#that said knowing there is a dedicated team of men in suits who sit in a circle pensively clasping their hands and popping tums like theyre

[lnfours]

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!” you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.

[cowvboyenema]

man im sliding you a fat fucking mug of honesty

frothy and hot as shit

i hit post three times and immediately got cozy as fuck

on that snork mimimimi shit

this shits embarrassing but im not the fun kind of famous i guess

whatever that shit you said about going full necro on some crows was probably the more interesting side that this could land on

you guys really dont talk that much on here, huh

[readerstories]

Magic Fingers - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

I got so many other ideas for fics with Aaron and male reader, this was just an excuse to write some “shorter” smut while I work on some longer fics. (AO3)

Warnings: smut, clothed sex

Wordcount: 2978

Summary: Working hard on a case you offer to give Hotch a massage, because the man is as stiff and tense as a block of wood. (And maybe you want to get your hands on him, but that’s neither here nor there).

The case had been hard, challenging, brutal, and difficult, which had caused the whole team to work on overdrive for the last few days with very little sleep. Which was why Hotch had ordered everyone back to the hotel to get some sleep, as none of you were going to get anywhere being as sleep deprived as you were.

He had tried to stay behind himself, but you had more or less dragged him back to a car while reminding him that even he was human and needed rest. Back at the hotel, in your shared room (because of course with your luck there wasn’t any single rooms left in the hotel for anyone in the team), you stretch before sitting down on your own bed, Hotch walking over to his.

You could see how tense he was, how much he needed to relax. Which was easier said then done when Hotch took as much responsibility as he did, always making sure everything possible was done to catch the unsub and save anyone who might get in harms way. Which was an admirable trait of his, but you could tell by his posture how stiff he had gotten over the last few days. The way he held himself spoke volumes to you, even though you knew he tried to shield it from the world and keep it to himself.

“Hotch?” He looks away from his jacket, the only item of his suit he has manged to force himself out of so far, while your jacket, shoes, and tie was long gone. You pat the edge of the bed next to where you are sitting, Hotch looks skeptical.

“Come on, you need to relax.”

“What does me sitting next to you have anything to do with that?”

“Let me give you a massage.” He raises a brow and you sigh, shifting so you’re kneeling on the bed instead.

“You’ve seen my resume, you know you I thought about going into massage therapy at one point.” Still, Hotch doesn’t move, so you know you have to do more to convince him.

“Remember when Reid had slept on his neck all wrong that one time after staying up way too late and I helped? Or when Morgan messed up his shoulder when going after an unsub and couldn’t sleep for days, and after a massage he finally could? It was the closest I’ve ever seen the man to weeping. Or when JJ was pregnant and hurting, but after letting me give her a massage she joked that if she didn’t love Will, and I wasn’t gay, she would have married me? Hotch, at this point I’ve given a massage to everyone on the team but you, so, get.”

You make a grabby motion with your hands. Hotch sigh, seeming to finally get how serious and stubborn you were being in that moment. He takes off his tie and shoes on the way over to the bed, but doesn’t do anything else, which makes everything a bit harder, but hey, you’ll take anything you’ll get. As Hotch sits down you’re greeted by the lovely opportunity to stare at his back without him noticing or caring too much, which would have been great, if you couldn’t tell how tense he was without even needing a single touch.

When you touch his shoulders he almost jumps, but he forces himself to calm down. Which doesn’t do much, because the instant your hands are on him you can tell it’s going to take a while and some effort to get him relax.

You slowly, ever so slowly start to move you hand, starting out gently at first to get a feeling for him. And ho boy, those are some serious knots if you’ve ever felt some. Your thumb barely brushes over one with some pressure and Hotch winces. You take a breath in trough your teeth, Hotch truly can’t be feeling any sort of pleasant right now, or really, ever you suppose.

“Hotch, if I really didn’t know any better, I would say your shoulders are made of wood with how stiff they are and how many knots I can feel.” Hotch grunts and starts to move like he’s about to stand up, but you drag him back down so he’s fully sitting again with your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh no, none of that, you’re not moving off this bed until all of them are gone and you can you know, actually be a little relaxed for once in your adult life.” Hotch scoffs, but doesn’t try to move again, which you count as a victory.

For the next, you don’t even know how long, your hands wander, squeeze, and press all over Hotch’s shoulders, loosing muscles and knots as good as you can while kneeling behind Hotch. Hotch is mostly quiet, only letting out sighs and the occasional grunt when an especially hard spot is made pliant.

When you’ve done as much as you can in this position you withdraw your hands, noting how Hotch is slumping slightly more forward now than he was when you started.

“Up the bed please, I can’t reach more like this.” Hotch turns so he can look at you over his shoulder.

“You’ve massaged my shoulders, what mor-”

“If your shoulders are any indication, you need a full body massage, so up on the bed please, front down.” You stare down Hotch, not breaking eye contact for one second. You’ve decided that he needs that massage, even if you have to tackle him to the bed to give it to him. He seems to have sensed this as he sighs, and above all miracles, does as you asked of him. He’s on his front, arms tucked under his head to use as a pillow, you now kneeling next to one hip.

Pleased with yourself, you get to work. You start where you left off from before, somewhere in the middle of his back. The knots there aren’t as bad as his shoulders, you suppose Hotch takes ‘bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders’ literally sometimes, but still you do your best to let your hands work over them until they are smoothed out and the muscles beneath your palms relax.

Over time your hands move downwards, and at some point right above the waist of his pants and his belt, your hands on either hip, they brush a particular point or points which make Hotch draw in a breath. Your hands pause before you speak.

“Sorry, you ticklish there?”

“A little.” Hotch reluctantly admits, mostly speaking at the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You say as you file that little nugget of info away in a part of your brain you’ve dedicated to Hotch. You make sure to avoid that spot when your hands starts up again, instead moving to his lower back. There you find a knot truly worth your skilled hands, taking several minutes before you can move your hands from that spot. You realize you’ve accomplished your goal there when Hotch lets out a loud groan as you fell his muscles loosen beneath your hands, which you gather was an involuntary sound by the slight redness on his cheeks.

“See, I told you I was good.” Hotch doesn’t responds verbally, but nods, eyes closed now. You don’t say anything else, instead moving to his legs. You start at one ankle, slowly, slowly moving your way upwards, careful not to go to high for both of your comfort. You can tell when that is by a small twitch on Hotch’s leg, just above where you can feel the start of his boxers through his pants, and then you move down. You do however at on point press on a muscle on the backside of his knee that causes the leg to move on its own, which causes you both to laugh.

When both legs are done, you take your hands off Hotch and lean back, noting how his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping.

“Turn around.” This causes Hotch to abruptly open his eyes and look at you for the first time since he laid down.

“What?”

“I haven’t done your front yet, and I’m not about to let you go with a half finished massage.”

“I-I’d rather not.” Looking over Hotch you quickly realize, with your profiling work and previous experience, why he’s not moving yet.

“If it’s an erection that’s nothing new.”

“Wha-”

“Your body is just reacting to stimuli, happens a lot with men, nothing I haven’t seen before. But if you really want to stop, we can of course do that.” You can see Hotch’s mind at war with himself. You say nothing, pretending that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall above the headboard.

It’s the movement of the mattress that alerts you to the fact that Hotch is moving, as the man himself says nothing. When you look at him, he has his arms over his face, jaw and mouth barely visible. What is very visible, is the erction pushing against the front of his pants, and though you would have liked to look, you only give it a glance. Hotch jumps when you touch his ankle again, but you don’t start just yet.

“Relax, like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before. Happens a lot actually, my hands are just that good you know, like a god or something.” Hotch huffs out a laugh, a smile briefly on his lips. You smile back at him even though he can’t see you, and then concentrate back on the task at hand.

Like before, you start at his ankles, working your way up. Hotch gets less tense almost by the second, breathing deepening as your hands work their magic once more. You don’t go very high on his thighs, actually now you’re lower than before, not wanting to make Hotch uncomfortable in any way.

Next is his hips, you start at the one closest to you and work your way up towards his shoulder instead of across his stomach. He still has his arms over his face, so you poke him in the bicep to get his attention.

“Arm please.” Hotch’s sigh is deep, but he moves his arm so you can take it. You’re gentle, well, as gentle as you can be while kneading out knots from tired muscles. His bicep is firm under your fingers, needing a lot less attention than his shoulders luckily.

When you’re done with that arm, you let it go, tapping on his other so he can move that of his face and switch it for the one you finished with. The angle of it is a bit awkward, and you probably should move for easier access, but honestly you can’t be bothered as you’re very close to being finished. However, your knee protests, telling your body that hey, moving is good as not to let limbs fall asleep.

But instead of doing the logical and probably better thing of getting of the bed and walking around, your tired brain decides to just move one leg over Hotch waist, intending to just move the other one over and after. Hotch draws in a slight breath at the motion and then something in your leg fails you, causing you to drop down on Hotch, putting most of your weight on top of Hotch’s crotch. Hotch moans out loud as his hands flies to your lower thighs and you go stock still.

“Fuck shit, sorry Hotch-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it-” Hotch draws in a deep breath and licks his lips as you worriedly watch his face. You’re mortified, you just dropped yourself on Hotch’s erection, holy fuck, shit.

It takes a few seconds to realize that you’re not trying to move of Hotch’s lap.

But Hotch isn’t trying to move you off either.

If anything, he’s keeping you there, a deathgrip on your lower thighs.

You take a few terrifying seconds to take stock of the situation before experimentally rolling your hips against Hotch. A flex of his fingers, but he does or says nothing as he stares at the ceiling. You on the other hand, is watching his face for any hint of what he’s thinking.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop, and we’ll forget about it ever happening.”

“Ah, um, fuck, shit.”

Silence, one, two, three beats.

“Fuck, move.” You start to get off his, heart already dropping to your guts, but instead Hotch drags you down and rolls his hips against you. This time it’s you who gasps, as your own dick twitches in your pants with the feeling of Hotch grinding against you. Hotch throws his head back, eyes screwed shut.

You’re quick to find your balance and leverage by placing your hands on Hotch’s chest, grinding down, moving as best as you can with Hotch’s own movements. Hotch is letting out a few low moans, which you match with your own as you move and watch the adam’s apple on Hotch’s throat move as he swallows. You want to lean down and kiss his neck, but fuck, you don’t know if you even can kiss him, if he will let you.

Hotch answers that question for you, as just seconds later his eyes open and he moves so he can look at you, catching you staring at him.

“Ah fuck.” Before you can even ask, he’s sitting up. You yelp as the movement causes you to straddle his thighs instead, and then in seconds there’s a hand on the nape of your neck, and even fewer seconds later you’re kissing Hotch.

Fuck.

His lips are firm, but pressing against you with a desperation you’re sure to match. His hands on your hips, holding you hard. Your hands go into his hair, tugging him even closer of that is even possible at this point, which causes him to moan low into your mouth which holy shit, that is, fuck, you can’t even think anymore you think.

The world shifts around you then, and you find yourself on your back, Hotch’s erection pressed against your own. It feels so good, so big and firm, and you want to feel more of him, but you can’t muster the brainpower to do anything about it, so you just tug at his hair and grind against him. Hotch seems of the same mind, as he doesn’t move to do much more either, just moving his hips against yours while kissing you within an inch of your life.

Which should be ridiculous, because you’re both grown men almost fully dressed still, but fuck, that makes it even hotter you think. Or, you try to think, as your mind is mostly chants of ‘more, good, fuck, shit, hot’ over and over again, Hotch’s name thrown in the mix for good measure.

Hotch moves away from your lips, but doesn’t move far, instead peppering kissed down your neck on the little skin he can reach. You moan and gasp, moving one hand from his hair to his back, trying to press him even more against you.

“Fuck, shit, I’m close, so close!” You frantically confess towards the ceiling.

“Me too, me too.” Hotch breathes against your neck, one hand moving so he can unbutton your shirt and get his lips on your collarbone. He starts to suck and bite at a spot there, and that is what does you in. You come just seconds after your shirt is open for him, moaning loudly.

“Fuck!” You hear Hotch mutter against your skin, and then a mutter of your name as he comes, in a low baritone that you think you will remember for the rest of your life.

You lay there panting for several seconds, or perhaps minutes, you’re not sure, just a mess of limbs, most of Hotch’s weight on top of you.

It’s hot, in more ways than one, which is what forces you to push Hotch off you, to get some air. He goes willingly, flopping down on his back next to you on the bed. A few panting breaths before you both turn to look at the other, smiles, then laughter as the situation sinks in. You’re surprisingly the first to gain somewhat of a control over yourself, grinning as you speak.

“We just came in our pants, what are we, teenagers?” Hotch pushes his weight up on his elbows, wincing as apparently something pulls somewhere.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like one.” Hotch smiles as you, which you return, letting your eyes wander all over him now that you can. His hair is standing in a million different directions, there’s a blush to his cheeks, his clothes are rumpled, a wet spot is forming on the front of his pants, and he looks as fucked and blissed out as you, and most certainly he, feels. You hum, your attention going back to his face.

“We should get cleaned up.” You state, which Hotch nods in response.

“I think you mean you should get us cleaned up. My legs feels like jello right about now.” You raise a brow and he grins.

“I think your massage turned off something in my legs.” You huff, incredulous, but sit up anyway.

“I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, the sex certainly helped.” You laugh and lean down to give him a kiss, which is mostly smiling lips pressed against each other.

“Flatterer.”

“Hey, what can I say, you got magic fingers.” You smack his chest and laugh as you get up to go the bathroom, your own legs a little shaky, which Hotch doesn’t comment on, but you know he liked by the way he grins at you when you get back to the bed.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Stupid Decision

 MAIN MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,950ish

Summary: Steve makes a stupid decision regarding your relationship. (Angst/Fluff)

Notes: This is my entry for @sylvie-writes​ writing challenge. I didn’t bold the prompts but I used 23, 30, 32, 36, 44, and 52.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The five words no one ever longed to hear when they were in love. Especially when you were in love with none other than, Captain America. You knew something had been off before he left for the mission a week ago. And now, he had gotten back and went straight to your room. You tried to welcome him back with open arms, only for him to say.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart broke instantly. “Wh-what? Why?” Your voice was small, which made Steve almost wince.

“I just… I can’t.” He turned to leave but you quickly stopped him.

“No! You don’t get to just say you can’t do this anymore and walk away. I am owed an explanation.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just can’t any more. It’s not you, it’s—“

“Bullshit! Just tell me.”

“I have another mission, Y/N. I just came to tell you it was over. I have to go.” 

He opened the door, walked out and quickly closed it. You were so shocked that you couldn’t move to chase after him. It wasn’t worth it anyway if he was done. There was no point in fighting it. You began crying into your hands, slowly lowering yourself onto your knees. Unbeknownst to you, Steve was still outside the door. He was leaning against it, head up and hand still on the door knob. He was looking at the ceiling, wishing for his tears to disappear as he listened to your cries.

The mission had been rough, as many were. But this time they had clear information on you. Your patterns, your likes and dislikes, everything down to your elementary school grades. They threatened him with your life and he could not risk it. It was killing him the whole way home that he had purposefully put together another mission to get back out there as soon as possible. But right now, Steve couldn’t get himself to move. You were inside your room, heart broken, and all he wanted to do was fix it. But he couldn’t. Not until the threat was completely gone.

~~~

Tony, Natasha, and Clint were all in the kitchen, fixing themselves breakfast, when Tony suddenly stopped what he was doing.

“What is it, Stark?” Natasha wondered.

“Shit’s about to hit the fan,” Tony answered, squinting his eyes and looking around. “I can feel it.”

Clint laughed. “You can feel it?” Clint repeated. “Since when?”

“Since ever. Trust me on this one. Something’s off about today.”

You slunk into the room. Sleep had eluded you, so you already were struggling to look decent. But it was also clear that you had been crying.

“Y/N?” Natasha questioned. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Steve broke up with me,” you answered quietly.

“What?!” Clint and Natasha exclaimed.

“See!” Tony shouted. “I told you shit was about to hit the fan!”

“Tony,” Natasha scolded, coming to your side. “Why would he do that?”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your emotions in check. “He just… he just said that he couldn’t do it anymore. Then he left. Said he had another mission to go on.”

“Another mission?” Tony repeated. “There was no plan for another mission.”

“Well then I don’t know where he is then, Tony!” You yelled, letting it all out. “That’s what he told me, after… after…” You started hyperventilating, unable to fully take in air.

“Y/N, I need you to breathe,” Natasha coaxed, running a hand up and down your back. 

You shook your head, struggling. Nat guided you to a chair and knelt down in front of you. Tears slipped down your cheeks and you failed to take in any full breaths.

“Focus on me, Y/N,” Natasha guided. “Focus on my voice.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out to the AI, “I need a location on Rogers.”

“Captain Rogers is currently flying in a quinjet with Sargent Barnes and Mr. Wilson,” FRIDAY responded.

“I need details on their mission sent to me, now.” 

“I don’t…” you choked out. “I don’t… un-under-stand-d… is he… see-ing… someone… else…?”

“Impossible,” Clint replied, shaking his head. “Cap’s head over heals in love with you.”

“Th-then wh-yyy…?”

“I’ve given you all the details I have to Captain Rogers plans, Boss,” FRIDAY stated.

“I’m going to figure this out, kid. I’m going to bring them home and give ‘em hell,” Tony said. “I promise.” He press a kiss to her head before hurrying away.

“Nat…” you cried. “It hurts…”

“I know,” she rubbed her thumb over your knee. “I know… let’s get you back into bed. You need some rest.”

~~~

After Clint and Nat tucked you in, you slept for hours while they tried to figure out what Steve was thinking.

“They’ve somehow cut FRIDAY out of the quinjet,” Tony said, him and the others in his lab. “And they didn’t put in any flights plans before FRIDAY got disconnected.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Clint said, looking over everything. “Steve came to me a few weeks ago, asking when I knew Laura was the one. I asked him if he thought Y/N was the one and he said yes. He couldn’t have changed his mind that fast… right?”

“I think I’ve found something,” Natasha said, sitting in front of a computer. “This is the footage from Steve’s suit cam from the last mission.” She pulled screenshots up. “There’s information all about Y/N here. Like, everything. Her whole life story, her day-to-day routines. Everything.”

“He thinks he’s protecting her,” Tony whispered, looking over everything. “He thinks this is his fault and that he has to be the one to fix it.”

“Stupid, idiot men,” Natasha muttered. “Always feeling the need to protect us by doing stupid shit. We need to get him back here before she turns around and does something stupid herself.”

~~~

It was now the middle of the night and you couldn’t sleep. You were craving sugar, hard core, and you knew exactly where to find it. Sneaking out to the kitchen, you found where the cans of frosting were kept. You grabbed a spoon before carefully opening the can and sat up on top of the counter. You closed your eyes and moaned as that first spoonful ran across your tongue. 

“Did I just witness you eat frosting straight from the can?”

You jumped at the sound of Clint’s voice, almost slipping off the counter.

“Shit, Clint! You scared me.”

“Sorry about that.” He waltzed into the kitchen and stood across from you, leaning against the counter. “But seriously, are you eating frosting straight from a can?”

“It’s not a crime, Clint, it’s just my coping mechanism. Deal with it.” You put another spoonful in your mouth. 

“How are you holding up?”

“How do you think? As you’ve pointed out twice now, I’m eating frosting from a can.”

“He’s an idiot.” 

You nodded in agreement, taking another spoonful. “Yeah…” you sighed. “Clint, I don’t know if I can be here when he comes back.”

“What? You can’t seriously be thinking about leaving?”

“I am seriously thinking about it. I’m not even a part of the team nor do I work here at the compound. I moved in to be with Steve and now he doesn’t want to be with me, so I really don’t see a reason to stay. Technically, the room I’m in is his anyway.”

“Y/N, really think about this. Are you sure?”

You took a minute to really think about it. “I’m sure.”

~~~

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on here, punk?” Bucky asked. 

He and Sam had been dragged into the quinjet almost immediately after Steve had gotten home. They knew that something was wrong, but Steve wasn’t talking.

Steve sighed. “I guess it’s time that I told you,” he said. “I broke up with Y/N?”

“You what?!” His friends both shouted.

“Why? It doesn’t make any sense!” Sam continued. “Bucky, wasn’t it just a few weeks ago when Steve told us he was going to marry the girl. And now you’ve gone and broke up with her?! Do you have brain damage?!” Steve simply clenched his jaw, unable to look at them.

“Why did you do it, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Cause they know everything,” Steve replied, quietly.

“Who knows everything?”

“HYDRA… On the last mission, I found a room dedicated to her. They’re planning on using her against me.”

“They can’t do that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “She’s perfectly safe at the compound.”

“Except she’s not. When I say they know everything, Sam, I mean they know everything. Her habits, her likes and dislikes, every moment we’ve spent together… In order to keep her safe, I needed to break up with her.”

“Was that’s HYDRA’s call or your call?” Bucky asked. Steve didn’t answer. “You idiot.”

“I had to do what was needed. We’re on our way to another base. I can’t be with her until they’re gone.”

“Did you ever think about the effect this would have on her?”

“I did. But I had to do it. She’s safe under Tony’s care right now while I fix this.”

“You didn’t even think this through, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N’s not an Avenger. So she had no reason to be living at the compound besides you. It’s only a matter of time before she moves out. And we all know she’s not safe out there.”

“I’m sure the Team can keep her there.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “Do they even know what’s going on?”

“They don’t. But if I know Natasha, she’ll do anything to keep me and her together.” 

“She’s going to kill you for doing this to Y/N.”

Steve winced, imagining what Nat will do to him when she sees him again. “Well, we’re not going back until this mission is complete.”

~~~

Clint watched you through the vents throughout the night. He wanted to see if you were really serious. And you were, you packed up all your belongs before dawn. You had also found a new apartment already. Almost every box was in the moving truck by the time Clint woke up from his spot in the vent. Upon seeing the room with only Steve’s things in it, he rushed to the lab, where Nat and Tony were still trying to get a hold of Steve, Bucky, and Sam.

“Guys! Guys! Guys!” Clint ran in. “We have a problem!”

“What is it, Legolas?” Tony asked. “I’ve almost hacked into the quinjet here.”

“Y/N’s leaving! She’s packed up and almost out of here!”

“What?!” Natasha and Tony shouted.

“We have to stop her! We need to get Steve back here!”

“I’m trying, Barton,” Tony said. “You and Red find a way to slow her down. I think I’ve got a location on them. I’m going to take a suit and go after them.”

~~~

You were walking to your car to go and meet the moving truck at your new place, when suddenly there was a red head in front of you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“To my new apartment,” you answered. 

“Why? This is your home.”

“No, this is Steve’s home.”

“And now yours.”

“Nat… I really don’t want to do this right now. I just want to get to my new apartment and sleep.”

“You can sleep here.”

“I’m sorry, Nat.” You tried to move around her, only for her to get back in your way. “Seriously, move.”

“Try me.” She narrowed her eyes at you.

“You know I can’t compete with you. Just, Nat… I can’t be here when he gets back… he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. And that’s… well it sucks and, honestly, I may never recover. But I have a better shot at doing so someplace else.”

“Y/N…” Natasha reached for your hand, but you stepped back.

“No.” You shook your head. “If you touch me, I will break. And I don’t want to break in front of people. I have to be strong.”

“Rogers is an idiot.”

You gave her a small, but fake, smile. “I never said he wasn’t. Please, Nat, let me go.”

“Fine,” Natasha sighed. “I’m coming with you to help you unpack.”

~~~

Tony landed on the quinjet, that was still in the air. He was furious at the Captain he knew was below him. Not bothering to open the ramp, he used a laser to cut a hole in the top of the quinjet and jumped through it.

“What the hell, Stark?!” Sam exclaimed. The three men were armed.

“What the hell is right,” Tony said, making his helmet disappear. He pointed at Steve. “I can’t even believe you.”

“Tony, you don’t understand,” Steve said.

“Oh, I think I do. You think you’re protecting her but Y/N is back in New York, heart broken and moving out of the compound.”

“Moving out? She can’t move out, it’s not safe. Why are you letting her do that?”

“I’m not letting her do shit, Rogers. She’s her own person who was basically told that she wasn’t worth it.”

“I never said that. I could never—“

“Doesn’t matter. You gave her no other reason, so she’s immediately feel to that.”

“It’s too dangerous—“

“Our lives our too dangerous, Steve! You don’t see it, but she doesn’t sleep when you’re gone. Always worried sick that you might never return! You think you’re protecting her by doing this, well you’re wrong! You’ve now pushed her out of the safest place she could be!”

“I may regret saying this, but I’m with Stark on this one,” Bucky said. “You’ve been a complete and utter idiot, Steve. Yes, protect her. Go out and destroy all of HYDRA, we’ll help. But break her heart in the process,” Bucky shook his head, “ridiculous. If you told her what was going on, she would have understood. The team could have created a plan to keep her safer, but instead you did the most stupid, cliche thing in the book.”

Steve fell back into the pilot’s seat, running a hand down his face. “I really am an idiot,” he whispered.

“Damn right you are,” Sam agreed. “So what do you say to destroying this HYDRA base we’re heading to and then going back and fixing things with your girl?”

~~~ 

Both Natasha and Clint helped you unpack, though they didn’t make it easy. They kept trying to put things back in the moving van to take back to the compound, but you wouldn’t have it. After having dinner together, you forced them to leave you alone. It was now the early hours of the morning and you were sitting out on the fire escape just outside your new bedroom window. You were lost in thought, staring at the sky.

“You are probably the only person in the world who can look this beautiful at 3 in the morning.”

Steve’s rough, yet timid voice caused you to jump in surprise. You didn’t say anything though, simply stared down at him. He wasn’t too far below you, still in his suit and roughed up from the mission.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see,” he began slowly, continuing up the fire escape. “But I had to see you.”

“Why?” You sounded weaker than you wanted to. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore…”

“And I was so incredibly stupid.” He sat on the same level as you, far enough away to give you your space while still being close. “I… the mission got into my head. They… they knew everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he nodded. “They were planning to come after you and use you against me. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t get past it to see another way then ending it with you.”

“Steve,” you moved slightly closer. “You could have just talked to me about it.”

“I know… I wasn’t thinking… And for that I’m so sorry.” He met your eyes. His blues were glistening with tears. “Is there any way to fix this mess I’ve gotten myself into?”

You sighed, turning back to look at the sky. “I.. I… I’m scared… Scared of getting hurt again… But I’m more scared of not being able to love you.”

“Me too… Y/N, I made the stupidest decision I have ever made, by telling you I couldn’t do it anymore. It was me not thinking straight, acting on impulse. I should have talked to you about it all, gotten your opinion… I just love you so much, the thought of losing you was—“

“Too much to bare.” Steve nodded in agreement. “I know, cause I feel that way every time you leave for a mission. There’s always a good chance that you don’t come back, that doesn’t mean that I would ever break up with you.”

“You’re stronger than me… you always have been.”

You rested your hand on his closest to you. “We’re both strong in our own ways, that’s why we work so well together.” You moved closer to him, so your arms were brushing against each other. “I love you, Steve. You just need to promise to talk to me, or this isn’t going to work.”

He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb against it. “I don’t deserve you… I love you, so much. I promise to talk more before I make a decision.”

You held up your pinky. “Pinky promise?”

Steve laughed as he brought up his pinky to wrap around yours. “Pinky promise.”

[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. 

[sanstropfremir]

I’d love your thoughts on BTS and their current image and music if you have them and aren’t afraid of the mindless internet hoards.

Personally, I liked a lot of their older stuff, but haven’t liked anything since I think the Fake Love promotions 3+ years ago. They’d started losing their personality and soul before that album cycle, but it feels like the sanitization of their image and artistry really kicked into hyperdrive after that. Now most of what they do seems like a sterile money grab driven by the Hybe hive mind which is a shame.

ok alrighty (cracks knuckles) let's get into it.

now that i've fully given myself a headache watching the majority of the bts videography, here are three points i'm going to cover:

performative character and the lack thereof

interesting aesthetics and the lack thereof, and

the inevitable cracking of perfection

ready, set, let's begin.

1.

idol music is very clearly definited by spectacle based aesthetics. and it's had that structure for its entire existence. so i gotta hand it to hybe for this one, because they managed to revolutionize being utterly fucking average. the triumph of bts is that they're just some guys and they look like just some guys. hybe found a niche in the system and then gamed that system to the tune of one of the largest musical acts in the world. they're not marketing bts as a romantic parasocial relationship, they're marketing them as your friends. and that is just as insidious to lonely kids as a run of the mill romantic fantasy. but that's not what i'm here to talk about today.

there's a pattern i find very interesting with bts mvs and that is that i don't remember anything about them. specifically, i don't remember the stuff that's happening IN the video; not the styling, not the setpieces, if i didn't know the members i doubt i would remember them either. what i DO remember, is how expensive the production is, and specific shots. i couldn't tell you what a single member was wearing, but i sure as hell remember that first upward angle shot of jungkook and the rusted park ride in spring day. or every single time they do that birdseye shot of jin in like every video. honestly as far as i'm aware jin has only ever worn a loose fitting beige longsleeve shirt.

it took bts a long time to establish any kind of consistent visual character. and the character they did establish.... i don't know if you can call a family-friendly-style clean aesthetic 'character'. they debuted as a hip hop group to little (comparative) success, and then made a switch to doing an early version of where they're currently at right now. if you've seen any of the mvs, you know that this is a pretty significant visual change. i don't think it is inherently a bad change, since the visual branding for hiphop based groups always tips over into iffy terrritory, but it is dramatic enough and early enough that it doesn't strike me as a natural evolution. concept switch ups are common, but they usually work because the members have established a bit of character for themselves, used their performance abilities and presence to fit into a niche in the group. the idol mould is perfect for showcasing the performers; that's its function. the groups that are the most fun to watch are the ones with stage presence, the ones who know how to perform, who can act all the parts they need to play. and bts? 4/7 actual performers on a good day. in my personal opinion it's 2/7.

i'm gonna expand on what i said about jimin here (this is technically the first part of this series), because it does apply to the rest of the group on the whole:

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is.

bts has been very insistent on the image of the group as a single unit. despite having the size of fanbase and the revenue that would make any official solo debut a massive success, none of them have done any substantial solo work. this isn't artistically a problem, and i think it's very admirable of them to be so dedicated to the image and the legacy of the group, when that can be an uncommon trait in the industry. i do however, think it starts to become an issue when we want to discuss what the artistic visions and images of groups are. shinee taemin and solo taemin have two distinct artistic representations, and taemin himself will attest to that. it's the same with all the shinee members that have solo careers, and the same with other groups. jackson, bambam, yugyeom, and jaebeom's solo work is all very different from got7. yixing's solo work is very different from exo's. even the subunits within exo all have their own character (cbx and sc). kpop groups all ostensibly are trained under the same system, so why the disparity with bts? mostly, it's their brand of "authenticity." it's impossible to perform authentically, by the nature of performance as a medium it is unnatural, and tragically, not everyone is naturally interesting, or suited to performing: that's why the performing arts even exist in the first place. it required painstaking training to be good at performing; it is a complex set of skills and those skills are not learnt by "being authentic." being an idol is not just the singing, dancing, rapping; that's only half the work. you need to be able to act to be a compelling performer. pulling your true self and emotions out on stage every night is a fast track to burnout and psychological issues, there's plenty of evidence. the only member of bts of whom i can say for some certainty has a persona and a stage presence is jhope/hoseok, a) because he's kept up a very specific brand in the solo work that he has done, and b) he has actual dance training, not just kpop dance training. the rest of them may have the kpop dance and the kpop vocal training, but what they do not have is the ability to market themselves as compelling performers on stage. taehyung is the only other member i would hesitantly give a semblance of persona and ability to, but i think he stumbled onto that mostly by accident. and if all the pieces don't each have a distinctive colour, how can the whole machine be visually interesting?

2.

bts may never have been able to establish an aesthetic brand, but what they did establish is an intellectual one. if you talk to a fan, the schtick they give is that "it's about the lyrics." as noble as having an intellectual or cerebral message is, what does that look like? how do you portray intellectual on stage, on film? what about intellectual is interesting to watch? cerebral, by it's literal nature as a descriptor, is very difficult to communicate in visual language because it is internal. to successfully communicate cerebrality and intellect in a short form medium like music videos requires a deft hand with metaphor that can elude even an experienced designer. and honestly? i don't know whether to applaud hybe's visual team for being the most successful subtle contemporary designers i've every seen, or to decry them as worst kpop designers i've ever seen. maybe both. regardless, i don't think they're able to cross the gap.

there are exactly four mvs where i actually remember the content of the mv and not the frame it sits in, and those are dna, idol, the singularity comeback trailer with taehyung, and war of hormone. and of an eight year career......that's not very many. these four mvs have at least an inkling of interesting spectacle and character, but even then, it's still a stretch. there is absolutely nothing to write home about in the styling for dna, other than it's well colour matched. I don't even know if I should include singularity because it involves none of the other members. idol is probably their most interesting mv because it actually has alternative styling and varies (at least a little bit) from the standard hybe boom crane shot-that-shows-off-how-we-can-afford-big-studio-spaces-and-locations. the company and the group would be loathe to admit it, but war of hormone is a well designed and interesting mv for the time it was made, with a well crafted gimmick and some actual showing of character from the members. it was the start of a potential that they squashed quite quickly because it wasn't picking up in the hiphop-group-saturated market of 2014. but the rest of their mvs? remarkably uninspired styling. like it's truly impressive how boring the styling is. and like i've said, that is the triumph in their aesthetics: they all look like normal dudes (if you had professional skin + makeup techs looking after them for the last 8 years).

all of this is a carefully crafted image that's tailored to hooking an audience, especially an international one. the mvs are boring in the relative scale of kpop, but they're just different enough from a western pop mv to catch attention. and once you do sink a hook, there's a direct clickfunnel of content that bills itself on these men being "authentic" and "self-producing," which is a huge draw to international fans, because people are racist and believe that the kpop industry is a factory that produces idols like clones, where none of them know how to do anything other than sing and dance and all the music is just handed to them by companies. and they have SO much content that there's no way a new fan can get to it all in a timely manner, so they'll never have to engage with any other kpop artists' work if they don't actively seek it out. but that's another essay for another time.

3.

that brings us to current day, in which at least the last five bts releases have been in the same aesthetic vein of positive, sanitized, and pristine. i said it in one of my txt responses and i will say it again here: money scrubs the humanity from the aesthetic of living. minimalism is for rich white people. hybe and bts may have pivoted their style and brand directly into the lane of mass appeal, but when you pair that with the amount of money funding them, there's a cognitive dissonance between the message and the aesthetics in which it's portrayed. some people do like the clean cut looks, and i won't say that they don't work, but as you've likely gleaned from this response, it isn't my style and if you've been around and reading my writing for longer you'll know that my tastes runs much closer to the messy and the weird, so very little about any of bts' visuals have appeal to me. i do find the contradiction of applying the appeal of radical relatability with the aesthetics of expansive (and expensive) minimalism interesting; it's an extremely fine line that hybe is walking and eventually they are going to tip over, the porcelain mask will not hold forever. maintaining the all ages aesthetic is going to be difficult now that all of them are grown ass men. with other groups of this member age and generation there's very obviously been a shift to a more adult tone, and not necessarily explicitly. got7, mx, nu'est, btob, shinee, 2pm, and groups that have older members like a.c.e and sf9 have all made slow shifts in tone that are undeniably aimed at a maturing audience: they know their core fanbases are aging with them and they (the fans) are not as interested in the 'boy' in boy group. and most of them have telltale visual styles, enough so that i can distinguish a specific group's mv. the last year and change of mx mvs have a very distinctive character; got7 too, since easily as far back as if you do. i can always tell an a.c.e mv by its impeccable fashion and formic styling, and although shinee has always had a more experimental aesthetic edge, their sound and voices are unmistakable.

honestly, i can't predict what bts is going to do in the future, but i personally don't believe they can keep up their clean aesthetic indefinitely without some fallout. part of the fun of following bands is watching them grow musically, and the last couple of years of bts haven't felt like growth. there are fans that have already started realizing it, and there's likely to be more soon.

---

the third part is here, which is a short followup about some of bts' industry influence.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 54 - Anchor

Title: Irreverent Pt. 54 - Anchor

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~6K

A/N: Whoops on the posting schedule. Had a wedding, etc. and things just got away from me. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's cold in the warehouse, the drafty chill causing goosebumps to erupt under the leather jacket you still had on. You're seated in one of the metal chairs, eyes trained on the door. Your companion had his to the other side, watching the windows.

It had been over a day since you and Clyde had been taken outside the jazz club. In hindsight, it had been impulsive of you both to go along with the change in plan, and yet the fact that the club had blown up mere seconds after you stepped outside, had you feeling rather alright about your rashness. The two of you hadn't had a chance to recover from the blowback of the explosion, when you were being shoved and pushed at gunpoint into the back of a van, cloth covers thrown over both your heads.

They shouldn't have known that the two of you were undercover agents. But they had. You'd arrived and been led into another building and when the cloth had been torn off of your head, the face in front of you had your head reeling. It had been as though every fear you'd had about the assignment had suddenly manifested itself and you regretted having kept all of your suspicions from Clyde.

Erasmus Jansen had been an associate of your father's whom you'd met on a handful of occasions while traveling with him, at your home growing up, and then once more when your father had agreed to bring you in formally. In a split second decision, you called him Uncle Erasmus – banking on your father's relationship to him to offer you some protection, buy you some time and trust, imploring him to see the little girl who had ran into her father's office eager to show off her working Grand Adage, and not the federal agent who had been sent to stop him.

Your voice had harkened him to pause as recognition flitted into his eyes. Your eyes and the set of your mouth, so very much a reminder of your father. He'd brisked you away into another room where you had continued to bank on your father's reputation. You allowed Jansen to do most of the talking, as he revealed to you that your father had confided in him that he was working on getting agents into the higher echelons of each governmental agency. He had simply never guessed that one of those agents would be his own daughter. You thought it best not to dissuade him of that notion.

Things had progressed quickly after that as you acted almost entirely on instinct, working to ingratiate yourself to him and earn his trust. You'd shot Clyde, wordlessly imploring him to understand what you were doing and why, careful to aim for the thickest parts of the vest and avoid any critical areas.

You'd had to play along. For both of your sakes.

You still had a job to do.

All of your doubts and fears regarding this assignment were coming to life, and there were still two CIA operatives unaccounted for. Jansen had said that your father had been cultivating agents on the inside - that was confirmation enough for you that you and Clyde had been correct. There was a mole still somewhere within the Bureau. Someone who had been watching and waiting, feeding them information for years. Jansen had to know the identity of whomever it was, since he had assumed you were a mole who had never been utilized by your father. It wouldn't have been any surprise to you if your father had indeed even played into the idea that you were a plant. That you were his to command. That he owned you.

Now here you sat, waiting in the outer chamber of a warehouse in the outskirts of Philadelphia. The drive there had seemed vaguely familiar and as you'd driven past an old diner by the road, you're reminded of a trip you'd taken out here with John during your first year of training. Wind rushing around you, your hair tucked safely beneath a helmet, arms wrapped tightly around the firm torso in front of you as your fingers clung to the worn leather jacket. You'd stopped for food at that diner on the way back, after scoping out the property. It had been one of several on a list that you were working through on the weekends you both could spare. Ocean blue eyes and cherry pie. Milkshakes - chocolate for you and strawberry for him. Finding a song on the jukebox that had his shoulders moving along. Your laughter - both yours and his - lighting up that dusty old diner by the side of the road. It felt like a lifetime ago. A person ago.

The clanging of the door separating the outer chamber from the inner maze has you jolting towards it, as both you and Jansen's associate - whose name you'd come to learn was Ramos - moved forward to enter as Jansen's hand beckoned on in. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the lowered lighting as you look around. They'd established a temporary base here it seemed. You can see the outline of the ladder that you'd climbed down during your first visit, nearly six years prior. It had rattled and shook, the two of you shushing one another in the following silence. What had then been an empty space was now equipped with weapons. In the center you can see a cage – metal bars separating you from two shapes within. It is all so familiar. You should've known. You should've known then. You shouldn't have written it off as too horrific to be true.

As you draw closer, one of the two shapes moves. You watch, silently accepting the chair that Jansen had drawn out for you as he seated himself in the other one. It is only by the dim lighting inside and the beginnings of moonlight peaking through the high shutters that you can make out the shape as it moves closer. White knuckles gripping tightly onto the metal bars. A scuffed pant leg just barely visible in the darkness. You look up to meet the pale, glassy eyes of Agent Dean Novak, CIA.

*------------*

Emily watches from the corner of her eye as Hotch and Hawthorne pour over the documents they'd grabbed from the storage unit. The team had relocated to the office now that McKinney was aware they were working the case.

Hawthorne had arrived pretty quickly after Hotch had stepped out of the storage unit to call him. He'd been nice and polite to all of them, remembering their names despite her having a vague recollection of you never having gotten around to actually introducing them to him that night at the bar. Though she supposed her memory of that night was far from reliable.

None of them had known that Hotch really knew this guy and now here they were, sitting across from one another at the conference table, quietly comparing notes on anything of interest. It made sense that Hotch had called him in. He'd explained to them all, prior to Hawthorne's arrival, that the two of you had been researching your father's businesses together around the time you joined the Bureau. None of them had been surprised to hear that. Hotch had decided to call in the guy who knew all of this as well as you did. They could certainly use the help. The fact that he was also the closest thing you had to an ex besides Matthew, seemed not to matter.

"He called him Aaron," JJ whispers from beside her, catching Garcia's attention as well. Before Hawthorne had arrived, Garcia had already looked up everything there was to know about the guy. Clean record, upstanding citizen, wealthy family with dubious connections, but that wasn't exactly a surprise. Derek had been the one who knew the most about him, and even he knew very little. However, it didn't take a profiler to see that Hotch and Hawthorne had known each other beyond that casual hello at the bar with the rest of them. They'd shaken hands quickly when Hawthorne had arrived, all windswept hair and perfectly fitted suit, before Hotch had introduced him to the rest of the team.

Garcia had already declared him one of the most attractive human beings to ever exist within five minutes of his arrival, having blushed when he'd smiled at her in greeting, much to Morgan's annoyance. He'd shook all of their hands incredibly politely – soft, but not timid in the least. Confident in that self-assured manner where he had nothing to prove to anyone. He'd quickly rolled up his sleeves and dived in. His familiarity with your organizational system immediately paying off as he quickly reduced the number of boxes they had to sift through from the forty nine they'd carried out of the storage facility, down to merely ten. When asked how the two of you had had time to do all of this research in addition to your day jobs – him, logging over sixty hours a week at a major New York law firm, and you being in round the clock training – he'd merely shrugged. Somehow, the two of you had found the time. From that, Emily gathered that neither of you had had much of a life beyond this and each other throughout those two years.

The cavalry seated around the room, all of them searching for any way to find you. Emily knows that that hadn't been the case when she had been presumed dead. Instead, from subsequent conversations with Rossi and Morgan, she'd come to learn that her cavalry had consisted of exactly one, you. You, who had dedicated every spare moment to finding Doyle, avenging her death. Learning that hadn't exactly been a surprise. She'd known that Hotch was away and JJ reassigned. Morgan was busy running the team and Rossi was trying to keep everyone's head above water. You'd been all alone in your vengeance. It had led credence to the number of times she'd come close to dialing your number while hiding out in Paris. Out of everyone, you'd be the person to never stop.

Her eyes wander over once more to the two men seated at the adjacent table. Morgan was working through something with Garcia. Reid and JJ were still sifting through their respective boxes. Hotch and Hawthorne had split a box between them, both of them taking notes as they went through in long yellow legal pads. Both of their heads were bent in concentration, suit jackets long shed in favor of comfort. There was a half eaten sandwich in front of them both, which they'd only acquiesced to partake in under JJ's watchful eye – both abandoned once her back was turned. Hawthorne’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the table as he flipped through a thick folder. Hotch's thumb rubbed the outer edge of his index finger. Both of their legs bounced, the only outlet for the coiled energy within, kept hardly at bay.

Not for the first time, Emily finds herself praying – to who knew what – that they'd find you. If only so that she could see your reaction to these two men co-existing here, because of you.

*------------*

You and Jansen walk back into the outer chamber, leaving Ramos to guard over Novak and Cavanaugh, relieving one of the earlier guards to go walk the perimeter.

"They're the ones you and that other agent wanted to buy. I still have contacts with the Chinese if we want to get them off of our hands this week," he tells you, coming around to sit in one of the chairs off to the side.

You know he trusts you minimally at best right now. Shooting Clyde had been a test that you'd passed, having quickly walked over to him before Ramos could, pressing down into the part of the armpit that would help mimic a lack of pulse when checked. Ramos didn't know enough to ward against that, and Jansen had been busy taking a call. You'd willed Clyde to be passed out long enough from the force of the gunshots for you to get away with the first deception.

"Why the Chinese? Our Russian contacts have always been stronger and more responsive," you counter, tracking back to everything you'd learned from your father years prior. Jansen had to feel like you had a stake in this. You allow yourself to slip back into your old fate, just this once.

"Volkov died last year. It weakened our position with them and we haven't been able to make a new contact that's trustworthy enough."

You sigh, leaning back in the and forcing an air of ease about you. Jansen had to see you assume the role your father had once held in his life. It wouldn't be easy. Only once before had he seen you actually in the business prior to Julian's death. That too, alongside your father. However, your distinct advantage here, ironically, would be your last name. Jansen might have attempted to take over from your father, but your family name still carried weight. A certain respect in these circles that was earned by virtue of swift and calculated brutality.

"Who had been feeding you the names on the inside if it wasn't me?" you ask, side stepping the land mine that was Alexander Volkov. Jansen brought him up only due to your personal relationship with Volkov. After all, your father hadn't been able to brag enough about how you'd cultivated that particular contact for him as your first real project on the job. No one had made strides with the Russians the way you had. You'd spent the first part of your winter break senior year, in the Balkans, being firsthand witness to Volkov's methods. You'd shown no fear, however, and he'd respected that, agreeing to sit down and talk. Even now, the mere thought of the burly, intimidating Russian had your insides churning. It was no wonder that Jansen wouldn't take on any successor to Volkov. Successors in that business were created only through conquest.

"He's up in the Bureau. Sits in on the project meetings," Jansen answers, taking a swig from the flask he still carried with him. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. He wasn't giving you a name exactly, but that alright. If you got enough details, you could figure it out.

"What's in it for him?"

Jansen's face takes on a sinister quality as he takes another sip from the flask, his lips curling into a menacing grin that has your skin crawling. You're not about to like whatever he tells you next.

*------------*

Erasmus Jansen was the name that Garcia had been trying to hunt down in vain since they'd learned that he'd been the one to take you and Easter. Her computer dings, once more turning up empty. With a groan, she looks back at Emily in defeat.

"I can't do this," she wails. "He's mentioned in the Atlantis files and in some older CIA files on Y/N's father, but beyond that, on his own, there's nothing. No bank account, no physical address, not even a MySpace account. The man is a ghost."

Emily nods in sympathy before turning back to Hawthorne who was poring over yet another folder of real estate investments. "You're sure you don't remember anything at all about this guy?"

Hawthorne looks up apologetically, a frown marring his otherwise perfect face. Emily was pretty sure his was the face DaVinci had envisioned when he spoke of the golden ratio. "Sorry, no. Only met him while I was a kid and that too only in passing. Cap spent more time with her dad than Julian did so she knew all the players better." He sighs and comes around to where Emily and Garcia are sat, brainstorming through ways of potentially tracking you or Jansen. He leans against Garcia's table, one leg crossed over the other, arms holding up the rest of his weight against the table, and from her vantage point right in front of him, Emily can tell he's mentally combing through absolutely anything that could help. "The only thing she ever said about Jansen was that while he was great at execution, he wouldn't innovate. He'd rather have someone else in charge, which was why he stuck around her father for so long. On his own, he tends to flounder."

"We might be able to use that," Emily offers. "He'll stick to whatever is familiar and uncompromised."

Hawthorne nods, slowly agreeing with her. "Older properties that had other uses in the past. Places he feels comfortable." He's already walking back over to the files, sifting through until he finds one he's looking for. "Can you get aerial views of these?" He pushes a piece of paper with an address on it towards Garcia, who lights up at the opportunity to be able to do something she knows she can deliver on.

"Can I get an aerial shot?" Garcia scoffs as she types furiously, pounding at the keyboard with renewed fervor. "Give me a minute and I can get you a lot more than whatever Google Earth can manage."

Looking up, Emily can see a grin on Hawthorne's face as he watches Garcia continue her rant on exactly how much more she can find, how much better she is, could he please give her a real challenge next time because this ask was elementary at best.

Across the way, Hotch was talking to Rossi and Morgan about a profile they were creating for Jansen, leveraging the details of the Philadelphia bombing and what little Hawthorne had been able to add on. Emily's been surprised by how well Hotch had put himself back together after the video they'd all seen. The video that would likely haunt her for quite some time. Ever since Easter told him you were alive, the man had been single minded in finding you. While Rossi had mentioned looking into Easter's accusation – not out of any belief in it, but merely as a precautionary measure so they could be prepared – Hotch had brushed it aside, saying that would come later. Right then, he didn't want a single resource dedicated to anything besides getting you back. If she had ever doubted Hotch's dedication to you – which she never really had – the thought had no leg to stand on ever since he'd called in Hawthorne.

Hotch catches her gaze and quirks an eyebrow up in question – Do you have something? Emily shakes her head but offers him a small smile that he manages to return somehow. They were going to find you. No matter what.

*------------*

Jansen wanted to move both Novak and Cavanaugh to a secondary location. His paranoia was starting to catch up with him since no other buyers besides you and Clyde had reached out for the purchase, his calls to the Chinese going unanswered. Unbeknownst to him, you'd shut down his website prior to your meeting and he was now reaching out into the void, towards nothing.

He's been teetering a bit and you can see his natural instinct to follow your orders go up against that same paranoia that tells him to not trust you fully yet. You've tried to stall and calm him down and it has worked a bit but you're unsure how much longer you can continue to quell his instincts from working against you.

Your eyes meet Agent Novak's once again as you continue your silent attempt to communicate to him that you were safe. That you were there to help. Dot Dot Dash Dot. Dash Dot Dot Dot. Dot Dot. Aaron had forced you to learn morse code early on in your time with the team. He had told you it could come in handy at the most opportune of times. You'd spent a few weekends with him and Jack, learning the alphabet. Afterwards, you'd talked him into showing you some complicated knots, which he would only let you out of once you correctly tapped out your request to be released. In hindsight, you briefly wondered if he'd liked you even back then and gotten something more out of tying you up. Something to follow up on later.

You keep repeating your light taps, hoping that Agent Novak – the former Ranger – knew as much morse code as your Eagle Scout boyfriend and his equally nerdy and endearing son.

Dot Dot Dash Dot. Dash Dot Dot Dot. Dot Dot.

Dot Dot Dash Dot. Dash Dot Dot Dot. Dot Dot.

F. B. I.

Dot Dot Dash Dot. Dash Dot Dot Dot. Dot Dot.

Dot Dot Dash Dot. Dash Dot Dot Dot. Dot Dot.

By now, your email would have triggered the send to Penelope. With Clyde safe, you can only hope that Garcia would, given the circumstances, think to reach out to him. Jansen ordering you to shoot him had been the confirmation you had needed, to know that Easter himself wasn't the mole. Clyde might stand a chance at finding you on his own if Jansen and his lot weren't covering their internet traffic well enough, however you had far more faith in Garcia, despite the mere breadcrumbs you'd left behind. You hadn't known enough to leave behind more. However, together, the two parties should know enough to find you – Clyde had the profile you'd built on Jansen and his operation. Given everything you'd left for Garcia, the team would have all of the access to your old research. They would be able to isolate to local properties once they found the right folders that you'd left on top, and they'd be able to find you.

Aaron would be worried sick. You're already anticipating the lecture you're about to receive when you get back home. All about being more clear about your intentions and not leaving cryptic messages behind. It wouldn't matter that you'd try and fail to explain how you couldn't afford to be more clear for fear that someone else might also catch on. It wouldn't matter what you said to defend yourself. All he would see – all he would reiterate again and again – was that you left yourself open and vulnerable. He'd scoff at you insisting that you had faith in him, in the team. He'd rage against your insistence that this was the best way. The safest way.

Despite everything, in your head you don't hear the drum of your own doubts. Only his encouragement. His voice, which drowns out all of your fears. Reassurances that, soon, this too shall pass and you'll see him once again. He'd find you, no matter how enigmatic your clues might be. He'd find you.

He'd better find you before Jansen decided to ignore you and move.

*------------*

There's a gun in your hand once more. Thrust into it at the beginnings of sound from outside. Jansen's paranoia had kicked into full gear and Ramos had been deployed to scope out the perimeter. Nothing you said placated him any longer and you were wary of pushing your luck. He takes hold of Agent Cavanaugh, entrusting Novak to you. Both of their hands are wrapped behind their back, despite which, either one stood a decent chance at overpowering you had they been in a prime state. As it stood, Jansen had been pumping them both with something that made their reflexes slower and responses sluggish.

Your heart beats rapidly within your chest as you follow Jansen, with him leading Cavanaugh at gunpoint. Your hand is wrapped around Novak's arm, fingers tapping once more at that familiar pattern, regardless of whether or not the message is getting through. It is only as you turn the corner and meet Novak's eye, that you see that the glassy veneer to his eyes has lifted. Meeting yours, he offers an imperceptible nod – a flash of understanding. You're about to switch gears and take action, when Ramos rejoins the group and offers confirmation that there was indeed some movement outside. You're outgunned once more.

*------------*

Derek leads the group through the dark, his hand at the back of a SWAT agent. Hotch had put a tactical team on deck as soon as they'd made some leeway on potential locations you and two CIA operatives could be taken. This warehouse had been one of three locations isolated by Hawthorne as nearby options where someone could reasonably be held and were around back in the day. Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi were leading another team to an abandoned building in Virginia, while him, Reid, and Hotch had come to this other one on the outskirts of Philadelphia.

The third location had been ruled out – Garcia had determined that it had been the subject of an arson and triple homicide case from only a few weeks back. Local detectives had written it off as gang violence. None of them quite believed that given the circumstances, and so Garcia and Hawthorne were digging into it.

If anyone were to ask Derek what he thought of your ex paramour, he'd lie and say he hadn't much of an opinion. However, truth was, the guy had grown on Derek the last day or so. He'd come as soon as Hotch had called, likely having dropped whatever else he had going on. As a DA for the state of NY, Derek reckoned that hadn't been easy. He'd come quickly and while, yes, Derek was just a little annoyed at how Penelope blushed every single time the guy even looked her way, let alone called her Agent Garcia all nice and sweet, and asked her to look something up for him, Derek had to concede that he'd been helpful. He'd known exactly what to look for and all of them had been surprised by the sheer amount of research and area the two of you had covered in two years of looking into your father's businesses. Unfortunately, if Hawthorne was to be believed, the two of you had managed to only scratched the surface.

Regardless, as it stood, Derek could see how you and Hawthorne had worked, and he's a little relieved that not all of your exes were entirely trash. Even Hotch liked him. He might not have said anything, but Hotch had been a lot friendlier with the dude in only a day of working with him, than he'd been with Derek the entire first year. Prentiss had already chalked that up to you having a type  – Older. Lawyer. Smart. Ambitious. You could be sure that Prentiss would give you crap for that later, though Derek had seen her eyes rake over Hawthorne about half a dozen times too.

In his ear, he can hear both Hotch and Reid taking their respective positions, with Reid just a few agents behind him. The infrared scanner had already revealed there were people inside - four men circling the perimeter with another five people closer to the center. One of those bodies was far smaller than the others, which led them to assume it was you.

*------------*

The sounds of gunfire have both Jansen and Ramos barreling quickly towards the back exit, Jansen leading and Ramos right behind you. You had no opportunity to duck away and take Agent Novak with you. You had to continue to bide your time and hope that whoever it was –the team or Clyde – would look carefully before they shot.

Down one hallway and the next. Through one door and then another. Quickly and quickly. Feet pounding against the concrete. Gun still weighing down your hand, the other still holding on to Agent Novak. Neither him nor Cavanaugh have put up much of a struggle, liking leaving it to you to take the lead. You pray that you'd about to run into a SWAT team. Once you're out in the open and you don't have Ramos right behind you. Maybe then. Then you'd have your chance.

"F.B.I. Stop where you are!"

Jansen comes to a screeching halt right in front of you, the pathway in front blocked by a tactical team. You recognized that voice. You'd recognize it anywhere.

From behind Agent Novak, you make eye contact with Derek and he wordlessly asks if you're alright. You offer him only a perfunctory acknowledgement, eyes trained quickly once more on Jansen and Ramos. Your main priority was ensuring that both Agents Novak and Cavanaugh were alright.

"Jansen, give it up. You're surrounded," Derek proclaims, gun trained at the man. From beside him, four SWAT agents and Reid emerge, all guns pointed towards the five of you in the center. Your eyes search for Aaron.

Jansen turns back towards you, his eyes wild like a caged animal. "Shoot him," he orders, his gun pressing harshly into Agent Cavanaugh's back.

You don't move. You don't say anything.

"Shoot him," he repeats himself. "Now." He shoves Cavanaugh aside, who stumbles and falls to the ground in his drugged state. Jansen's gun is now pointed past Novak and right at you. He hadn't failed to notice your hesitation to follow his orders.

Your eyes flit up to Agent Novak and then back towards Derek before landing on Jansen's crazed expression once more. You can tell then, that if you don't do as he says, he'll shoot you.

Derek and the SWAT agents will follow protocol. They won't try to take him down while he's got a gun trained on both you and Novak. No sudden movements from the group.

"Jansen. Give it up man. There's no way out for you here. Don't make things worse for yourself." Derek speaks calmly, making a show of lowering his weapon slowly. Behind you, you become aware of Ramos's presence, his gun is trained on you as well, both him and his boss watching you intensely as you continue to defy his direct order.

"I'm not going to shoot a federal agent in front of the F.B.I." you tell him, shaking your head, your heart leaping into your throat as you felt the jut of Ramos's rifle at your back. His boss had given him the order. If you turn out to be not what you claim, shoot her. Shoot her and worry about the rest later.

Your hand holds the gun firmly still, the other still anchored to Agent Novak, ready to shove him to the ground in case of gunfire.

Out of the corner of your eye you can make out Reid from behind the SWAT guys, his gun trained on Jansen. You know what he's thinking. He's assessed the room the same as you. Ramos's view was slightly obstructed as he was still behind you and Novak. If it was timed right and Reid took down Jansen before Ramos had the chance to react, you had the ghost of a possibility to shove both yourself and Novak to the ground while SWAT got Ramos. It had to be Jansen first. Jansen had a clear view of you all and Ramos going down wouldn't allow you enough time. It's the only play.

You feel your body coil, ready to move, waiting for Reid's shot.

Jansen's maniacal eyes are still trained on you. You can feel the nudge of Ramos's gun to your back, imploring you to follow orders.

From the corner of your eye, you catch a beam of red light bouncing off the wall right behind Ramos's head. Assurance that they have him. They have him if you can move fast enough.

Each second that the standoff lasts seems to last a lifetime. You become highly aware – of your own heartbeat, of Agent Novak's muscles tensing under your touch, of Reid's shoulders, tensed and ready to take the shot. You're waiting. Waiting for that telltale sign as his right shoulder will flex just barely. That sign that tells you that his finger is ready to pull the trigger. That's what you're waiting for.

One second.

Jansen shifts from one foot to the other.

Two seconds.

Ramos's gun catches the zipper on the back of your jacket.

Three seconds.

Derek opens his mouth to say something again.

Four seconds.

The beam of red flits across your eyes once more.

Five seconds.

You go down.

Your ears ring from the aftermath of the loud gunshots as you lie on top of Agent Novak on the concrete flooring. In front of you, Jansen was dead, having been hit by two shots, one to the back and another to the chest, his gun slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor. Behind you, Ramos had fallen – single gunshot to the head.

You're aware just barely of Derek helping up both you and Novak, taking the gun from your hands and reengaging the safety. You feel his hands on your arms and his eyes looking you over to make sure you're alright. There's some SWAT guys and paramedics around, making sure both CIA agents are doing well. Reid is still standing where he was when he'd shot Jansen, his arms hanging by his side. You're half expecting to see a shell shocked look on his face, but when you look past Derek and meet his eye, he only smiles at you and you know he's alright.

"Hey, you sure you're okay, Princess? You gotta talk to me here," Derek implores, shaking you just slightly to draw your attention back towards him.

"Yeah," you respond shakily. "Yeah I'm – " You break off, as you look beyond his shoulder and see a far too familiar figure making its way down the ladder, a rifle slung behind its back.

The world stops.

Next thing you know, you've broken away from Derek and taken off in a run. Through the haze of people in the space, past Reid, until you collide into Aaron's chest, his arms wrapping tight around you as he manages to lift you fully off the ground, your legs wrapping around his haphazardly.

Home. You're home.

Aaron can scarcely believe he's holding you, breathing you in – you're here, in his arms. You're real.

The familiar weight of you in his arms feels like a totem, his anchor to reality. It was his reward for never quite believing anything had happened to you. His grace for holding true to his faith in you.

His hand curls behind your back and to your neck, lifting your head that's buried into his shoulder. He needs to see your face. He needs to know he isn't imagining this.

You tilt back to meet his gaze and he can see your panic and relief mixed together, the honeysuckle sweetness of your reunion coating and soothing over the acrid burnt taste left behind by your long absence and the past few days of torment and uncertainty. He can feel the tears slipping down his face as he holds you tighter, closer, your body trembling in his arms, a deep sob working its way through, streaks of tears painting lines down your cheeks.

But you're here. You're here and he has you and that's all that matters as he feels your lips against his, causing his heart to wobble, your hands in his hair and around his shoulders, the wetness of your tears mixing together, no awareness of the surrounding world or the people awaiting the two of you. Screw people. People could wait.

You're here.

[onrainynights]

why you can't compare buddie to destiel (from someone who ships both)

this is kind of addressing the recent negativity in the buddie tag, but it's also a collection of my thoughts and reasoning for being buddie-positive despite my experiences with destiel and spn in general. the text of 911 is not really discussed at all, and this is relatively spoiler-free, so if you're thinking of watching 911 I encourage you to read it. if you haven't seen both shows it probably won't make perfect sense, but I wrote this with spn fans who haven't seen 911 in mind, since that's most of my followers (and also seems to be where much of the negativity was coming from) pretty long post under the cut to save your dash

I just want to prepare y'all for the fact that buddie could be the slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance we've been waiting for practically forever.

at this point it's not fair to call it queerbait because where their relationship is now fits the characters and their development. this is not like destiel, where there were many moments over the years that could've ended with them getting together and it would've made sense with the story. buddie right now is in this sweet, wholesome pre-relationship kind of place, which on its own is a compelling dynamic and so fun and good to see. a resolution of it right now would feel out of character—they both still have some development to do before that would feel natural. and so, I don't think we can really call it queerbaiting unless the characters get to that point and there is still no resolution.

also I'd like to point out the overall positivity from the cast when it comes to buddie. both Eddie's and Buck's actors have said (I'm paraphrasing cast statements in this post unless they are in quotations) positive things about the pairing, and Buck's actor has said that he likes the interpretation of Buck as queer, and he would be happy if the writers took his character in that direction. also Eddie's actor with "that's what they all say" when buddie was referred to as a "bromance". Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Buck's sister (another main character), is very supportive of buddie, saying she's "rooting for it", that it would be "amazing", she doesn't "see how it couldn't happen one day". this was in response to hearing that a fan insists Buck and Eddie will be a couple. She flat-out said "I think so, too." She jokes about buddie with Buck's and Eddie's actors all the time. Also, my favorite bit from the video of her saying all this, "Let's manifest it together!"

It's safe to say this is a VERY different environment to spn. I don't think I've ever seen a cast this positive about a show's main non-canon queer ship before. NEVER. I think it's safe to say that if/when buddie is canonized, the cast will be just as excited as the fans—at least JLH will be! Add into the fact that the show's PR seems to be leaning into bi buck and buddie right now, it's a VERY different vibe than spn had, definitely. There's no gaslighting of the fans here, at least not that I've seen. also, although 911 has a large casual viewership, I think it's safe to say the GA would not be upset by buddie—there are only 3 serious, long-term romantic relationships involving main characters in this show, and one of them is a lesbian marriage with two children. And yes, the characters are shown being lesbians, it's not just a stated fact; the audience is privy to their relationship (and their interactions with their adorable kids). I think it's safe to say that buddie would go over well with the fans, even the casual viewers (of which there are many). buddie doesn't seem to be a huge divider in fandom like destiel is, either. reactions generally seem to be either "I ship it" or "I don't care either way."

Also I'd like to point out that while yes, it's possible that buddie is only bait (which would be disappointing), there's a reason queerbaiting works. people WANT to be queerbaited, because it's nearly indistinguishable from a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance. queerbaiting allows fans to make theories, create fan content (including fic), and keeps them engaged with the dynamic and the show. fans who are vulnerable to queerbaiting want a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance, which is currently an almost completely untapped market. spn could've tapped it, but despite the huge fandom they did not. there are SO MANY people outside of spn fandom who want a slow burn mlm romance, one that keeps the audience guessing, one that's will they/won't they, one that is not guaranteed, and that is why queerbaiting works so well. the audience doesn't just want the payoff, they also want the build-up. the longer the build-up, the higher the payoff, and the suspense of the build-up is gone if you know from the start that the payoff is definitely coming. that's part of why malec from shadowhunters didn't fully tap this market—there was no question of if, only the question of when (which wasn't really a question either, given there was an episode in season 1 literally titled "malec" when they got together.) the characters were always queer, the show being an adaptation of a book series where they were in a relationship and eventually had children together.

this was why November 5th was such a big deal—fans were so far past the will they/won't they aspect of destiel, firmly believing that destiel would always end as a "won't they" and not a "will they" that when cas confessed his romantic love for dean, destiel trended on Twitter over the US election. you all know that story, but maybe not everyone reading this knows that after Nov. 5 there was a case of hundreds if not thousands of spn fans experiencing love sickness because of the confession scene. the payoff of making destiel fully canon (and reciprocated, in English) would've been huge. fans would've been throwing their money at the c/w.

which leads me to the possibility (this is not at all me saying that I think this happened or even is likely, just that it's one possibility that /could/ have happened) that buddie started as bait, that the writers never intended for them to be a couple, but saw fan reactions to buddie during season 2 and started to lean into it in season 3 (and 4 so far, but it just started so I don't want to make any generalized statements about it) possibly still as bait or maybe not deciding yet if they'll go anywhere with it. and then maybe they saw destiel trending on November 5th, realized just how BIG the market for a slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance is, and said "hey, we already have the foundations for one of those. why not go for it and draw in all those viewers who clearly want one so badly?"

if buddie goes canon, because the cast and PR have been so positive about it, unlike spn, and because of the text of the show itself, the show's creatives could VERY EASILY claim that they were never baiting, that it was all an intentional slow burn will they/won't they romance from the beginning, and most people would believe them; there isn't really any evidence to the contrary, although I am sure there would be at least a few fans convinced it started as queerbaiting, and there might not be any evidence to refute that, either.

the point is that 911 is currently sitting on a gold mine. if they play their cards right, and execute buddie well, they will monopolize this market that old straight white men serving as network executives have failed so far to really tap into. they queerbait without the payoff, which gives the show a reputation among those in the market who haven't seen it, guaranteeing they will never watch it. shows in this vein: sherlock (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like) and spn (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like). spn got so, so close with cas's confession but then continued to gaslight its fans, and PR did not lean into destiel AT ALL. if 911 did buddie? the PR team would be all over it. it would be a moneymaker, big time, and Fox knows it. if buddie, or even just bi buck, went canon, tumblr would be all over it. viewership for the show, which is already impressive, would skyrocket. 911 would monopolize this market, because fans wary of queerbaiting would watch it with the knowledge that the payoff is there, and there really wouldn't be a competitor until other shows saw the success of buddie and followed suit with their own pairings, and given the fact that the market specifically wants /slow burn/ queer romances, that might take a couple years. that puts 911 in a really good position, where suddenly the fandom of the show, not just the GA, is very large and likely very dedicated to the show. the success of canon buddie might just change the landscape of TV in the coming years, showing execs that while queerbaiting does work, actually going through with it is really where the money is. 911 would not just monopolize the market for a while; it would pioneer it.

if buddie never goes canon, I would probably be a bit disappointed at the wasted potential, but unless the characters get to that point where canon buddie seems like the most logical outcome and they /don't/ go for it, I won't be truly upset because I don't think it's fair to claim its queerbaiting until then. I can't tell you how likely it is that buddie will be canon at some point, but it seems FAR more likely than destiel /ever/ did, and we ended up getting cas's confession in the end. I have hope, despite being hurt so badly by spn. 911 is a genuinely great show with some fantastic writing, and they don't leave chekov's gun unfired, unlike spn.

really, it comes down to this: if Jennifer Love Hewitt is allowed to clown for buddie, then so am I, and I'll enjoy this show—which is amazing even without canon buddie—while I apply my clown makeup.

[boldlyanxious]

Remember when 23

Call me Maybe

Remember when masterlist

All fic masterlist

Tim almost dropped his phone in his hurry to answer. He didn't expect his phone to make a sound again until he changed the settings back but the picture of Marinette flashed on the screen with her name at the incoming call. He was feeling a bit breathless after the excitement of trying to keep hold of his phone and also because she was calling him. He tried to keep his voice even when he answered anyway.

"Hello?" He waited for a response but she didn't respond. He assumed she had to bully herself into calling a bit so he kept his voice calm so she wouldn't hang up.

"Hello… are you there?" He waited again before softly saying, "Please talk to me Marinette."

That was his first clue that something was wrong. There was no response on the line but he could hear someone talking near the phone.

"Well isn't that something, Marinette? Clearly you are hiding something if you aren't even giving out the right name."

The sudden silence signaled that the call had ended. A feeling of cold horror tightened painfully in his stomach. He suspected things were going very bad for her and that he had just managed to make them far worse.

---

Barb was surprised to see Bruce in the cave when she entered. It was just as well though. They would need everyone for this. He didn't even notice her until she spoke. He looked like he had been there quite a while based on his posture and discarded plate and mug. She felt a bit bad that he felt the need to hide in his own house. She decided to just skip right over the awkward and get straight to the mission.

"Everyone is coming now to suit up," she said. "Looks like it might be a long night. Alfred is bringing tea and coffee."

He faltered for a moment. He was surprised she was talking to him. Especially after he had spent the last few hours reading all the information Tim had compiled about Rouge Gorge aside from their interactions with her. She hadn never gotten much news coverage because her saves were rather small in comparison to the Rogues or the organized crime that the bats usually dealt with.

Tim had talked to the criminals and the victims of hundreds of crimes where the response was always that she was dedicated and focused. She was friendly, efficient and never used unnecessary force. Some of the reports went back even further than when she had caught Red Robin on the rooftop and definitely before they knew anything about the new drug. He pulled away from the computer, not quite getting the folder closed before she saw it. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly but he pretended not to notice.

"What do we know?" he asked, avoiding the awkwardness for now.

"It appears to be a coordinated attack on the drug ring. Reports indicate even more locations are being attacked than we have information on."

She pulled up a map to display as others started arriving. Bruce stepped away to suit up. Robin was already there and Black Bat. Dick and Steph came down but she said that Hood would join them out there along with Arsenal. No one had heard from Tim since Barb had left his place.

"Who is leading the attack? Who even had that kind of resources?" Dick asked.

"It seems to be mostly coming from Falcone, probably for revenge. They are being joined by other gangs to fight for the right for territory and distribution," Barb said.

"Splitting the distribution among several gangs could limit the spread of the drug. Especially if we can interrupt the process," Steph said.

"It's too early to know for sure, but I think Penguin is using the chaos to make a move. It looks like he is banding gangs together for greater force. Whether he is doing this with Falcone or as a counter move is unknown." Barb said.

"Let's see what we can find out tonight." Batman said, moving toward the exit.

---

She was surprised to be pushed down onto a cushioned surface before the cloth was removed from her eyes. The drive had been short and silent before they moved her in. She looked around the room from the old couch she was sitting on. She wasn't surprised at all to see the drug dealer from the party in front of her. Lt. Howard Branden, if she was remembering the information from the meeting she ran from before her disappearance a few months ago.

There was no sign of the other 2 he had been working with before but the group was exactly who Batman promised to turn her over to if she didn't give him more information. She knew that Batman sometimes worked with the police and Branden was, or maybe had been, a police officer with the SWAT team. She didn’t pretend to know how any of that could work but it did seem like a possible connection.

She was surprised to see the guy she had met at the party who had tried to use her for free drugs. He looked like he was currently on drugs but was seemingly willing enough to be there that he wasn't bound in any way. The leader was already looking through her phone and she could see another trying to get into her laptop. She basically had no information on her phone. It was as low tech as she could manage to find. She could see some device attached that would probably get past her 4 digit PIN. She knew it wasn't very secure but it was a burner phone with 3 saved numbers and no names. She tended to reset it frequently.

"Work, T and A. Sounds like you know what you want out of life. But look at that history. No calls in days."

Marinette shifted herself but didn't try to talk through the gag. She just watched him and hoped she could find a way out of this as he continued.

"You friend, Dustin, here told me all he knew about you but it doesn't seem like anyone knows very much. He couldn’t even get much from his friend who works with you. Apparently no one knows much about you.”

He removed the gag. But she said nothing.

"Who are you?"

"Meg," she said, offering only information he already had.

He stepped closer.

"Why is that the only information anyone knows about you, Meg?"

"I'm a private person."

"Hmm. So who is this ex in your phone. You don’t even have a name in there. I thought he had broken up with you but based on your messages you dumped him."

She looked away rather than answering.

"He wanted you to call back. Shall we try it?"

She tried to jump up and stop him when he pushed the call button but one of the henchmen blocked her. She could hear the ringing tone and then heard Tim answer. Her mouth was covered again so she couldn't call out to him but she could hear him still trying to get a response. His third try to get her to talk he gave the only clue the man before her needed.

"Well isn't that something? He called you Marinette. Clearly you are hiding something if you aren't even giving out the right name."

He hung up the phone and set it down while watching her. The man preventing her from talking removed his hand and pushed her so she fell back onto the couch.

"What does it matter to you?" she asked.

"He is like really into you," Dustin said. "He found me after that party and asked me to help him find out more about you."

"That's it. I'm interested to know all about you. Do you ever get dressed up and go out?"

"You had men kidnap me for a date?"

Marinette was fairly certain he meant something else by his question but she was certainly not going to just follow where he wanted to lead her. Batman may have told him who she was but he had nothing if she didn't confirm it and he couldn't prove anything. Even breaking into her electronics couldn't get him that information. Without finding the magical box they would have no evidence. All her non-magical equipment burned in the fire.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by movement from the henchmen. He went up to talk to the man. They spoke in low voices for a few minutes and she had a bad feeling about whatever was being discussed. After a few minutes all the others left the room. They took her phone and laptop and one of them guided a stumbling Dustin away with them. When he caught her gaze he walked closer to her. She fought to keep her breaths even but he sat directly in front of her refusing to look away.

Tags

Next

@silverwhiteraven | @ira-sairain | @iloveitwhen | @wannajointhecrabcult | @toodaloo-kangaroo | @ertyzeta | @no-username2544 | @mystery-5-5 | @laurcad123 | @jiso-lee | @razzledazzle247 | @kaithehero | @diamondjewel123 | @comet-kun | @junarvion | @roselynfey | @moongoddesskiana | @cresentmo0n | @2confused-2doanything | @officiallydarkgeek | @athena452 | @nach0 | @ladybug-182 | @ladylb | @redscarlet95 | @bigpicklebananatree | @swiftie-miraculer13 | @kokotaru | @damnaged-princess | @i-wanna-be-a-ninja | @velvetterabby | @deepestobservationwombat | @nathleigh | @trippingovermyfeet | @kking13 | @dast218 | @too0bsessedformyowngood | @user00000003 | @roguishredaxion | @enternalempires | @faunrasthewinterelf | @miraculouspenta | @maskedpainter | @jalaluvsu | @ichigorose | @theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha

I feel like a lot more of the tags didn't want to work today so if you didn't get tagged but expected to be give me any secrets you know because I'm bad at this

[kikilefangirl]

Owed Part 2

Steve Rogers x reader

(Word Count: 2689)

(Gif not mine, but I love it)

The view from your penthouse was everything you could ask for after a long night.

“I want you and the team waiting for me in Paris by next week. You know the drill.” You said, picking up one file in particular.

You ignored Mo’s groan and whatever it was she was trying to explain. You grimaced at the photo staring back at you.

Alexander Pierce. He was long dead, but some of his associates had yet to be uncovered. The name of one in particular caught you off guard. Avon. Presumed dead, body never recovered.

The images of his face hovering over you, forcing you to use your powers bombarded your senses. You crumpled the paper out of instinct. He was too slippery to be dead, and you were going to make sure he really was.

“I have another job that requires my attention. Solo.” You told her.

Mo nodded at your seriousness and pulled out a pair of pearl earrings. You marveled at their simple beauty. After living a life filled with ugly things, you had earned each and every luxury.

“Recording device made in your style, boss. Leverage, if need be.” Mo explained. You immediately put them on and smirked.

“Thanks, Mo. Now tell me how distro went.” You sat across from her, taking time to compare notes and make sure all the money was delivered to all the right people.

You took ten percent. Your team got five per person. And the rest, went to your people. Stacks of money left on project window sills, in a fifth grader’s backpack during the afterschool rush, left in a college kid’s dorm room. The money was scattered across the city, securely in the hands of struggling black families who certainly weren’t getting help from anyone else.

You nodded, impressed with the good team you had and their dedication to your cause. It was exactly why you couldn’t let them get involved in your personal agenda.

“Lock up for me. See you, Mo.”

You grabbed your purse from the counter and headed out the door.

…

It had been one of those restless nights Steve was becoming more and more familiar with.

He and Sam stayed up all night trying to get Bucky to remember you. Anything about you, actually. Confirmation that your name was really Y/N, more clarity on your powers. Steve did not appreciate the interruption that was Tony Stark busting into the room.

“Heard you had a special night, Boy Scout. Too bad you couldn’t get laid in the process. Anyway, the bombshell you ran into stole thirty million dollars up under your noses.” Tony announced.

So that’s what you were buying time for. A robbery. Steve placed his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Anything useful, Stark?” Steve asked begrudgingly.

He was going through a dozen or more screens, his mind going a mile a minute. Tony hadn’t even acknowledged Sam or Bucky and probably wasn’t going to. His attention was solely on whatever information he was fixated on.

“Got her. She looked directly at the camera on fifteenth.” Tony said in an annoyed voice. He blew up the photo, and it was definitely you. You were dressed more casually than last night, but the way you held your chin, the slight part in your lips, everything was the same.

Steve couldn’t help the small smile that found its way on his face. You weren’t hiding from him or anyone. Bold, if nothing else.

“Find out if there are any Hydra members that were never caught and cross reference with her file. If it matches, she’s going after them.” Steve said.

Bucky had a lost look in his eyes, something Steve had learned was his knee jerk reaction to anything Hydra. His friend had lost so much to those people, and he could only imagine what Hydra took from you.

“What’s our next play, Cap?” Sam asked. Steve reached for his shield.

“Suit up. And don’t let her get a beat on you.”

…

Access to Avon’s office wasn’t hard.

You slipped into the building afternoon rush, right off the street. Using the security officers to bypass each checkpoint, making it into his private office wasn’t hard, either.

You kept your head held high as you opened the door, making sure to have each guard flank you. Avon was sitting at his desk going through papers when you strut into the room.

“Six eight three.” He said, his panic never outweighing fascination. You sat down in the chair across from him, never once breaking eye contact on the way down.

“Hi, doc. You didn’t forget about my promise, did you?” You asked.

He was much older than before. His salt and pepper hair had gone gray and he shaved off his mustache. For all intents and purposes, Avon looked like a normal old man. His unassuming appearance hid the evil he had committed in his life from plain view.

But you knew as soon the good doctor laid eyes on you, he hadn’t changed at all. The same lingering gaze still made your skin crawl.

You spurred into action. In an instant, you had Avon under your spell, guiding him towards you.

“The roof. Move.” You prodded.

As he trudged on completely at your mercy, and you knew he’d be dead by nightfall. It was the only ending you could accept. The ghost of his needles and his gloves fingers pressing into your skin over and over again...

And the memories always stayed.

You clenched your jaw as all the anger and hurt tried to bubble up to the surface. You couldn’t even lose your cool to a dead man walking. He needed to die with the image of the woman you had become in his mind, not the little girl who cried until she had no tears left.

Your little group calmly made it up to the roof. It was bare for the most part. Cold. Gravelly, too. You flinched as the strain of occupying so many minds grew the longer you held it.

“Please. Please, six eught three.” Avon cried. Bastard couldn’t even call you by your name, even if he knew it. Just an experiment number.

You reared back and decked him square in the face. Blood dripped from his nose as he stumbled back. You could see the wild eyes of a mad scientist, admiring his handiwork.

You snarled and tagged him again, forcing him to the ground. He whimpered as you squatted down next to him, knife in hand.

You were about to kill him yourself, but a wicked thought came to mind.

“You worked so hard to make me, doc, it’s only right you offer me the same courtesy.” You whispered devilishly.

As you rose to your feet, so did Avon. He trembled all over, but he had no retort, no defense, no excuse. Avon made you to his standards; he knew exactly what you were capable of and how efficient you were in the field.

You offered him the knife and he took it with shaky hands. He would die by his hands, the same hands responsible for the death of hundreds. A familiar feeling stirred within you, your powers intensifying.

Avon’s eyes glazed over with purple for a second, before returning to their usual brown. His death would dox you from the country for years to come, and if it rid him from the world, then so be it.

“Y/N! I know what they did!”

Steve.

He’d seen your little message, because he and Bucky were running full speed a rooftop away. Their powerful bodies absorbed the impact and kept them moving, with Steve pulling slightly ahead of Bucky. There had to be more.

A glimpse of movement above you alerted you to Sam. When you met him in person, he seemed normal enough, but maybe he was enhanced. That left you to deal with three bogeys alone.

Good thing you were good at improvising.

“I know what he did.” Steve said in between ragged breaths.

He had just landed on the other end of your rooftop with Bucky just a few yards away from him. The two men had their whole get ups on, minus the helmet. His blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his chest heaved from the effort.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. You just stared out at Steve without releasing your hold on Avon. If he knew about the doctor, he had to know what Hydra trained you for. Violence and death was always going to be your path, at least with Avon you’d get a say about who, where, or when.

“You should’ve stayed in your tower, this doesn’t involve you.” You warned. Steve was supposed to be a story you told about the time you met Captain America, and now he was in front of you again.

Where your last meeting was fun and playful, it wasn’t just business anymore. A hardness that came from years of waiting for the chance to end your torturer once and for all outweighed any new feelings you might have had.

“You tried, Steve,” You added, just loud enough for him to hear.

Steve shook his head and a hard determination settled in his face.

“We’re not done yet,” He said. Your hair blew from the wind behind you, and your eyes glowed purple. With a wave of your hand, Avon stabbed himself in the gut.

With a strangled cry, the scientist dropped to his knees.

At the same time, you let go of the security guards and they clambered for the exit. Taking advantage of their spectacle, your powers seized on Bucky. Beads of sweat trickled down your face from the effort of Bucky’s mind alone.

The man stilled for a split second as his eyes turned purple. In the next breath he was tackling Steve, seeing his friend as Alexander Pierce.

You picked him because was probably one of the few people who could hold Steve back until the task was complete. It made tactical sense, and you had to make your little tricks last.

The irony and guilt of controlling a man who had lived a long life under the thumb of others with no free will, wasn’t lost on you. It had to be done.

Avon’s cries became louder and his blood was everywhere, the strong sickly smell burned your nostrils. You stared at the dying man without an ounce of regret.

Just before you commanded a second strike, Bucky had pinned Steve to the ground and you let go of your hold on him. Avon would be dead soon enough and it wouldn’t take long for Steve to go after you once freed.

Avon opened his mouth in a silent cry, his teeth bloodstained as he tried to stay alive. You hovered over him and spat.

“Hail Hydra,” You snarled. His gurgles were the tell tale sign he was fading fast, choking on his own blood. You wondered how many black girls Avon had deemed failed experiments until he succeeded with you.

As you began to make your escape, a shot rang out.

Avon’s body fell backwards as the bullet pierced his skull. Even though your heart raced and you couldn’t hear much of anything, looked up and it clicked immediately.

Bucky was standing with his gun still pointing at Avon. The lone shell casing laid at his feet. Everything went into an uneasy silence with each person waiting to fall off the edge.

Steve flung his shield your way, and it caught you in the shoulder. You fell backwards, and black spots interrupted your vision. For a moment you laid there in a daze.

Steve hovered over you, flipping you on your stomach, holding your hands behind your back. You struggled against him, to no avail. Taking a deep breath, you surveyed your surroundings.

“It didn’t have to go like this,” Steve said wistfully. You stilled, and only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional gravel crunching under your weight.

Bucky was behind you somewhere, and you were eye level with Avon’s body. It sent an involuntary chill down your spine.

Sam had been circling the skies above the chaos, and he would be your way out. It was over once he landed in your line of sight.

You made Bucky the target. Sam made a beeline for the brunette with a twisted face. You bucked up at Steve, who wasn’t easily moved, but he didn’t need to be. The second he looked down, you had him under your grasp.

But once the super soldier lifted you to your feet, you let him go, indulging for one last time. No powers.

You leaned into Steve and crashed your lips onto his. In response, he gripped your waist, and held one of your hands in his. You snaked your other one up to the nape of his neck, nudging him even closer to you, if that was possible.

For at least one moment in time, the two of you were utterly and completely lost in each other.

You slowly pulled away from him, the fantasy disintegrating before your eyes and his. Phantom heat from his lips still warmed your own as Steve’s conflicted gaze stared down at you.

You blinked and quickly regained control, this time showing Steve his first love. It was a dark haired woman with bold red lipstick. She seemed strong and daring.

You regained your focus.

Luckily, Bucky hadn’t gotten to Sam yet. You broke out in an all out run, drawing him nearer. He believed he was holding Steve up instead of you, and that he was taking him to their tower. In reality, he was flying you to a drop off point at the docks. The strain of Steve’s mind and Sam’s was taking a toll. You ran faster.

In seconds he dove down towards you, taking you up in the air with him. Steve was out of range after the first block. But Bucky’s haunted gaze was stamped into your brain, even as his figure disappeared on the horizon.

The weight that he had helped you kill Avon was something you two would share forever, just like that cell. You gulped and wondered what he would tell Steve about you.

The wind whipped everywhere as you soared through the air. It was a welcome noise to black out the silence.

When you landed, you took the opportunity to make Sam sleep. When he awoke in an empty shipping container he was sure to have a headache, but he’d be fine more or less.

You stumbled to the guard, whose eyes widened at your haggard appearance. Your shirt was full of dirt stains, you had Avon’s blood on your jeans—your saving grace was the fact that you made it in time.

“There must be a mistake, this ship travels during the night shift.” He said.

You pushed a stray strand of hair out of your face and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for the one that leaves at dawn. To see the sunrise.” You replied.

Titan and his games. You clicked your tongue, antsy at being out in the open for so long.

The guard guided you up the port, to a massive ship. As you boarded, the man led you to a room deep in the heart of the vessel.

As soon as the door opened, you smiled at the older man in a Captain’s uniform.

“You smell like shit.” He told you, motioning towards the decadent bathroom. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You’re a lifesaver, T.” You said. All of your things were waiting for you in the bedroom. The guard had disappeared.

Titan walked past you, and out the door without another word. You thanked your lucky stars you had friends and favors to collect all around the world.

Finally alone and safe, you shrugged your shoulders and stripped everything off. A hot bath was waiting for you. The water swayed softly as you got in and the boat left the port.

You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax in the heat.

“Paris.”

[thewayshedreamed]

Fight or Flight— Nessian AU

This one-shot goes out to @bookstantrash 💕 

Thank you so much for the prompt— “I almost lost you.” for Nessian! Prompt is in bold within the post.

Warnings for strong language + mentions of combat and injury

——————————————————————————

Cassian fell into his office chair around 4:30 PM, the force rocking him back a little. He squinted his eyes and pinched his scrunched nose between his thumb and forefinger as he willed this Cauldron-foresaken day to end.

It had been a long day of strategy meetings, supplemental trainings, drills, and checkrides. He had a rather uncomfortable conversation with a cocky little shit of a pilot, who carried himself as if the other members of his flight were there to provide a backdrop for his greatness. Overall, his flight team was skilled, dedicated, and they treated him with so much respect that it surprised him at times. Not that he wasn’t deserving of that respect, having risen through the ranks with impressive speed since joining the military as an airman all those years ago.

According to his superior officers, he was one of the finest pilots for generations, and he had shown a natural ability for leadership as early as basic training. He was dedicated to being fair, set high standards for the members of his flight, and considered their input as frequently as he could. In return, they made his job somewhat easier by executing his orders flawlessly and in a timely manner. Most of the time, anyway.

The loud rumble in his stomach reminded him that he had skipped lunch. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, but he tried not to lament over small things considering they were at war. There was never enough time, and he’d adapted over the years to running on very little when necessary. He rubbed his eyes roughly with his palms, blinking against the light coming in from the window and looked to see what tasks remained for the day. Nothing that couldn’t wait for Monday.

He grabbed his jacket and aviator sunglasses as he stood, put them on, and walked out of his small office a little early.

“Would you like me to forward your calls, Captain Mortel?”

“You know me well, Nuala,” he said with quick wink. “You wouldn’t happen to know if Captain Spion is back, would you?”

”He’s gone for the day,” a deep voice called from several office spaces down the hall.

“Never mind. That answers my question,” he chuckled. “Have a good weekend.”

”You too, Captain,” she said with a small smile.

He walked the several paces down the hallway to Azriel’s office, hoping to drag him out early along with him. He leaned in the doorway, offering a small knock on the door jamb with his knuckle. Azriel looked up from his desk, leaned back, and ran his hands down his face.

“You look like you had the same day I had,” Cassian said through a laugh.

Azriel gave an ironic-sounding laugh in return. “Was your day a complete shit show? Because if so, you would be correct.”

”Almost makes me miss the days where all I had to worry about was my own plane and my checkrides,” he replied wistfully.

”Don’t pretend you worried about your scores. False humility doesn’t suit you.” Azriel stood from his desk to gather his things.

Cassian laughed, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I seem to remember you doing okay for yourself, too.”

It was true. They were almost terrifying as members of the same flight, and they regularly set the bar for the rest of the pilots. Both of them extended their help wherever the could, aiming to improve their fellow airmen’s performances in everything from confidence to specific maneuvers. When they’d each climbed the ranks to Captain, it was almost poetic that they became flight commanders within the same squadron.

They walked out of the building together, discussing where and when they were going to meet up to drown this day in whiskey. They decided they would meet at the bar after they both showered and ate dinner. Speaking of which, he realized he had almost nothing in his apartment for food. He decided to go by the commissary to grab a few things to cook, hoping that maybe he was early enough to get in and out quickly.

The gods had mercy on him, and he found himself standing in the short checkout line within minutes. He zoned out while he waited, his gaze fixed toward the commissary doors as he daydreamed. His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar head of golden brown hair entered his line of sight.

Nesta Archeron, a brilliant intelligence officer who he had the frequent pleasure of running into on base. His first encounters with her were short, mere introductions before she shared relevant information to his superior officers. He had served as a liaison as well, traveling to her building to make requests or gather information on behalf of his Commander.

They started to share pleasantries when they would run into each other, asking benign questions about each others’ days or commenting on things around base. She was stunning, her features elegant and soft. And those eyes. They seemed to cut through him like no one else’s ever had. He’d basically word-vomited the fact that she was beautiful one day and asked her out for dinner. She’d chuckled and tapped him on the top of his shoulder with a cupped hand before stating, “That’s not a good idea, Captain.” Then, she had just walked away.

Not that he had certain expectations, but he was always a little perturbed by her sheer indifference anytime they spoke. He hadn’t changed how he interacted with her after she shut him down, not wanting her to think his kindness hadn’t been genuine, but it wore on him that she never seemed to drop her mask of politeness. Quite honestly, he was used to people liking him pretty readily, his charm and warm demeanor immediately putting them at ease. Nesta Archeron was not most people, though. That was probably the reason, he mused, that he’d been thinking about her basically every godsdamned free minute he had in the day. She was an enigma, and he felt compelled to figure her out.

——————————————————————————

He was on his second whiskey, listening to the band that was playing and making idle conversation with Azriel. He noticed a group of women nearby who kept looking over at them, and a drink appeared in front of Az minutes later. He chuckled, leaning in to Azriel to taunt him a little, but the words died on his tongue.

Walking in across the bar was none other than Nesta. She was in a short-sleeved red dress that kicked out just a little at the waist, falling at her knees. Her hair was in a low chignon, curls pinned around her face and a delicate comb tucked in close to the bun. She was smiling, speaking to an incredibly petite woman with short, dark hair. He recognized her from the intelligence office; Amren, he believed.

His mouth dried up as his eyes trailed Nesta’s long legs, landing on the pair of black pumps she wore on her feet. He tried, and probably failed, to be subtle in looking at her, but the red lipstick that graced her lips was killing him. He was so jealous of that stupid fucking lipstick.

“You should go talk to her,” Azriel said. He jumped slightly, having almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. Not so subtle, obviously.

Cassian shook his head and cleared his throat. “I’m good. You don’t have to babysit, you know. I think you owe someone a ‘thank you’ dance for the drink,” he deflected.

Az gave him a small, sideways smile. He was almost bashful when this sort of thing happened to him, which was a lot, now that Cassian thought about it. His knew his eyes were already searching for Nesta against his will, and he decided that maybe he should give up trying to ignore her.

“Tell you what. You go say your thanks, and I’ll go ask Archeron to dance with me.”

”Easy for you to say. You know her already.”

”Exactly. Which means that I know I’ll likely get shut down. I’m doing this for you, brother.”

”How noble of you,” Azriel said, as he knocked back the rest of his whiskey and rose to his feet.

——————————————————————————

It took him a third whiskey and several more minutes to even consider standing up to find Nesta. He knew Azriel would never let him live it down if he didn’t go over there, but he took his time deciding if his pride would better survive Azriel’s eternal taunts or Nesta’s rejection.

You are a fucking pilot and flight commander who has to lead dozens of men every day. You can handle asking a woman to dance with you. Go talk to her, you idiot.

Turns out, his inner monologue was kind of a dick.

He rose to his feet, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. She was sitting at a table with Amren and several other women, a glass of neat whiskey in front of her. He felt that summed her up pretty readily; a glass of whiskey among glasses of sugary white wine.

Good thing he liked whiskey.

He mastered himself enough to walk over and silently cursed the short curls at the top of his head for falling against his brow. He didn’t like the look of a buzz cut, but he also didn’t love that the curls on the top of his head had a mind of their own most of the time. Her eyes fell to his as he approached, and she him offered a small smile.

“Captain Mortel. To what do I owe the pleasure outside of work hours?” she teased. Whiskey agreed with her, he thought. Her friends fell silent at their exchange, watching with rapt attention.

“Cassian, ma’am,” he corrected with a small smile. The formality of her address irritated him.

He looked around the table, offering a broad, genuine smile. “I apologize for interrupting, ladies. I have some critical information to share with Miss Archeron. That is, if you all are willing to spare her.” His eyes flitted to hers. She may have been immune to his charms, but it didn’t seem like that applied to her friends as they adamantly insisted they didn’t mind. They all but hauled her to her feet, Amren offering a subtle push at her lower back.

“Lead the way, Cassian.” The way she said his first name was so intentional that he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was distracted by his thoughts of other ways he’d like to hear her saying his name.

“I think it’s best discussed on the dance floor, Miss Archeron.” He had one arm bent behind him, resting on the small of his back, the other extended to her, palm up.

She took his hand heavily, showing him she knew exactly what he was up to. She followed nonetheless, and once they reached their destination, he gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He placed his large hand on her waist, and lifted the other in his as he lead them across the floor.

“Nesta,” she said, still looking over his shoulder.

“Pardon?”

”Call me Nesta.” Her steel blue eyes met is, and he swore he saw them soften a fraction. “So, what is so important that it couldn’t wait for Monday?”

“Ah. That. Well, truth be told, I didn’t have anything all that critical to tell you,” he paused, laughing softly when she looked at him with an expression that said, no shit.

”I hope you’ll forgive me. It just didn’t seem suitable to wait for Monday to tell you how devastating you look tonight. It’s hardly appropriate workplace conversation.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” There was no irritation in her voice, nor did she move away from him.

“So I’ve been told.”

He pulled her a fraction closer, and she let him.

——————————————————————————

They’d swayed together for song after song that night, taking short breaks at a small take next to the dance floor. They were talking about anything and everything, their laughter carrying through the small venue when there was a break between songs. At some point, they had started sharing one glass of whiskey rather than opting for two.

Cassian knew he was totally and royally fucked.

He walked her out later that night when her group of friends started to tire out. He stopped just outside the doors, and her friends walked slowly ahead, allowing them some privacy. He curled his index finger under her chin, and eased her face upward to look at him. His other arm was secure behind his back; the only place he trusted it to be.

”I had a lot of fun. Be careful going home, yeah?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to risk her becoming shy at the thought of her friends overhearing them.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, giving him a small nod.

“I had fun, too,” she breathed. The corners of her lips drew up slightly, retrained by the secure pressure her teeth had on her lower lip yet again. She might have been the death of him.

Before he could think better of it, he raised his thumb to stroke her cheek and had to clench his other fist when she leaned into his hand to keep from pulling her to him. He swallowed thickly, hoping his voice would come out more stable than he felt.

“Goodnight, Nesta.”

”Goodnight, Cassian.” She turned her face, placing a soft kiss to the tender part of his palm at the base of his thumb before she turned to leave.

She left him standing there, dumbfounded and grinning like a fool. He looked down at his palm, the soft lip print left by her red lips, and closed his fist before he walked inside to find Azriel.

——————————————————————————

In the days that followed, nothing changed. He remained insanely busy each day and saw Nesta minimally. He wished there were more reasons for him to travel to her office and visa versa, but he had likely exhausted his fill of luck on that Friday night.

His world turned on its head on Wednesday as the alarm sounded. There were no scheduled drills that he was aware of, and his heart leapt into his throat. He saw Azriel running into the hangar from another direction, his eyes locking on Cassian’s. They approached each other, their postures already morphing into the leaders they were called to be. It was Azriel who spoke first.

“Incoming air attack. Just got word from the Commander.”

”Shit. Okay. Let’s fucking do this, huh?” He was trying to keep his tone light enough without downplaying the magnitude of their situation.

“Not like we have much of a choice. Stay safe, brother.” He gripped Cassian in a hug, patting him roughly on the back. Cassian returned it quickly and broke away.

“Stop saying your goodbyes, Spion,” he said as he broke into a backward jog toward his flight team. He raised his voice to finish, “They chose the wrong fucking base!”

——————————————————————————

Cassian awoke to a blinding pain in his head and a high-pitched beeping sound coming from his left. He kept his eyes firmly shut, trying for the life of him to figure out where he was and why he was in so much pain. He creased his brow as he concentrated, only able to conjure snapshots of the events that led him here.

Take off.

Giving orders to his flight team.

Circling back for an aircraft in pursuit of one of his airmen.

Shots fired, bullets flying. Explosions as they met their mark.

Another loud explosion, an aggressive shift of his plane.

Losing an engine.

Bailing out.

Everything was blank after that, until right now, where that obnoxious fucking beeping was going to make him violent. If he was dead, he was surely in hell.

He opened his eyes, squinting against the faint light overhead. He turned his head slowly, fighting a groan at the pain that shot through his temples. His mouth was dry as shit, and he needed to find some water stat.

His eyes snagged on something foreign next to his hand. He lowered his chin to look at it properly, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a something, it was a someone.

That same damn head of golden brown hair that had been haunting him for months was on the edge of the mattress, resting on her bent arm. She was sitting in a chair, bent over to rest her head on his bed, and her other arm was extended, resting just above his knee. Her face was softer while she slept, he thought. He looked at her for a few seconds, not wanting to disturb her slumber, and realized he couldn’t give a shit less about that beeping sound all of a sudden. Nesta fucking Archeron was here.

Okay, so definitely not in hell, then.

He looked down, realizing his chest was bare save for the rolls of gauze and bandages wrapped around him. He had no clue what that was about, but he figured someone would tell him eventually. He noticed bruises and scrapes on almost every exposed part of his body and a cast on his right ankle. As far as he could tell, he still had all of his limbs and could wiggle his toes. He decided he was grateful, even if everything hurt like fuck.

His movements must have roused her, because Nesta’s eyes suddenly opened. She sat up and rubbed them before turning them to Cassian in assessment. She started at his legs, running her gaze over him, and over to his monitor. Her eyes snapped to his own once she realized he was awake.

”You’re awake!” The relief in her voice broke his heart. She gripped his hand with both of hers, careful not to disturb him too much.

”Yeah,” he croaked, his voice ragged from disuse. She pulled one of her hands away, grabbed the small styrofoam cup on the side table, and handed it to him. He grabbed it with his opposite hand, cringing a little at the pain in his chest as he reached across his body. He brought the cup to his lips, leaving his eyes on hers as he sipped. She took it from him as he lowered his head back down to his pillow.

“Your parachute deployed, but it got tangled while you were still in the air. Luckily it eventually opened, but you were already fairly close to the ground. Your ankle is broken and you have several broken ribs. They aren’t sure what you hit, but you sustained impact to your head at some point. Be careful if you touch your face... there are some stitches on your forehead and through your eyebrow.” He honestly would have been okay with a few more injuries on the list if it meant she would keep talking to him like this; with a gentleness and care he had never seen. He rolled his head toward her to look at her properly, and noticed tears running down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll take a lot more than that to keep me from sticking around and annoying the hell out of you,” he joked.

“That’s not funny, Cassian!” She clutched his hand in warning. “I listened to the radio all day. I found out through communications that your plane went down.” Her tears were rolling in earnest now.

He was such an ass. Why the hell did he insist on putting his foot in his mouth?

”I’m sorry. Really, Nesta, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m okay.” He squeezed her hand, wishing he could pull her into his chest to comfort her.

Her tears continued despite his request. “I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I couldn’t get clear answers from anyone about your status for hours. It was a nightmare, and for a second, I thought.... I don’t know. Worst case scenario, is what I thought. I almost lost you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. He started rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm before he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhe—“ He was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, all thanks to his dry fucking throat. Beautiful timing. Excellent. Perfect.

He groaned between coughs as he felt the sudden pain wrack through his ribs. It was as if someone was taking each one and snapping them over their knee like small tree branches. He couldn’t get his throat to cooperate, sending his chest into contraction after contraction. He started clutching for his chest, grimacing, and trying to do anything possible to calm his reflexes down.

Nesta jumped from her chair, perching on the edge of his bed. She gripped his face gently with her hands, willing him to look at her. Once he did, she encouraged him to relax, and grabbed his water cup to hold it to his lips. He managed to hold back his cough long enough to take a couple of sips, and he was finally able to relax into the bed again, breathing through clenched teeth.

She brushed his curly hair to the side in a soothing gesture, trying to tame the wild strands somewhat in the process. She spoke to him in a soothing voice, hoping to keep him as calm as he could manage.

“You have beautiful hair. I know women who would kill for it,” she mused.

He huffed a laugh. “Has a mind of its own.”

”Seems true to form, considering the head it grows from.” She laughed when he glared at her. “I’m serious. You should grow it out one day. Just to see its potential.”

”Mmm... I’ll think about it. I think I could try it out for you,” he replied with a smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before it occurred to him that the clock read 3:00, and there was no light coming through the window. It was 3AM, and here she was.

”I’m surprised they haven’t kicked you out yet with how late it is.... Not that I’m complaining. I want you to stay.” He hoped he hadn’t offended her, but the look on her face showed only amusement. “How’d you manage that?”

She bit her lip in a sheepish gesture, and he had to fight the urge to reach up and release it with his thumb.“When I found out they had located you and were in transport, I ran here immediately. I didn’t have much of a plan. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic to the young nurse’s aid at the station. I asked for you, but she told me that only family could see you,” she trailed off, looking down at the bedsheets. “I was all over the place, and I just blurted it out... that I was your wife.”

His eyes had to be the size of saucers. They were fairly familiar with each other through their work, and they’d had that one perfect night at the bar. But he’d never kissed her, nor had he brought her out on an actual date. She was the one who had turned him down, for Cauldron’s sake.

He couldn’t hold back his chuckle at her words or the blush that fanned across her cheeks.

“How long was I out? We seem to have come a long way,” he teased, hoping to ease her nerves.

”Oh, shut up. To be fair, I have to think on my feet a lot with what I do, and it kind of took me over. I was apparently quite convincing.”

”Didn’t even court me properly,” he mumbled in mock offense, grinning as he shook his head. He promptly stopped when he remembered the headache.

“Alright. You’re hilarious,” she stated dryly. Her voice quieted a bit more as she said, “I know I overstepped. I just wanted you to be okay, and I couldn’t stand not knowing. I’m really sorry.”

”It’s okay, really. You were the perfect thing to wake up to in here. Thank you,” he replied. “I’m honestly just surprised no one fact-checked you.”

”Once I was in here, they kind of just ignored me except for updates. I’ve gotten lucky that no one that would know better has been in here. Well, except Captain Spion, but he’s keeping my secret. He’ll be happy to know you’re okay. He’s been pacing around in here anytime he’s had a free moment and scaring the shit out of all the hospital staff.” She laughed, and he didn’t think he could ever hear enough of it.

“Sounds like Az. I’ll check in tomorrow,” he said. “But hey, before I forget, since we’re married anyway... would you be interested in going out sometime?” He hoped he hadn’t misread this shift between them, but he couldn’t let her leave here without asking.

She sat there for several agonizing seconds before leaning forward and pressing her lips softly to his. When she pulled back, her blue eyes were shining as she said, “Absolutely. I love that idea.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: I enjoyed writing a little fluff after that angsty multi-chapter. 😂 Let me know what y’all think! 

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, shoot me an ask, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you! My tags have been acting up, but I’ve been emailing Tumblr about it. Hopefully that’s not a long-term issue. A girl can dream, right?

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader// @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash​

[limjaeseven]

All You Need Is Love

Pairing: Jinyoung X Jaebeom ft Brian of Day6

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 13,515

Summary: Jinyoung has liked his boss for years but according to him he’s straight

Warning(s): Mentions of conversion therapy, mentions of suicide attempts, cute jjp, cute brian, CEO!Jaebeom, sad Jaebeom

[a/n]: This is my longest project yet and it took way too long to finish, a big thank you to @taetaesbaebaepsae​​ and @birbdae​ for beta reading

The warm and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee filled Jinyoung’s senses as he stepped inside his favourite cafe, situated just across the street from Jinyoung’s apartment at half past eight on Monday morning. Being the assistant of the richest man in the country meant Jinyoung barely, if ever, got a full night’s sleep in the middle of sifting through paperwork and making phone calls. Coffee was his lifeline, the only thing that kept him from falling asleep on the job.

The barista, Mark, a 26 year old man of Taiwanese descent greeted Jinyoung with a warm smile. With how often Jinyoung came to the café, there was no need for him to even give Mark his order, one Caramel Macchiato for himself and an Iced Americano for his boss.

After paying for his coffee and thanking Mark, Jinyoung stepped outside the café to see a car pull up in front of him. A short, blond haired man stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger door for Jinyoung. Once he was settled inside the car, the driver closed the door behind him before getting back in and driving.

“Thank you, Jinyoung,” Lim Jaebeom, South Korea’s richest man and Jinyoung’s boss said when Jinyoung handed him his coffee. The man was only three years older than Jinyoung, at age 28 but had single handedly built an empire spanning four continents and fourteen countries. Offshore Corp. was immensely successful, making Jaebeom the fifth richest man in the world, and the youngest person on the list.

Jinyoung had met Jaebeom when the company was being run out of the basement of an office building in the outskirts of Seoul. The elder was looking for an assistant and Jinyoung had seen an advertisement on his college campus and decided to apply for it. Since Jinyoung was still in college getting his degree in Economics, he joined as an intern under Jaebeom. The two of them were inseparable ever since, becoming more of best friends than coworkers.

“You have lunch with CEO Wang today at the Black Plate followed by a meeting with Kang Corp. at four. Other than that you just have some paperwork to go through, the rest I have managed,” Jaebeom let out a deep sigh as he turned to his assistant. Sometimes Jaebeom wondered how he had scored such a hardworking and dedicated man to work under him.

“You are a life saver, Jinyoungie. What would I ever do without you? Also you have to come with me for lunch. Jiaer will kill me if I don’t bring you along,” The car pulled up in front of the office building. Jinyoung let himself out of the car as the driver opened the door for Jaebeom. The two of them made their way inside the building, heading to the top floor. Jinyoung spent his morning at his desk outside the CEO’s office till they had to leave for lunch.

Jackson Wang, CEO of Team Wang was one of Lim Jaebeom’s oldest friends. The two had grown up together in a small neighbourhood in Ilsan. They had been inseparable till Jackson moved to China with his family when they were in high school. Wang Jiaer came back to Korea three years after he graduated from college to start his own entertainment company. He, along with some help from Jaebeom and Jinyoung, set up Team Wang. Jackson had grown quite close to Jinyoung over the years and often invited Jaebeom over just so that he could hang out with the younger.

“Hyung! Nyoungie! So nice to see you two,” Jackson greeted as the two men sat across from the brunette. Lunch went just as usual, Jackson taking up all of Jinyoung’s attention with his jolly and over the top personality. Jaebeom’s angry chin made an appearance here and there when Jackson made an occasional joke at Jaebeom’s expense.

“Anyways hyung, you have to come to the Kang’s party next Friday, I hate attending those events alone,” Jaebeom sighed because he too hated attending big company events. He really didn’t have much of a choice since he was finalising a deal with them and it would not be good for him to not attend the party to welcome the new CEO of the company. If the deal took any longer to close, he would have to negotiate with the new head of the company.

“Don’t forget to get Jinyoungie along with you,” Jackson added, making Jaebeom chuckle.

“Sometimes I wonder who you like more, your childhood best friend or his assistant,” Jinyoung slapped Jaebeom’s forearm playfully at the comment. Jackson just snickered but didn't answer the question.

“Call Bambam and let him know that we’ll be attending the Kang’s party. We need to make a good impression in front of the new CEO.” Bambam was Jaebeom’s personal stylist, a 23 year old man with an impeccable sense of fashion. Jinyoung had met the man through his cousin Yugyeom, the two men had been dating each other for as long as Jinyoung could remember. Bambam had struggled to find a job as a fashion design major, so he approached Jinyoung for help and the older recommended the younger to put in his resume for an opening as Jaebeom’s stylist, and he ended up getting the job.

The week till the party was incredibly busy as Jinyoung rushed to finalise the deal with the Kang’s. In the end, the deal took too long to close, meaning they would have to finalise it with the new CEO. Before Jinyoung knew it, he was sitting with Jaebeom in a fancy salon getting his hair and makeup done before Bambam dressed both of them up for the party. The car ride to the venue was quiet, Jaebeom lost in his own thoughts. The two men were tired after a long week of endless meetings and paperwork.

“Hyung!” Jaebeom and Jinyoung turned around as they stepped out of the car to see Jackson running to catch up with them. The three of them made their way into the hall and proceeded to grab a couple of drinks from the bar before going to mingle with the crowd. Jinyoung spent most of his time glued to Jaebeom’s side as the older talked to colleagues, friends, old and possibly new investors. He exchanged polite smiles and made small talk with a few people he recognised in the crowd until Jaebeom excused himself to go to the restroom, leaving Jinyoung alone.

After searching and failing to find Jackson, Jinyoung decided to wait by the bar for Jaebeom. Jinyoung had been working as Jaebeom’s assistant for a long time but he still hated making small talk at company parties. The man was the type to prefer a night in with a good book over club nights. Jinyoung had just finished his drink when he heard a voice coming from next to him.

“Mind if I get you a drink, handsome?” The strawberry blonde haired man asked, settling into the bar stool right next to him. Jinyoung couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the stranger. His grey suit perfectly complimented his honey skin, his long legs folded gracefully, elbow resting on a knee.

“Sure, why not? I’ll have a Cosmopolitan,” Jinyoung played along, knowing full well that the drinks were free. The stranger nodded and called the bartender before ordering their respective drinks.

“Kang Younghyun, but everyone calls me Brian,” the stranger offered, glancing at Jinyoung. It suddenly dawned on Jinyoung that the person who just offered him a drink was the new CEO of Kang Industries.

“Park Jinyoung.” 

Brian simply nodded, not asking anything about who he was. He offered Jinyoung his drink when it arrived and they made a bit of random small talk before Jinyoung received a text from Jaebeom asking where he was.

The night was pretty uneventful, Brian gave a short speech while accepting his new role as CEO. He kept making eye contact with Jinyoung throughout the speech for some reason. He wondered if Jaebeom had noticed it but the elder said nothing. Jaebeom dropped Jinyoung back at his apartment at the end of the night, offering him a small wave before speeding away.

Monday morning Jaebeom had his first meeting with Brian. Jinyoung didn’t want to admit it but he looked forward to meeting him again. The small interaction with the man had left quite an impression on Jinyoung.

“Park Jinyoung? What a surprise!” Brian said as he walked into the board room for the meeting.

“You know each other?” Jaebeom enquired and before Jinyoung could respond, Brian answered the question.

“We met at my promotion party. He’s quite the gentleman,” Jinyoung glanced at Jaebeom to see something flash in his eyes. It was short but Jinyoung was sure he saw it. Was Jaebeom angry? That didn’t make sense, there was no reason for Jaebeom to be angry. Jinyoung decided to brush it off and instead focused on the negotiations.

Once the meeting was over, Jinyoung escorted Brian out of the building. Just as he was about to get into the car, her turned around to look at Jinyoung.

“Are you free Friday evening?” Jinyoung nodded after thinking for a moment.

“I’ll come pick you up, we’re going for dinner together,” Brain said before handing Jinyoung his business card and getting into his car and driving off. Jinyoung turned the card over to see Brian’s personal phone number scribbled with a little ‘text me’ written on the back.

Jinyoung heard his name being called and looked up to see Jaebeom with an irritated expression on his face standing in front of him. He checked his watch to realise that they were late for another meeting. He slipped the card in his hand into his pocket before sliding into the car next to Jaebeom.

“So you know CEO Kang?” Jaebeom asked, staring out of the window. Jinyoung felt a little unsettled by Jaebeom’s tone, cold and indifferent.

“He offered me a drink at the party, I didn’t know he was the CEO till he introduced himself as Kang Younghyun,” Jinyoung half expected some type of reaction from Jaebeom but the man simply nodded and said nothing more.

Jinyoung texted Brian that night, sending a simple “hey, it’s Jinyoung”. He got a reply almost instantly, Brian sent him a picture of himself buried under a blanket with a “hey” back. They ended up texting for hours, sending cute pictures back and forth. It was almost three in the morning when Jinyoung finally decided to call it a night and fell asleep with a smile on his face thanks to the cute goodnight message accompanied by about a hundred emojis from Brian.

Jinyoung woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. The man dragged himself out of bed to open it and saw Jaebeom standing there with a worried look on his face.

“You’re never late so I got worried and thought I’d drop by to check on you.” Jaebeom nervously scratched the back of his neck as it finally dawned on Jinyoung that he had overslept and that he was, in fact, late for work.

Jinyoung stepped away from the door to let Jaebeom in with a mumbled apology as he rushed to get ready. Ten minutes later, he stepped out of his bedroom to see Jaebeom lounging on his couch, playing with his phone.

“I’m ready,” Jinyoung announced, making Jaebeom frown. He didn’t say anything as he stepped out of the apartment with Jinyoung and made his way to the car. Jaebeom whispered something to the driver before sliding in.

“Where are we going?” Jinyoung asked when he noticed them driving in the opposite direction from the office. Jaebeom continued staying silent, making Jinyoung feel frustrated. A few minutes later they pulled up in front of Jinyoung’s favourite diner that he visited on his off days.

“I’ve told you enough times that you’re not allowed to come to the office till you’ve had breakfast. I know full well how you forget to take care of yourself when you’re busy,” Jaebeom chastised as they both ordered food.

“I was up late last night, so I ended up waking late, you don’t need to worry so much, hyung. I know how to take care of myself,” Jaebeom looked at him with fake disappointment.

“Park Jinyoung? Staying up late? I’ve never seen you stay up after ten pm in the years that I’ve known you. Also don’t get me started on you not taking care of yourself. You’re the same person who collapsed because you forgot to eat during your final exams,” Jinyoung whined at Jaebeom’s comment.

“I was up talking to a friend. You know I need my sleep to function. Also that incident happened years ago, stop bringing it up every single time.” 

Jaebeom just laughed as Jinyoung pouted, making Jinyoung even grumpier. When they finished eating, Jaebeom paid for both of them, much to Jinyoung’s dismay before heading to the car.

“Jinyoungie, are you free on Friday evening?” Jaebeom asked when Jinyoung came by his office later that day to give the elder some papers.

“Why do you ask hyung?”

“Investors dinner. You don’t have to come if you’re busy though, I just wanted to let you know if you’re free.”

“I’m sorry hyung but I have plans. I can cancel if you need me to come, though.”

“Absolutely not. You need to live your life, Nyoung. You’ve not dated in what, four years? It’s just to make the investors happy, I’ll survive on my own,” Jaebeom said with an air of finality. Jinyoung still felt bad that he couldn’t attend the dinner, but he also didn’t want to bail on Brian.

“I can hear you overthinking from here Jinyoung. Don’t worry about me, go enjoy yourself. You can leave early on Friday if you want, we only have one meeting in the morning,” Jinyoung nodded and thanked his boss before leaving his office.

He texted Brian as he sat down at his desk, letting him know that he’d be off early on Friday. Brian responded by letting him know that he’d pick Jinyoung up from his house at six thirty on Friday. Jinyoung immediately texted Bambam to drop by his house on the day of the date to help him get ready.

Friday rolled around and Jinyoung reached home at five, which was later than he had wanted so he texted Bambam before hopping into the shower. Just as Jinyoung stepped out, Bambam knocked on the door and Jinyoung let the younger in.

“Hyung you really need to go shopping, I only see dress shirts, pants and blazers here. Don’t you have anything dressy in your closet?” Bambam whined as he sifted through Jinyoung’s closet.

“Check the other cupboard, I think I still have some stuff left from college.” 

Bambam moved to the smaller cupboard on the other side of Jinyoung’s room in his quest for the perfect outfit.

Since Jinyoung started working while he was still in college, he had adapted his closet and general dressing style to be more formal considering he didn’t have enough money to be able to afford both office wear and casual attire for college. Jinyoung had splurged a bit on a few clothes when he was still clubbing in his college days before Offshore and Jaebeom took up all his time.

“Jackpot!” Bambam shouted as he pulled out a pair of skinny jeans, a turtle neck and a leather jacket from the cupboard. They were all in black, classic for the minimalist that was Park Jinyoung. Bambam had him borrow the two inch heeled boots that he had been sporting in exchange for a pair of Jinyoung’s fluffy slippers for the night. A bit of light make up and an unnecessary amount of hairspray later, Jinyoung was officially ready and Bambam couldn’t be prouder of himself.

Jinyoung looked at himself in the mirror and was taken aback. He was so used to seeing himself in office wear that the look made him feel both off and confident because he knew he looked good. The black contrasted his pale skin perfectly, while the light and dewy makeup gave him an ethereal look. Jinyoung was busy checking out his ass in the mirror when he heard a knock on the door.

“Go get him, tiger,” Bambam joked, following the elder to the door. Brian stood there, dressed in white pants, a deep green shirt tucked in, strawberry blonde hair styled up. Jinyoung couldn’t help but stare at how good he looked. He wasn’t the only one though as he caught Brian eyeing him the same way.

“Shall we go?” Brian asked and Jinyoung nodded, bidding Bambam goodbye. Both of them made their way down to Brian’s car, a sleek sports car that exuded wealth without looking too flashy. Brian opened the door for Jinyoung before climbing into the car himself and helping Jinyoung put his seatbelt on. The younger couldn’t help but blush at the warm breath hitting his neck as Brian pulled the strap over his shoulder. Instead of making any move though, Brian simply smiled at Jinyoung before turning to start the car.

The restaurant looked extremely fancy, Jinyoung recognised it as one of Seoul’s most famous, having planned a company event at the venue. Brian held his hand out for Jinyoung to hold, walking him inside the building. The elder had already reserved them a table overlooking the brightly lit skyline of Seoul. They were making their way to the table when Brian saw a couple of his colleagues at a table nearby and asked Jinyoung to accompany him for a minute to meet them.

“Hey guys, having fun without me?” Jinyoung’s eyes scanned across the people in front of him and he recognised them as investors of Offshore. The brunette’s eyes widened as they fell on Jaebeom sitting right across from where he was standing.

“Jinyoung?” Jaebeom blurted out, questioningly. Jinyoung realised that he had never actually told the elder that he was going out with one of his biggest partners and rivals. Though the Kang’s and Offshore worked together every now and then, they were still each other’s biggest competitors.

“Lim Jaebeom, we meet yet again. Anyways, I promised Jinyoung dinner so we should get going. I’ll see you guy’s later.” Brian led Jinyoung towards their table but Jaebeom and the younger’s eyes held for just a moment, Jinyoung suddenly feeling guilty for some reason. He wondered if his boss would be mad at him for going out with his rival. He quickly diverted that train of thought with reasoning that he had the right to date whoever he wanted, regardless of whether they were or weren’t related to Jaebeom.

Dinner was a lot of fun, much to Jinyoung’s delight. Brian was witty, making the younger laugh out loud multiple times. Out of habit, Jinyoung held his hand up to cover his hand as he laughed, but Brian reached over and grabbed his wrist to pull it away.

“You have a beautiful smile, don’t hide it,” Brian chided playfully. After splitting one bottle of unnecessarily expensive red wine and some peach cobbler for dessert, both of them were ready to leave. Brian excused himself to the washroom for a moment and Jinyoung sat alone at the table. He let his eyes wander and almost immediately he met eyes with Jaebeom yet again.

The expression on his face was indescribable, one the Jinyoung had seen only a few times in the years he knew Jaebeom. It sent chills down Jinyoung’s spine, making him feel vulnerable and exposed with just the way the elder looked at him. It caused some old memories and feelings to resurface which Jinyoung immediately buried by looking away from Jaebeom and shifting his attention to Brian, who had by then returned. The elder motioned for Jinyoung’s hand and held it once more, guiding him out of the restaurant.

The drive back to Jinyoung’s apartment was quiet, though not awkward. Brian turned up the radio to fill the silence. Jinyoung wanted to say something but every time he went to, Jaebeom’s expression flashed in his mind. He didn’t know why he felt so guilty, he was just on a date with a guy he met at a party they attended. When they reached under Jinyoung’s building, the younger unbuckled his seat belt and turned to Brian. The older just smiled sweetly at Jinyoung, making him feel a little bit better as he smiled back.

Jinyoung was about to turn away to open the door when Brian leaned in. Instead of kissing him on the lips though, Brian grabbed a hold of his jaw and turned it away to place a soft peck on the brunette’s cheek. The older ruffled Jinyoung’s hair for good measure before whispering a soft goodbye. Jinyoung waved at him as he drove away and went up to his apartment.

Bambam had fallen asleep in Jinyoung’s guest bedroom by the time he got home. The younger often stayed at Jinyoung’s house, Bambam got scared of things sometimes and found comfort in the elder. Jinyoung changed into pyjamas and cleared up the take out boxes the younger had left behind before heading to bed.

Jinyoung was absolutely exhausted, the deal with the Kangs had been keeping him up late at night as he read through contracts, contacted lawyers and briefed Jaebeom. Dinner with Brian was a good break but seeing his best friend there threw him off. Jaebeom’s expression was the only thing he saw when he closed his eyes.

Jinyoung’s heart ached as he thought of his hyung. He looked almost like he was hurting but it made no sense why the older would feel like that. It reminded Jinyoung of a memory he had been trying to bury for years. One that he never wanted to think about ever again but he couldn’t help but indulge in it as it resurfaced.

Park Jinyoung was 19 when he met twenty two year old Lim Jaebeom. Both of them were young, trying to find their way in a newly opened world to them. Jinyoung will never forget the job interview he gave to join Offshore. He had seen a flyer at his college advertising vacancies in the company and one of Jinyoung’s juniors, Youngjae had told him that Offshore was owned by his older brother’s batch mate, college bad boy, extraordinaire Lim Jaebeom.

Jinyoung hadn’t originally planned to apply for Offshore but fate brought him to the dingy basement of an old office building with his CV in hand. The small space had about ten people crammed inside it, one of them Jinyoung recognised as Youngjae’s older brother. Some of the people were sitting on the floor, working on ancient looking laptops as papers flew around. Jinyoung was greeted by a messy haired Jaebeom whose tie was crooked and smile was sheepish.

Jaebeom absolutely grilled Jinyoung during his interview which was impressive for the owner of such a small business. After an hour of them going back and forth, Jaebeom leaned back against the old plastic chair he was sitting on and rubbed his eyes, mumbling a little ‘you’re hired’.

Over the course of the next two years, Jinyoung became well acquainted with what he called the ‘World of Lim Jaebeom’. It was clear from the very beginning that Jaebeom had big dreams and he was determined to fulfil them. The first time they launched a product line or website or some other project successfully, Jaebeom would always smile softly and congratulate all the employees before retreating to his office. Jinyoung always wondered why the elder did that and later found out that every time they succeeded, Jaebeom used that as an opportunity to plan the next three steps, never basking in the glory for more than a few minutes.

Jinyoung was the only one over the years who was allowed into Jaebeom’s private life. The elder had always been reserved, a man of few words. He was the only one, other than Jackson, who knew Jaebeom’s parents personally, the only one who knew about his love for RnB music and cheesy, romantic movies. Jinyoung had become a constant in Jaebeom’s life and vice versa.

At some point Jinyoung had realised he had started liking his hyung more than just as a friend. It was like having high school crush, Jinyoung looked forward to every moment he spent with the elder and thought about him at random moments throughout the day, becoming hyper aware if his boss was ever a little too close to him.

Jinyoung knew that Jaebeom had only ever been with women before but the man had never said anything against dating men. When Jinyoung came out as gay to Jaebeom, he had been supportive and encouraging, telling Jinyoung that he didn’t need to be afraid of his sexuality. The two men had even talked about finding other men attractive a few times.

The chances of the Lim Jaebeom ever liking Jinyoung were close to none, Jinyoung was well aware of that. But there were certain things that his hyung did that always made him question if he did feel something for his assistant. Like the caramel macchiato that sat on his desk the days he ended up falling asleep in the office. Like Jaebeom venting to Jinyoung about his family and crying himself to sleep, wrapped warmly in Jinyoung’s embrace. Like cuddling after long days at work on Jaebeom’s couch, watching Titanic for the millionth time, Jaebeom nuzzling his face in the crook of Jinyoung’s neck.

The time the actions started though was the most memorable to Jinyoung. Offshore was doing better than ever and they had just closed their biggest deal till that point. Jinyoung was busy contacting the lawyers about the next contract as per Jaebeom’s request when the elder burst out of his office, telling Jinyoung to accompany him for a last minute lunch meeting.

Jaebeom and Jinyoung drove in the former’s newly bought car to a restaurant, specifically Jinyoung’s favourite restaurant that the younger visited on special occasions since he was still not earning enough to afford meals their often. They settled down and the waitress asked for their order and Jinyoung was just about to tell her that they were waiting for someone, but Jaebeom interjected and ordered for both of them, knowing Jinyoung’s order by heart.

“What about the client?” Jinyoung asked and Jaebeom smirked.

“He’s already here.” 

Jinyoung looked around the restaurant but found no one who he recognised as one of their clients.

“He’s sitting right in front of me.” 

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow at the elder’s comment, confused.

“I know how hard you worked on this deal and just wanted to treat you as thank you. I knew you would say no if I told you why we were coming here,” Jaebeom said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, almost as if he was scared about how Jinyoung would react.

“You know you don’t need to thank me, hyung, it’s my job. But anyways, now that we are here, why not enjoy ourselves?” Jinyoung asked and instantly saw the nervousness of Jaebeom’s face melt into a small smile. The two men enjoyed their lunch, talking about anything and everything. That day was the day that Jinyoung and Jaebeom became best friends on top of being coworkers and the seeds of Jinyoung’s crush on the elder were sown.

Jinyoung tried not to think too much about the elder’s actions but one incident made him almost sure that Jaebeom was at least physically attracted to Jinyoung. The two men had gone out for drinks at a local bar three years into them working together, wanting to take a break from the hectic routine at work. Jaebeom had dragged Jinyoung to the dance floor, both men considerably drunk. Jaebeom gripped at Jinyoung’s waist, pulling his waist against the elder’s chest and the two men grinded against each other. When the song slowed down though, Jinyoung turned around and threw his hands around Jaebeom’s neck and stared up at him. Jaebeom leaned down, warm breath dusting Jinyoung’s lips.

Jinyoung could see the lust pooling in Jaebeom’s eyes as he ghosted over the younger’s lips. And just as they were about to kiss, someone bumped into Jinyoung, spilling his drink all over the brunette. Jaebeom ended up almost punching the guy and Jinyoung had to drag his boss out of the club to stop a fight from breaking out. He hailed a taxi and helped Jaebeom inside. By the time the taxi reached Jaebeom’s apartment, the elder was fast asleep so the younger had the driver drive them to Jinyoung’s house.

With a lot of effort, Jinyoung was able to drag Jaebeom into his apartment. He laid the elder on his bed and went to sleep on the couch. When the younger woke up, Jaebeom was nowhere in sight but a caramel macchiato, a sandwich and a small ‘thank you’ note sat on his coffee table.

But everything changed the night Jaebeom invited Jinyoung to his parent’s home for dinner. Jaebeom told him that his mother wanted to meet her son’s assistant cum best friend. Jinyoung was nervous but he agreed. The brunette was buying flowers for Jaebeom’s mom when the florist, Yedam, came up to him asking if he needed any help.

“I’m going to meet my boss’s mom for the first time” He explained and the florist picked out a bouquet for him. Jinyoung knew him from the time he had moved into the neighbourhood. Jinyoung loved flowers so he went their quite often.

“So, you found anyone?” Yedam asked as he wrapped the flowers, the man knew well about Jinyoung’s love life, or the lack of it.

“Not yet, but there is one guy who I’ve got my eyes on. He’s completely out of my league though.” Jinyoung sighed, but before Yedam could reply, he heard a gasp from behind him. A woman in her mid-fifties who was standing behind him, probably waiting to get some flowers wrapped, dropped the bouquet in her hands. Jinyoung turned to ask her if she was okay but she pushed him away from her, making Jinyoung fall to the floor.

“Don’t touch me, faggot,” she spit out. Jinyoung was taken aback at her comment, but he wasn’t surprised. He lived in a country that just didn’t accept people like him, it was a well-known fact. He was just so used to having supportive friends that he had forgotten what it was like to be cursed at for being gay.

Jinyoung stepped aside and allowed Yedam to help the woman with her flowers. He tried to apologise to Jinyoung for the woman’s actions but Jinyoung immediately cut him off, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. Jinyoung just took the bouquet from Yedam and paid for it before heading to his car. The drive to Jaebeom’s parents’ house was short but Jinyoung felt uneasy the entire time. The brunette put it off as a mix of emotions from the woman cursing at him and the nervousness to meet Jaebeom’s parents.

Jinyoung stood outside the door for a while before he was able to muster enough courage to ring the bell. He nervously tapped his foot as he heard the door unlock from the inside. A smiling Jaebeom greeted Jinyoung, motioning him to go inside the house. The elder was dressed in a plain black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks.

“How do you always manage to look so smart in simple clothes?” Jaebeom commented with a groan. Jinyoung was clad in a simple white t-shirt with beige pants, horn rimmed glasses and sandals. The elder had always been jealous of Jinyoung’s fashion sense, using every opportunity possible to complain.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself, hyung,” Jinyoung said with a wink. As the two men spoke, Jaebeom’s mother stepped out of the kitchen, heading to the living room to meet her son’s assistant, she saw Jinyoung winking at him.

“You? What are you doing in my house?” Jaebeom’s mother shouted, glaring at Jinyoung. The brunette was taken aback as he realised that Jaebeom’s mother was the lady he met at the flower shop.

“Mom, you know Jinyoung? What’s going on here?” Jaebeom asked, confused by the angry and terrified expression on his mom’s and best friend’s faces respectively.

“How dare you let a faggot into our house, Lim Jaebeom? Get this scum out of here, now!” She shouted, turning her attention to Jaebeom. The elder was surprised at his mother’s behaviour, she was always known for her sweet nature and quiet demeanour.

“What are you talking about, Mom?” Jinyoung didn’t know whether to apologise to Jaebeom and leave or just run away so he just stood there, frozen in his place.

“I heard him talk to that Yedam kid at the flower shop today about liking a man. A man, Jaebeom! And now, not only is this pest in my home, he was winking at you! I’m sure he was trying to seduce you to corrupt my son. Throw him out of here, fire him for all I care! I will never allow a faggot to step foot in my house.” 

Jaebeom’s face turned red as he processed what his mother was saying. Daring to take a peek at Jinyoung’s devastated face, Jaebeom felt beyond guilty.

“What’s going on here? What’s with all the ruckus?” Jaebeom’s father asked as he stepped out of the kitchen, confused about all the noise coming from the living room.

“Jaebeom here brought a faggot into our house, that’s what’s wrong. Doesn’t even have the courtesy to leave when it’s clear that he’s not welcome here,” she said, pointing at Jinyoung, making him snap out of his daze. Just as Jinyoung was about to apologise and leave, Jaebeom cut him off.

“That’s enough Mom. Jinyoung here is my assistant and best friend. So what if he’s gay? You know well that I’m straight so why does it matter if he’s friendly with me? He’s the most hard-working employee in my company and you will not speak to him like that,” Jaebeom snapped, making both his mom and Jinyoung gasp. Jaebeom’s mother, angry at her son, stormed out of the room.

“Jaebeom, I get that you’re hurt by what your mother said but you will not disrespect her either. Jinyoung, I’m so sorry about what she said to you. She’s always been who believed in old traditions and morals. There’s nothing wrong with you being gay, rather I want you know that I for one will always support you, because you’re Jaebeom’s best friend and Jaebeom’s friends are like my own children to me. Jaebeom, take Jinyoung out for dinner tonight will you? Take him to his favourite restaurant and treat him to his favourite food, as a sorry and a thank you from all of us,” Jaebeom’s father said, looking at Jaebeom and Jinyoung.

The younger had tears in his eyes at the words of the old man, and he tried his best to keep them in. But when Jaebeom’s father opened his arms, Jinyoung couldn’t help but hug the man tightly, slowly crying onto his shoulder, whispering small ‘thank you’s. The man just chuckled and patted the brunette’s head before letting him go and waving him goodbye.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair, Jaebeom apologising multiple times but Jinyoung cutting him off every time, telling him that what happened was not his fault. The bouquet that Jinyoung bought for Jaebeom’s mom lay forgotten in the back seat of Jinyoung’s car, a reminder of the incidents that happened at Jaebeom’s parent’s house. Jinyoung had learned three important things that night. One that Jaebeom’s mother would never like him, two that Jaebeom’s father was one of the nicest men Jinyoung had ever met and three, most important of all, that Jaebeom was straight.

Jinyoung didn’t sleep well that night. Even his dreams were plagued with Jaebeom, the look on his face crystal clear as he looked at Jinyoung from across the restaurant. The only difference was that it was only the two of them in the room in his dreams and it felt like Jaebeom was staring directly into Jinyoung’s soul, seeing the feelings that Jinyoung knew well that he still had but spent his days denying.

Bambam dragged Jinyoung out to Mark’s café for breakfast. Fortunately they were the only people in at the time so Mark joined them for their meal. Bambam chatted excitedly about Yugyeom getting accepted into Team Wang as a trainee. Yugyeom had texted Jinyoung the good news himself that morning and Jinyoung sent him a short ‘congratulations, now go make some money of your own so that you’re not living off of your boyfriend’s earnings’.

Just as they were finishing up breakfast, Bambam got a call from his mom so he left early, leaving Jinyoung and Mark together.  Jinyoung helped Mark clear up the table, ignoring the elder’s protests and ordered a caramel macchiato. Just as Jinyoung paid for his drink, a couple came into the café. Mark turned to attend to them while Jinyoung sat at his favourite seat next to a large window overlooking the street outside and watched as people walked past the café.

Jinyoung was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise that the couple had left till Mark sat down in front of him, now free. The elder observed Jinyoung for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed. The younger looked back at him with a confused expression, lifting one brow.

“What happened, Nyoungie?” Jinyoung should have seen the question coming, he thought. Mark was well known to be the most observant of all his friends, being the first one to know if anything was wrong. Jinyoung thought about it for a second, whether to tell his hyung what was going through his head or not. In the end he decided to open up to Mark in hopes of some insight.

“Maybe you’re just overthinking things, Jinyoung. The best thing to do is just talk about it. Communicate with him instead of making assumptions and hurting yourself” Jinyoung just nodded, knowing that Mark was right. Jinyoung stayed at the café till lunchtime, wished Mark goodbye and headed home. Fortunately Jinyoung had leftovers in his fridge because he was in no mood to cook.

The brunette spent the entire day lounging in bed and on the couch, watching trash TV and making a few work calls. He had just finished taking a shower when he got two notifications at the same time on his phone, one from Brian and the other from Jaebeom. As much as Jinyoung wanted to talk to his best friend, he still wasn’t ready to talk to him after the previous night so he unlocked his phone and opened Brian’s chat where the older had sent him a simple ‘hey’.

Jinyoung ended up texting about the most mundane things with Brian but he somehow made it feel like they were talking about the most fun things in the whole world. Halfway through the conversation Jinyoung’s phone started ringing, showing that Brian was calling him. Jinyoung rolled over on his bed, lying on his stomach and picked up the call.

“What’re you up to?” Brian asked after exchanging the normal pleasantries.

“Just hopped out of the shower when you texted me.”

“Oh my lord are you dressed? Jinyoung, don’t tell me you’re trying to seduce me.” Jinyoung involuntarily tightened his hand against the top of his bathrobe. The brunette was dressed in only his boxers and the aforementioned robe.

“Shut up, I just need to throw on a t-shirt, you perv.”

“Do you have to?” 

Jinyoung keened at Brian’s flirty comment. The younger leaned back against the headboard, hand still gripping the robe.

“Are you trying to seduce me right now?” Jinyoung shot back. Just as Brian was about to say something, Jinyoung’s phone started vibrating. He pulled it away from his ear to see an incoming call from Jaebeom. That made Jinyoung sit up and stare at his phone. Jaebeom rarely called Jinyoung’s spare number unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Hey Brian, I have an urgent call that I have to pick up. I’ll text you later.” Jinyoung told Brian who replied with ‘that’s alright, good night, Jinyoung’. Jinyoung cut the call with Brian and picked up Jaebeom’s call. Jaebeom was saying something, but Jinyoung couldn’t hear anything clearly due to loud noises in the background.

“Jinyoungie, Jinyoungie” Jaebeom kept repeating the younger’s name, his speech slurred and voice giggly. Jinyoung realised that the elder was most probably drunk, causing him to act like that.

“Hyung, where are you?”

“At a bar, it’s really loud. The music is pretty cool though. I want another drink but the bartender won’t give me more and that made me sad so I called Nyoungie because Nyoungie makes Beommie happy.” Jinyoung tried to think of where his hyung might be. According to what he said he was pretty drunk and Jinyoung had to bring him back.

It suddenly clicked to Jinyoung that Jaebeom mentioned music. The elder hated music at normal clubs so he had found a small jazz bar in Seoul where he went when he really needed a drink to unwind.

“Hyungie, hang in there for me, will you? I’ll come and pick you up. Just wait for me.” Jinyoung said into the phone, throwing his jacket on and grabbing his keys. Jinyoung tried not to think about the comment the elder made about the brunette making him happy as the liquor talking as he drove to the bar.

Jinyoung spotted Jaebeom the moment he stepped into the club. The elder sat slumped over the bar top, chatting with the bartender. The club fortunately was small and exclusive, meaning the public wouldn’t find out about multi-millionaire Lim Jaebeom getting wasted and whining like a child. The bartender smiled at him as he approached Jaebeom, relieved that someone had finally come to pick the man up.

“Hyung, I’m here, let’s get you home.” Jinyoung shook Jaebeom’s shoulder, causing the elder to stir and sit up straight on the bar stool. Jinyoung cursed internally at how incredible his boss looked, dressed in dress pants, a plain white tee and a black blazer. His hair was mused due to him running his hand through it one too many times, a habit of his that he did when he was stressed.

“Jinyoungie came for Beommie!” Jinyoung tried not to act too surprised at how his boss was acting. The brunette had known Jaebeom for years and had gone out for drinks numerous times with him but not once had his cold-eyed, sharp-jawed hyung ever act like a pouty child. All Jinyoung wanted to do was to coo at Jaebeom and kiss his pouty lips but he instead concentrated on dragging the elder to his car and buckling him into the passenger seat.

“Hyung are you okay?” Jinyoung asked, glancing at his hyung who was slumped in his seat, eyes glossy as Jinyoung drove them home. Jaebeom just pouted more and fiddled unconsciously with the seat belt. Jinyoung waited for a couple of minutes for an answer but when he received none he turned to see Jaebeom sleeping. Reaching over, Jinyoung adjusted Jaebeom’s head to make sure his neck wasn’t hurting before turning back to the road.

After a bit of struggle to get Jaebeom out of the car and into Jinyoung’s apartment, he laid the elder down on the bed and took off his shoes. Jinyoung pulled the blanket over Jaebeom when he felt a hand grab his elbow. He turned to see Jaebeom’s eyes half open as he stuck out his hand from under the blanket to hold onto Jinyoung.

“Don’t leave Beommie. Nyoungie can’t leave Beommie,” The elder whined, pulling Jinyoung towards himself. Even though he didn’t put a lot of force, Jinyoung tripped on the carpet and fell right on top of Jaebeom. Their chests pressed up against each other as Jinyoung stared at Jaebeom with wide eyes. The elder wrapped his hand around Jinyoung’s waist and pecked his nose before dozing off.

Jinyoung’s body froze up as he felt the warmth of Jaebeom’s lips on his nose. He tried to move out of Jaebeom’s grip but Jaebeom just clutched him harder. The brunette had to resolve to kicking his shoes off and slowly squirm his way out. After almost fifteen minutes of struggling to loosen Jaebeom’s arm around him, Jinyoung gave up, turning his cheek to put some distance between their faces. Nuzzling his nose in Jaebeom’s neck instead, Jinyoung inhaled the scent that he always associated with Jaebeom, a strong mix of musk and citrus. Despite the adrenaline in Jinyoung’s body, it didn’t take long for the man to fall asleep in Jaebeom’s embrace.

Morning light filtered through the soft white curtains in Jinyoung’s room, causing the brunette to stir. He opened his eyes to see a head of raven hair and the peaceful face of Jinyoung’s boss. Still stuck in the haze of sleep, Jinyoung smiled softly as he small the tranquil expression on Jaebeom’s face. Without thinking, he lifted one of his hand to brush the man’s hair away from his face. Jinyoung felt a strong, warm hand in the small of his back pull him close to the elder and he nuzzled his face in the crook of Jinyoung’s shoulder.

Jaebeom slowly came to his senses as he felt the warm body against him. He tried to figure who he was hugging, but couldn’t remember anything past going to the club for a drink. Jaebeom pulled away from Jinyoung and looked up at him. Their eyes met for a moment and the realisation finally hit both of them as the scooted away from each other instantly.

“Jinyoung?” Jaebeom looked around and realised that he wasn’t in his own apartment and was, in fact, in Jinyoung’s bedroom. The younger had a mortified expression on his face as he tried to collect himself to reply to the elder.

“You called me from the club last night, hyung. You were wasted and so I brought you home. I was about to leave you here to sleep on your own but you very adamantly made me sleep with you.” 

Both the men felt their ears turn red and blushes spread on their cheeks as they took in the words Jinyoung said. Though well aware that it didn’t have any sexual connotations they couldn’t help that their minds wandered.

An awkward silence had settled between them, which Jinyoung hated, because before they visited Jaebeom’s mom, the two were used to cuddling and sleeping in the same bed together. After the dinner, the elder kept their relationship just about the same but the skinship had stopped abruptly.

It felt like the silence was choking Jinyoung, tightening its grip around Jinyoung’s throat. Instead of letting it get worse, Jinyoung excused himself to the bathroom, wanting to take a cold shower to clear his head. He lost track of how long he spent under the harsh spray of freezing water but by the time he was out, Jaebeom was gone.

Stepping into the kitchen to grab something to eat, Jinyoung noticed a full English breakfast, warm and ready on the counter. Jinyoung checked his phone to see a text from the elder apologising for troubling him and thanking him for the help. Jaebeom knew well that Jinyoung’s guilty pleasure was treating himself to the exorbitant foreign meal in front of him and it warmed Jinyoung’s heart, despite the awkward moments between the two not minutes prior.

Jinyoung remembered to text Brian in the morning, not wanting to spend the entire day stuck in his own head. He went out on a limb and invited the older over for dinner, which the latter happily accepted. The brunette spent the next few hours cleaning up his house and preparing snacks. Jinyoung wasn’t the best cook in the world so he ordered some food while waiting for Brian.

The bell rang at exactly six thirty as Jinyoung was fixing his hair in the mirror. The brunette was greeted with a warm smile, a bouquet of pale pink peonies and a bottle of red wine. Jinyoung felt his cheeks heat up at the elder's sweet gesture.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll get glasses for the wine." Jinyoung stepped aside and let Brian inside, walking to find a vase for the flowers. He joined the elder on the couch with two wine glasses and Brian poured the deep red liquid for both of them.

They chatted for an hour, talking about everything from work to their childhoods and everything in between. Words flowed between the two as they slowly polished off the bottle. They had gotten so comfortable on the couch that Jinyoung got the food from the dining table to the tea table in the living room for them to recline together and eat.

"So, everything fine from yesterday? You sounded pretty worried." Brian asked.

"A friend got pretty drunk and called me to bring them home. They're fine, just a bit stressed with work," Jinyoung explained. He didn't feel like mentioning that it was Jaebeom for some reason so left him out of the details.

"It's good that they're fine, but they interrupted something didn't they?" Jinyoung almost choked on his wine as Brian eyed him suggestively.

"You were trying to seduce me before we got cockblocked, weren't you?" Jinyoung quipped back. If Brian could be flirty, so could he.

"I was, wasn't I? So tell me, do you want to be seduced?" Brian raised Jinyoung's chin, whispering the words in his ear.

"What if I already I am?" Brian just chuckled at Jinyoung's response, pulling him in to kiss him. Just as their lips were about to touch, both of them jumped as the doorbell rang loudly.

After a moment of awkwardly staring at each other and laughing it off, Jinyoung got up to actually open the door, though he had no idea who could be on the other side of the door.

"Hyung?" Jinyoung asked, confused. Lo and behold, the Lim Jaebeom was standing outside Jinyoung's house, dressed in sweatpants and a large t-shirt with a photo of Snoop Dogg printed on it, two plastic bags hanging off his left arm.

"I got you your favourite pastry from Mark's cafe and some beer as an apology for last night."

Jinyoung's eyes darted guiltily inside his house, locking with Brian's in a silent apology. The elder just smiled and got off the couch, walking up to the door to leave.

"Is there someone here-Oh Younghyun-ssi, nice to see you again," Jaebeom said as he spotted Brian standing behind Jinyoung. 

He was smiling at Brian, but Jinyoung knew well that it wasn't his real smile, it was instead the one he put on when he was mad but couldn't show it in front of investors.

"The pleasure's all mine, Jaebeom. Jinyoungie and I had just finished eating. It is getting late so excuse me, but I will be taking a leave. Text me when you're free." 

Brian turned to Jinyoung and gave him a side hug and bowed at Jaebeom before leaving.

"Did I interrupt something?" Jaebeom asked belatedly.

"Maybe? Kinda?" It took a moment for the elder to realise what Jinyoung was intending and instantly he looked away, his ears burning red.

"Did you have to imply that I was cockblocking you?" Jaebeom groaned and Jinyoung just chuckled.

"Your words, not mine, hyung" He winked at the elder, snatching the bags from Jaebeom's hand and ushering him inside. The two settled on the couch and ate the sweets, Jaebeom cracking open a beer while Jinyoung passed, already buzzing from the wine.

"So, you and CEO Kang, huh?" Jaebeom asked, turning to see a nervous looking Jinyoung.

"Are you mad?" The question came out almost as a whisper, voice drenched in nervousness

"Why would I be mad Nyoungie? It's your life, Younghyun and I might be rivals but you're still my best friend and it's my duty to cheer you on, not get mad" Jinyoung let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. The elder just chuckled and patted Jinyoung's shoulder.

The patting suddenly stopped, causing Jinyoung to look up at his hyung. Jaebeom had a mortified expression on his face, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Hyung are you okay?" Jinyoung asked, sounding concerned.

"Did I say something dumb last night on the phone or when you picked me up?"

"Why do you ask, hyung?" Jinyoung didn't mean to let his hyung know that he had, in fact, said more than a few things to Jinyoung in his intoxicated state but his rushed voice gave away the truth, making the elder groan and bury his face in his hands.

"I tend to say dumb things when I'm drunk while I'm stressed Jinyoungie. Jackson had once recorded me while I was drunk and I kept talking about the things that were stressing me out, things that I didn't realise myself. Though that is not necessarily a bad thing, I tend to sound a bit, how do I put it, 'childish' when I'm drunk," Jaebeom confessed.

"I wouldn't say childish, more like cute." 

Jaebeom glared at Jinyoung's cheeky comment, grabbing him by the back of the neck and tackling him on the couch.

Fighting like that, they ended up with Jinyoung laying on the couch and Jaebeom half straddling the younger, holding his hands above his head in order to render them useless. Jaebeom's face hovered over Jinyoung's their breaths mingling when for the second time that day, they realised what position they were in.

Jaebeom immediately pulled back, allowing Jinyoung to sit up. Both of them took a moment to collect themselves, waiting for the other to break the silence. For once, it was Jaebeom who broke it.

"No but really, what did I say?"

"You mean what Beommie said?" Jinyoung imitated the way the elder spoke the night before, making the elder groan even more.

"You said and I quote, 'Nyoungie makes Beommie happy'. I never thought you could be so cute hyung. Imagine Offshore's Lim Jaebeom, cold, smart, ruthless business man acting like a literal five year old when drunk, I could never." 

Jaebeom punched Jinyoung's arm playfully, to which Jinyoung reacted by hissing and holding on to his arm.

Worried that he hurt his best friend, Jaebeom grabbed the younger's wrist to check his arm, only making him laugh loudly. Jaebeom hit him properly to teach him a lesson, rewarding the ravenette with a pouty Jinyoung.

"Well that is true though, you do make me happy," Jaebeom stated simply making Jinyoung's eyes widen.

"You can't just say things like that so casually, my poor heart. But I agree, you make me happy too, hyung. I love you, and I'll always be grateful for having a friend like you"

For the third time in the previous few days, Jinyoung saw something flash in his eyes. It felt almost like Jaebeom was bitter about something. He just said a simple 'I love you too' back before changing the topic.

Their conversation lasted late into the night and Jinyoung ended up falling asleep with his head on Jaebeom’s shoulder. The elder, noticing that the younger was asleep due to the lack of response to a question he asked, moved to pick Jinyoung up and took him to his bedroom, laying him down on his bed. Just as he was about to leave, he took one last look at the younger’s face, a soft smile adorning his face and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Jinyoung’s forehead.

It was almost as if a switch went off inside Jinyoung as his eyes shot open, staring at the elder who was still leaning over him. Making awkward eye contact for a moment, Jaebeom whispered ‘goodnight’ before leaving the room. It took a few minutes for Jinyoung to process what had happened. His hand shot up to his forehead, rubbing gently over where he had felt the elders’ lips.

It took a while for Jinyoung to fall asleep after that, early morning light peeking through his curtains as he finally fell into restless sleep. He woke up a little after one in the afternoon, groaning at his ringtone that woke him up. The man shuffled to find his phone, picking the call without checking the contact.

“I wanted to let you sleep in today since you slept late last night but Jackson will absolutely kill me if I don’t bring you along for lunch today. I’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes” Jaebeom cut the call before Jinyoung could even process what he was saying. He took a moment to blink the sleep out of his eyes before he jumped out of bed and hopped into the bathroom for a quick shower, quickly blow drying his hair and throwing on a pair of khaki dress pants with an oversized baby blue sweater and some sandals. Just as Jinyoung grabbed his wallet and house keys, he heard his phone ring, letting him know that Jaebeom was waiting for him downstairs.

The elder greeted him with a smile, leaning on the car’s door, dressed in a powder blue suit and a white shirt with the top few buttons undone, his hair which was longer than usual, framing his face.  Seeing Jinyoung approach the car, Jaebeom pulled away to open the door for the younger,  letting him get in before closing the door and walking around the car to sit in the driver’s seat. Jinyoung was rather surprised that Jaebeom was driving the car, so used to being driven around by their driver over the years as their empire has grown. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, some random pop song playing in the background when they reached their destination.

“Oh my god you two have finally upgraded to couple outfits. Does this mean Jaebeom hyung finally had the guts to ask Jinyoungie out?” Jackson fake screamed when he was rewarded with a slap to his arm at the comment. Jinyoung looked at Jackson with a perplexed expression, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he processed the implications of the words, while Jaebeom was openly seething at his best friend, before turning to look apologetically at Jinyoung.

Lunch was a torturous affair for Jaebeom as usual, with Jackson constantly making fun of the man, much to Jinyoung’s delight as his laughter filled the room with every new joke or old memory Jackson uttered. There was an almost melancholic smile on the elder’s face, the expression pulling somewhere deep within Jinyoung’s heart. He looked lost in his thoughts, and the Jinyoung felt a strong urge to pull the man into a tight hug and comfort him.

“Hyung” Jinyoung said some twenty minutes later, causing Jaebeom to snap out of his haze. Jackson was getting up to leave, letting them know that he had an urgent meeting to attend before walking away, leaving the two men along at their table. Jaebeom looked at Jinyoung before looking down at his plate, realising that neither of them had touched their food since it had arrived some half an hour prior. Signalling Jinyoung to eat, the two men finish their meals in silence, nothing other than the clatter of cutlery hitting the plate to be heard.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung said once more, his plate closed, back straight, hands folded in his lap. Jaebeom looked up from his food to see the younger’s tensed shoulders and nervous expression and closed his plate, sitting up properly to hum thoughtfully at him. The younger took a moment to look Jaebeom in the eyes, breathing in deeply to calm himself down and collect his thoughts.

“What was Jackson talking about?” Jinyoung could hear Jaebeom’s breath catch in his throat as his eyes widened, the older looked like he’d been caught red handed at some crime. Jaebeom brought his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there harshly. After a moment of awkward silence, Jaebeom cleared his throat to address Jinyoung.

“I may or may not have liked you since the day I met you? I get it if it’s super sudden and kinda creepy and also if I’m too old and you don’t like me like that. By the way you totally got your job on your own merit, I don’t want you to think that I hired you because I liked you, and now I’m just rambling and making a fool of myse-,“ Much to Jaebeom’s relief, before he could embarrass himself further, Jinyoung leaned towards Jaebeom, wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

Jaebeom whined as Jinyoung pulled away, chasing the younger’s lips as he moved to sit back in his seat. “I thought you didn’t like me, hyung,” Jinyoung admitted, looking down to where his fingers played with the hem of the table cloth. “I mean there were times when I felt like we had a connection but after what happened with your mom I just, lost hope, I guess.” 

Jaebeom smiled sadly as he recalled the incident with his family and Jinyoung.

“I have known I’m into guys for a long time, Nyoungie. The reason why my mom is so paranoid is that when I was in high school, she found me and my boyfriend at the time cuddling in bed and grounded me for weeks, sending me to the church to see if they could do anything about my ‘degeneracy,’ as much as I tried to lie to her that we were just friends. Church was not great, there are things that happened there that I don’t want to think about but before anything major could happen, my dad realised something was wrong and got me out of there. He sat me down and talked to me in a way mom never had, he told me he loved me regardless of who I loved, but he told me to be careful around my mother and also made me promise to introduce all my future boyfriends to him in exchange of him getting me out of that whole fiasco,” Jaebeom confessed.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” 

Jaebeom just shakes his head, smiling at Jinyoung before talking the younger’s hand in his own and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood, we can talk about that sometime else. Right now there are more important things to talk about.” 

Jinyoung raised his eyebrow at Jaebeom’s comment. The elder smiled, dropping down to one knee on the floor, Jinyoung continuing to look at him questioningly as he ignored the lingering eyes around them from the other patrons of the restaurant.

“Park Jinyoung, my Jinyoungie, I have known you for many years and liked you, nay, loved you for just as long. Will you be my boyfriend?” Jinyoung giggled as he nodded, paying no mind to the soft applause of the crowd around them, instead pulling Jaebeom up to place a kiss on his lips. “First of all, why you gotta be so cute? Second of all, did you just tell me that you love me, Lim Jaebeom?”

“I’m not cute, I’m sexy and also yes, Park Jinyoung, I love you, a lot.” 

Jinyoung laughed at the elder as he paid for their meal and stepped out to hop into Jaebeom’s car that took them to the office. The whispers around them were audible as Jaebeom laced his fingers with Jinyoung’s as they stepped into the building, a soft blush dusting the younger’s cheeks.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung called out later that day as he stepped into Jaebeom’s office, his tablet in hand. “The news is already out,” Jinyoung sounded nervous as he turned the tablet for Jaebeom to see but the elder paid no attention to it. 

“What news, baby?” 

Jinyoung almost whined at the nickname, glaring at the elder, who smirked, his eyes still glued to the screen though he was completely aware of Jinyoung’s reaction.

“About us dating. Someone at the restaurant took photos of us and it’s already out on most online news sites, it will most likely be in the papers by tomorrow.” 

Jaebeom finally turned to Jinyoung, a knowing smile on his face. “Well then, I’ll draft a statement that you can release tomorrow morning, let the internet speculate for tonight. You can go through it and edit it if required, just in case you feel uncomfortable about anything I say.” 

Jinyoung nodded, turning away to leave the room.

“Jinyoungie?” Jaebeom said, making Jinyoung halt and turn back to his boss. “I love you. Drive back to my place tonight? I can treat you to dinner.” 

Jinyoung smiled, nodding. He knew that he loved Jaebeom, but there was something holding him back from saying it out loud, the words getting stuck in his throat. The sudden conflicted expression that crossed Jinyoung’s face was enough to make Jaebeom understand and he just sent him off with a flying kiss.

The drive to Jaebeom’s place was quiet, Jinyoung cuddled in the elder’s lap as the shared kisses as whispers back and forth. Jaebeom, as promised, cooked dinner for the two of them when they got home, the two eating in a shared silence as Nora and Odd circled around their feet under the table. Jinyoung shooed the elder away to take a shower, taking it upon himself to wash the dishes and put them in their places before heading to Jaebeom’s bedroom.

Jinyoung settled on the bed, the sound of the shower going along the only sound in the room. He looked around the room, reminiscing the times he’d spent there with the elder, the memories of their friendship and companionship flooding his senses. The last time he had been in Jaebeom’s room, he had felt his heart break to pieces, the way the two of them had pulled away from each other, the closeness between them alien, had felt like an arrow piercing through his rib cage, the pain blooming in his chest. J

Jaebeom stepped out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping down his neck as he brushed a hand through his wet hair. The smirk that Jaebeom was very clearly failing to hide showed that the action was on purpose, and Jinyoung could also play along. He looked straight at the elder’s face, eyes challenging, which just made Jaebeom chuckle and head to his closet to find an extra towel to dry his hair and his pyjamas to change into.

Jinyoung stared at the way the muscles in Jaebeom’s back rippled as he pulled on a t shirt over his head, immediately looking away when the elder turned around. Jaebeom didn’t fail to notice the way Jinyoung’s ears went red at almost getting caught but decided to tease the younger about it on a later date. Turning back to search through his armoire, Jaebeom pulled out some clothes and threw them at Jinyoung.

“Wait why do you still have these?” 

The clothes Jaebeom gave him were Jinyoung’s clothes back from when he used to actually spend time with the elder at his house. He didn’t recollect leaving them with Jaebeom because they had become part of his closet so naturally. Jinyoung used to spend so many nights at the elder’s place that he just left one set of home and work clothes in his closet. Jinyoung couldn’t believe it had been nearly two years since that fateful night.

“I realised that after what happened with my mom you wouldn’t be very comfortable staying over but I didn’t have the heart to throw any of it away and part of me wanted to still keep it, knowing that there was a time where you were a part of my life” Jaebeom confessed, making Jinyoung coo at the elder.

“Well, you only gave me a drawer before, this time you’re clearing half  your cupboard cause I’m not going anywhere” Jinyoung made grabby hands, making Jaebeom laugh and climb the bed to press a soft kiss to Jinyoung’s lips. Once the younger took a shower and got changed, he slipped under the covers, cuddling close to the elder before being lulled to sleep.

The dating announcement received mostly positive responses from the public, Jaebeom holding a press conference to confirm the rumours. Jinyoung did receive some amount of hate, but Jaebeom stood by him through all of it. There were some investors and employees who left due to their ideology clash but it was mostly civil. The country was far from accepting LGBTQ+ people openly but Jaebeom had been too loved by the community to be shunned over it.

Jackson took it upon himself to release a statement immediately after theirs, openly supporting the couple and coming out himself, confessing that it was the strength of his friends that gave him the courage to talk openly about being gay and being proud about it.

The three of them went for dinner together that night, Jackson adamant of celebrating the new it couple of Korea. They decided it was probably best to finish early though, since they were exhausted from the events of the day.

Just as they stepped into Jaebeom’s apartment after dinner, the elder’s phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket to check the contact and his face paled immediately, his hands shaking. Jinyoung rushed to check on his boyfriend, glancing down to see his mother’s face on the phone. He held onto the elder’s shoulders and urged him to look at him, forcing him to take deep breaths before Jaebeom picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Jaebeom’s voice quivered as he spoke, the call on speaker so that Jinyoung could also hear.

“I don’t check the news for one day and you announce that you’re dating that faggot. Didn’t I tell you to fire him years ago! Jaebeom what has he done to you? I should have never let your dad take you out of the church programme!” Jinyoung placed his hand over the elder’s fist as he grinded his knuckles into his thigh, clearly angered.

“Listen to me carefully, Jaebeom. You’re going to fire that boy immediately and tell the public that it was a lie or something” Before Jinyoung could stop Jaebeom from saying something like last time, Jaebeom had already lost his cool.

“Enough is enough mom! I’ve known I’m gay for years but I never told you because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. Do you have any idea what they did to me in the church? Ask dad about it sometime. Had he not gotten me out of there you might have not had a son right now. I love Jinyoung and regardless of what you say I’m not leaving him, not now, not ever. If you can’t accept me like this then so be it,” Jaebeom cut the call, his face red, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung whispered, the sound making the elder collapse into his arms. They laid like that for hours, Jinyoung’s shirt getting drenched with the elder’s tears. It broke his heart, he had been lucky enough to have a supportive family. He didn’t want to be the reason Jaebeom stopped talking to his mother but he also loved his boyfriend.

Just as Jinyoung was about to drag the elder to bed, his phone rang once again, startling them. Jaebeom had half the heart to ignore it, but when he saw his father’s caller id, se instantly sat up, wiping his tears before picking up the call, putting it on speaker and placing it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Jaebeom?” Jinyoung smiled despite himself at the sound of Jaebeom’s father’s voice.

“Dad,” Jaebeom mustered, his voice was audibly broken and he didn’t have the energy to hide it.

“I tried to stop her from calling you, but she waited till I was out of the house. I’m really sorry about everything she said. I love you, my son, and I hope you know that,” The tears rolled down Jaebeom’s cheeks once again as he mumbled an ‘I love you too’ to his father.

“And Jinyoung?” The younger made a startled noise at his name being called out.

“I know you’re listening, I just wanted to apologise to you too, for what Jaebeom’s mother said. I’ve seen how my son looks at you, please take care of him, he makes me worry sometimes. And you two are coming here immediately, didn’t I tell you to introduce me to your boyfriends, Jaebeom?”

“But dad I literally asked him out yesterday! And anyways you’ve already met Nyoungie before,” Jaebeom said.

“You two have already started with the cute nicknames, huh? I briefly met him two years ago Jaebeom. I’m so sorry it took so long for this brat to tell you his feelings, he’s a bit dumb, don’t know where he gets it from” Jaebeom whines at his father’s comments are Jinyoung laughs, thanking the elder before cutting the call.

Jaebeom sighed heavily as he looked up at the younger, his hands wiping at his face to get rid of the tears. There was a comfortable silence between them, both having accepted that their relationship wasn’t going to be easy. It took a while for them to finally get up but they did, eventually moving to the bed to actually get a good night’s rest.

The following week they visited Jaebeom’s parents’ home, both of them buzzing with anxiety. Jaebeom squeezed Jinyoung’s shaking hand firmly, silently reassuring him before ringing the bell. Jaebeom’s father opened the door with a bright smile, ushering both of them inside and giving them warm hugs.

They had just settled down in the drawing room when Jaebeom’s mother came in, her fingers fidgeting and her gaze lowered. Jinyoung immediately stiffened looking at her, the anxiety strongly surging its way up his spine.

“Jaebeom can I talk to you in private for a moment” Her voice was little above a whisper, words strained. The elder turned to Jinyoung, giving him a soft smile before following his mum inside.

“Jinyoung, thank you for loving my son. He has secrets that not a lot of people know about, things he’s gone through that have left him scarred. I had almost thought I lost my son at one point but then you came into his life. I remember the day he hired you, he smiled for the first time for what felt like years. I didn’t think I’d get to see my Jaebeom smile again but I did, thanks to you. He finally opened up to Jackson after meeting you, helping him heal more. You got him out of hell, Jinyoung. I’m not going to put a burden on your shoulders by saying you fixed him or whatever, but you did help my son a lot. Love him for as long as you can, and even if that’s not forever, you’ll always be my son and I’ll always be grateful that Jaebeom and I got the opportunity to get to know you” Jinyoung nodded, using one hand to wipe away his tears as Jaebeom’s father pulled him in for a hug.

Jaebeom returned shortly after with his mom, both of their faces tear stained. Jaebeom’s mother stood in front of Jinyoung, pulling him in for a hug, making the younger surprised. She cried apologies into his shoulder, rambling nonstop as Jinyoung rubbed her back to comfort her. Once she had calmed down, she pulled away, chuckling awkwardly at the scene before pulling him to the dining room for dinner.

Conversation after that flowed easily, the air of awkwardness having been swept away. They had their fill of Jaebeom’s mother’s food, stuffed till bursting. The goodbyes weren’t sad or forced, they genuinely enjoyed their time and Jinyoung hoped that in the future he could spend more time with them.

Days after that flowed by quickly, Jinyoung finally moving in with the elder six months into their relationship with his lease expired. Things were going fine till they weren’t. Jinyoung woke up in the middle of the night once to see Jaebeom’s face twisted in pain, his body covered in sweat. He shook the elder awake, who jumped as he came to his senses.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Jaebeom just nodded, washing his face and drinking some water before cuddling Jinyoung back to sleep, ignoring his protests. This went on for months, Jinyoung waking up at least once a month to the elder screaming in his sleep. Every time he asked about it though, the elder clammed up and his brain shut down, refusing to respond to his questions.

Exasperated and worried he called Jackson who told him to give Jaebeom some more time. He waited for a total of three months before barging into their bedroom one evening and locking the door behind him, trapping the two of them inside of the room.

“Hyung please, just tell me what’s wrong. I know it’s hard to talk about but I can’t bear to see you screaming in your sleep every other night. I don’t want to force you to answer but please, let me in, let me help you” Jaebeom looked scared as he met eyes with Jinyoung, sighing heavily before dragging Jinyoung into bed with him.

“I don’t know where to start Jinyoungie, I want to tell you everything but I feel like if you found out how broken I am you’ll want to leave” Before Jinyoung could protest Jaebeom held one hand up, breathing deeply before starting again, “I told you about church being bad, but never what happened there. They tied us up and threw us into small dark closets, trying to ‘pray the gay away’. We tried to get out but just got caught and the punishments got worse. They tried so many different things I barely remember most of it. I tried to take my life at least three times while I was there but I every time I failed and they called me weak for trying and a coward for not going through with it. I’ve had bad nightmares since I left but it slowly got better till a few months ago” Jinyoung ran his hand through the elder’s hair trying to calm him down.

“I was at in my office when Youngjae came in, saying that someone wanted to meet me. I thought it would a client or something but it turned out to be one of the priests. He said he wanted to check up on me after he heard about us dating. I was about to get him escorted out but he started chanting the prayers that they used to make us say there and my brain just shut down. I couldn’t move, Jinyoung, it was like I was back, trapped in that closet with no food and water, begging to be let out. I felt like I was about to faint when Jackson barged into the room for our scheduled meeting and saw me like that. He had the man leave and sat by me as I cried myself to sleep. I told him everything when I woke up and made him promise to not tell you. I’m broken, Jinyoung, I might look like a strong man but I’m not. I scream in my sleep and cry like a child, I get if you’re not interested in handling my emotional baggage.”

“Hyung, I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I want you to heal. I think the first thing you should do is visit a therapist, you need to get all of these emotions out safely and you need help. I’ll be by your side through it all” Jinyoung reassured the elder, his own eyes wet with tears.

“I was too scared to try but I want to, for us, Jinyoung. I love you so much” Jinyoung felt the words rise up his chest as he looked at the elder bear his scars to him.

“I love you too, hyung” Jaebeom’s face broke into the brightest smile he’d ever seen as Jinyoung spoke those words. It took him a while to say it for the first time but he knew that Jaebeom knew that he loved him regardless of whether he said it or not.

Jaebeom went to therapy soon after, finally opening up about his past completely. The nightmares got better and he eventually testified against the conversion therapy being done in his church, leading to the priests being convicted. Healing wasn’t easy for Jaebeom, he still screamed in his sleep sometimes but Jinyoung was always there by his side, taking care of him, and for them, that was more than enough.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter Two

                  Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Two

Claire emerged from a taxi in a tight black pencil skirt and black high heels as she walked into the upscale restaurant. She knocked on a door with a “espace de rangement” sign on display. The door opened to a nice looking man, impeccably dressed, and she could see her Godfather standing to greet her. He held his arms out for an embrace.

“My darling Bear, it is so good to see you alive and well.” He kissed both of her cheeks and looked her over for bruises. “Quite a scare you gave me yesterday.” He looked into her eyes, “did you arrange for the explosion? The news is reporting natural causes, a gas leak I believe.”

“Certainly not. I wouldn’t put the art at risk like that, besides, I could have done it in my sleep.”

“The news had video of you being rescued, quite terrifying. Do you know the man you were trapped with?”

“Yes, James Fraser. For twenty hours I laid on top of Jamie Fraser and found him to be quite charming and attentive.”

Javier Charvet laughed from his belly and looked at his men enjoying the humor. He pulled a chair out for Claire and sat down next to her. Someone spread a white cloth in front of him while Claire pulled a rolled canvas from her purse. Javier put white gloves on and carefully unrolled the painting where he could examine it under a high powered magnifying glass. He sat up and signaled to his man who left the room, presumably to initiate the transfer of the deed for the Italian property.

“Little Bear, what in God’s name is the Senator doing? I’m talking about his bid for governor announced today.”

“His what?”

Javier looked up with compassionate eyes. “You didn’t know. Has the bastard even called you yet?”

“Yes, yes, I got a call from Mary this morning.”

“And all this time I thought his name was Frank.”

“Mary is his secretary, like his right hand.”

“I know Bear, like I know what grades she got in middle school and that she is a lesbian. I was being sarcastic.”

Javier could see the pain on Claire’s face and backed off. “You must go, I understand. I will have the deed delivered to you in a few hours. Go out through the kitchen, Joseph is waiting to take you back.”

Javier Charvet was a best friend to Claire’s father until the day he died, along with her mother, in a car crash. He tried to get custody of little Claire, but her Uncle Lamb was a blood relative and the courts awarded custody to him. Javier continued to fight for her through the years they were in Egypt and South America, arguing it was no place to raise a young lady. Finally, when Claire was fifteen, the court let her decide where she wanted to live and she chose France with Javier.

Claire did not want to hurt Uncle Lamb, but she was ready to get out of the dirt and sleep in a regular house with indoor plumbing. The warm love and attention she received from Javier was an unexpected bonus and she blossomed under his care. Whenever he saw her, his face would light up and he would call her Claire Bear which was shortened through the years to just Bear. She stayed with Javier through graduate school, leaving for America when she was hired by University of Chicago. That was three years ago.

Claire sat back in the front seat and sighed. She was reeling emotionally after hearing Frank had announced his bid for governor. He never talked to her about it, come to think of it, he never talked about anything. Their relationship felt settled and comfortable from day one, like couples who had spent thirty years together. She couldn’t remember either of them doing anything romantic for the other and suddenly felt like crying her eyes out. What she needed was a day to be selfish and pretend she was someone else who wasn’t saddled with a flatline relationship. She directed Joseph to the retail district and blew him a kiss promising to find a safe way home. She wanted to be free for the next two days and that started with something fun and funky to wear tomorrow.

Javier assigned two of his men to investigate the Senator again. “Find out what projects have his support, who are the major players, who is backing his bid for governor. Find out what master he serves.”

The next day, Claire woke up excited to walk the Louvre. She straightened her hair and added some makeup before jumping into one of her new sundresses. She looked into the full-length mirror and giggled at the strange reflection. The top of the dress was fitted, connecting at the back of her neck leaving her shoulders bare. The skirt had yards of soft fabric that fell just below her knee and a studded belt. The dress was sunshine yellow with silver studs. Nothing could be farther from the tailored suits and conservative colors that filled her closets at home. She smiled and almost skipped out of the hotel to catch a taxi.

Jamie sat at the hotel pool sipping his coffee, and quietly losing his mind. The team spent seven hours yesterday pouring over every art theft attributed to Casper… again, and they had nothing. He took a deep breath and started making phone calls to those he served feeling like he would explode any minute. He had checked the airlines and knew there were no flights to Chicago until tomorrow, so she was still in town most likely. He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Fuck it, he thought, let's see if lightning will strike twice. He made his way to the Louvre.

Claire drifted happily through the museum walking close to the Virgin of the Rocks to examine the brush strokes. She jumped when someone spoke to her from behind.

It’s obvious there was a second hand, don’t you agree?”

Claire spun around to see Jamie Fraser smiling at her. There was initial surprise and happy excitement in her face which she covered quickly, turning back to the painting.

“I do not agree. I have always advocated a single hand and it’s the crazy conspiracy theorists who lead people down that road. You should know better than to comment on fine art, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie looked confused by her comment. “I beg to differ madam. I have an art degree after all.”

Claire giggled at the hurt look he concocted, “what kind of degree?”

When she turned back to him and looked up at his face, Jamie nearly forgot to breathe. “Nothing like yours and may I ask how you are allowed to walk the streets of an unsuspecting Paris? How many cars collided watching you walk down the sidewalk, hmmm?”

Claire was laughing at his charm and feeling flattered. “Suppose you do Paris a favor and walk with me?”

Claire looped her arm in his and they walked, admired the paintings, sat and discussed, joked and flirted for hours. Jamie’s knowledge of the masters was surprising and made for stimulating conversation. He had a profound appreciation for the art and artist, much like her own. After four hours they called it a day and went to find a sidewalk cafe for refreshment. Claire watched Jamie look through the three menus at the table and decided to be brave.

“Come on, handsome, this place is too boring.” She spun in the other direction as the wind caught the ample fabric of her skirt and teased it up until she could get a hold of it. They heard a loud crash as a driver struck a parked car and suddenly Jamie’s arm was around her waist pulling her along.

“I rest my case madam. Where is it we are going for more exciting refreshment?”

Claire was laughing at Jamie and feeling bad for the driver, “it’s close and you will love it because they have beer and volleyball outside. It’s quite popular in America.”

Jamie could not get the image of Claire’s legs out of his mind but dedicated himself to being less flirty with her. With a last look at her backside, he let his eyes follow the curves to her feet.

“I can’t believe you can walk the Louvre in heels.”

“I bought flat sandals for today but kept running into walls, so I went back to what I’m used to.”

“Thank God they don’t accentuate your statuesque figure, or perfect posture,” said rolling his eyes, making her laugh again.

She was so easy to talk to, and joke with, Jamie winced remembering her disarming banter in the Louvre that made him a slave to her enjoyment.

“Listen, Sassenach, I am sorry for the flirting, I lost my head with a very pretty girl, who is engaged to be married. I promise to behave like a gentleman while we have a beer and then see you home safely. Right after this…” He pulled her to him and stuck his nose against her neck breathing deeply and releasing her instantly with a happy grin. “You smell like heaven lass.”

Claire was stunned by the cascade of feelings elicited by Jamie’s hug and the feel of his skin against her neck. When he released her she almost fell over, reaching for his arm to steady herself.

“That’s quite alright, it is a lovely scent.”

They entered a dark bar with a rousing crowd who were drinking the afternoon away. The beer was reviving while they talked about their time under the rubble and the mouse that ran up her leg. He asked about her lecture, fascinated by her travels to bring the love of art to the masses. She had been in more countries than he had and entertained him with anecdotes. Sitting in a booth gave her the freedom to look at his face, shoulders, and arms. He was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt that did little to hide his massive biceps and chest. She was careful to look discreetly until the second beer arrived which made it harder to pretend.

“Let’s watch the volleyball for a while, Sassenach, then I’ll see you back to your hotel.”

The fresh air helped to clear Claire’s head and she chose a team to root for. The game was fast and fun and she lost herself in the competition, slapping Jamie’s leg at times when her team scored. She didn’t notice how quiet he had become.

True to his word, Jamie was polite and attentive for the rest of their time together. Inside, he went to battle with the part of himself that wanted a girl like Claire and would be ruthless to win her. His decent side won, and he dropped her at her hotel before kissing her forehead and thanking her for a memorable afternoon.

Claire smiled and waved goodbye. Her glass face always gave the observer a look into her true emotion and Jamie saw her confusion and her interest. He needed to get out of Paris, first thing tomorrow. Go home to Scotland and forget about this time with the Sassenach. It felt like he lost a piece of himself today, a piece that remained with her. It made him feel empty inside.

Claire ordered food in her room and sat on the terrace, thinking about Jamie, Paris, and Frank. If he had given her his cell phone number, she would have called him and talked about her crazy feelings and desire for him. He mentioned the name of his hotel several times that afternoon. She tried to resist the seduction that played on a continuous loop in her mind. If only…

Jamie opened his eyes in a dark room when he felt his bed move and was instantly awake. He smelled her perfume and rolled toward the scent as she turned on a light. She was removing her shoes and then her belt and looked like she might join him in bed.

“Your dress lass.”

Claire twisted the button under her hair and pulled the dress over her head letting it drop to the floor. He pulled her to him and kissed her like his life depended on it. The kisses were sweet and long, building the fire she craved. For the next hour, he felt each curve, tasted every part of her, and pushed himself into her wet softness when she begged him to.

Claire walked naked to his room refrigerator where she stashed a bottle of champagne and a bowl of fresh strawberries. She pushed pillows against the headboard so Jamie could sit up and then straddled him, handing him a glass and placing a strawberry in his mouth. The ground rules were unspoken yet they both knew not to ask or comment on what this was. It just was.

“How is it you move through my door, room, and refrigerator without making a sound lass?”

“I’m a cat burglar,” said with honesty

Later Jamie led Claire to his outside patio with the lights of Paris spread far and wide. He danced with her, naked, holding her close, with a promise of more. Claire was very aware she was dancing with the enemy. The man was obsessed with bringing her down and his life was dedicated to that pursuit. None of it was lost on her so she lived each second with him. They made love once more and he gripped her to him as they fell asleep.

Claire looked up at Jamie’s window before getting into her cab. She would not see him again unless she made a mistake and he caught Casper. She wondered if she could walk away from stealing art for a man like Jamie. The answer was moot. It was the only thing that made her feel alive.

Later, Claire walked to the front desk to check out of the hotel. On her way to the exit, she felt someone pull her back and looked into the eyes of Jamie Fraser. He reached into her purse and pulled her phone out, punching in his contact information. He kissed her soundly and stroked her cheek.

“I still owe you a life Sassenach, and as I said, I’ll be the first one there.” He disappeared into the throng of people leaving the resort and Claire dropped into a couch to slow her racing heart.

Landing at O’Hare airport did wonders for popping the pink balloon Claire was in. She looked out at the familiar sights of home and Jamie Fraser was reassigned to the distant memory file in her mind. Like so many Sorority nights in her past. She felt strong and ready to tackle the remainder of the semester. When she saw Geillis she quickened her step and hugged her friend like her favorite puppy. The two women chatted while waiting for luggage and then heading home. When Claire walked into her townhouse Paris no longer existed. She was back.

Jamie had to get out of Paris before he lost his mind. Another failed attempt to catch Casper and a stunning girl left her mark on him and then disappeared. He made haste getting back to his farm in Scotland where the demands of the land would pull him back to normal. He assigned his top man to wrap up the investigation at Sotheby’s auction house and the report was waiting in is outlook when he got to Scotland.

The explosion was caused by a gas leak, the vault video was disabled by some sort of bright light beam, there were no fingerprints unaccounted for, and the handlers were questioned but added no clues. One female handler said she left the vault for a couple of minutes with Professor Beauchamp to find the audio technician and heard the auto-locking door to the vault slam behind her. As usual, Casper left no leads to follow and disappeared with a Rembrandt worth thirty million dollars. He had nothing.

Claire and Geillis wrapped up the semester in the final month. There were graduate dissertations to evaluate, term papers to read, and final exams to grade. It was a busy month and both looked forward to a summer off. Geillis would spend two months in her pool by day and the clubs by night. Claire would be away most of that time, lecturing, appraising, promoting her book, and stealing art.

She knew she had been in the game too long. Statistically, she was on borrowed time as a thief and when she was caught, she would lose her freedom for the next twenty years. Aside from quitting, she took every precaution including secure communication, the best VPN, encryption security, and a code translator that was owned by Javier because he commissioned the program. There were no back doors installed in the programming, verified by the best security experts in France. He named the program Tom, and no one knew why. Tom was installed on Claire’s home computer and on Javier’s, no one else would use it, see it in action, or ask questions about it. Claire’s heart jumped when she saw the message and she sent it to Tom. Thirty-six seconds later she read the message from Javier and smiled.

“Easy Peezy,” she said out loud as she sent a coded RSVP and agreed to the terms, one point five million in gold. The compensation received for her service had been routed to several off-shore accounts in the beginning and her wealth grew at a staggering rate. Cash felt like an anchor that would sink her in an investigation so she switched to valued properties that would be harder to discover. The gold would be kept in a bank vault locally and used for catastrophic expenses in the future, like hiring a team of defense lawyers. It would cost her two or three hundred thousand just to get it to Chicago, but she would pay it.

Her cell phone played Frank’s ringtone and she felt a boulder in her stomach.

“Hello darling, just touching base about this weekend. Do you have plans for us yet?”

“No Frank, you have not been home since the break started so I will consider you still gone until I actually see you.”

“Alright, fair enough. I have been invited to a private island, owned by a billionaire. The people that are funding my campaign have asked me to go. It almost sounds like a rite of passage kind of thing.”

“Well, best of luck with the upcoming test of manhood, or whatever it is.”

Claire trapped her lip between her teeth and was grinding on it as Frank talked. She was so mad at him and hurt by his estrangement. This was the time of year he spent in Chicago but he was still in Washington with his high-powered new friends that filled his calendar with things to do and people to meet. She tasted blood in her mouth and went back to her packing. Her flight to Germany left in twelve hours and it would be a tense few days once she got there.

Claire paid the admission to the Johannisburg Castle, host to the Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh exhibit. She played with the micro camera hidden in a broach and pinned to her sweater, the remote was deep in a pocket of her trousers. With luck, she would have clear pictures of the employee badges, the security cameras, and the exhibit hall by dinner. Tonight she would finish her fake statue of King Amenhotep III, Tutankhamun’s grandfather who guarded his tomb for millennia before it was discovered and plundered by archaeologists in 1922. The statue would not stand up to scrutiny, but she just needed a few minutes to get out of the building.

Claire plugged a USB into the back of the pendant and downloaded the pictures onto her laptop while the last coat of gold paint was drying on the little statue. She launched her graphics program and got to work, creating an employee badge that would pass at a glance.

Claire noticed the incoming handlers would have their badges scanned before coming into the castle. When leaving for the day, they were scanned to ensure none of the treasures were going home with them. Each piece in the collection was tagged with a liquid that emitted a dose of radiation high enough to be outside the normal range but low enough to be safe. She would skip the scanner and leave through the ceiling, like she came. By midnight, everything was ready, by tomorrow night at this time she would be one and a half million dollars richer.

Claire laid in bed, but sleep would not come. She reached for her phone, launching her contacts. For the hundredth time since leaving Paris, she looked at Jamie’s name and brought the whole evening back to her mind. It was such a sweet sadness that filled her, and each time she did this Frank became less and less important. In her dreams, she slept in Jamie’s embrace all night.

[to44y]

39 Role-Play Fantasies Every Gay Couple Should Try

By Alexander Cheves

39 Role-Play Fantasies Every Gay Couple Should Try

I snuck into the bedroom on all fours. I was tired. It had been a long day. My boyfriend at the time was sleeping on the bed. I started sniffing his neck until a sleepy grin formed on his face. When I knew he was awake, I licked him — a long, sloppy, wet lick up his cheek — then ran to the living room. 

I heard him behind me. “Where are you going, puppy?” I was being bad. I was on all fours, shaking my ass on the sofa in his direction. He pulled out his dick and said, “Here boy.” 

This is role play. Specifically, this is “puppy play” — a form of role play I love the most. Role play can be spontaneous or pre-planned, and as elaborate as you make it. At its simplest, role play happens when two adults consensually engage in an eroticized pretend game, a shared sex fantasy. And it is not limited to two adults — group role play offers some of the hottest sex experiences imaginable.  

Everything in the world can inspire role play. You could do sofa role play and have someone sit on you. The most iconic gay role play scenarios have been done and redone endlessly by gay porn companies because they work — “Daddy and Son” will never get old — but that does not mean you can’t try them out for yourself. Try these 39 role play scenarios for the adventurous gay couple. Use your imagination! 

A Word of Warning From Writer Alexander Cheves

My name is Alexander Cheves, and I am known by friends in the kink and leather community as Beastly. I am a sex-positive writer and blogger. The views in this slideshow do not reflect those of The Advocate and are based solely off of my own experiences. Like everything I write, the intent of this piece is to break down the stigmas surrounding the sex lives of gay men.

Those who are sensitive to frank discussions about sex are invited to click elsewhere, but consider this: If you are outraged by content that address sex openly and honestly, I invite you to examine this outrage and ask yourself whether it should instead be directed at those who oppress us by policing our sexuality.

For all others, enjoy the slideshow. And feel free to leave your own suggestions of sex and dating topics in the comments.

Hungry for more? Follow me on Twitter @BadAlexCheves and visit my blog, The Beastly Ex-Boyfriend. 

1. Construction Workers

As I write this, the house next door is being renovated. If you listened to them, you would think a gay porno was being shot outside my window. Lots of laughing and group camaraderie with one poor guy (the sub) making pained, grunting noises. He’s being paddled with what sounds like a wooden paddle wrapped in sandpaper. Just when I think the mean top is about to ease up, the sound of an electric drill starts, and the guys start laughing again. They’re playing old school country music and I imagine there’s lots of spitting. One of them literally says, “It’s a bitch.” 

Construction worker role play is a great group role play to get into if you can conjure up some buddies and orange vests — and you can even redo your kitchen in the process.

2. Sports Teammates

There seems to be more “locker room” gay porn than any other sub-genre. You know the scenario: a young freshman walks in the locker room among the beefy seniors on his football team, who have a nasty initiation ritual planned for him after practice. 

Accouterments of this play involve sports gear (a fetish all on its own), knee-high socks, gym shorts, copious amounts of sweat, and that wonderful camaraderie that forms when the group’s submissive guy gets bent over a bench press. 

3. Frat Boys

The gay porn site Fraternity X has capitalized on the fantasy of frat boy hazing. All their videos have the same basic narrative: a group of horny college guys are sitting around in a trash-strewn commons area drinking beer and watching TV when one bro starts running his mouth. Before long, his hands are tied and his mouth stuffed with someone’s underwear while everyone takes turns fucking him in a swivel chair. “Come on bro, it’s not gay if it’s with your brothers.” 

4. Brothers

When my ex-boyfriends and I visited new cities where no one knew us, we would sometimes say we were brothers. It was funny sometimes, a lark — other times, it was really sexy. At the local gay watering hole, we would tell the guys interested in us that we were related and see how many of them believed it. I’m not sure many did — especially when we got a little drunk and started making out on the dance floor — but they wanted to. Many guys have a brother fantasy. This is an easy one to role play in the bedroom, and there are endless imagined scenarios available to you: Big brother is visiting home from college and has to share your bedroom for a night. You two are close and like to wrestle, and one day the wrestling goes a little too far when one of you gets excited.

5. Strangers

Anonymous public hookups are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Our mediated, digitalized hookup culture has all but replaced discreet staring contests in the gym and public cruising in parks and bathrooms. Many formerly cruisey places are more heavily watched now, and your success rate is inevitably lower. 

Also, some guys have some discomfort with completely anonymous sex. The risk of sexually transmitted infections is a factor — although, to be sure, someone who says they love you poses the same risk unless they’ve been rigorously tested. 

One solution to all these is to do anonymous role play with someone you know. If you want to play in public, plan to meet up somewhere that you are fairly certain will offer some privacy. If your fantasy is to anonymously pick up a stranger and take him back home, this is easier: just plan to meet somewhere (the gym, a bookstore) and watch him from across the room. Pretend you don’t know each other, and when the time is right, make that classic, subtle head nod — “Let’s get out of here.” 

6. Coach and Player

Another common gay porn scenario: the gruff, frustrated football coach tells his star quarterback to stay after practice for some additional training. For obvious reasons, this scenario works great for group role play as well. Who says the coach only has one MVP? 

7. Pup and Handler

Like many scenes in the world of kink, puppy play at its simplest is a form of role play. It falls under a broader category of role play types called “pet play.” In pet play, humans act stereotypically like different animals before and during sex. 

Like all forms of role play, puppy play is as simple or complex as you make it. Some pups — myself included — love the pup headspace and extend it past the bedroom into daily life. We do this by wearing collars, barking at/sniffing guys on the dance floor, and sitting/kneeling whenever our handlers/boyfriends say, “Sit.” 

There is an inherent power dynamic in puppy play, and many pups would say there is a Dominant/submissive relationship. Pups are automatically submissive to handlers. A good pup loves getting scratches, treats (sexual or otherwise), and led around on a leash by a handler. And while this is certainly not always the case, handlers are typically tops and pups bottoms (alpha pups being a common exception — see number 11). 

Puppy play is implicitly, if not explicitly, a sex role play, but some pups and handlers have removed the sex aspect of it and turned puppy play into a practice more akin to yoga — a de-stressing activity that frees them from the daily rigor of life. While I’m certainly not one such pup, I think that reveals something important about role play itself. There can be a therapeutic aspect to adult pretend games, if only because they remove you from your daily headspace and allow you to be imaginative. We know the positive effects that playing has on children, but few cultures have spaces for adults to do the same. 

8. Kitty and Cat Owner

This is like puppy play, but the submissive guy acts like a cat. This features of this role play are endless: rubber or latex cat suits, tail plugs, and felt mice dangling on a string. 

9. Pony and Rider

Pony play follows the same basic form as the other pet play types. Human ponies love neighing, wearing bits in their mouths (ones designed specifically for human pony play, as actual metal bits will break teeth), and being taken for a ride. The rubber, latex, and leather gear for pony play gets pretty elaborate and very costly, but I know some guys who have an almost quasi-religious dedication to pony play and are willing to fork over the cash. If Equus and all the endless bestiality porn on the internet reveals anything, it’s that horses inspire something very carnal and sexual in us humans. 

10. Pig and Farmer

In modern gay lexicon, a “pig” is a guy who loves bareback sex and male bodily fluids (cum, piss, spit, and sometimes scat), so it should come as no surprise that pig play has evolved as a form of pet play that typically involves all these things. Say “oink” when the farmer comes around with his fisting gloves — you’re in for a wild night. 

11. Beta Pup and Alpha Pup

There is nothing more fun than pupping out with another pup, which means barking, roughhousing, wrestling, licking, and rolling around on the bed with another guy that shares the pup headspace. If you’re a beta pup (submissive), you hope to pup out with an alpha — one that gets dominant when you start sniffing his groin. 

12. Slave and Master

The range of power dynamics in the world of kink can be explained by placing them on a spectrum. On one end, you have puppy play — a mild role play with a relaxed Dom/sub dynamic (some guys say there is not a Dom/sub dynamic at all). On the opposite end, you have Master/slave. Although extreme, Master/slave is still a role play — one that typically involves hardcore BDSM, leather, rubber, extreme bondage and restraint, temporary imprisonment, and long-term domestic service (washing, cleaning, yard labor, etc.), all in service of the Dom/Master. 

13. Doctor and Patient

You’ve undoubtedly seen these scenarios in porn. The restrained male patient needs an anal exam from the rugged doctor, who is conspicuously naked beneath his white coat and stethoscope. Doctor and patient role play is enhanced by a plethora of sex toys and kink supplies that fall under the “medical fetish” umbrella — speculums, metal douching nozzles, anal probes, white latex gloves, etc. 

14. Soldier and Drill Sergeant

This is a clear Dom/sub role play where the sergeant barks orders and the sub — I mean, the soldier — obeys. When sergeant tells you to drop down and lick his boots, you better drop down and lick his boots, private. Atten-shun! 

15. Ransom Victim and Kidnapper

Ransom/kidnap scenes typically involve a lot of bondage and duct tape. The full parameters of the play should be discussed before starting. Some guys might think the idea of being kidnapped and tied up is hot, but after three hours in a closet with duct tape over your mouth, you might feel differently. In the pre-play negotiation talks, you should set clear limits and boundaries. This role play is one that can be taken to extreme lengths — some guys love getting abducted from a public place and thrown in the back of a car — so you should only play with someone you know and trust (not a stranger or someone you met online). 

16. Daddy and Son

Many tops like being called “daddy” in the throes of sex, but daddy/son role play scenarios go a bit further. There is a lot of written and video daddy/son porn online, so explore the internet for ideas, because the scenarios are endless: Daddy sneaks into his son’s room at night while mommy is sleeping. Son comes home from college one day and catches his dad in the shower and decides to join. Son sneaks into his dad’s room one night to see his dad jerking off. Son forgets to clean his room and daddy decides it’s time for a spanking. Daddy and son are washing daddy’s car and they both get soaked and have to strip off their wet clothes. The fantasies are unlimited! 

17. Merman and Fisherman

Don’t lie, you’ve fantasized about walking down the beach and coming across a poor mer-boy washed ashore who needs help getting back out to sea. He will do whatever it takes. You might need to carry him. But first…. 

Aretwork courtesy of Fred Lammers. See more of his work here.

18. Baby and Parent

Baby role play commonly overlaps with diaper fetish and sometimes scat (feces) fetish. An adult baby will crawl around, cry, and eventually need someone to change his diaper.

19. Intern and CEO

For all its wincing misrepresentation of BDSM relationships, Fifty Shades of Grey touched upon a longstanding role play with a clear Dom/sub dynamic — low-level intern and executive CEO. Business tycoon and office boy. “Cancel my 3:30 meeting and crawl under my desk, boy.” 

20. Porn Star and Director

This one works great if you and your boyfriend like to film yourselves having sex. Strip for the camera as he directs you. He may eventually decide that this shoot really needs a second man, at which point he’ll begrudgingly have to step in as an actor/director. This role play obviously lends itself to groups, especially if you like to watch and direct others and be in control. 

21. Santa and Naughty Child

Christmas role play! When Santa finds out how bad you’ve been this year, he’ll have something more than coal to fill your stocking with. While a santa hat and some black leather boots should get you started, a hefty amount of playfulness and creativity is all you need to get on the naughty list this year. 

22. Cousins

This is like “brothers” role play, but considerably easier to accomplish if you do not, in fact, look anything like your boyfriend. Some guys are wigged out by immediate-family incest scenarios, but cousins? No problem. It’s perfectly acceptable to disappear off to the basement or woods during family reunions for some quality time, right?

23. Batman and Robin

The dynamic duo has been the source of superhero role play for much of the caped crusader’s long career. Their whole setup is kind of obvious, and pretty gay in itself: a wealthy older bachelor takes in a poor young house boy just to fight crime (in spandex and black rubber) every night? Please. 

See more of Philip Bonneau’s great photography here.

 

24. Batman and Superman

This power couple has inspired a plethora of gay fantasies (who’s the top? who’s the bottom?) and if you’re into cosplay, this role play is an easy one to get into. Unsurprisingly, a gay porn parody of the recent Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice movie just hit shelves.

25. Uncle and Nephew

There’s a lot of gay porn modeled after the proverbial “gay uncle” that comes by the house and messes around with his in-the-closet teenage nephew. As you can see, anyone into incest fantasies has unlimited role play options to choose from.

26. Married Couple

This is only role play if you are not, in fact, married. Everything under the sun — including the sun — can be fetishized and inspire eroticism, especially a married couple (as opposed to boyfriends or simply two gay men who play together). This milder role play involves acting like a married couple before or after sex. If you’re non-monogamous, go out and introduce each other as your husbands the next time you’re in a new city, and interested guys will flock to you. Many guys, myself included, love being the third (or forth, or fifth) for a married couple.

27. Pirate and Cabin Boy

All hands on deck! This more imaginative role play goes great with costumes and props. What submissive guy has never fantasized about being the lowly cabin boy on a ship full of rough and restless pirates? The group scenarios are very sexy, and the role play necessitates a lot of rope and a gag — opt for a torn strip of cotton cloth instead of a ball gag. 

28. Teacher and Student

The handsome, bespectacled professor needs you to stay after class. You’ve been misbehaving and it’s time for a lesson in manners. If you want to paddle your student’s bum over a wooden desk, do not use an actual yardstick, because they break easily. Invest in a good wooden or rubber paddle designed for the job. 

29. Firefighter and Rescue Victim

You do not need to light your house on fire to enjoy this role play. It will simply require some creativity, and perhaps a firefighter’s costume, which you should be able to find at your nearest costume store.

30. Policeman and Criminal

“Officer, please don’t give me a speeding ticket. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

This old-school role play scenario is not complete without a good set of handcuffs and a black police baton — or, even better, a baton dildo. Thanks to Tom of Finland’s Kake Comics, homoerotic group police scenarios will always be part of the gay canon. 

31. Warden and Inmate

There is a lot of “prison” and “psych ward” porn on the Internet that typically involves groups, handcuffs, straight jackets, cages, and intense BDSM and ass torture (one particularly intense enema porn scene comes to mind). These should give you some inspiration when it’s time to teach your unruly prisoner a lesson. 

32. Hitchhiker and Motorcyclist

This is another Tom of Finland inspiration — one that old-guard leather enthusiasts will be familiar with. Grab a pair of daisy dukes and stick your thumb out on the side of the road — your leather-clad biker boy will surely come along and take you for a ride. 

33. Priest and Sinner

The darkly kinky undertones of penitence and adulation, glory through suffering, and asking for forgiveness on one’s knees has created an massive fetish sub-genre in which religious iconography is integrated beautifully into sex play. This darker role play can get very raunchy with a priest’s robe, a rosary, robe, anal beads, a good leather flogger, a gag, and an unbridled imagination — crown of thorns not required. 

34. Rape Fantasy

Many forms of role play involve overpowering someone or being overpowered, but as soon as you add the word “rape” to any label, it pushes the descriptor into uncomfortable territory, and in the case of “rape fantasy,” intentionally so. “Rape” is a socially and politically charged word that automatically evokes something ugly and violent — as it should. While the kinky community has always embraced pushing the sexual envelope, we draw the line at consent. We stand by three tenets: play must be Safe, Sane, and Consensual.  

That last tenet, “Consensual,” is one that does the most work combating the still-heavy stigma and misunderstandings that people seem to have for kink — namely that it is a culturally condoned form of abuse and rape. While this misconception is not true, at least for not the international majority of kinky men and women, it is simply a fact that many people fantasize about non-consent scenarios. Talking about them and addressing them goes into murky territory. If you engage in “rape fantasy” role play, it must be role play — that is, it must be consensual, a carried-out fantasy, a sexual pretend game. While you and your boyfriend can pretend that your play is non-consensual, and use bondage gear and other kink supplies to enhance that idea, you should also use safe words and establish and respect limits to make sure that what your are doing is safe and healthy.

35. Interrogator and Prisoner

Interrogation typically involves some degree of bondage and BDSM. We’ve all seen hot interrogation scenes in action movies, where the hero is tied in some kind of predicament while the bad guy and his thugs question him. He always escapes at the last minute, but while he’s tied to the chair, guys into interrogation scenes are intensely aroused. This role play may seem more like a performance than a sex play, it can also get pretty intense. Some questions can strike a painful and emotional chord in someone, especially if they are hooded and blindfolded. You should discuss beforehand emotional limits as well as physical ones: What “no-tread” topics can the top/interrogator not ask?

36. Home Invasion

You’ve see it in porn: the handsome thief in a black ski mask breaks in and sees the muscular home owner sleeping in bed (with an all-too-obvious erection beneath the sheets) and decides to take what he wants. Sometimes this scenario gets flipped on its head — the home owner knows Jiu-Jitsu or something and handcuffs the thief to the bed: “You’re going to pay for this, punk.”

While it certainly nudges closer to “rape fantasy,” some guys into home invasion are not aroused by the sex aspect of it. Some guys get off on being held up or mugged, and their fantasy may simply involve someone entering their home and stealing their money. 

37. Airport Security

If you’ve ever had a fantasy of traveling to Berlin and being stopped by the German airport personnel, strip searched by seven muscular men in uniform in a sterile backroom, and rectally examined on a cold chrome table, you might be into role play scenarios involving airport security. 

38. Fantasy Characters

The idea of being fucked by a minotaur is in the upper echelon of my hottest fantasies (their pantheon includes getting fucked by an faun, getting fucked by Rocco Steele, and being stranded on a desert island with all the guys from high school and seeing who makes me his bitch first). Fantasy and its counterparts — anime, comics, video games, mythology — are playgrounds of hot role play. Carried out, they might seem pretty elaborate and require some dedication, and probably some makeup and prosthetics, but what better weekend pastime could you have? Imagine the refusal texts: “Sorry guys, Danny and I can’t come downtown tonight, he wants to role play as a satyr so I’m dressing up as an orc and fucking the shit out of him.” 

Orcs, by the way, are so hot. 

39. Daddy-Home-Early and Yard Boy

This is one of the oldest in the book. Bill comes home from work, loosens his power tie, drops his briefcase by the door, and sees the new yard boy his wife just hired through the kitchen window — young, shirtless, and bent over transplanting sod. Bill gets stirrings he never felt before, and before long he’s stroking his enormous penis in the window when the young man turns and sees him. The two have an uncomfortable five-second staring contest, then Bill calls him in — perhaps for a glass of lemonade — and the young man struts and sweats across the yard and closes the screen door behind him. 

And that, gentlemen, is how gay porn was made.

[an-angels-blessing]

Performance of Our Lives

Song🐣🎵- Sit Still Look Pretty,

Artist🤸‍♂️🎤- Barrett Wilbert Weed, Grey Henson

Warnings😳⛔- Fluff, Embarrassed Kageyama

Prompt🥺🔥- N/A

“There will be a five minute intermission between performances.” After hearing that announcement, I continued pacing faster as the nervousness grew. I suddenly felt a hand on my own stopping me from moving. “Come on, you’re going to be great, especially when you look like that. There is no way he won’t be looking at you.” The smaller one wore the biggest smile. It seemed to instantly calm my nerves, I was hot and I knew that I was. A smile started to form on my face and the nervousness casually disappeared. “You wanna talk about me, look at you Shoyo. If only you were straight.” We both sit there for a moment, taking in my previous words before we both bust into a fit of laughter. “I love you Angel.” I heard him say while calming down, his face was now serious, and I knew exactly why. “I love you too Shoyo, now let's show him what it means to be a queen.” He pulls me in for a long hug, one that we both definitely needed. “Okay, today we have the amazing opportunity to introduce, straight out of Mijagi, Angel Ace.”

As soon as I hear that, I let go of Shoyo and walk out on stage, as soon as I do the crowd erupts into cheers making me smile. I grab the microphone from the DJ, looking out to the crowd to see 200 people easily, but of those 200, I spot the Karasuno volleyball team almost instantly. “Hi everyone, I know I just got off tour to focus on school, but you can’t forget where you came from right?” I point the mic towards the crowd to hear dozens of people screaming ‘yes.’ I giggle slightly before holding the microphone back to my lips. “So, I wrote two new songs. And you all are going to be the first to hear it, is that okay with you?” Yet again came dozens of responses from the crowd. “First, can everyone do something for me? I invited a few of my friends, can you all clear a path for them to be in the front?” I point at the team and the spotlight is instantly placed on them. The crowd parted like the red sea, giving them a direct path to the stage. Kageyama was the first to move, with a smug look on his face, if only he knew. The rest of the team followed, and before too long they were directly below me. I bend down slightly to talk to them, Suga was the first to talk. “Do you see Hinata, he said he was here.” I could hear the concern in his voice, it made me laugh internally but I had to play it off. “The tiny one with orange hair? I think he went to the bathroom.” Suga nods his head in satisfaction and I stand back up preparing to start. “This song goes out to my lovely boyfriend.” I send Kageyama a smile and motion for the DJ to start the track.

“Could dress up, to get love, but guess what? I'm never gonna be that girl who's living in a Barbie world. Could wake up, in make up, and play dumb, pretending that I need a boy, who's gonna treat me like a toy” As I start singing I could see the confusing in Tobio’s face start to sink in, “I know the other girls wanna wear expensive things, like diamond rings. But I don't wanna be the puppet that you're playing on a string.” I take off my promise ring that he got for our 2 year anniversary and throw it at him, the rest of the team look at him confused and dazed at my action. I haven’t taken that ring off since he bought it for me, not even when I was overseas on tour.

“This queen don't need a king” I can slightly hear Kei snicker and whisper to Tobio about my use of the word king. “Oh, I don't know what you've been told, but this girl right here's gonna rule the world. Yeah, that's where I'm gonna be because I wanna be. No, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty” I pick up a crown from off the stage and lean down to place it on Tobio’s head before tilting it to make it crooked. “You get off on your 9 to 5, dream of picket fences and trophy wives. But no, I'm never gonna be 'cause I don't wanna be. No, I don't wanna sit still look pretty” I back up and walk towards the curtain, I grab Shoyo’s hand and pull him on stage, he looks at me with confusion. “This wasn’t part of the plan.” I smirk at him as I hear gasps from the crowd, but mostly from the team. “Yes it was, now sing. I know you know the lyrics.” I smirk at him before motioning towards the team and handing him the mic, he seems to stop on Tobio before gaining some confidence and singing. “Mr. Right could be nice, for one night, but then he wanna take control. And I would rather fly solo” He starts off pretty shaky, but when we lock eyes he starts to get the feel of the music.

I start clapping and dancing to the music, the crowd seems to get my flow and follows along with me. The looks on the team’s faces makes me laugh, Shoyo suddenly grabs my hand and dances with me, both of our skirts flying up and down. “That Snow White, she did it right in her life. Had 7 men to do the chores 'cause that's not what a lady's for.” The music starts getting louder and we both start getting a music high, forgetting that anyone was even there. “The only thing that a boy's gonna give a girl for free's captivity. And I might love me some vanilla but I'm not that sugar sweet. Call me HBIC” When he finished that line, the whole crowd went wild, we both shared a mutual glance and decided to finish the song together.

When we finished the song, the whole crowd was yelling and shouting my name. When the music finally stopped all the lights went off and the two of us went behind the curtain. I could hear the groans and complaints from behind the curtain, one of the tech crew took the microphone and put a headset microphone on me and Shoyo. “You thought that was it?” The crowd heard my voice and started going crazy. I started changing with Shoyo into my other outfit, but the crowd shouldn’t be left alone. I learned that after 6 years of touring and entertaining, the crowd should never be bored. “I have one more thing to do, well actually two.” Shoyo and I are almost finished getting dressed, so let’s introduce the next song. “Ok. girls, gay’s, they’s and overall Queens. We don’t need a king to be happy.” We finally are done getting dressed and we are right in front of the curtain. “But, love is a beautiful thing, so if you find the one, hold them close. We don’t need a king, but it never hurts to have one.” I grab Shoyo’s hand and walk out onto the stage. As soon as the crowd sees us, they start screaming thinking that we are dating or something.

I could see the smug look on Tobio’s face when he sees the crown I’m wearing, and of course they match. That was the plan, I pull Shoyo towards me as we take center stage. “This, my adoring fans, is Hinata Shoyo. My best friend, he is a queen yet I can not call him mine because he sadly belongs to someone else.” I fake sadness, turning my head away from him. I can feel him laughing because I’m still holding his hand, this causes me to laugh as well. When I turn back to the crowd I see that Tobio’s smug look is now full of horror. I let go of Shoyo and move towards the front of the stage, I put my hand out to Tobio, he hesitantly takes my hand and I pull him up on stage. I manage to force him to stand center stage between Shoyo and me. “And this is our ex-boyfriend. Kageyama Tobio. Cute, isn’t he?” They seem to be able to sense the sarcasm in my voice and stayed silent. Shoyo speaks next, continuing my little monologue. “By ex, she means that he dated us at the same time, and it almost worked.” Everything goes silent, as they don’t know where we’re going with this. “Yet, what he didn’t know is that we… are twins.” At that very moment, nothing could be heard except screams and gasps. “We don’t look the same, because of course we’re fraternal. And she dyes her hair.” Both of our smiles widen and we turn towards Tobio. “This final song ISN'T dedicated to you, but two very special people in this room.” Shoyo looks at me when I speak first, yet I maintain my innocent smile. “I will be taking this, thank you for holding it Tobio-chan~” His nickname comes out mockingly as I take the crown off of his head. I walk over to Shoyo and take the crown off his head as well before placing a tiara on top, “Perfect, now where are our Prince Charmings.” When I finish my sentence, the music starts playing on que.

“Boys seem to like th  e girls who laugh at anything. The ones who get undressed before the second date” I start singing and push Tobio towards the front of the stage but not far enough so he would fall. He quickly gets the hint and gets off the stage and joining the others. “Girls seem to like the boys who don't appreciate, all the money and the time that it takes.” I hear Shoto start singing and I turn around to look him in the face, smiling at his confidence. “To be fly as a mother. Got my both eyes out for Mr. Right. Guessing now I just don't know where to find them. But I hope they all come out tonight” He sees me looking at him and shrugs his shoulders, but as soon as he finishes that last line he smiles wide. “Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away? I'm a good, good girl who needs a little company. Looking high and low, someone let me know. Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away?” We decided to sing this part together, he ran up to me and jumped on my back causing me to laugh. We might be twins, but he’s still shorter than me. “Boys seem to like the girls who like to kiss and tell” I put him down and kiss his cheek when he sings this part. “Talking them up about things that do so well” I sing the next part, taking his hand and spinning him. “I'd rather find a boy who is down for the chase. Putting in the time that it takes to be fly as a mother.” I stop him in front of the stage and wink towards his obvious crush, he won’t admit it but the blush on his face says enough. “To supply all of my heart's demands. Suit and tie 'cause undercover, he's gonna save my life like superman” I walk behind Shoyo while he sings this part, I place my hands on his shoulders and point him in the direction of the team. “Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away? I'm a good, good girl who needs a little company. Looking high and low, someone let me know. Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away?” I smirk at Shoto as we both sing this together, he raises an eyebrow at me.

I walk over to the end of the stage and reach my hand out once again, but not to Tobio, to Kei. “Tell me where the good boys go. Tell me where the good boys go. Tell me where the good boys go” Shoyo starts singing nervously, but still good nonetheless, Kei takes my hand and I pull him up on stage with us. I start clapping along to the beat and the crowd follows me before I cover my mic and whisper to him, “Go to your princess.” He widens his eyes at me, but I simply motion to Shoyo before smirking at him. “Will somebody tell me, tell me” I hear Shoyo finish the line and I push Kei over to him, I could lightly hear Kei say, “I’m right here.” A light smile appears on my face, but I quickly regain my focus on the crowd. “Tell me where the good boys go. Tell me where the good boys go. Tell me where the good boys go. Tell me where the good boys go” I continue clapping, but I can hear light “oos” from the crowd. I turn around to see Shoyo and Kei kissing. I walk over to them, still singing, and place a crown on Kei’s head. “Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away. I'm a good, good girl who needs a little company. Looking high and low, someone let me know” Shoyo surprises me and starts singing, I chuckle slightly and sing with him. He catches my attention and motions towards the group, my eyes widen and he smirks at me. “Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away. Hide away, hide away. Hide away, hide away” I give in and walk towards the end of the stage, touching a few fans' hands as I pass by. Instead of pulling someone up, I jump off the stage into our group of friends. “Looking high and low, someone let me know” I look back up at Shoyo and Kei and he nods at me, I let out a deep sigh and get ready to sing the next line. I grab Asahi’s head and place my lips on his, I can feel him tense for a moment before relaxing. He kisses me back, grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him.

When we finally break for air he places his forehead on mine. “Where do the good boys go to hide away, hide away” My voice fades out as I look him in the eyes, then the whole club goes dark as he turns the lights off. While in this darkness, I manage to place the crown in my hand on his head before kissing him again. This one full of passion and longing, I pull away and grab his hand and pull him on stage with me. The lights turn back on as we walk towards Shoyo and Kei, all I can hear are screams and cheers from the crowd but I let go of Asahi, completely ignoring the crowd at the moment. I grab Shoyo and we hug each other, this one I’ve waited 3 years to do. “If he hurts you, I will kill him. I don’t care that he’s my best friend.” I can feel him chuckle slightly as he hugs me harder as soon as I finish talking. “I could say the same. But it’s Asahi-senpai.” As soon as those words leave his mouth I almost break down into tears but we have a show to finish. We both pull away but grab each other’s hand and walk center stage and take a bow. “Sorry babes, but this is the end of the show.” I hear dozens of groans and ‘no’ come from the crowd, which only makes me smile. “We both have school on Monday, but she has a LOT to catch up on.” Shoyo continues my sentence and pulls me in for a side hug, “But remember, it is never too late to find your king,” “Or queen.” Shoyo finishes my sentence as we both turn around and grab Asahi’s and Kei’s hand. “If you ever want to see us,” Shoyo starts motioning for me to finish. “Look for this dynamic duo playing volleyball at Karasuno,” I wink at the crowd once more before we all turn around to face the curtain. “This was fun, but we have to go. Bye” We say together as we walk off the stage and the club goes dark once again.

Masterlist

[nullset2]

Mother 3 - An In-depth Critique and Review

Ah, Mother 3, how I love you so!

The game which with which I forwent all possible aspirations to healthily integate into normal High School society: imagine walking into a party, people are drinking and being cool, and you ask them if they have ever played a very underground, very deep RPG only released in Japan called "Mother".

Yeah! I know! It's like you're asking to be bullied, and I realized it too late.

But anyway!

Mother 3 is one of the most important games you could ever play --alas, if only it wasn't near impossible to obtain it.

Yet, perhaps this adds to its allure and to the power of its narrative --a narrative which, by the way, I'm convinced is the very actual reason why it will never release formally in the United States.

As time has passed, I've actually become more and more impressed about how relevant the game is to the socioeconomic reality that we are in nowadays. I'm impressed that Shigesato Itoi had all of this in his mind's eye as early as 1996, and that the story was already written down in 1999!

Right now it's been 14 years since it's release on the GBA, but I think that the game is a timeless classic and warrants a playthrough now more than ever. Wanna know why?

Wanna find out?

Part 1. "A Japanese Copywriter's Americana"

The year is 1989 and a Japanese Copywriter --somebody who writes "Catch Copies", which are a sort of a long-form slogan that is very common in Japanese pop culture to advertise)-- by the name of Shigesato Itoi became a fan of the Dragon Quest series of RPGs, which are massively popular in Japan, even to this day. He also loved video games: he's asthmatic, so he recalls only being able to sleep sitting up as a child, and having to occupy his lonely time through asthma attacks playing video games, since he had to sit up and had nothing else to do at night.

His love of RPGs would linger in his mind until 1989 when he had an opportunity to meet with Hiroshi Yamauchi and Shigeru Miyamoto and was offered the opportunity to develop a video game with Nintendo. Harkening back to the endless hours he poured into Dragon Quest, his concept eventually took form by deriving from it. He called the story "MOTHER", as a reference to John Lennon's "Mother", since he is a very hardcore fan of The Beatles. The games have tons of obvious influence by old American films and comics, like ET and Peanuts, which he also loved very much.

For MOTHER, he wanted to explicitly go against the grain, by designing an RPG without "Swords and Magic", which stereotypically most RPGs follow, even from things as minor as to design a protagonist who was weak and vulnerable, asthmatic and without a Father Figure, yet, still heroic through much toil --which reflects Ninten from the original MOTHER for the famicom.

Miyamoto, in his usual taskmaster persona, arranged a team to work with Itoi for the creation of the RPG, by bringing in people from HAL laboratory and APE Inc, and thus MOTHER was born to great Japanese Acclaim. A game which took many risks in its genre, such as eschewing the idea of a separate overworld from navigation in the towns, the subject matter, the movement system and many other things which made it quite Unique. It was so popular that soon after the first project was released, MOTHER 2 started development, involving people from what's currently known as Game Freak and HAL Labs.

MOTHER 2 is a very unique game because it was the very first time that the series attempted to make an incursion in the Americas. Releasing in a big flamboyant flashy box, with a strategy guide and a bunch of goodies included, MOTHER 2 released as Earthbound in the states, a bigger and better version of the vision of the first game. Better graphics, Beatles references, sampled audio, pop culture cornucopia, it's all here and then some!

Famous for its role in technically driving the game, Satoru Iwata, ex-CEO and software developer for Nintendo,7 of Wii acclaim, helped the game meet its 1996 release date. It is known that the original version of the game ran into deep technical issues which the original dev team was not able to overcome. Once Satoru Iwata got involved, the game was reworked to a viable version and released to much critical acclaim. In his own words, he proposed to rewrite the tech that powered the main game. It was a matter of either continuing with the current code and be done in two years, or redoing everything and being done in six months under his vision, he said.

No matter its strong promotion from Nintendo, the marketing got botched, and the game paled compared to the flashy and bombastic magical RPGs of its era, like Final Fantasy VI, Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger of all things. So, Earthbound faced a very bad destiny in the states, by releasing to low acclaim, bad review scores and terrible sales numbers --even though it eventually reached Cult Classic status, due to its pure hearted nature, its hallucinogenic themes and characters, and its fantastic spirit over all.

And this game is worthy of discussion by itself a whole bunch because of the ripple effects it had in video game culture in the Western world. Enter starmen dot net. To this date, the epicenter of discussion for everything related to the MOTHER series. There you had me as early as 2002, browsing a half-rendered version of starmen dot net in a dingy computer in some dingy internet cafe in some shitty neighborhood in Mexico, trying to be a part of the discussion and the hype.

To this date, I consider starmen dot net as the non-plus-ultra case for how passionate Internet fan cultures can become.

Flat out, no other fandom has ever came close to the level of dedication, attention to detail and passion to tribute the original creation around which its fans congregate. A massive amount of fan paraphernalia has come out of starmen dot net --yes, even Undertale, 2015 indie darling RPG thing, originally got started on the Starmen dot net forums. People married and even started large, commercially viable enterprises, such as Fangamer.net, the firm which publishes Undertale, from starmen dot net.

...and then... silence...

After Earthbound's 1995 release, we enter a ten year hiatus for the series.

Even though both MOTHER games were incredibly popular in Japan, HAL Laboratory and APE Inc. weren't able to successfully make a jump onto the third dimension for the series come the Nintendo 64 era. They had a demo come the infamous Spaceworld 96, where a bunch of pre-release games for the then called "Ultra 64", which was the codename for the Nintendo 64, were showcased. And lo and behold, we have a sequel to Mother coming out, called Mother 3, the ROM for which has never been found by the way.

I'd love to get a look at the materials in that ROM.

The scarce footage we have available from it exhibits some of the elements we ended up seeing in the final released version of the game, like some of the original music like the Mozart ghost theme, and the DCMC section, albeit in a more primitive low poly way. It is known that both studios weren't very proficient at 3d Game development yet, which was still nascent. This together with other factors, such as the fact that at some point development was moved onto the unreleased-in-America, unpopular 64DD addon, undisclosed factors dropped the game into development hell, which ultimately led to its cancellation in the year 2000.

Plenty of mystery surrounded the now defunct project, to the dismay of a bunch of passionate fans in Starmen.net and elsewhere online. However, it turned out that the valiant effort of the fans, who made a huge amount of effort to campaign for the revival of the series, even mailing fanmail, fanart and other materials to the Itoi Shinbun offices in Japan (a titanical task in the world of the early 2000s).

Fast forward to 2003, and the Game Boy Advance, the little portable console that could, was in its Apex. Due to Satoru Iwata's campaining, it was announced that development on MOTHER 3 would be restarted, this time in 2D, for the gameboy advance. Much anticipation in Starmen.net followed this announcement, since it finally validated its efforts...

Come 2006, once the console was well into its end-of-life, with small nudges to play the game on a Gameboy player if possible, perhaps to try to follow suit with its predecessors, the sequel finally released to much acclaim. But what did Shigesato Itoi have in store for everyone all along? What kind of beast had just been unleashed onto the World?

Part 2. "Of Monkeys and Men"

Mother 3 follows the story of a young boy, Lucas, in a multi-chapter structure, which is novel for the series but not unheard of in the RPG genre. Besides this, the RPG plays very similar to your usual JRPG fare, and basically uses the Ultimately polished version of the MOTHER series' mechanics, groovy backgrounds and all.

The first three chapters of the game follow the perspective of different characters residing in Tazmilly Village as the plot of the game unfolds. The plot is centered around the residents of a peaceful town in an Island in an unspecified location, Nowhere Islands, which in my opinion is an allegory both of Japan and America, moreover with the fact that the game of the logo very clearly has a rising sun covered in metal, in a logo that's an amalgam of two different things which don't match, a subtle reference to the game's undertones to come.

From these residents we come to know the daily lives of a particular family: Flint, a farmer; Hinawa, his wife (a name in reference to Sunflowers, Himawari, her favorite flower), and their twin children, Lucas and Claus.

The game begins in the midst of their idyllic life in the mountains visiting Lucas' grandfather Alec, and playing around with meek dinosaurs which inhabit Nowhere Islands. See, in the world of Mother 3, no violence truly exists, and people have come to live peacefully with each other and nature. There's no such thing as the concept of money, Instead relying on an economy that's mostly based around bartering and hospitality.

However, everyone's lives veer into turmoil once strange alien beings invade, the Pigmask army, an army of big, fat and slovenly creatures dressed in pig-like attire, who seem to have a vast amount of technology and resources at their disposal yet aim for Nowhere Islands for colonization.

The Pigmasks have an as-of-yet unnamed leader, who is demanding them to make everything in the World "bigger, cooler, stronger and faster", and thus they seize Nowhere Islands by force of bombings and a forest fire to use its flora and fauna. And thus, while escaping from the forest fires returning from Alec's home, Hinawa tragically gets killed by a Drago which has been modified to be aggressive against its nature through robotics implanted in it by the Pigmask army.

There's an unused cutscene in the game's ROM data where Hinawa, instead, dies by bomb explosion...

...yeah, I'm just... gonna let you process that one by yourself ;)

The Drago left a fang in the middle of her heart, which is recovered by one of the Tazmillians and provided back to Flint along with a fragment of her crimson dress. Besmirched and angry, Claus, the festier one of the twin children, sets out to try to hunt the drago and achieve revenge, but he goes missing... Flint embarks in search of Claus and to kill the drago, and thus the first chapter of the game concludes, with the implication that Claus has gone missing...

With Lucas' family torn to shreds and The Pigmasks invading Tazmilly, it seems that we're in a situation ripe for disaster.

Chapter 2 follows Duster's adventure, which runs in parallel (as every other chapter will) to other chapters' stories. Duster is the last heir in a bloodline of Cat Burglars whose abilities are not in use anymore given that Tazmilly has no more commerce or crime. However it turns out that the Pigmask invasion puts his skills back in demand to infiltrate Oshoe Castle and retrieve an artifact which the Pigmasks are after and which Duster's family is the guardian of. The nature of the artifact in Oshoe Castle is as of yet unknown, however it is implied that it is important to the fabric of Tazmilly village.

At Castle Oshoe, Duster meets a mysterious princess, Kuma-tora (which translates literally to "beartiger", in allusion to the dichotomy of her existence, since she is very... masculine in attitude and refers to herself with, yes, male pronouns, perhaps anticipating identity politics by 14 years at least), who is also after the artifact in the Castle, the Hummingbird egg. The chapter ends with the Hummingbird Egg going missing, and a mysterious peddler of goods arriving into town, while Kumatora and Duster's father realize he has gone missing...

Chapter 3 follows the adventure of a little Monkey, Salsa, which gets flown into Nowhere Islands to perform a job. This is a novelty in a town where the concept of a job doesn't exist as of yet, however, the peddler of goods is going to need a lot of hands if he wants to fullfill his vision. The peddler, Fassad (which is a tongue in cheek way to say "facade", right?) promises to all residents in Nowhere Island eternal happiness if they buy his newest product, the "Happy Box", a television-like contraption which glows with a warm light and which people are attracted to and engrossed by. For this, he introduces the concept of money and swindles people his way, convincing them that this is the way to go and promising them excitement and benefit if they listen to him.

Salsa delivers Happy boxes throughout the whole chapter, and gets shocked, even in the middle of the night, if something goes wrong with his job or tries to escape due to a shock collar implanted by Fassad. However, he runs into Kumatora and Wess, Duster's father, and they ploy together to free up Salsa and mess up Fassad's forceful takeover of Oshoe Castle, when Lucas shows up with several dragos in tow and fights against the Tank invasion of Oshoe Castle.

(A foreign animal being introduced into a new society with the express intent of exploiting it to propel forward a commercial enterprise by toil... geez, I dunno, where have I heard that one?)

From Chapter 4 Onwards the game adopts a more conventional JRPG scheme, through a timeskip which happens literally two years in the future. In this future version of Tazmilly, money (Dragon Points) and ATMs are now existent, similar to other Mother games. The game follows Lucas' adventure through a now-modernized and industrialized technologically advanced Tazmilly, trying to retrieve the "seven needles" from the island, which are soon enough shown to be a source of great power that the pigmask army is also after and to which Lucas must try to get to first due to a calling by mysterious beings which inhabit Nowhere Islands, the Magypsies. With a lot of emotional moments, such as Lucas having visions of his Mother in the middle of a field of Sunflowers, we follow the adventures of the party as they infiltrate the pigmask ranks and gather information about its nature and intentions.

It is then discovered that the pigmasks are commanded by a Masked leader, who dominates the power of thunder through a tower which was built in the middle of the town and which strikes anybody down with thunder if they overstep the Law and Order that the pigmasks have implemented. The party fights this masked leader in bouts while exploring the world and reuniting with a now missing Kumatora and Duster, who are found to have settled as employees in a Nightclub called "Club Titiboo".

Eventually, through his travels, Lucas gains an artifact from Mr. Saturn, the inhabitants of a special region in Nowhere called Saturn Valley and which has been passed down through all three Mother games, called the "Franklin Badge". When equipped, this item allows the bearer to become immune to lighting attacks and reflecting them back.

The party soon discovers that the world is inhabited by an special elder race, existant from before the creation of Tazmilly village and who know more about everything going on with the invasion, called the "Magypsies", a race of transexual, magical creatures who help Lucas discover the fact that he has Psychic abilities, also known as "PSI" within the MOTHER canon. He uses these to proceed further in his adventure to pull the seven Golden Needles, the first of which Fassad was attempting to get to, in the Courtyard of Oshoe Castle.

Lucas moves into a city called "New Pork City" in the conclusion of the game, which is a town built by the pigmasks completely in the honor of Porky, full of all sorts of Pigmask paraphernalia and amusement. It is found that the seventh and final needle is inside humongous tower in the middle of the city, the Porky tower.

Moreover, it is also revealed that the Pigmask army is led by Porky, known as "Pokey" in the American localization of Mother 2, Earthbound. Pokey is shown to have developed into a tyrant as an adult, with unlimited lust for blood and power, who used Doctor Andonuts' Phase Distorter after the events of Earthbound to mess around with the unlimited realities and dimensions it gave him access too, as a petulant child does with a video game. Once he got kicked out of every other possible reality due to the chaos he created, he found the Nowhere islands and decided to mess with it.

The climax of the game comes around Chapter 7, when the now fully-developed party runs into Leder, one of the original Tazmillian villagers, a lanky and really tall person who never spoke, not a single word, in the game until now. Leder is revealed to be the only person who knows what is the true nature of it all: tazmilly village is the remanider of civilization once the world of Mother 2 collapsed by cataclysm. A flood wiped away everything and the very last remainder of people who survived fled to nowhere islands in a big white ship and settled there, willingly forfeiting all technological advances and knowledge of the world into the Hummingbird egg, the artifact that Duster's family protected in Oshoe, a device which wiped everyone's memories, with the intent of undoing civilization and living back in a peaceful village-like state again.

It is revealed that when all seven needles are pulled, a supernatural power on which the island is built will be awakened. This supernatural power is revealed to be a Dragon by Leder, who had to be subdued by the ancestors of the Magypsies so people could live in Nowhere islands as their last resort. Whoever pulls out the needles which keep it in slumber will pass the intentions and nature of their heart onto the dragon. Thus, Lucas must be the one who pulls out the last needle instead of Porky or the masked man, in hopes that a second cataclysm like the first doesn't happen again.

After making their way through all the pigmask defenses, Lucas and Co. face off with Porky, who is now a bedridden, pathetic man. Doctor Andonuts from Mother 2, appears here, and is revealed to have developed a solution to contain Porky, the Absolutely Safe Capsule, which is a capsule which once it's sealed, it can never be opened again, trapping whoever is inside forever in a parallel universe where only them exist. The party is successful in locking Porky in the absolutely safe capsule, so, porky is not hurt by the end of mother 3, instead, he just has been locked away forever in a place far away from everyone else --perhaps, providing the ultimate form of comfort that a personality like his would seek after.

At the end of the game, Lucas and Co. face against the masked man, who is revealed to have been Claus all along, who, brainwashed with Pigmask ideologies, is hellbent on drawing out the final needle to awaken the dragon. Lucas and Claus face off in an emotive fight, where they suddenly remember each other and how friendly they used to be with each other... and moreover, their Mother. Claus strikes Lucas with thunder in a final murderous attempt before snapping out of the Pigmask brainwashing. But since he had the Franklin badge on, the attack is reflected and mortally strikes Claus, who, in his final moments, finally remembers Lucas...

The ending of the game is open ended, without showing much of what happened once the seventh dragon needle was released, so the ending of the game is subject to interpretation. However, it is heavily implied that, since Lucas was the one who released the needle, the dragon, once awakened, did not destroy Nowhere islands and instead led to a regeneration of existence.

Part 3. "A Musical-Adventure"

One of the pre-release materials for the game called it a "Musical" adventure, and I think this is completely warranted: the musical beautifulness of Hip Tanaka, famed Nintendo composer and long-time MOTHER music autheur, is joined by the expertise of Shogo Sakai, who gave the soundtrack a more mature, sample-based vibe, compared to the early two more "chiptuney" soundtracks in the series. The songs are all-time favorites of mine, and I still the soundtrack every so often given all of its mystique, its eclectiness and curiosness.

But the musical aspect to the game doesn't stop here: as an addition to the mother series, the battle system has now been changed to become rhythm-game based instead of simply turn based. If the player attacks an enemy during a battle, it is possible to strike additional damage as long as the player continues to press the attack button in rhythm to the background music in upwards of 16 hits. A full combo is incredibly effective and plays a nice fanfare if executed correctly.

As an enthusiast of rhythm games, this premise captivated me from the get-go and it works wonders, functioning as a breath of fresh air to the way overplayed mechanic of turn-based combat, which has existed since the 80s. It also provides a certain nice feeling to combat, given how every character has their personal musical instrument, with lucas being a guitar, Kumatora being an electric guitar, Duster being a bass, and Boney, Lucas' pet, being... barks.

Besides this the mechanics from Mother 2 are translated almost completely: every character has a rolling HP and PP counter, which rolls down over time as an airport display instead of immediately as in other RPGs. This may seem minor, but it adds an amazing element of strategy to the game, since it is possible to recover an ally from mortal damage if a healing PSI is executed against the clock before the counter hits 0.

Besides this you got almost completely conventional standard JRPG fare, with the character being able to move in eight directions in the overworld, with the addition of a run button, preemptive attacks and overpowered kills. Once you start facing enemies in the overworld, the first one to attack can be decided depending on the angle that the enemy was approached with: sneak up on an enemy from behind and a green swirl will display, which means that you get to attack first; if an enemy sneaks behind you, you'll see a red swirl and they will attack first instead. Otherwise, a gray swirl will display, which follows conventional order according to your stats.

Part 4. "WE WANT MOTHER 3, REGGIE!"

...Mother 3 will never be released in America.

This may be too dramatic of an opinion to have but I see no other alternative. For the most of fourteen years, Nintendo of America's head honcho Reggie Fils-Aime was requested to release and distribute the game in the americas, and for twenty years the request fell on deaf ears, citing commercial inviability, potential copyright infringment and many other reasons.

But I think the main reason that the game will never be localized is because Mother 3 was a passion project, pushed for by people with personal involvement in the series and very special sensitivities about it. Shigesato Itoi and Iwata were personal friends. The game appeals to japanese tastes and touches on issues and subjects that the American population is very politically sensitive to.

For example, in chapter 6 Lucas and the party experience a bad trip because they eat hallucinogenic mushrooms in a swamp. This leads to Lucas having visions of his family in a very bad light, with implications of violence and abuse, to try to get at the players' deepest sensitivities. Even the name of the real player is used here.

I think that it's impossible that nintendo will release a game which openly involves Hallucinogenics no matter its innocent exterior. This is the kind of subject in media that Japanese audiences usually handle better than American audiences.

Besides this, the game has very clear allusions to accelerated capitalism, anti-capitalism, colonization, slavery, transexuality and the changes and chaos they have brought onto the world, which is a tough subject to tackle in the Americas, which is still part of an ongoing, vicious culture war.

Particularly, I adore how the game even tries to convey its points through the Sound Test, of all places. Mother 3 has a collection of music pieces, which are available on demand within the game itself. Of those, there's a music piece which is a remix of Pollyanna, the Mother 1 theme, which is present throughout the series, in an nod to the previous games in the series. The hallway where this plays is full with mother references and it expects the player to sit down and watch passively all the references in order.

But this is meta, amazingly enough. The hallway is located in the final section of the game, before facing Porky, who is presented as the effigy of vicious capitalism in the game. As if he left them in his palace just as collectibles, things to be purchased or acquired.

The name of the song which plays during this sequence? "His Majesty's Memories". Subtle.

Nintendo is a company which tries to keep its image clean and sterile, so it can be used broadly for a variety of projects, usually with family friendly intent behind --and even more so in the US.

However, Nintendo has a history of risky bets with Mature content, which has become even more glaring lately: you got Eternal Darkness, Astral Chain, Bayonetta, No More Heroes, the disappointing Metroid Other M... this together with the fact that most of their target audience is of age now, could, at least remotely, mean that, perhaps, Mother 3 releasing in some manner in the future, localized in English, could happen: however, this is not happening at least the way I see it.

Once the game was released, there were several different campaigns online to try to gather Nintendo's attention: a 10k signature strong petition was completed among several other things, and if this hasn't lead to results... I don't know what will.

Part 5. "No Crying Until the End"

Mother 3 is a beautiful, engrossing and captivating game which is hidden away under a cutesy exterior. Its complex themes and characters are evoking of deep human truths which call out to us and ask us to reflect on things and the way we're living. Of strong pedigree in its series and with a superb musical production behind it and a mastermind of writing, MOTHER 3 excels at what it sets out to do.

When the game released, the game had a "Catch Copy" written for it by itoi himself, which called the game "Strange, Funny and Heartrending", and I think this is a beautiful way to bring everything full circle. Itoi wrote on the Advertisement that if you wanted to cry because of Mother 3, you should save it until the end. And those three words are a fantastic way to close off this review: if you want a game that will provide you with bizarre and laugh out loud moments one second and tear-jerkers the next, Mother 3 is the game for you.

And the game is just so poignant... to this date not only do I think it's one of the most expressive and well done pixel-art based game, I still find myself impresse at how much I can connect with the characters through small, cutesy sprites and pastel color pallettes, lack of Unreal engine and RTX graphics card be damned. Themes of grief, missing a loved one who's gone, the feeling of loss of identity due to accelerating social and economical change, how tyrannical political figures establish themselves and change communities, sexual and identity politics and how the modern world was to have shaky and voraginous sexual identities become commonplace... it's all there, and masterfully, tastefully expressed, without that icky feeling of "agenda"ism that you can get sometimes from Hollywood productions when they try to hamfist tropes and "messages" down people's throats. You know that feeling? I hate it when it happens in movies or shows I'm watching just to have a good time, and then I get some succint propaganda.

But MOTHER 3 is a kind beast, trying to reach to your heart and directly speak to the mind of the player. It tries to show us what it thinks of modernity and to make us seriously ponder what the frick is up with all of this shit, and thinking it has kept me for the last 14 years, and I anticipate another 20 ahead of me. And you can join me in reflecting about this...

Or maybe you can just go back to your happy box. Whichever way you choose.