was my idea,” she leaned a little closer.

“Not that you get to call dibs.”

“Of course not,” her voice dropped to a quiet murmur as her lips came closer before she shifted. Her lips landed on your jaw instead and she started to kiss slowly along your neck. You let out a quiet sigh as your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the feeling, your fingers threading into her hair. “But my offer stands.”

“I think I’ll take it,” your voice came out with a slight whine as she sucked at a sensitive spot on the base of your neck.

After a few moments her lips pulled away from your neck and she moved her face over yours, meeting your gaze as you opened your eyes. “I thought you might,” she hummed before her lips met yours. 

Her kisses were slow and deep, tongue pressing into your mouth easily. One on her hands started to slip down your side, tracing the line of your body. Your hand in her hair kept her close against you as she kissed you. Slowly she shifted her body over you, her legs finding a place between yours.

“Can I play with you right here?” She purred against your lips as her fingertips drew along the waist of your shorts. “There’s no one else outside.”

You threw a glance up towards the camp buildings. An inky blackness had settled around you once the sun had slipped past the horizon. Only a sliver of moon in the sky above, in some moments blocked out by clouds, gave any light to the beach where the two of you were laying. Your eyes met hers again in the dark and you gave her a smile mixed with excitement and nerves that she returned sweetly before leaning in for another kiss.

Her hand slipped past the waist of your shorts, moving slowly. She trailed her fingers over your panties first, feeling the way you pressed your hips up to her touch. You let out little sighs against her lips at the light sensation, pulling her ever so slightly closer by her hair and letting your legs fall just a bit further open.

Her fingertips played with the edge of your panties before slipping into them and your breath hitched. Nayeon pulled back enough to gaze down at you as her fingers drew soothing circles into your skin.

“Are you alright?” She hummed.

“Of course,” you said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re tense,” she said.

A nervous grin tugged at your lips as you tried to relax a little. “Ah, I haven’t done anything at all since… Well it’s just been a while.”

Nayeon leaned in until her lips were grazing over yours. “Then let me handle everything tonight.”

Her lips met yours in another kiss. She kept the movements of her fingers slow, letting you get used to the feeling of someone else touching you again. Little by little you let yourself relax, feeling her fingers slip lower and lower slowly. Your fingers curled more tightly into Nayeon’s hair, kissing her more deeply.

Your breath hitched as her fingers found your clit. She held them still for a moment, focusing on kissing you before moving them in slow circles. Light sighs left your lips, no louder than the sounds of bullfrogs and crickets around you, but Nayeon still seemed to hear.

You felt the smile tug at her lips as her fingers found a slow rhythm. Tendrils of pleasure started to curl through you, sparking from her slow ministrations on your sensitive bud. You pressed your hips up subtly into her hand, wanting more as you relaxed into her touch and gave yourself over to the pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” Her voice was already laced with surety.

“Of course,” you hummed.

Her lips fell away from yours, finding your neck instead. She started to leave messy kisses along your skin as her hand trailed lower. Your hips pressed into her hand, growing eager for more and she smiled against your skin as she pressed one finger inside you slowly.

A quiet moan fell from your lips as you let your eyes flutter open. Still heavily lidded but you could take in the stars twinkling above you in the inky sky. A cool breeze blew across your skin, finding its way under your back as you arched away from the towel. Nayeon’s fingers curled and thrust into you at a steady pace that quickly had the pleasure building in your core.

“You’re good at this,” you breathed quietly.

Her lips trailed closer to your ear. “You say that like it’s a surprise.” 

A laugh bubbled off your lips, morphing itself into a moan as she picked up her pace just a bit. 

“It shouldn’t be,” you moaned. “But fuck, this feels good.”

“I’m setting the standard high.” She hummed, slowly pressing a second finger into your core and drawing a moan from your lips. “I have to feel bad for whoever comes next.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, enjoying yourself far too much to think about who the next would even be. The pleasure was building steadily inside you as she moved her fingers faster, but easily finding just the spot that made you clench around her fingers and had your back arching subtly off the towel.

Her lips left kisses and light love bites on the sensitive parts of your neck and along your collarbone. Not enough pressure to mark but enough to draw quiet moans from your lips. You let her hand slip down her shoulder, scratching slightly at her skin as your gaze drifted between her and the twinkling sky above.

“Whoever’s next, you should give them some pointers,” you breathed, neediness evident in your voice as your body crept closer to it’s edge. Your hips were following the movement of her fingers, trying to draw more sensation from them as she teased the skin on your collarbone with her lips.

“Maybe,” she hummed. “But why don’t I set the bar even higher?”

You met her gaze, your own hazy as you processed what she was saying. The loss of her fingers inside you interrupted that thought and a whine came from your lips as she pulled her hand from your panties. You opened your mouth to protest but she shoved her wet fingers inside before you could.

“Good,” she hummed, a smirk pulled at her lips as you ran your tongue over her fingers. “Get them nice and clean. I have a different idea for how to finish this.”

You quirked an eyebrow at her as you sucked at her fingers. “It’s dark out here,” she said. “And everyone is inside. So why don’t we get just a little more risque?”

“What are you thinking?” you asked as she pulled her fingers from your mouth. She didn’t give you an immediate answer, instead her lips came to your neck, kissing as low as your shirt would allow before she shifted down the towel and curled her fingers into the waist of your shorts. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed before slapping a hand over your mouth and searching behind you, looking through the darkness to the camp buildings. Even Nayeon’s fingers froze in place, both of you watching. But when no movement happened and no one came towards the beach you both relaxed. 

Her fingers tugged at your shorts and after another quick glance at the camp you refocused your attention on her, lifting your hips and allowing her to pull off your shorts and panties. She discarded them on the towel before sliding her hands up your legs to your thighs and gently pressing them open.

“Now just sit back and enjoy,” she purred, settling between your legs. “And comes to terms with the fact that no one else is going to make you feel quite as good all summer.”

“I’ll try an-” your response fell off into a moan as she ran her tongue over your clit. Your hand slid into her hair again as she moved her tongue, trying different motions over your clit and watching each of your reactions.

Her skilled movements built the tension in your core much faster than her fingers could, the feeling heavenly. Your gaze drifted down to meet hers and you caught the smirk, evident in her gaze alone. Her fingertips curled into your thighs as she started to repeat the movements that drew the strongest reaction from you.

“Oh fuck,” your voice had climbed higher and far more breathy as the coil in your core curled tighter and tighter from the ministrations of her tongue. You bit down hard on your lower lip to keep your moans from growing too loud but the more you succumbed to pleasure the less you cared.

Nayeon pressed in closer, scratching her nails down your outer thighs lightly and adding to the sensation. Your back arched off the towel again as your hips ground against her face as much as she would allow. 

The moans falling off your lips were growing a bit louder with each passing moment but the pleasure wound tightly inside of you was the only thing on your mind as you curled your fingers tightly into Nayeon’s hair while she wrapped her lips around your clit, moaning against you while sucking it roughly.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Do that again. Fuck that feels good.”

Nayeon hummed, her tongue lapping over your clit in quick movements, pressing closer between your legs as they started to press in around her head. Your eyes drifted up to the stars above, a cool breeze tickling the hot skin of your face as you moaned.

Her lips wrapped around your clit again and she sucked harshly. Your eyes rolled back, blackness taking the place of the stars as you came, back arching off the ground and holding Nayeon’s head between your thighs. The sensation crashed over you in a wave that stole your breath and left you panting as the rush of pleasure washed through your body, leaving you trembling in its wake.

Nayeon pulled away from your core as you caught your breath, only for you to grab at her and pull her in for a kiss. She accepted, grinning against your lips but sounds of laughter in the distance interrupted you.

You both looked over at the rec hall, lights shutting off as a group of coaches left the building.

“It’s getting late,” Nayeon hummed, sitting up. She handed you your panties and shorts and you took them, frowning at her.

“Wait, but I didn’t- you-”

“I guess,” she hummed, grabbing her towel and getting to her feet. You scrambled after her. “You owe me one.” She threw you a smirk you could just make out in the dark. “You can return the favour later.”

A smile cracked across your face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

[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. 

[beann-e]

hi I was on u-tube and saw a bakugou playlist for when he can’t sleep and I thought well , since I just hit 200 followers ( tysm;3 I love everyone who even took the time out of their day to press follow ) why not bring them this idea of y/n not being able to sleep & bakubabe lending his beautifully different services

also abt the sero line I have in here— I personally think it’d be cool if he just learned Spanish because, he has an interest in other cultures and languages but I don’t really see him being actually hispanic

also I really like writing baku bc he’s so rough with everything he says & I kin him so he’s the easiest so, I hope no one thinks I write him too much

Reader with bad mental health & bakugou lends a hand in his own way

No one cares and no one ever asks. Or at least that’s how you felt while standing here in your last period class your hands balled up in fist tightly held at your chest

Your head was pounding and body was aching you couldn’t describe why you were feeling so horrible all of a sudden but

you just were

maybe it was from all the nights you couldn’t fall aleep due to overthinking

maybe it was the way you got stuck on your phone or even your head dropped low eyes trailing over words in a book just trying to find something to take your mind off the fact that you were struggling

whatever the case was

right now in this last period class this wasn’t helping

“ look shitty woman “ you heard the boy huff “ I want to get a good score on this paired project and right now your fucking this up for me “

his anger was visibly present even if his voice was low to where only you could hear the annoyance that sat in it had everyone looking around for the culprit of the sudden change in the air

“ and I don’t like fuckups so get whatever you have going on together and let’s do this —ok? “

you shook your head and let out a soft ‘ok ‘

the fight ending quickly with bakugou staring down on you his hands on his knees face made up in anger “ you keep finding a way to fuck with me “

“ I didn’t even do anything to you “ your voice was soft and tired

his eyes squinting before sighing

“ I didn’t do anything to anyone “

“ cut this shit out right now “ he pulled you up off the ground hands in fists gripping at your shirt standing you up with his muscles alone “ get to your room — sleep off whatever the fucks going on with you “

His eyes dead set on you as you walked off everyone from the class watching as you failed to gain the strength to open the big doors that led you to your shared dorms

“ sero plea— “

“ got it hermosa “

“ really dude “

“ look it’s hot — and just cause we’re in japan doesn’t mean I can’t show off my online spanish lessons “

“ whatever “ denkis voice whined as he shook his head holding the other door open for you “ gonna get some sleep y/n ? “

you ignored the two boys head hung low as you walked to your room door

the strength appearing in your body as you opened it but, quickly dispersing when you found your bed.

Your face hitting your favorite pillow hand coming up to cradle underneath it as you sat on your knees butt high in the air tears coming out pouring into your blankets “ I won’t show — I won’t show it — I won’t get bad again “ you repeated like a chant

The light from outside disappearing as the day grew into night

several footsteps heard departing from your door when you didn’t answer the knocks . Their low calls of dinner was done , lunch was in the microwave , that you’d missed movie time , that you missed denkis attempt of asking jirou out , and todorokis miss understood question of what ‘ cuddles ‘ were when denki offered her his body to do so

“ and you assholes didn’t just think to open the door? ”

your bedroom door swinging open in a crash as the knob hit the wall behind it creating a hole

“ fucking assholes bothering me with this shit “

“ we didn’t even call you out of your room “

“ you came over to her room on your ow— “

bakugous hand moved swiftly to slam the door in their faces

“ bakubro we’ve been trying to get in there all day and your just—“

“ gonna close the door on us “ denki finished in annoyance “ seriously I just know y/n needs my charm right now “

he pouted behind the door “ it always cheers her up and I like her lau— “

“ didn’t ask to hear your fucking crush story charger base “

“ ass — kiri let’s go “

“ so no sleepy boob pics?“

bakugou stiffened hearing the purples freaks voice

“ so I came with you guys because you said she was sad and usually when girls are sad they don’t dres— “

bakugous voice was guttural as he put his forehead to the door voice loud enough for the boy to hear

“ hey — hey purple nurple “

“ I-uh — yes bakugou “

“ come here “ he could hear the small shuffle of feet to the door as he smirked softly

“ put your tiny head to the door — actually press your whole body up to the door —all the way “

“ are you trying to help me get one of y/n’s bras god —- of all people to help I never thought it’d be bakugo—“

“ hey just shh ok — you don’t want to ruin it right and make her wake up right “ he groaned inside his mind

“ she’s slept this long and through all of this— I can’t get you her bra if your loud right purple zit “

“ so so smart “

“ ok so here it is “

the room grew silent as bakugou pressed his palm as low as he could placing it on the door away from his standing body breathing in to suppress his anger so , he didn’t let out a major blast due to his mood

sighing before he felt his hand grow sweaty tiny pops coming out

“ hey bakugou —is my princess ok ? sounds like popcorn in there are her tit—“

it was quick as the door had a hole in it the newly created circle having black burn scratches on it as mineta laid burnt on the floor once purple body now black and smoke wafting off it

Bakugou squatting as he put his left hand above the hole to steady himself and his right one reaching out through it as he grimaced in pain at the stretch his fingers finally wrapping around minetas short body fingers interlocking around his neck as he looked through the new hole in the door eyes piercing into the boy he held

his voice low and dominating “ you ever come back to her room on some creep shit — and I blow your fucking brains out do you hear me “

“ y-yes sir “ mineta let out dazed “ I will stick to yao-“

“ that goes for all the girls you hear me — guys included I know your a little pervy fuck you can’t get your hands on girls underwear you’ll move on to dekus shitty tidy whities”

mineta was silent as bakugou threw him back on the floor watching as he crawled off

his body relaxing as he shook his mind burning.

head in his hands before wiping his face in exhaustion and standing up and turning to you when he felt the air in the room shift , his hands out in jazz hands and a fake smile on his face.

“ ta da “ he was met with your sitting body your pillow covering him from seeing you .

your face dropping in shock moving from his tall figure that stood inching over to the now huge hole that he was trying to hide from you

“ k-katsuki “

“ I told you about that “

“ s-sorry “

“ again I told you about that shit “ his gaze was hard on you

“ do it again and i’ll tell shitty hair to harden in the next hug he gives you — since you and that crappy puppy boy are always touching “ he mumbled

“ bakugou why are you — why does my door have a hole in it “

“ don’t worry about it “

“ h- w-how can I not worry about it my doors black“ you screamed in confusion “ it used to be brown bakugou “

“ bakugou it used to be this — bakugou — katsuki oh my gosh i’m sorry — god do you ever shut the fuck up and just be thankful “ he mocked you soon converting back to his anger ridden voice

“ and whats with this pillow take it away from you — I wanna see your fucked up face “

you sighed bringing the pillow from in front of your head his eyes having a look run through them that you couldn’t figure out but you knew it had something to do with how puffy your eyes felt . Even if they weren’t puffy or couldn’t get puffy you’d never known for a fact because it still felt like they were .

You two stared at each other as the silence grew louder him shoving his hands in his pocket before taking out the packet of pills he’d gotten for you shaking them to show you it wasn’t a weapon like Mr.Aizawa thought after finding him returning to school late and shaking him down like a police officer

his hand putting them on your desk

His other one throwing the water he found in the kitchen to your bed “ not throwing you the pills — need you to move around so you gotta come get em‘ “

your face showed no emotion as he nodded understanding the new tense and uncomfortable emotions thats were present “ ... ok — well got a green headed vegetable to go bully so “

you watched as his hands gripped the door swinging it open as you dropped your head eyes moving to the water in front of you “ why can’t I do anything right “

you cried “ why can’t the world — the days — the stars fucking align for me to feel good for once huh “

you felt even more tears prickle your eyes as your voice grew louder “ why can’t I talk to people without having this voice in the back of my mind screaming — raging like its having a party — why can’t I sit in silence without having to stand up every five seconds and move around because my body screams for attention — for movement because i’ve been sitting still for 5 seconds “

you heard the faint click of the door mouth still moving as if he were still there

“ why can’t I speak what I feel when people ask me“ you laughed shortly “ not like they do — because they can’t tell I just mask so well “

you let your face start to feel heavy and tense as you continued your crying rant into the empty room “ and most importantly why was I so bad at everything “ your eyebrows furrowed

“ why am I so bad at today ? “

“ just a day really ? “ you heard the taller males voice came out questioning

“ just today that’s what your worried about “

“ well I “

“ tch “ he shook his head before turning to face away from you his face dropping into a look he didn’t want you to see.

“ I-i’m sor— “ you knew he didn’t like you saying sorry or even using his first name you two had established that when he finally accepted your friendship or in his words

‘ you can hang around —like shitty hair but one sniff of blabber mouth and your gone ‘

“ I didn’t mean to spill to you I just — I — you can go —no one gives a shit anyways “

“ I will “

your body grew sad at his quick response

“ tell me what your most upset about “

your answer came quick as you let your brain take over “ I wake up in the middle of the night and can never fall back asleep when I do “

he moved to your door for a second time opening it to leave before pausing for a second speaking something to where you couldn’t hear much less make out

“ just knock “

he shook his head before closing the door softly to rival his usual mood.

Your body shaking when you finally realized you’d spilled out your mental thoughts to bakugou letting your body calm down before you grabbed the pills and silently thanked your friend before feeling yourself at some time finally fall asleep

It’s been days since you last felt that horrible it never stopped but you were able to hide it even more and live out your life the happiest you could

until one night you found you beating yourself up surprisingly not in real life but in your dreams

a loud gasp leaving your mouth as you sat up calming down only to bring your knees to your chest arms wrapped around them in a hug

your back moving to the wall to feel comforted after only feeling your cold hands and body wrapped around yourself

“ what I would give to have something warm “

‘warm ‘

your mind raced to bakugou trying to push the thoughts out your mind of him actually being a caring boyfriend who could help you like he did nights ago with bringing you medicine, a boyfriend who would let you snuggle into him and take all his warmt—

stop the track cause that song will never play you thought as you started to think about him again face made up in determination and focus as you tried to remember what he said that night feeling stupid when you finally remembered your quirk

the quirk that brought you pain and contributed to your mental health

your quirk allowed you to take pictures of everyone’s last moments you’d spent together with your thoughts

it was good in some aspects like right now when you could finally remember where sato helped you hide your candy bars from yourself so you wouldn’t indulge in them 2weeks ago

at the same time you can see your problem with it when the last moment you had of your mother was her kissing you goodbye before shapeshifting into a fire extinguisher and landing in your fathers hands as he screamed at you to run out of your home and get more help the last image you seeing of your father was him spraying the fire extinguisher all over the stove in hopes to calm it down before it spread but he couldn’t

it didn’t help when the pictures replayed in your mind like video home movies that you didn’t want to watch

whenever your quirk was used everything spun in your head like a movie reel the downside was it made you watch every single picture you’d taken until you found the one you were looking for

it didn’t take long before you finished your mom and dads memory and got to bakugous last moment you two spent together

you zooming in reading his lips turning up the volume on the moment as he spoke “just knock “

“ just knock ? “ you sat confused in your spot on the bed shaking off your quirk taking as long as needed to process his words only to be even more confused and just knocking on the wall twice between your two shared dorm rooms.

You never paid much attention to him being your neighbor it’s not like you needed him for anything so right now you were a bit curious in why he reminded you that you two shared walls

Eyes closing while you waited for whatever was supposed to happen

“ guess he didn’t mean it like th—“

your body softened when you heard music fill his room and overflow into yours

You heard the drums kick in as the lyrics played muffled through your wall

‘I listened to the cure

I listened to the cure

I listened to the cure

and then I cried ‘

your eyes widened before you felt your body relax against the wall eyebrows made up in content

eyes watering when you heard your two soft knocks returned on the wall behind you

you let your body go tenseness leaving as the song played moving to grab your phone with shaky hands seeing his name light up on your screen

Godzilla wannab

‘ no one gives a shit about your life right ? ‘

you cried even harder when you saw the message fit the song perfectly the words you spoke a couple days ago as if your were singing the lyrics

you looked around your room before falling on the dent he left in your wall grabbing your phone and zooming in on it to take a picture and sending it to him

Godzilla wannab

sorry your room was just so ass you needed some redecorating be thankful people tend to cry when I redecorate—just ask deku

you laughed as you seen him prepare to send a new message your heart swelling when you read it

Godzilla wannab

look this is gonna sound sus as fuck but

you bit your lip at the new message

‘ if you can’t sleep come over — your rooms cold as fuck and I know that pillow your hugging’s not doing shit ‘

[muffindaddystyles]

Harry Styles x Barista!Reader.

Smut, pain kink and over-stimulation.

Mentions of past trauma and healing!

MASTERLIST, LETS TALK LOVIES!

Author's note: Your reblogs and appreciations means alot to me, token me a smile with your love.

His breath smells of strawberries and coffee, plushie lips dangerously close to her's making her half voracious gaze flicker between his lips and up at Tofu, kiss him kiss him you bloody fool, reeled in her head, "here lemme . . ." He notices her jitteriness fetching the birdy for her. She hiccups with a suck of breath when his knuckles brushed the inside of her palms while giving Tofu to her.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

OR

Y/N has a phobia for needles and Harry's her damsel in distress.

//

Something about bungalows not having stairs makes Y/N's cheeks puffs out in disappointing amazement. The fact she couldn't even climb at the rooftop when the summer sky's ornamented with cosmic stars twinkling with the each buzz of music from inside. She hiccups a giggle when the cool zephyr blew her frock away giving out a glimpse of her itty-bitties, glad no-one's in the diameter to have a show. The discernment falls to nothingness when she hears distinct rustle of someone behind the fat‐very-rooty-tree, it widens her eyes into saucers as she blinks comically.

It's not a squirrel she could tell. Couldn't be Ronny who went to take a wee cause all the darn washrooms inside were occupied and his bladder being the weakest, he went for a bush.

But, that bush's behind her and for a moment she forgot her friend even existed since she muted out his piss taking whistle a while ago.

All her frenzied assumptions fails when two figures camouflaged in the darkness tumbles from behind the tree. Her cheeks splashes with burning crimson when they separate with a loud, wet kissing noise and the two men doesn't seem any shy about it unlike Y/N who's foozling the frill of her dress as if she got caught in the middle of a fuck in public loo. Not that, it everrr happened with her, still she has an example set for such incidents.

"Oh, hi." The warble of unprevious voice wins in gaining her attention and she tries to squint through the pocosin of his eyes which glimmers under moonlight if she glances away too quick, she startles in her spot when a gruff voice speaks over them, "Ronny couldn't even occupy a shot of vodka in his bladder." She couldn't seem to flit her gaze away from his cherry of lips glistening from whatever activities they were having before (the only features she could see in such illumination) as the other guy and Ronny bantered off passing a cig in between them.

"Oi, shut up will ya." Ronny locks his arm with Y/N and she flinches that he hasn't even washed them yet, "c'mon truffles we don't wanna be here." He announces dragging her away and the humid air around them bubbled with chuckles.

"Huh." She quips all lost between the interaction and accidentally bumping into two beautiful men kissing eachother, she's totally jealous! Poor thing tries to jerk the mud from her toes and to have a last glimpse of the man with marble irirses.

"D'ya think I've a chance with that daddy-long- legs-one? Dunno, but he intimidates me so bad." Ronny whispers to her and she frowns sniffing with her already runny nose from being a bit tipsy, it's making her bouncy little by little and she knows the bevvys she had will have a full swing within the night, "why? He seems nice."

"His hotness truffles, it intimidates me." He scrapes his already chipped nail polish after washing his hands from the basin throwing towel at her face, she just sighs putting it back in the rack.

"How about you talk to him first." Parties has teeny perks of them and gigantic disadvantages 1) Ronny gets a school crush at every boy he looks at. 2) They get more sweaty, stinky, gluey and more wilder till the clock hits 4 am. Honestly, even if it wasn't for the free bevys she would have never stepped in.

"That's the hard part." They push people aside like stuffies getting cursed and groped in return.

"He's not gonna know himself, Ron, you dump-stick." Good she doesn't need to yell like before as the music has dimmed to a hum possibly about to shut down within minutes. Halting, beside some people crowded alongside the couch some sitting on it and their confused heads shots up at first at the sound of familiar vibrations.

The worst scenarios of someone having a bullet up in their hole and peeps around having a show passes for a mere sec in their heads, together, that's why they're friends since the first semester of UNI.

But, upon seeing what's the ruckus about Ronny shakes his head in utmost panic, "oh no . ." He tries to escape from her grip but she tugs him from collar, "Please Ronny, swear 'm ready to over come my fear! Nothing's gonna happen to me." They stand beside the guy sheepishly (like two elementary kids deciding who'll step inside the staff room first) a gun perched in his hand and Y/N realizes that he indeed's the same guy she met outside, this time she could see him properly and those hickorey of curls brushing the eternity of his popping clavicles.

His back to them but she could see the flex of his muscles from under the sheer black of his shirt with the each movement he does with his gun, she admits that he got prettier back than her.

"Ey Harry this's my friend Y/N and she wanna overcome her phobia of needles, be a damsel in distress pal." So, they know eachother. The whizz of gun stops midway and he dismisses the drunk dude under him tilting his chin to meet her eyes, and it was worth it as it took tiny gasp from her.

He's way beautiful than he was in the darkness.

Ronny was right. It daunts her a bit. The name Harry itself is some kind of royalty.

"Oh, hi there, again." He greets her with a warm smile and it glitter-glittery her insides, will you please not she scolds herself. It's probably the alchol her subconscious assures her but her nervousness from the idea of really doing this says otherwise.

"Have a seat, love." Oh holy goodness. He's as sober as judge and she at whole is miffed.

//

Harry isn't a popular senior. No. His charm's something that woos everyone and his name's always on the top list of invites, he avoids them though unless it's his closest friend. Him remaining to himself has casted a spell on everyone that his personality's intimidating and he's this sex god who has an only concern with fucking people.

He could be called a nerd from his grades everytime being higher than last semester but his attire and being a shining star of the Christmas tree gives it away.

Everyone likes him, ah-ah no everyone absolutely loves him. The thing's he has never felt the same in his twenty-one years of life and that's a fat bummer.

He just gives that "please stay away from me" aura, brows always sewn together and bottom lip jutted makes him appear rather passive aggressive to strangers (well the people who knows him loves him for being the most chill person walking around them).

Right now, he got a tat gun in his hand and everyone's getting a drunk tattoo for the remembrance of this stupid party or just that they've a kink for pain, possibly for humiliation too because what could a tattoo gotten in an unconscious state could bring you?

"Y'alright there?" He asks her and she bobs her head clamping her hands shut in her lap. The rainbow broch on his loafers intrigues her about his fashion senses, it makes her jealous she can't afford to have her own style, "Yeah!" She avoids to even give a spare glance to the gun in his hand because she knows the moment she'd, it will make her dizzy.

She feels bad for cliff hanging him to herself only but he doesn't seem to mind at all. Waits patiently for her to guard herself as Ronny pats her back like she's about to summo wrestle.

"Want me to start it?" He knows how bad it's for some people. Many times he had an encounter with weak hearted persons who got dragged into his parlour by their friends and ended up running away, "Can you give me a moment?" She lifts her head towards him and it makes his forehead knit into concerned lines.

The poor bug's giving a purple face as if she's about to throw up and her ears pink.

"Take all y'want, darlin'." His gentleness flows over her head, she thinks that the music has died or she has gone deaf, can't be neither, cause no-way that such a sweet call wouldn't make her toes all gooey.

"'M ready!" She puffs out a huge exhale moving her shaking wrist nearer to his grasp and he gives her a comforting look before wrapping his fingers one by one around her delicate wrist, skidding the stool he's been sitting on closer to her, "al'ight truffles 'ere we go — wouldn't hurt promise." He decides to stick with truffles since Ronny calls her with the nickname everytime he's at Harry's. Thought his blabbers of his friend were exaggerated coating of sugar but when she's sitting infront of him with those glinting eyes and soft flesh in which his lanky fingers seems to turn pudgy, he gets it why he calls her that.

He keeps on glancing up at her to see if she's okay — she has her hand placed atop Ronny's thigh while he distracts her with his "let's throw shade at mean bitches together" game and Harry just hovered the nib of it over her skin when she passed out but Ronny quickly placed his palm against her cheek to pull her back towards his shoulder.

"'M good . ." She comes back from it with a weak whsiper-y voice trying to straighten up but the instant her already blurry vision falls at the needle again making a line so small it isn't even visible she passes out again and this time Ronny seems unfazed talking to a girl beside him (trust the lad they've done it multiple times but the pain and fear of needles never let her have a single tattoo inked on her skin), leaving Harry to sweat over her.

Sighing he shuts down the machine putting it aside and presses the back of his hand against her forehead --- to be more appropriate, and when she remains as if in the land of nod completely knackered out and woolly in Ronny's arms he realizes that she has passed out for real.

"Truffles?" He doesn't get a response from her.

//

She puffers out her lips blowing raspberries gazing at the sunny sky from the clear glazed window of the shop, chin resting in the softness of her palm as the cosy hall of it emptied from the rush the time it striked noon. The start of her shift's always effete and warm with honey-bees buzzing over the pots of pastel flowers outside, but the evenings are most tiresome and she has to do the closing in a grumpy mood.

"Can you pass me the icing tube, forgot it under the counter shelf 'cos of that pain in ass customer." He's their regular. Has constant complaints that their tarts are too sugary and they need to thicken the formula for their lattes, Y/N just bobs her head at his tantrums finding a way to shoo him away with a promise of next time, "yeah uhh — " Gripping the edge of marble counter she squats down and giggles at herself as she looks funny with her knees making a tent of her ruffle frock.

The door-bell chimes indicating the presence of someone but she goes for her rampage knowing Cora's there to attend them and she was about to pull her head back when she hit it quite painfully against the upper shelf, "Ow!!" She squeaks rubbing the sore spot stabling herself while Cora chuckled taking the tube from her hand to go inside.

She never expected someone to occur at this hour, moreso, she never expected someone like him to pop out of nowhere at their shop. He just doesn't seem like a person to have a merry making at little cosy cafés all to himself, it's been driving her crazy, she cringes at herself everytime when the humiliation of passing out infront of him invades her thoughts.

Half of her heart wanted to see him again and other half was glad she never bumped in him — but seems like nature was evily against her.

"Oops hi!" When she couldn't fiddle with anything she adjusts her frilly apron and with her wrist brushes her loose tresses away which her bow failed to keep. He blinks for several times sipping in the consequence, though it gives her time to take in his appearance.

He's yet again, wearing a sheer shirt with white flower buds spiraling from his abs towards the broad of his chest displaying his inked skin underneath beautifully — it shimmers every time he shifts on his feet letting the sunlight fall on him. His curls tamed and silkier than before, he groomed himself too good it puts Y/N to shame for being a girl, a careless one.

"You work here?" He asks with a drawl as if he has a all the time to dedicate to her, "nope just broke in to do a fat robbery — wanna join?" He cackles, hard it quelled his tummy and it also made her smile blushy-ly that he didn't find her humour boring.

"Okie . . S' what you'll have?" Brassing the belly of his nose he clears his throat roaming his eyes to catch a perfect spot, "'s okay if'll be waitin' fo' someone there?" He points at the nook aligned with the fuchsia coloured book shelves, wooden pots hanging and embroidered throw pillows piled and some overflowing from the love seats.

"Totally!!" She chirps. The thought of him waiting for a date sinks summat a tiny globe of mud in her stomach and dunno why — She wishes she could've things that other people have without burning themselves in effort unlike her.

She watches him getting comfortable, scrutinising around with curious and adorable big peepers. He'd give her a shy smile everytime he'd catch her staring and she'd just shake her head treating her back to track, that he's on a date, but not with you.

She didn't forgot to ask him if he needs anything putting a glass of water at his coffee table without him requesting, it's perpetually hot and even her throat'd get dry after some minutes. He's been here for two hours and even though the weather cooled down spotting pearly drops of rain, perspiration still beaded at his forehead.

The bustle of on goers kept on dying and she feels bad for him, knowing the end of it, she's been there before many times. Even visualised it at this same shop far more she should thinking the world's kind enough to even let their date know with q single message.

Sensing his timorousness she paddles towards him getting a coconut cookie from the jar, onto the plate and sliding it in his line of vision. He seems flustered — everytime they've interacted she's the one to be not in one place and now he's ripping the threads of his tattered skinny jeans.

"You can munch on this cookie, if you want to!" He looks back and forth between the cookie and her, fuziness spreading in his chest glad at her kindness and enough trust in him to not to kick him out, "Thank you." He grabs it taking a bite and she giggles when in the single one he left no crumbs behind, his mouth's big, shut it already! and so pink so pulpy, oh my goodness I hate youuu!!

"'M sure your friend's on way, it's rainy, might —" He cuts her off with a dissapointed spurt of breath, "dunno." He sulks into sofa folding the corner of book's page.

"You still've an hour till the cáfe closes, don't loose hope!" She pats his shoulder and he gives her a weak smile doing that bunny scrunch of his nose, combing his already wrecked hair and thanks her for the next thousand time.

//

Harry had worst dates. This seems to top them. To be honest because of Y/N being here. What will she think? What if she thinks it's his fault? That he's a broken dummy who nobody wants to date? He wants to grumble and call his date to end things but he waits patiently as the sky turned lilacs of night.

Y/N feels remorseful and angry at the person who stood him up this pathetically. With a sad sigh she turns the closed sign to display outward silently looking at him while he's in his own trance, she disappears into the kitchen and Cora gives her a knowing eye.

"Not believing in love's my greatest descion up till far. It's impossibly hard out there." She retorts. Placing a hot chicken steak atop the alfredo pasta and sprinkles parsiman making it appetizing, "Tell him to better end things with a pig like them." She says in all seriousness handing the tray to Y/N.

He's there. Gazing outside with lips pressed into a thin line and he seems down with his loose errand of curls tucked into a man bun now, a perfect hairdo outta frustration "Harry." She keeps her voice low not to startle him gaining his attention.

"You didn't have to." He shakes his head and she made a noise un-recognized by him putting the tray on the table and moves the ottoman with her feet closer to him sitting on it, "let's be eachother's date for a day." She hands him a fork and he accepts gladly. His sulkiness wooshing away when she digs in taking a bite and smearing the sauce all over her lips.

"If you don't mind me asking, is it the same behind-the-tree guy?" He nods. She frowns spitting grumpily, "what a prat." With the help of knife she tears the steak equally sliding it to his side and he smiles boyishly sucking the corner of his lip inside.

"'M sorry, Harry." She squeezes his knee and it bundles up the air in his lungs, "'s okay truffles — glad you were there fo' a rescue."

"Y/N." She tells him forwarding her hand to shake and he slips his calloused ones to envelop her warmth. His cheeks turns pink when his stomach made noises of starvation, "you need to eat c'mon!" She nudges his elbow and he obliges.

After, filling their tummies satisfied and full she hands him a cuppa of latte with a foamy sleeping kitty floating over it she even made two eyes and the uwu kitty smile with the cocoa powder, "pardon me if it seems like I murdered the poor thing . . . 'm still learning from Cora." His giggles were absolutely amazed and gleeful.

"It looks so good, I don't feel like stirin' it." He pats the bum of steamed floffy kitty with the curve of his tea spoon and it makes her giggle some. Relishing onto strawberry pastries and crumpets oozed into butter, sipping onto their lattes, watching the sky turning dark with the rain while Cora left them hours ago to themselves.

She puts a velvet cloak around herself after closing the shop and Harry waits for her as she takes her bicycle, "Thank ye' Y/N. 'S kind of you." He stirs his gaze from his shoes to her face smiling brightly at her and she waves him off with blushy cheeks, they walk along under the shelters of sideways shops avoiding to get soaked while she holds the steering of her bicycle.

"You can lounge at my place, till the rain stops." When he shakes his head she quips turning into the street, "I insist." They stop infront of the old white sculptured building having two floors in total.

The first thing she does entering into her flat's greet Tofu (it's a Bush-tit a white furball with two curious tich button eyes) leaving Harry to get out of his shoes and slip into her house ones (they barely fits him -- making him chuckle at the size difference).

His eyes giving a beautiful glimmer under the glow of the yellow light as he looks around the space, it's simple, with a bedding on wooden floor, a circle shelf against the window lined up with green plants, a desk opposite to it and a golden standing cage of her pet bird.

"Hi bubba missed me much?" She opens the cage to let it out and the chonky white bird sits on her fingers happily, "Harry meet Tofu." His lips curve upward at the lil thing as he caress it's fluffy head.

"Tofu looks like a snowball." He muses with bambi eyes and she agrees with excitement, "Sometimes I wanna squish him, cause he's just too cute." His eyes widens comically laughing softly at her statement.

"Evil thought said out aloud with cuteness still remains evil, love." Tofu hoped over Harry's finger and he takes him towards his shoulder making it sit there but he has another plans, to rest his furry bum over Harry's head making both of them giggle, "c'mon now birdy time to fill your tummy." She tip-toes to catch him in her palms and knocks her nose with Harry's in the way.

His breath smells of strawberries and coffee, plushie lips dangerously close to her's making her half voracious gaze flicker between his lips and up at Tofu, kiss him kiss him you bloody fool, reeled in her head, "here lemme . . ." He notices her jitteriness fetching the birdy for her. She hiccups with a suck of breath when his knuckles brushed the inside of her palms while giving Tofu to her.

"Make yourself home!" She announces going to feed her pet and Harry flops onto her bed quite comfortably with his sweny legs stretched wide over the floor. They watched episodes of 'Bridgeton' wounded under her blankets and she almost fell asleep when he offered her genuinely.

"I'll help ye' have a tattoo, tiny atleast."

"Means alot to me." She yawns pondering with lug brain whether to snuggle into him or not, she did anyways. In the morning she was woken up by cold sheets and beeps of messages from Harry that made her feel she endured wings of fairy and she's bathing in the glitter of happiness.

//

She stares at the shop infront of her in amazement. It's friday night. She winded up all her assignments and came to this place exactly how it was mentioned in the address, when she enters inside spare teens and a bulky man was waiting outside the office thing-y . . .? Y/N presumes — an assistant chewing loudly on her gum talking onto phone with someone in hushed bratty tone and when Y/N knocks at the counter her piercing stare startles her a bit.

"Yes?" How rude! Y/N thinks with a pouty lip at her striking tone and she clears her throat, "'m here to meet . . . Harry." The snarky assistant rolls her eyes dismissing Y/N quickly to move back to her lazying, "He's busy." Y/N picks her finger to interject murmuring something under her breath and strolls back to wait with everyone.

Sun sets outside shimmering evening pink inside the lobby and the door atlast opens making her head perk up, "pet?" He looks sternly to his assistant but she doesn't seem fazed.

"Harry." Y/N grins, "Fo' how long you've been here?" She feels good someone's caring for her even though it's just for the fact she waited some hours for him, "doesn't matter can 've a tour?" He nods and the bratty assistant eyes him furiously taking Y/N's hand to lead her.

Harry watches her with dimply smile when she babbles at the details of his working station, "do I sit here?" She asks excitedly and he shakes his head, "yes, you may." They scrutinise through his sketches of designs together and she squeezes his wrist.

"Harry you're so talented! Look at 'em." He never felt this flustered with the compliments before button nose scrunching adorably. She chooses a a small plain jamsine flower nothing more, nothing less watching collect things for the process, "it's one of me mama's favourite." He exclaims rather proud snapping the latex gloves round his wrist.

"Where d'ya want it?"

"Where it hurts less." She replies wiping the sweat away with her frock, "it's outer shoulder, yer arm, calves and arse — " His mischievous grin awfully stretchy and she she slaps his bicep playfully.

"Outer shoulder?" She tells him confused to herself. He agrees strolling his stool near to her as she turns her back to him; his fingertips twitches when he pushes her hair to the side.

"Can you uh . . mm." She groans trying to reach for the zipper of her frock and he smoothes down his erratic heartbeat muttering, "yeah sure." She digs her nails into the delicate flesh of her palms when his calloused cold knuckles brushed deliberately against her skin while skimming the zip down slowly. Her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings when he slides her sleeve down her arm revealing her shoulder and it's so supple that Harry had to come back from his reverie; lick his lips to moisture.

He applies the numbing cream and she hisses softly the leather of seat sticking to her calves, her nerves jumbles and body startles when Harry starts the gun without warning her.

He loops his arm around her waist atop her thigh massaging it assuringly — sure it did nothing but to make her core throb insatiably as his rasp melted in her ears, "you're okay puppy." She gulps saying no word feeling her body getting hot at the each stroke of his thumb over her waist line.

"Ah -- Harry." She gasps out of air grasping his hand tightly at the sting of pain. She's baffled at the reactions of her body, her panties getting wet and the displeasing constant pricking of needle quenching out noises she never thought she was able to give out. When she whines and squirms Harry presses her down with force shushing her, "bug just a mo' it's smaller and would be done in seconds." She kisses her teeth bobbing her head vigorously and Harry chuckles at her effort remaining polite.

"Done!" He announces pulling away to admire it and when he hears the lil sniffles he quickly leaves everything sitting infront of her on the seat, "darlin' don't like it when ye' cry." He wipes her tears away not even glancing at her exposed collarbones and the plump flesh of her tits barely covered with her arm.

Soft and squishy, soft and squishy, soft and squishyyyyy.

His mind screams but her whimpery voice distracts him, "'m just gleeful that I've a tattoo because of you." He wraps it up expertly and zips her dress back with ever gentleness, "happy tears then?" She giggles with a grateful nod.

"Want a hug?" He thinks she deserves one for being brave and nice against her fear, "cuddle me up." She murmurs with swollen eyes and peachy cheeks. Uff — it stirs his cock in his jeans arousing the need to be with her everytime.

He rests his chin mushily into the crook of her neck swarming his arms around her waist to squeeze her warmly and she snuggles against his throat, damp lips puckering against his adam apple making it bob.

He feels jammy to be able to have a moment like this with her.

"Chinese takeout?" He collects his sketch journals, his phone, fedora apparently, keys of his motorbike and a spare helmet for her, "Yes please!"

//

They ate the take out perched against his bike with the meadow vast laying feet aways from them, under the breezy sky they conversed and Harry already got a tender spot for her in his heart. He never reaches to a stage where he could get to know someone with this passion and Y/N isn't from someone who'd guard herself from him just because his father was in the bad business.

As the evening brisked with cool dew of summer grass Harry leaned into her more and more.

He finds her little things infatuating, her bonding with Tofu and her dire wish to make good bum steamed kitties on the lattes, she has an irrefutable love for floral dresses and her homely habbit is doing ribbon work.

She got to know that Harry owns the tattoo shop, teaches few blokes the skill of it in free hours. He'ad attended lots of parties raving ones and the boring ones of higher socials, never lets any stranger step inside his loft which's situated upstairs of his shop. His father does all the criminaly things, he's this master mind in doing the evil things for people from getting money out of their enemies yada yada and Harry despises him for it, moreso, that he left them. He doesn't want to be associated with him in any case — he's none like him, he's kind and soft-hearted like his mother.

Y/N loves his goofy side. The one that cracks jokes and puns -- makes her fall in love with him without her even trying.

Last and foremost he has the render love for sheer shirts — told her he has shimmery ones for the fancying off.

"S'm no stranger then." She quips beside his shoulder as Harry unlocked his home's door. He glances her timidly amicably hovering over her lips, "absolutely not, yeh me bezzy." He raises his fist and she bumps it giggling.

//

Y/N that night sleeping on his bed dreamt of them laying together into the pillows of growing daffodils of meadow, lining up the stars in the sky and tell each other what they made ----- galloping rabbit, a slipping cake and she'd laugh with ugly snorts when Harry tells her that he sees a massive dick.

His grin proud and mellow to make his bezzy laugh. She squeaks when he pulls her onto him but soon her dreamboat sinks as she stirs at the warmth swallowing her whole.

She startes from her blurrines at something trapping her down till she recognizes the familiarity of two mascular arms sewn around her waist and what the fuck?

Harry made a makeshift pallet on the floor and right now she's all over him, pressed tightly against his chest — her cheeks turns red with embarrassment from being this clumsy and falling over him in her sleep.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

Taking her face out of his neck she admires the softness of his features when he's asleep and the dotting of beautiful moles, sighing a huge relaxed puff of breath and canoodles into him like an affection starved kitty.

//

It's another cool rainy day and Y/N keeps on swabbing the droplets of water off from her eyes with her elbow trying to paddle her bicycle. She was on her way to Harry's when the skies betrayed her. Standing on his doormat she soaks it completely waiting for him to answer the door, sad, that her gift was ruined too.

"Lovin' ye'll catch a cold – shit come inside." Concerned he ushers her inside his loft, halts in his tracks when she remains behind adoring a gruffy pout, "what is it?" He asks walking to her and cups her cheeks the instant.

"Embroidered ye' a shirt 's destroyed now." She raises it to show him and he stares it for good seconds before swiping her off the floor – hugging her to radiate the sentiment of endearment he carries for her in his heart. It bloats her cheeks pressed against his clavicles and her feet dangles as he sways them with a happy noise of favourite melody she's unfamiliar with, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He kisses her temple and it lingers at the tip of his tongue.

I could kiss you right fuckin' now, pet.

"Harry you got wet too, dummy!!"

"Oops, guess we both have to change now."

Harry already set mixers for her on the luke points so that she wouldn't have to pull out her hair just to take a shower (his shower's quite complicated) leaves his shirt and boxers for her on his bedside, putting the lilac sheer shirt she embroidered for him in the dryer.

When she comes outside with trippy hair he already has two glasses of wine filled and windows closed to keep her warm.

She isn't a wine person. She was never able to afford it and it never settled with her tummy (she shares too much and feels bubbly with the rose coloured bevvy). Harry's gaze rakes from floor to her ankles snapping directly to her face and it's just snoggles his heart with fondness, seeing her drooled in one of his shirts.

"Need ya not to worry ye'r gift is good as before." He assures her and she flops onto the sofa beside him, "Thank you Y/N." He says genuinely and she waves him with small smile, "hush you."

They drink in silence, then soon it rośed their cheeks and noses making them giggly and floaty. A bottle gone in just a span of a time. She rumbles her lips stretching out, the twinkle of her belly showing and he does the same, eyeing him she slides down on the floor perching her elbow over the coffee table and YET AGAIN HE FOLLLOWS HER ACTIONS.

"Are you mimicking me?" She squints at him and he squints back, "are ye' mimickin' meh?" She smacks his bicep playfully and when he does the same though the force of it lighter than her's adoring mischievous grin making her squeal with chuckles, "Harry!"

He quips back in equal girlish pitch, "Harry!" blinking peepers up at her softly — to test her fates, the recipe of her drunken state and her heart bursting with affection for him she jests at him.

"I like you and might be falling in love with you." She says without holding back a breath and his eyes widen in an animated way chin slipping from his palm, "You what?" He's in utter shock. He has never come across the words she just said with so much delicacy and sincerity — it boggles him to an extent his tongue got tied.

"Say it back now, huh?" She smirks at him shaking from inside counting on to get rejected and ridiculed. Upset at herself more than him at his lack of response, clearing her throat she whispers.

"So — " But, her apology strucks in her throat when he pulls her to himslef with a gentle grip to her elbow. Grabs her jaw tenderly and with the ardent boldness smushes his lips against her's to seal his affinity for her in a kiss that's so soft it melts her inside. His hands brews at her sides and glides up to their destination, to cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss while billowing her in his lap comfortably. He devours the plumness of her lips, tracing the curve of her bottom one with his warm tongue and kisses the corner of her lips again and again making her puff out air from her nostrils.

He has kissed people and it was always to lead something to satisfy the cavity of loneliness, but this, this already feels like home sitting infront of the Autunm fire eating cookies and drinking milk. She feels like the mold he's meant to melt into and explore every ridge of it.

She doesn't not know what's filthier the string of spit that's connecting them or his raspberry lips that she could kiss and kiss for forever, he doesn't stop there pecks her several times with lil smooches, "You're really good at it." She winds her arms tight around the nape of his neck murmuring against him (she wants to make him feel appreciated), his cock chubbing up in his trousers and it lulls her head against his cheek upon feeling it. The thought of having him hard for her boasts the genitilty in herself and she kisses his smiling mouth.

"Wanna make ye' feel good." He presses his lips back against her's with more passion than before and tips her chin with his thumb to stamp lil pecks down her throat feeling his lips tingling to kiss her again, it's way better than he envisioned. Her softness could swallow him and the thought makes his hips stutter imagining his hard prick sucked inside her swelled up walls. His large calloused hands meander down her bottom taking the ripeness of it in a bunch of squeeze.

"On the bed." He pats her bum pinching it playfully and she squeaks obliging him giggles when she bounces over the bed. Him crawling behind her as lion ready to feast over a hare.

Leaning against the head of the bed he lays her between his wide spread legs, her back against his chest and their fronts facing the tall framed mirror infront of them.

"Comfy?" She bobs her head gulping cause no one has ever cared what'll be consuming for her and what not, "I want ye' to look in the mirror sweet girl, at us." He rasps in her ear stroking the hilt of her jaw in continuous circles and when she hums fluttering her eyelids, arching her back at the throb of her pussy and his dirtiness making her slick down to her bum he glides his thumb inside her mouth telling her to, "get 'em proper wet for me." She does coating his thumb with her saliva and flicking her tongue over it many time while he glazes his palms over her ribs, under the crescent of her tits shirt pulled to her collarbones.

She gags around his digit when he took her perky nipple in between his middle and index pulling it then kneads it with a kiss to her earlobe getting her out of his boxers telling her, "enough, pet." When she doesn't listen to him and kept on sucking thinking of his cock in her mouth he gruffs splitting her thighs apart and pressing the soles of her feet tightly against the mattress with his own ankles, "I said enough." Shushing her hungry kitten whimpers he trails his wet thumb down her fallen lip and chin, popping her shirt open and rims it around her areola, "s' soft wanna rub me cock between 'em tits." The shiver that hits her makes her squirm and Harry gives a chaste kiss to her open mouth putting his thumb at her entrance ready to play with her cunt.

"Your eyes open 'em fo' me, puppy." He ducks down to kiss her not letting her turn around himself so that her neck doesn't strain while caressing his fingers up and down in her slickness making soapy noises on purpose, when she finally looks in the mirror locking eyes with him as if he's holding the most precious gem in his arms — the sight turned her spine into a sharp arrow, "c - ca-can I've more?" She gasps squeezing his bicep pussy lips fluttering and her hole palpitates aching for him.

"My polite girl." He smiles awfully fonded at her and she nods licking her lips to speak, "'m good, good always." He pushes his two fingers inside her cunt and she moans with her whole will trying to sink herself to his knuckles nails digging into his shoulders, "I know ye'r." He assures her sliding them out and teasing her little pink asshole turning her into a whining mess.

She twitches around his fingers when he pumps them back along with her sticky wetness and fucks her with them, flickering her clit with his other hand and kneads the inside of her fleshy thigh. She gives out a gaspy moan of unbearable pleasure when his cock's stiffeness rubs between her asscheeks, "ye' feel it? S' fo' you, gonna stuff yeh full of me cock, fuck you nice n' warm and cum all over yer pussy. How you deserved to be fucked, is that okay?" She never expected him this much of a lewd talker — hell she didn't even expected him to step out of his conserved, rather shy demeanour, "yes, yes, yes." She visioned him as a curt dom, who's more into BDSM but he's warm and caring with her. Just in few second of them doing it he proved it how much he's loving to please her.

"Ah! 'm gonna cum . . . gonna —" His sweet vulgar words combined with him toying, rubbing and fingereing her already swollen pussy tips her to the edge she was desiring to get from him, "cum all over me fingers. Want it s' bad from ye darlin', to see you." He says in a tone that's on the verge of pleading but holds a commanding hint under it and with her bones all stiffing, her skin burning and heart buzzing she snaps into her own dreamy world gushing over his fingers with her juices.

"Oh . . Harry." She loudly mewls thrashing in his arms from the intensity of her orgasm and he holds her tight with his arms wrapped around her torso, kisses to the curve of her neck and exposed collarbones. He notices her stiring away from his hand due to sensitivity and takes out his fingers with a squelching popping noise that made her blink from her semblance. Her chest heaves as she watches him in the mirror licking her cum off his wrists with the tip of his pink tongue, "mhm tastes s' sweet." One by one he sucks his finger humming around them seductively spiking her insides yearing to be fucked by him, "just like you sweet puppy."

Gently laying her down he knees infront of her getting out of his flimsy shirt and Y/N admires the flounce of tattoos trailing from his pecks down his adorable love handles. Her gaze stops at the his happy trail leading down to where he's swelled up against his zipper and she hasn't seen someone so beautiful in her entire life, he shimmies his joggers down teasingly with a smirk and she whines hiccuping when his cock slaps against his lower abdomen making her eyes go wide.

"Oh my . . " She gasps at the gorgeous sight of his rock-hard cock between his supple thighs. He's beautifully big, satiny and a dot of shade lighter than his lips making his prick so kissable, would it even fit?? She could already imagine it stretching her out gracefully and stimulating her in ways her fingers could never, "you're so gorgeous button."

The shiny swollen tip, and the dollop of pre-come weeping down his slit alluring her to have him in her mouth but he strokes it not to waste it.

"What's the pout fo' darlin'?" He asks as she stares it making him all shy but he overcomes it persistent to make her feel good (she shared with him that she never knew what being cared feels like) he wanna gives her all lovin' as she did to him the day in cafe. Cups the nape of her neck to bring her for another kiss splitting his thumb into her hair and the moment is so vulnerable and saccharine as he snogs her to floatiness, "will make sure it fits — make you cum many times, baby." He flips her gently.

"On ye tummy fo' me, like an atta pup ye're." It knots her stomach into ropes and she jolts squealing softly into pillows when he smacked her peach watching it jiggle while tugging at his prick to coat it with his thick wetness.

He moans biting his lower lip lulling his head over his shoulders stroking the head of his cock between her asscheeks and round her entrance not pushing at once torching both of them, "you're so delicate wanna be slow with you." He whispers to her pressing his front against her shoulders while wrapping his hand around his shaft to push inside her.

"It's okay!" Her tiny squeaks rolls into a moan when the head of his cock settles inside her and when she twitches around it he cruffs a groan coaxing her sides, "shhh baby 's okay relax fo'me." Taking his hand away from around himself he places it atop her ass withdrawing and looking down to see her cunt glistening with his and her's wetness — then bottoming out deep inside her till his balls are snug against her bum. His stomach twists with pleasure at the warmth that blankets his cock completely making him hunch but he recoups with his arms pressed beside her temple.

The stretch that burns through her core's so pleasing and fulfilling. It hurts in a good way. She knows how patient and composed he's being for her, from the way he fattens tucked inside her walls and he slides his hand between her front and the sheets to caress her soft breasts moving with rough pace.

"Don't stop, please." She recites the mantra almost crushing his fingers with her grip around, it's alot, the constant rub of sheet against her clit and him driving inside her from behind with moans sexier than in erotic audio books. He draws loose circles over her mound making her thighs spread wider with the inability to hold them as he pinched her clit coercion her sensitive button, "oh my god . ." With the whimpers of his name she squirts around his cock and it makes her throw her hips at him.

When he pulls out to turn her on back she whines with a frown, heaving chest and coral cheeks looking totally fucked already, "wanna see ye'r face when you come . . . s' beautiful." He hisses hauling her legs around his waist lowering himself down to enter her with lil smooches to her cheeks, "cum again fo' me baby — yeah just like that squeeze on meh." He pounds her over and over grinding his pelvis against her's to stimulate her in every way.

Feeling the heat crackling in her bones and tummy she takes him by shoulders to cuddle him closer to her chest raising her hips to meet his's, a crying mess, with glossiness twinkling at the corners of her eyes as she comes with euphoria dawning upon her and Harry works her up again.

"Once more, love, i know you've one more fo' me." He gives out a purry groan biting her throat and the valley of her chest, snuggling against it with kisses — when she shakes her head through around him he lines up his nose against her nose petal–ling his lips over her's, "yes you could puppy my sweet — " His eyelids bolting shut at the built of up of his own release and the moment she cums with his cock now he shoots his thick spurt deep inside her.

"This's what it only took fo' you? Callin' ye mere sweet names." He fucks her through it and Y/N admits that he went with his promise --- fucked her like she had never before, they remain like that for some time catching their breaths and then he pulls out of her gently and pumps himself to empty his load shooting it over her pussy and abdomen, "you came so much." She says completely baffled and he steals a chaste kiss from her looking at the white ribbons sticking to her skin.

"Just for you, babyhun."

He tells her not to move and whisks away coming back with a pack of baby wipes. Her hearts swirls with so much fondness for him when he pats the wipes between his palms to get them less cold and shushes her with pecks when she hisses with sensitivity.

They take another shower, this time together and it's not sexual at all though alot of tired poofy kisses and cute yawns were included as they gave eachother shampoo massages and she'd cooe everytime untangling his long hickorey curl.

They changed the sheets (unapologetically very clumsily) and he fetches a glass of water for her making it drink her.

When they were cuddled awfully good he lifts his head up from it was nuzzled between her titties. His accent drawly and slippery from tiredness, "Y/N." He checks if she's asleep and she hums in response starting to play with his hair lazily.

"That day when me date didn't show up?" Witha half heart she hums again, she doesn't like to talk bout that day, because the hopelessness that conquered him that evening still makes her sad.

"I was glad ye' were there 'n 'm so so so thankful that he didn't show up. Else we wouldn't be here in eachother's embrace 'n me heart still'd been mournful to sleep in cold sheets waiting fo' me person." It's the most he has talked in his soberness. It wells up tears in both of their eyes.

"You're my person." She cradles his face hating it that he was kept so love starved his entire life and she gazes him dearly, sweetly, affectionately all the words that could describe love for someone spilling out of the chambers of heart.

"I want to love you so much, pet, make you me most treasured human hershey."

"I'm in, cuddle me up." He grins smauching a loud kiss to her lips and cosying back to his previous spot purring like a kitten thrown into heaps of fluffy blankets.

[anninhiliation]

Office Visit

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Sex. A little filthy. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Disclaimer:  THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL WRITING. You do not have the right or consent to copy my work and claim it as your own. You do not have the right to even copy my work. I can and will publicly shame you. Changing the boy is still plagiarism. Write your own work. Don’t test me or karma. Don’t be a useless leech.

Word Count: 1899

Locked in his office all day made you a little bored and very needy. You knew he had a big case in only two days with a client who was more than guilty and a judge who very much hated Chris. He was dealt a bad hand with the public charging his client as guilty before the trial even began. To top things off, the media had a frenzy with the case, following it every step of the way. All eyes would be on Chris, watching how he would play this out. Only adding to his stress, knowing how easily this one trial could easily ruin his career. As the sun officially set, you figured it was time for him to call it a day. He could easily work through the night and up until the case with very little breaks in-between. You know that Chris used to do it in law school and could easily still do it. Thus, it was up to you to make sure he gave himself a nice long break.

“Papi need some help?” you asked as you opened the doors to Chris’s office.

 He was reading some papers on his brown leather armchair, biting his lower lip deep in concentration and drinking whiskey. Hearing his office doors open had him looking up from the case file. It was clear by the dark circles under his eyes and his general body language that he was stressed, and completely drained.

 “¿Quieres ayudar hermosa?” He raised his eyebrow as he placed the papers down on the small side table. 

 Shifting in his seat, his back melting into the leather as he left out a low sigh. His legs widened a bit as his muscles relaxed.

 "Siempre," you grinned, shutting the wooden doors behind you.

 Taking a sip of whiskey, his brown eyes glued to your every move. Tracing every curve from your leggings, up to your breasts slightly bouncing with every step. His tattooed arms rested on the arm rest still holding the glass of whiskey as he waited for your touch.

 “You’ve been working all day” sighing, you got down on your knees and undid his neatly tucked in button up exposing his lower stomach.

 His breathing tightened as he felt your warm fingertips on his freshly exposed skin. One of your hands held his hardening member, palming it.

 “Well, nena you know about the case,” he groaned lacing his fingers through your hair.

 Chunks of hair intertwined around his fingers as he gave you a gentle tug. You weren’t here to tease or waste time. Looking up at his lust filled eyes you undid his leather belt and unzipped his pants.

 “You’ve been on the case all day papi” you pouted as you pulled down the elastic band to his black briefs exposing his still hardening member.

 Holding his shaft, you began to rub at an even pace as you circled his tip with your tongue. The warm wetness of your mouth had Chris letting out a low soft moan as his white salty liquid drained out. You let out a content moan feeling him on your tastebuds.

 “Carajo” he mumbled as you took more of him in, moving your hand down to make room.

 Bobbing your head at a steady pace you slowly took more of him in. Your jaw slowly relaxed with every stroke allowing you to swallow more of him in. His head rolled back as a low moan echoed down your spine. You moaned out contently feeling your bud begin to pulsate. Watching Chris clearly enjoy what you were doing to him was a turn on for you. How his face contoured in pleasure, how he tugged your hair every time you swallowed around his shaft. Chris was floating in the clouds with your every movement.

 “Just like that nena” he encouraged

 Moving your hand away and resting it on his upper thigh, you fully relaxed your throat to take more and more of him in. With only about an inch of him exposed, tears streamed down your face. The air in your lungs constricted with you gagging around him. A deep moan echoed through the room, vibrations ending right at your core.

 “Fuck nena- ah” he encouraged tugging your hair tighter as he began to slowly move his hips a bit.

 It reached a moment where you needed air, you needed a moment to collect yourself. Pulling him out panting, you massaged his shaft and toyed with the strands of spit leaving your mouth. Makeup smeared, chin and lips covered in spit, and you trying to catch your breath had Chris ready to just hit his orgasm right there and then. Still maintaining eye contact with him you went to go toy with his foreskin.

 “Fuck” he whispered.

  Gently tugging at the sensitive skin for a bit, you pushed his shaft back to work on his balls. As you were paying attention to each sack enough air came back into your lungs. Sinking back down his shaft you could tell Chris was closer to the edge. Bobbing your head at a quicker pace your free hand toyed with his balls.

 “Asi nena” a breathy moan of encouragement.

 You could feel Chris’s shaft twitch inside you, his balls tensing up under your touch. He was seeing stars as you deep throated him one last time and swallowed around him. Chris incoherently spilled some Spanish curses mixed with your name. Warm white strands hit the back of your throat and pooled around your tongue. Pulling out his thick shaft you moaned contently as you swallowed his load and milked him out for every last drop.

 “Think you can give me another load papi” you grinned as you circled your tongue around his tip collecting the last few drops of his salty liquid.

 “Adonde? In that pretty little pussy of yours nena?” He asked as he wiped off some excess white drops from the corners of your lips.

 Grabbing his hand and cleaning up the juices you moaned out an “mm-hm.”

 Chris wasted no time and lifted you up, making you gasp as your hands clawed into his shoulders. His fingers dug into your soft flesh as his lips molded with yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist trying to pull him closer. Lower lips throbbed painfully as he dominated the kiss. With every passing second you were growing more and more needy for him.

 “Chris” you whined out grinding your hips down on his grip trying to find some friction.

 “Need something nena?” he teased grinning.

 He was playful and liked to push some buttons but he knew how to please. Chris was well aware of how needy and desperate you were. He knew if he kept at it, you might have killed him. Lips molded against each other as you tugged on Chris’s shaggy hair. Tasting himself on you was nothing new for him and he could honestly care less. Your walls clenched tighter as he set you down on the desk. Papers, and pens, and everything else rained down on the hard wooden floor as your ass was rested down on the cold desk. Your hands desperately roamed his body as you gripped his button up and tore it up. Buttons scattered around the office making Chris groan.

 “Aye nena” He whined.

 Warm lips marked the weakest point in your neck making you mewl out. Your warm hands roamed his skin sending a rush of blood back down to his cock. Tattooed hands grabbed the edge of your shirt and pulled in right off, tossing the fabric with the other discarded items. Your nipples hardened with the cool air making Chris groan out at your bare chest.

 “Nena no te puseste un corpiño?” he grinned cupping your breasts.

 His warms thumbs skimmed over your hard buds. Shivers ran down your spine the sensation pooling at your folds.

 “N-no papi” you moaned out tugging his hair.

 Moving one hand away Chris pampered your breast in soft kisses before circling his tongue around your hardened nipple. Your back arched and roughly pulled his hair. He swiftly mirrored his actions to your other nipple before pampering down your stomach in soft kisses. Grabbing your leggings and your panties Chris tugged them right off, and threw them aimlessly. Lowering his pants down, Chris grabbed his shaft and adjusted himself between your legs. Your hole clenched in anticipation as you whined out for Chris. His tip teased your folds soaking up in your juices before sliding in. Gripping onto Chris’s biceps you let out a content gasp. Feeling his size stretch you out had you floating on cloud nine.

 “Fuck you’re so tight nena” His groaned as he began rolling his hips into yours.

 Gripping the back of Chris’s shirt, you bucked your hips up. Head rolling back on the hard wood as every thrust had you moving back and forth. The desk creaked and groaned every time hips connected. He grabbed your hips tightly not letting you get too far as you marked little red lines down his biceps and through the back of his button up.  Your hole clenched around him, as you began to need more. The pleasure reaching its limit in this position, driving you whiner and whiner.

 “Chris” you moaned between thrusts as your legs wrapped around him trying to pull him closer.

 Squirming under his grip you tried to adjust your hips just to get that one sweet spot. He quickly got the message and pulled out to throw your leg over his shoulder. Adjusting his hips and as slid back inside had your eyes rolling back. With this new position he was able to get deeper inside you, stretching out those hard-to-reach places.

 “That better preciosa?” He groaned feeling your muscles tightly clench around him.

 You couldn’t even answer coherently as Chris’s tip hit your inner g-spot over and over again. Eyes glued to the back of your skull as the pleasure tightened inside you. Toes curled intensely as your screams grew louder and louder. Chris rammed inside you with the majority of his strength keeping you high above the clouds.

 “Christopher!” you screamed out bunching the back of his button down.

The pleasure in your lower stomach growing tighter and tighter. Your warm velvet walls fluttered around him as you grew closer and closer to orgasm. Chris growled feeling his own orgasm draw closer. His shaft throbbing making each thrust more difficult than the last.

 “Dale nena” he encouraged using his free hand to toy with your clit.

 The added stimulation had your thighs trembling and walls closing in tighter. You incoherently cursed his name as the pleasure released. Sparks of electricity strongly flowed through your body as Chris rode you out for as long as he could. He loudly groaned your name, as his own pleasure became too much. Strings of white liquid shot out of him as he filled you up. Giving you the last few thrusts, milking out every last drop. Chris stayed inside you for a second as you both floated back down to earth.

 “Hermosa viene a la oficina mañana” he grinned as he pulled out and gave you a soft kiss.

 Sliding off his desk, you stole his button up as he fixed his pants.

 “No papi, mañana terminas temprano” you pouted as you dragged him out of the office.

[five-rivers]

Loved Chapter 5

Sort of wanted to do something more elaborate with this, but it just wasn't happening. Meh.

.

“But you aren’t really real, are you?”

Tucker’s question killed the mood fast than a bullet. Danny and Sam stared at him from their side of the blanket nest.

“You want to rephrase that?” asked Sam, glaring, arms crossed.

“Uh,” said Tucker, sweat starting to form on his upper lip. “I mean, clearly you’re real, just… maybe not entirely physical? You, it’s,” he made a sort of twisting gesture with one of his hands. “People who aren’t from here can’t see you. They can’t even touch you. That sort of implies that you’re not on the same level of reality as them.” He shrugged. “You call the other place the Dream, right? Maybe you’re in, like, a kind of daydream or something.”

Danny twisted a corner of a blanket in his hands. “No,” he said.

“Danny,” started Tucker.

“No,” repeated Danny. “I can’t—” He noticed he was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused enough that he could see—No. “Tucker, I don’t—I don’t think I even have free will anymore.” No matter how much he Loved Clockwork and craved Love in return, no matter how glad he was that the dark future would never come to pass, that grated at times. “I need—” He gulped air.

(Before, if he was this panicked, his heart would be thundering in his chest. Now, it was far too quiet.)

Sam put a hand on his back, steadying. Tucker reached out, too, but hesitated, unsure.

“I need to be real,” he said. He needed to still exist, still be human, at least in part. He couldn’t lose that, too. No matter what else he might gain.

“You are real,” said Tucker. “I’m sorry, I—” He cursed lightly under his breath, “—I wasn’t thinking. It’s just… Maybe something you should think about. Maybe—Maybe you aren’t coming completely out of… I don’t know. Wherever you go.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “Maybe. I just. Not right now.”

“Okay,” said Tucker. “Yeah. What were we talking about before?”

“Who cares?” asked Sam. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“That sounds good,” said Danny.

.

Danny woke up first the next morning, which was somewhat unusual. Sam was definitely a night-owl, but Tucker woke up fairly early. He stepped over them, feet silent on the floor. Almost as if they weren’t really there.

He shook his head. Not now.

He went to the bathroom and took care of things slowly, deliberately, as if to impress upon his body that he was human.

Sam and Tucker still weren’t awake when he came back. Also, when he thought about it, the rest of the house was eerily silent as well.

No… There was music. Was that coming from outside? He closed his eyes to listen better and caught himself drifting off while standing.

That was abnormal. He knelt and shook Sam and Tucker’s shoulders. They didn’t stir.

Someone was here. And they were here without Danny knowing. That was bad. That was really bad.

He went to his parents’ room. They were asleep, too.

There was a nonzero possibility that he was the only one awake. (Assuming he had ever been awake in the first place and not, as Tucker put it, daydreaming.)

He went out, following the music. Music suggested Ember, but this didn’t seem to be her style. She preferred motion, energy, vibrance. This was quieter, subtler.

Then again, none of the others made sense.

(At least, Danny liked to pretend they didn’t.)

The music wasn’t louder outside, but it was clearer. The scent of something sweet floated on the air. Something warm. Like honey.

Was something buzzing?

Danny shook his head again, forcing himself back into awareness. Maybe he should try and figure out what was going on from inside the Dream. It wasn’t possible to fall asleep there. At least, Danny never had.

(Assuming he wasn’t always partially in the Dream, like Tucker said.)

On the other hand, it often helped to observe what was going on in the real world, on the surface of things, before diving. As messy as fights could be in the real world, winning them in the Dream was harder.

He forged on, periodically pinching himself. He wasn’t the only one on the streets, but he was the only one on the streets that wasn’t passed out. It looked like there had been some car crashes.

That’s when he saw her.

She stood in the middle of an intersection, looking away from him. She was built like a centaur, except the lower part of her body more closely resembled a massive deer than a horse. An elk, perhaps. Both her deer-portion and her human-portion had night-black skin, studded with white stars. Antlers curved and branched above her curly hair. A crown of red flowers sat on her head. She wore no other clothes.

Danny did not notice any of this at first. No, what first jumped out at him was the unmistakable chain of Love binding him to her and vice versa.

He’d never met anyone like this, so—

She turned to face Danny. But she didn’t have a face. She had a mask. A well-made mask that had both eye-holes and a mouth with lips that seemed to curve. It was also covered with pulsing, swirling, hypnotic patterns. Black and white chased each other across the mask, not respecting the mask’s physical curves.

Danny could feel his mind start to go fuzzy. Felt the ground go soft under him as he sank into the Dream. A distant part of him wanted to look away, but the rest of him could only blink slowly, captivated.

“Come,” she said in a fascinating combination of an out-loud voice and a True Voice, tugging lightly on the chain that attached Danny to her.

Danny complied, trotting out into the intersection. When he was most of the way there, she turned away again.

“Follow,” she ordered.

Danny did, vaguely noting how rapidly the sidewalks and concrete buildings of Amity Park flowed into smoothly rolling hills covered in grass and flowers. The air grew heavier. Hotter. The perfume of the flowers combined with the buzzing of the bees and the gentle music served to make Danny even drowsier than before.

Still, he could hardly nod off in this situation, walking behind her, Love connecting them.

Sluggishly, belatedly, a name came to mind. “Nocturne,” he said. The name tasted like milk and honey, like chamomile tea, like sleep. She stopped and inclined her head slightly towards him. “You’re different from before.”

“We haven’t met,” she said. Then she turned more fully, the lips on her mask curving into a smile. “Has our parent been showing you Dreams of me? Perhaps I looked more like this.” She changed, her body warping before Danny’s eyes to become an impossibly tall man completely covered in starry black robes. Except, of course, for his mask and curved, ram-like horns. “This is as good a place as any, I suppose.”

Danny nodded, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, and looked around. Amity Park was nowhere in sight. The hills were a little lumpy, as if the grass and moss were growing over oddly shaped rocks.

“Let’s sit,” said Nocturn, lowering himself elegantly to the ground.

Danny followed, movements clumsy and blurred by sleep. He blinked, and found his hands occupied by a large mug. He looked up at Nocturne. Had he given this to Danny, or…?

Nocturne smiled. Danny looked away, not feeling like getting caught in the hypnotic swirls of his mask again. There was something off about those rocks under the grass. Something about their shape…

Then he saw it and inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Bodies. They were bodies. Still breathing, but…

He looked back at Nocturne. He’d known Nocturne was being too nice to him. He was new to being other, but not new to being a younger sibling. Older siblings only acted like this when they had set up everything in their favor. When they wanted something.

Even knowing this, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Could he fall asleep in the Dream?

“What are you doing to them?” he asked. “How do I wake them up.”

Nocturne hummed. “I have an idea. Play a game with me, sibling, and I’ll tell you.”

“What kind of game?”

“You ask me a question, and for every answer I give you, I get something from you.”

“Like, an answer from me,” said Danny, trying to clarify his position, “or something else?”

Nocturne’s smile showed teeth.

“If I play this game,” said Danny, “I have to be able to say when it ends.” He didn’t want to be dancing around conversational pitfalls every time he interacted with Nocturne, after all. They were siblings.

(And though Love was not trust, it was Love. And Love was undeniable.)

“Of course,” agreed Nocturne, easily.

“Alright, then,” said Danny. He adjusted his grip on the mug.

The grass was crawling. He blinked, hard, and shook his head, dislodging two bees that had landed on his ear.

“How do I wake them up?” he asked.

“You can’t,” said Nocturne.

Danny paused, waiting for Nocturne to take what he wanted.

“You have other questions.”

“Aren’t you going to take something from me, for the question?”

“Yes, I am.”

Danny pursed his lips, realizing he had just wasted a question.

“If I can’t wake them, who or what can?”

“I could. Or they could wake themselves.”

Danny mulled over what that could mean. He had no idea where to start with the second part, but the first…

“What would I have to do, to get you to wake them?”

“You—”

The chain around Danny’s neck went taut, pulling him through the fabric of the Dream at breakneck speeds. He was in Clockwork, his sibling behind him.

You must not bully your sibling, my dear. I have enough love for both of you. You do not need to be jealous.

Danny swayed. Now that so much of the tension between him and Nocturne was gone, he was no longer able to use it to support his wakefulness.

Drink your milk, little Love. You’ll be able to find your friends.

Danny nodded sleepily and tipped the mug back. He didn’t remember what happened after that.

.

“Hundreds of Amity Park citizens are still in comas as health officials race to find the cause of the mysterious event. Some say that gas leaks are to…”

Danny tuned out the TV and glared at his cereal. He knew he had fallen asleep in the Dream and had done something, but the memory was beyond him. Maybe whatever it had been was beyond an even partially human mind.

Or whatever kind of mind Danny had.

His fingers twitched. He was going to go down again later today, to see if Clockwork would help him find everyone else. If they could be found at all. He didn’t want to. He was angry. Angry that this had happened, that it was still happening. Amity Park was his, and Nocturne had no right to try and steal and break and—

The terrible part, was that even though he was angry, his general desire to reach out to Nocturne, to lean on their Love… That had not diminished.

He looked forward to seeing them again.

The news continued to talk about the coma victims.

[writerpeach]

Office Hours

Berry Good Johyun x Reader

Categories: smut, public sex, student! Johyun

1703 words

I was organizing my fics this week and somehow I never posted this. It’s very short and not edited at all but I figured it was a good time to post during berry good’s comeback. Stream accio.

“I don’t think this is a good use of office hours, Miss Johyun.”

“Nonsense, professor. I need help going over the material. That’s what you’re here for isn’t it to help me?”

“Yes, but back in my office. That’s why they’re called office hours. What exactly are you looking for in this library, and why can’t you ask the staff? That’s what they’re trained for.” 

“I don’t like talking to them. They’re rude and stuffy and always stare at me weird.“

“Maybe it’s because your skirts are shorter than most of my student’s attention spans.”

Johyun huffed at your little teasing and carried on farther into the depths of the library’s bottom floor, stopping in a corner of a dimly lit section full of narrow shelves and dusty history books that hadn’t been touched in months, if not years. 

“Here we are.” 

“Where exactly is this? You know I don’t teach history.”

“No, but we’re exactly where we need to be. The darkest corner in the library. No one, and I mean no one ever comes here.”

“Why is that relevant, Miss Johyun? Is this why you dragged me out here?”

“I’m just looking for a little one-on-one time, professor,” Johyun said, as she shifted her body towards yours, closing the distance a little too much for comfort. 

“Johyun-”

Running a hand through her dark jet-black locks she stepped even closer, looking into your eyes. You felt her warm body pressing against yours until your back was resting against the shelves behind you, trapping you with her massive chest. You were quickly finding it harder to resist. 

“I’ll have you know I’m not wearing any panties, Professor,” she whispered, and the confession made you weak in the knees. 

“I can’t be part of this, whatever it is you’re trying. You’re my student, Johyun. Even if I wanted this we could get caught.” 

It wasn’t the first time Johyun tried to seduce you, and it wasn’t going to be the last if she had her way, which she was liable to.

Johyun crashed her lips against yours to silence any additional protesting, her tongue in your mouth was the tipping point. 

“Get caught? Maybe that’s the point, professor.” 

Breaking the kiss she locked her seductive eyes with you, and in an instant you felt her hand cupping and squeezing your crotch, causing a light gasp to escape from your mouth. 

“That is...unless you don’t want this, professor. Then I’ll just go back to studying in my dorm room all alone, and we can forget this ever happened.” 

“No, Johyun, I-I didn’t say that.”

“Good,” she said, as she blew hot air in your ear and nibbled on your earlobe, causing your whole body to freeze up in reaction.

“Because I give the best blowjobs...at least that’s what all the other professors have told me,” she said, with a huge devilish smirk. 

With one more wanton kiss, Johyun licked your lips and lowered herself down to her knees, running her small hands up your thighs and worked the buckle of your belt, unzipping your pants carefully.

“What am I working with here, professor...” she said, grinning as she yanked your slacks and boxers down around your ankles, exposing your cock and surprised by your size how hard you were for her already.

“Very nice, professor. Who knew you were hiding this?”

Johyun smirked and wrapped her hand around your cock, slowly pumping and running a thumb around your leaking sensitive tip, causing a moan to escape from your lips involuntarily. 

“If you don’t want to get caught professor, you should try to be quiet. We’re still in a library,” she said as her lips curled deeper.

Johyun was not in any mood for any buildup, teasing, or anything else that would have stalled what she was about to do. She dove straight and took your hard shaft into the warm embrace of her wet mouth, soft lips wrapping tightly around as they parted, taking another needy groan from you. 

You gasped as you felt her warm mouth swallow the entirety of your shaft, a gag reflex non-existent for the vixen named Johyun. She went to town on your dick as her lips slid all the way to your base, deepthroating every inch with ease and bobbed her head, making sure to never take her eyes off your own. 

Johyun loosened her tie and tossed it aside, slowly unbuttoning each button of her shirt. Her large supple breasts were partially exposed, barely contained in a sexy almost see-through lace bra that did whatever it could to poorly keep them inside. 

With a hand still wrapped around your needy dick, Johyun slobbered on your cock and made you see stars with pleasure, her lips with a firm pressure. Johyun slurped loudly up and down your length, making your whole shaft glistening with her warm saliva and confirming that she was very good at sucking you off.

You needed more of Johyun, and as great as it felt to see her bobbing her head as she worked your cock between your thighs, it was time for something else as you pulled her off your cock and she whined at the emptiness of her mouth.

“Professor…”

Without a word you turned her around, her palms instinctively grabbing onto one of the bookshelves as you bent her body deeply, raising her backside towards you as she presented herself to you. You hiked her grey pleated skirt past her slender waist and she looked back with pleasure as you verified the lack of panties, her round big ass drawn to your attention, unable to focus on anything else.

“What are you waiting for, professor? Put it in me.” 

You knew from your classes that Johyun wasn’t patient, but at this time you weren’t either. Especially when the risk of getting caught still existed, at this point it had enhanced the situation. 

“Tell me again what you want.” 

“Fuck me, professor,” Johyun said, as you lined your cock up with the pink lips of her pretty pussy, the heat of her cunt driving you wild already.

“I couldn’t hear that.” 

“Professor...fuck me,” she said, this time her words loud enough for anyone in earshot to hear. 

“Again.” 

“Fuck. Me. Profess-”

“Ah!” 

Before her sentence finished you plunged your cock into her tight pussy, causing her to moan as you felt her slick walls wrapping tightly around your shaft as you filled Johyun with every inch. You gave no time to adjust as you gave initial thrusts, one hand on her hip while the other reached forward to cover her mouth. 

“We’re still in a library Miss Johyun, so you should really try to be quiet,” you said, smirking to yourself as you mocked her words from earlier. You worked your hips in a rhythm as they met the soft skin of Johyun’s body, trying to hold back from moaning too loudly as her wet pussy lips coated your cock with her juices as you penetrated her again and again. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” you whispered into her ear as you drove your cock deep into her needy tight cunt, watching her thighs jiggle deliciously as you rocked her perfect fit body. 

Johyun’s muffled moans did their best to escape as you pounded her tight hole against the dusty shelves. You both shared a moment of panic as you heard a loud sound, realizing it was a book being dropped far enough away that there was no need to worry. 

After the false alarm you resumed your movements inside Johyun, the pleasure driving both of you insane. Your pace increased as did the lustful sounds from Johyun’s mouth, even with your hand cupping her mouth she was becoming louder by the second, and soon you gave up on trying to silence her pleasure. 

With your hands freed to do what they pleased, you reached around her chest and pulled her massive breasts out of her bra, feeling the softness of them as you squeezed them, trying to run your fingers through every inch of her warm flesh.

“Like my big tits, professor?” Johyun asked, and you only responded by upping your pace even more, pistoning your cock harder into her pussy as you continued to fondle her amazing heavy breasts. 

In that very moment the two of you forgot you were in a library, no longer caring about the threat of being caught as you fucked Johyun senseless, both of you moaning together as the harsh sounds of skin slapping against skin grew louder by the second. 

“Professor, I’m going to cum!” 

“Then fucking cum,” you growled, drilling Johyun’s pussy without a care in the world. You felt her walls clenching tighter and they pulsated around your cock as she drenched your shaft, thighs vibrating as her intense orgasm hit. She moaned freely and gasped with pleasure, and as you fucked her through every last bit of her climax you felt yourself close to arriving at the very destination you drove her to.

“Johyun...I’m going to cum inside you,” you said, repeatedly smacking your hips against her body as your words became faint as a whisper. You weren’t asking for permission but simply stating a fact and Johyun’s eyes lit up as she heard your intention. 

“Fill me, professor,” she demanded, and you matched her desires after a handful more of rough thrusts, her warm wet pussy pushing you to your limits as you prepared yourself. You left the comfort of her large warm breasts and held on to her wide hips tightly, burying your cock as deep as it could go as you erupted inside. You flooded her warm tight hole with thick spurts of cum that sent a tidal wave of pleasure with each one, throbbing and groaning with each eruption and filling Johyun to the very brim. 

“It’s so warm, professor,” Johyun said, as you rested inside with your cock still deep inside, trying to recover from your intense orgasm.

“There’s more where that came from,” you said, gradually pulling out of her freshly fucked pussy until she was empty, watching your load dripping down those luscious thighs.

“As of now Miss Johyun, office hours are mandatory.”

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 20: Koi Hitoyo

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Time to commit a little B&E, no big deal... probably.

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, had fun with it tho. Been crunching w/ writing to try and get enough written before I go out of town next week. Should keep me sane while I'm traveling, hopefully! Also all the titles for the Lao chapters (except blackout) are acid black cherry songs. They were my vibe for this part. Back to Liu on Thursday. Miss that guy.

Part 19 Part 21 Chapter Index

Kung Lao carefully shook your shoulder to wake you up. You fluttered your eyes open and wiped the sleepiness out of them. The sky was dark, and the stars were remarkably bright. You admired the way they twinkled, and the subtlety of the colors sprinkled throughout the darkness. You felt a little guilty for falling asleep but also felt much better. Apparently, you’d been exhausted.

“The coast is clear, I think.” Kung Lao whispered. The sneaking had already begun. The silence of the night was overwhelming, and it felt odd to break it. “The rest of the visitors left a little bit after you fell asleep. There’s been no sound or light since then. They put out the lanterns and all is still.”

“Did I sleep too long? I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I can be emotionally draining, I’m told, so I figured you needed it.” He shrugged and you nudged him as you had grown to do affectionately. He looked tired, too. Even if he said it was fine, you felt bad for falling asleep. He could have easily woken you up, though. It had been nice of him to let you rest. The confusion that had overwhelmed you earlier could be put aside for the time being. You had work to do. A goal to focus on.

“They didn’t even close the gate.” You felt suddenly guilty about this too. Breaking into a sacred place felt wrong but you had to get whatever it was that creature had hidden in the well. If you had just talked to the monks about this like you’d wanted to then you would have likely had permission to take a look but no. Instead, you’d gone with elaborate fake date ruse.

“I don’t imagine they expect to be robbed.”

“Please don’t phrase it that way.”

“I don’t imagine they expect to be respectfully intruded upon.”

“Better.”

Kung Lao’s high spirits helped your mood. You really did enjoy spending time with him even if he drove you completely up the wall. You snuck back inside the gates and Kung Lao slipped an arm around your waist very suddenly.

“Don’t panic.”

“I wasn’t going to, but you do know the fake date portion of this adventure is over, right?”

“I’m just going to get us a bit closer. Lots of flat ground to cover. Easily spotted.” He took his hat off and threw it toward the shrine where it whizzed through the air. Then with a flicker of motion, you felt the floor open beneath you and you were consumed by white light and fell. You closed your eyes tight and when you opened them again, you were popping back up out of the ground with a leap. Kung Lao had jumped right back into his hat. He released your and tucked the strap back beneath his chin. You watched him for a moment with reverence. That was awesome. If you could travel like that then you would never stop. Remarkable. You’d traveled by both lightning and hat today.

You walked up the steps to the shrine, careful to be as quiet as possible. Kung Lao pushed the doors open and winced. They hadn’t locked it. This felt wrong, incredibly morally wrong. You had to remind yourself that whatever that wicked man had hidden there, he had done so with malintent. Removing it would be a good thing for them and the shrine.

There was nary a soul in sight even as you sat and listened within the entry room. There were no footsteps beyond, not even a single candle was lit within. The monks, if they were still awake, were much further within the shrine, leaving this area to them. You slid the door to the next room open. The central corridor. It made the pit in your stomach open back up.

When you closed your eyes, you tried to recall the vision without allowing it to consume you. You blindly grasped for Kung Lao’s hand which he offered you. Then you walked to the point where you recalled the creature walking to before he’d placed the mysterious ringing something into the well. The ground beneath the man was dirt. It seemed so obvious now that it had been built over.

The ringing in your vision began and so you opened your eyes to be free of it. Kung Lao had let you take the lead but had stayed at your side. You were standing right before the dip in the floor that had been cleared out for the evening. There had been a kotatsu there earlier. Now it was just wooden floorboards, and a few rolled up tatami mats.

Kung Lao let go of your hand and then stepped into the dip and crouched, brushing his fingers over the seams in the wood. His fingertips caught a circular latch, and he pulled a sizable hatch upward. You walked around the hatch and helped him set the lid back quietly. You waited for any sign of movement in the corridors branching off but you were utterly alone.

“You’re not gonna like this.” Kung Lao leapt into the hatch. You joined him and sighed. More wooden flooring. Great.

“Well, at least it’ll be an easy fix?” You shrugged. Kung Lao nodded. You appreciated that you were working together to try and justify your actions. Together you pried up the floorboards one at a time, careful of the sound it made. Sure enough, just beneath the boards, was an old, short stone well. It reminded you of something from a horror movie. Worse than that, the air felt wrong. You got the worst feeling in your stomach. Kung Lao shivered as if he could sense something too. You cleared the area of boards and then stepped together onto the dirt surrounding the well. “This is it.” The words made you shiver as they left your mouth.

“It doesn’t look terribly deep. I can see the bottom from here. Little bit of water though which will be gross.”

“I’ll do it. This was my vision.”

“No, you’re too short.” He tapped the top of your head playfully.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m going to have to insist that you don’t go into the spooky well after almost throwing yourself into the blood lake. Too many horror movie things happening to you today.”

“I can’t argue with you on that.”

Kung Lao grasped the side of the well and then lowered himself inside. He made a face of disgust as his feet slapped into the water, but it barely went up to his ankle. The well was only a little bit taller than he was, thankfully. He could very easily pull himself out of if something went wrong.

He crouched and searched the water. You were grateful that it wasn’t you down there. “I found something” With a heave he pulled it free of the mud. “Heavier than I expected it to be.” He lifted an old, wet, bronze bell about a foot in length. It had intricate carvings all along the sides but was so covered with muck that you couldn’t make any of them out. Kung Lao held it out for you to take. You did and then Kung Lao grasped the edge of the well and began to pull himself up.

But when you picked up the bell there was a hollow, sad ringing. Silence fell very suddenly and quickly, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. You and Kung Lao had just enough time to exchange a worried glance before there was an earsplitting pop and you were both thrown from the well and the hole that you’d made in the floor. You ducked low and managed to roll back only a few feet from the well, but Kung Lao was thrown ass over tea kettle right through the door that you’d carefully slid closed on your way in.

“Lao!” You shouted but didn’t turn away from the well, holding the bell tight to you.

“I’m okay!” He yelled from somewhere behind you.

There was a sticky sounding thud and you dared to get to your feet and peer over the edge of the dip in the floor and to the well. A huge hand with four claws grasped the side of the well, followed by another. The creature that followed was dripping in something sticky, thick, and brown. It smelled like tar. With a spit-slinging roar, it swung its arms wildly and the tar shifted and stretched before becoming hooked swords that the creature grasped. Oh. A monster. Was this really happening?

“Kung Lao?” You said nervously. “It’s got shang gou!” There was no more sneaking. Clutching the bell, you stepped back cautiously and braced yourself to be ready to dodge. The creature leapt out of the hole and landed with another roar. You leapt out of its range as it sliced toward you. It leapt over you and you ducked and rolled as the blades crashed into the wooden floor behind you. The bell was cradled against your chest. You yelped as the creature smashed its foot into the ground, destroying the wood beneath it and sending you rattling to the side.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

You just had to fight a huge tar monster without any hands.

Great.

You ducked beneath the blades as they swung at you again and then kicked the creature but it grasped your foot and lifted you into the air, throwing you clear to the back of the room. You crashed into the wood and smacked onto the floor with a wheeze. The wind was knocked out of you but what was worse was the ringing of the bell.

It rang and rang and rang and it hurt your ears terribly. You shouted to try and drown out the sound but nothing you did helped. You forced yourself to your feet and found that the bell had not only hurt your ears but across the way, Kung Lao was crouched, holding his ears and the tar creature was swatting the air arounds its head to try and chase off the sound.

The ringing began to fade, and you could get up. Your ears felt like they were bleeding. You grasped the clapper within the bell to keep it from ringing again. Then you circled around the creature to get a better angle at it. Kung Lao threw his hat and the blade sliced clean through the creature’s arm and it howled in agony. The hat returned to him, and he twisted and slipped it back on his head then fluidly changed stances and waited for his next opportunity to strike.

As he rushed the creature with a flip through the air, the arm he’d cut off had been replaced with a stretch of tar. Kung Lao ducked but was knocked back and then grabbed and thrown again through the doors to the entryway, through the front door and outside. If you hadn’t been worried about him then you might have laughed.

You hurried past the creature, bell clutched close and tried to rush to his aid. The creature grasped at you, then swung its one remaining blade. You rolled beneath its grasp and tucked the bell beneath your arm and shook out your right hand. You could do this, you just had to not overthink it. Much to your surprise, as if drawing a line with a quill, there was a swell of ink and the jian appeared in your right hand. You swung it at the ready and turned toward the creature, bracing yourself.

It roared again and rushed toward you with its remaining blade. You knocked the blade to the side and twirled out of the way before slicing through the creature’s stomach. Tar bubbled out of the wound and dripped onto the floor in piles of sludge, but the creature wasn’t slowed. You ducked beneath its swing and when you struck again the creature grasped your blade and pulled you closer, your feet sliding against the floor like it was nothing.

The creature yelled in your face and with a yell back, you pulled the blade through its flesh but it swung and backhanded you so hard that you were thrown back. You rolled back to your feet but the creature jumped just in front of you and you lost your balance and kept your desperate grasp on the bell and your jian.

You leapt back but were grabbed around the throat and lifted off your feet. The jian abandoned you and you grasped at the tarry hand to try and pull free. The smell was horrendous and the bell was ringing, muted, beneath your arm. You thrashed and kicked, trying to twist at pressure points, but the creature wasn’t weak the way that people would usually be. Your vision blurred and spots formed before your eyes. You tried to will anything to come of your arcana, anything. Liu had said he thought you could perform mimicry. This would have been a great time for that hat to come whizzing by to save you but there was no sign of Kung Lao.

Shit! Was he okay? You lifted the bell enough to let it free and cried out in agony at the sound. The creature hashed its maw and swung its free hand to try and rid itself of it. The ringing was horrible and if you didn’t get away soon, you were going to pass out.

Then something tore through the creature’s arm, black and spinning. You fell to the ground with a thud and the hand dripped into a pile of ooze. You scooted back, ears still ringing as you stopped the clapper inside the bell to silence it. You scrambled to your feet and tore the sash around your waist before hastily wrapping it around the clapper to keep it from ringing again.

You stumbled back, still struggling for breath, throat sore but the something that had cut through the arm of the creature now stood in front of you.

Your eyes went wide and you stared, dumbfounded.

Kung Lao.

Except it wasn’t Kung Lao.

You’d made him out of ink and it had saved you. The ink Lao swung his hat deftly and kept the creature at bay in front of you. How had you done it? That was definitely your arcana but it moved with a mind of its own, in a way that was incredibly familiar to you. You had manifested a creature who could mimic what you knew of Kung Lao which was far more Wing Chun than you’d expected. You mentally thanked your father for that.

You backed up with the bell and let the ink construct keep the creature at bay as it tried to get to you. The room had been torn to shreds. Walls ruined, floor cracked. It looked like a tornado had blown through it. You went to search of Kung Lao but he came to you before you got far, right through the floor, twisting with his hat in a haze of white light. He readied his stance but stopped in surprise at the sight of a shadow of him fighting the beast. He turned toward you and you saw blood dripping down the side of his face but he also looked impressed.

“Huh.” He didn’t wait long to jump back in the fray, fighting alongside his shadow self which you allowed to cooperate with him. Or at least you hoped you did. You weren’t familiar with this yet.

You backed up, bell still in your arms and willed the ink to duck and move and found that you could take control of it to better cooperate with Kung Lao. The tar creature was smashing wildly throughout the shrine, jumping at them, and slashing with its remaining sword. Both versions of Kung Lao were fighting deftly against the monster, and you couldn’t help but think that it was just like a scene out of one of those movies you loved.

The ink Kung Lao was grabbed by the creature, but it was enough of a distraction for the real Kung Lao. He kicked the creature back and the ink version escaped and swept the creature’s feet from beneath it. With a deft spin through the air, hat in hand, Kung Lao sliced the creature across its middle and leapt over its head. The ink lifted the creature and threw it back toward the well.

In a spray of light, Kung Lao had teleported to where the creature landed and with a throw and a flourish, his hat tore through the tar monster and exploded out the other side. The creature couldn’t keep up with them both and stumbled between attack after attack. Then it crumbled into a bubbling heap, losing all form. Holding onto the ink form of Kung Lao was exhausting but you did it, making it back up in case the creature took form again.

But it didn’t, instead it swelled and spread, pulsing, throbbing as though a horrible heart lay beneath it. You released your arcana as Kung Lao looked back to you with sudden urgency.

“Run.” He shouted and started toward you. “Run!” He disappeared in a spray of light as you turned to run and emerged right behind you. He grabbed you but you didn’t get to disappear with his magic before the tarry remains of the monster that had protected the bell exploded in a brilliant blast and a spray of tar. You were thrown with such force that you were blown through the remains of the doors and down the steps of the shrine and onto the stone pathway.

You rolled to a stop on the stone, Kung Lao lying on top of you. Tar rained from the sky, splattering you and the surrounding path. You cradled the bell beneath your arm and stared back at the shrine as if waiting for the creature to come after you again but nothing did. You leaned your head back on the stone with a thud.

“You okay?” Kung Lao was out of breath and scraped up all to hell. The cut on his forehead was swollen and bleeding freely. His sleeve and side had been torn to shreds. He had been thrown through several doors, you supposed.

“Yeah.” You laughed in disbelief. “You? You look… worse for wear.”

“I’m okay, I think? Blood is dripping into my eye which is annoying.” His eye was bloodshot and irritated. You wiped the blood away from his forehead carefully with your sleeve, redirecting the flow of it down the side of his face. “Thanks. Is it bad?”

“No. Looks worse than it is.”

He relaxed on top of you and set his hat to the side, resting his forehead against your shoulder with a grunt. “Did you make me out of ink?”

“It appears that yes, yes I did.”

“How?”

“That is a good and interesting question that I do not have the answer to.”

“Why me? Of all things?” He turned his gaze to the shrine as though worried that thing would come after you again. You had a feeling that it was gone.

“I don’t know. I panicked and realized you weren’t there so… and then you were there except I had made you?”

Kung Lao watched you and you felt suddenly nervous that you’d made him out of ink. You hadn’t thought about it. You hadn’t even considered that you could do anything that dramatic with your arcana! You’d just been grateful that something had knocked you free of that thing’s choking grasp. You had expected him to tease you or taunt you for choosing him to come to your rescue but instead his scraped hand engulfed your cheek and he kissed you. Passionately at that.

You dropped the bell and it thankfully didn’t ring. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders without thinking. Even though he tasted both like blood and sulfur, his lips also felt wonderful. You had so much adrenaline pumping through you after everything, there was no listening to the inner-voice that screamed you had promised to stop kissing them. You laughed against his lips, feeling the split in the bottom of your lower lip. It stung against his lips but you wouldn’t stop him, not for the world.

His hand gripped at the sash on your side, the other lost in your hair and you widened your mouth to invite a much more intimate kiss. Fingers at your side, he adjusted so his knees were on either side of you, straddling you and then suddenly he stopped.

There were feet next to you and suddenly you could hear the rushing of many other feet too.

“Is everyone okay?” The monk next to you yelled and Kung Lao pushed up on his hand, turning to look at the one closest to you.

You turned your gaze too. There were monks running from the other half of the shrine, rushing into the room that you had more than desecrated. You had destroyed it. Standing next to you was none other than the monk who had caught you earlier in the central room. Great. That wasn’t awkward at all.

“What happened here? Are you okay?” It was remarkable that he cared about your wellbeing.

You laughed nervously and looked to Kung Lao who had smoothed his lips out into a thin line. Monks were running past you to assess the damage. The monk offered Kung Lao a hand to help him up which he took. “We were uh… making out?” You gritted your teeth as you leaned up on your elbows. Kung Lao laughed, bending over with his hands on his knees. Even the monk laughed with you. Kung Lao then offered you his hand and you took it and stood, picking up the bell as you went. The monk was looking to you expectantly for the real story of what had happened.

“First of all, we’re sorry.” Kung Lao dusted off your shoulder and you swatted his hand away. There was a scrape on your forearm and your lip was bleeding but otherwise you thought you were okay. Your neck would probably be bruised. All things considered, it could have gone worse. “This is a long story…” You were grateful for Kung Lao’s charm as he explained to the monks why you had come there, sent by Lord Raiden from the Shaolin Order of Light in search of a hidden object they believed to be in their temple. You’d tried not to disturb anyone but the chaos that had come with finding the object was something that took you by surprise.

He said it in a very engaging and interesting way, but you tuned in and out of it. You knew the story and your ears were still throbbing after tangling with the bell. It was soothing to listen to Kung Lao talk and even more so to hear the truth even if he was vague with private details concerning your reasons.

You held out the bell for the monks to examine but none of them seemed eager to touch it. “We have sensed evil here for years. It has been written about in our logs for centuries. We have searched for the source and cleansed often but the evil has persisted. I believe that this is the source of it.” You exchanged a knowing look with Kung Lao. You were suddenly uncomfortable holding the bell. “This dotaku has a heavy curse upon it.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad that I’m holding it.”

Several monks came to you and set down a few cloths, doused in water. They instructed you to set down the bell in the center and then wrapped it up, leaving your torn sash around the clapper. They tucked some of the cloth into the hollow part of the bell. Then they prayed around it before offering it back to you.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“We will rebuild. It is worth it to have gotten rid of the curse lying beneath our temple. We’re grateful.” The monk bowed but most of the other monks were continuing to assess the damage. You had been worried about a few floorboards and instead you’d destroyed an entire section of the temple. So much for discretion.

“We really are sorry.” Kung Lao bowed apologetically.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We’re grateful to be rid of this dotaku. Make certain that it’s kept out of the wrong hands.”

“We will.”

“Also, one more request?”

“Anything.” Kung Lao bowed again.

“Never come back. Please.” The monk looked to you scoldingly. You laughed and then covered your mouth before bowing apologetically. “We’ve arranged for a ride that will take you back to town.”

“We’re very grateful.” Kung Lao offered you his arm and you took it, exhausted. The monk gestured toward the path that would take you away and then waved before turning back to his comrades and assessing the damage. You and Kung Lao walked down the path to the front gates where you could see headlights approaching. Silently you stood, waiting, and the longer you stood there, the more difficult it became for you to keep a straight face.

An old sedan pulled to a stop in front of you. The driver looked at you in surprise and then turned his gaze immediately. Kung Lao burst into laughter. You did the same, burying your face against his shoulder, holding the bell close to your chest. It hurt to laugh but god that had been such a chaotic mess. Kung Lao opened the back door of the sedan for you and you climbed in. He slid in after you.

“…back to town?” The driver seemed both concerned and as though he didn’t want to get involved.

“Folkloro Ominato, please.” Kung Lao managed to stifle his laughter and rested his hat in his lap. Then he leaned his head back against the seat as the driver started down the road. You sat listening to the quiet hum of the talk radio the driver had on. “At least we don’t have to walk six miles back to the hotel.”

“Kung Lao, could that have gone worse?”

“Yes. It could have. We’re alive and clothed, Y/N. That’s a win.” Kung Lao closed his left eye as blood dripped into it again. Poor guy’s forehead was swollen, hair soaked in blood. You tore more of your sash and patted at the blood above his eye. He watched you curiously and you avoided his gaze since he was trying to catch it. You didn’t need another tense moment. You were sore and exhausted. Kung Lao grabbed your wrist and stopped you from dabbing at his wound. You didn’t fight him but turned your gaze down.

He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand, then lifted it to his lips, letting them brush against the back of your knuckles. They were scraped, the back of your index finger bleeding. His lips pressed just next to the wound as the sedan came to a stop just in front of your hotel. Kung Lao didn’t let go of your hand even as the driver got out and opened the door for you.

You pulled your hand back reluctantly. Kung Lao got out of the car and you followed him. You offered some money to the driver for the trip and the late hour. He bowed his thanks and then got back into his car and left. Thankfully, because of how late it was, there were only a few employees in the hotel lobby. You were stared at as you entered the hotel, bloodied and filthy, but no one stopped to talk to you.

Kung Lao redirected you to the elevator instead of the stairs and once inside, you both leaned against the back wall, exhausted. Your rooms were closer to the stairwell, but the trek was still easier than four flights of stairs after the day that you’d had. Your legs were dragging. You probably would have slept in the stairwell if you’d decided to go that way. You stood in front of the doors to your adjacent rooms for a long time. Kung Lao leaned against his door and watched you. You opened the door to your room, both exhausted and wired. It felt weird to be without him after being joined at the hip for most of the day.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep. Want to clean up and come back to my room? Hang out?” He looked you over, eyes lingering on the torn sash and then the scrape that had ripped your sleeve.

“That depends.” You leaned against the door frame and watched him.

“On what?”

“Whether or not hang out is a euphemism, Kung Lao.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not a euphemism. I may have noticed when we checked in that they have a few martial arts films to rent. Figured we could put one on and just… be. Feeling nostalgic after spending today with you.” Kung Lao’s serious moments were going to kill you. If this was, in fact, a serious moment. It was beginning to feel like another moment of him manipulating the truth. You narrowed your eyes at him but he kept his on your feet. How could you say no to him? Especially when he was bloodied up the way he was. Would you have been able to sleep anyway? It would have been easier if you had just gotten one room with two beds. This was your fault for insisting that you had separate spaces to stay in.

“I’d like that. I just need to clean up a little.” You nodded toward your room.

“Yeah, me too. I’m a bloody mess.”

“You really are.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He winked and then walked into his room. You heaved a sigh and then did the same. You placed the bell down and cleaned up. Some of the new clothing was ruined already, but it had served its purpose. You checked on your side to make sure it was still closed up tight and thankfully it was. In fact, it looked much better. You were scraped on your shoulder, your lip was swollen, and your throat was bruised, but other than that you’d made it off easy. Changing into some more of your new clothes, you picked up the bell and brought it back with you to Kung Lao’s room.

He had the door still open a crack and you knocked to make sure he was decent. That was all this day needed was for you to walk in on Kung Lao naked or something. You shook off the thought. “I’m clothed.” He called to you as though he could read your mind. You stepped into his room and closed the door behind you. It occurred to you now that you could just return to Raiden’s Temple. But sleep would do you some good and Kung Lao hadn’t mentioned it so you wouldn’t either.

Kung Lao was holding a cloth over the scrape on his side, having changed into clean pants. He offered you a wave as he fiddled with the remote with his other hand. you joined him and took the cloth from his side and tended to the scrape there. “You need to get these looked at.”

“No.” He spoke flatly. “Any preference for these movies?”

“I’m serious, Kung Lao.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. Just wrap it up and I’ll deal with it when we get back to the temple.”

“Why do you hate taking care of yourself so much?”

“Do you have a preference or not?” He yawned. “I’m just picking one.” He put on one of the movies and set down the remote by the television before sitting on the bed. You sat next to him and wrapped the wound up as he had asked. You hoped he took care of it otherwise he could be in trouble. You’d remind him in the morning.

Then Kung Lao laid on the bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. You discarded the cloth and set the bell next to the television. Then you did the same and laid next to him. You sat, listening to the sounds of the movie which was not one you recognized but was still familiar and comforting.

You could feel him watching you again but kept your gaze on the ceiling. If he had something to say then he would say it. Either that or he would just stare at you. You reached for his hand blindly and gave it a squeeze. You’d had one hell of a day. Anything that you’d argued about, left unsaid, or had said too much of could wait for another time. For now, you were at peace. You’d gotten what you’d come there for and that was what mattered.

Holding his hand, you drifted to sleep next to him.

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 5

Maul x sith!reader 

Word Count: 3135  

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, remnants of a battle field and dead bodies, pining, fluff

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       When your transport touched down on Malachor you didn't feel the urge to run in exploration like you had exhibited with Corellia or Dathomir. You absolutely felt that familiar pull from the force, you were in the right place but you were still hesitant. When the door opened and the ramp hissed out you turned to your master for instruction.

"I cannot guide you here apprentice. You felt the call and now, you must answer it. I will follow but you must lead the way." He extended his arm out towards the horizon.

    Before continuing you reached down and removed your shoes wearing only the wrap from kicking the golden Zabrack’s horn. You took a deep breath and walked off of the ship with your eyes closed. A quiet gasp escaped your lips the second you felt the blackened rock underfoot. It was colder than you had expected. So much colder that it sent a chill up your spine and tapped into your anxiety. It was snuffed out when you felt a gentle pinging tug, deeper inside your belly than when you had felt it on Dathomir.

    You knew your eyes would be worthless and possibly even get in the way of this endeavor so you tore at the hem of your pants and fashioned a blindfold. As he said he would, Maul simply watched you, knowing your journey here would be much different than his own. Despite the fact he didn't really understand why you needed to be barefooted and blind.

    You led the way across the barren landscape only interrupted by the occasional black spire. Wind whipped around you. A vast crevice ripped through the rock in front of you and your master almost reached out to stop you from falling into it but you had come to a halt. Curling your toes around the edge. You felt the call come from the depths of this haunted place. Once you sensed it you gracefully leapt into the hellscape below followed by Maul.

      The air was stagnant, completely void of life. You felt like you had interrupted a deadly pantomime with the slightest twitch of your finger. Although you could not see the bodies that lay out before you, specks of residue that once were life force signatures permeated your senses. Light and dark.

"They're here master."

"You can feel them." It wasn't a question so much as an acknowledgement.

    You avoided the rougher terrain and the thousands of bodies expertly. In a way you could see them but it wasn't outlines so much as it was wavering hues.

"Were they Jedi?"

"Some of them, yes. Many of them, no. Malachor was a battlefield in the war between the Sith and the jedi, while our numbers were expansive."

    You felt the pulse of what you searched for nearby so you removed your blindfold to mourn all the lives had been lost or thrown away. Seeing now for the first time the true extent of the carnage. Many forms stood in what seemed like mid war cries or attack stances. Your brow furled in confusion.

"Many of them didn't fall to the saber or the attack of an opponent?"

"You are correct. The Sith hold a powerful weapon at the apex of our temple. One that has the ability to rob a vicinity of every ounce of life."

"So, no one won this battle.."

"Not this battle, everyone lost greatly. But it was our numbers that were permanently decimated before the rule of two was put into place." You nodded at his explanation. Staring into the ashen eyes of a Sith warrior frozen in battle with a jedi in front of you. You reached out and brushed a knuckle across his cheek. Your vision all but blacked while stars danced in front of them, your skin tingling. The pulse you felt stronger than ever.

"I WON’T LEAVE HER HERE!"....... your master's voice screamed. "Brother you must trust her. We have to leave … NOW." Savage surged forward trying to pull Maul along with him. They were missing limbs, dust kicking up underfoot.

Your eyes snapped open and fell upon the lord that stood before you.

"What did you see?" Maul asked from behind you.

"I... I don't know."

    The form of the man you had touched shifted in front of you as if life sprung from his soul once again. He reached to his side and took his second saber in his free hand. Dropping to his knee with ridged movements he held the two weapons out to you. You bowed your head to the warrior and accepted the gifts he offered to you.

    They felt light in your hands, much lighter than the one that hung from your belt. Their hum synced with your heartbeat.

"You must... extinguish...the fear.." his voice was wavering with a slight echo, growling almost as if it hurt to speak. You ignited the new blades, one stretching long and slim, the other half of its length and ever so slightly thicker. A wave of power washed over you, you were on the right path.

"The shadow.. cannot exist... without the light..." the warrior fell, his ashen body crumbling and drifted away in a wind that didn't blow as well as the remains of the jedi he was frozen in time with. Their dust intermingling in the air before falling to the bedrock. You removed the saber you had stollen and corrupted and let it fall to the earth.

    Your master sat in awe at what had played out before you both as you turned to face him. The ground started to shake unevenly, pebbles dancing across the land.

"We have to leave." He whispered harshly. "Now!" Maul pulled you out of your state, dragging you away until your feet caught up with your racing pulse. The two of you pounded your feet along the path you had come here on until the sky opened up above you. Maul jumped to the top before you could, shouting for you to follow. The opening shifted and started to close, panic in your master's eyes. You hadn’t exuded enough to make it to the opening and clung to a shelf just out of his grasp both of your arms reaching to one another.

"Master, I'm slipping I can't hold on." His eyes calmed.

"Darling let go. I've got you." You closed your eyes and released your grip trusting your master. You felt warmth from his force energy envelop your body as he lifted you out of the hole just as the crevasse closed behind you. Falling into his physical arms he held you tightly, protectively. You felt his relief ripple out of him and mix with your own.

    Heat flickered across your skin and you took a step back as he released you.

"What... what was that down there?" You stuttered. Maul pinched his chin with his finger and thumb, eyes down, in silence for a time.

"I honestly don't know. Nothing like that happened to me during my times in this place or on Korriban. Nor have I witnessed anything in its like. What I do know is that you got what you came for and were then in a way told to leave. I believe we must follow that last instruction and get back to Dathomir." You nodded in an apprehensive agreement and made your way back towards the ship just as the planet started to tremor again.

    You turned and took in the sight of Malachor one last time before your master closed the hatch and hurried to take off.

 ~~~~~

      It's like he was waiting for her. Like they weren't his blades, he was simply holding them for her. Extinguish the fear... what could that possibly mean. What will she bring down in this universe? Once the ship was positioned correctly, he made the jump to hyperspace. They had traveled two rotations to Corellia and another to get to Malachor. Three rotations.. what did she see in her vision when she first touched the fallen Sith?

    Maul stood and left the cockpit behind him wanting to give you some kind of guidance but he needed more information. He found you with your legs crossed sitting in the middle of the common area. Your eyes closed, feet still bare and your sabers resting in front of you.

    He sat behind you, his back lightly contacting yours. He relaxed and tried to extend his consciousness to meld with your own, this time purposeful. Maybe you could show him what you saw there. He couldn't reach you though, your mind was shut to everything around you. The only exception being a pinhole allowing the force itself inside but nothing else. He wouldn't force his way in. He could but he didn’t.

    Maul spent his time reading through the Holo-net News, limited strength training and occasionally trying to reach you to no avail. He tried to rest but found he couldn't. Insomnia back in full force without you. The restless sleep he was able to find was riddled with nightmares of Lotho Minor. He didn't realize exactly how strongly he had subconsciously come to rely on your presence. He growled in frustration both on what would be his third night without so much as an hour of uninterrupted rest and his attachment to you. He had never been attached to anything before. You had taken hold of him rather quickly.

    The familiar sound of the nav system indicating their arrival proved a comforting distraction as he guided the ship back to their camp. His apprentice's rancor Angel stomped out of the woods and finally your eyes opened.

"We're here already?"

"You've been meditating for the equivalency of three days now. We're you able to expand on your vision at all?"

"Not much but... well.. it's better that I show you."

    Maul watched as you stood and strode over to him. You took his hands and held them to your cheeks, taking another step towards him until your bodies were a breath apart. You felt the heat from his breath when you held him the same way you had directed him. Slowly drawing yourself forward and pressing your foreheads together, lips almost brushing. He trembled at the intimacy before figures danced in his mind.

    He saw what you had seen on Malachor. Him screaming for you and Savage denying access while you stood, arms raised holding something unseen back with the force. Savage made him leave you there. The two of them ran as well as they could to a destination he couldn't fathom until he no longer felt your force signature.

 ~~~~~

      When the shared experience ended you pulled your head away slightly and opened your eyes. His stare met your own and you could see a sadness in them. A regret of an action that hadn't yet come to pass.

"To predict one's own death is..." you cut him off.

"We don't know that that's what I saw. You know better than I that the future is not set in stone, we don't know what it means or what comes after."

    You released him and turned to the cooler to fetch some water. Finally feeling the effects of going three rotations in a deep meditative state.

"You are my Master and I your apprentice. I have already mentally prepared to give my life if it means you would live or if I should fail. Should that be what I saw."

    Maul tensed at your words, unwilling to accept this, he made his way for you.

"This... this is more than a master and his apprentice." He tenderly held the outside of your hip. "It has been since I took Savage to the nightsisters. You know it. I know it. I do not know what this is or what it will become but it's much more complicated than what you say."

    You laced your fingers with his and leaned back into him. Reaching your other hand up and tracing light touches around the base of his horns that sprouted from the back of his head. He gripped you tighter and nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his chest gently vibrating. "I will always keep you safe." He murmured.

    His usual mental armor had fallen away and although you didn't probe, it felt as if his thoughts pushed their way into your mind.

    Slowly...   gently... do not... devour her....

    Heat pooled in your lower abdomen and you whimpered. Turning into his hold you looked up into his glowing eyes, his pupils just starting to dilate. Cupping the nape of his neck you pulled his lips into yours. Lightly gliding them across his until you took hold in a passionate kiss. Maul groaned, had he ever felt this before? He couldn't remember if there ever was a time where he had.

    His hands and his lips acted in stark differences. His fingers held your hips hard enough you were sure their print would remain after his touch left. But his lips, his tongue; they danced gracefully almost meekly with your own. Your pulses hammered in your chests, faces flushed and nerves on fire.

    Not.. not yet...

    He delicately broke the connection between your mouths but your grasps remained. Struggling to catch your breath, he traced your jawline with his nail, gazing into you with adoration. "Patience." He whispered. "You haven't eaten in days." You chuckled and turned away to satisfy one of your hungers; cheeks still heated.

"Once you've satiated yourself bring your new sabers outside and we will verify that your blockage was in fact the jedi's weapon."

"Alright master." You replied, generously slathering butter on bread.

    He left you to it and exited the ship to stretch his legs. The kiss already feeling like it had only been a dream. He knew it was real though. Proven by a new found confidence in the air around you when you met him outside. New weapons in hand you ignited them. Maul did the same and took his ready position.

    Your forms were a night and day comparison to what they had been a few days previously. You dodged his attacks with intricate acrobatics and strong parries. Maul still got the better of you more than a few times but the difference was adamant.

"Well done. Much better. Still, lots of room for improvement but the simple switch in your weaponry has made an obvious change for the better." You bowed your head.

"Thank you master. I'm sure my abilities will be honed under your instruction."

"I have no doubt of that little one,” a mischievous glimmer twinkled in his eyes.

    You lifted your head to smile at him but something pricked at the back of your neck causing your hair to stand on end.

"Savage..." Maul whispered. "He's in pain."

    You wasted no time and made your way over to Angel, whispering something. He took off running towards the nightsister's encampment.

"I'm on it master. Its time he come home to us." You sat and closed your lids, taking over the mind of your beast and seeing clearly through his eyes.

"We will be in over our heads if we go to them directly and I personally don’t wish for the wrath of witches... if I can cause a large enough distraction for him to get to us..."

~~~~~

     The nightsister's camp was being ransacked by an enraged beast. Savage, covered in deep scratches and bloody bite marks could sense the familiarity as he stumbled out of the rocky fortress towards the barren clearing. "Angel?" The nightsisters had passed him without thought as they retreated into their temple to regroup. While they were out of sight Savage trusted his instincts and jumped onto the back of the beast, allowing it to whisk him away.

~~~~~

     When you could see they were almost to camp you opened your eyes and stood. Maul watched you closely but gave the both of you some space when Savage entered the camp on the back of Angel. He slid down the monster and made his way over to you. His body language gave off an air of awkwardness and his eyes were filled with regret.

"Young one... I'm so, so sor-."

    You launched yourself up into his arms, tightly wrapping your arms around his neck. Your feet dangled off the ground just below his knees. It took him a moment to get over his shock before he returned your embrace fervently, scrunching up his eyes.

"Please just... shut up. It's alright. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He set you down tenderly on the ground.

"I'm glad your back, YOU think I'm funny." You shot a playful glare over at your master who responded by coming up to your side and possessively running a finger down your spine before settling his palm across your lower back.

    Savage just glanced back and forth between the two of you, computing what had happened in the week he had been away.

"You two.. uh." Maul cut him off by turning on his heel with his hands behind his back looking at him over his shoulder.

"Some things have changed others have not Savage. What hasn't changed is that we will need an army to take our revenge and bring down the jedi. If my memory serves me correctly there are Weekquay pirates who can be paid to become loyal to our cause. Our next move is to acquire their services. We have much headway to cover. Your sister apprentice has made enough headway in her fighting skills to be battle ready.”

    Maul made his way back to the transport leaving Savage to blink at you slowly pointing at his brother's back with a confused look on his face. You giggled in response and linked your arm in his, waving goodbye to Angel possibly for the last time before boarding.

    It wasn't a long trip to the Sertar sector. It gave you enough time to excitedly fill in Savage on your experiences on Corellia and Malachor. Of course, he tried to ask about you and Maul under hushed breath but you only waggled your eyebrows at him. Eliciting a both a breathy chuckle followed by a slightly disgusted groan.

    Your master stayed in the cockpit most of the journey in thought. Thanking the Maker that you were on good terms with his brother, although he did have to fight occasional jealous pangs at your closeness. It was better that you two were friendly. When the planet Florrum came into view he readied the three of you for the next step of your adventure.

[yourfavwriter]

Mark but make it jealous

Tag: @floweringtheflowers IM SORRY I TOOK FOREVER BUT I WAS SO BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND EVERYTHING ILY BAE IM SO SORRY IF IVE LET YOU DOWN WITH THIS 😔

Summary: Mark was usually all soft and sweet to you, who knew what getting coffee would do to the man.

Notes: smut so if you're not into that don't read it, dom Mark and sub reader, reader is female

You breathed in the scent of fresh steaming coffee and sweet cake as you held Marks warm hand in yours. As you walked up to the cashier you kept repeating your order in your head making sure not to mess up.

"Hello what can I do for you guys today" the cashier asked only quickly glancing at Mark as he studied your face taking in your sparkly eyes and plump, soft lips.

"Hi can I have one tall iced coffee with sugar and cream? Also some caramel on top." You said. You watched as the cashier typed away on his little board.

"Okay one tall iced coffee for the lovely lady, what about you sir" Mark stirred uncomfortably at the flirty remarks of the cashier but as to not start anything big went along with it.

"Hey yeah I just want a small black coffee." The cashier nodded and typed away at the register.

"Okay that brings your total to $10.45." you attempted to slip your hand away from Mark's to grab your purse but before you could Mark took out his credit card and payed instead. "Hey I said I was gonna pay!" You whispered looking at Mark. He smiled,

"Too late I already did" you pouted and went back to staring at all the cakes on display as you waited for your drinks.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick" Mark said pulling his hand away from yours you nodded still staring at all the cakes.

"So is he your boyfriend or something?" You heard the cashier ask. You were taken aback by the question since it had come out of nowhere but you simply smiled.

"Yes he is"

"Ahh I see." He side clicking his tongue

"You seem to be out of his league if I'm being honest with you, you're very beautiful you deserve a real man." Your smile slowly faded off your face and you cleared your throat trying to ignore his attempts to get with you.

"Awe come on don't ignore me now I was playing with you. But if you ever get tired of him just know I'm free whenever you need me." As he finished his sentence he slid you a napkin with his number on it. You looked towards the bathroom trying to find Mark only for him to be no where in sight.

"Here's your coffees have a nice day and don't forget to call me" the cashier said winking after. You grabbed the drinks and took them to a table to wait for Mark making sure to throw out the napkin he gave you on the way. As you waited for Mark you impatiently tapped your feet until

"Hey babe"

"Hey Mark can we leave now?"

"Uh sure" Mark was confused on why you were so nervous but thought it was just the jitters, public settings weren't always the best for you so he understood. You suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder and you knew who it was. Before you could turn around and tell him to leave you alone he spoke up,

"I noticed you threw the other napkin away so here's another napkin" you an Mark turned in sync to look at the chaser who was now holding out another napkin with his phone number and name clearly written on it. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Mark fuming.

"Uhm that's sweet of you but-"

"She has a boyfriend dude back off" Mark said now wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Uh yeah but she could probably use my number just in case you know." You internally face-palmed as embarrassment filled your body. Mark scoffed before he replied back with anger

"Thanks for the offer but I'm all she needs."

"I was just playing around bro don't take it to the heart." The cashier said before he gave Mark a light punch on the shoulder and walked away. Mark grabbed your wrist and led you out of the coffee shop and to your car. You caught one last glimpse of the cashier as Mark dragged you out of that hell hole and he simply smirked at you, you were now angry too for the man to flirt so shamelessly with you. The whole ride home was silent you only quietly sipped on your coffee in case anything you said angered him further.

"So you wanna explain what that was back there?" Mark asked as soon as you stepped foot through the door. You slowly turned to look at him in disbelief, almost laughing at his question.

"I don't think I have to explain anything you saw that cashier flirting with me."

"And you did nothing to stop him" you were now not only angry and the cashier but Mark too.

"You act like I was flirting with him"

"You might as well have been you were all 'awweee i have a boyfriend maybe flirt with me while he's not looking'" Mark said mocking your voice and even going as far as to bat his eyelashes.

"Okay Mark what the fuck? I was declining his offer gently as to not make a big deal but you act as if I was cheating on you?"

"You could've been more firm with your words since he obviously wasn't getting the point"  

"I was trying to be nice what did you want me to slap him infront of everyone or something?"

"Uhm kind of!" Mark said throwing his hands in the air as if it were the obvious route to take.

"I seriously can't believe you right now some creep was hitting on me right infront of you and you blame me for not being stern enough with him when you did nothing!" You raised your voice obviously pissed now.

"I'm the one who got you out of there!" Mark said also raising his voice now.

"I wish he was the one getting me out of there" you mumbled under your breath apparently loud enough to Mark to hear.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say." He said clenching his teeth trying his best to keep his calm. You decided to tease him as pay back for his blaming your innocent self.

"I said 'i wish he was the one getting me out of there' did you not hear me the first-" you were cut off when Mark suddenly pushed you up against the wall, his face mere inches away from yours.

"So you wanna act up now?" He said pinning your wrists against the wall. You nodded smiling just to anger him further. He scoffed and looked away for a second.

"Oh you're so in for it tonight." He leaned in to kiss you but your turned your face at the last second still not done with your teasing.

"I see how it is" Was the last thing you heard before he threw you over his shoulder and took you straight to the bedroom. You tried flailing your arms and legs

"Mark let me go!" You whined not actually meaning it but saying it just to see his reaction (remember consent is key children if someone says no or to stop mid-action respect their wishes) he simply ignored all your poor attempts to escape and went on his merry way. When he entered the bedroom he dropped you on the mattress and immediately got in top of you.

He kissed you roughly for a bit before leaving a hot trial of kisses down your jaw and onto your neck, making sure to such hickeys on to your neck.

You sighed in pleasure which didn't last long, next thing you knew he was practically trying to rip your top off of you after getting frustrated with the buttons. You giggled to yourself before moving his hands and undoing the buttons yourself. After your shirt was taken care of he reached around your back and unclipped your bra with one single movement, exposing your chest to him.

You were expecting him to start massaging or playing with your breasts like he usually did but instead he went to unbutton your jeans, it did catch you by surprise but he was still angry at you and angry Mark means no foreplay.

He was having trouble figuring out your jeans to which you helped him yet again and as soon as he could he threw your jeans across the room, panties still on.

He quickly rose to his feet and undressed himself leaving only his boxers on, you bit your lip at the sight infront of you. Mark knelt on the bed and turned your body so that you were now on your stomach. Before you could ask what he was doing he put you face down, ass up in the air. You felt his hand rub against your smooth ass and relished the feeling of him being gentle before he released all his anger and stress on you.

Just as you were about to make some snarky remark about him being so gentle after all his roughness he spanked you. You jolted at the sudden noise and felt a stinging pain.

"Ow Mark that hurt!"

"Did i say you could speak?" He asked in a low voice. His voice was scarly calm compared to his actions which confused you.

"No but-"

"Then be quiet." You immediately shut your mouth and surrendered to his touch. He spanked you once, twice, three times, 4 times, and one last time.  By the time he was done your eyes were threatening to spill out a river of tears and your knees were just about to give out. Mark held you steady in place and pushed your panties to the side exposing your already dripping core.

"You really get this turned on just by me being angry?" Mark said while chuckling. You whined eager to feel him inside you and he complied. Mere seconds later you felt him enter you and immediately start pouring into you, not letting you adjust to his size.

"Mark! Slow..slow down" you stuttered trying to hold yourself together. He only went faster and pounded deeper into you, tempting you to let out the sinful sounds he always loved to hear from you. You moaned and whimper so close to orgasming before Mark pulled out. He quickly flipped you over so that you were on your back and entered you again before you could let out any words. The sound of both you and mark moaning and your skin slapping made you come undone in his hands.

"I'm gonna..." You trailer off seeing stars as you closer your eyes.

"You're gonna cum aren't you?" Mark said all cockily only he could fuck you this good and only he could get you to be a whimpering mess with just his light touches. You nodded vigorously. You came with Mark still inside of you and when he felt you walls clench around him he pulled out cumming all over your thighs. You panted and closed your eyes close to sleeping when you heard his voice right next to you now.

"Don't fall asleep yet princess I'm not done with you just yet."

[mandoinevarro]

Red Steam Part II

If you want context and even more bullshit read Part 1 here.

Words: 4.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: Mentions of violence, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: thank god there are so many synonyms for “steam” 

It was only after he bribed the middle-aged Twi’lek clerk—who eyed the credits he set on her desk unimpressed, only to pocket them after an exaggerated sigh—and followed her up a cramped flight of stairs and along the dark, mazelike hallways of the second floor of the healing baths, that the Mandalorian found himself in front of the narrow black door that hid his bounty. Apparently.

The clerk’s molars chewed on a wooden toothpick while she fumbled with the key ring on her hip that rattled metallically with every step. She took her sweet time inspecting key by key and seemed unfazed by the waves of moans and the banging on walls that floated out of closed doors.

“Think he only brought a girl or two with him,” the Twi’lek mumbled as she took out a key from the bunch and held it close to her eyes. After a nod, she inserted it in the keyhole.

Mando scoffed. Only a girl or two. Like the kid hadn’t fucked himself into enough trouble already.

The clerk turned the doorknob, pushed it inwards and headed back to her station. Over her shoulder, she barked at the Mandalorian, “Make it quick.”

Yeah, he intended to.

That was about an hour ago.

The whole place is trashed. Mando gets up from the floor panting and clutching his bruised ribs. Something’s broken for sure. He limps towards his rival, who sits angry and defeated on a bed of splinters that confettied out of cracked staircase balusters when Mando was thrown against them and fell to the ground level. With painful movements, his heavy boot kicks the blaster from his adversary’s reach and picks it up.

It wasn’t his quarry who came after him hard when Mando barged into the little love nest. One moment the poor kid was begging for his orgasm, the next he was ripping his lungs at the sight of the bounty hunter and tugging desperately at the fluffy mock handcuffs that attached him to the bedposts.

The girl who was jacking him off, though. She didn’t even give the hunter a second’s noticed before she lunged towards him, effectively tackling and disarming him. She fought the beskar-clad man fiercely and barefoot in a flimsy pink robe, until he decided that enough was enough and scorched what remained of the balusters to a crisp. And then he pointed the flamethrower at her. The pink figure begrudgingly raised her hands in surrender and slumped on the floor after that.

But her eyes are not exactly waving white flags when Mando throws the strongest pair of shackles he owns on her lap and orders her to cuff herself. She glares up at him and wraps them around her wrists, but not before she spits, “Fuck you. Fuck. You. My father’s gonna kill him.”

Mando tongues a dent that he bit inside his cheek. This was supposed to be the easy job, damnit. He was going to find the quarry, tell him the girl’s family wanted his head, and take him back to the ship with not a scratch on the beskar. Easiest money he’d ever make. He wasn’t counting on said girl being with the bounty, much less her fighting like some trained assassin on spice. Stars, the galaxy’s getting stranger by the day.

Once the girl is done, she shakes her bound wrists in the air to get her captor’s attention. He bends down to yank the cuffs, pulling the feral young woman attached to them on her feet. The effort makes needles pierce his injured muscles.  

Maker, he’d been so sure it’d be some painless in-and-out job that he’d let you come along with him.

His grip on the cuffs falters.

He forgot. He forgot you came to the healing baths with him. Disappeared into the first floor corridors, saying you needed to “relax”. Could you still be here? Somewhere along the rows of steaming pools and massage rooms. Or maybe you hurried outside with the stampede of half-naked women he saw rush away from the healing baths.

No. No, if he had seen you run wet and covered only by the almost see-through cloth like the rest of the clients, he’d remember. He’d definitely remember.

The girl tugs insistently at the handcuffs, testing their strength.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He shouldn’t think about you ever. But. There’s something about imagining you dripping with a tissue-thin textile plastered on your figure that makes him forget the cut in his mouth.

“We fucking love each other.” The prisoner’s squeal snaps him out of his reverie. He drags her to what remains of the stairs. He’ll take the quarry, find you, and leave for good. “We only want each other, we crave for each other.” Yeah, he’ll find you and go back to the Crest. Back to barely speaking to you. Back to silently craving for you. “I’ve never felt anything like the pleasure when he slides into my—”

“Okay, I get it,” the Mandalorian snarls. Maker, he can’t stand Core World snobs. He’ll just take the bounty and find you and go. He’ll just—

“You get it?” The girl stops dead on her tracks at the foot of the stairs. She looks him up and down in indignation. “You get it? You glorified gonk droid. What could scrap metal get about passion?”  The cuffs twist away from his grip as their master climbs a couple of charred steps. Before Mando can take her back in his custody, she turns around to face him, chin up, back straight, and towering over him. Too confidently for someone in shackles. She looks down on the visor with eyes so squinted her pupils look like horizontal lines. “What could you get about desire?”

That…that hits a nerve. Plenty, he wants to growl at her, even though she’s obviously just trying to taunt him. He knows plenty about obsessive lust that leaves room for little else. He’s known for a while that the reason he locks himself inside his quarters pulling pathetically at his stiff cock is not just an outlet for pent of stress. He’s come to accept that it is always your image that his psyche sneaks into his mind when his thumb circles the head. As guilty and disgusting as it makes him feel, he’s aware of the fact that every bead of precum belongs to you. That when he bursts into his glove he wants nothing more but to smear it all over your lovely face.

Still. There’s a little voice poking the back of his head and whispering that the girl is right. That someone who’s spent a lifetime with physical and emotional barriers separating him from all stimuli cannot possibly know genuine want. Even worse, maybe you have that idea of him. Maybe you don’t believe there’s flesh beneath the armor either.

His chest shrinks with a drawn out sigh as if he were the one defeated as he grabs the captive by the arm before she can get any further. He’ll just…just take the quarry…and find you—

Almost as a summoning, the syrupy density of your voice plops into his ears in a shape that feels like his name. The pounding against his chest quickens as he turns and ghosts a hand over his blaster. Waiting. Listening.

A high pitched whine drills a hole through one of the more secluded doors in a corner, urgent and upset.

You’re in danger.

The Mandalorian jerks the girl down from the couple of steps that she climbed, a little tougher than he intended. His neck is warm and the biting pain on his sides becomes an afterthought. One swift movement is all it takes to undo one ring of the usually complicated handcuffs. He spots a pillar and forces the prisoner’s arms to hug around it, securing the missing wristlet once her smalls hands meet at the opposite end.

“Hey!” she calls after the hunter, who is already stalking towards the cornered door. “Hey, you can’t leave me here, what—”

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you come. He should’ve made you stay on the Crest like always. If something happens to you…

The Mandalorian draws his blaster and pushes the dark door open.

Hot, humid steam trails outside to welcome him, clouding his visor. He wipes it poorly with the back of his glove and steps inside. The heavy door falls shut behind him.

At first, all he sees is red. An angry, flaming crimson that dances around the black chamber and immediately draws strings of perspiration from his pores. Slowly, the smog thins and revels a bulky cube in the middle of the room. As well as another, smaller silhouette to its left, from where the restrained mewls are coming from.

Mando sheathes the blaster and steps closer to the figure, carefully, trying to make out what it is. Once he finds himself right between it and the table, he distinguishes the contour of a head. The mist dilutes and the desperate features of your face come to life under the hunter’s fascinated gaze. Your whole face looks like a crumpled piece of paper in an expression that falls just short of pain. Your eyes are wrenched shut and two fingers are shoved into your mouth. When a wide tongue licks them with lazy strokes, Mando feels the cloth over his crotch shrink.

Eyes wander lower, revealing a layer of sweat over your collarbone and…and…

The Mandalorian thinks the fall must have damaged his brain, because he only puts two and two together once he follows a droplet from your sternum to your heaving breasts. It hangs on to one peaked nipple before letting go and sliding down the line of your arm, down, down, down, getting fatter as it absorbs other smaller beads. It curls around your hand and finishes its journey once it falls from a finger. A finger drawing erratic circles around your clit.

If Mando thought it was hot inside the cave before…well, now he’s certain the seething thrill that rushes from his head to his toes and swells in his lower half is going to kill him. The potent punch of his heart is breaking more ribs than the girl did, and he can’t remember what exactly was hurting in his mouth when he runs his own tongue over cracked lips. His cock is draining all the blood and attention from the rest of his body, swelling bigger and bigger.

Of course he fucking knows he should leave. Walk out of the chamber, wait for you to finish, and take care of his own needs in some lonely corner back inside the Razor Crest. But, suddenly, one leg stretches and your foot sweeps over his cuisse.

Fuck, he can tell you’re close. Your thighs shake and the moans get louder and he really needs to get out. His knees start uncramping reluctantly, buying him some time to be able to at least see you come undone. Until you cry, “S-stars, Mando…!”

Did…did he hear you right?

Was that—?

Did you—?

Your fingers halt abruptly and ease out of both of your openings. Disappointment grabs Mando’s heart before panic crushes it. Shit, did you realize he’s here?

He takes a step back.

Wet eyelashes flutter a few times before your eyes open fully. They’re glossy as they look straight ahead. A finger wipes the vapor off the beskar. Your face moves along his body until your attention focuses on his visor and lingers.

The red light prevents him from knowing whether you’re blushing or not, but his cheeks sure as hell light up with shame underneath the helmet. He feels gravity pull his legs with more strength, holding him down in his place and making him face the consequences of his invasion

Still, his glove wraps around your wrist and gently pulls it away.

“I…I’m sorry,” the embarrassed hunter finally croaks out, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I heard you outside and thought…” He shakes his head and sighs. There’s no excuse for this. “I should’ve left. I’m sorry.”

All throughout his excuse of an apology you stare up at him panting. Your pupils are so wide your irises almost disappear behind them. The leftover surprise of being interrupted pleasuring yourself still hangs on your expression, but something in front of you seems to catch your eye, and your features rearrange to confusion. You scoot to the edge of the bench. Your neck cranes up, placing your face directly below his crotch.

The hot breath from your open mouth warms his clothed balls and makes him flinch.

What? Why are you—? Maker, he wishes he knew what the hell you were doing, because he doesn’t think the seams of his pants can hold the way his shaft is pressing insistently against them. Your nose ghosts over his taint and he jumps back.

A pair of hands rests on the plates over his thighs. The remaining spit on your fingers smears on the beskar. You lick your lips until they glisten, and your head tilts to the side as you study his growing erection. Realization irons the puzzled wrinkles on your forehead and a smile pulls your plump lips softly.

“Could you,” you gasp breathlessly, and the Mandalorian knows the answer is yes before you finish, “could you help me?”

Mando…Mando glitches. He’s almost convinced the girl spiced him and his subconscious is borrowing from his archive of filthy fantasies of you to produce the most obscene hallucination possible. Regardless, reality or illusion, you sit soaked and perfectly bare with your face half-wedged under his crotch. Waiting for an answer.

“I, uh. Um.” He gulps. “Uh, h-help you?”

“Uh-huh,” you purr. One hand resting on his cuisse trails up to palm the tent forming in his pants. Mando hisses. You smile. “Help me pick up where I left off.” Your other hand goes back to its place between your legs.

Staring straight into the lines of his visor, you draw languid circles around your bud.

The helmet feels incredibly heavier on his spine. Your finger pushes into your clit and you gasp.

This isn’t real. The hypnotic red vapor fogs his vision and senses with a dreamlike dimness. You look ethereal behind it, like you’ll turn to steam as soon as he reaches out. He’s going to open his eyes in the cockpit of the Crest hard and alone, like always. He’s going to climb down to the hull and see you and try his best to avoid you. He’s going to wake up from the best dream he’s ever had; from the gorgeous curves of your body open and ready for him.

But. But you’re still here. Delusion or not, you’re still dipping your fingers inside your cunt, inviting him to partake. To prove himself human underneath his layers of barriers. And who can blame him, if he indulges in the one thing he’s wanted for months. Even if he will wake up from this.

Without a second thought, Mando rips both gloves off his hands and throws them into the mist enveloping your bodies. Your sweet smile widens when he wraps his hands around your shoulders and massages the moist flesh. You answer by giving his bulge a faint squeeze. But the Mandalorian has little patience for teasing, and he’s not sure when exactly he’s going to be ripped from this dream.  

“Wait,” the modulated voice orders. “Stand up. Please.” You obey, grabbing him for support to avoid falling on the slippery floor. His palms land on your waist, spreading the sweat there. Stars, you feel wonderful.

“Do you want to, uh…” Somehow, he still can’t bring himself ask, so he pulls you closer, so that his erection presses against your belly.

Biting your lip, you look up at him and nod eagerly. Small fingers press between your bodies to unbutton his pants and explore inside. You hum when you feel how hard he already is for you and scoop his throbbing cock out of its prison. “Please.”

Mando grabs your hips and spins you until you’re between him and the table. He pushes you against its side. The fronts of your thighs hit the black surface and you hiss at the contact, but he barely hears you.

He feels buckets of perspiration pouring down his back and chest, hot and heavy wool sticks to his skin, and there’s barely any breathable air slipping below the helmet anymore. But there’s only you. There’s only you and your shifting shoulder blades and  the elegant curve of your spine and your ass, all tinged the color of blood and soaked with the liquified version of the mysterious substance floating around in the air. The pains that overwhelmed his body are long forgotten.  

The fingers of his right hand spread apart from each other and snake up your back so they can feel your silky skin under his.

You shudder.

Fuck, is this was the girl outside was talking about? Right now, tense and painfully hard and high on the sensation of your soft, sweaty skin against his calloused hands, he feels just as foolish as his quarry. Just as likely to beg for anything you’re willing to offer.

Rough fingers push wet strings of hair to the side and grab your neck. He likes how thin it is around his large palm. How the tips of his fingers almost meet when they circle you. He pushes it down.

When your tits brush the surface you flinch and pull back.

“It—it’s c-cold,” you stutter as you try to look over your shoulder at him, but the grip on your neck is steel-strong and he can’t bring himself to soften it. “It’s freezing, Mando.”

Normally, he’d let go. Normally, he’d drop his hand immediately and apologize meekly. Normally, he would’ve walked away the second he caught you pleasuring yourself and would’ve pathetically gotten himself off to your image back in the Crest, like he’s done so many times, and would’ve never brought it up again.

But here, he has you right where he’s wanted you for months. Right now, he needs to prove to himself and to you that there’s hot red blood running through his veins. That below beskar and wool, he desires just like everyone else. Even more.

Especially when it comes to you.

So he doesn’t let go.

With a stronger grip, he forces you down until your chest is flush against the icy table and keeps you still.

“Fuck,” you nearly sob.

The Mandalorian steps closer to you and flattens the backs of your legs and ass with his cuisses. You whimper at the contact like you did with the table, but the cries turn to moans when he starts rubbing his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

Every nerve in his body tenses like a stretched rubber band at the sensation. Your ass is so fucking drenched he doesn’t even need to spit on it to allow his rock-solid cock to glide against you. Your hips push back and you try to meet his movements, but his thighs just crush you closer to the side of the table.  

He won’t look down. He won’t—he can’t, or he’ll lose it right there. He’s certain he’ll cum right then and there if he so much as peeks at what his doing to you. Or worse, he’ll wake up.

He looks down.

It takes every scrap of his self-control not to spill his cum all over your back at the visual. Your glistening body is folded over the table. Your arms hang next to your legs. Your nails scratch the dark rock desperately. The turbid red steam makes you blurry, like an apparition. As surreal as the mental images he conjures of you sometimes, when the ship is empty and he chases his relief inside the hard clutch of his fist. Only now, the long, husky moans you’re letting him hear are as clear as daylight, the scent of sex and sweat radiating off both of you sticks to his nostrils, and the way your body writhes against his are making him harder and more frantic by the second.

This isn’t a dream. It’s you and he has you all to himself.

He can’t wait any longer.

Mando releases your neck and brings both hands down to your ass. He massages and kneads the plump meat there. His teeth grit together to stop a needy groan from pushing past them. Tough fingers spread your cheeks and hold them open. You turn your face to the side.

“Please,” you suddenly spit out, your back curling and flattening almost involuntarily, “oh, fucking stars, Mando, just—just put it inside, just pl—”

The heat of his cock teasing your folds cuts you off. The Mandalorian inhales what little oxygen he can get and sheathes himself inside you in one strong movement. You cry out and he groans like nobody can hear either of you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why are you so tight? You’re—you’re—

“So wet,” he hears himself slur. The red haze of the room spins around him. He sounds drunk.  “Why—who could be this fu-fucking tight and b-beautiful—I—” Mando manages to swallow the last few words. Now is not time for them. Instead, he pulls back. His cock eases outside almost completely, leaving only the head inside. Then he buries himself again, slowly, grinding into you and letting you feel how every vein of his shaft pulses against your slick walls. He works up a paused pace as he spreads your cheeks further apart and dips his helmet to see how he’s stretching you.

Your arms lift to your sides to clutch the opposite end of the surface. You’re making the deepest, most arousing sounds he’s ever heard. You take him with a throaty mmm or a trembling ahhh that make his chest collapse with embarrassing gasps that he’s trying so hard to suppress. But your boiling pussy clenches tighter and he can’t help choking on the heated vapor that dances under the helmet and drips on his facial hair.  

“It’s you—ngh,” you finally answer. “I think of you al—always.” His hips falter at the sound of your voice. “I g-get so wet just im—magining what you—˝ Almost as a reflex, he pushes roughly into you and you cut yourself off with a high whimper.

You can’t finish your sentence. You don’t have to. What you said is enough to scramble Mando’s brains like eggs and flick a switch inside him he didn’t know was there.

Maker, he shouldn’t go faster. He shouldn’t overwhelm you. What if he hurts you? But your confession seems to thicken the mist that’s clouding his visor and restraint. Stars, you think about him just like he thinks of you. Maybe there were nights you would both touch yourselves simultaneously to the thought of each other in your separate quarters. What would you imagine? How long has it been going on?

He doesn’t remember releasing your ass nor burying his fingers into your dripping hair. He didn’t even realize how faster and more brutal his thrusts got all of a sudden until he hears how you trade your long, vibrating moans for short mewls that sound like his cock is puncturing them out of you.

And he should stop and he should ask you what you want and he should apologize for being rough and he should be doing so many things that he just can’t fucking bring himself to do when he feels you squeezing around him like you want him to be that much of a fucking savage with you. So he picks up the pace.

Through the haze, though, he manages to glue a couple of broken words together. “Th-this o-okay? Y-you—fuck—it—it fee-l good?” He sounds like he doesn’t even know fucking Basic, but you’re apparently fluent in whatever primitive language he just spoke, because you nod fervently, your cheek still pressed to the cold rock.

Your mouth gapes like it’s trying to suck the words you need from the fog around you and drool spills from your pretty lips. You only manage to breathe out, “Harder.”

Harder he goes, tangling the fist on your hair more tensely until it pulls your neck up. His other hand shoves your thighs and digs around your folds until he finds a hard nub that he rubs up and down quickly. The feeling makes you clamp down so compactly around his swollen shaft that he has to put his back into his thrusts to be able to push in. Still, he manages to slide inside with the help of your arousal and his precum and the sweat of your bodies and whatever the fuck is vaporized in the room. Every thrust shoves your whole body forwards and makes the edge of the table dig more violently into your hips. But you’re not complaining. Your irises are rolled as back as they’ll go into your skull and your companion is not sure you can even hear yourself moaning for him anymore.

Mando is going to black out. He’s sure he’s going to pass the fuck out. He can’t breathe and you’re repeating his name like a prayer and he can tell you’re close and his cock is just begging for release. A cooler breeze brushes the edge of the helmet. He keeps opening you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

His ears ring with light metallic clinks and you’re muttering incomprehensible gibberish and he clenches his jaw when he makes out the words “I” and “cum” and he can’t believe his fucking luck and his balls pull up to announce that he’s also almost there and—

“I thought I said,” a sudden, chastising voice cuts the dense steam like it’s butter, “to make it quick.”

You both jump at the interruption. Mando’s heart and movements halt as adrenaline shoots into his blood and he looks around the brume for the intruder.

The Twi’lek clerk stands near the door, squinting to make out what exactly is going on in the steaming room. You both stare at her stupidly—Mando still buried deep inside you—as she swats the fog like a swarm of flies she can scare away with her palm.

Finally, the cloud dissipates enough for her eyes to focus on the erotic sight before her.

She doesn’t even look surprised. She simply chews on her soggy toothpick annoyed and rolls her eyes, like this is just another day at work for her.

“We literally rent rooms for that,” she grouses exasperated while pointing a long finger to the roof  like she’s talking to two idiots, “upstairs.”  

[anninhiliation]

Worn Out Jeans

Masterlist

Word Count: 1357 oops

Disclaimer: THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL WRITING. You do not have the right or consent to copy my work and claim it as your own. You do not have the right to even copy my work. I can and will publicly shame you. Changing the boy is still plagiarism. Write your own work. Don’t test me or karma. Don’t be a useless leech.

Warnings: 18+ its smut!

You were about to walk right past Richard to take your spot back on the couch. But his eyes dilated in pure black lust as he couldn’t help but stare at your ass. Your leggings were so tight and smooth it was almost as if you had on nothing but a second skin. His ultimate weakness, right in front of him.

“Come here baby girl” Richard groaned, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap. 

“What’s up babe” you smiled turning your head leaning into him.

“What’s up?” he smirked, hands already grabbing the sides of your ass, kneading the flesh that spilled through “what’s up with this?” 

“My leggings?” you teased smiling at him rocking your hips into him.

Richard groaned at your movements and pulled you closer to him letting you feel his hardening bulge. Your back pressed against his chest as your lips quickly parted releasing little sounds of pleasure. Richard nipped your ear making his way down to your neck. His hair felt soft between your fingertips as you tugged. 

“Richard,” you whined out, growing needier and needier. 

The familiar cologne intoxicated your senses as air trapped in your lungs. His warm breath fanning over sensitive skin before physically touching you had you floating on a cloud. One hand roamed your body as the other caged you in keeping you as close as possible. Electric waves were sent down to your core with every touch Richard left on you.  

“You really thought I wouldn’t do anything with you looking that good?” Richard growled in your ear. 

All you could do is whine out in response as your brain fogged in pleasure. His deep voice had your heart fluttering as your slit throbbed harder. Richard’s hand slowly moved down between your legs. His fingers slid under your leggings and panties as your reflexes spread your thighs open giving him easier access. Richard smirked against your neck as his finger parted your slit toying with the excess arousal. Your hips squirmed against the pads of his fingers trying to get him where you needed him most. Already wanting more and more of his delicious touch.

“Daddy” you whined out, knowing what that single word did to him. 

Especially when you used it in such a desperate, needy voice. Richard groaned hearing you plea for him. It stuffed his ego, hearing you say, daddy. With full knowledge, he was the only one who got to see you like this, who was the only one to make you feel this good. Your head rested on his shoulder, as the pleasure made your body move against him. Richard showed your clit no mercy drawing your favorite pattern. Your lower abdomen muscles squeezed themselves tightly with the sheer pleasure.

“M- more” you whined out as your empty hole pulsated around nothing. 

The tight fabric restraining Richards’s full control quickly annoyed him, as he let out a low groan. He stopped toying with your swollen clit as he pulled out quickly licking his fingers clean. He grabbed the elastic waistline and you squirmed on his lap helping yourself out of your leggings and panties. The fabric fell to the ground and Richard spread his legs wider, adjusting you on his lap. Your swollen clit rested on his jeans as your thighs caged in his upper thigh. Your hands wrapped around his knee cap as Richard grabbed your hips.  His fingers dug into your hips as he guided you against the rough fabric of his worn-out black jeans. Richard moved you in a way that had you seeing stars. Your hole clenching and tightening around nothing as pleasure built up inside you. Heat rose from your body as his lips marked out your weakest points.

“That feel good baby girl?” Richard grinned as he tugged on the shell of your ear, his fingers digging in deeper into your flesh. 

The answer was obvious just by how much louder you became. Nothing but moans and his name broken into incoherent whines fell from your lips. But hearing you struggle to even speak only riled him up more. 

“Y-yes” you choked out.

“Yes, what?” He taunted slowing down his movement.

His teeth nipped your neck as he waited to hear the magical word. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the slow movements were only enough to keep you riled up and drenched but nothing more. Your clit dragging slowly along his thigh had your head spinning. 

“Da- mmm” you whined out trying to choke out what he wanted to hear. 

“Dah-mmm- ah- d” Your head was turned to the side pleading with him to go back to the old movements. 

His dick throbbed harder feeling a wet patch soak through the fabric. Richard grew a little impatient wanting you to finish as soon as possible for the real fun to begin.

“Good girl” Richard praised moving your hips in a smooth and quicker pace.

You harshly tugged on his curls as your hole pulsated with the build-up of pleasure. Mouth hung open as Richard had you floating on a cloud. Your breathing hitched in your lungs as your walls tightly clenched one last time. Your thighs shook around him as your clit began to have enough. The tight knot snapped inside you, throwing you straight into the galaxy. His name mixed with a song of curses vibrated out of your lungs as your head rolled back. Richard rode you out, gently bringing you back down to earth pecking your neck in kisses. You panted as the air returned to your lungs, trying to regain that even momentum once again. Leaning down to pick up your leggings came to an abrupt halt. 

“Wait baby I need to feel that pretty little hole” Richard groaned into your neck feeling as if his dick would explode any second with how hard his dick throbbed. 

You nodded your head yes as you stood up and helped release his bulge. Grabbing his base you gave him a few strokes before going back on his lap. His moans going straight to your core giving you a new coat of arousal. Caging in his thighs and aligning his tip you slowly sunk down. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as Richard grabbed your hips setting a fast and hungry pace. 

“Fuck your so tight baby” He moaned.

You wrapped around his shaft perfectly making him see stars. Richard’s face contoured in pleasure with every thrust. You leaned in kissing his soft lips, swallowing a majority of his moans. His sounds of pleasure only riled you up more. Changing the pattern you grinded down on him, keeping him balls deep inside you for a brief moment. Reaching back you massage his balls as you moved your hips, keeping his shaft stimulated. Richard let out a string of curses at the added stimulation. His head shooting back in pure bliss had you clenching around him. Going back to riding him, Richard began to take over. He knew your body like the back of his hand and knew he could get you seeing more stars then you already were. He quickly angled his hips so his tip would massage your weakest point with every thrust. You were back on cloud nine as your breathing once again hitched. His name that you sang like a prayer lost its coherency. You broke the kiss as your mind fogged in pleasure once more. Eyes rolled back as every thrust tied a knot inside you tighter and tighter. The first orgasm ensured you wouldn’t last as long as normal. Feeling you pulsate, had Richard nearing his own orgasm. He was already so riled up, throbbed for so long that he was already twitching inside you. His balls squeezing into themselves as cum filled up. Not long after, white strings shot up inside you, filling you up nicely. Your knot snapped as he was mid orgasm. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as you floated around the clouds. Your fingers laced around the back of his neck as you kissed him one last time. 

“Fuck that was so good” you smiled. 

~~~~~~~

A/N: I havent written anything long or a fic in a long time and I honestly dont really like this all that much, edited and edited but I figured post it, write something else and maybe down the line the flow or a new flow will come back to me. It could also be that Im kinda annoyed at the Joel and Richard fued so like yea I wouldnt wanna fuck him rn lol. Okay have a beautiful day or sweet dreams. 

[cosplayinamerica]

Summer & Snuffles from Rick & Morty // Cosplayers: eileen.chase & aachase1401

So, how did you come up with Snuffles exo-suit?

SNUFFLES IS MY SLAVE NAME!  YOU MAY CALL ME SNOWBALL BECAUSE MY FUR IS PRETTY AND WHITE!.......It's a pretty awesome character and one of my favorite TV shows.  I always loved Snowball, probably because I love dogs so much. 

Coming up with the logistics of a costume that isn't really proportional to a human person was a challenge. I figured the best way was with a black puppeteer suit and to create the illusion of a non humanoid.  The LION KING Broadway show did this really well with the animal puppets.  So that really helped inspire me to go that route.  

Luckily, cosplayers before me have come up with great builds that served as source material to chose from.  I had lots of cosplays to reference when it came to the over sized hand puppets.  Keegan Sommer and his dad did a Liberty Prime cosplay last year and were kind enough to send me some build photos of the arms.  For the legs I used various Velociraptor costumes as inspiration.  The head was tricky, I got lucky that my idea worked.......barely worked.  I finally got it to work the morning of Con!

That exo suit looks like it took time to put together! Could you talk about it?

I started with a base.  A cardboard box for the torso with arm and leg holes, and jumped off from there.  I did a small mock up of the legs to try out joint movements, and get the positions correct before I put together the PVC skeleton. 

The joints were made of PVC....fun fact, when making a pin for joints...USE A BOLT!  the wire i used initially snapped under the weight 20 min before contest judging.  THANK THE STARS FOR MEGACON COSPITAL! 

They were a godsend and helped me fix the foot joint with a much thicker Pin. The structure around was expandable foam from the hardware store.  I covered the PVC in it and carved the foam down into the foot and calf shapes.The Hands were balsa wood and Insulation foam.  I made a base/grip for the glove that worked the outer fingers. 

The puppet fingers were made in three parts, with balsa wood, fishing line on the inside, and elastic on the outer side.  I put thimbles in the fingertips of the gloves to lessen the "give" of the string as it pulled. 

This part took a lot of tweaking to get the desired result.LEDs:  I had never worked with a soldering iron before, so I was worried about getting the lights to properly work.  So i took shortcuts where possible. lol.  The light in Snowballs Helmet is a twisty Tea light that people use for decor.  

The LEDs in the hands were strip LEDs that are used to decorate bedrooms and even came with a remote so i could change the color and pulse if I wanted too.  But I did end up doing some custom soldering that I'm very proud of.  The lights in both shoulders and collar are ones I put together.SNOWBALL: This was the most fun.  The centerpiece of the costume is what needed to be right.  Everything else could suck, but this had to be good. 

I've never needlefelted before, but I knew it was the best way to create a custom animal.  I really have to say, it's my new favorite hobby!  Seriously, it was an absolute blast creating this piece.   If you're looking to add a cute animal or felted piece to your cosplay, take up needlefelting!

 I've become a huge fan of the medium and was surprised at how easy it was to get used to, especially if you're already a sculptor.   Normally you can't really felt onto a piece of Styrofoam because the wool will just fall out.  But i needed the base to be solid for the puppetry to work, so what i did was glue felt pieces onto the styrafoam base and then felted a base layer of wool onto that felt.  It worked pretty well. 

The fur will never be as solid as if the entire piece was felted, but it worked well for this cosplay.   I build the face up the most, added glass eyes and a nose sculpted from thermoplastics.  The arms and legs were wire with wool wrapped around them. 

The helmet was an upside down bowl I found at Party City.  It was the size and color I needed, so i cut away until it looked like a visor attached to a shorter helmet, painted the non visor parts, added foam and then glued on some Dixie cups.  The light is just a party cup I thought looked cool.It's easier to describe the build process when i have the accompanying photos.  So i'll be creating a step by step guide on Instructables.com like I did with my Power Loader.  Hopefully it will make more sense, and other people who love the character can see my successes and mistakes and improve on the design.

Any interesting or funny response from congoers while walking around Megacon in the exo-suit?

Well, i made a child cry.......so there was that.   It was actually kind of cute.  He was fine until the head moved.  That spooked him.  Another funny thing was when my sister and I were filming a recreation of the "where are my testicals" scene and I accidentally hit her in the face because my vision is limited in the suit.

How has cosplay impacted your life since you’ve started cosplaying?

There's a great line in the book "The subtle art of not giving a f***"  That says we are happiest when we are setting goals for ourself and overcoming obstacles to achieve them.  It's a great feeling and I think if you have the chance to challenge yourself, go for it.  It's a great feeling that lasts well past Con even when all the attention has worn off.

 It's also great to learn new skills.  I learned how to work with electronics this time around, LEDs and many more that I'll continue to use outside cosplay.  The other ways it's affected me is by severely limiting the amount of closet space I have available..  Big cosplays take up big space. I'll probably need to get a storage unit at some point.

https://www.allisonchasemakeup.com/

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