#would I fraternize with him irl?

[an-architect-of-words]

I was watching a YouTube review for The Secret History, and the person voiced that there was nothing sad about Bunny’s death and that one could really only be happy about it, and that Francis was just there vibing the whole novel, not doing anything wrong. And that’s when I clicked off the review. I mean, this is fiction so you’re welcome to be happy Bunny died. He’s not real and also functions as a part of a story, and if you’re glad he’s out of there, fine. But I’m sorry I just do not think that was a happy occasion or that Francis was “just vibing.” 😭

[wonjns]

uncanny i. ∯

🖇️° pairing. . . lee heeseung x male reader

🖇️° genre. . . smut (w plot)

🖇️° summary. . . heeseung may not have been able to move on when his girlfriend dumped him, but he sure finds satisfaction when he takes particular notice of her twin brother.

🖇️° includes. . . bottom!reader, horny bisexual hee !!!, minor size kink, finger sucking, blowjob, dacryphilia, dry humping, orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex ( dont irl !! )

🖇️° WC. . . 6.2k 

° AN. . . literally my longest work yet, and quite literally the most random ass plot that came up in a random dream i had in a car ride!??!! except in my dream it was just full fledged cheating & while some fic plots are spicier that way i didn’t wanna romanticize cheating on ur partner bc thats icky LMAO. NOT PROOFREAD!! hopefully i can find time to come back and do so 😭 

. . . .% Part 2 ♡ % . . . .

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you and your sister were extremely alike in nearly every way possible.

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being fraternal twins, you the younger by only mere minutes, the two of you obviously weren’t identical - although most acquaintances and family friends would disagree. everything from your hair, eyes, physique, personalities, and even mannerisms... there was definitely no denying you were two of a kind.

naturally, being so alike allowed you two to kindle a pretty close relationship.

you both got along surprisingly well for a brother and sister, unable to remember the last time that you fought - quite the rare occurrence even for twins. even when you realized you weren’t straight, your sister was the first one to help you during the coming out process to your family, which was something you’d value forever.

your relationship was simply healthy and effortless, and you never hid things from one another. whether it was friends, food, fresh gossip, and sometimes even clothes; you shared everything.

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well, almost everything.

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the one thing your sister had that you didn’t, was her boyfriend, lee heeseung. and you’d be lying to say you weren’t a tad bit jealous.

heeseung was tall, tan, polite, kind, and had the most luscious, always-perfectly-styled hair. his jawline was sharper than a butchers knife, and his hands were big yet so, so soft. his legs were long and he had a prominent adam’s apple that moved in such a seductive manner when he would laugh or talk. god, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

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ok, you were more than a tad bit jealous.

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and that jealousy would only sky rocket to unbelievable lengths when you would hear the two of them fooling around in your sisters room, whose was just across the hall from yours. you weren’t exactly eavesdropping since your rooms were so close - you just couldn’t help but listen in as they would make out passionately, hearing a mantra of heeseung’s name being sung in between a sea of moans and giggles.

you fought every urge to touch yourself during those moments out of respect for your sibling, but Lord have mercy how badly did you want to be her in those moments.

feeling her boyfriend’s pillowy lips endlessly explore and tease your body; completely under his control. you would constantly have to snap yourself out of your delusions, putting your earbuds in and blaring the loudest song you could find in your library to drown out the never ending sounds of pleasure in the next room.

despite your raging crush on heeseung, you were over the moon with joy that your sister had someone like him watching over her and even taking care of your family from time to time.

they’d been together for around a year, and he would always bring over snacks and gifts to the house when he would visit. on days that he didn’t bring anything, he would cook dinner or simply take all of you out and pay without a second thought. your parents absolutely adored him. heeseung also always made it a point to be sweet to you, almost making it seem like he was dating you just as much as he was your twin. it wasn’t the best for your weak heart, but he would get you gifts, invite you to tag along on trips with them, help you with your homework, etc... he was beyond dreamy, he was just perfect.

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however it seemed your sister started to think differently as time went on.

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unaware of your blooming feelings for heeseung, she eventually started whining to you about his annoying tendencies, which in your opinion weren’t even that bothersome. just a few pet peeves here and there, differences in life goals after college, and other things of that nature. but according to your sister, it was mostly his apparent possessiveness that started to turn her off.

possessiveness?

no way. not heeseung.

at least not in the toxic way, right?

perhaps your sister was speaking some truth, or maybe she was just dramatic. either way, you knew you were biased towards heeseung regardless due to your irrational feelings; and the saddest part is that you were so whipped that you were okay with it.

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and then it happened - they broke up.

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ironically, it seemed to destroy your world more than it did your sister’s.

although it wasn’t an ugly breakup and they ended things on pretty good terms, you felt distraught. way too distraught for someone who wasn’t even a part of the relationship. at one point, you even resulted in begging your sister to get back together with him, playing it off as seeing heeseung as ‘a good older brother figure’.

truthfully, you just felt sick at the thought of not seeing him anymore. an entire year’s worth of the beautiful boy who graced your family with his presence would suddenly just disappear.

or so... that’s how a regular break up would work.

you started to grow a little confused when heeseung didn’t stop coming around.

it was sort of as if the breakup hadn’t even happened. you definitely saw him less, but there were still many days you would catch him freely roaming around your house and hanging out with your sister.

she claimed that they were still close, as they decided it would be best for them to just go back to being good friends. the rest of your family still held heeseung sized pockets in their hearts, so everyone was more than okay with him still being present in daily life.

you had no idea how they managed to return to normalcy after a year of not dating, but it really was like he remained big part of the family.

in reality, you were starting to see some of the possessiveness you were told about through his odd persistence. heeseung was obviously more in love with your sister than she was with him, and although it was a sad fact, he refused to move on. he had gotten used to this life, and wasn’t planning on switching things up anytime soon. he couldn’t let her go, and you could tell from the way he would still sneak adoring glances her way when she wasn’t looking. the metaphorical hearts never left his big, gorgeous brown pupils.

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it’s crazy how even after their separation, you still found yourself jealous. 

ㅤ

for so long you’ve wished that those glances would be sent your way. in the midst of wanting all of the older male’s fondness to yourself so badly, you started to imagine that your very own being was his object of admiration.

but it seems you were much better at imagining than you thought, because then it started.... actually happening?

you thought you were seeing things, but one night when heeseung and a few of your other friends were all over for dinner, you looked up from your plate to attempt sneaking yet another look at heeseung. you were obsessed with how his strong adams apple bobbed up and down while he drank - yet your attempt to discreetly cop a stare ended in you immediately locking eyes with him. you darted your gaze elsewhere in order to play it off, but you saw from your peripherals that he maintained his stare on you.

you lightly coughed, praying that your blush of embarrassment from getting caught wasn’t too obvious... although you were sure he had been looking at you first. when you built up enough bravery to look in his direction again, you were met with the view of him eating his noodles as if nothing happened at all. you were puzzled, but convinced yourself that you were making something out of nothing.

you were wrong - it was very much something.

over the next few weeks you would constantly catch heeseung’s heavy stare on you, and he even started looking smug the more your glances would catch each other’s. he’d consistently offer you the same god-forsaken smirk whenever you’d fail to disguise your flustered state each time.

one afternoon, you were in your room sitting criss-crossed on your bed, typing away an assignment on your laptop. as usual, your door was open, and you suddenly felt a presence step up to the doorway. when you looked up, your stomach tightened at the sight.

heeseung and your sister were also gym buddies, and had just gotten home from another one of their workouts. they were heading to relax in the living room, but during the small journey heeseung stopped at your door in all of his sweaty, toned glory. 

his wet hair stuck to his forehead and his glistening biceps were exposed thanks to his tank top. you were drinking in his whole body, from his muscular calves to his chest peeking through the tight fit shirt. it felt like manual labor to drag your eyes back up from his grey basketball shorts, where his naturally large bulge practically sat in full display. he just stood there, staring you down with yet another smile while your mouth was damn near watering.

“w-what? do i have something on my face?” you finally said aloud in a joking tone.

“nah.” was all he said before chuckling lightly and walking off. 

you were weirded out, but couldn’t take your eyes off the muscular back that his sweaty shirt clung to.

⊱────────────────────────⊰

these strange encounters had somehow become part of the daily routine, and it was driving you crazy. you never understood why or how heeseung managed to leave you a hot and bothered blushing mess with such minimal effort.

now, a couple days after the awkward post-gym moment, you were perched up on your kitchen counter. your parents had left to go on a business trip that they claimed would last a couple days, and they asked heeseung to play babysitter. although you and your sister were capable young adults, you did both have admittedly clumsy tendencies - nearly burning the house down on several occasions due to being home alone together.

after lounging around all day in nothing but a huge hoodie and your boxers, you realized it was getting dark and you hadn’t had any food at all. your sister would’ve taken initiative to cook something before she left for her night classes, but she seemed really stress about an exam she had that evening. even more inconveniently, you didn’t have the slightest clue where heeseung was in the house - what an amazing babysitter he was. you decided to take matters into your own hands and make yourself the only thing you knew how,,, waffles.

you had managed to whip up a pretty good batch, but discovered that someone had finished off the last bottle of syrup. so, you were forced to climb up the counters in order to reach the new bottle that your genius father had to keep at the tippity-top of your cabinets.

just as your hand was about to grab the bottle, you heard chuckling erupt from behind you. you whipped your head around, seeing heeseung for the first time all day.

he was standing at the other side of the counter with an amused smile on his face. it looked like he was lounging around for most of the day too, his hair slightly disheveled (but somehow still perfect). the tight fit sweater he wore was also tad wrinkled, but hugged his broad chest all too well.

“well look at you, little lemur. you really do remind me of your sister, you know? she does that same climbing shit.” the older male chuckled at your position. “one of you are gonna get hurt one day.”

“well i wouldn’t really have to worry about that if my caretaker would do what he was here for. i’m starving.” you huffed, sitting your butt on the counter and crossing your arms playfully.

heeseung calmed his laughing fit and prodded his tongue on the inside of his cheek when he noticed your short boxers peaking from underneath your hoodie. he was silent as he walked up to you, his confident sauntering causing a wave of nervousness to rise in your bones.

when he finally came face to face with you, he reached a hand up to the cabinet above your head. he didn’t drop his intense eye contact with you or the smirk plastered on his painfully handsome face. he easily grabbed the syrup bottle, lowering it to pop the cap off and place it in your hands.

“you could’ve just asked me for help. it must be a twin thing to be stubborn.” he spoke almost in a whisper, not backing away from you despite finishing his task.

you slowly took the bottle from him, and placed a hand on his chest to push him away out of fear that he’d see your reddening face. but your efforts were futile as heeseung didn’t budge an inch, his pearly whites only revealing themselves more as he grinned. you scoffed a little bit and tried to push again with more force this time, but your smile instantly dropped when he enveloped your hand in both of his, forcing you to maintain your touch on him.

“and now you wanna fight? so you’re both spunky, too.” he quipped, but this time the tone in his voice almost mimicked a sense of wonder as he studied your face.

“....you’re dumb. anyways,, thanks for the syrup...” you try to dismiss, attempting to hop off the counter.

you barely get to move an inch, though, before heeseung released your hand and grabbed both sides of your waist, pushing you farther back on the granite countertop. the sudden movement caused you to jolt, squeezing the opened syrup bottle in shock. you whined seeing the sticky sweetness oozing around your hand. your eyes shot back up to your sister’s ex, your eyebrows furrowed in more confusion than annoyance.

“tsk, tsk, tsk, your parents were right, you really are a clumsy boy... so messy.” he commented, gently but firmly grabbing the wrist of your syrup covered hand.

your body felt a warmness surging through it from his touch alone, but you tried to keep your cool as his eyes intensely examined you. however, nothing could have prepared you for the unstoppable heat that surged through you when he sucked a couple of your fingers into his mouth.

you gasped, sitting there in utter shock. you felt paralyzed and speechless, unable to look away as heeseung’s mouth cleaned your digits of the sugary substance one by one. the feeling of his tongue swirling and prodding against the pads of your fingers was enough to make your cock twitch in your underwear.

your lips were parted in a silent breath as you tried to process what exactly was happening. just before you could snap back to reality and call his name in disbelief, he hummed around your fingers before releasing them from his warm mouth.

“i see the way you look at me,” heeseung murmured in a low octave, drawing closer to your face. “it’s how she did when she still loved me.”

you felt a lump in your throat, knowing he was referring to your sister. you could only offer breathless babbles while your mind began hazing over from your close proximity. you could already smell his addicting cologne invading your atmosphere.

“wha....what? hyung... i don’t know what you’re talking about but-“

“those eyes. those beautiful fucking eyes... they’re the same. i just wanted to make sure.” he continued.

you still felt immobilized as he softly nudged your nose with his, butterflies erupting in your stomach. he brought one of his large hands up to cup your jaw. his thumb lightly rubbed back and forth on your cheek, and you had to fight the urge to let your eyes droop closed and lean into his touch.

“your skin,, just as soft as hers... no, softer.”

you could only sit there nervously while he stared you down in a drawn out silence that had you squirming under his attention. he was making all these insane comparisons between you and your twin, but you were too enthralled that his attention was finally on you to care. this felt like one of your dreams- but you knew for sure this wasn’t a dream state when you felt your cock harden at the sight of heeseung’s eyes rolling back to the sound of you whimpering.

“you even sound the same... prettier... oh god, you really are just like your sister.” heeseung all but moaned, not wasting another second before smashing your lips together.

you couldn’t believe the feeling that overcame you. 

you groaned into his mouth from the unexpected turn of events, causing him to kiss into you harder. the force of the kiss caused your head to bump into the cabinet, eliciting another whimper from you. this was something you’d been fantasizing over for a year, and the only thing that kept you from passing out in that moment was your need for him, not wanting to miss a second of it.

his plush lips worked into yours with an intensity that made you tighten your thighs around his waist, an action that only solidified his bulge. he hummed into your cavern, his grip on your face tightening as he licked his way into your mouth. the sensation of tasting the syrup he cleaned with his eager tongue was almost too much to bear, causing your hands to land on his wide shoulders.

heeseung couldn’t seem to stop releasing sounds at every little action you took. the way your body reacted to him perfectly mirrored how your sister’s did in the past, and it was turning him into a mad man. he was getting aroused, and fast. you tried to break away from the kiss for air, but he swiftly grabbed behind your head and forced your lips back together in a millisecond, drawing another long whine from you.

he groaned at how you clung even tighter to his shoulders, his tongue deliciously exploring your mouth and memorizing its grooves. you’re pink muscles ran over each other as he licked stripes along your teeth, your thighs involuntary pulling heeseung closer to you.

you felt heeseung begin suckling on your tongue when he felt your erection press up against his torso. his mouth happily swallowed your deep moans from the pleasure his abs provided your member even through the layers of fabric. his hands lied steadfast on your hips and encouraged you to grind against him - you complying a little too quickly, chasing that pleasure by messily bucking your hips forwards.

heeseung probably felt you going lightheaded, since he finally allowed you to break the kiss when you felt like your insides were burning. 

you panted heavily, dropping your head low as you refilled your exhausted lungs. heeseung’s hands quietly moved underneath your large hoodie, running over the soft expanse of your bare torso. he massaged your waist and lower back as he studied you with hooded eyes, becoming even more horny at the sight of you recovering from your attempts to keep up with him.

you looked back up at him with an expression of disbelief mixed with pleading for more, your glistening and swollen lips looking even more kissable than before. you still couldn’t process everything that was happening, but your body was aching for him too much to think.

“h-hyung,” you stutter repeatedly as your eyes fell shut, only being able to focus on his relentless hands caressing you.

they felt like large clouds gliding across you, soothing your hot skin. his continued touch felt comforting, but also teasing. it was like he was drawing you in, daring you to want more. your eyes were glossed over, mind running ramped with all of the things you wanted from him in that moment now that you were sure this was all real.

“yes, y/n?” he spoke with an innocent tone as he looked down on you.

you couldn’t find the words. you opted to only grind into him more with a desperate hope he would get the message. his hands may have been gentle on your body, but they were only working you up more. 

the tall male chuckled before dipping down to peck your lips a couple more times and grip two handfuls of your ass. you moaned at the sudden strength, moving as he urged you against his covered core. your mouth fell open at the friction of your stone hard bulges running along each other and his solid chest pressing tightly against your own. you immediately wished all the layers of clothes weren’t in the way.

“hee, please.... please” you moaned mindlessly as you continued chasing the sensation.

“please what, baby?” he cooed, watching you cling and rub against him like a needy puppy.

he almost lost his mind out of his own rising need, but he wanted to be fully present and in control of this moment. he wanted to catch every second of his ex’s twin brother fulfill the desire he still craved so badly.

before you could answer him, his hands continued to snake up underneath your hoodie and grip the nape of your neck, holding you still as he recaptured your whiny mouth. he was drunk on the way your smaller figure fit perfectly in his hands. the sound your pairs of lips made together during their tango was intoxicating. you swore you were floating among all the stimulation you felt. it was no wonder your sister couldn’t control herself whenever he was around - this man was addicting.

you actually did start to feel a bit of guilt once your mind shifted to your sister and what she would think if she saw the two of you like this. but it definitely wasn’t cheating, right? she broke up with him. although it technically wasn’t wrong, and certainly did feel all too right, your conscious felt heavy.

however, your body once again betrayed your mind’s attempt at rationalizing; you were just too lost in heeseung’s touch. 

the deal was sealed when the tall brunette started nipping at your bottom lip during your make out, forcing every other thought that didn’t have to do with his lips fleeing your head at super sonic speeds. there was no where in the world you wanted to be more than in between his teeth.

heeseung traveled to start sucking and licking on the sensitive skin of your neck, the building desire inside of you finally giving you the strength to form a proper sentence. 

“more, more, please heeseung.... ‘need you...” 

heeseung smirked into the crook under your jaw, having heard what he wanted. he littered the column of your throat in a few more kisses while grinding his hard-on teasingly against your hip bone, causing your hands to tangle in his perfect locks. before fully standing up again, he scooted you backwards until your head rested against the top cabinet once more. heeseung was so content with himself so far, admiring how good you looked with your already fucked out expression from just a bit of his foreplay.

he slowly reached forward, lifting up the oversized hem of your hoodie and pulling on the bands of your boxers. you both looked down to witness the small wet patch of precum that had left a stain.

“such a needy boy... you’re my needy boy now, aren’t you?” he asked while grinning almost sinisterly at you.

you only whimpered and nodded, doing anything to earn relief for your now throbbing length. heeseung’s golden boy demeanor had changed in just a few short minutes, and you couldn’t fathom how hot it was.

he then shimmied your boxers down until they hung loosely around your dangling ankles. he then sunk to his knees, eye level with your exposed member. you squirmed again under his intense gaze, feeling vulnerable. he looked up at you with those bambi eyes, giving you a reassuring smile as if he could read your mind, and started kissing up the inside of your thighs.

“don’t be nervous, little one. you look so fucking good.” he mumbled between kisses, sucking the thin skin of your thighs between his teeth the higher he got.

you labored your heavy breathing, silently pleading for him to just touch you already, but he seemed so content covering every area except where you needed him most. each of his kisses were sending static through your sensitive skin, and the sight alone of him leaving marks on you was enough to make you moan while continuing to rub your hands through his hair. but you still needed more.

heeseung then teased the underside of your shaft with short licks, causing you to babble gibberish pleas out loud. but no matter how hard you pathetically tugged on his hair, he was determined to go at his own pace. his kitten licks felt like they lasted an eternity while he massaged both of your bare thighs. but once he was content with your whines he finally gave you one strong lap from your sensitive testicles to the head of your cock, taking all of it in his mouth with ease. 

your eyes screwed shut when you felt his skillful tongue massage your length while he sucked slowly and passionately. you physically couldn’t stop his name from flowing out of your mouth upon feeling all the pleasure. 

heeseung only worked you for a minute before he released a deep moan from how your fingers kneaded his scalp. the vibration caused you to twitch, and heeseung had somehow managed to read your mind again - and he wasn’t going to let this moment end so soon. 

he released your cock from his plump lips, much to your disdain. 

“hyung, please. please. i was so close, i was so so close.” you pant, pulling at his forearms when he returned to his feet.

the older male couldn’t stop himself from smiling sweetly at your shameless begs, his own neglected cock tight in his shorts. 

“i know, angel, i know. but my pretty boy didn’t want to finish in my mouth so soon, right?” he cooed while stroking your marked thighs. 

but you did, you really did. you wanted to feel his warm cavern around your begging cock forever. his baby talk also didn’t help your growing frustration of having the man of your dreams tamper with your sensitive state.

your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he jerked his head backwards before your lips could touch. he loved watching your furrowed brows of frustration - it reminded him so much of your sister it was insane, but he was starting to think about how much cuter it looked on you.

you tugged on him again like a toddler with their mother at a toy store.

“hee, look, I just-” 

and then you both heard it, the front door opening. 

your sister was home from class. you felt your face go pale, and heeseung felt all his blood rush south. if his erection wasn’t already as hard as humanely possible before, it definitely was now. his widening grin only scared you more, and you almost shrieked when he effortlessly scooped your bare bottom off the counter, hauling you to your bedroom. 

you clung to him tightly, too petrified to even utter a questioning peep to him as you heard your sister’s keys jingle while making her way through the house. 

once you reached your room, he slammed you against your door. 

“oh my god, what are you do-” 

and suddenly you’re down three unfinished sentences, heeseung’s pillowy lips molding with yours. this kiss wasn’t quite like the others, as its passion caused your air suspended toes to curl. you could feel your eyes cross and your legs squeeze around his waist as he kissed your breath away, one of his hands reaching up to hold your neck in firmly place. he ground his hips into yours, a mewl threatening to escape. 

you didn’t dare let out a sound, though, especially after hearing your older sister’s footsteps quickly approach your door. she rapidly knocked on the wood that your back was pressed firmly against, you being able to feel the worry through the vibrations.

“y/n?! are you alright? what was that banging I just heard?” she called in a panicked tone. 

heeseung released your lips, gawking at your attempt to come back to your senses. his hooded gaze on you was intense, and you knew he was ordering you to answer her. your blood rushed through your veins in adrenaline, and you were so aroused you weren’t sure if you could even speak. but you had to.

“y-yeah!” you stuttered, pacing your breathing. “i’m good, just tripped trying to rearrange in here.” 

you pray she can’t hear your panting from the other side as it increases with nervousness, and with the way heeseung was smirking at you. he tightens his grip on you as he leans in and licks a slow trail from your collarbone to your earlobe, causing your jaw to hang open and press your hips forward.

“oh, ok?” she replies skeptically. it then goes silent. 

you and heeseung scan each others eyes, and you wanted to beg him to stop, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. you didn’t know how much longer you could last, but the whole situation had the fire in your stomach only growing hotter.

heeseung took the initiative and enveloped your mouth once again, grinding into your bare hips torturously slow in order to not rattle the door. it took so much strength to stay quiet that you swore you were losing your sanity. you started to care less and less about getting caught as heeseung sucked on your bottom lip before his tongue started tracing shapes into the roof of your mouth. you almost allowed a groan to escape your throat before you heard your sister speak up from outside again. 

“wait?? where’s heeseung at? i saw his car in the driveway.” 

you panicked, your heart sinking to your gut. you looked at heeseung questioningly, pleading for an excuse. he simply rose his eyebrows at you with no solution, diving back in to nibble at your earlobe. you couldn’t believe he was leaving you to deal with this. 

“uh-... i don’t know?” you called back, rummaging your brain for details. “i think he walked over to the neighbors to ask if we could borrow... um,, syrup.” 

heeseung smirked into your skin, nearly chuckling aloud. he adjusted his hold on you and in seconds you were zipping through the air again, being hauled back-first onto your bed. 

“the neighbors??” she replied, sounding in disbelief. “but these waffles out here look fine... can I have some if you’re not gonna eat them?”

“sure, go ahead.” you mumbled as heeseung triumphantly nipped at your collarbone, your breathless tone almost giving you away. 

you relaxed as you heard her finally shuffle away from your door. you released a deep sigh and your hands frantically helped strip heeseung of his shirt. your breath hitched at the sight of his perfect body - all of his time at the gym were clearly paying off. your hands immediately ran over his warm abs and solid chest, nearly drooling at the smoothness under your touch.

this only made heeseung smirk with pride. after letting you have your fun, he caught your hand and started littering kisses from your wrist, up your forearm, and past your biceps. you felt his tongue drag across your limb ever so lightly, and it made your head spin.

heeseung, hovering over you, had just started sucking harshly on the crook of your neck before your sister’s shrieking voice rung again, causing you both to jump. 

“AND Y/N!!!!! how many times do i have to tell you to STOP leaving your underwear laying around the house?!!”

you gasped, forgetting how you were stripped and whisked away before being able to clean up anything. 

you offered a weak apology, trying your best not to mewl as heeseung licked slowly over the red marks forming on your body. 

“oh baby, if only she knew you won’t be needing those any time soon.” heeseung whispered devilishly in your ear, causing heat to rise to both your face and manhood. 

after waiting for the coast to finally be clear, heeseung made sure both of your clothes were removed, except your hoodie, which he simply bunched up around your chest. you didn’t know it, but it was exactly how your twin looked when he claimed her for the first time - and seeing the same thing done to you made his member twitch uncontrollably.  

heeseung could’ve prepped you, but the both of you were so desperate after all of the build up he knew neither of you could handle it anymore. now, he just wanted to make an utter mess of you. 

he grabbed a gentle hold of your member, stroking as he aligned his hard-on to your bottom. 

“is my baby boy, ready?” he questioned, in which you could only eagerly nod. 

he began pushing himself into you, and the stretch had proven to you that he was so much larger than you even expected. you bit on to your knuckles to prevent from crying out, knowing that your sister would 100% hear you from the kitchen. 

heeseung watched you contently as he continued to push into you, absolutely reveling in your contorted face. while you were fully focused on taking him, he could see you holding back tears and cries, and he didn’t like it. he needed to hear the same angelic noises that he had pulled out of you earlier, he was high on them.

he bottomed out in you, and froze, allowing you to adjust. your arms wrapped around him and pressed your bodies together as if your life depended on it. when you signaled for him to move, he remained still, drawing another soft “please” from you. 

instead, he craned his neck down slightly and bunched your hoodie up higher, pressing his tongue flat on one of your nipples. 

you let out a gasp, much too loud, at the electricity you felt. once heeseung started sucking your hardened bud, you swore you could climax from that alone. you pathetically bucked your hips, tears starting to brim at your eyes as heeseung switched back and forth between your extremely sensative buds. he lapped at your nipples like they were candy, and you were absolutely begging for him to start thrusting into you. you wanted to feel all of him so bad, and swore you were going to evaporate if you didn’t come soon.

heeseung looked up at your tear strained face, and felt like he was in heaven.

“ah, there’s my weeping angel.” he cooed, dragging his tongue up your cheeks to catch your salty tears. 

he groaned, kissing you on your nose gently before he finally gave you what you wanted. with a strong roll of his pelvis, you felt a wave of pleasure and pain take over you. you were sent into the stars as heeseung progressively picked up speed, and you could feel your legs quaking. the taller male pressed his body harder into you, cradling your head in both of his hands while his thrusts continued. he was obsessed with how your adorable face looked amidst the overwhelming pleasure, and he swore you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. 

the way your walls clenched around his large cock made him moan, also too loudly, but you two were much too far gone in each other to care.

“you’re doing so good for me, prince. oh my god, you’re so pretty.” 

you chocked back sobs, running your hands up and down his defined back. 

“s-so, big,” was all you could mutter, yet still it made heeseung’s heart burst with even more confidence.

he saw your attempt to keep speaking, and gently hushed you with kisses to your lips. he savored the taste of you, your entire essence running wild through his senses. you two lived in the euphoric moment for a short while longer, before you moaned at the overwhelming feeling of your cock brushing against heeseung’s abs.

“i’m-.. heeseung, i’m gonna...” you gasped just above a whisper, your hold on him tightening. 

“let it go, baby. come for me,, right now.” he spoke, trapping your lips completely in his. 

you moaned into each other’s mouths, you spilling your love liquids along his torso while he emptied into you. he ran his fingers along your hair, massaging into your scalp while you both rode you highs. 

after finishing, heeseung collapsed next to you, keeping a hand attentively behind your neck. you lied there for a minute, completely on cloud 9, before you looked over to see heeseung watching you with a fond smile. his bare chest, slightly covered in your arousal, rose and fell theatrically with his breaths - and if you weren’t so spent, the sight would’ve worked you up all over again. 

you rolled over to your side and held your arms out to him, and he didn’t miss a beat to pull you in closer to his embrace. you sat there and exchanged affectionate stares through your mutually beautiful eyes, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“hyung, i’ve wanted this for a really long time.” you murmur timidly, softly stroking his bicep with your smaller hands.

heeseung’s signature grin grew on his face once more. 

“i had no idea how bad i wanted it... but now that i have you, don’t expect me to ever let go.”

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[madstronaut]

it is currently madstro'clock and it is FaFiCoWriYear in this house

the original FaFiCoWriMo post feels too long to keep reblogging but I'm choking laughing right now because I decided to link it and this image above is what I see - FUCK IT WE BALL 😂😂😂😂😂😂 (truly my whole tumblr vibe)

me: gonna plug away at commenting on all the fics I’ve read lately that I love hmm should take a break 

also me: *takes break by looking for other fics to read*

I was completely taken off-guard by stumbling on this fic while mindlessly scrolling on tumblr and having it show up in my recs, so yes i live-blogged by reading even though I HAVE SO MANY OTHER DRAFTS OPEN BUT IT'S COS I END UP RE-READING CERTAIN FICS OVER AND OVER AND I KEEP FINDING NEW COMMENTS TO WRITE IM STILL THINKNIG OF COMMENTS I MISSED ON FICS I ALREADY COMMENTED ON BUT ANYWAY AHEM- 

without further ado, pls stay for the rambly thoughts, then flee in fright because of the increasing levels of unhinged commentar-

Reading: Touch-starved Nikto fic series by @keysorsomething

- "his current running theory was that you must have some form of brain damage. Perhaps you were dropped as a baby."

hehehehehehehe i swear nikto writers capture what i think would be his sense of humor with bullseye accuracy imho

- “His bright blue eyes broke through the dim lighting as if they were backlit by two LED bulbs in his skull.”

“You crack your eye open, meeting his piercing blue stare, like hot water down the back of your shirt.”

OMG TRULY THIS ENCAPSULATES THE EXPERIENCES OF BEHOLDING HIS EYES/WHAT I IMAGINE EYE CONTACT WITH NIKTO IS LIKE???

- “Maybe you could weird him out enough for him to leave you be..?”

literally held my breath reading the next few paragraphs til I read “He’s very gentle”

I don’t know what exactly it is about gentle touch but it can cut through people’s armor & walls like butter IRL and in fic and I JUST *am exploding, cannot type further*

- “His eyes looked like he was blinking on occasion, which was actually mildly upsetting because there goes your Christmas present for him.”

honestly what a thoughtful gift for the reader to get him eyedrops lmao *tell me u have a crush without telling me u have a crush, oh nothing just got you an extremely specific gift cos I noticed small details about you*

- “Did this count at fraternization?”

LMAO READER THIS MADE ME CRY LAUGHING “Im SORRy i woNT TOUCH HIM WITH TWO FINGERS AGAIN, IM SORRY I MISSED IT IN MY CONTRACT COS I WAS TOO BUSY STARING AT ALL THE $$$$-

- “I wanna know what’s up-” you pause “-man,” you tack it on, but quickly feel like you shouldn’t have. Who the fuck calls a guy like this man?

omg I am alr in love i fucking looooove awkward!readers

- trope alert trope alert trope alert STORAGE CLOSET READER? REALLY? (yes please god yes im so happy rn)

i would like to kneel before this all-powerful goofy ass awkward adorable reader who has nikto scared in a closet looking for ways out 

- “Not like that,” You correct, and he just eyes you more confusedly. “I mean, not yet..? Look,” You sigh,”

the “i mean, not yet” - like omg nikto if i was in ur shoes hearing this i would have to suppress the strong urge to immediately make out and probably fail to stopper the hearts exploding from my body (and ofc hide the involuntary boner popping maybe hello?)

- ““See you tonight,” Klaus mocks.”

i pity these fools, reader has just tamed nikto, i would beat all their asses immediately singlehandedly from the sheer high and power trip i would be on

- if someone referred to me as ‘one of the three snoopiest bitches on base’ i would get it tattooed on my collarbones probably

- ‘being called into König’s office and being scolded about fraternizing’ - thisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonigthisisaniktoficstopthirstingforkonig

- ‘His guns are neatly lined up against the wall, biggest to smallest.’

CUTECUTECUTECUTECUTECUTE omg i just know he prob has nicknames for them too

- ““Нет,” He replies firmly. He’s in more comfortable clothes, something you’ve never seen before.”

i am probably dating myself here but at the tight t-shirt and sweats description all i hear is BOWCHICKAWOWOWOWWWWW

- “Your eyes stay on him intensely as he lays down in the bed, sliding under the covers. “You are here to help us sleep,”

ok all my horniness left me (ok almost all not all of it of course not i would die) and i just felt so tender and awwwwwwww of it all, esp. the reader comparing his grip to a child with their lovie :( 

- “You see the faint, deep-brown shaping of his brows, his long eyelashes, the scar that covers the right side, but most importantly, the pale gleam of his skin in the little light.

He had washed the eyeblack off. And he had done it just for you.”

I am left speechless here; the buildup to this scene is storytelling and climactic perfection in my opinion

then i clicked on next part and it is titled “caught” and i screamed out loud lol

- “You dare to even think you want the world to melt away, for time to be this moment and this moment alone, always and forever, but should you really let him boss you around like that?”

looooooooove, totally captures that feeling when u have one of those 'time stands still/you wished time stood still' moments IRL

also YES READER WITH A SPINE/BRAIN IS ALSO MY OTHER KINK

- also as much as ive somehow developed a bizarrely unquenchable thirst for graves (do not @ me, i know, i have problems and I love it) canon graves is exactly how id imagine he’d be like in this fic esp with the constant mansplaining

- "How do you deny a masked man who’s speaking in his mother tongue?"

YOU CANT. YOU JUST CAN’T! IT’S A LAW OF NATURE. IT IS SCIENTIFIC FACT. IT IS IRREFUTABLE. IT IS ABSOLUTE TRUTH. IT IS DIVINE DOGMA. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL-

- “When you look into his eyes, you feel like he wants nothing more than to touch you, and you feel he agrees that this moment is ever so precious. But he doesn’t want to touch you. Perhaps he’s afraid, or perhaps he doesn’t like his face being touched, so he won’t touch yours. The Golden Rule and all that.”

“It’s all the best thing to ever happen in this place, and you have a feeling it’s the best thing to have ever happened to him.”

““Nikto?” You ask, voice soft and wavering, like if you speak too loud you’ll create a rip in space-time and it will have never happened.”

again i feel like someone has snipershot me to the heart with tenderness, everything about this fic and the premise just speaks to a core desire i have to create moments like this, to bypass someone’s armor and touch their heart, and be a source of healing for hurt just by the gift of our mere presence and vice versa - and have this moment and memory become an indescribable source of light and strength in dark and dreary times to be taken out and relived over and over again as needed (or is it just me that does this lol idk)  

fanfic writers never change and keep creating pls <3 ur words create worlds that inspire and brighten our IRL world <3

- i am deeply moved by the indescribable tenderness of nikto waking reader up by softly patting their cheek - this man known and infamous for his harshness and aggression - UNF

-  “As always, they are an icy blue that doesn’t match the feeling of having them on you at all. But by now they feel so much cooler than before, like a warm hug or a heated blanket instead of a hot iron.”

if you’ve known any blue-eyed folx up close i have most def seen their eye color change with emotions, sooo fascinating and hot

- ummmmm my jaw fucking dropped when i realized he leaned in…TO KISS HER? I THOUGHT HE WAS ALSO GONNA REST HIS EYES AND JUST SLEEP FOR A BIT NEXT TO HER? OMG the emotional rOLLERCOASTER THIS STORY HAS TAKEN ME ON *running to download it as we speak*

- BUT aHHHH HTHE ACTUAL SCREAM WHEN READER RUNS INTO KONIG

- omg when reader starting sniffling i just want to hug her and also go back in the room and yell at konig OMG YOU MADE OUR HIGHLY TRAINED PMC-LEVEL KILLER READER CINNAMON ROLL CRY I WILL HURT YOU SIR IDK HOW COS IM LIKE 5’2 BUT IF I HAVE TO CLIMB U LIKE A TREE TO DO SO I WILL TO GET IN YOUR FACE-

- “Who the hell can you trust? Both not to talk, but also with Nikto.” - ends up being Velikan meanwhile me busy shredding the post-it behind my back hoping/suggesting it’s dmitry bale and trying not to cry- (ignore me dmitry is my current hyper fixation)

- i wont lie i am both so heart warmed by how tender and sweet reader is for being so good at reading body language and also laughing my ass off at her having this kinda complicated conversation with velikan who does not talk, mostly growls also while typing this his name autocorrected to pelican and i cannot stop fucking laughing

- omg DMITRY REFERENCE I SCREAMED OUT LOUD (it’s like 1130pm where i am, sorry to my apt neighbors)

- also omg i am crying at this allegiance letter with sputnik, i love both how thoughtful and it is and how it highlights each member and their personality - and that the return of sputnik returned some good memories back to nikto <3, shoutout to any PTSD folx who also deal with blankouts, flashbacks, and having good memory recall be a total struggle street - i think i would openly sob if someone did for me the emotional equivalent of what velikan (and allegiance and by extension reader) did for nikto here with sputnik <3 (and now im remembering IRL times people have done this for me and now im crying omg THE POWER OF FANFIC Y’ALL)

-AH YEGOR CAMEO? MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR IN ALL OF COD? (madstro, there’s only one ukrainian operat-SHUT UP I SAID MY FAVORITE UKRAINIAN OPERATOR SHOWED UP)

- also i love how Velikan is written here - “This motherfucker was going to get him put on Fatal Attractions.” i would chill and fuck with him and also probably kill for him hahaha jk or am i-

- very into this irresponsible driver yet simultaneously responsible dog dad rodion rn

- also love the small touch of velikan removing his mask to look yegor in the eye asking if krueger is dead or not

the absolute ride this fic took me on???? incredible incredible incredible this is going in my list of top favorite COD fics @keysorsomething and if i could boost this in the nikto fics tag i would but i'll mostly just be salivating here in the corner over this fic in the meantime, tyvm <3

[childotkw]

So I’m assuming this will be addressed in Fractured Hearts but are Riddles followers aware of how deep the relationship is (besides Barty)? I’m assuming not but I’d be interested to see how many of them react to it besides that little snippet you gave us awhile ago of Bellatrix, Snape, and Lucius. Not just them but others as well seeing how anytime a relationship between them has been mentioned or suggested (at the top of my head I believe those times have been Sirius and Tonks when Hadrian spat back at Dumbledore about Riddle wanting to Fuck him, Riddle telling Lily that Hadrian in his bed looked splendid, Pettigrew mentioning the age difference, and the Lady when she was told they had fucked) it’s met with revulsion one because Riddles a Dark Lord and two because Hadrian is still a minor , the minor thing especially because I think many people disregard there even being a relationship because of the age gap and then are disgusted that it’s even a thing when they find out, also because peoples versions of what the Dark lord looks like varies in who you talk to so the general public might think of Riddle as his Voldemort persona if it ever gets out. I think it’ll be really fun when Hadrian is older in Fractured Hearts and rumors surface at some point of him “Fraternizing with a dark lord” as Riddle put it, when he was younger and it affecting his standing in the French political world. I’d be interested if when people do find out whether they think Hadrian was fucking Tom Riddle the professor (which, yikes favoritism), the Dark Lord, or what he actually looks like or alternatively the secret of them all being the same person and Riddle looking completely different to the first two surfaces. I’m assuming there’s going to be a lot of pity for Hadrian from those who don’t know him about it being a possible grooming situation if people thing it’s Riddle the professor. Also side bar, is Erebus the vampire that nodded to Hadrian in chapter 35 as he was getting ingredients for the doppelgänger spell to save Lily? Take as much time as you need for the chapter I’ll wait a million months if they keep coming out with the quality they have been. Have a good night/day <3

It will be explored!

You're right in that most of them haven't a clue. They might suspect that Voldemort is interested in Hadrian, but they think it's purely a recruitment thing to gain a foothold in France.

The only ones that know are Lucius, Barty, Narcissa and Bellatrix. They've been up close and personal to many of the story's events and have put it together - Barty has outright caught them making out, so he definitely knows what's up.

The general vibe from the Death Eaters not already aware would be either: confusion, jealousy, disgust or acceptance. Confusion because Voldemort's never really had a partner before, jealousy because they want it to be them, disgust because Hadrian's a 'muggleborn' in their eyes and not worthy, or acceptance because they're sycophants and Voldemort can do no wrong so Hadrian as his partner is just something they fold into their world-view.

The revulsion many people have when reacting to Hadrian and Riddle being together is less to do with the age thing (remember, Hadrian is seventeen so in the HP world he's technically an adult, regardless of IRL standards), and more to do with just how morally dubious it seems to an outsider.

There's the power imbalance most immediately find suspicious and think Hadrian's being coerced / blackmailed / forced (which is where the worry about the age gap issue connects into). There's the fact that Voldemort murdered his father and forced Lily and him to be on the run and live in fear. And there's the inherent assumption that Voldemort = evil, Hadrian = good, so therefore they shouldn't be allowed to be together least Hadrian be 'corrupted'.

But you're right in that if their relationship became public in Fractured Hearts, it would absolutely tank Hadrian's reputation in his home country. There'd be whispers that he's a puppet for Voldemort, there'd be a lot of concern over any policies he introduced and if they even somewhat reflected Voldemort's agenda. Corruption allegations would run rampant, and there'd probably be calls for an investigation / inquiry into their past with each other.

A lot of secrets would come to light - not least being the whole Harry Potter thing, which would explode into an even bigger mess for everyone. There'd definitely be a sect of people who would be very worried over Hadrian himself, and what being 'in a relationship' with Riddle while he was seventeen could have done to him, mentally, emotionally and physically. Which Hadrian would hate - the pity, the coddling, the taking away of his agency...it would be a nightmare for him to deal with having such private aspects of his life blasted across the global news and having to deal with everyone's opinion.

Basically, it'd be a total clusterfuck (pardon my language).

And yes, Erebus was the vampire that nodded at Hadrian! He's a sneaky-sneak.

[saltymongoose]

Since everyone is talking about bringing other characters into MadCom, why not bring in the guy who is voiced by the same guy who voices Sanford? What if: John Captain (Tankman) was in Project Nexus?

I spent forever drawing Sanford’s hook. Also, I decided to draw the bois in a more canon like style than my usual style for a change.

I also imagine they would also do this and be like “YOU SOUND LIKE ME!!”

Anyways I hope you’re having better luck than I am IRL, lets just say I went to the ER for leg pain and then got covid. Real fun times.

Oh god, I'm so sorry to hear about that. I hope you're recovering well from Covid and whatever caused your leg pain, remember to get a lot of rest and not overwork yourself in the meantime. 💖 (And thank you for the art, you've been sending me a lot of it and I appreciate it immensely haha. 💕)

As for the Sgt. John Captain appearing in Madcom with the Player, that would be extremely chaotic lol. I'm not quite sure what relationship Captain would actually have with you, since that would depend on how self-aware the characters could be if they weren't from a technical "game".

If he became aware of someone's eyes on him and the rest of the Tankmen during the moments of the series, then your explanation of who you are would probably be taken without much question. Though if he didn't, you'd have to talk at length about how you've, well, watched him and his group for a few years. Either way, you'd probably get a few crude jokes about you being a "voyeur" or something in the end, since that's just what he does.

With the boys, they'd probably be on alright terms with him, at least at first. Nevada fits Captain quite well; save for the noticeable lack of Tanks, the amount of violence is just like home for him. And the grunts notice how well he fights and acclimates to their realm, and that paired with how friendly and outgoing he is towards them would generally soften their immediate hostility towards him (barring Hank, of course). At least until they spend more time around him and find that he's a bit too friendly. Towards you, specifically.

Sanford and Deimos would probably get along with him well enough once they first met, even if his litany of dick jokes became a bit much at times (Deimos still thinks they're hilarious, but the timing can be off). However, the fact that he sounds exactly like Sanford causes a lot of confusion. Deimos will turn to Sanford only to realize he hadn't said a word, and even Doc would probably get them mixed up if he didn't check who it actually was. Sanford also would feel oddly self-conscious about it. Like his voice is, or was, something completely unique to him, so a part of him worries if he isn't as "special" in your eyes. You'll reassure him, of course, but also make it clear that the reason they sound so similar is that the same person "gave" their voice to them. Some guy named Jeff, apparently.

Hank and Doc, on the other hand, would have little patience for his jokes and how "buddy-buddy" he is. To begin with Hank, he isn't one to fraternize with his own comrades most of the time - sometimes he can't even tell Sanford and Deimos apart, that's how little he cares - so he's even less likely to bother getting involved with Captain. He doesn't respond to his jokes or his quips, instead leering at him whenever the Tankman comes closer to you. That's the most attention he'll deem fit to give him, though he might interfere physically if Captain seems to be a bit handsy with you. (Meaning when he puts a hand on your shoulder and leaves it for a few seconds too long, or touches your back when he moves past you. Hank's definition of touchy is quite broad.)

Doc just finds him to be a nuisance, to be honest; one "flirty" person is enough, but now he has to deal with another one who's far cruder, and a non-essential waste of medical supplies (harsh, but that's just his opinion). Having another person who's competent at fighting is beneficial, yes, but sacrificing resources and time with you because of it is too much of a waste for him.

Speaking of flirtatiousness, Captain's crude remarks are the main gripe your vessels have with him. Sure, he also aims his lewd jokes at them too, but they can ignore that. It's just somehow different when it's towards you, maybe just because they revere you so much and they find it disrespectful.

Or because Captain soon notices the weird way they act around you (he'd be an idiot not to, and he's not that stupid) and thinks that flirting with you - actually flirting and not just something the boys would misconstrue - is a good way to screw with them. And judging by the way they stiffen up and shoot him dark glares whenever he leans too close or boldly puts a hand on your hip, it works pretty well. Though that can't compare to how pissed they get when he pairs the physical gestures with a suggestive remark, or two.

(You paused from taking a sip of your soda when you felt Captain's shoulder brush against yours, turning to give him a curious look as he leaned up against the counter closer to you. He gave you a flirty grin, and you nearly snorted at how stereotypical he was being. If this was a sitcom, it would've been normal. Maybe.

"You know, if I'd have known somebody as hot as you were watching us, I'd have given you a bit of a show. I still can sometime, you know. All you gotta do is ask, sweet-cheeks." He followed up the remark with a smirk (and what you'd imagine to be a wink, if he wasn't wearing his helmet that is). How incredibly cheesy.

You blinked and cocked a brow with an amused look, but before you could respond verbally, the sound of shattering glass caught your attention, as did the cursing from Deimos. You turned and were met with the sight of the smoker on his knees picking up bits of porcelain, and your humored expression dropped to worry as you rushed to help him (his bandaged hands were only getting more bloody).

Sanford stood frozen beside him, glancing between you and Captain from over his shoulder as he bent to get a beer from the fridge. Doc was staring from over his tablet, and made no move to stop Hank from approaching when the taller grunt suddenly stood up to confront the Tankman. He was legitimately growling when he saw the smug look on his face, but Captain just smirked again and took a step closer to you, knowing that your red-gazed companion couldn't do a thing when they were in your company. Thought that didn't stop the feeling of uncharacteristic apprehension from welling up in his stomach. God, you really did keep the weirdest company, didn't you? (And yes, that includes himself.) He wondered what Steve would think about this.)

[mapofthesoul20]

TXT College AU Headcanons

Because TXT are officially in (Cyber) University, why not have some fun imagining the shenanigans they’d get into as average American college students? (All quotes are irl quotes by me and my friends btw XD) 

Yeonjun is the one who wakes up half of campus by screaming in the quad in the middle of the night. He is not drunk. 

Yeonjun accidentally becomes the poster child for the school and is in every ad because he is just that pretty and talented. The others never let him live it down

Yeonjun, two weeks of class left: “Is it too late to admit I don’t know what’s going on in this class?” 

Soobin was unanimously elected president of his fraternity. His frat is  actually like nice and chill, but they JUST NEVER LISTEN TO HIM. He leaves with a headache after every chapter meeting 

Soobin doesn’t understand how football works but shows up in full gear and face paint to every game 

Soobin: “If the teacher doesn’t show up in 15 minutes, we can leave”

Beomgyu is the one who burns the popcorn in the dorm at 3AM and triggers the fire alarm. Multiple times. Taehyun threatens to strangle him 

Beomgyu is on some obscure sports team, like archery or water polo, and Yeonjun is 100% convinced Beomgyu is making it up just to fuck with him

Beomgyu, crossing the street: “Go on, cars, hit me! Pay my tuition!” 

Taehyun is a lead in the a capella team (Sorry, I had to do it to someone XD). Takes them to Nationals with his rendition of Zayn Malik’s “Let Me”. (Soobin shows up in full gear to support) 

Taehyun is the friend who will always be there to help his friends move in/out, especially if there’s pizza offered. Be warned, he’s also the friend who will take a video of them when they drop something on their foot and are hopping in pain, posting it with a caption “Lol, what a loser <3″ 

Taehyun: “I should start carrying my knife around again.” 

Hueningkai’s family lives near by so he’s always hanging out with his sisters and doing laundry at home and at least once a week brings home a stray friend in need of a home-cooked meal

Hueningkai walks up to the ornamental piano gathering dust in the corner of the student lounge, plays the most hauntingly beautiful rendition of Mozart, says “I think aliens exist and we should be nice to them” and walks away never to be seen again

"Okay, what errors were made in this lab experiment?” Hueningkai: “Showing up to class.” 

Yeonjun gets drunk at frat parties and makes elaborate plans to kiss Soobin. Except he’s usually conspiring on said plans with a very drunk and very painfully oblivious Soobin

Taehyun and Hueningkai were roommates freshman year. First day of orientation, Taehyun claimed Kai as his and they’ve been bffs ever since.

Soobin: “This class is really similar to the one I took last year.” Beomgyu: “So you’re just taking the class again??” Soobin: “Well, if I wanted to change it, I would have to go talk to people...so yeah!”  

Hueningkai and Yeonjun sustain themselves off of cup noodles and whatever they can steal from the cafeteria (27 containers one time, but who’s counting). It’s not unusual to walk into the dorm kitchen in the middle of the night and see one or both of them standing in the dark slurping noodles with a dead look in their eyes

Beomgyu and Taehyun are each other’s go-to dates for Soobin’s frat’s parties because 1) It saves them the headache of having to figure out dates every time 2) they love to tease people who are jealous 3) who else is gonna turn up with them to “I’m a Barbie Girl” 4) It gives Soobin a migraine every time they clear the living room just to do a dance battle ending in Beomgyu dipping Taehyun, and really isn’t giving Soobin a headache one of the great simple pleasures of life? 

Soobin and Hueningkai one night were like, let’s get an ouija board. Immediate regret. Taehyun didn’t even bother trying to stop them, he just he hid in his room because he is a scaredy cat and smart enough to know not to mess with spirits 

Yeonjun and Beomgyu are straight A students which drives their professors crazy because they’re always talking loudly and goofing off together in class and taking up office hours trying to flirt with the professors 

Taehyun at the library: notebooks open, study guides neatly typed out, 10 highlighters and red pens at the ready, reading three books at once. Soobin next to him: gave up studying twenty minutes ago, downing a family-sized cheeto puffs bag 

Beomgyu and Hueningkai have movie nights in the dorm’s common room (often leading to said popcorn burning). They eventually get banned though because Beomgyu keeps screaming at the jump scares. And because they had reconstructed the entire common room into an elaborate fort 

When Taehyun gets really homesick he sleeps in Yeonjun’s dorm room, curled up on the beat-up bean bag and making that ‘Taehyun scream’ at anyone who tries to make him move. Yeonjun just feeds him snacks by hand and tries to convince the RA, No no, he swears, he really isn’t hiding a pet cat in his room 

Feel free to add more XD

[waateeystein]

My Victor Frankenstein Inspired D&D Character

So this is a little different, but I wanted to share my Victor Frankenstein-inspired D&D character with you all! (Requested by @frankingsteinery)

This is Temperance! Temp is a tiefling alchemist artificer, and I've been playing her semi-regularly for almost a year now. I am being intentionally vague about details because a few of my co-players are on here so I don't want to spoil anything that has not been revealed to them yet. I am also including a few art pieces I've done of Temperance for your viewing pleasure :)

Temperance has a fraternal twin sister named Prudence, and to make a long sorry short, the two of them spent most of their childhood/teenage years in an orphanage. And after a dragon attack destroys their hometown, they split off to new adoptive families, until ten years later when they reunite with each other and their adoptive siblings. This is where our campaign essentially started. (And for more context, we play in a homebrew setting which is fantasy based but has a lot of modern/cyberpunk-y influences.)

But how is Temperance like Victor you may be asking? Well, she is very different from him in many ways, but here is how she got her Frankenstein story. In the ten years on her own, she was a medical prodigy, and very quickly passed through med school and earned her Ph.D. in Orthopedic surgery (eat your heart out Victor lol.) Like Victor, she was highly interested in the humanoid body and wanted to figure out how life could be created. So in secret, she created Eve. Eve was created to be a sort of companion to the lonely Temperance, but tensions between the two heightened, ending in a violent encounter. Temp's creation was discovered quickly discovered afterward. Because of the innumerable ethics violations in creating her, her medical license was revoked, she was shunned from her professional community and was forced to shamefully return home to her sister.

In the time since the campaign started, the group has gotten bits and pieces from Temp about her and Eve. Most of them assume that Eve is the reason Temp is missing a horn. Eve also sends a frightening package to Temp and Pru, containing a threatening note and a set of eyeballs that match those of the twins. Temp also assumes that Eve is actively trying to hunt her down and possibly kill her.

This is the threatening note, which was a physical note my DM created and gave to me at one of the very rare irl sessions of our game. This note caused so many problems it was fantastic.

Unfortunately, I do not have any art to share of Eve at the moment. Because the other players have not encountered her yet and because of other more pertinent campaign things happening, I don't want to accidentally spoil what she looks like. But when I have the art and the time comes, I will absolutely share it here!

I do however have a Spotify playlist for both Temperance and Eve if that's your Jam. I think it's pretty good, and it was really fun giving it to the other players with no context before they learned about Eve (then giving them Eve's to speculate on after she was revealed.)

In conclusion, playing a Frankenstein-inspired D&D character is super fun. This is obviously just one way to go about it, but if y'all have your own versions I would love to hear about them. Frankenstein and D&D are my two favorite things right now and combining them makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrr.

[respirationalactress]

Monday night/ cancer new moon/ at 4:30am my dog cried for the cold

A mental block I have RE starting a blog is - what if I have nothing to say? And I rarely do, in the way that I never write; but I always do, in the way that I'm always talking. But I want to be writing, and I've listened to like 5 episodes of This Jungian Life pod recently, so I'm making a dream analysis blog in the hopes that my nonconscious dream mind will prompt the things that my hyper-conscious writing mind is too stage-frightened to type. An aspirational writing practice.

I was on a camping trip with my family, and I went to the top of the hill, where there was a servo. A delivery boy, a teenager, drove up to me. He had a parcel for me, but he was confused by the name. He was reading the company name, Vevoke. I didn't really care about the package, it was something for my old workplace, but I thought the kid seemed nice, so I asked him to show me around the town, and he did. I asked, don't you have more deliveries to make? He shrugged, no, I only had two or three deliveries today, and I get paid by the hour so I may as well take a while.

I had a nice time driving around with him. I could tell he could tell I was queer, and I felt an affinity with him, like we both knew that if two gays could randomly find each other in front of a small town servo and drive around some streets together in the afternoon then... idk, anything would be possible etc. It was nice. I dropped him off near the servo and went back down the hill to where my family had set up camp. It turns out my brother knew the kid somehow.

This is bringing up for me a queering the map flavour of nostalgia. The kid in my dream wasn't anyone I know in real life, and it's not the first time I've created friends in my dream. Often I create people I crush hard on, but this time I had a more maternal, maybe even fraternal feeling towards him. It's interesting that the character was so specifically a teenager who could drive and had a job. These were things I wanted when I was young and living in a small town. In comparison, there is a very specific mention of my old job in the dream. I'd just had dinner with a friend from that job in the irl hours before the dream, and we were talking about our boss, a deeply repressed, deeply misogynistic, trenchantly evil older gay man. I remember once he shouted "FUCK THEM IN THE ARSE" in a meeting, after hearing we got a leg up on our competitors. As someone relatively new to arse-fucking at the time, I felt so angry that a gay man would evoke it as a kind of capitalistic, domineering... man thing. Now I feel sad for him. Maybe he really does think anal sex is so abhorrent; maybe he and his partner only treat each other like mates until the lights are off, until they're drunk?

I like that in my dream I wasn't needed as some wise person who could help the kid step into his queerness or figure anything out. Being gay was never even talked about. In fact, it was the kid who had something to give me, in the form of a parcel, which I didn't really care much for except for that it brought us both into a presence with each other, where the presence and normalcy of a tension free gay friendship is what was needed. I think about this in the context of the pressure I feel by my desires to mother a child, to let them grow up with the whole freedom of their own self. I think about this in the context of the anger I felt at my dog, crying at 4:30am in the cold, crying for the heat of a proximate body, not needing me to fix anything, just needing me.

I dream of a world where young gay kids only have a few things to do as they cruise around town, where they can run into other queers and not feel the shame drilled into them push fear and blood into their faces, push them away from remembering the world at the top of the hill, the world that their bodies promised them, which was always theirs, to make echoes, to befriend, to arse-fuck in........

P.S. We need to save Colleen Ballinger's brother's dancing child.......

P.P.S. God save my little brother, a sparkie who has always somehow known about the gayness.

[clottedcreamtea]

after like a month??? of posting nothing, i present to you... 

CHAPTER ONE OF MY NOVEL!!!!!

i love royal mik tea and i am currently going through a difficult time in my relationship!!! ai absolutely ADORE my boyfriend but am having an awful time expressing it. my solution: write and pretend i am a happy cookie with a freinds to lovers plot instead of boyfriends to friends plot irl. things are rough rn. fr. 

i may go into the air force. hopefully this will be done by then.

enjoy!!!!!!

Prince of the Republic, that was what the servants called him. 

His pompous outfits and arrogant attitude left every Cookie on the island either jealous or angry at the young Cookie’s privilege and place of power. While description alone is enough for all other Cookies to understand who he is, some require to be told of him by name: Royal Milk Tea Cookie.

Seemingly arriving out of nowhere, the blue and white-adorned heir to the throne of House Oyster had gained a name for himself very quickly after Oyster Cookie introduced her only son. He was happy and easygoing, proud to please his mother with every task she assigned him. All the Cookies hated it. Oyster Cookie had not shown any signs of expecting a young heir, and yet here he was! Taking the throne and becoming a favorite child of the Convocation.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie,” Oyster Cookie would call across the manor. “Would you bring mother her morning tea?” 

“Yes, mother!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie would respond, quickly making his way to the kitchen with a tray of mugs on it, presenting them all to his mother whom he admired dearly.

The servants and Cookies would always spread rumors as far as they could before the Convocation of Elders would put a stop to it. Witches forbid that the name of House Oyster was plastered with the idea of nepotism and favoritism. House Custard owned those labels all for themself, already.

Houses Oyster, Custard, and Mille-feuille were the top-reigning Elders in the Crème Republic. They provided some of the most valuable assets, along with the most promising trio of young Cookies that would soon represent the Republic once they had grown to replace their parents and mentors. They could not allow rumors of poor representation to dirty their reputations. Apart from House Custard, of course.

Clotted Cream Cookie, the son of House Custard’s Elder, Custard Cookie, was being groomed to become the Consul of the Convocation of Elders. He was a beautiful Cookie, with a golden crust and cream-colored frosting hair. His father promised that nepotism was never going to be a factor in his training, though many Cookies suspected otherwise. Clotted Cream Cookie becoming the Consul was going to be based on skill alone, and if he wasn’t able to show that he had the talent, Custard Cookie promised he would find a new heir to his plot.

Mille-feuille Cookie’s pride and joy was Financier Cookie. She was similar to Clotted Cream Cookie in appearance, but couldn’t be more different in her training and discipline. She respected Mille-feuille Cookie intensely, as well as the fellow paladin-rearing House Madeleine and the paladins it had trained so many years before her. Mille-feuille Cookie believed that Financier Cookie had been created in the exact image of the Witches themselves, though the Convocation would never suspect she meant anything other than a strange compliment.

The three children of the Republic were topics of constant controversy, though they were entirely oblivious to the fact. Instead of investing their lives in the stress of their predecessors, they decided to fraternize with lower-ranking crowds along with each other, especially when their parents would organize their monthly political meetings, bringing their charges with them.

“Come on, Financier Cookie! We’re gonna be late to the party!” Clotted Cream Cookie called to his appointed guard. Financier Cookie’s training had begun about one week prior to this gathering, and Mille-feuille Cookie and Custard Cookie had agreed her first appointment should be guarding the soon-to-be Consul.

“It’s not a party, young sir. It’s a meeting for all of our parents to discuss their, um, politics.” Financier Cookie still wasn’t exactly sure what her guardian did, but she felt she had to sound smart as a house-appointed paladin.

“Well, it sounds like a party! Plus Royal Milk Tea Cookie is waiting for us to get there. You know he gets lonely without any other kids in Oyster Manor!” Clotted Cream Cookie darted to the door of the aforementioned manor, where all the Elders were being ushered inside, having their coats, hats, and other accessories taken from them at the door.

“Clotted Cream Cookie!” Custard Cookie called from just inside the large home. “Where have you been?”

Clotted Cream Cookie rolled his eyes at his father’s overprotective scolding. “I was admiring the gardens with Financier Cookie! Royal Milk Tea Cookie talks about them so often, I had to see them for myself!” The golden Cookie responded simply.

“I was with him at all times, sir Custard Cookie,” Financier Cookie assured with a polite nod.

Custard Cookie scoffed and adjusted his coat. “Alright. Don’t wander too far, tonight. Your future is a topic of conversation tonight, and I want to be sure you are here when I propose my plans.”

Clotted Cream Cookie nodded, and then took off toward the southern wing, where the entrance to the gardens in the back of the manor lay. Royal Milk Tea Cookie was almost always found behind his home, wandering around with all the imported tropical flowers that his mother would order her sea-faring Cookies to bring home for her only child. It was the least she could do, as she was almost always busy with her business affairs and collecting blackmail for every Cookie she interacted with.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie!” Clotted Cream Cookie called out. “Where are you?”

“He may be hiding in the greenhouse, young sir,” Financier Cookie suggested. “Don’t you remember last month, when he– AH!”

Royal Milk Tea Cookie burst out from behind the pair, erupting from a berry bush and grabbing hold of Financier Cookie.

“I got you! I got you!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie boasted. “You’re so difficult to catch off guard, but I got you! Oh, you should have seen your faces!” The young Cookie began laughing so hard he had to sit on the ground, otherwise he’d lose his balance. Collecting himself after wiping a tear from his pale blue eyes, the young prince stood up to greet his friends properly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting here for almost an hour! I bet mother is upset with us not being at the party, isn’t she?”

“Custard Cookie told us not to call it a party, young Sir,” Financier Cookie noted to Royal Milk Tea Cookie.

“Poo! I don’t care about Custard Cookie and what he thinks! It’s my mom’s party and I want to call it a party,” The dark-haired Cookie scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Royal Milk Tea Cookie!” A mature and proper voice called from the manor. “Your mother requests your presence!” Oyster Cookie’s head disappeared back into the manor, presumably returning to greet her guests and make small talk while gathering private information for each house she socialized with.

Royal Milk Tea Cookie grabbed Clotted Cream Cookie and Financier Cookie’s hands and began guiding the pair back toward the manor, where dinner was nearly finished cooking.

“Your mom is so much more polite to you than my father is,” Clotted Cream Cookie observed, studying the hand pressed against his with a flush of red in his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” The blue-eyed Cookie said simply. “She wants me to be a good Cookie when I’m older, so she tries to set a proper example.”

As the trio finally entered the manor from the doorway that Financier Cookie and Clotted Cream Cookie had exited just a few minutes prior, their ears were flooded with political conversation instantly. Mille-feuille Cookie was discussing plans for investment opportunities across the sea, Captain Caviar Cookie was assuring Mulled Juice Cookie that his trip to the Duskgloom Sea would yield impressive results, and Oyster Cookie was chatting aimlessly with Custard Cookie, making idle prattle to her most despised colleague.

“I’m here, mother!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie adjusted his royal blue skirt and pearl jewelry as he presented himself to his mother and the elders.

“Oh, my wonderful child!” The silver elder smiled widely as she tapped against the champagne flute in her hands, ending the discussion and bringing the attention toward herself. “My fellow Convocation members, we have had quite the year, with Custard Cookie, Mille-feuille Cookie, and myself all yielding impressive heirs to our houses. Captain Caviar Cookie is set to depart on his Duskgloom Sea venture once the month ends, and I will happily fund the trip as a proud Cookie of the sea.”

As she spoke, Oyster Cookie’s servants brought out a feast one plate at a time, jelly steaks, candy fish, and iced cakes all covering the long table at which the elders would soon dine.

“For tonight, I would like to simply invite you all to celebrate with a feast brought about by Captain Caviar Cookie’s expert hunting skills, and my wonderful investment. Enjoy!” The wondrous host took her seat and began to set food atop her plate as well as Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s.

“Do you want to sit next to me, Royal Milk Tea Cookie?” Clotted Cream Cookie turned to his friend, face still pink and hands still clasped together.

The Oyster heir smiled and nodded. “Of course! Financier Cookie can sit with us, too!” Royal Milk Tea Cookie gestured with a gloved hand for the long-haired Cookie to sit on the opposite side of Clotted Cream Cookie.

The adults didn’t speak any differently now that food was coming, but Mulled Juice Cookie certainly seemed to become much more chatty now that the sparking juice had been set out. “You said this was from the era of the Vanillians, Custard Cookie?”

“The very same we of House Custard descended from, yes,” The blond elder said proudly. Clotted Cream Cookie puffed out his chest with his father’s brag.

The father and son shared several glances as the night went on, and Royal Milk Tea Cookie couldn’t help but wonder what the two were cooking up. It was well known that the trio of children were all from the main houses in the Convocation, but what could that mean? Custard Cookie did love to grab at power… Royal Milk Tea Cookie shook his head and returned to enjoying his jelly steak, constantly smiling at Clotted Cream Cookie. (He would never admit it, but he had a little crush on his close friend.)

The young heir’s curiosity was soon answered, as Custard Cookie ended the conversation he had been having with Sable Cookie, and stood up to gather everyone’s attention.

“My fellow Cookies,” The bearded elder began, clearing his throat. “It is no question that one of the more powerful houses is mine, as a true descendant of the Vanilians,” Murmurs began, and Vanilla Sugar Cookie grumbled unhappily. She had been on the trip to the Creme Republic just as Custard Cookie had. “I have thought it over, and, to ensure that power can be withheld throughout generations of the Creme Republic, I propose an arrangement between heirs,” Custard Cookie finished with a tilt of his voice.

“An arrangement?” Oyster Cookie asked, scoffing lightly. “Power does not need to be upheld throughout generations. We are an oligarchy! The only name that references power is Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s nickname throughout the Oyster Manor, and even we know that’s a joke!” 

“Oyster Cookie, your Prince of the Republic could very easily become a true king if you would accept the arrangement I am suggesting!”

“Father-”

“Not now, Clotted Cream Cookie. You agreed to this.”

Royal Milk Tea Cookie tightened his grip on the blond Cookie’s hand in support. Financier Cookie looked as though she was going to be sick, which was impressive, as Royal Milk Tea Cookie had only ever seen her be near-emotionless.

Mille-feuille Cookie spoke up, “You are suggesting an arranged marriage between Clotted Cream Cookie and one of our children?” She asked, intrigued. “Well if your handsome son will have her, I’m sure Financier Cookie would be flattered to become the next Queen of the Republic!”

“No, stop!” Oyster Cookie stood up angrily. “This is an abuse of power! You can’t force your child into a false marriage just so you can remain powerful!” The other elders were growing restless. Custard Cookie was out of line and he knew it, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You would overtake the Republic’s Convocation system out of greed?” Captain Caviar Cookie clarified.

“We built this nation together!” Vanilla Sugar Cookie cried, outraged.

“Oh, please. Oyster Cookie, you are welcome to accept the proposition over Mille-feuille Cookie. We’re the top houses in the council! Your girly excuse for a son–”

Oyster Cookie slammed her hands on the table so intensely that several cups fell off the table, shattering as they hit the floor. The room was silenced.

“Everyone out.” The elder spoke simply and angrily, voice low and eyes narrowed. No one moved.

“Oyster Cookie, my dear,” Custard Cookie approached the elder, grinning like a fox. “Please, consider the power we could–”

SMACK!

“I said out!” Oyster Cookie’s hand was outstretched from slapping the Cookie across the face, and he stumbled with the force. Stuttering, Custard Cookie clumsily reached for his son’s arm and began to drag him out of the manor without another word. Clotted Cream Cookie was so shocked at the change of events that he had no time to say goodbye to Royal Milk Tea Cookie, only able to look back in sadness.

Mille-feuille Cookie stood up politely, ushering Financier Cookie out silently. The rest of the elders filed out as well, none of them wanting to further anger Oyster Cookie. The only elder that dared spare a glance of pity was Captain Caviar Cookie, who just gave a nod to the grey-haired Cookie and a ruffle of Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s hair.

Servants cleared out the dining room, picking up the shattered glass and clearing the uneaten food off the plates, leaving nothing left on the table apart from the tablecloth.

Royal Milk Tea Cookie approached his mother, holding her hand and looking up in sympathy. “Mother?” He heard Oyster Cookie sniffle. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, darling.” Oyster Cookie assured her son. “Mommy just gets protective of you. My mother wasn’t the best, and I want to be better than her, even if that means I have to be a little mean sometimes. How about we get you to your room for the rest of the evening, okay?” She brushed aside a lock of brown and white hair from Royal Milk Tea Cookie’s face.

“Okay, mother.”

The two climbed the double spiral staircases at the manor entrance, walking down one of the long halls until they reached a room at the end of the manor, where the bay window lie, as well as one of the best views to the manor’s front and back gardens. Royal Milk Tea Cookie began to search his drawers for pajamas, and his mother began to exit the room.

“Mother,” Royal Milk Tea Cookie started before his mother had a chance to leave him alone. “Will I get to see Clotted Cream Cookie again? Custard Cookie looked mad.”

Tears pricked the corners of Oyster Cookie’s eyes, and she shook her head. “I’m not sure, darling. We can talk it over in the morning.” Oyster Cookie shut the door quietly, and Royal Milk Tea Cookie was left alone.

[kaydear]

So I LOVED LOVED LOVED your Tech/Phee fic and would not be disappointed at all if you wrote more of them 😍 Not trying to put pressure on you at all, you do you. All I’m saying is that I have always enjoyed how you write romance and your fic was like medicine for my soul, especially after the finale. I would also not be disappointed at all if you wrote a Tech/Phee for your modern batch AU. Fraternization is one of my all time favorite fics and I’d LOVE to see what you’d do with Tech and Phee in your modern setting. Again, please don’t feel pressure to write more or anything, you do you. All I’m saying is I love your writing and you deserve to know it is appreciated and enjoyed❤️

Hello there ^_^ funny you should ask...

message waiting (4195 words) by kaydear Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Phee Genoa/Clone Trooper Tech, Phee Genoa & Clone Trooper Tech, Omega & Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Phee Genoa, Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, Gaming, Online Relationship, Online Friendship, Secret Identity, Autistic Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Developing Relationship, Romance, Awkwardness, Conventions, Texting, MMORPGs Series: Part 38 of modern batch Summary: Too soon, however, all but two players were wiped out—Tech and one other.  The other player, ‘Lyber8tress,’ fell back beside Tech. A Cleric, a tricky class to play solo, he gleaned that they were not a first-time player by how quickly they adapted to pocketing him, healing and buffing him as he took on the boss one-on-one. With their support, he was able to bring it down, and he helped himself to the minor amount of gold the encounter rewarded.  He also made sure to send a quick-key emote: Thanks for the healing! appeared over his character’s head, waving one arm.  To his surprise, a flag appeared on his HUD-customization symbol in the bottom corner of the screen. He toggled it open, and saw that he had a message waiting for him. Tech interacted with people so rarely in this game that he did not even set the messenger window into his screen.  He re-enabled chat viewer on his HUD and opened the message.  Tech makes an online friend--but meeting her IRL comes with its own set of problems, least of which being that they could end up more than just friends.

[myjennieblr]

Why is it so much fun to torture your characters?

We have been on a bit of hiatus from Avatar due to a bunch of awkward IRL commitments from our gaming group, and as I didn’t have a game write-up to do, when the itch to write hit, I ended up starting on Volume 5 of Honour and Obligation. (20K words so far...) Kagami, the endearingly naive thing, has not really had any kind of sexual awakening, having been far too used to people being repelled by her and therefore just not in the habit of ever considering romance or sex as something that would involve her. Also, she is very Sheltered Crane and while she knows that marriage is an expectation of her future, she’s... well, she’d rather stay with the person she knows loves and respects her - her cousin, her fraternal soul-mate - than deal with all that. But she has a secret admirer who is JUST as nobly Crane in terms of propriety, but who is hopelessly in love with her after what to Kagami was a simple act of kindness that lit a spark of adoration him. And she, naive little thing that she is, is missing all the tiny hints that might be there, because the daft man is stoically hiding his love, since there is no chance of it ever becoming something honourable and “real”, so it is easy for her to read it as “oh, he knows I’m a woman, so he is just reacting with appropriate emotion to this situation because of course it makes sense that this might be conceived of as vaguely inappropriate since we are not related or married” instead of “oh, woman I love, whom I can never have and yet I must endure her touch as she heals me and this is the closest I will ever have to intimacy with my beloved.” So, of course I’m going to keep putting them in situations like this, because it is fucking hilarious. The Kuni who is being forced to witness all this, who is a grumpy fatalistic hedonist of the “eat and drink and love, for tomorrow we might die” school, is rolling his eyes, and playing deeply irritated match-maker by facilitating every vaguely inappropriate situation he can manage, all the while thinking “look, as long as it isn’t found out about, no one cares... look at the epic affair between the governor and her probably-lover! Just... would you just unbend enough to realize you might be able to get that for yourself, you giant, honour-bound idiot?” Kagami, however, may have just begun to feel the slightest stirrings of desire. Of course, she has no context. No idea what it is. And it is all tied up in a mess of other emotions. So yeah. It took us 450′000K words to get to this far. Calling it slow-burn would be greatly understating the case. <<Then she reached the point where the six of them had arrived before the gates of the prison. Her mind flashed vividly to being held aloft by Tetsunotaka and heat flooded her cheeks. She bit her lip as she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, feeling again the pressure of his hands wrapped around her thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut against the surge of emotion. It had been excruciatingly embarrassing, but his touch hadn’t been unpleasant. His grip had been firm, but it had been /gentle/ and he had picked her up and had afterwards lifted her down without any hint of difficulty, his strength, as always, completely under his control. She groaned, dropping the brush and covering her face with her hands until the intense sense-memory faded. Eventually she sat back up, still feeling breathless and a little over-warm, and picked up the brush again, thanking all the Fortunes that she did not need to include /that/ in her report.>>

[asteroiideae]

Hi Saphir anon again, loved your well-thought answer but speaking of the dynamic between him and Demande how do you feel about them as a “ship” perse? I know you said in your response that you always wanted Saphir and Petz to have their happy ending but I always got the vibe that Demande/Saphir were meant to be shipped, and various supplemental Japan only materials well as certain choice DIC edits leads me to believe more and more that this is the case.

I’m not sure where you stand on the whole problematic shipping discourse so I apologize if this offends if you happen to be an “anti,” but did you personally ever get that vibe? As far as I’m aware they’re considered the most popular shipping option for Demande back in the Eastern fandom, second only to Usagi.

Hey Nonny! Welcome back!

I see we've opened up The Discourse[tm] here lmao so I should probably start with talking about that. I don't discuss it much or often on my blog, because I think there's a significant lack of nuance and genuine conversation going on, and as one youtuber put it "I'm a tax-paying adult woman". I don't really have time or interest in the drama.

So what I will say is this: I think there are some valid points on both sides, and it's a worthwhile conversation to have with nuance and good-faith. I personally preferred the squick-and-trigger days of old, honestly. Fiction often covers ground that is fraught, complex, difficult, and upsetting; the most responsible thing to do is be upfront with potentially triggering or squicking content, and let readers make informed decisions.

(We're going to table the conversation about minors/underage internet users for the time being, because that's not what this ask is about. I'm just legally obligated to note here that I'm aware that's a hot talking point, before I get dog-piled over it.)

(Also Nonny I'm gonna drop my full answer under a read more, to protect people who might be triggered by this content. So, here's the official trigger warning for ships that involve themes of incest.)

All of that to say, I never perceived Saphir and Demande with any kind of shipping lens! I have very strongly delineated lines between people who perceive one another as siblings, and people who might eventually develop romance. In the 90s anime (which is my strongest Sailor Moon touchstone,) they are presented as brothers; and so to me they are. I think a lot of the kinds of indicators we look for in ships are things that often happen in other dynamics, and certainly if you started with the manga (which I don't remember clearly how this arc played out in it,) or if you had a translation that didn't present these characters strongly as brothers, there's probably content there that reads as a ship.

Personally, shipping characters who view each other as siblings (regardless of shared DNA,) is squick territory for me. I'm not triggered by people shipping fictional siblings, though I understand why many are; but I am not comfortable with it and don't really get the appeal myself.

Saphir's actions with regard to Demande do read as incredibly fraternal to me. I have a brother, whom I've begged to not make blatantly poor decisions. If the lives of my brother and I were fictionalized, and I could reasonably have pulled off some kind of grand and exaggerated means to save him from himself, I absolutely would have! He's my brother, and I love him. Similarly, particularly when we were kids, my little brother could get through to me when others could not.

Additionally, I've never felt a desire to ship Demande with anyone. I don't take issue with toxic relationships (I dislike the term "problematic" because it's entirely too vague,) but Demande is a character I am happy to see dead and off-screened frankly. As someone who grew up presenting and socialized as a woman, I've met too many men like Demande irl to want to assign any kind of romance to him.

So TL;DR is that I don't really have any meaningful thoughts on this as a ship? I'm not offended to be asked, and I can loosely and intellectually understand how that ship developed? But I'm incapable of personally understanding any readings of siblings as ships. (This includes step-siblings, adopted siblings, half-siblings, and people who choose to assign sibling relationships between themselves and other people.)

[doctorsiren]

JimmySolidarity and Mumbo Jumbo are fraternal twin brothers. How did we get here? Well…let me explain *swoops cape around to make a scene transition*

It all started with my dear friend Foop sending these tweet screenshots to the Hermitcraft discussion channel of my discord server (DM me for the invite link)

So then, naturally, I wanted to draw Jimmy, Scott, and Mumbo as best buddies! Forget the Architechs; Flower Husbands + Bestie was gonna be my new thing /hj

So I drew this:

This was a joke, of course. So then, I went to draw an actual thing. I started drawing Jimmy and realized that, hey, he kinda looks like Mumbo IRL.

And so the story goes like this:

Since Jimmy is 6 months younger than Mumbo, we (mostly meaning Foop, Pho, and I) decided that Jimmy’s IRL actual bday was NOT his bday in this AU, but a fake date he believed to be his birthday. His real bday would be Dec 1, 1995. He and Mumbo were like separated at birth or something idk haha we haven’t figured that out yet

But Foop and Pho headcanon Jimmy to be 6’4 (he’s 6’0 irl I think) and so Mumbo is taller than him by an inch and it gives off Mabel and Dipper vibes haha

Since they’re fraternal twins, it explains why Jimmy is blonde and also explains why he doesn’t have the same crooked teeth or eyes that Mumbo has when he has no mustache (Jimmy shaves, but if he didn’t, he would also have a mustache haha)

They have the same eye colour and facial features

So the first time they meet, they, of course, have NO idea that they’re twins, brothers, or even related AT ALL since if someone looked at them side-by-side, it would be hard to make a connection at first glance. If that person were to look more closely at their features, however, they would be able to to tell that “hey, these two dudes have basically the same face!”

I have so many twins in my arsenal. Don’t know why, but I love making AUs or headcanons with them

The name of this AU? at the moment: Jumbros

Created by me, Foop, and Pho (those two are my server’s resident Flower Husband Experts TM)

We take no criticism; it’s just for fun

And yes, I do plan to do more doodles for this, for it is bringing me such joy

[itzztay]

SEASON I // EPISODE: PILOT

With one last look at your room, you silently closed the door and carried the last bit of your luggage downstairs. Today was move-in day at InterHigh University- you’d be leaving behind your childhood home that held all your deepest and darkest memories behind. You passed your dad in the kitchen as he silently prepared breakfast as usual without even sparing a glance at you. Sighing, you continued on taking your luggage outside, but not before you passes the slightly crooked framed family photo of you, your mom, and your dad’s smiling faces. You didn’t say anything, or rather had nothing to say, just silently recognizing that you were also going to finally leave them behind with this house.

Your childhood best friend Momoi stood outside the door with a warm and empathetic smile. “Hey Y/N, are you excited for today~” she questioned as she helped roll your luggage into her parents’ car.

Almost as if your mood did a full 180, you smiled brightly as you hugged your best friend “Ready as I’ll ever be! I can’t wait to see everyone again”.

Momoi huffed as she attempted to lift your extremely heavy luggage into the trunk, “Me too! It’s nice that we got put into the same dorm and I heard the fraternity Kuroko’s in is just down the road” she beamed as she finished closing the trunk.

Kuroko… you hadn’t seen or talked to him, let alone the rest of the Generation of Miracles, since that incident. Admitedly, when you heard that they would all be attending IHU you were extremely nervous to meet each other again. Your just glad that at least Momoi still kept in contact with some of them so it would be a little less awkward.

A moment of silence passed again until Momoi softly spoke, “Are you going to say goodbye to your dad before you leave…”? An undetectable flash of anger quickly wiped across your face but soon was replaced with a somber look, “No, I think it’ll just be best if I go. He doesn’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to him. It’s time for me to start my own life… away from here”.

Momoi comfortingly placed her hand on your shoulder  “Well okay,” Momoi and you smiled softly to each other. “I guess it’s time to start the first part of a long 4 years” she took your hand and opened the door to the car. As you sat at the back row of seats and the car began to move, you plugged in your headphones and looked out the window.

You were determined to make the most out of college experience and finally find happiness. You were ready for change, to meet new people, and do your best to forget your past.

But never could you have predicted what would’ve happened… that one day you’d be standing in the cold rain in your blood soaked clothes and a knife in your hand.

_____________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading the first part of “All Stars”~! I don’t usually write more angsty darker things but I decided to push myself a bit to do so. Nothing in this story is going to be extremely graphic (the smut is detailed but not graphic yk), it’s really supposed to emulate what the “college experience” can be like irl or how it is in some movies/shows like Euphoria or Heathers but like... in college lmao. Anywayyy, I'll see you all next chapter :D.

[tokillamockingbird427]

I ship Logan and Keegan a lot, but IRL they would get in a lot of trouble. 

There’s a thing called “Fraternization” where you’re not allowed to have relation ships deemed “Unprofessional” with people of different rank or positions because it undermines the chain of command. (“Unprofessional” just means a close personal relations ship. Romance, Sex, Friendship, etc.) 

This has only given me more ammunition though. 

Now I have a silly little thing where Keegan tries to tell Elias (Because he trusts him and goes to him for advice a lot.) “Hey, I have a thing for him, and IDK what the hell to do. Please help.” Hoping for Elias to tell him to fuck off so the logical side of his brain can finally scrub the lovey-dovey stuff away. 

And Elias could not give less of a shit. 

Ghost is very A-Typical as a unit, because Elias is the Captain, and has his sons join the force. He definitely has what qualifies as an “Unprofessional” relationship with them, because they are his sons. (Them also being siblings in the same unit before violates the rule.) 

Keegan was definitely in a “Close personal” relationship with Ajax, whether that be friends or more. And obviously inside the team the rest of them are close friends. 

So Elias would probably just brush it off. He likes Keegan, he knows he’s nice and wouldn't ever hurt Logan, so he’s not too worried about them being involved. As long as Logan’s reciprocating he’s fine with it. 

And they’re in the middle of a war, on the loosing side. “Professional” and “Unprofessional” kinda dove out the window when the ODIN strikes happened. 

(When Keegan tells Elias, he gives it a second of thought before saying “I think you’d make a good son-in-law.” and Keegan blue-screens.) 

[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.