#hope you like even though i went light on the ~spring~ for the vibe i was feeling lol

[bebemoon]

"persephone returns (spring)", requested by anonymous .

jacquemus sheer mini dress in olive green, s/s 2o18

ann demeulemeester "satu" satin draped tied sleeves in burgundy

valentino garavani rosebud ankle-wrap heeled sandals

byredo "rouge chaotique" extrait de parfum

zeyzey jewelry handmade gold-plated and ruby-encrusted pomegranate earrings + wendy nichols "the triple pearl" chain drop stud earring

#'mama it's meee- proserpina' #anyway i like to imagine the underworld as a fucked-up underground goth scene and she's stumbling out- causing spring- blinking hard and #still a little tipsy on the pom liquor #she's like ascending shucking her heels and giggling the whole way #demeter's like....welcome back princess spring how was the nightmare realm and that guy you married #and she's like 'i had to fist fight a mint nymph with designs on my husband this winter. shit's been wild as usual' #and that's my explanation for this #hope you like even though i went light on the ~spring~ for the vibe i was feeling lol #outfit #request #persephone #green #burgundy #red #dress #footwear #edp #perfume #jewellry #queue

[blubushie]

I don't know if you've done this before, but I wanna know how you'd order the (canon) mercs from most to least favorite.

Oh, strewth, I haven't done this before!

Sniper, obviously. My skrunkly. I want to make him a warm meal and let him nap for awhile. I'd like to go croc spotting with him. Fishing, too. Take him out to the South Alligator and fish for barramundi. Also discuss sniper shit because it's been a few weeks and I miss it. My sheila can supervise us and make sure we don't end up biffing because when you get two headstrong, competitive blokes together that has a tendency to happen. Also because he has a foot on me and would absolutely kick my arse and probably chuck me overboard for the crocs. She's there for my protection, not his.

Scout. This poor lad has been through so much shit. He deserved a better dad, a better childhood. We could talk baseball. My dad's American (NorCal) so I grew up an SF Giants fan (also an Adelaide Giants fan). Growing up in Alice Springs I'd play baseball with the American kids from Pine Gap and when I went back to the US I played baseball there too, so I know a bit about baseball. I'm sure we could keep each other entertained. I also love music from the 50s-70s so I would sing Tom Jones songs with him.

Spy, the faguette. A cunt for leaving his son but I also understand why he did it. If we were mates I'd nick his darts. I bet he flavours them (and I have a deep affection for rum-flavoured cigarillos). Probably has a nice humidor and everything in his study. I don't even have a humidor. I don't care for wine but I'm keen on discussing liquors with him, especially any whisky and scotch. I'd nick a bottle of Macallan from him when he's not looking and he'd cut my fingers off for it later. We can invite Sniper and Demo for booze tasting. I also want to know what cologne he uses to hide the stink lines.

Medic. Absolute madcunt. He makes me wish I actually ended up going to medical school (Christ, could you imagine me as a doctor?) Upmost respect for his chaos. I want him to crack my skull open and lobotomise me while I'm working. Would let him literally rearrange my guts. He has the level of cunning and improv that I wish I had. Suave cunt that can talk his way out of any situation.

Engineer. A workaholic who never rests. A good ol' southern boy. He reminds me of my older brother. I want to discuss southern shit with him. Unhealthy fried foods, summer fairs, mustering cattle (but he'd call it wrangling). I would kill for him to grill me a steak. I'd love to talk to him about rodeos and cutting horses. I'd love to see him ride a horse. I'd love to race horses with him.

Demoman. Another workaholic who just wants to make his mum proud to the point of his own detriment. His personality reminds me of my mate Jack. Fun-loving with a cocky attitude and pride in what he does and a penchant for explosives. We could have a few beers and exchange ghost and monster stories. My dad went to sniper school in the Marines and was the top of his class but he never got to finish it because he caught malaria, almost died, and by the time he recovered he'd missed his final testing and it was time to ship out. They made him a grenadier, so he'd lugged an M79 grenade launcher through the jungle from 1968 to 1969 when he went home. He loved it. My dad would love to talk bloopers with him.

Heavy. A man who go to hell and back for his family and those he loves. It's not that I don't like him. He just scares me. He could break me in half like a twig. I'd rather swim in the South Alligator than face him on the battlefield. I would love to discuss history and literature with him, though. I hope he could translate classic Russian literature for me.

Pyro. A little maniac with a hot streak. Much like Heavy, Pyro bloody scares me. He gives me the vibes of inviting me to a tea party (which I'd accept) and then cutting off my hand when I refuse sugar. I would constantly be on edge. That said, he'd always have a light, so it can't be too bad.

Soldier. A character I wish we got to see a better side of. I'm sorry! I reckon I just see "stupid military man" too much in media and it kinda stings since 1) the military (both US and AUS) have really high standards for entry, and 2) my dad is a Marine and without doubt the smartest person I've ever met. He taught me to shoot and he was doing the windage calculations in his head. I have to write it down. I can't even do it in my head. He was only trained as a sniper for a few months and I've been doing this for 3 years and he's still better than I could ever hope to be. Yes, I'm aware Soldier wasn't actually in the military, the stigma just... stings, I suppose? For a non-canon deviation, I love what Emesis Blue did with him. Kept his personality without making him a complete dumb cunt. He felt like Soldier but still capable, a complete dumb cunt in personality but still cunning and what you'd expect of a mercenary. "What are you, blind? Come on! Right here! Take your best shot!" -My dad, probably, before he was shot in the head by a Viet Cong sniper.

#blu whos #tf2 #sniperposting

[cosettepontmercys]

Ooh it's cool that you got to see Bea at Lolla or Maisie and whoever else! If anything, concerts have gotten more expensive than they used to be for me so there have been some I had to pass on too. I have been meaning to listen to the Japanese House album for a while and will soon. I've listened to most of the artists you named and will add the rest to my list too.

Oh I didn't know the Waitress proshot had come out already. Maybe I will check it out. I remember hearing about the Roman Holiday musical but it never went to Broadway or anything so I didn't know too much about it. I just heard the Notebook musical is coming to Broadway in spring so hopefully they've improved it. Those are also such good examples of movies into musicals. I do agree about the cash grabs and like just coming out with or rushing more musicals each year or just making everything a musical just because.

I honestly didn't know what to think of it cuz I didn't even hear about it until recently. I do agree he seemed a little old for her though..I wonder how he will pull off the part. But it at least has potential with the actors since I like them. I actually didn't know there was going to be two..but I remember hearing that Florence Welch was working on the music I think? Or is that the same thing? It could be cool and kinda reminds me of the same vibes as The Wild Party. I never actually read the book..but I remember liking the movie and how glam it was..so the sets could be similar..or have potential. The music might be similar to an older 50s musical or idk. Maybe it would be similar to Moulin Rouge too. I would be pretty excited for it though anyway I think! I would love to hear more about there being two versions too since I didn't know that.

i was telling one of my best friends that it's very unlikely i'll do another music festival soon (although that same friend wants to do a music festival at some point, so i'll probably go with her just so she has someone to go with) because while i had a blast seeing so many people (and was able to justify the cost that way), it was just ... too peopley and too hot etc etc. for my liking! but i love her, and i'll do anything for her, including braving crowds and the heat again haha. glad i did it though, just for the sake of having done one, and for seeing that many people i wouldn't have gotten to see otherwise! and i actually haven't really been a big concert person up until this year, but that's what i've been hearing, unfortunately :( and eeee! i hope you like them!! i'd love to hear your thoughts on their music later 🤍 roman holiday is one of my favorite, favorite movies of all time, so i was super excited for the musical and as much as i love it, it is definitely not broadway ready (and i don't think it ever will be, unless they do an original score). and yes!! here's hoping they reworked the notebook so it's stronger! it's been about a year since it did the tryout, so plenty of time to have worked on it! yes! so there's the gatsby musical by kait kerrigan, jason howland and nathan tysen that's premiering at paper mill playhouse — you might know of kerrigan from kerrigan-lowdermilk (sam brown/the mad ones), howland from little women, and tysen from amelie and tuck everlasting — and that's the one that jerjor and eva are in! i love mad ones (and just kerrigan-lowdermilk's songs in general), and really enjoyed little women, amelie and tuck, so i'm really excited to see what becomes of it! and then the one that florence welch is involved with is the one premiering at the ART in boston! i am just so so excited to see what happens with both, and i think there are a lot of directions they could go in! not to mention, the set and staging — i'm thinking of how they can play with lighting (green light) already and i am just soooo excited. and i just thought of wildhorn & murphy's scott & zelda musical that drew gehling and laura michelle kelly sang songs from too (i have/had audio ... somewhere, i think, and i remember liking what i listened to, but might've lost it when i switched computers). there's so much to play with, and i just think it's really exciting! and now i want to do a gatsby reread!!

#post: answered #🩷 anon

[diegos-butt]

Cavillmas day 11 - fake dating

Walter Marshall x (f)reader

Summary: You asked your long time best friend Walter to play your boyfriend at a Christmas party. Do you have a crush on him? Yes. Will this be fluffy? Of course.

Warnings: like none? pining maybe. walter being walter. walter being cute. idk risk of falling in love with walter? cringy? just read for yourself and seeee.

Wordcount: 4.1k

A/N: yaaay my fic for cavillmas from @cavillsthighs is here! i hope you guys enjoy it, i certainly loved writing it.

Masterlist

•••

I was walking home in the cold, the fresh fallen snow cracking underneath my boots. Christmas was around the corner, and I was loving almost every second of it. The cold, the snow, the cosy sweaters, the Christmas lights; I could go on and on. The thing I didn’t like about this season? Being single.

Being single during Christmas was like forgetting to put on a jacket on that spring day that actually wasn’t warm enough to spend without a jacket, so you’d be uncomfortable the entire day. Therefore, I managed to get out of as many Christmas parties as possible, but there was one I couldn’t skip.

The one my best friend Lucy threw every year. And every year she told me it was fine if I came by myself, but every year I felt awkward as there were so many couples. It seemed like she managed to only befriend coupled people, except me.

This year I had tried to get a date. I downloaded various dating apps, did some swiping, and went on a few dates. Well, three to be precise, two to be exactly precise. Tonight, I saw date number three sitting at the bar we were supposed to meet, and the creepy vibe he gave me made me turn around instantly.

Walter would be proud of me, I thought. The detective and I had been friends for quite some time. We became friends when we had started the police academy at the same time. He managed to finish it, I was too stubborn and hard-headed. While I was one of the best of the class, alongside Walter, I quit. I couldn’t work by all those rules, if I wanted to do something to safe someone (even if it meant going into a dangerous situation all alone), I did it.

Yet, Walter and I stayed in touch. I mostly talked and he groaned or huffed, but it worked. I smiled as I thought of him, it had been obvious to everyone around me I didn’t think of the detective as a friend, but that was all we were. He had even been married when we became friends. But he had been divorced for quite some time now, he hadn’t even been dating.

I reached my home, and I was about to open the front door when an idea struck me. Quickly turning back around, I started walking into the snow again. I had no idea if it would work, or if he’d agree, but I just really didn’t want to be alone again at that party.

The walk was short, thankfully Walter lived close to me after the divorce and moved into an apartment in my neighbourhood. His apartment being poorly decorated though. I walked up the stairs to his floor, and banged on his front door. On the way there I stopped to get some take out, knowing if I wanted my plan to work, I needed some leverage.

The door swung open, and the detective filled the door post. His curls wild, dark circles under his eyes, a sweater, and sweatpants. Don’t look down, do not look down. I repeated the mantra in my head, I had made the mistake before and after that I had to avoid him for a week. I didn’t trust myself to not jump him so the image of his package (the name I had given it) had to be removed from my mind.

“I brought food!” I smiled and held up the paper brown bags.

“You know I can see that?” Walter said, and stepped out of the doorway to let me walk past him. My shoulder brushed against his chest, and I quickly walked over to the couch. I heard him walking to the kitchen, grabbing a set of plates. He came back just in time to watch me kick of my sneakers and get comfortable on the couch.

“That’s my spot.”

“No, it’s my spot you so kindly kept warm.” I grinned at him, and watched him shake his head and take place next to me. For someone who wasn’t friends with many people, and someone who wasn’t a very touchy person; he always sat pretty close to me. But I guessed that was because he felt comfortable around me. My best friend Lucy had joked about it, saying he was into me. I had always laughed it off, but right now it could work in my advantage. If I wanted this plan to work even.

“The least you can do is give me the food if you keep acting like this is your house,” Walter said, and the sparkle in his eyes told me he was glad I did that, making myself at home. I gave him the bags, and he carefully divided the foods between our plates. We immediately started eating, Walter wasn’t much of a talker, so we watched the soap opera that played on the channel the tv was on.

“How was your day?” he asked after we finished eating. I sighed, leaning back against the soft cushions, and stretching my legs out in front of me, resting them on Walter’s lap. His rough hand caressed my ankle, sending a shiver down my spine.

“It was fine. Work was boring. Made myself some healthy but boring dinner. Enjoyed the snow. Took a nice walk here. Nothing very interesting though. Yours?” I started to get a bit restless, why did I even think it was a great idea to come here with that stupid plan?

“Fine,” he just muttered, he shifted a bit and focussed his gaze on my ankles again that he was still caressing. If the bags under his eyes hadn’t told me, this reaction would’ve told me enough; he had had a hard day and he did not want to talk about it. And that was okay, every once in a while he did come to me to talk about it. He knew when his head was too full.

“So, why are you really here? I know you don’t like leaving your house after 8 for no reason, so spill it.” His eyes were back on mine, looking right through me. You could say what you want about him, but he was a detective in his heart and soul, and he knew me like the back of his hand. Well, almost. God, why did he have to wear that stupid sweater that makes him look so cuddly?

He scraped his throat, and it took me back to the moment. His eyebrows furrowed, an expecting look in his eyes. If I thought I could get out there without giving him an answer, I was so wrong.

“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to inform you we are going to a Christmas party this Friday, at Lucy’s, and you will pretend to be my boyfriend.” I decided it was best to be honest, this man had no time for bullshit, and he would know when I’d lie.

“Sorry, what?” he said confused, his fingers on my ankle stopping their movement. Oh, boy.

“You heard that right. Wear something pretty, okay? I’ll probably be wearing green, so just go with black,” I quickly answered and pulled my legs back. I grabbed my shoes, and tried to put them on but a hand stopped me.

“Hold up, you want me to pretend to be your man for the night? And what’s in it for me?” Walter asked.

“Yes, and nothing really. Free booze, fun night out with me; that should be enough. And I’ll cover take out for the next month!” I shook his hand of me and stood up from the couch. Walter looked at me, studied me, for a moment and I took my chance to walk to the front door. I had my coat already in hand, door open.

Walter showed up behind me while I was about to yell the time he should pick me up when he slammed the door shut again, trapping me between him and the no longer way out.

“You are not going anywhere. I need to know why, and I need to know details if we are going to do this. But you own me one, big time,” Walter grinned.

The week went by incredibly slow. Work was dreadful and boring, and Friday seemed ages away. But there were still miracles because finally it was Friday. Walter agreed to be my boyfriend for the night, if we set some ground rules.

Rule number one: pet names. He hated to be called pet names, but I put my foot down and demanded I got to call him something sweet, but not too sweet. So, we agreed I was allowed to call him babe. Simple, sweet, just a regular normal pet name. He wanted to call me princess. I politely declined. I suggested honey, sweetheart, or love; which he politely declined. Okay we both laughed out loud and yelled ‘no way’ out loud. We eventually settled on doll. A pet name that secretly made my heart jump, but in no way I would tell him that.

Rule number two: public display of affection. Walter being a man who would rarely smile of hug anyone besides his daughter, this would be a tricky one. Plus, I wasn’t big on PDA either; seeing those couples who are glued to each other the entire time made me nauseous. Yes, I want it too but that is not the point here. It surprised me when Walter took the initiative and said he would lay a hand on the small of my back, and hold my hand from time to time. Not the entire time, but still.

Rule number three: kissing. Yes, this is a form of PDA, but this deserved a separate rule. When I said we should discuss this, we stared awkwardly at each other before looking away even more awkward. If anything, I wouldn’t mind kissing him (who wouldn’t), but I did not want to kiss him for fake reasons. So, I suggested decided that kissing on the cheek would be appropriate, and if someone would give us a hard time a simple peck on the lips would be sufficient.

We talked the evening through very detailed, and Walter’s approach to this evening made me somehow feel relaxed but nervous at the same time. He thought everything through, and it was so sweet how caring he was to make sure I didn’t feel like shit for being single for once. I believe he even went to the hairdresser this week.

I thought the rules over, and the conversation we had. I hadn’t seen him since then, we texted, but I was nervous to see him in a couple of minutes. We agreed he would pick me up, so I could get a drink or two.

Glancing at my watch, time told me Walter would be here soon. I looked in the mirror, the dress I wore hugged my curves and the heels on my feet giving me even more height. Just a small heel though, just enough to make me the same height as Walter. I knew he wouldn’t mind it if I wore heels that made me taller than him, he has told me many times before. Plus, with his presence he made everyone feel a little smaller next to him.

I looked good, and I actually felt sexy for once. Normally I dressed in jeans and a sweater or something, so dressing up gave my self-esteem definitely a boost.

The doorbell rang, and I quickly ran to the front door to open it. I looked at the man in front of me, and I nearly fainted. Walter wore black trousers, just tight enough, and a black, also tight, turtleneck. God damn how can I stand beside this all night without jumping him. That would be a problem for later.

“Hey,” Walter said as he looked me up and down. “You look beautiful.” His voice sounded thick, and a little of guard.

“You look a little less shit than usual,” I grinned, decided I shouldn’t behave any differently than normal. And normal for us was insulting each other. “Nice to see you left those bags under your eyes at home for once.”

Walter sighed, and shook his head. “I can just go home, and let you go by yourself if that is what you want.”

“No! Come on, don’t act like a little baby, babe.” I emphasized the word babe, and the corner of Walter’s mouth twitched, like he was suppressing a smile.

“Alright, let’s go then doll.” Walter copied me, saying the pet name clearly. I laughed while grabbing my coat and locking the door behind me.

Walter opened the car door for me, and before he closed it he hesitated for a moment. But then he spoke. “Why didn’t you wear those other black heels? You know I really like those?” His eyes wandered over my long legs, a glance of mischief in his eyes.

“Because with you by my side, I will already attracted more attention than I’m used to. Don’t also need to be the tallest woman there,” I said and rolled my eyes.

“You’re so dramatic,” Walter said, and placed his hand on my thigh to gave a soft squeeze. Then he leant in, and pressed a tiny kiss on my cheek. Oh, fuck. This is gonna be a long night.

The party was exactly what you would expect from a Christmas party. Tacky music, over the top decorations (which were also quite tacky), snacks you rather not eat but the wine wasn’t so bad. Since Walter was driving, he wasn’t drinking. On the other hand, I was still sipping from my first glass, and we were already there for over an hour.

Lucy had jumped us right when we set foot in the house. I had told her I would bring someone, that something had recently happened and that I wanted to show her rather than tell her. The look on her face when she saw us together, Walter’s arm snuggly around my waist (an action that was actually not in the rules), was priceless.

“But tell us! How did you two finally get together?” Lucy asked, her boyfriend Andrew standing by her side. I wanted to open my mouth to speak, Walter and I talked about this and made up a story, but Walter was faster.

“We both knew it was always there, but none of us acted on it. Then a few weeks ago, we were watching a movie, and everything just fell into place. We just wanted to take it slow, but so far so good, right doll?” Walter turned to look at me, and I looked back with a very confused look. I had never heard this man speak so many words in one go. I had never heard this man say so many nice words at all.

“Uh, yeah. That’s sums it up quite well,” I quickly said, realizing I took way too long to answer. Walter cocked his eyebrow, only visible for me, checking if I was okay. I nodded almost invisible, but he noticed, and his arm slid of my waist to grab my hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, and although I was fighting it, the butterflies filled my stomach.

“I’ll get us a drink.” Walter kissed my temple, and walked away with Andrew to grab drinks.

“You have got to tell me everything! I so knew this was going to happen.” Lucy threw her arms around my neck, not even trying to hide her excitement.

“What do you mean you knew this was gonna happen?” It was obvious that I had a crush, but not that he liked be back!” I laughed. I was still not believing it Walter actually agreed with this plan, and that he made this act look quite believable as well.

“Oh, honey no, like it told you many times before: he really likes you. The way he looks at you?! I wish Andrew would look at me like that,” Lucy said. “But really, I’m so glad you two go together. I was about time.”

She squeezed my shoulder, gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked away to welcome a few new guests who came walking through the door. Walter came back with our drinks, and we decided to socialize for a moment.

Walter made sure he was close to me the entire time, or that he had his hand in mine or around my waist. It felt good, but it also made me sad a little because I didn’t want this to end. I should have never asked him to do this. This was a big mistake.

We finally found a quiet spot after we both hit out maximum amount of socializing for the day. The kitchen was empty, and I walked to the fridge to grab two sodas. Walter leant against the kitchen island, and I joined him. We both took a few sips in silence.

“This is going well uh?” Walter chuckled and nudged my side.

“Yeah, it is, I can’t believe everyone is believing it. Although I gotta say, we are being pretty convincing. We are being glued together the entire time, and the occasional kiss on the cheek is doing it job.” I saw Walter smile, he wanted to answer, but I shut him up by pressing a kiss to his bearded cheek. He looked at me, a soft smile on his lips and a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. He looked down at my lips and involuntarily I parted them slightly. Fucking kiss me.

“Hey, I was wondering-” Walter started, but was interrupted by the ringtone of his phone. “Hmm, yeah. Right now? C’mon, why can’t you call him? Okay fine, give me a moment.”

I had taken a step back, giving him a little privacy. When he hung up, I turned back around. “Bad news?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry doll but I gotta go. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” He looked annoyed, the smile on his lips gone and the tension was back in his shoulders.

“Of course, I understand.” I smiled at him, hoping he’d understand it was fine. I knew he had a job that wasn’t 9 to 5. “And if you don’t make it back in time, that’s alright too. Now go and make the world a little safer.”

“One hour, I’ll be back in an hour. I promise.” Walter engulfed me in his arms, and pressed a kiss to my temple once more. His cologne and scent infiltrated my nostrils. He smelled good, way too good, and I mentally made a note to steal one of his sweaters when I visited his home next time.

Two hours later Walter still hadn’t come back. The party was fine, but I had way less fun without Walter. We had both been making fun of people before he left, and now I had no one to do that with. Plus, I missed his warmth. His hand in mine. Or just him being around me in general. I looked around, at all those couples, and I realized I didn’t just had a crush on him. I was in love with him. And after this little glimpse of what it could be, I couldn’t go back.

The party guests were slowly leaving, and I checked my phone one more time just to be sure Walter hadn’t called or texted. He hadn’t, so I texted him I was already on my way home and that I’d see him later. It was fine. It was better this way.

I said goodbye to Lucy, and grabbed my coat on the way out. In the last few days, it had snowed some more, a thick pack laying underneath my feet as I walked home. A cold breeze hung in the air, and I pulled my coat a little closer around me. I shouldn’t have worn these heels. Why did I wear heels when there is snow outside?!

While I was walking, I mentally scolded myself. I had no idea how I could go back to just being friends with Walter. I wanted him. I wanted to wake up next to him, to fall asleep next to him. Okay, on top of him. And I wanted to kiss him. So badly. He already knew me through and through, he was the only person I could really be myself around.

The walk home wasn’t extremely long, just a few more blocks to go. I crossed a corner, and when I did, something appeared at the horizon. Someone actually. He was big, and tall. Curly hair. A bit of a grumpy attitude. Hands stuffed in his pockets. What the fuck is he doing here?

Seconds later we stood in front of each other. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Not even an ‘hello, how nice to see you Walter’ this time?” Walter mocked with a grin on his face.

“Oh, shut up.” I slapped him across the chest, a little taken back by the firmness of it. God, I wanna snuggle up to all of this. No, stop it. Stop this.

“Saw your text on the way back, figured you’d be on your way home. Walking, since you would be too stubborn to ask for help, for a ride home. So, I thought I’d park my car at yours and would meet you halfway.” We started walking again, and because of the snow and the late hour, it was just us.

“That is actually pretty sweet of you. Never knew I’d see the day you would do something nice for someone else,” I teased him. We both knew he did nice things for other people, well me and his daughter. Nothing grand, but the little things, the things that actually mattered.

We chatted on the way, just casual stuff. I’m not sure if it was the cold, or the fact I wanted to be closer to him, but once we reached my home there was no space between us anymore. Our hands brushing against each other from time to time and I kept hoping he would hold it. Yet he didn’t.

“I’m sorry I had to leave by the way. I knew you wanted to have someone by your side tonight, and I failed at that,” Walter spoke as I was about to open the front door.

“No, no! You don’t have to be sorry. You have a job, and you’re good at it. I always knew this could happen. So, no apologizing, okay?” I almost turned the key, but realized I was the one that needed to apologize. “I should be the one to say sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this and pretended to be my boyfriend.”

Walter chuckled, and grabbed one of my hands. “I really didn’t mind doll.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Yeah, whatever.” I smiled a little awkwardly. His calloused hand softly caressing mine sending shivers down my spine. Quickly I retracted my hand, and opened the door. I heard Walter sighing behind me as we both walked in.

“You’re telling me you haven’t figured it out by now?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked surprised. I kicked my heels off, and threw my coat on a chair while I walked to the kitchen with Walter close behind me.

“Pretending is not that hard when there isn’t much to pretend.”

I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned around to face him. “W- What?”

Walter took a step forward, caging me between him and the kitchen, hands resting on the countertop. “Question, did you mind having me as your boyfriend for tonight?”

I fell silent, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. While I wanted to believe what was happening, my brain had a hard time processing it.

“It’s a simple question doll, did you mind or not?” Walter brought his face a little closer to mine, his gaze falling to my lips.

“I didn’t mind, at all,” I whispered.

“Good, because I don’t think I can go back to just being friends. Not while I have had a taste.”

My hands rested on his chest, and wandered their way up to his neck. His gaze was intense, dark, and dead serious. Walter’s hands snuck around my waist, and one of his hands immediately went a little more south.

We both couldn’t control ourselves any longer, and our lips finally crashed into each other. Years of wanting, needing, yearning; all coming out at once. Hands were everywhere, tongues, teeth, little bites. It was all there. I knew Walter was passionate about things he cared, and then it fell together. The passion he showed there, was all the reassurance I needed.

We parted, just a little, to breath because we were both totally out of breath. A soft chuckle escaped my lips, and Walter pressed a kiss to my forehead before wrapping his arms around me. We stood there for a little while, enjoying the moment.

“So, how about I make us some hot chocolate and then we put on a movie we won’t watch because we will be making out, girlfriend?” Walter said after a moment.

“That sounds like a good plan, boyfriend,” I said and firmly pressed a kiss to his lips.

•••

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #walter marshall x plus size reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x plus size reader #cavillmas

[writing-wh0re]

I can have one where Peter is a fuck boy and unknowingly slept with Y/N (stark) and they meet at the tower on a group meeting day. (and he in front of the avengers pretends to be innocent). Love you

All writing will be #writing-wh0re-requests.

Peter Park x Female Reader - Tony Stark's Daughter.

Words: 3,625 - longest I've ever written.

Warnings: Smut18+, Vaginal intercourse, Male and Female Performing Oral, Praise Kink, Unprotected Sex, Fuckboy Peter Parker, Angst.

A/n: I hope you enjoy this, I took three hours to write and edit this. I got a little carried away with it (I think) and I apologise for it being sooo long.

So far your senior year had been amazing, you were destined to finish top of your class which would make your dad happy and you had also been offered an internship with him, which some of your classmates thought was bullshit but hey, considering you didn’t want to go to some flashy expensive school, you were doing pretty good, even with your dad’s help.

That was until you went out to your first party with your best friend Macie, she thought it was about time you let loose and have fun. You didn’t want to go and had even told your mum and dad who only encouraged you to go out, so that plan backfired. So here you were, standing in Macie’s living room, red solo cup in your hand while dancing with your best friend, happy to have listened to her for once and let loose.

“How do you know this many people?”

Macie shakes her head “I don't know them, they’re Tyler’s friends from his school.” I nod in agreement, looking around the room for Tyler, Macie's boyfriend who is chatting with a guy I’ve never seen before. His brown slightly curly hair, puppy dog eyes and a smile that causes butterflies inside of my stomach. Macie grabs my shoulder, following my line of sight before laughing and shaking her head.

“Peter Parker.”

“Peter Parker” I repeat his name, loving the way it sounds as it falls from my lips. “He’s fucking hot.”

Macie laughs at me before nodding. “Yeah he’s alright, he goes to school with Tyler. He’s a bit of a ladies man but I don’t know too much about him.”

“He’s into science and technology?” I almost feel bad for questioning the boy's intelligence, judging him solely on his handsome appearance.

“Yeah, Tyler, Peter and a guy called Ned won their last science fair two weeks ago.” Macie informs. “Let's go say hi.” Macie grabs my arm pulling me through the body’s of unknown teenagers before we come face to face with Peter and Tyler.

“Hey babe, we were just talking about you.” Tyler pulls Macie into his side, kissing the side of her head.

My eyes fall to Peter, both of us smiling at each other. I feel my skin fall hot slightly as his eyes wander over my body. I mentally thank myself for wearing my red leather shirt and lace crop top.

“I’m Peter.”

“Y/n.” I smile before hearing someone clear their throat. Turning my attention to Macie, a cocky smirk on her face.

“Tyler and I want to play beer pong, want to join?”

“You’d have to be partners though.” Tyler quickly adds, before walking away with Macie to the table to set the game up, not even waiting for a response.

I look to my side slightly silently asking Peter if he’d like to join.

“I need words Y/n.” I take in a sharp breath at what Peter just said to me.

“Uh, would you, um like to be my partner for beer pong?” Peter licks his lips before smirking at me.

“Of course.” His hand falls to the middle of my back as he guides me to the table Tyler and Macie had just set up. Macie raises her eyebrow at me, causing me to blush and shake my head, knowing exactly what she is thinking.

“Okay so standard rules, but we haven’t decided what the winner gets yet.” Tyler states.

I watch Macie stand on her tippy toes whispering something into Tylers ear causing him to chuckle.

“Okay, the winner has to make out with their team member.”

I sigh at my best friend before nodding.

“Fine, okay.”

“Sound a little more excited.” Peter whispers, flicking his eyes from mine to my lips. I roll my eyes, ignoring his comment as Macie flips a coin.

“Heads.” I call quickly, watching Macie reveal the coin, heads being the winner.

Tyler throws Peter the ball, catching it perfectly in one swift motion.

“Fuck.” I whisper to myself, seeing him smirk slightly. He surely didn’t hear me, did he?

I stand beside Peter as he lines up the first shot, landing the ball into the cup causing Tyler to groan.

“Lucky shot.” Macie mumbles before lining up to take her shot, missing the cup as I pout.

“Awh Mace.” Macie narrows her eyes at me before flipping me off.

I grab the ball, lining up the shot, before I can let go of the ball, Peter’s hand falls to my elbow, his other placed in the middle on my back.

“Lower, otherwise you’ll miss and we want to win.” His warm breath fans my neck causing my heartbeat to pick up. I let the ball slip through my fingertips, missing the cup I was originally planning on but landing the ball in the one behind.

“That’s unfair.” Macie complains before drinking from the cup.

The game continues with us losing our lead, until the last cup for both teams. I take a deep breath, knowing it's my go and praying that I won’t miss this shot.

“Breathe, lower your arm, line it up and sink it.” Peter whispers, his lips against my ear, his hands placed on my hips. I follow his instructions, taking a breath, lowering my arm and letting go of the ball. The room feels like it slows down as the ball bounces on the table, landing into the cup.

“Good girl.”

An uncontrollable whimper leaves my lips which causes his grip on my hips to tighten, feeling my arousal pool in my panties.

“Holy shit, you won!” Macie cheers, clapping her hands as Tyler follows suit.

I don’t get a chance to respond to Macie as my body is spun around, my chest bumping into Peter’s. One of his hands cupping my cheek, the other still on my hip, his lips locking onto mine. I feel my body relax against his lips, putting my arms around his neck deepening our kiss.

Peter smiles against my lips, everyone around us whooping and hollering at our interaction. We pull away from each other, before he leans back in, quickly pecking my lips.

*Optional but I listened to this song while writing this next part*

“I love this song, Y/n come dance.” Macie almost squeals, grabbing my arm and pulling me from Peter’s embrace. “Was that as good as it looked?”

“God yes.”

Macie smiles at me before mouthing the words ‘she got that rich girl la vibe.’ gesturing to me as I flip my hair over my shoulder, laughing at my best friend. Macies hands fall to my hips, swaying to the beat with me, I place my arms around her neck singing the words with her.

Macie goes wide eyed slightly before letting go of my hips, I raise my eyebrow about to protest her actions before feeling a familiar grip. I tilt my head back, resting on his shoulder grinding my ass against his crotch, his grip tightening on my hips.

“Behave.”

I roll my eyes, spinning around in his embrace, without a second thought I lean forward, kissing up his neck before softly biting his earlobe.

“Make me.” I dont have a second to think before I’m being pulled behind Peter, a smug smile on my face. He drags me through the crowd, banging on the bathroom door before pulling me through the door with him.

His lips are instantly on mine, my back against the door, his fingertips running up and down my sides. I grab his wandering hand, placing it on my boob causing him to groan softly. I bite his bottom lip, pulling back as our eyes lock together. His lips fall to my neck, kissing and biting the skin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”

His compliment causes a shiver to run down my spine, my fingers running through his hair, pulling on his curly locks earning a moan from his lips. The warmth of his body leaves mine, grabbing my hips and picking me up, I softly squeal, shocked how easily he lifted me. Peter places me on the bathroom counter, tugging on top as I pull the flimsy lace fabric from my body, his lips instantly kissing my boobs, swiping his tongue across my nipple.

“Fuck.” I hiss, watching Peter pull my nipple between his teeth. Peter kisses down my body, pulling my skirt up letting it sit around my waist.

“You’re dripping for me.” Peter presses against my clit through the fabric of my g-string. I slowly rock my hips up, attempting to get some friction.

“Needy little girl.”

I whimper at his words, feeling myself become wetter by the second. A gasp falls from my lips as Peter pulls my panties to the side, blowing on my glistening heat.

“Please.” I beg, causing Peter to chuckle. He trails feather light kisses up my thighs before licking a stripe from my core to my clit. On instinct my fingers tangle in his hair, my head falling back against the mirror, mouth agape as moans and gasps fall from my lips like water.

“Yes, fuck.”

Peter slides a finger inside of me, causing my pussy to clench around the contact. His lips cover my clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves earning a hiss from me. Peter adds another finger, pumping in and out of my pussy, my hand slaps across my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure. Peter looks up at me, using his free hand to pull my elbow.

“Let me hear you.”

I flutter my eyes closed, Peter’s lips on my thigh, sucking and biting the skin, his fingers still buried deep inside of me.

“I’m close.”

The second the words escape me, I regret them. Peter pulls away from me, standing to undress himself. Without a second thought I fall to my knees, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Naughty girl.”

My hands fall to his pants, unbuttoning his jeans before hurriedly unzipping them. I palm his cock through his underwear, a breathless moan escaping from his lips. I tug at the fabric, having his help to pull it off. His dick springs free, my breath hitching at the size of him.

I take him in my hand, pumping up and down slowly, swirling my tongue around the head. Peter bites his lip, his fingers brushing through my hair, his eyes focusing on my every move. I lick from the base to the tip before taking him fully in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down. The sounds Peter makes cause my pussy to ache, his fingers pull on my hair, helping to guide my mouth. I gag around him as he hits the back of my throat, an unholy sound falling from his lips at the contact.

Peter pulls my mouth off him, pulling me up by my arms, placing me on the counter again. I grab his cock, running it up and down my slit, causing Peter to chuckle.

“Someone’s eager.” I simply answer him by positioning his cock at my entrance, hooking my legs around his waist to pull him into me.

I moan at the feeling of him inside of me, his eyes flutter closed at the contact, moaning at the sensation.

“You feel so good.” I smirk at him, watching his eyes flick to where our bodies meet, his thumb brushing against my clit.

I pull Peter closer to me, locking our lips together as he slides in and out of me, deeper with each thrust, causing my body to tingle, the speed of his thumb picking up before slowing right back down.

I pull away from our kiss, trailing kisses down his jaw, running my tongue down his neck, sucking and biting the skin. Peter grips my ass at the contact of my lips, spanking me hard as I rack my nails down his back.

“Just like that Peter.” I whisper in his ear, softly biting his earlobe as he groans.

“Fucking so good.”

I feel the band inside of me tighten, my pussy tightening around his cock.

“Cum for me, come on baby.” My eyes roll back, shocks of electricity flowing through me, holding onto Peter tight. Peter moans against my shoulder, biting the skin before finding his own release.

Before he pulls out, Peter kisses me, holding my face in his hands.

“You’re incredible.” Blush heats up my cheeks as he pulls out of me, hissing at the loss of contact. Peter and I both get dressed quickly, walking back out to the party, moving through the crowd to find Macie and Tyler.

I lock eyes with Macie as her mouth falls open, quickly rushing over to me and pulling me away from Peter.

“You had sex.”

“Shh, don’t tell the whole party.”

Macie rolls her eyes, moving my hair over my shoulder before wincing.

“Have fun explaining that one to your dad.”

I go wide eyed slightly, turning to the hallway mirror and seeing three hickies on my neck.

“Fucking hell.”

Macie chuckles at my expense, pulling me with her to go back to Peter and Tyler. I frown my brows, Tyler now by himself.

“Uh, where did Peter go?” I question as Tyler shrugs. I quickly look around the living room, my eyes landing on Peter watching him slip out the front door without a word.

“Did he just leave?” Macie asks almost dumb founded.

“Guess so.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Y/n, just be lucky you didn’t sleep with Peter, he’s a bit of a fuckboy to be honest.” Tyler chuckles as I feel my body fall cold. Tyler looks between myself and Macie, choking on his drink slightly. “You fucked him.”

“I’m going to head home.” I mumble, Macie quickly pulling me into a hug, walking me to her front door, the same one Peter had just ducked out of.

“You can stay.”

“It’s fine Macie, I want to shower and sleep in my own bed.” Macie smiles weakly at me, pulling me into another embrace. “I’ll text you.”

Macie nods in response as I pull my phone out, calling Happy to pick me up.

--

The next morning I wake up feeling rough, hating that I mixed different alcohol’s and feeling off about having slept with a complete stranger, knowing how unlike me that is.

“Good morning Y/n, your dad would like to see you in the kitchen.” Friday’s voice bounces off my bedroom walls. I groan at the announcement, grabbing a scrunchie to throw my hair up in a messy ponytail. I quickly look over my outfit, sweatpants and a stark industries crop jumper, good enough. I grab a pair of socks before walking out onto the cold tiles.

“Friday summoned me.” I announce walking into the kitchen, seeing my dad and the avengers sitting around the table. “Oh awesome.” I whisper.

“And what time did you get home?”

“Eleven, maybe.”

I open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and sitting on the bench, facing everyone.

“How was the party? You’ll have to tell us everything.” Wanda smiles as I nod.

“Y/n Stark, what is that on your neck?” My dad bellows, standing up and tilting my head, looking at the hickies on my neck.

“Nothing.” I push my dad away as everyone at the table snickers.

“You did tell her to go out and party.” Steve states causing my dad to turn and point at the super soldier.

“Stay out of this Rogers.”

“She’s young Tony, let her enjoy her last few weeks of school.” Nat pipes up causing my dad to tut and sit back down.

‘Thank you.’ I mouth to Steve and Nat as they both smile and nod at me.

“So why do you look like you’re having a meeting?”

“We are welcoming a new member to the avengers.” My dad states, sipping his coffee.

“Right, so why did you want me here for that?”

“Because you haven’t met him yet and you’re both going to be interning for me in a few weeks, thought it might be good to be acquainted.” I nod in response to my dad, taking a sip of my water.

“They’re all waiting for you.” I hear Happy’s voice say as he walks into the room, all of the avengers stand and look behind me, I turn and look over my shoulder, feeling my heart beat pick up, my mouth falling dry.

“Peter.” His name falls from my lips in shock.

Peter’s eyes lock onto me as he swallows harshly.

“Peter, buddy, welcome.” My dad greets him like an old friend, his eyes moving from mine to my dads.

I feel a hand grip my forearm, a gasp pulling me out of my thoughts, I quickly pull out of the grip.

“Get out of my head Wanda.”

“He did this.” Wanda whispers gesturing to my neck, Nat and Steve both looking at me. I hold my finger to my lips, pleading with my eyes.

“How much did you see?” Nat whispers to Wanda. I don’t hear Wanda’s response as my dad calls me over to him. I quickly slip off the bench, Nat with a small smirk on her face. I sigh softly knowing they know.

“You called.”

“Peter Parker, this is my daughter Y/N Stark, she will be interning with you and is typically on our communications for missions.” My dad states as Peter puts out his hand for a headshake, I scoff before accepting his gesture.

“So what’s your ability?”

“He’s Spiderman, isn’t it great to finally put a face to the suit.” My mum says, standing next to Happy. Instantly, everything from last night makes sense, the smirk he had when I whispered, the soft touches, leaving the party abruptly. It all makes sense, he knew what he was doing. He could read me like a fucking book.

“Y/n is very fond of you, she studied your web abilities.” My dad states, causing me to run my hand down my face.

“Ah, well, maybe you should show me what you learnt and I could fill in any blanks.” Peter states, causing my dad to hum in approval.

“Why don’t you do that now while I get paperwork ready for you to sign.” My dad smiles. I feel a hand cup my shoulder, looking to the right and seeing Steve.

“Steve Rogers.”

Peter grabs his outstretched hand, wincing slightly at the grip Steve gives. I slightly elbow the super soldier, knowing Wanda told him what she saw.

“Maybe Banner should go with them, do you want a teenage boy to be left alone with your teenage daughter?” Steve asks, my dad sighs before chuckling.

“Clearly she was with a teenage boy last night, I’m sure Peter here is harmless compared to last night's company.”

I hear Nat and Wanda giggle before passing it off as something else.

“Go.” My dad instructs, I sigh, turning away from him and leading the way to the lab.

The walk to the lab is silent, only my dad’s voice bouncing off the walls asking the group why they’re being weird.

I walk over to my desk, grabbing the file on ‘Web Slinger’ and handing it to Peter.

“Take it.”

Peter’s hand brushes against mine before he grabs the file, sitting in the chair beside mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “Oh yeah because you gave me time to tell you.”

Peter sighs, putting the file on my desk before pulling my chair closer to him.

“Could have told me beforehand.”

“It didn’t seem to matter, how was I supposed to know who you were?”

Peter stays quiet, his eyes looking everywhere but mine.

“Not like you stayed afterwards for us to actually have a conversation.”

“I had shit to do, people to save.” Peter states, now looking at me dead in the eyes.

“Fine, I get that but couldn’t you give me your number or some way of contacting you?”

Peter once again stays quiet.

“Did you tell them? Because Captain America seems to be protective.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “No, I didn’t tell them. Wanda Maximoff read my mind, guess she told him.” Peter sighs before I continue, “Look, we can just forget it, okay? You’re a part of their team now and we’re just going to have to move on.”

Peter’s hand falls to my knee, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of my sweatpants.

“What if we don’t move on? What if we start something?”

“Peter, I don’t want you to feel you have to start something because I’m your boss's daughter, if you want to forget it ever happened we can.”

Peter tuts, moving his hand from my knee to my face.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I meant what I said last night, you’re incredible” My heartbeat picks up, butterflies erupting inside of me causing Peter to smirk. “I have an effect on you.”

“Cocky arent you.”

Peter smirks smugly, before brushing his lips against mine.

“If you don’t want to try this, stop me.” Peter hesitates for a few seconds before I close the gap between us, kissing him. Peter’s hands move under my thighs, picking me up from the chair and placing me on my desk.

“Peter Parker!” Peter jumps away from me at the shouting of my dad’s voice. “You two have some explaining to do.”

Peter scratches the back of his neck, looking at me as I shrug lightly.

“Maximoff told me, I should have listened to Rogers, but don't tell him I said that.” My dad walks over to us, grabbing the chair Peter once sat in. “I’m listening.”

Peter takes a deep breath before explaining it all to my dad, leaving out a few details as I but in to fill any holes.

| | |

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[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which a new relationship sparks up in the restaurant. 

a/n: hi loves! i’m back with a new story, and this is for nat’s @harrystylescherry​ playlist fic challenge! the song i chose is ‘say it’ by maggie rogers, which is one of my absolute favorite songs! hope you all like it, please reblog and leave feedback!

WORD COUNT: 13.8k words of waiter!harry x waitress!yn 

WARNINGS: angst and some smut 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SAY IT’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share <3

It was eleven in the morning when Harry walked through the back door of ‘Spring,’ ready to start his long day of being on his feet while waiting tables. 

He walked to the staff’s lounge that held their lockers and a bench before looking around to see if anyone else was in the locker room; he turned the dial of his lock pad to open his blue locker. His coworkers would always tease him about being so secretive when he knows that no one would actually steal from him, but better to be safe than sorry, and he couldn’t imagine how awkward that would be confronting one of his coworkers if they actually had stolen from him. 

He put his white canvas tote bag that was printed in a brown text that said ‘Celestial Natural Foods’—a store in Hawaii—in his locker and hanging it on one out of the two hooks before grabbing his black waist apron and tying it around his waist. 

The restaurant’s attire was a simple white or black button down with black trousers. The manager of the restaurant, Irene, told the staff that they could choose either color shirt whenever they pleased. As for jewelry, she didn’t mind when her waiters and waitresses wore jewelry, as long as it wasn’t interfering with how they held the plates of food, causing them to drop it. Harry was glad to hear that Irene allowed jewelry because his rings and necklaces made him Harry. Twisting his rings and fixing his necklaces, he took a quick glance at the small mirror that was stuck on the inside of the door with a magnet, and combed his hair back with his hands before closing his locker shut and locking it. 

He washed his hands at the sink next to the locker room, and he smiled at the commotion and noise from behind him that came from the kitchen crew. They were prepping for the dinner hour, chopping up various vegetables, making the restaurant’s famous dressing and sauces, and baking the side dishes that usually took a while in the oven. 

“Hey, Harry!” Jet, one of the sous chefs, greeted as he looked up at Harry with a big smile as he continued chopping up cabbage like the professional chef that he was. 

Harry chuckled, amazed at his knife skills. “Hey, Jet. How are you today?” He leaned against the stainless steel countertop as he talked to Jet through the open space of the shelves, where the food rested under the heated and dim light when it was ready to be served. 

“I’m doing great! How was your three day vacation?” 

“It was okay. It went by fast, but I missed it here anyways,” Harry responded with a smile. Jet laughed, nodding. 

“Well, we missed you too. Anyways, Irene told me to tell you that she’s looking for you.” Harry squinted his eyes slightly, not knowing whether Irene looking for him was a good or bad thing, and Jet seemed to notice what he was thinking. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing bad.” 

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. Jet was his closest friend at Spring, ever since Harry started working as a waiter three years ago. He desperately needed a job because being his own boss and freelancing as a photographer could be difficult sometimes; and building up a client list when he first started out was even harder. But three years later, he was able to get his name around through his clients, and he earned enough where he could technically quit his job at Spring and focused purely on photography; however, Harry liked the restaurant too much to just quit—he liked serving people, believe it or not. His charms go a long way for respectful and kind customers, and of course, a great tip. Most of his friends always worked here as well, as he didn’t have quite a lot of friends since he moved from London, but his coworkers had become his very own friends, and he loved them too much to leave. 

“Thanks, I’ll see you when we open!” Harry said as Jet waved to him, watching him walk around the counter to find Irene who was talking to a woman he’s never seen before. 

He’s always loved walking through the restaurant because it had such a friendly and open vibe with white painted walls, trees planted in a line in the middle of the floor, and a big glass ceiling for a solarium ambience. His favorite part was that there were no walls to separate the dining area from the kitchen, so customers could see straight through the kitchen and watch the chefs work on their food with just a turn of their heads. 

“Ah, there he is,” Irene said once Harry was close enough. “I’m glad you’re early.” 

“Irene, I’m always early, what do you mean?” Harry breathed out a chuckle. 

“I know you are. I’m just glad you’re extra early today because I need you to train this lovely woman next to me.” Irene stepped out of the way to reveal you to the waiter that was going to train you today. 

Harry looked at you, and immediately, his breath was caught in his throat. The light that was provided through the glass ceiling cast down at you, giving you a glow that was ethereal, and he mentally thanked the interior designer of the restaurant from so many years ago for insisting on putting a glass ceiling instead of a regular, covered one. There you were, standing in the open light as you flashed him a smile that almost made him collapse due to how weak his knees were, and he physically had to place a hand on the brown wooden table next to him to keep himself up. You were stunning, to say the least. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered him a hand, smiling softly at him. He shook your hand, feeling the softness of your small hand and how it contrasted to his large and somewhat rough hand. 

“I’m Harry. It’s lovely to meet you.” He smiled, two dimples indenting his cheeks. You noticed that his left dimple was more prominent than his right, but either way, you thought he was a gorgeous man. 

Yours and Harry’s eyes had lingered a bit longer, and once you had caught yourself staring, you forced yourself to take your eyes off him, even though it was difficult to. And that’s when you knew it was going to be a slight problem working around him. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Irene interrupted. She turned towards Harry. “Harry, this is our newest addition to our waiting staff. You’ve been here long enough and it seems like you’re here everyday, so I’m going to leave her with you to train.” Once she was down, Irene turned towards you. “Y/N, you’re going to train with Harry for the rest of the week. It’s usually two weeks that are required for training, but since you’ve had waiting experience before, I’ll knock it down to one, and by the end of the week, we’ll see how you’re doing and where you are with everything. Sounds good?” 

You nodded excitedly, giving her a bright smile before she clapped her hands and said ‘great.’ Harry looked at you the entire time, and he just knew that you were the type of person that could light up a room with your beautiful and bright smile. 

Irene turned towards Harry once more. “Show her the ropes, introduce her to people, and just make her comfortable, yeah?” Harry nodded, teasingly saluting at his boss as he earned a laugh from her. 

Irene left, leaving the two of you, but your attention was preoccupied with the restaurant as you eagerly looked around, getting familiar with the place you’d hoped to be stable at for a while. 

Harry cleared his throat, to which you immediately looked at him. He gave you a smile before he said, “So, ready for your first day?” 

“Ready!” You exclaimed, tone a bit too excited, making you slightly embarrassed, so you curled your lips into your mouth and looked around the restaurant again to hide your slight embarrassment. 

Harry giggled. “Don’t look around too much—you might get tired of this place before you even start,” he teased, completely forgetting how shy and embarrassed you looked. 

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” you confessed immediately, feeling a certain comfort once you walked into the restaurant. Hell, the moment you researched the restaurant, you loved the place. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Harry led you around the counter where customers could watch the chefs in action as they cooked their meals. “This is where you could get all the supplies needed—napkins, extra plates, utensils, place mats, everything should be here. If not, then it’ll usually be in the kitchen, right over here.” He walked over to the kitchen where there were more supplies under the table, and pointed below the table. “Here’s more if the ones behind the counter run out, and if they do run out and you just so happen to be there, please make sure to refill it.” You nodded understandingly. 

Harry walked you through the steps of how the system of the restaurants worked as he imputed a demo order into the system on the touchable screen. There were five order screens, one in each corner of the restaurant, one behind the counter, and one in the kitchen; there shouldn’t be any collision or anyone waiting for one of the severs to finish with the screen because there were only about four to five servers working every shift considering it was a small restaurant. Harry then walked you along on where to pick up the order as every dish had its receipt with the order printed on the paper along with the table number. He told you that the table numbers are in order of how the tables are set up—number one starts with the countertops since it’s closest to the entrance, following along the walls, and the tables in the middle were numbered last. 

You liked how easy their routine and system was that you were sure you’d have it down by the end of the week. Harry made sure to introduce you to the staff that you two passed by as he led you throughout the restaurant; he made you feel comfortable right from the bat, making sure to make a few jokes here and there that certainly released some tension in your shoulders from nerves. You were grateful that he made you laugh--you were worried that you wouldn’t like your coworkers or they would be mean and snarky because you’re the newbie, but with Harry, it seemed like you two were getting along quite well; he was polite, helpful, and kind. 

“So, that’s pretty much it.” He looked at the time on his Apple Watch, reading a quarter to six in the evening, 15 minutes until Spring opened for dinner. “Do you have any questions?” 

You tried thinking of anything that you could ask, but your mind seemed to have collected all the information Harry had told you and retained it quite well. “No, nothing I can think of at the moment.” 

“Great. For now, do you mind checking the placemats and the table decor for me?” You nodded helpfully. “And then if you have any remaining time left, just chill out and take a breather for a second, and then come find me when we open.” 

“Okay. Sounds good.” You smiled at him sweetly, making him smile back before he walked away and towards the kitchen. 

You headed towards the dining room, making sure the woven placements were symmetrical and even; you also straightened out the utensils that made their way out of line or off the tablemats. You did this for the rest of the ten minutes you had of peace before you made your way through the restaurant to find Harry. 

The entire time you were in the dining room, Harry was in the locker room, mindlessly on his phone to waste time. He was lucky that he didn’t have to do anything before the restaurant opened, so he had some spare time to relax for a bit. He tried cooling down to get the pink flush that painted his cheeks off, but that’s what happened when he was around you; immediately, you had already had this effect on him, making him blush and nervous around you, and he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way you brightly smiled at him, practically gleaming; or the way you laughed at his jokes, which even he could admit are a bit corny and bad—a very dad-like joke, but you still laughed. 

Whatever it was, he knew that he was fucked. 

Dinner time was a rush. Spring was busy and full; the reservation booklet was booked with no space to cater to walk-ins. 

You were shadowing Harry as you followed him around like a lost puppy, watching him interact with the customers, occasionally pulling out his charm so he would get a big tip. You couldn’t imagine if you were a customer and Harry was your server because your face would heat up instantly, and it would be difficult to contain a smile on your face. He had such a natural charm to him, making him naturally flirty as he flashed customers his smile and laughing at their horribly made jokes. 

For half of the night, you simply followed him around, watched the paths he took when he got the customers’ food and his overall routine of things. With every table he got assigned to, he made sure to introduce you to the party, always glancing over at you once he said your name as you greeted the customers with a bright smile. Harry nearly had to stop every time he glanced over at you as it seemed like your beauty always distracted him. 

You helped him with dealing with the plates, beverages, and getting extra necessities such as cheese, hot sauce, or extra utensils and plates for the table. 

Once the restaurant died down a bit, you and Harry were able to walk a bit slower, relaxing each time a party leaves. When there was about an hour and a half left of your shift and till the restaurant closes, Harry asked you if you’d like to take orders, saying it’ll be best if he observed how you would talk and serve the customers, and you excitedly said ‘yes.’ Harry was only assigned to five to six tables during his shift, and since it was near closing time, there were only two that had just arrived. 

Harry politely introduced himself, telling the parties that you were new and shadowing him, but you were going to take over for the rest of their stay at Spring. He watched you kindly talk to them, occasionally making small talk as you laughed with them; you talked about your favorite items on the menu, along with your favorite selection of wine. This time, Harry helped you with your tasks that you had done before you two switched off, and he immediately admitted to himself that the two of you made such a great team. It was only your first day here, and he already saw how naturally the both of you moved around one another, along with communicating so well with each other. 

You were bidding the last party in the restaurant goodbye with a wave and telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening before you grabbed the mason jar that held the bill, along with the tips. You walked over to the kitchen where Irene was counting all the money and placed the mason jar besides her, giving her a smile before walking over to the locker room. 

Harry was sitting on the bench with his phone in his hands, and looked up once you entered the room. 

“How was your first day?” He smiled. 

“It was actually really great. The energy here is amazing.” 

“Well, I’m glad. You’re a natural, and it helps both of us that you already have restaurant experience.” Harry completely put his phone away into his tote bag, giving you his attention, which you really admired. Some people would make small talk and quickly end the conversation to go back on their phones. “Where did you work before, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“I actually moved here from NorCal—San Francisco—just two weeks ago. But I worked at one of the restaurants at Pier 49. The restaurant was pretty small and we weren’t as busy as it was here, only on the weekends we would get a bit busy. So, this is definitely completely different than being outside and smelling the fresh ocean a few feet away,” you explained, chuckling. 

“Wow, SF, that’s quite the trip. But we’re glad to have you. I think you’re fitting right in.” 

“Thank you. I already like it here.” Harry gave you a warm smile, grateful that you had a great first day, and that Spring gave you a good first impression for you to stay. 

The two of you chatted a bit, talking about the customers you had and laughing at the jokes they made or the conversations they talked about. It was kind-hearted and fun, and a conversation that made you feel light; it wasn’t anything serious. It ended when it was time for closing, cleaning up and making sure everything was in order for tomorrow afternoon’s shift. 

Irene handed the staff their tips for the night, which you amounted for $120 for a Sunday night. It wasn’t bad for your first night of tips, and you knew you would be working a lot more since this was your only job and you weren’t doing anything else. 

As everyone walked outside into the staff parking lot, everyone said their goodbyes to one another, spreading apart and walking out to their vehicles. 

Once you opened your car door, Harry called out for you from the opposite side of where you parked. 

“Yeah?” You raised your brows. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He offered a smile before getting into his car and starting it, but he waited until you were safely inside of your car and out of the parking garage, and then he would leave. 

He couldn’t help but notice the smile that appeared onto your face before you got inside your car, and he couldn’t help but think about how incredibly beautiful you are. 

The entire week went on just like your first day. You were getting more comfortable with the flow of the restaurant, and where everything was. You continued shadowing Harry, but some days, he would let you serve your customers for the entire shift. 

Now that it was Friday evening, you couldn’t wait to relax the next day. You had told Irene that you were available all days of the week, and since you were new and still needed to complete training, she scheduled you for Sunday to Friday, getting Saturday off, which you appreciated. When you told yourself that you were able to work all day, you didn’t realize how exhausting and tiring that was until it came down to the end of the week as your feet ached, telling you to sit down for at least an entire day. 

Once it was closing time, you were finally able to catch a breath as you cleaned up part of the dining room. Chatter and laughter was heard from the kitchen quite loud as it echoed against the walls; you smiled, enjoying the sound of laughter, especially when it came from people you knew. 

As you were mindlessly wiping down tables, Harry walked up to you with two cocktails in his hands, smiling as he handed you one. You raised your brows, hesitant to take it from him as you wondered if it was allowed to drink since you were technically still on the clock. 

“Irene made them for us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said as if he read your mind. You breathed out a chuckle, taking a glass before thanking him and clinking your glass with his before taking a sip of the cold tequila drink. You sighed in relief, and Harry giggled. “Do you have any plans for tonight? I know it’s almost midnight, but I mean…you could still.” He felt his ears heat up, feeling a tad bit nervous when he was around you. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t really have any friends in SoCal, but I can't wait to go home and sleep.” 

“O-Oh okay, I was just gonna ask if you’d like to stay for a bit longer.” 

“Here? For what?” You asked curiously. 

“Well, the lot of us get together after night shifts to do a mini celebration at the end of the long and busy week. We only do it Fridays since that’s when most of us are working all together,” he said referring to the bunch laughing and talking in the kitchen. You did notice now that you had been working with the same group of people, and partially that was because you only mostly worked night shifts and so did the rest. “We usually stay for an hour—drink, eat, talk. It made us closer, actually, so I’d thought you might like to join since you’re new,” he invited.

You didn’t take long to think of an answer—to weigh out your choices of wanting to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable time or stay an extra hour and hang out with your coworkers. 

“I’d actually really love that, thank you,” you accepted his invitation with a sweet smile, making Harry’s heart pound just a tad bit harder against his chest. 

“Great! Well, come on into the kitchen when you’re done. The chefs are cooking up some food,” he said before he walked away, leaving you to finish up your tasks for the night, which didn’t take you any more than ten minutes to finish up. 

You walked into the kitchen and Harry immediately handed you a plate that you gladly took. Jet excitedly waved to you to go over to the stove so he could serve you. 

“Allergic to anything?” He asked to make sure you weren’t going into the emergency room tonight. 

“Uh, shellfish when it’s consumed. I’m okay to be around it, though.”

“Oh shit, this would not be good for you.” His eyes widened as he immediately dropped the large silver serving spoon of the lobster risotto; it looked absolutely delicious. “Good thing I’m prepared. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?” 

“Love.”

“Great!” He started plating your plate with the food before handing it back to you with an ‘enjoy!’ as you thanked him. 

Once everyone was satisfied, you all headed out to the dining table, settling on a large rectangle table comfortably. There were about twelve of you, and it seemed like everyone had assigned seats since they immediately went straight to their spot and placed their table or drink in front of it. 

You were a bit lost, not knowing where to sit, and the only person you’re reasonably close to was Harry, but it seemed like he was a bit preoccupied chatting with Quinn, another chef. 

“Y/N! Sit next to me, yeah?” Ivy, one of the waitresses called out for you. You smiled, thankful she was the one to ask you, and you gladly took a seat next to her. 

Harry took the seat in front of Ivy, diagonal from you, and he really wished he was the one sitting next to you. 

“Damn, I really should get a large circle table for all of us so we could see each other’s faces,” Irene suggested, and the group agreed, but everyone wondered where it would be placed since the restaurant had no space for another large table. 

Everyone broke out into their own conversations, chatting with one another freely and as loud as they wanted. 

“How was your first week here, Y/N?” Ivy asked. 

“It was great! I really love this place.” Harry looked at you as you talked with Ivy. He really could get lost just looking at your beauty, and sometimes, he would have to knock himself out of his glare to prevent him from getting caught. He was just so captivated by you, and it didn’t take a lot of effort for him to be so drawn to you. 

Ivy had definitely noticed Harry’s stare from the corner of her eye, and admittingly, she got jealous because she’s had a small crush on Harry ever since she started working at Spring four months ago. But it wasn’t like she was going to do anything about it because it seemed like he didn’t take interest in her, so she wasn’t going to force it. However, it didn’t slip past her that you occasionally glanced over at Harry as well—briefly averting your eyes towards him once he took a sip of his water or someone had pulled him out of his attention on you to make conversation. 

Gently pulling you by the arm, Ivy leaned over to whisper into your ear. “Harry’s totally crushing on you.” 

You pulled back, shocked. “What?” You mouthed. 

“He can’t stop looking at you—it’s so obvious.” You simply chuckled, shaking your head slightly as your cheeks felt warm, not from the alcohol or how close everyone was sitting, but because you couldn’t even believe that Harry would have a crush on you. Sure, you two had spent the entirety of your shifts together, but you didn’t think that he would have a crush on you. 

You tried not to think of Ivy’s words for the rest of the night, and you tried even harder to not look at Harry to catch it he was staring at you. Your thoughts seemed to make you more drunk when you were trying to sober up to drive back home. You only had three cocktails, which was quite mindless of you to be drinking when you had to drive home, but you simply wanted to have fun because you deserved it, and you were comfortable and making friends. And everyone seemed to be drinking as well as they were getting a ride from the more responsible ones who were driving and leaving their car in the parking garage during the night. 

Once everyone was all out of their social battery with their plates and glasses empty, you all started to clean up, helping one another to make the process of going home quicke; there were two people washing the dishes and two people drying as the rest put those dishes away and cleaned the table. 

Just like every single night, everyone said their goodbyes in the parking lot before going to their cars to head home for a good night's rest. 

You were sober, but you didn’t feel safe enough to drive, and you don’t know if that’s the alcohol or the thoughts of Harry making you dizzy. So, instead of walking to your car, you took out your phone and opened the Uber app, knowing you’d be able to get a ride home quickly since it was past midnight on a Friday night. 

“Hey, whatcha doing?” Harry asked, walking up to you once he noticed that you weren’t going to your car. He made it a habit to watch you get inside your car and leave the parking garage safely because anything could happen in the few minutes if he left before you. 

“I’m calling an Uber. I don’t wanna drive back…” you replied before looking down at your phone again.

“Oh, I could drive you home, if you’d like?” He offered politely. 

“Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. I would feel better knowing that I was the one that got you home safely.” The corners of your lips couldn’t help but turn up into a smile as your heart fluttered against your ribcage. 

“That’s really sweet, Harry, I’d like that,” you accepted. Harry grinned, leading you to his car as you followed; he walked over to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, which easily almost made your knees buckle in. How is he such a gentleman and so incredibly kind? You wondered, thinking about how rare it was to meet a man without anything leading to more than a conversation. 

You thanked him before getting into his car; his car was very clean and he had a Saturn air freshener that hung on his rearview mirror, admitting a fresh lemon scent throughout his vehicle. Harry got in, handing you his phone to play some music and to enter your address before starting the car and driving out of the parking garage. You played Daniel Caesar, which you thought was the perfect kind of music for a night drive since your place was fifteen minutes away from the restaurant. The two of you sang along to ‘Hold Me Down’ as he watched you from the corner of his eye, adorably swaying in your seat to the song as you muttered the lyrics. 

The sunroof cover was open, giving you an orange glow every time the car passed by a lamppost. Unconsciously, you both looked at one another every time the car stopped at a red light, both smiling at one another. You were thankful that it was dark out as it hid your big smile from how much you were giddy just looking at Harry. 

Once the navigation told him that your place was on the right, he parked against the curb in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled your seatbelt before turning towards him in your seat as he turned towards you as well. 

“Thank you for the ride, Harry. It was really kind of you to offer.” 

“Not a problem. Don’t be hesitant to ask again. I rarely drink when we have our after-hours dinners, so you’re free to drink all you want and I’ll be glad to take you home,” he told you, and you smiled, nodding your head. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. It’s just been a while since I drank and hung out with friends,” you explained. 

“No worries. I’m glad you had fun, I assumed?” 

“Yeah, lots of fun! I really like it there, and you made it bearable and fun as well as my trainer,” you admitted. Harry felt his cheeks slightly redden, and just as you were thinking, he was grateful it was dark out. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad. You’ll be on your own now. No need for me anymore since you’ve pretty much gotten everything done so quickly,” he chuckled, a dimple indenting his left cheek, making you hold in your breath. 

“Can I still ask you for help if I need you?” You asked innocently, leaning your elbow against the middle console as you rested your chin against your fist. Harry pursed in his lips as his mind focused on the last three words that slipped out of your mouth--I need you. It was merely an innocent question relating to work that he shouldn’t think too much about, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Of course. I’m always gonna be here if you need me,” he responded, keeping it friendly. At that, you smiled, nodding your head in acceptance. You gathered your belongings that rested at your feet before turning to face him again. Leaning forward, Harry thought you were leaning in to kiss him, which he wouldn’t mind whatsoever, but that dream was crushed when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, giving him a hug. He hugged you back, placing his hand against your back and slightly rubbing his hand up and down, hoping you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest at the feel of your upper body slightly pressed against him. 

You pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Drive safe, okay?” 

“Always do. Sleep well.” He bid you goodbye as you got out of his car, walking over to the entrance of your apartment complex. You turned around before you opened the door, waving at him before heading inside. 

Harry drove off to his place, the opposite direction of your apartment, passing Spring. He could’ve honestly been home already in the comfort of his bed, but he didn’t mind taking you home at all. That only meant he got to spend a bit of more time together, but he noticed that with every passing second, minute, and hour, he felt himself falling for you just a bit more. 

You’ve been at Spring for almost a month, and you couldn’t believe how fast the days went by. The more you worked, the more you started to feel a place at home with the restaurant. It was welcoming and fun, and all the credit was due to the people that you surrounded yourself with. You felt a difference in your attitude, your mood, and you liked the change that it brought you--you felt happy. 

Being in San Francisco your entire life was great up until it wasn’t. It was a toxic place for you simply because of the people that you were surrounded with. You noticed that you were always on fight-or-flight mode, ready for someone to make one comment at you so you could snap at them. You hated being and thinking like that, so the best thing you did for yourself was to move away from the toxicity of your hometown, and you were glad that you did. 

It was another usual Friday evening, after hours at Spring as you sat in your usual seat next to Ivy as the two of you and Harry were laughing about a story Ivy was telling about her ex-boyfriend in college. 

Harry looked over at you, heart swooning as he watched you laugh, wiping your under eyes from the tears that had slipped out. It was a beautiful sight, he’d say; you had such a beautiful smile and contagious laugh that he loved hearing, whether it’d be from the kitchen as he was in the dining room or in the locker room—wherever it was, he always smiled to himself when he heard it. 

The two of you had gotten quite close, making the work environment bearable and fun. When you would be in the same area at the same time, you had this thing where you would bump his hip with yours lightly, and he would bump yours right back—of course, when there weren’t any food or drink handling. There would always be light conversations within those hip bumps, comfortably getting to know one another, whether it would be asking quick-fire questions or a random story about one another’s lives that would come to mind. It wasn’t an ordinary setting or time to get to know each other, but it made things fun because the two of you would come up with more questions to come up with the next time he bumped into you. It was nice having a thing with you, he thought. 

There would be moments during those little meetings when your fingers would brush delicately against his, sending shivers to his body. It was simply overwhelming in the best way possible. 

Everyone called it a night, doing the nightly routine of tidying and cleaning everything up. Despite the long shift and being on your feet, you still had quite a bit of energy that you would like to use up so you could get a night’s rest. You looked at your friends, seeing if anyone was up for a late night adventure just based off of their posture and how often they yawned, and it seemed like everyone was exhausted, for obvious reasons. But you’d ask one person before you decide to go alone. 

Once everything was clean and ready for the Saturday’s brunch, everyone walked out of the restaurant, walking over to their cars. 

“Hey, Harry?” You called out, making him instantly turn around at the sound of your voice. 

“Yeah, love?” The pet name had merely slipped out, and you felt your face getting warm, shyly smiling. 

“Uh, you could totally say no and I would completely understand why because it’s Friday night, and we had a long shift, and you must be tired-”

“Y/N?” You stopped talking, raising your brows. “Breath, yeah? Take your time,” he interrupted the rambling that you hadn’t known you were doing. 

Nodding, you took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were nervous, but every time you were around Harry, he just made you feel a certain swarm of butterflies entering your stomach. 

“I’m not as tired as I thought, and I wanna end tonight with some sweets. So, would you like to come with me to get some dessert? Again, you could say no.” 

Harry smiled. “I’d love to,” he replied with no second thought. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course. Plus, we could finally talk properly. Hate always walking away from our unfinished conversations.” He breathed out a chuckle, running his clad ring hand through his curls. 

“Great! Oh, uh, do you mind if we take your car? I took an Uber here, but I’ll compensate with buying you cookies and paying for your gas,” you suggested, keeping your excitement at bay. 

“No worries, c’mon. But I might take you up on the cookie offer.” He smiled, opening your door for you, which never failed to make you swoon. 

As he started the car, warming up the engine and turning the heater on, you two debated on where to go. You suggested going to Insomnia Cookies in Santa Monica, which was a twenty minute drive from Downtown LA, and it closed at two In the morning, but only if he was down to drive the opposite direction of where you two lived. And luckily, he didn’t mind the drive because he was always down for a late night drive and adventure, especially if it was with you. 

The car speakers played Frank Ocean, he merged on the 101, tapping his fingers along with the beat against the steering wheel. You subtly studied him as he drove, just as you did when you would glance at him across the restaurant. He always mindlessly curled his pink lips into his mouth, a habit that he, assumingly, had for years. You noticed how he would always play with his rings; his thumb would reach over to his other fingers to play with the heavy, metal rings; not helping that your mind would instantly go to what else his hands could do, especially to you, to your body, but you had to immediately snap yourself out of your thoughts to prevent them from going any further. Not to mention, the way his eyes always lit up; they had a natural gleam to them, making them incredibly irresistible to not look in his green eyes. 

He was captivating in all the right ways, and you felt yourself falling for him quite quickly, making that fear inside of you light up, inflaming your body with anxiousness. 

Your thoughts soon vanished when Harry pulled into a parking space in front of your destination, and he turned off the car. He turned to look at you, giving you a small smile before getting out. You decided to buy Harry anything he’d like, which he got the same six pack of cookies as you. 

Harry suggested eating in his car, which you agreed. Although the cold in SoCal wasn’t the same coldness as it was in NorCal, you didn’t want to stand around and freeze. The two of you make light conversation, talking about social media and enjoying the warmth of the fresh baked cookies. You then realized that you hadn’t followed him on Instagram, so you asked for his username, which was just his first and last name. 

“Your pictures are amazing,” you complimented.

“Stalking me already?” He teased. A smirk on his face present, making you roll your eyes as you didn’t know if you wanted to slap or kiss the smirk off—always wanting to go for the latter. “But thank you. I, uh, I actually took those myself.” Your eyes brightened. The photographs posted on his Instagram were mostly portraits of beautiful people, some of them were landscapes of a field or the mountains, but most of them were portraits. You knew very little about photography, thanks to the ‘Beginning of Photography 1’ class that you took in college, but you could see the depth of the picture and the way they’re taken; the emotion was clearly there, making you feel intensity through the picture. 

“Wow, you’re really talented, Harry.”

He blushed, looking down at his lap for a moment before looking back up at you again. “Thank you so much. I’m a freelance photographer.”

“Do you plan on leaving Spring to focus solely on photography?” You asked curiously. He softly smiled; he could hear the genuine tone in your voice, and he really appreciated that. 

“I’m not sure. I’ll have an appointment, maybe, three or four times a month? But the restaurant brings in more money, especially the tips,” he explained. 

You nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re extremely talented, and one day, you’ll be at the place you want to be. Everything will work out.” Harry smiled in appreciation of your words, not saying anything else. 

Taking another bite of his cookie, he changed the subject. “So, do you miss any of your friends in SF?” 

You raised your brows, not expecting that question, but you answered honestly. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t. A month before moving here,” you began to open up vulnerably; you hadn’t spoken to anyone about this. “I got out of a long relationship—quite toxic, honestly,” you said, looking at him. He had this look on his face that was so comforting, not a word coming out of his mouth, asking for details; it didn’t tell you that he was nosy or pressing you to tell him more. It simply told you that he was there to listen, whenever you were ready to tell him, and you really appreciated that. 

You hadn’t realized how hard it was talking about your past relationship because it had been all bottled up until now.  A deep breath came out of your mouth, and Harry immediately realized that it must’ve been a hard subject to speak about. Unexpected to you, he reached over to grab your hand, holding it gently as his thumb caressed your skin. He hoped he masked his nervousness well, making the smallest physical touch with you when, really, his pulse was hammering against his veins, heart pounding through his chest as his breathing began to feel erratic, but outside he remained cool, calm, and collected as if the touch didn’t drive him insane. 

You tried not letting Harry’s thumb, caressing the back of your hand, affect your ability to speak a coherent sentence, so you continued. “Uh, my ex was cheating on me with someone in our friend group. He told me not to worry about her, but you know how that goes when you hear that phrase. It was with a girl that I used to date—my first relationship, actually. The worst part of it was when I found out, I took him back when he promised he wouldn’t do it again and claimed that he loved me, and then I took him back again, and again and again.” 

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to not let the hand holding yours squeeze tightly so the blood circulation cuts off because he felt angry. He was so mad because how could anyone do that to you? Sweet, kind, and lovely you? 

“When I told him I couldn’t handle it anymore—all the lies, cheating, and betrayal—I broke up with him. Our friend group turned against me, completely ignored me. Now that I think about it, I noticed they started to be cold and rude towards me once they started sneaking around, and I have no clue why because I didn’t do anything to them. Guess they were just covering up for them because everyone knew except me, and I just felt so stupid because I was so clueless to think he ever loved me to forgive him so many times.” 

You started to sniffle as the bad memories that you lived through for the few months of the betrayal started to come up again. You were doing a good job not thinking about it when you started working at the restaurant, and you didn’t plan on telling Harry tonight, but you trusted him to let go of all the agony that you bottled up inside your mind. 

“Hey, come here,” he said, opening his arms up. You gladly rested your head against his shoulders, wishing the middle console wasn’t there so you could press your body against his. He hands rubbed your back just as it did when you first hugged him, and to say that you hadn’t been craving for his touch was a complete lie. “You’re not stupid whatsoever. I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make you stupid. It makes them stupid for betraying your trust and forgiveness over and over again. You’re not in the wrong here nor was it your fault, love.” 

You nodded against his shoulder, and you felt him place the side of his face against the top of your head, cuddling up to you, which immediately put a smile on your face. Harry’s comfort had immediately made you feel better—it made you feel safe. You hadn’t felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms in a very long time, and considering that you’ve only known him for a month, you’d say it’s quite unbelievable how comfortable you are in his hold, especially opening up to him like you did. 

Pulling back from his hold, you looked up at him, giving him a smile. The weight on your shoulders suddenly felt lighter once you opened the bottle and poured out the contents in it. Talking to Harry was refreshing, a fresh breath of air, and you inhaled the crisp oxygen gratefully, knowing that being vulnerable and opening up had changed your friendship. 

It was Sunday evening, and you were cleaning up to prepare for closing. It had been a long day, even though you only worked for four hours; it just seemed that you were running around more than usual. 

But you were glad that the day was over, and you could take a long nice shower to end your night. Throughout cleaning, your coworkers had said goodbye, leaving through the back door, which you found odd because everyone usually heads out at the same time, but you didn’t think too much of it. 

Once you were done in the dining room, you looked around, finding the restaurant completely empty, but everything seemed to be in order, so you headed over to the locker room. 

When you rounded around the counter top and into the kitchen, Harry jumped up from his crouched position, startling you as you took a step back, gasping with your hand over your heart. 

“Holy shit, you scared me,” you said breathlessly. 

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I thought you still knew I was here.” 

“I thought I was completely alone, and hiding behind the counter doesn’t help.” You and Harry laughed. You hadn’t noticed the two plates of food and wine glasses that were filled with sparkling soda sitting next to him on the stainless steel counter, and you wondered for a moment if that was for you and him. “What’s that for?” 

“For us, if you’d like. I made it quickly once everything was slow and we were starting to close,” he said shyly, rubbing his tattooed forearm. 

Your brows raised, eyes widening slightly. “You made this? For us?”

“Yeah. Today marks one month being here, so I decided to make dinner to celebrate.” You were quite speechless at the thought; it was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful that Harry went through that trouble of making a meal to celebrate a somewhat significant date. Tears started to well up in your eyes, making the man in front of you blurry. “Oh, wait, no. Please don’t cry. You could definitely take this to-go, if you want! I know you’re probably tired, but-”

Harry was cut off by your arms wrapping around his shoulders. He was taken back at first from the impact of your body crashing against his, but once he regained his balance, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. 

Your scent was impeccable—quite alluring for running around for a few hours. He knew he smelled like food, the smoke from garlic and onions sautéing, and vegetables cooking. He buried his head into your shoulder, holding you close. This had been the first time you two were ever hugging outside of the comfort and safety of his car—no middle console to interfere, no awkwardness in trying to figure out how to give a proper hug in a confined space. He enjoyed it a lot—the way your body was pressed up against his. It made him happy, it made him feel safe. 

The intimate moment lasted for a few minutes, simply just hugging one another in relief in the kitchen, swaying slightly as complete silence surrounded the two of you. 

Once you were satisfied (although you think you would never be satisfied enough if you’re not in his arms), you pulled away, coming face-to-face with him. Your cheeks were slightly damped from the few tears that had fallen out, but weirdly, it gave you a natural and happy glow, and you were feeling exactly that. 

“Harry, thank you so much. This is the sweetest and most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me.” You looked up at him through your wet lashes, warmly smiling at him. 

“You’re welcome. Shall we eat?” You nodded, and he unwrapped his arms from around your waist, letting you go, which he wished he hadn’t. He grabbed the two heavy plates that were filled with honey garlic chicken with sautéed spinach and mushroom on a bed of rice, and you grabbed the glasses, reaching over to place them onto the countertop before the two of you walked around to sit on the high stools. 

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, and you thanked and complimented him for the lovely meal. There was light conversation, asking questions about each other’s childhood. Listening to Harry talk about his life in England was so fascinating to you, and you wished that you had grown up with him because he seemed like such a fun and kind kid to play with. You learned that his sister and mom were back home in London, and they visited every six months, and he would occasionally go back home as well, if the bills weren’t stacking up and he was good with money. His words and mind seemed to get the best of him, slipping out about how much they would love you and that he’ll invite you to lunch whenever they visit to meet them; and he hoped he didn’t freak you out. You simply blushed, nodding your head, and not saying anything else. 

The more you talked to him, the more you found yourself staring at him as you listened to what he had to say. You’d come to terms a few weeks ago that you really liked his eyes—how green they were, and how they stare into you, giving you his full attention. You liked his hands, his hair, his nose, his cheeks, and most of all, you liked his lips. You couldn’t blame alcohol for these thoughts because Harry replaced wine with sparkling soda, so these were completely sober thoughts racing your mind. His lips were something you glanced at often, trying not to glare at them too much as he talked as you didn’t want to get caught for admiring them. They were so pink, and he occasionally bit them and curled them into his mouth, making them pinker. You liked when he would take his fingers and pinch his bottom lip, a habit that he seemed to form throughout his life. You suddenly wanted to kiss him—really, really bad. 

You shook off the thought immediately, being completely sidetracked with your infatuation with Harry. Was it an infatuation? No, you knew the feelings you felt for him felt much stronger than a simple admiration for your coworker. 

Once the talking had died down and the plates were empty, you and Harry decided to clean up. You quickly took both of your plates, beating Harry to the sink to wash the dishes. He chuckled as he watched you fast walk towards the sink; he soon followed with the glasses, placing them carefully into the sink. He decided to dry the dishes, finding the dish rag on your right side. So, he leaned over, placing his left hand on your waist, chest slightly pressed against your back as he grabbed the rag. You turned your head to the right, dropping your shoulder to turn more of your body towards him. He was close and it made you feel flushed; you felt your  cheeks heating up once he looked down at you, faces inches away from each other. 

You turned back around, quickly placing the last dish on the counter before you turned off the water. Harry was still close in proximity, not making any effort to move away from you. Turning around, your back was now pressed up against the edge of the sink. Harry rested his hands against the edge, trapping you with his arms. Your breath began to deepen, heart beating quite harshly against your chest as Harry looked into your eyes, briefly glancing at your lips, and slowly trailing them back up into your eyes. He brought one hand to graze the side of your face gently, skin prickling with goosebumps. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented honestly. 

“Thank you, you are too.” 

“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Listen, I-I really like you, and we haven’t known each other for long but I just…can’t get enough of you,” You smiled, averting your eyes to his lips before looking back up; your cheeks and neck felt incredibly warm from his confession. Bodily, you placed your hands on his waist, pulling him towards you to close the gap between you two; Harry smirked at your action, liking the way your bodies were pressed up against each other. 

“Are you gonna do anything about it?” You raised your brows curiously. 

“What would you like me to do?” His hands were rubbing up and down your back soothingly. 

“Hmm…a few things actually,” you muttered—more to yourself but Harry definitely heard from how close you two physically were. Your fingertips were mindlessly drawing circles on his lower back where his slightly wrinkled white shirt was tucked into his black jeans. 

“Care to share?” 

You took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes that captivated you quite clearly. “Want you to kiss me.” 

The corner of his lip turned up as he curled his lips into his mouth. “Can I please? Been wanting to for so long.” 

“Tell me.” Harry raised his brows. “Tell me how long you’ve been wanting to kiss me.” 

He curled his lips into his mouth, looking down at your soft lips before back up at your eyes. “Ever since I saw you for the first time. So, please let me kiss you. Do you want me to?” 

Harry quite literally took your breath away, breath stuck in your throat before you cleared it. Nodding your head quite eagerly, you softly said, “Yeah, want you to.” 

With that, he trailed his hands from your waist, up your spine, to your shoulders, and up to your face where he placed his hands on both sides, gently holding your face delicately as if it were a piece of art that was crafted for months, years; he didn’t want to drop or break the precious masterpiece that he cradled with his hands. 

His thumb caressed your soft cheek, giving your lips one last look before he leaned in and connected your lips with his. You sighed deeply once you felt his soft lips touch yours, and your shoulder visibly relaxed, letting go of everyone that may have held you back. 

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him in closer. A spark ran through your body as your lips molded together so perfectly in sync, making the firework inside of you pop into a beautiful and magical scene. 

Whimpering against his mouth, you suddenly wanted more of him; he was, in all ways, addicting. You unconsciously lifted your right leg, bringing it up to his hip, making Harry press himself against your core, holding your thigh. He started to feel himself harden inside of his pants from the way you’re kissing him, the way your hands gripped his hair, and the way your tongue effortlessly swiveled against his. 

You pulled away from his lips quite breathlessly, lips swollen. “Want you.” 

“Me too—want you so bad.” He leaned forward to kiss you again, and once he did, you pulled away, only leaving him with a small kiss to his lips. Harry pouted, making you chuckle. 

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” you confessed. 

Harry smirked. “Well, I’ll be glad to do it again.” 

“Wanna get out of here? C-Can we go to yours?” You asked shyly. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “You sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

Harry gave you a smile and another kiss before he backed away, grabbing your hand to lead you to the locker room where the two of you grabbed your belongings from your lockers. Quickly after, you two were out the door of Spring; Harry locked up, and walked you two over to his car where he, yet again, opened the passenger door for you. 

The entire ten minute drive to his apartment, his hand never left yours. It delicately sat on your thigh with your hand on top of his, palm against the back of his hand as your fingers intertwined with his. Harry found it difficult to drive properly because all he ever wanted to do was either kiss you or look at you, and since it was just a bit after midnight, he hit all the green lights, so there was continuous driving and less kissing and looking. But that just made it quicker for him to get to his place. 

His apartment was on the second floor, which didn’t take long to get to, but catching up to Harry’s long strides as he practically dragged you up the stairs—no patience to wait for the elevator—was tiring you out. 

Once his front door closed, he immediately pushed you up against it, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly. You practically could feel him smiling into the kiss, happy to have his lips on yours, and it completely tied your stomach into knots as the familiar flutter you felt in your chest made itself present. 

You’d come to realize, in the kitchen, that kissing Harry was everything you ever imagined. His soft lips molding and connecting with yours so perfectly made all of your dreams and realities come true. He just had a way with how he worked his lips as well as where to put his hands. But you were eager to find out what else he could do. 

Harry was the one to pull away first, which he even surprised himself with, but he led you to his bedroom, which you were too excited about. He closed his bedroom door, taking your lips in with his again, backing you up against his bed as he gently placed you on top of it, hovering over you. 

His lips trailed to your cheek, your jaw, and down to your neck where he lightly nibbled and sucked on your soft skin. You felt him lick your skin, soothing out the small love bite that he left on your skin before he pulled his head from your neck. 

“You sure you want to do this? I’d be happy just kissing you.” 

You smiled. “I’m sure, wanna touch you. You’re sure too?” You asked consent from him as well, making his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Very sure, love. You have no idea.” He sat on his knees as you laid below him, and he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so beautiful as you do; he was completely enthralled by your beauty. “Can I take this off?” He referred to your shirt, playing with the buttons on the front. You nodded, biting your lip. 

He leaned his weight on one side of you, placing one arm behind your head as you rested against it. He took your mouth in with his as his other hand began unbuttoning your white shirt, impressively with one hand. Once he got to the bottom, he sat up again, as did you to take off your shirt and your sports bra. You didn’t wear anything sexy to work because you wanted to be comfortable while waiting tables. 

Harry looked at your bare torso, licking his lips before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and licking the pebbled bud before switching to the other. His lips then placed small kisses down your body and to the hem of your pants, where he looked up to see you flushed from just his kisses. 

“Harry…” you whined. 

“What is it, beautiful?” He smirked. 

“Please, take it off.” 

“I’m getting there, love, don’t worry.” A breathy chuckle came out of his mouth before he unbuttoned your trousers. Your hips raised off the bed, and he swiftly took them off, leaving you in your nude seamless underwear. “Fuck, you’re so stunning, Y/N, I swear.” You looked at him and smiled; you were clearly at loss for words because of how Harry was looking at you. He wasn’t looking at you with complete admiration, like he was so lost in his daze of his sight. And that thought made you even more aroused. 

He gave you another kiss to your stomach before taking off your underwear, situating himself in between your legs, lying on his stomach. Harry looked up once more to find you staring at him, eager to watch what he’s about to do; he placed a kiss to your inner thighs, gently nibbling on your flesh, making you squirm. 

“Harry, please. Need to feel you,” you pleaded, brows crinkling. 

“Tell me what you need,” he teased, earning an impatient scoff from you, but Harry chuckled at your frustration. 

“Need your mouth on me. Please, want you to eat me out already.” 

Now, who was he to deny that request? So, that’s what he did—he slowly licked your clit multiple times before licking into your hole, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He used your wetness to lubricate your clit, completely assaulting your sensitive bud. Your back arched as the sensations ran through your body, hands gripping the sheets below you tightly that they practically wrinkled. Harry moaned against your clit, making you buck your hips into his face. 

“Fuck, Harry…” you dragged out, throwing your head back into the pillows. 

For a few minutes, Harry continued devouring your taste, not stopping until you came all over his mouth and you were completely shocked by his will to not stop until you’ve had your orgasm from his tongue. 

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly entering your wet hole as he fingered you. You moaned louder; the tips of his fingers curling up to meet the softness of your upper walls. His unoccupied thumb rubbed your clit in slow circles, something that he noticed you really liked based on your hips thrusting upwards and your hand gripping his hair harder that it felt like you were going to rip out his locks. 

“So pretty, love. So wet for me.” The simplicity of his words had made you feel the familiar bubble in your lower stomach, and you wanted to release it so bad. 

“Harry, I’m gonna…cum,” you groaned out, biting your lips. 

He continued his pace on your clit, but added a tad bit more pressure, causing you to jolt a little. His fingers that were inside of you repeatedly brushed your g-spot, making you close your legs, but Harry pried them open, encouraging you to release. 

“C’mon, baby. Want you—need you to cum for me. Can you do that? Can you give me what I want?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, mouth ajar as your voice was hitched in your throat. A few more thrust and rubs from his fingers, and you hit your high, releasing around his long fingers as he slowed his movements, riding out your orgasm while praising you for your peak. 

“That’s it. There you go.” One of his hands rubbed your stomach, calming you down while the other hand gently played and cupped your pussy as you unconsciously and slightly thrusted your hips into his hand. 

Once you had relaxed, you opened your eyes; Harry was kissing up your body before he kissed your lips so sweetly. 

“Hmm, you’re so good at that.” He smiled, kissing your neck as he started to rut his hips on your thigh. You felt his hard on through his pants, and you knew that wasn’t comfortable whatsoever. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He pulled his head from your neck, facing you as he was about to say it was completely fine if you didn’t, but you spoke up first. “That can’t be comfortable, and I wanna touch you—if you’d let me.” You were looking at him with innocent eyes, even though he knew what you were about to do was going against anything innocent. Plus, the way you were looking at him only made him more aroused.

“Course, let me just get out of these.” He got off the bed, but stayed closed; he was about to unbutton his shirt, but you stopped him quickly, replacing his hands with yours. Harry dropped his arms to his side once your lips were attached to his neck, giving him a small hickey on the underside of his jaw. The feel of just your lips on his skin made him bite his lips as a chill ran through him. You sat on your knees and started unbuttoning his white shirt, and with every button you undid, you gave him a kiss to every bit of his skin that was left exposed until you reached the hem of his pants. 

You looked up at him on all fours, and he watched you press another kiss to his tattooed torso. “Mind if I take these off?” You toyed with the hem of his pants. 

“No, please, don’t mind at all.” You smiled, looking back at his bulge, which outlined through the fabric of his pants. You palmed him, making him hiss through his teeth. He hadn’t felt another person’s touch in so long, so your lips and touch felt overwhelming in the best way. 

You unbuttoned his pants, which he was fast to get out of, leaving him in his black briefs. You positioned yourself to lay flat on your stomach, thankful that Harry’s bed was the perfect height to where you don’t have to strain your neck to suck on him. Kissing down his happy trail, you left a prominent love bite in between his tattooed leaves that were so perfectly inked on his lower abdomen. You then kissed his hard length through his briefs, making Harry breathe heavily. He’s never felt so teased in his life, but you were making it all worth it because nobody had ever made him feel so aroused. 

Finally, your fingers gripped the hem of his briefs and tugged them down so his cock could departure from the strained material. He was big, and you knew that from when he was driving to his place earlier as his cock was pushing against his pants, making you excited and eager. But seeing it right in front of you made you salivate. 

“Holy shit, you’re so big.” All he did was smirk at your words, knowing that fact quite clearly. You grabbed a hold of him as you held his dick upwards before you licked the underside from base to tip. Harry breathed in through his nose once he felt the smallest bit of contact from your mouth. 

Your mouth began to work on his tip, sucking and licking up the precum that had spilled out of his tip before you started to take more and more of him in your mouth. It was Harry’s turn to fill the room with his raspy and deep moan, and the noise he was making was triggering your arousal. Harry had a full view of your mouth on him as well as a great view of your entire backside, not missing the way he noticed how you started to subtly move your hips into the sheets. 

As you sucked on him, taking him further into your mouth, Harry dragged his fingers from your shoulders, down your spine, and to your ass that was out in the open with no shame whatsoever. His hands kneaded your flesh before slapping on cheek, which made you moan around him. 

“Like that?” He went back to his standing position, leaning back a tad bit to get a good look at you. “Tell me, do you like that?” You looked up at him, making direct eye contact with him as your cheeks hollowed and you sucked hard around him before letting out a ‘mhm.’ Your mouth was working wonders on him while your hand was fondling and playing with his balls, making him throw his head back and accidentally bucking his hips up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, sorry, baby.” He moved your hair to check up on you, but all you did was place your hands on his ass and pulled him towards you until your nose touched his pubic bone. Harry let out a throaty moan, and your hands pushed and pulled his lower body until he understood what you were doing. 

So, he took control, holding your head steady before he slowly started to thrust into your mouth; the tip of his cock brushed against the back of your throat. There was a string of spit that was dangling from your mouth and connecting to his balls—a sight so filthy but helped him get right on the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum. Love your mouth so much. So beautiful for me, so perfect.” Harry’s hips began to jerk sloppily, indicating that he was close. With just a few more thrusts into your perfect mouth, he spilled down your throat as he stopped thrusting, keeping you halfway on him. A series of curses and your name came from his lips as he shut his eyes. You took every drop that he offered, trying to swallow every bit of content as best as you could, but some of it had spilled out of your mouth due to how much he overfilled your mouth with his cum. 

Harry seemed to be in the middle of calming down from his intense orgasm, so you took the time to clean up. Pulling back, you wiped your mouth and licked your fingers as well as cleaning his cock with your mouth. What you didn’t notice was that Harry was watching you the entire time; he lowered his head, neck straining from looking up too much, and saw you eagerly cleaning and licking every last drop that had fallen from your pretty lips. The sight was enough to make him hard again if he wasn’t too spent. 

He collapsed on his bed next to you, his head was next to your ass, to which he pressed a small kiss to your hip in gratitude. You moved to lay your head on his stomach, looking at him and giving him a small smile. 

“Come here. What are you looking at me like that for?” He reached out for you, and you moved again, resting your elbow next to his head before giving him a kiss. The kiss didn’t deepen any further, just molding your lips with one another as he tasted himself on your tongue. 

“Nothing. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself.” 

“Very much did, thank you. Did you? You could be honest with me.” 

You giggled. “Honestly…I had a really great time. You made me feel really good. The best I’ve felt in a really long time,” you told him honestly, and Harry smiled at that. 

“Do you want to stay the night? I’m always in a cuddly mood after anything sexual—well, I’m always in a cuddly mood, period.” You laughed, nodding your head before kissing his cheek. 

“I’d love to. Can I use your restroom, and do you have a spare toothbrush?” 

Harry nodded, getting off the bed before leading you to his bathroom where he gave you a toothbrush and some of his face wash. He left you to do your business and told you that he would have a change of clothes. 

Once you were done, you walked out of his bathroom, still naked, and was met with Harry in a pair of gray briefs and a change of his clothes in his hands, handing them to you. He gave you a kiss to your forehead before going off to the bathroom and leaving you to change. 

You replayed the evening in your mind over and over again as you changed—you really enjoyed his company and him as a person. Harry was a more than nice guy, who seemed to like you for whatever reason, and you liked him too. Maybe a bit too much, and you felt like you liked him more than you projected—dare, you say that you were falling in love. But you couldn’t let yourself feel that way; you were beating yourself up for it. In all honesty, you were scared, so you had a habit of not portraying the entirety of your feelings out on the table so people could perceive it. 

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts in your head, repeating and spitting out every insecurity that your previous ‘friends’ had told you in the past—calling you a slut and how you couldn’t keep anyone around because they both ended up cheating on you. Your head was telling you Harry would do the same, and as hard as you were trying to deny that because Harry was the kindest person you’ve ever met, it was all you could hear. You couldn’t do this, no, you couldn’t feel like this, you thought. You felt like you needed to protect yourself before you were in too deep. 

Without even knowing, you were frantically grabbing your clothes and shoes that were all thrown across Harry’s floor. Your heart was racing, mind telling you to ‘leave’ and that ‘nobody is going to love you,’ so that’s what you were doing, leaving. 

You made it out of his bedroom, so close to the front door until you realized you had forgotten your purse. Turning around to go back, you were met with Harry leaning against the frame of the hallway entry, holding your purse in his hands. 

“Not planning on saying goodbye?” His voice sounded defeated, the complete opposite as to what it was prior. He looked down at his feet, not even able to make eye contact with you when he was always keen on making direct eye contact when talking to someone, but seeing you walk out his bedroom door when you were supposed to be waiting for him in his bed to cuddle was heartbreaking. 

“Harry…”

“That’s all it was to you, I’m guessing? You know you could’ve said no to staying the night, I would’ve understood. But to say yes after we’ve been intimate, and getting my hopes up? I-I thought you liked me, that’s all, and I’m stupid for falling for it,” he ended with a scoff. He felt extremely vulnerable; he laid his feelings out on the table, let you see his body, and it seemed like you just picked and chose your cards straight from the deck to only have Harry fold. 

“No, that’s not it-”

“Then please tell me what it is before I drive myself into the wall thinking what I’ve done wrong!” He raised his voice—not too loud where it startled you, but enough to where he simply let out his frustrations. 

“I like you, Harry, I do. But we can’t be together.” You didn’t know how to put it into words, so that was the best you could come up with. 

“And why’s that?” He furrowed his brows, walking towards you, but keeping a safe distance. “Give me a good reason why, and I’ll let you go—I’ll leave you alone. We’ll simply be coworkers who don’t talk to each other. I’ll-”

“I’m scared, okay! I’m scared because I cannot fall in love with you, even though I’m already in too deep. I’ve done it once and i-it hurt me.” You were on the verge of bawling, maintaining your emotions. “I-I cannot feel this way so soon—fresh out of a relationship…I’ve only known you for, what? A month? We barely even know each other, Harry-”

“See, now, that’s where you’re wrong. You think I don’t know you, but I bet that you know I know you quite well. Probably more than all of your bitchy friends back home who you’ve known for years.” You stayed silent, not knowing how to respond, but he was right, he did know you better than anyone you knew back in SF. “If I didn’t know you then I wouldn’t know that your favorite thing to eat while you were growing up was chocolate croissants. Your favorite color often switches every few days, but some of them are, and specifically: maroon, evergreen, mustard yellow, burnt orange, and beige. You love watching kids cooking competitions in your free time and often root for the one who is doing miserably and knows who won’t make it to the next round. You’re learning how to bake, which is what you said that you’ve always wanted to learn out to make proper pastries, and based on what you bring to work for us to try, you’re on the right path to being a baker.” 

“I’m…” you were at a loss for words, tears lining your eyes. All of the questions and playful conversation you and Harry had during work had come around in his words; it showed that Harry really listened, and when he did, he didn’t forget every detail you’ve told him. Your heart felt like it was in your stomach, making your stomach flutter in giddiness and shock. 

“I could go on, honestly, but it would be an entire list of things that I’ve remembered about you.” Harry softly smiled down at his feet. “All I’m saying is this: I like to think I know the basics of you, and I still have a lot to learn about you. But don’t run away from me, please. If you want to and you don’t want anything to do with me, that’s fine, but I can’t let you walk out without trying not to stop you.” He sighed, completely putting himself out there as he was practically begging you to stay. “I really like you, Y/N, I mean it. I don’t care if we’ve only known each other for a month. I don’t care that you just got out of a relationship. I mean if you’re still in love with him or have a bit of interest in him still, then that’s different-”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, shaking your head no. It was the truth; you hadn’t felt love for your ex in a really long time, and you simply stayed with him and kept forgiving him just because it was comfortable. 

“Okay…” 

“It’s just…I don’t want people to think I’m some kind of person who moves on from relationships so quickly. I-I mean, I didn’t come here just to find myself in another relationship, y’know?” Your tone was concerning, like all of your worries were piling up into one big stack that made your head hurt from thinking too much. 

“No one’s gonna think that—I don’t think that. Besides, it isn’t any of their business.” Harry walked even closer to you, inches away as his hands grazed your upper arms. “Let me ask you something, does this feel right? Being with me?” You nodded with no hesitation. “Say it,” he instructed, wanting to hear the words come out of your mouth. 

“This feels right.” 

Harry smiled at you comfortingly. “Okay, then let it be right.” 

“I’m scared,” you admitted, looking down. He lifted your chin up with the soft touch of his fingertips, goosebumps littered your skin with just his simple touch. 

“Me too, but I’m doing surprisingly well at hiding it. We’ll go slow, okay? No pressure into labeling; let’s just go with the flow, alright?” He suggested, and you softly muttered an ‘okay,’ reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, giving him a warm and grateful hug. 

“I’m so sorry-” you said into his shoulder, but he quickly cut you off. 

“No need to be sorry, I understand.” His understanding makes you even more soft as you hugged him tighter; a few tears slipped your eyes, streaming down Harry’s shoulder. 

After a moment, the two of you pulled away, feeling so much relief from the hug and conversation. 

“Is your offer on staying the night still up?” You asked hesitantly.

He smiled. “Yeah, it always is. C’mon.” He took you by the hand, leading you to his room and into his bed—not for the actions of pleasure, but for a nice and comforting cuddle. 

You situated yourself on his chest, comfortably trailing your fingers up and down his skin as his arm was wrapped around your shoulder. 

Lifting your head up to meet his face, he smiled at you before you gave him a sweet kiss to his lips. It didn’t lead to anything, it didn’t even deepen; just the feel of his soft, pink lips on yours was enough to make you feel bliss. 

You pulled away. “Slow?” Harry chuckled, nodding his head. 

“Slow.” 

Your face warmed up as you smiled, cheeks aching; you positioned yourself back onto his chest for the night, taking up all of his space on the bed when your side was completely empty as you held him close. Even though you’ve only known him for a month, you felt yourself falling; because ultimately, it felt right. 

please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles ff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles #hs

[malfoysstilinski]

flower crowns | draco malfoy

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: it’s the first sunny day of the year and you want to spend it outside with draco. he wants to make you a flower crown.

a/n: shout out to everybody else in the uk rn that’s had to deal with this shitty weather since september and is now in a third lockdown :))) these are the vibes we all need rn i think

It felt as though it hadn’t been sunny in years. You were used to the bleak weather that Britain provided nearly all year round, but it didn’t stop you from jumping out of your bed as soon as you saw nothing but sunshine peeking through the high windows of your dorm room.

“It’s sunny!” You gasped, “Oh, Merlin— Hannah, please tell me it’s as warm as it looks outside!”

Hannah Abbott glanced up from her book where she’d risen early. “I think so. It’s been getting warmer all week.”

You squealed, your roommates exchanging glances with each other as you rushed into the bathroom to get ready for your Saturday off from classes. You did have homework that needed to be done, but it could wait. You were not wasting the first nice day cooped up in the castle.

After showering and changing into one of your favourite summer dresses, you bounded back into the dormitory room and found your friends all slowly starting to get ready for the day.

“Anyone fancy going down to the Black Lake?” Susan Bones asked, “I heard a bunch of the Gryffindors are going down if the weather turned out nice today and Ernie mentioned joining them.”

A chorus of excited replies came from everybody else, but you smiled politely.

“I’ll have to ask Draco what he wants to do. He doesn’t really get along much with some of the Gryffindors,” you said, applying some makeup and then slipping on your shoes.

Hannah huffed. “Fine. I don’t know what you see in him, Y/N. You’re way too soft for someone like Draco Malfoy.”

Raising your eyebrows, you smiled. “There are many sides to Draco you’ve never met. I can assure you that there are billions of reasons why I’m with him.”

None of the girls said anything as you bid them a farewell before pulling open the door to your dorm. Wandering through the bright common room, which seemed to thrive with the sunshine pouring through it, you waved and greeted some of your peers, the smell of sunscreen filling your nose and making you excited.

You bounded through the corridors of the castle, saying ‘hi’ to Ron, Harry, and Hermione as you passed them. They seemed slightly taken aback by the bounce in your step, Hermione hitting Ron before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

You made it down into the dungeons, finding the bare wall you’d come used to staring at. Whilst a huge majority of the school would never be able to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin common room, as the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, you’d been given the password and was updated of the change fortnightly.

Whispering the new one, you were thrilled when it opened to reveal the green and silver room. It was much darker and drearier than the Hufflepuff common room, perfect for when you were in a cozy mood, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Hey, Y/N,” Blaise greeted you as he looked up from the leather couch. “Draco’s in the dorm room.”

“Thanks, Blaise!” You replied, waving to Pansy and Theo as you walked by them, making your way to the fifth year boys’ dorm.

You knocked once before you entered, finding it empty. You frowned as the door closed softly behind you, but your ears pricked upon hearing the steady rushing of water coming from the attached bathroom.

You settled down onto Draco’s bed, eager for him to hurry up in the shower so you didn’t have to waste anymore time inside. Who knew how long the good weather was going to last for? British spring was unpredictable— tomorrow it could go back to jumper weather and stay like that for weeks, with nothing to do but watch the rain drip drip drip.

Water dripped from Draco’s broad shoulders as he finally left the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his torso. He looked gorgeous— in platinum hair soaked and pale skin slightly flushed from the temperature of the water. His face lit up when he saw you on his bed.

“Let me guess,” Draco hummed, “You want to spend the day outside?”

“Please?” You sent him the same very pout that always allowed you to get your way with him.

Outsiders often believed that Draco was as cold as ice and as hard as steel, that, even for you, he would never be soft. However, it seemed like only you, him, and his friends knew the truth-- all you had to do was breathe and Draco was putty in your hands. You could probably ask him to jump off of the Astronomy Tower and he’d just ask if you wanted him to do a run-up or not. 

He tried to keep up his tough exterior around you at first, but with every laugh that escaped your lips, every excited gasp you gave when you learned something new, Draco felt his walls crumbling and he had to admit that he was hopelessly in love with you. Soft Draco was your favourite Draco, and it was the one he had reserved for you and you only. 

When people teased you, whether it be for your naive nature or because they were taking your kindness for granted, Draco was always the first to defend you. He’d ended up in countless detentions for hexing multiple other students who even looked at you wrong. You were his sunshine and he swore to preserve you and keep you safe from any harm. Even if he was your opposite.

“Fine,” he sighed as if it was a chore, but the corner of his lips twitched up at the idea of spending the entire day whilst you were out in your favourite weather.

“Hurry up and get dressed then,” you said, bending down to reach into his trunk and chucking him some clothes.

Draco caught them, sending you a look. “You sure? We could just stay here all day, I could just wear this...”

He watched you blush and shake your head. “Another time. Right now, it’s sunny-- so we have to go outside.”

Draco didn’t bother delaying you anymore. He knew you’d been hoping for good weather for a long time now. It felt like you hadn’t seen sunshine since the very start of September, and now it was early April. The cold, dark evenings always got you down a little unless you were wrapped up warm in the arms of Draco.

Within a few minutes, he’d dried off and chucked on the clothes that you’d thrown at him, slipping his shoes whilst you practically bounced up and down on your heels by the door. As soon as he was done, you grasped his hand and tugged him away. 

“Can we pick somewhere with a bit of shade?” Draco asked once you’d made it out onto the fields, finding multiple other students who had the same idea as you two. “I don’t want to burn.”

A group of first year Gryffindors ran by, nearly knocking Draco over. He let go of your hand and went tug out his wand, his nose scrunched up in disgust, when you grabbed his wrist.

“Draco!” You scolded him, “You don’t need to hex the eleven-year-olds for nearly knocking you over.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “They should watch where they’re going. I would have only done a tripping hex, anyway.”

Shaking your head at your boyfriend, you felt his slender fingers intertwine with yours once again and he led the way this time. It felt surreal to be outside without having to stuff your hands in your pockets or complaining about rain water seeping through the small hole in the sole of your school shoes.

“Here.” Draco stopped beneath a tree and settled down, his back against the trunk. 

“I’m going to sit in the sun,” you said, moving a few feet away so you were no longer under the shade.

Draco knew you wanted to make the most of it on your skin. He saw it glow on your shoulders, light up your hair and relax your mind as you lay down on the grass, nose pointing towards the sky. He smiled, simply watching you from the shade. 

He grabbed the book he’d managed to pick up before you’d forced him out of his dorm room, burying his face in it for a few moments as you sighed happily, sunbathing nearby. He’d glance up every now and then and become distracted by your beauty, his brain having to force his eyes back down to the pages in front of him. 

Eventually, he gave up, settling the novel beside his legs and moving over. He found you lying on your stomach, plucking daisies out of the grass and arranging them into a pile next to you. 

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, lying beside you, facing the sky. 

“You’ll burn,” you protested, “You wanted to be underneath the shade, Draco--”

“I don’t care,” he murmured, “Just let me be next to you for a bit, yeah?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head a little as you blushed. Draco turned his head to continue watching what you were doing. He saw that once you had a pile of maybe twenty or so daisies, you began to pick them up one by one before piercing a hole through the long stems with your thumbnail. 

He watched with furrowed brows, studying the way your hands delicately began to thread each daisy through another, tying a knot on the end so they couldn’t slip back through. He realised you were making a daisy chain, and quite a large one at that. Eventually, you closed it off and tied it back around to the first daisy. 

“What is it?” He stared at the circle of plants.

“A daisy crown,” you chirped, moving across and straddling him, his hands moving to your hips as you placed it on top of his head. “For my Prince of Slytherin.”

Draco grinned, reaching up to adjust it on his head. “How does it look?”

You beamed as you peered down at him. “You look like a dashingly handsome young prince.”

You leaned down and kissed his nose, watching his own cheeks blush a little. He managed to sit up, your body moving back a little so you were sat in his lap with your legs around his waist, one hand on you to adjust you and the other to keep his daisy chain on his head. 

You decided your words were nothing but the truth. He looked adorable with the white and yellow daisies in his platinum hair, which was fluffy from the shower he’d just had. He looked like the epitome of soft, his silver eyes melting as he stared at you in a mixture of complete adoration and love. 

His hands circled your waist and he managed to pull you even closer. Your sunscreen filled his nose, as well as the shampoo you wore, the sun beating down on the two of you as he moved to meet your lips in the middle. He hummed against you, enjoying the taste of your lip balm and the way you felt against him. 

One hand reached to stroke your cheek, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb brushing at your jaw. His lips worked against yours softly in an attempt to pour every inch of love and appreciation into you, his touch feeling like fire on your warming skin. You wished you could stay like this forever; just you, Draco, and the sun in the sky.

“If I’m the prince, I want to crown you my princess,” Draco murmured against your lips when he pulled away. 

“Do you know how to make a crown?” You asked.

“I can try,” Draco offered, “I watched you.”

Smiling, you climbed off of his lap and watched as he turned to look at the grass. He plucked a few more from the ground until he estimated that he had enough. Draco’s face scrunched up for a second. The boy was clearly deep in thought. 

“You pierce the stems next,” you whispered in his ear.

“I know, I know,” he played it off, grabbing one.

He inspected it for a few moments before trying to stab a hole through it with his thumbnail like you did. He groaned when it ripped all the way through, leaving him with half a stem. Draco tried again three more times before throwing his latest destroyed daisy to the grass in a fit. 

“I can’t make the holes!” Draco complained. 

“I’ll pierce them for you,” you suggested gently, “You pass them to me, and I’ll make the holes. Then you can tie them up as you go along.”

Draco didn’t reply but handed you your first daisy, watching intently as you made a hole with your nail and passed it to him. He grabbed another daisy and handed it to you and you did the same thing, and then he looped it through. 

“Good, now you need to tie it up,” you reminded him. 

Tongue poking out slightly, Draco did as you had said, creating a knot in the stem of the daisy. He grinned when it worked, his pearly whites on display as he practically threw it in your face.

“Look!” 

“Good-- you have one chain. Here’s your next daisy,” you beamed, passing him another with a hole in it.

Draco took longer than you had, his eyes focused and his nose scrunched in concentration as he created you your very own daisy crown to match his. When he was done, he sighed in relief but, overall, looked quite pleased with himself.

“Here you are, my love,” he murmured, placing it on top of your head. 

His fingers adjusted it and moved some of your hair out of the way so it sat perfectly. Draco moved backwards a little and smiled at the sight.

“How do I look?” You teased.

“Like the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid eyes on,” Draco promised breathlessly, kissing you hard on the lips again. 

You kissed him back. Maybe your roommates would never understand because they never saw this side of him, but this was one of the million reasons you loved Draco Malfoy.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #draco x y/n #draco x yn

[raggaraddy]

Play Pretend

Summary: When the chance comes to escape you're are going to play it smart to make sure you get away.

Trigger Warnings: Murder, gun usage, abuse, violence, kidnapping, imprisonment.

Jungkook

Yandere!Jungkook

Mafia!Jungkook

It's been about a week since Jungkook locked you in. Only now were the bruises on your ribs going down. And no matter how quickly he shifted back to normal and calmed down the damage was done, he’d shown you a truly terrifying side of himself and you knew he couldn’t be trusted anymore. The worst of it was that he never even feigned an apology. He didn’t think he was in the wrong to react like he did. He just went from one day to the next like nothing was different.

You felt so stupid. You had thought there was something not right with him the first time you met him. But instead of trusting your gut, you got swept up in his good looks and charm. And that lack of discernment is the reason why you've been trapped in his house for a week now. You tried to tell him that people would be looking for your eventually. But with full certainty, he assured you that wouldn’t be the case. You weren’t sure why or how, but you knew that he 100% believed it. And that made your situation even more despondent.

This evening, for the first time in 8 days, Jungkook finally left the house.  You had thought it might be a chance for you to look for an escape, but to your disappointment, he left one of his ‘employees’ with you.  You still can't pinpoint what he does exactly, but all of the people you have seen with Junkook have a similar dangerous vibe. This one is no exception. Tall, strong, large and mean-looking. It completely dashed your hopes of getting away.  That was until you heard the clear and threatening order Jungkook gave him.  For the second time, you were seeing this sweet kind young man have men double his age, who were larger and tougher looking than him, look weak and fearful. The exact wording slipped your mind, but the gist of it was if anything happens to you while he is gone, Jungkook will violently kill your guard.

After a few hours of stirring, half hesitant to try and half trying to perfect the idea, you finally decide you need to at least attempt a prison break.

Calling the guard, you drop to the bedroom floor, curling yourself tight, clutching your ribs. You knew your bruises were still purple and black there, so it would be the most convincing place to say you had pain.  After a few screams, the man dashes in his face draining at seeing you writhing on the floor in agony.

“What happened?” He barks.

“I fell. It hurts.” You wheeze, knowing it's best to keep your details simple to maintain the act.

He bends to help you up and you wail a faked cry of pain, applying your years of watching dramas into practice. You’re not sure how believable your act is, but the man is so swept up in the panic of the moment, it doesn’t really matter.  As he gets you onto the bed, you pull up your shirt slightly exposing your marks and bruises and it's the tipping point.  He goes from worried to frantic.

"Sh-" he whispers the exclamation under his breath. He looks to ponder his options, and you hope your theory is right and that he is too afraid to call Jungkook first. "Alright, you need to go to the hospital." He declares. You have to lean more into the pained acting to stop a smile from coming onto your face, thankful that your plan is so far working.

The guard picks you up bridal style and carries you downstairs with an urgent patter to his steps. Getting you into the back seat of the car, he rushes into the front and begins driving. Despite his craze, you're surprised to see him driving so steadily and rationally. Abiding the road rules and sticking to the speed limits.

You think your best, or only option would be to get some privacy with Doctor at the hospital and tell him everything. Beg him to call the police. The one risk for going to the hospital is the possibility of the guard not leaving you to talk to the Doctor.

"Fuck." The man hisses under his breath as his phone begins to ring.

The call connects to the cars Bluetooth as he answers, blasting Jungkooks voice in surround sound.

"I'm at home, but you're not. Where are you?" He questions with an ominous tone. The drivers head flicks back to you, his uncertainty flashing through his eyes as he decides what or how much of the truth to tell.

"She hurt herself. Her chest. So I am taking her to the hospital." He reveals everything with a shake in his voice.

Jungkook bursts into a sharp laugh, the sudden piercing of it through the speakers making both of you jump. "She's fine. Bring her back now."

You spring upright, eyes wide. The car rolls to a stop at the traffic light, the man's gaze meeting yours in the rear-view mirror. Jungkook knows! He knows you're faking it. He's going to hurt you again when you get back. You can't let him take you back.

The second the car stops, you don't pause to think, yanking on the door handle and throwing yourself out of the car. Because it is nearly midnight, the suburban area is desolate, but there are a few houses that still have lights on. You know your best option is one of those.

Breaking into a sprint you run across the main road over the island and towards the first house you can see any sign of life in. In a mad frenzy, you begin to pound on the door, calling and screaming for help, begging for them to open. Behind you, you can feel the guard quickly catching up and your pleading gets more desperate.

Giving you pure relief, the front door opens on a middle-aged man looking nearly as petrified as you. You don't wait to explain or discuss anything instead barge past him, hurling yourself through the open door. You spin on your heels, slamming the entrance closed. It doesn't shut though. The full body of the guard powers through the door colliding into you and the homeowner, knocking you both onto the ground in a painful blow.

With a heavy breath and a wild look in his eyes, he stalks over top of you, sealing you all in. The guard pulls a gun and his phone from his pocket, the call to Jungkook seeing to still be active. "Alright, I have h-" he speaks into the receiver, pointing the weapon at the man, rendering him frozen.

"Where are you?!" Jungkook yells, making the guard pull the phone from his ear. Even from a few meters away you can hear his hostile voice loudly and clearly.

For 10 minutes you are sat in the living room numb with fear. You could hear how furious Jungkook was. You can see how mad and nervous your guard is, and you can feel how confused and terrorised the older man is. Without movement, the three of you are stuck in a tense stare off, none able to speak.

On the 11th minute, there is a knock on the front door. The guard peers through the side window and his breath catches in his throat.

You start to physically shake as Jungkook comes in with two more men at his back, looking like an uneven, unsettling mix of calm and intense. Walking in with his hands in his pockets, he takes the size of all three people in the room.

"You left the car in the middle of the road?" He asks the guard, his gaze staying fixed on you.

"Yes. I had to chase her down." He tries to explain shortly.

"Ah," Junkook muses with a click of his tongue. "Get rid of it." He orders one of the other men who came in with him.

The guy nods, rushing to follow the instruction. As the door slams shut, Jungkook walks towards you squatting to your level. "Your ribs hurt Kitten?" he asks with a faked sweetness. He leans down digging his forefinger and thumb into your ribcage. It brings back the true pain of your injuries, making you squeal and writhe while trying to get away from him. His hand wraps around your side, keeping you in place and pushing you to the floor, crushing and gripping your wounds, bringing shortness to your breath and tears to your eyes.

After tormenting you for a few miserable minutes, Jungkook scoffs out a short laugh, standing back up nearly stepping on top of you. "Pick him up" He orders your guard, gesturing toward the homeowner on the floor behind you. He does so, having to hold a lot of the man's weight to get him to his feet. "Anyone else in the house?"

"No, I don't think so." The guard replies with uncertainty.

"Well you're not exactly reliable, are you?" Jungkook sneers.

You jump as two incredibly loud bangs echo out. One after the other, both the guard and the older man drop to the floor. Looking up at Jungkook horrified, he is standing over you holding a gun having just shot the two men. Your stomach is churning at the realization of what he just did. There is only a weak grunt and then silence from the older man, his body slumping still and lifeless. But from the other, there are continued struggled and gasped moans. Jungkook coolly walks to him, another shot firing and the pained sounds stop. Only silence and the pulsing ringing in your ears from the sudden blasts remain.

You're motionless. Panting broken breaths. Too in shock to move. Too scared to do anything. You can't believe this is happening. You're sure you're about to die.

"Go check the house." Jungkook kneels down beside you again, throwing the order to the second man that came with him.

With just the two of you left in the room, he comes closer, speaking lowly and gruffly in your ear. "See what you did Y/n." He motions to the side of you, to the murderous and violent display. You can't bring yourself to look. You know the sounds of those two men will haunt you for the rest of your life. You don't want to add the gruesome image of it as well. "Do want to play? You want to pretend to be in pain?" His hand roughly brushes the hair from off your face. He switches the gun from one hand to the other, his now free left hand digging tightly into your jaw, turning you to him. "Well, we're going home Kitten. And you won't need to pretend when I'm done with you."

#bts #yandere bts #yandere #bts fanfic #bangtan #yandere bangtan #jungkook #yandere jungkook #mafia jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts smut

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

Okayyyy so here’s what I’m Thinking. Bokuto was well known in Tokyo and everyone knew not to mess with him. He met reader at a book shop she worked at. He found her very interesting. The reader is a bit shy. They became friends and started liking each other. She didn’t know that he was in the maifa until she saw him kill someone. He then tired to tell her it’s not what it looked like but reader was afriad of him and ran home. She avoided him for weeks until he showed up at her door with flowers and a bunch of gifts and begged her to talk. - 🍒

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝙱𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙲𝚆: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛/𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝙶𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.5

Oh god

It was moments like these where you wish you could just travel back in time...or at the very least erase your memory...but life won't give you those options, so the only option you have now is to run.

6 Months Ago…

"Ah yes there's nothing quite like this" you thought to yourself flipping to the next page of your favorite book. You really loved working in the local bookshop. Your friends would always joke around how it fitted your “aesthetic” so well. Not that you could disagree though, you couldn't deny that you loved evenings like these, where the rain was pouring outside while you were inside the building reading a book. The faint smell of coffee from the coffee shop next door being the cherry on top to this little vibe you had going on. “Y/n! Do you think you could close up shop for me? I gotta go pick up my brother from practice before this rain gets too crazy". You were brought back into reality by your co-workers request. “Oh for sure! Go ahead.i'll take care of it” you said putting down your book. She thanked you before grabbing her coat and heading outside. You looked up at the clock making a mental note to start closing up in about 20 minutes. Suddenly your train of thought was interrupted by the shop's door opening, causing the little bell on top to jingle. Thinking it was your co-worker you turned around to ask what she had forgotten only to be face to face with a man.

Uhm...Hey! Do you mind if i stay here until this storm dies down?” the male asked you. Giving him a quick look up and down you took notice just how drenched he was, from his grey and black hair dripping and sticking to his face, to his clothes that might as well have been dunked in water with how wet they have gotten. “O-Oh of course! Please come in'' you stuttered after realizing you had been staring at him just a second too long. You quickly ran to the back to grab the blanket you and your co-worker use whenever it gets too cold in the store. Running back to the front you hand the mystery man the blanket. “This won't do much for the clothes but maybe you can at least get your hair dry” you say as he takes the blanket. “Thank You so much!” he said beaming. There was a bit of awkward silence as he dried his hair off, but the silence was broken when he handed you back the blanket. “You're not much of a talker are you?” he said with a light chuckle. He made his way over to one of the reading chars and took a seat, motioning for you to do the same. “Yeah uh...sorry I'm a bit shy! Especially around strangers who just happen to walk into my bookshop” you said making your way to sit next to him. Once you had sat down he looked at you with shining eyes and a oh so bright smile “Well if that's the problem” he said holding his hand out to you ”I'm Bokuto Koutarou!”. You laughed a little at his enthusiasm before grabbing his hand “Well Bokuto, it's nice to meet you, I'm Y/n”

That night was the first of many that you'd be spending with Bokuto, in fact after that night he had become a frequent customer at the bookshop, always coming at the later hours, and always keeping you company whenever you started closing up. Hell he's even taken you out for drinks a couple times after your shift. You have never been one to trust strangers, let alone become good friends with them but shockingly enough, you felt rather comfortable around this strange man. Maybe it was his bright personality, or the way his eyes seemed to sparkle wherever he laid them on you, or even the way that his laugh caused a giggle or two to escape from your own lips. Either way you liked this Bokuto Koutarou, and if only you knew how much Bokuto liked you as well. Lucky both of your feelings would come to light on a night similar to the night Bokuto magically waltzed into your life...

Here you both were, sitting on the very same chairs you had introduced yourselves in. Only this time, you were both reading your respective books. However this peace was soon interrupted by a whiny Bokuto. “Y/nnnn I'm so boredddd” Bokuto said slamming his book shut. You put your bookmark in your book before closing it and looking at his puppy dog eyes ``Y'know for someone who comes into a bookshop so often, you're not that interested in books are you?” you told him with a smirk. “Hey! I'm smart enough without the help of your stinky books'' he said tapping the book against your head.. You grabbed the book from his hands and stuck your tongue out, watching as he plopped back on his self proclaimed “personal reading chair”. “Besides, I only ever really come to this shop to spend time with you”. You blushed at his small comment but not wanting your feelings to get the best of you quite yet, you decided to “test” these waters you were trending in. “What? You got a crush on me or something?” you said giving him a playful nudge. Now it was his turn to blush. It was silent for a beat to long and you were about to take back what you had just said, but you were quickly cut of when Bokuto took your hand, looked you dead in your eyes with a look that sent shivers down your spine “Would you hate me if I did?” he asked you in a soft tone, almost like a child admitting they broke something to their parent, a big contrast from his usual loud and confident voice. Instead of responding you simply squeezed his hand and cupped his face with the other “I would never hate you, especially if i feel the same way about you” Not being able to hold back anymore he simply grabbed your face and pulled you in for a soft but passionate kiss.pulling away he looked at you with all the love in the world “Y/n, I really want to be with you, but… there's a part of my life that you've never seen and I don't want to lose you over that” he told you, his eyes beginning to gloss over. Still pretty confused about what he was talking about you only took his face in your hand once more “Kou I will love you no matter what. Even your ugly parts”. Bokuto pulled you into a hug, trying to hide the tears that were falling freely from his eyes now. “Y-You promise?”

“I Promise”

Present Day

Thinking about that night still caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. But now as you were running towards your apartment as if you were running from the grim reaper himself you couldn't ignore the feeling of dread that was sitting next to those butterflies. Had you really just seen that? Did you really just see your loving goofball of a boyfriend kill someone? It was supposed to be a normal night. You had closed the shop and were beginning to walk back home when you saw familiar spiky hair across the road. Curiosity had got the best of you, so… you decided to investigate. What you didn't expect to see was your boyfriend holding a gun to a man's head. It had all happened so fast first the crack of the gun, then your scream, then Bokuto's horrified expression as he turned and saw you standing there with your hand over your mouth. Before Bokuto could even try to explain what he had done, you ran. You ran away as if he was going to point the gun at you next.

Finally. Finally you were safe in your apartment. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, and your legs felt like absolute jelly. All you could do was collapse to the floor and break down crying. The scene from earlier replaying over and over in your head, causing you to get even more hysterical. Suddenly your phone started buzzing. You picked it up, as if you didn't already know who it was calling. The image of your boyfriend's face appeared on your screen, he looked nothing like the man who you had just seen commit that heinous deed. Suddenly anger took over your senses and you threw your phone across the room, returning to your fetal position to cry all your emotions out, eventually crying yourself to sleep

When you had finally awoken the sun was rising and the birds outside were singing their spring songs. You pulled yourself off of the floor before making your way to your phone across the room. "Damn it" you thought. Of course you had cracked your screen. Turning the phone on you was bombarded by hundreds of missed calls and text messages from your boyfriend. Could you even call him that any more? Would you really look at the man you saw kill and call him your boyfriend? Opting not to answer any of his messages or return any of his calls, you blocked him and went to go make you some tea, hoping to calm your still frazzled nerves”

The next few days were pretty quiet you hadn't even dared to leave your apartment, let alone even show up at work. You had called out telling your co-worker that you came down with a terrible cold and wouldn't be in for a couple of days. Sitting alone in your apartment during this time really gave you time to think about the events you had witnessed that night. Is this what Bokuto was talking about that night he confessed to you? Is this what he was afraid of losing you over? you couldn't really blame him if it was. But still, he could have at least warned you about this part of his life, or at the very least act like he was a cold blooded killer! You still couldn't bring yourself to think that the man you had cuddled in bed with, the man you had taken walks in the park with, the very man who opted to release a spider instead of killing it, would actually have it in him to kill an actual person. Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Still a little on edge you jumped at the sudden sound before that familiar sense of dread flooded your stomach. “Well gotta face the music some time” you breathed out slowly walking towards the door.

When you had opened the door you were practically tackled into a hug by a very hysterical Bokuto. You froze at the sudden contact “How could a man hug you with the very same hands he took someone's life with?" You thought as you gently pushed him off you. “Y/n I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now but-” he was interrupted when you raised your hand. “You have 10 minutes to explain yourself then you either need to leave, or I'm calling the cops” you told him motioning for him to come inside. Bokuto practically jumped at the opportunity to finally explain himself to you and hopefully make you understand why he did what he did.

Each of you took a seat at your dining table. It was time for you to get answers... “Ok for starters, why are you here?” you started staring at him coldly. “Well you weren't answering any of my calls or texts and whenever I stopped by the bookshop you were never there, so I got worried” he replied fiddling with his thumbs. You slowly nodded at his answer. “So are you gonna tell me what the hell happened that night or are you just gonna sit there” you spat at him almost angrily. He flinched at your words before taking a deep breath “Well what did you see?” he asked. That was it for you. You slammed your hands on the table, not able to control your anger any more. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHAT DID I SEE?!?!? I SAW YOU FUCKING KILL SOMEONE KOUTAROU!!” you screamed at him standing up from your seat.”I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU!” he shouted back at you, throwing his hands up in the air. You both stared at each other in teary silence. “Y/n please let me explain… then you can hate me or kick me out i don't care! Just please…” you huffed before sitting back down, doing your best to hold back your own tears. “Ok” he said, trying to find a way to tell you everything “My family has always been a part of the mafia” he started, “When I turned 18 it was time for me to “take over” the family business” your mouth fell open, since he was 18? He's been doing this since he was 18? “When I first met you, I never ever wanted to tell you how much you meant to me because I never wanted you to find out about this part of my life, or even worse...I never wanted this part of my life to find out about you” he continued. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean “find out about me”” you asked him. “I mean, that if my rivals found out about you and I, they would start to come after you”. Your eyes widened at this. “S-so that guy you shot-” “was trying to kill you” he said finishing off your sentence. He then looked up at you, visible tears in his eyes. “I'm so sorry Y/n I never wanted to put you in any sort of danger but-” you had cut him off when you smashed your lips against his. All this time you had thought he killed that man out of cold blood. Not once did you even consider he was doing it for you. He kissed you back before pulling you into the tightest hug. “Y-your not mad?” he blubbered out. “Not anymore,” you said, smiling at him. “ I just wish you would have told me,” you said. “But I didn't want to lose you…” he whispered in your ear. One last time, you took his face into both of your hands. “Bokuto Koutarou I love you” you said, letting the tears fall from your eyes. He laughed a soft laugh “even the ugly parts?” he asked you

“Even the ugly parts”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #bokuto #Bokuto Koutarou #bokuto fluff #bokuto angst #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x y/n #mafia!bokuto #mafia! bokuto x reader #mafia!Bokuto Koutarou #mafia Bokuto #mafia Bokuto Koutarou #mafia Bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher (Part Three)

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 4,365

(Part 1, Part 2)

Happy Holidays, Cavillry! I really truly hope that you all had some socially distanced fun! Here’s a little gift from me to everyone. I really hope everyone enjoys this last part to this miniseries as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Warning: I have never written anything even remotely close to smut and this story gets a teeny bit smutty so please be gentle with me.

Please like and reblog or leave some replies if you liked it!

Taglist: @novareign1, @libbymouse, @calwitch, @soldade, @happiness-in-the-dark, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @wolvesandhoundshowltogether, @zealoushoundrancheclipse, @seanh-boredom, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @writingforhenry, @weallhaveadestiny, @suueeeeeee

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“Because. We kissed."

Kissed.

Did you hear him right? Did he just say you kissed? You two kissed? And you didn't remember? 

Just the thought of it made you dissolve into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

A valiant effort on his part, truly. He really looked frustrated and confused that you didn't remember. What a brilliant actor.

"Phew!" you brushed the tears from the sides of your eyes and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand

"Right! As if I would ever forget kissing someone like you.” you gestured to him from head to toe, “Specimen.”

“Alright,” he crossed his muscular arms against his equally muscular chest, “I am one hundred and ten percent sure it was you and I’m not about to let you change my mind, madame.”

The challenge was clear in his voice and honestly? It was really hot, his whole stern and smug vibe actually made you forget that you were trying to defend your honour. 

How could he just look like that? All tall and handsome and muscular? It threw you off your game. He looked like he was God's favourite. 

"Aren’t we going to dinner?" you asked, now openly staring at his eyes

"Oh, god. Of course, you must be starving. I apologise." he dropped his proud stance and immediately grabbed your coat from the rack

Henry graciously helped you put it on, his arms lingered around you just a tad bit longer than needed but it was all very good.

Something must have caught his eye as he stepped away from you. He gave you a small smile and made a move to lean in. 

Oh, was this happening now?

Okay, sure. What the hell right? Since he claims to have already kissed you before maybe he needed to be reminded. 

You could do that. You knew how to kiss, you’ve kissed people before.

As he leaned in, the smell of his cologne invaded your senses. It was musky but also floral. Combined with his naturally clean, fresh scent, you could just picture yourself on a leisurely stroll with him in a field somewhere, the pristine air carrying the scent of earthy wood and spring flowers all around you. Henry would be gazing at you adoringly and he’d be in a soaked white shirt even though it was a sunny day.

Armed with that picture in your mind, nothing could go wrong. You were definitely feeling it.

You tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to meet him halfway, more than ready to feel those luscious lips on yours. You shut your eyes, just to make it more romantic.

His arms wrapped around you and you went in for the kill.

That’s when the worst possible thing happened. Well, perhaps not the worst thing but this was pretty fucking close.

Instead of the soft lips you were expecting, your lips met the soft material of his sweater.

Yes, that’s right. His sweater.

You, Y/N Y/LN, had just planted a big ol’ smooch on Henry Cavill’s sweater.

Your eyes snapped open and you wondered what you did so wrong in your past life to deserve this. How could you have misjudged the situation so wrongly?

The second Henry felt the tiny amount of pressure on his shoulder, he knew he fucked up. He had no idea why he didn’t just tell you that the collar of your coat was sticking up, why did he feel the need to straighten it himself? Now, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to embarrass you.

But, it was a little too late for that now, wasn’t it?

You both stepped away at the same time, seeming to look at anything else in the room but each other. It was nice of him to also feel embarrassed on your behalf but, you felt like everyone the world over was cringing out of their skin from secondhand embarrassment.

“So, dinner?” Henry offered you his strong arm, grinning at you like nothing happened

Was it possible for him to be even more perfect? As you looped your arm through his, you found out that it was.

---------------------------

The expansive cityscape was laid out before you from the secluded trellis covered terrace of the restaurant he chose. The view was beautiful, the lights of the city sprinkled across buildings, homes, and streets, the inky black and blue sky stretching far beyond.

Gazing out at it should have made you feel calm, at peace. But you were a bundle of nerves. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think that you’d be on a date with Henry Cavill and you wouldn’t have imagined that he would be accusing you of forgetting that you shared a kiss.

“Look,” you rested your arms on the table, looking at him as seriously as you could without getting lost in his eyes, “I swear, if we really did kiss, I would remember.”

Henry studied you quietly amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant beyond the French doors. It was endearing to him, how quickly you would sometimes switch from confident assertiveness to awkward fumbling.

For you, it was a test of endurance to look past the god-given good looks and focus on trying to anticipate what his next move was.

Turns out, it was one in your favour.

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

You almost did a spit take with your wine. Thank God you weren’t wearing anything white.

Okay, act cool. That should be easy, right? You were an actor after all. Just be cool. Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw, stop sweating.

"I must've been mistaken. I truly apologise." 

He looked so sheepish, you actually reached over to put your hand on his. You tilted your head and gave him an understanding smile. A wave of relief washed over your body and to Henry, it showed. Your rigid posture finally loosened and you even managed to lace your fingers through his.

"I totally get it. I mean, with our jobs? We meet dozens of people everyday, it's not hard to be confused."

His heart leapt into his throat at the contact, it felt like his entire arm was covered in live wires but he would endure it just to savour your hand in his.

"Let's focus on our date, yeah?" 

"Yes, absolutely," you nodded enthusiastically, "Please. Tell me all about you."

"Oh, but I'd rather hear about you."

You were flattered, really. But just in case this was never going to happen again, you needed to get him talking and sponge up as much information as you could.

"And you will, but let’s hear about you first.”

He wanted to argue but you were already looking at him expectantly and despite your short time together, he was already struggling to say no to you.

So, he talked, and talked, and talked, much more than he’s ever dared to talk in his whole life. And you listened, absolutely captivated by his eloquence, his intelligence, his passion, and his wit. Not to mention his voice, deep and silky and hypnotising. Why people thought he lacked personality was a mystery to you.

“I do love theatre,” he explained with a mouthful pasta. It was adorable, no questions asked. “I wish I had that courage and longevity to just deliver every single night for months on end.”

“I actually started out in theatre.” you nodded your head as he widened his eyes at you questioningly. “Yup. I did a decent run of The Tempest at the Yard a year back.”

That’s when the ball dropped. Time seemed to stop for Henry, his drink hovered in the air just as he was about to raise it to his lips. It had finally made itself known, his smoking gun. He faltered only for a second before masking his triumphant smirk with his wine glass.

One harmless little question out of his mouth had you turning as red as the cherry tomatoes artfully scattered in the salad that was set before you.

“Ah, yes. Didn’t you play Miranda?”

You stopped stirring your iced tea and furrowed a brow at him.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Did you catch a show?”

“I did. I was at the opening night after party as well.” he enunciated this part slowly and clearly, hoping that your eyes would spark with recognition

But they didn’t.

“Isn’t that a shame. We could have done this earlier if we crossed paths that night.”

Henry pursed his lips and nodded, mildly disheartened but nonetheless, he pressed on.

“I do recall meeting you though.”

This again? 

You huffed and set your utensils on your plate. You laced your fingers together and looked him in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes.

“Okay. If that is the night in question then I will admit that I… may have kissed someone but it wasn’t you.” 

“Well, well, well…” he raised an eyebrow at you and you instantly coloured

It wasn’t one of your finest moments and you figured you would never have to dig that memory out of the vault but here it was.

“I know how this sounds,” you shook your head disapprovingly at him, “But it’s not. Okay. On God, it wasn’t you.”

Henry nodded yet again, narrowing his eyes at you. The silent treatment and judgy look he had on forced you to keep talking, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“It wasn’t you, Henry. Okay? It was just some random dude in a nice sweater and a signet ring or something.”

Alarm bells started clanging in your head as your eyes swept over your dinner date. Nice sweater, check. A signet ring resting on his pinky, check.

“It wasn’t you.” you repeated in more of a whisper, more to convince yourself than anything else

Throughout your debate, bits and pieces of that night started to come back to you. The most embarrassing part came to mind first, it would probably be your saving grace but, did you really want to tell Henry Cavill what you thought you did?

“Am I really that bad a kisser? That you felt the need to completely erase it from your memory?”

His tone was joking but you could see in his eyes that he was a little bit hurt. It was going to be a cold day in hell if you were going to be the person to make Henry Cavill doubt his skills in the kissing area.

“I kissed a male prostitute that night, okay!” you yelled out in exasperation

Thank God your table was situated on the terrace or else a restaurant full of people would have been in on your little secret. As your voice echoed off the walls, you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself. How much embarrassment were you going to endure?

“A male prostitute?” Henry repeated slowly, clearly having a difficult time processing this new information

“Yes.” you groaned, leaning back in your seat and covering your face with your hands

---One year before---

The curtains closed to thunderous applause, whistles and standing ovations. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to keep your breathing steady.

Did that really just happen?

You looked around at your castmates and wrangled them into a group hug.

“Did I really just do that?” you asked Marge upon meeting her backstage

“Yes, you did! Now go on and get changed. It’s after party time.”

With that, she sent you off with a smack on your ass.

You’d only known Marge for a few months since you arrived in London but you liked her already. It’s not like you had a choice though, really, she was the only one you knew.

“How about that one, that one over there?” Marge slurred, shoulders knocking into yours, less than discreetly pointing out some guy in the crowd of party goers

“Shh! Marge!” you giggled, more than a little tipsy yourself

Opening night was a smashing success, it was your first ever gig anywhere, really. You were so nervous the entire time, you thought you were doomed to fuck up and forget your lines or something but that moment never came.

“HEY! REVIEWS ARE OUT!” someone yelled in the crowd

“Here we go.” you murmured, knocking back your drink and tugging Marge along

The huge crowd gathered around your director, who was standing on a stool. It was a tight squeeze since a good chunk of the people who came were already hammered. Someone from behind shoved you forward and you rather inelegantly fell into the arms of the man next to you.

“Whoa there.” you could just make out the deep velvety voice above the murmurings of the crowd

“Oh, God, I am so sorry, I-” you trailed off when you finally laid eyes on your rescuer

Oh, wow.

You couldn’t decide which feature to focus on first. The captivating eyes that were a shade of blue that your alcohol-soaked brain couldn’t even comprehend, the strong chiseled jawline you needed a protractor to measure, or the perfect stray curls that fell onto his forehead?

Decisions, decisions.

“Are you alright? You almost fell.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms as he helped you stand upright.

God, he was handsome, an observation you thought you had kept to yourself.

The tall man chuckled, still holding on to your forearms, “Thanks very much. I’m He-”

“And Y/N, my incomparable Miranda!” a booming voice interrupted him from the front of the room

“Fuck, that’s me.”

You broke from his grasp and fought your way through the crowds, leaving your hero looking out after you.

“Newcomer Y/N Y/L/N’s performance as Miranda is the glittering centrepiece to this refreshing, masterful take on an enduring classic,” the director read aloud, allowing the crowd to raise their glasses to you

You smiled at everyone, inadvertently meeting the eye of your tall handsome man.

When the crowd dispersed, you and Marge found yourselves back at the open bar, eyeing up every guy that passed by.

“Y/N, you’re on the fast track now. You killed tonight, now it’s time to pick your prize! How about that one? In the corner? Looks tall, shaggy hair…”

“Marge, that’s a ficus.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that other ficus has been looking over since we set up camp here.” 

You followed the tilt of her head to the same guy from earlier, the achingly handsome one. He raised his glass to you and you waved sloppily back. It was the alcohol, okay? Open bar, what were you gonna do?

Marge whistled low, sizing him up from head to toe, “Y/N, that’s a male prostitute if I’ve ever seen one and I have seen a lot of ones.”

The fry you had chomped down barely made it halfway down your throat before coming back up again, “What? No! Marge, he’s not.”

“But he is. Y/N, that man is tall, hung, and handsome. There is no man that tall, hung, and handsome that isn’t either an actor or a male prostitute.”

“Tall, hung, and handsome.” you mumbled, raking your eyes over him as discreetly as you could

In your inebriated state, you completely forgot to ask Marge why he couldn’t have been an actor. Why did her mind immediately head for the strip club? And why did yours follow suit?

“Imma go and bag myself a stripper, Marge. Okay?”

“Yes! Use protection!”

Before strutting off or more like stumbling off, you downed some more booze which probably was not as good of an idea than you thought. Not even halfway to him, you decided that you were teetering in your heels a little bit too much, so you took them off.

“Oh. Hey there.” the same silky smooth voice from earlier greeted you

“Ah, fuck. You’re tall.”

Looking up at him made you dizzy, like standing at the top of a giant skyscraper and looking down at the very edge.

He chuckled and you watched entranced as his face just lit up like Christmas. You decided then and there that you would like to kiss the Christmas, very much so indeed.

The liquid courage in you was really doing its job. You took his hand and dragged him away from the party. This was fine, wasn’t it? It’s not like he was complaining, he looked rather amused actually. Things like this probably happen to him a lot in his line of work.

“Well, now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” he asked teasingly once you two were tucked away in a dark corner

The combined effects of the excessive alcohol, the high of your first successful job, and the way this sinfully handsome man was looking at you made your next move the easiest thing in the world.

You balled the front of his sweater in your fist and tugged him down towards you. He was too tall.

Who on earth was this ballsy, clumsy, beautiful, talented stranger?

Henry didn’t get the chance to ask before his lips came crashing down and immediately, wildfire. 

A shockwave of frenzy ran through his body, he needed to feel you. He was all hands and lips and ragged breaths. His lips traveled down the smooth path of your throat, nipping and sucking as he went. You were putty in his hands.

“Jump.” he growled

You did as he asked and he latched his hands underneath your thighs and planted you against the wall. His lower half pressed into yours and you knew that Marge was right. Your hands raked through his hair and you reveled in the feel of him, strong, confident, in charge. His large hands made their way to your bottom and he squeezed gently.

A breathy moan escaped your lips and you knew you needed to have more of this man. Your fumbling hands made their way to his belt buckle but he set you down on your feet and held you steady.

“What..?” you whispered, suddenly disoriented

“I really should take you on a date first.” he panted

Sober, you definitely would have taken him up on his offer, male prostitute or not, but you were far from it and your head was still spinning so you thought you’d shut your eyes for a while and have him catch your unconscious form.

With you over his shoulder and your shoes in one hand, Henry made his way to his car and drove you safely home, relying on the satnav and your slurred directions.

He laid you gently in bed, brushing the hair away from your face. You snored in your drunken sleep and Henry smiled at the sound.

This was an encounter he was sure he would remember for a long time.

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“Well, that was me,” Henry nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out. “Exactly as you remembered it.”

Tall, hung, and handsome, huh? That wasn’t anything new to him. He’s been described using far more… graphic detail, if his time searching his name on Tumblr was anything to go by. But hearing it come from your mouth turned him several shades of red.

You, on the other hand, had no words. Again. But you figured that it was all Marge’s fault.

“So, I suppose I was right?” he confirmed, unable to contain the self-satisfied smirk on his face

“Uh, yeah,” you sighed, absolutely exhausted from your little trip down memory lane. “Yeah, I guess you were right.”

Slowly, you met each other’s eyes. A moment passed before you both dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Do I look like a male prostitute? Did I exude that kind of energy at the time?” Henry guffawed, shoulders shaking

“God, I don’t even know how I thought that! I was super drunk, okay?” you covered your face with your hands, mortified and extremely amused at yourself

The laughter died down and you were left gazing at each other fondly. Dessert had long since been over and the night went on, the candlelights on your table and scattered around the quiet terrace intensified the feeling that was passing between you.

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened and settled on your lips. Unlike all the other times today, you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t feel like you were about to make a fool of yourself, you felt completely calm.

“Would it be alright with you if we picked up where we left off that night?”

Ever the gentleman. You smiled and made your way over to him.

“Hi.” you made yourself comfortable on his lap and you laced your arms around his neck

“Hello, there.” he whispered against your lips

It was probably not the best place to do this, in a restaurant where upwards of twenty people were just beyond the terrace doors but you were in your own little world.

You were endlessly thankful that you were sober for this, you would never forgive yourself otherwise.

When his lips finally met yours, you wondered how on earth you ever forgot such a feeling. It was gentle and soft, as most of these things start, his thumbs caressed that apple of your cheeks then he laid a chaste kiss on each.

You breathed long and hard as his hands splayed on your back, pushing you closer to him. His warm tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip before exploring your mouth, the taste of you mixed with the subtle taste of wine was exquisite and he wanted more. He drank you in, holding you flush against him.

“Wait.” you took his hand and led him to the far side of the terrace to an alcove enveloped in a curtain of lush vines

“When did you spot this?” Henry asked, breathless as you sat him down and straddled him once again

“On the way in.” you had the audacity to blush

“You had plans for me already?”

“A girl always comes prepared.”

Nothing would ever prepare you for the sight of his full length, once his trousers were lowered, it was over for you. Henry took control by shoving your underwear to the side and impaling you onto him. You inhaled sharply, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“Are you okay?” he struggled to control himself, having you quivering on top of him was severely testing his restraint

“Yes. Please. Move.” all you could manage were monosyllabic answers

And move he did. It should be illegal to be this good.

The night air was cool but you were both slick with sweat, you two had lost your tops a while ago and Henry’s tongue swept across the valley of your breasts and marked his territory everywhere he could. His thrusts were enough to bruise you but you never wanted anything more than to feel him.

“Henry,” you gasped out as he continued to hit that spot that made you see stars

He could sense that you were close, you were tightening around him and gripping him like a vise. 

“Let go, lovely.” he whispered in your ear, committing the way your face twisted into a mask of pleasure and desperation to memory

You rode him furiously, the sound of your flesh colliding over and over again mingled with your hoarse moans, you were certain that someone would hear you but at that moment all you cared about was reaching your peak and with Henry Cavill at the helm?

His large hand clamped around your mouth as you came, you writhed and arched your body uncontrollably as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out of you and began to finish himself off, he did not expect for your hand to join his and he did not expect to come so quickly once it did.

“Jesus.” he panted, reaching over to smooth your hair out of your face

You shivered, suddenly very aware that you weren't wearing anything at all. Henry helped you dress quickly and wrapped his own coat around you, rubbing some heat into your arms.

When you refused to look him in the eye the entire ride back to your flat, that’s when Henry started getting nervous.

It’s not like he could ask you if you enjoyed it? I mean, he could but that would make him look like an amateur and he would really like to think that he was no amateur in that area. So instead, he took your hand as you stood in front of your door. 

“Y/N, I would love to do this again. The date, not the sex- I mean, I would like to have sex with you again but that's not what I'm after-Holy shit."

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Henry rubbed at his face with a hand and sighed, "Do you think you'd like to see me again?" 

"Do you think you'd like to stay the night?" 

Both of you asked your questions at the same time and you both looked taken aback at them.

"What makes you think I don't want to see you again?" you wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him

"You were silent the whole car ride?"

He looked so unsure and a little afraid that you couldn't help but squeeze him. How could someone be both heartbreakingly handsome and adorable all at the same time? 

"I was just summoning up the courage to ask you to stay the night!"

"Oh thank God."

He swept you off your feet and threw your door open but, you didn’t end up in bed (you’d get there later), you ended up in the same place you started, on the couch, with him spectating and occasionally helping out as you played Witcher 3.

The next morning, you woke up to a text message and a forwarded article from Marge,

“HOW BEING A STAN GOT Y/N Y/L/N HER MAN”

YOU TWO ARE EVERYWHERE. CHECK IT OUT!  I TAKE CASH, CHEQUES, AND LAVISH GIFTS. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A muscular arm gently wrapped around your bare waist and a tender kiss was pressed onto your shoulder. You looked back at your handsome bedfellow and smiled.

You’d take a look at it later. Right now, you had better things to do.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the man from uncle

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hello, hello!! It's me again!! Here to interrupt your feed with yet another of my random genshin thought of the day! Recently, on one of Zach's (Aether's VA) streams with Poonam (Klee's VA), one of the viewers mentioned something about Klee driving a mini-car affectionately titled the 'dodocar'. This got the gears in my head turning, and I started thinking about the different modes of transport each character would use. These are some scenarios my brain came up with!! I wanted to send them your way because you always have the loveliest ideas, and wanted to know if you had any more thoughts on the matter! As such, Miss Hazel, today I present to you my offering of Genshin boys as different modes of transport! 💕

- 🔎

Diluc would drive a car. No question about this. I've always imagined him to have a sleek, modern-looking car that's maybe a little bit on the pricier side, but not completely outrageous by any means. The man doesn't really seem like the type who would want to show off his wealth, but he also can't deny that he has an eye for much of the finer things in life.

You watch as Diluc mans the car, watching the rolling hills flash by the window. There's something uniquely intoxicating about sitting in a car with someone else for hours on end. It makes you want to open up to them, makes you want to share stories which you perhaps wouldn't have wanted to share otherwise, much like a drunkard who's had one glass too many and is now blabbering on about their whole life story. Ah, but then again, perhaps this is only so because the two of you were drunk on something else entirely? You didn't know the answer to that question, but as you watched the way his sunset-eyes crinkled with mirth at your terrible, terrible Michael Jackson impression, you think you were okay with never knowing the answer to that question so long as the two of you could stay in this moment forever, just as you were.

Albedo doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would really enjoy driving. Instead, I think his preferred mode of transport would be cycling! He wakes up much earlier every morning because he insists on cycling to work instead of driving. Albedo seems like a very practical sort of fellow. Sure, cycling is more time consuming, but it's efficient, more environmentally friendly, and overall better for his health. That makes it a win in his book.

On the weekends though, especially as the weather starts to get warmer and the air is filled with the welcomed promise of spring, Albedo would often take you out for dates in the park on a special tandem-bike. The two of you would cycle around for a while just watching the flowers bloom and the greenery come back to life, before stopping for a quick picnic lunch underneath a grand magnolia tree. You laugh as you move to wipe the little bit of cream from the cake you two just devoured which is still stuck on his upper lip. It's a sweet, saccharine kind of love, one that reminds you of fresh morning-dew and hopeful new beginnings.

Over the summer, you found out that Childe has somehow managed to get his grubby little hands on a jet ski. Uh-oh. He says he wants you to ride it with him. He's saying please. He's giving you the puppy-dog eyes. You cannot say no to that face. You do not know where he got it from or even when he learned how to use a jet ski, but really don't think this is a good idea. Come on, you cannot look at this man and try to convince me that he is not an absolute speed demon. One moment he's showing off cool tricks on the jet-ski and then the next moment he's- oh JESUS CHRIST CHILDE SLOW THE FUCK DOWN, SOMEONE'S GONNA FALL!!

Thankfully, he's a skilled enough driver that everything went relatively smoothly. This time, at least. As he stops the vehicle to give you that dopey little grin and make sure you're still alive, you take a moment to playfully hit him on the shoulder for making your heart race a million miles an hour. He only laughs. Still, it was exhilirating. And you would never admit it to his face, but he does look kind of cool showing off tricks on the water. Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

Kaeya is a proud owner of a motorcycle. Specfically, he owns one of those lovely old-school 1980's Honda motorcycles. The people living in your neighbourhood almost went mad the moment they saw him pull up at your door with, complete with dark sunglasses and a leather jacket. You thought he looked rather stupid. Still, you were glad that he brought his bike with him. It made it easier to traverse the city traffic and get to your destination quicker.  Kaeya takes you out on a ride to one of his favourite destinations for a midnight snack: a night market, filled with rows and rows of stalls selling piping hot food. You hop from stall to stall, sharing the food and tasting everything the market has to offer together before heading back with a full heart and a full stomach.

There's a sense of youthful freedom that comes with taking late-night rides with your beau like this. Your arms around his waist, the wind billowing past your face, the moonlight reflecting the stars in his eyes... It makes you feel young again, makes you feel as though you were seventeen once more, discovering the thrills of love for the very first time. You've missed this. You've missed him. Sighing contentedly against his shoulder, you silently watch the blinking city lights fade in and out of view as you drive through the city that never sleeps.

Zhongli... Has no vehicle of his own. He's broke, your honour. Sorry Zhongli, I don't make the rules here. Thankfully, he lives in a city with a great public transport system, so he has no issues getting around if he needs to. The lack of personal vehicles also means he gets to spend more time walking with you, an activity which he has grown to really enjoy, so I suppose there is a silver lining after all. The two of you often work rather late, so the streets were usually barren by the time you leave the office. You and Zhongli would often walk to the train station together after your shifts have ended, basking in the stillness of the night and the almost alien glow of fluorescent lights.

He loves chatting with you during these walks. He would ask you questions about your day, about your work, about plans for the weekend. Sometimes he would point out the different types of plants and rocks he noticed on your walk to the station. In the train, the two of you would sit silently together, content to just enjoy each other's presence. Sometimes, on particularly rough days, you find yourself falling asleep on his shoulder while waiting for your destination. He finds this incredibly endearing, and would always take it as a cue to give you a quick peck on the cheek before tucking you closer to his side.

Sometime later, you two are awoken by the train staff. The both of you had fallen asleep on the train and had missed your stop. Whoops.

i love these! 

I really vibe with the Albedo one too - he’s very practical and pretty frugal, waste isn’t something he seems to enjoy creating so everything eco-friendly would be his go to ( we can be eco-friendly together my dear )

lol Zhongli!

plus you made these cute little interactions T.T adorable to the max!!

#hazelmail #🔎 anon #🔎 works #genshin impact #transportation headcanons #hazeldigsthis

[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

#Request #om beelzebub #om lucifer #om mammon #im slowly cranking them out!!! #obey me shall we date

[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. 

#jongdae fanfic #chen fanfic #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo fluff #exo au

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1

A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

Summary:

Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.

The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.

This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.

Chapter 1: Mother's Gift

Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.

A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.

Mother had a gift for him.

Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.

Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.

Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?

“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.

“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.

“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.

“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.

“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”

Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?

‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.

“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.

The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.

“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.

“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.

Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.

“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.

“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.

As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?

It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.

Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.

Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.

Oh how wonderful that would be!

#salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #mother miranda #beauty and her beast #fic #mine #chapter 1 #re8 #re8 village #re village #salvatore moreau x reader #moreau x reader #moreau x oc #salvatore moreau x oc

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

[the-slasher-files]

GONE

INCLUDES BO X READER

This is taken me so long to write and not because I've been super busy but just putting my all into it and only writing this when I'm feeling in the angsty headspace... Now, this is a very broken Bo in all forms, at its almost a 2k description of you just laying on the couch with him, taking in his pain. If you read my write "Affection" it is a very similar writing style... so I hope you enjoy and feel all the painful and comforting vibes. tw suicidal dark thoughts🔪💕

MASTERLIST

“oh Bo” you sighed as the old dingy couch squeaked underneath your weight. It was scratchy and ripped on the corners, yellowed from the age and sunken where Bo would always sit at the end of the night. The house was quiet, too quiet. The man beside you was not making smartass remarks, or sexual comments, or even ranting about his day, he just sat there, staring at the piles of dusty books and the odd papers thrown along the ruff aged hardwood. Bo was lost in his own head, it was hard for him to hear you over the screams and howls of his memories and future premonitions. You didn’t know what particular thoughts had hounded him tonight but it did not matter, you just knew Bo needed a soft grasp to pull him from the swirling waves in his mind that threatened to pull him under. 

When you had woken up this morning he was already gone from the tangled cotton sheets, the hot Louisiana sun had flowed in through the lacy curtains of the home, replacing the warmth he had given you in the bed. It wasn’t strange when Bo was gone in the mornings, for the town he held so close forced him to wake early to fix the odds and ends. Sometimes you wondered what life for him would be like away from Ambrose, if he would be better off, but at the same time you could never imagine him away from it. The desolate town started to be an extension of Bo; charming, quaint, warm like his bourbon and alluring on the outside, with a little unease like his scars that were visible from his suit, but below the surface there was horrific pain, darkness and a truth that made your heartbreak and stomach swirl. 

Getting up and starting your day Bo’s absence screamed in your head, but you knew sometimes his and your affection would take a toll; He was never affectionate before you came along and it was a struggle for Bo to keep up the task some days. You understood that and would remember what Bo was taught; Love equalled pain. Most days it was better to leave him alone for the morning and let him collect the pieces of his wax mask and put on the act. You did not care if he had his mask on or not. You loved him either way. 

Craving his presence you continued your day, puttering around the house and finally leaving to the town over to pick up some groceries, and supplies for you and the 3 men. Coming home the sun was starting to set along the ridgeline and the sky was painted in reds and pinks, kissing the clouds and beckoning the darkness to chase the sun. Pulling up to the shared home, Bo’s truck was out front, and the ripped screen door banged in the breeze making a home in the cadence of the wilderness surrounding. Footfalls fell along the creaking steps and inside the home. Everything went silent once inside the crumbling walls. A shape of a man sat on the couch in the darkening home, he didn't bother with the lights because he probably didn't even realize the sun was going down.

Bo was gone. Gone in his dangerous thoughts.

It had only been a handful of times Bo allowed you to see him this way, just his shell, broken and tired. Tired of fighting, tired of his own mind. You were the only person he let see this side; Vincent had caught glimpses but then would get yelled at through a fit of triggering rage. To Bo you were the only person that could truly help him from the demons, beckoning him to the shadows, just like where they called and ultimately found home in his father; gun in hand and blood on the walls. It was the only way your nightmares -future premonitions- found Bo at the end. Dying by his own hand. Hands that could rip away just as easily as they could build and hold. Hold you.

Placing your bags down on the pool table to your right, you quickly shouldered off your jacket and carelessly kicked off your shoes among the other mess.

There you sat with him, not touching Bo, you just gave him time, hoping and praying he would just snap out of it and continue to lay on his charm, but that never came. Bo didn't even acknowledge you, not a glance, not a touch to your thighs, nothing. As still as one of the wax figures he sat, slowly breathing in and out, rubbing a thick thumb over the lip of the amber-coloured beer bottle dangling between his oil-stained fingers. The bottle was not even half-finished and it had begun to turn warm, the condensation gently letting a drop fall to the dusty floor every few minutes. Bo wasn't drunk yet, not even close, by the looks of it he had only taken one or two gulp's and let it hang there, warming in the Louisiana air some time ago. 

This is was the worst you had seen him, you could tell Bo's mind was racing with the shifting of his baby blues that seemed fixated on the old books and candle wax.

You knew that you needed to touch him but your hesitation ran deep and cold; Bo was like a beaten dog and touching him was a dangerous game, especially in this state; he could either lash out and hurt you or he would just leave from the embarrassment of you seeing him as such. Anything was worth a shot right now. You needed him back.

Gingerly you brought a small hand to his broad coverall covered shoulder, grazing the rough fabric Bo shuttered at the touch, his eyes became alive again as your other hand went to his thigh. “Bo... my love, it’s ok” 

His breath hitched and he snapped his head in your direction, you could see the fear, the torture in his features as his breath began to pick up through rosy agape lips, clutching the beer bottle like a lifeline. Bo looked scared. Scared of his thoughts. Scared of his memories. Scared by the fact that the demons had held him under the waves for so long just waiting for the bubbles to stop. Bo was almost a different person in this moment, he let his emotions twist his face openly. His pain was greater than his pride, you felt it, you could see it. Broken blood-shot baby blues were searching for something in yours, perhaps Bo was waiting for the taunting or berating or yelling his parents gave him when he was lost in emotions; but you smiled softly as a tear slowly formed along your lash line. 

This broke your heart to see him like this, but it broke him more allowing this vulnerability; He waited for you to rip out his throat like a wolf and spit back out in his face. You knew Bo had a tortured soul and a devastating past, he was held together like thin lines of glue to a broken mirror; one day the shatter was inevitable much to his dismay, but seeing it was too raw and painful yet, somehow beautiful in the torture. In this moment Bo was just a man, not the murderer of Ambrose or even the demigod he seemed to let you believe he was on the day to day, Bo was just the scared child of a broken home. 

“It’s ok baby...I’m here...” you spoke gently, grabbing the beer bottle from his right hand and placing it on the richly stained coffee table with a reassuring nod. “I’m here now” Bo didn’t speak and just watched you carefully like a wounded vulnerable animal to a predator. 

Slowly you placed your shaky hands along his angular jaw, feeling the slight stubble and running your thumb along the long jagged scar he wore with pride. Bo started to shift in the cushions, uncomfortable with the vulnerability and soft touches you placed on him. Some days it was more apparent than others that he was touch starved and didn't realize just how much he needed your fluttering fingers against his skin. Slowly you ran a small hand through his dark brown curls, cupping and now cradling the man you slowly pulled yourself to lay on your back, and brought Bo down with you, the couch springs creaking in defeat. 

His head laid upon your chest. He could hear your heartbeat. Proof that someone deeply loved him, had a beating heart that was fast and strong. You were here. You were not a figure of the town or a scared wounded woman in the chair or a ghost in his nightmares. You were here. It broke him more. He had something to lose now. Had a wound in his flesh that was you, it would never heal, and it stung every day waking up to you next to him, and tore a millimetre more with every smile.

Bo’s head rose and fell with your breaths as you slowly rubbed his skull and back, tracing the scars you couldn’t see under his shirt, just retracing from hardened memory. Bo haunted you. Hounded your thoughts every second you were together, and when you were apart it hurt, you missed him even though Bo was just down the hall. His sliver blade was lodged in your heart and it teased to make you bleed out.  

One of his large hands gripped the ripping old cushion as the other held your waist, unwavering. Bo inhaled your scent; sweetness of florals, softness of warm vanillas and the undernotes of him. A ghost of your souls intertwined in a dangerous perfume. And then a soft wail escaped Bo’s lips, --the breaking of the flood gates he held onto for so long-- with bared teeth against your shirt he pushed himself into you, almost wanting to hide away from the world in your ribcage. You gently cooed and hushed him, feeling the pain of his shattered soul. Hot tears stained your shirt as you held him tighter, as long as he needed, you were there. 

“It’s ok Bo... I’m here... you never deserved the hurt. Never.”

A broken crumpled mess you two became, melting together and running away like the wax of the candles. Holding each other until the morning sun showed its face, forcing the demons and hounds to retreat into the shadows only to surface later, but it didn’t matter, they were gone and Bo was asleep. At peace, as you counted his scars and recounted, as long as he needed you to hold him, you would. 

Broken and wretched like his parents taught him, a monster was asleep in your delicate hands, holding a beast, it ached inside your bones, and wounded you like a knife slipping in slowly and quietly between your ribcage, twisting with his every breath. You loved him and he loved you, in a broken mess. However long he needed you, you would stay.

#SAD BO #my writing #horror #slasher #slashers #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #x you #x s/o