#emily dickinson x female reader

[livingdreams97]

Emily Dickinson- "The past comes back" (part 1)

Emily Dickinson x fem! reader/oc

Summary: An old friend of Lavinia's returns to Amherst after years out of town and not seeing each other. But what happens when Lavinia's friend turns out to be not only her friend, but two more girls and one of them turns out not to remember her.

Words: 3.366

Masterlist

NOTE: If you see any spelling mistake im sorry, english is not my first lenguage and i try to do it the best possible.

Emily's POV

Today was another day, another day less in this cruel and superficial world. Life is something monotonous, without changes, without news and without any inspiration.

I let out a sigh looking out the window of my room, sitting in the chair in front of my desk and with a blank sheet of paper for hours. Although in reality it could have been only a few minutes and that the overwhelming silence of my mind makes me believe that more time has passed than it actually has.

Lavinia: You're not going to believe who's back.- she says completely excited almost knocking down the door of my room to enter.

Emily: Who's back?- i ask setting the paper aside and giving her my full attention.

Lavinia: My best friend is back.- she shouts jumping excitedly in her place.

Emily: Since when do you have more friends than Jane, Abby, Abiah and Toshiaki.- I say laughing at her attitude.

Lavinia: First of all, that has offended me. - she claims me crossing her arms over her chest. -Second, I have more friends apart from those weirdos and third; you are the one who only has one friend: Sue.- She lists looking at me with narrowed eyes.

Emily: Okay now i'm the one that is ofended.- i say loking at her with narrowed eyes.

Lavinia: Whatever, you're not going to spil the emotion of my moment.- she assures me pointing to me.

Emily: Okey. - i say raising my hands in the air with innocence. -Can you tell me who's back already?- i asked, slightly interested.

Lavinia: Y/n Harvard is back.- she shouts full of emotion.

Emily: Harvard like the university of Massachusetts?- i ask slightly confused.

Lavinia: Yes, her great- greatgranfather was the main founder of the university and thats why she moved to Cambridge back 13 years ago.- she answers me and I open my eyes in surprise.

Emily: Wow that's impresive.- i say and she nods her head. –But why they had to move there?- i ask confuse, since I don't see a clear reason to move there and now return to Amherts after thirteen years.

Lavinia: They moved because her grandfather died and her father had to occupy the position of director at the university.- she answers me and I nod without being entirely sure.

Emily: And why she is back now?- i ask still unsure.

Lavinia: From what Maggie has told me, her maid has told her that they have come to fix some things in the house and the family land.- she answers me and I nod in understanding.

Emily: And why aren't you with her now? - Confused question. -If they've come back for things around the house, it means they won't stay long and you should take advantage of it.- I explain and she smiles full of emotion.

Lavinia: That's because mom has talked to Y/n's mother and has invited them to have dinner with us.- She replies, jumping back on the spot. -So I need you to behave, don't do anything strange and don't say any of your poetic reflections.- she orders me pointing her finger at me.

Emily: And what if I just don't go down to dinner? - I ask hopefully.

I'm hoping she'll let me stay in my room, writing and waiting for the dead to show up so I can have an intellectual conversation with him. Because I don't like it very much when there are people at home and less when I don't know those people. Y/n may have been Lavinia's best friend, but I don't remember her and we may not have even exchanged words in the past.

So I hope that for fear of me making a scene or saying something I shouldn't, Lavinia will let me stay in my room in my inspiring solitude so that I can enjoy the tranquility of my loneliness by myself.

Lavinia: Nope, that's not going to happend.- she shake your head. -Sue and Austin will also come to dinner, so you have to go down to the dining room and socialize with our guests.- she tells me seriously.

Emily: But why? - I ask in the form of an exaggerated false cry. -I don't even know who Y/n is or I'm sure we didn't even talk when she lived here.- I complain seeing how she opens her eyes in surprise.

Lavinia: Emily Elizabeth Dickinson have you forgotten about Y/n? - she asks me completely surprised.

Emily: Okey there's no need to use my full name.- i say impressed by her tone of voice and the use of my middle name.

Lavinia: Yes, it is necessary, how could you forget about Y/n? - Question completely surprised. -Sue, Y/n, you and I were like the town quartet, they never saw one of us without the others.- she tells me and I open my eyes surprised by the new information.

Emily: Wait what?- i ask completly taken away.

Lavinia: You really don't remember her?- she asks me between impressed, sad and surprised.

Emily: No i don't.- i respond by shaking my head uncertainly.

Lavinia: Could you at least pretend that you remember her when she comes to dinner, please.- I laugh and I nod confused.

Emily: Why do you want me to pretend that I remember her? - I ask interested and confused.

Lavinia: Because she has always held you in esteem, she always said that your mind was incredible and she always asked about you when we wrote to each other.- she explains to me and I open my eyes in surprise.

Emily: Now I feel bad for not remembering her.- I tell her feeling some guilt in my stomach.

Lavinia: You're right to feel bad, you were just as obsessed with her as she was with you.- she tells me and I frown trying to remember her. -You were actually closer to Y/n at that time than you were to Sue.- she explains and I look at her completely impressed.

Emily: Is that serious? - I ask with my mouth slightly open.

Lavinia: Why would i lie?- she asks me confused - Anyway, when you go down to dinner, clean the remains of ink from your hands and make sure that she doesn't realize that you don't remember her, please.- she asks me and I nod with a sigh.

Emily: I'll try not to let her know.- I nod.

Lavinia: Okay, thank you very much.- She thanks me and walks towards the door of my room. -They'll come around five o'clock, so be ready and try to be as normal as possible,- she begs me and walks out the door, closing it behind her.

Once alone again in my room, I try to think and look through my memories in search of Y/n. If what Lavinia has told me is true, I don't understand why I don't remember her and the friendship we had.

I try as hard as I can to remember her, but I only see Sue and my sister, along with Jane, Abby, Abiah, and Toshiaki. Suddenly inspiration strikes me, so I turn back in my chair to the table and start writing on the blank paper from a while ago.

Watching the clouds go by, life went by and you, like a cloud, passed through my boredom. And then your heart and mine were united, as the edges of a wound come together.

The last dreams and the first gray hair all beautiful things sadden with shadow; and today your life and my life are like stars, because they can be seen together, being so far away...

I well know that oblivion, like cursed water, it gives us a thirst deeper than the thirst it takes away, But I'm so sure I can forget...

And I will look at the clouds without thinking that I love you in the deaf habit of an old sailor that he still feels, on solid ground, the undulation of the sea.

(Jose Angel Buesa, it's not Emily's but imagine it is)

Y/n's POV

I'm excited, ecstatic even. Today I had returned to the place where I was born and where I lived my first 10 years of life. The last time I set foot in the house where I was born was 13 years ago and time has had its effect even on it.

Everything was the same, but there was something in the environment that made it strange and gave a feeling of ignorance. I don't know if it's because of the dust, the white sheets covering every piece of furniture in the house or the perspective of where I'm seeing the house now.

When I was ten years old, barely one meter thirty, my vision was different and the things within reach of my hands were reduced. But now that I am 23 years old, I am 1.73 meters tall and I see things from a different angle. The things or places that I could not access before are at the height of my hands.

I go up the stairs caressing the railing of my childhood home, remembering how it felt to slide down it and the good times I spent on these stairs. I remember the times Lavinia, Emily, Sue and I would race up the stairs. Like the time I fell from them with Lavinia, because Emily pushed me laughing and I clung to my best friend ending with a small scar on my eyebrow thanks to the fall.

I stop looking at the corridor on the second floor, where the rooms are and I walk towards the back where mine is. As I walk down the hall in a relaxed manner, I look at the photos hanging on it and stop when I see a family photo.

In the photo you can see my father sitting on a sofa, with my mother sitting to his right and my older sister to his left. Then my brother is on my mother's lap and I am sitting on my father's lap.

I am the youngest of three children, my older sister Amber got married seven years ago and already has two children Adam and Alana. Adam is already five years old and Alana just turned 3 just two weeks ago. And she is four months pregnant with her third child.

Amber is the oldest of the three, then there is Brandon and then there is me. Amber is 6 years older than me, Brandon is two years younger than her and four years older than me. So right now my sister is 29 years old and Brandon is 27 years old.

My brother was harder to settle down, or at least that's what my parents tell everyone. He got married just two years ago and his wife is also pregnant with his first child. The truth is that I don't have a very good relationship with her, because there is something that doesn't convince me about her attitude and I'm not sure that she deserves my brother.

But they're already married and my brother loves her, so there's nothing I can do about it.

And then there's me, the youngest and only single of the three Harvard Anderson children. The truth is that I have never been interested in meeting a man and starting a family. To be honest, I don't think I'm ever will be a good mother and I don't even know how to dedicate myself to serving a man other than my father. And it's not that I like too much to serve my father or do any domestic choir.

I am more interested in studies, training as a person and knowing something more than cooking or housework. Thank God, my parents have never pressured me to get married, since I am my father's right eye and he has always pampered me in everything.

In addition to my father being the director of Harvard, he has given me the opportunity to attend some classes on what interested me and has also taught me everything I wanted to know.

I stop dead in front of the door of my childhood room, take a deep breath and open the door taking a step inside it. I see the walls painted a pale pink slightly faded by time, the relief of the furniture under the sheets and I smile longingly.

In quick movements I begin to remove each of the sheets, revealing my single bed with the ballerina quilt, the nightstands, the dark brown closet in which I used to hide when I played hide-and-seek, the chair where my mother put my clothes for the day after and finally the desk in front of one of my windows.

Delicately move my fingers over the surface of the table, feeling the relief of the names carved on it. I smile sadly, remembering my last day in this house and the promise that was made in this very room.

Flashback

Lavinia: Why do you have to go?- she asks with teary eyes and a pout.

Y/n: Because I have to go with my family.- i answer with teary eyes just like her.

Emily: And if you stay with us?-She asks hopefully and pointing to herself and her little sister.

Y/n: I don't think they'll let me.- I answer with a pout, trying with all my strength to avoid crying.

Emily: But they have to leave you, you can't go and leave us here.- she whimpers letting the first tear fall from her eyes.

Sue : You can do that.- supports her best friend. -I don't want to lose you either.- she sighs with sadness and resisting the desire to cry just like me.

Y/n: I can't do anything.- I whisper and feel how the tears begin to fall from my eyes again.

Lavinia: But you can't go, if you go you'll forget us and I don't want you to forget me.- She starts to cry and throws herself into my arms.

Y/n: I don't want to leave my best friends either.- I whisper, hugging the youngest tightly.

Emily: Don't go.- she begs me starting to cry and joining the hug.

Sue: Please?- She asks with a somewhat broken voice, approaching more calmly and joining the group hug.

Y/n: If it were up to me I would stay here with you forever.- I assure her, crying with them. -But I can't choose.- I whisper very sad to leave my friends behind.

Sue: You have to promise us that you'll come back.- she asks me separating from the hug and with a tear sliding down her cheek.

Lavinia: Yes, you have to promise.- support her sister's best friend.

Emily: And if we make a promise.- she offers and all the same attentive ones. -I took this from father, but I don't really know what he does or what it is used for.- she comments taking a screwdriver from the pocket of her dress.

Sue We could write our names on something with that.- She points to the sharp object in our friend's hand.

Lavinia: Let's write our names on Y/n's desk and promise to be friends forever.- She jumps up from the floor and grabs the pointed object from her sister.

Sue: I think it's a good idea. - she supports her, also getting up from the ground. -But you and Y/n will not write, because you are very small and it can be dangerous.- she says and I pout crossing my arms.

Y/n: You say it as if you were much older than the two of us.- I deny getting up from the ground and helping Emily to do it too.

Sue: I'm older than you by two years and older than Vini by three.- she points at us and we both stick out our tongues at her.

Sue starts carving the names of the four of us into the bottom left corner of my desk, being careful not to hurt herself, and ends up making an infinity over the names.

Lavinia: Now we will be friends forever.- she says excitedly hugging me around my waist and I do the same with her.

Emily: Promise us that you won't forget us.- She asks me looking straight into my eyes and there is something in them that creates curiosity in me.

Y/n: I promise.- i assure with a nod full of strength. -I promise to write every week.- I assure them and the three of them smile at me a little happier.

Emily: And we promise to answer each letter.- she promises me and she throws herself on me to hug me tightly by the neck.

Sue: Friends forever.- she says joining the hug from behind.

Lavinia: Friends forever.- she repeats against my shoulder.

Emily: Friends forever.- She secures against my neck, tickling me and making my heart race unexpectedly.

Y/n: Friends forever.- I say and close my eyes to enjoy my last moments for a while with my friends.

A couple of minutes later my maid, Clement, arrives to let us know that we have to go and that my family is waiting for me by the family carriage. We parted from the embrace and they escorted me to the carriage. Emily was holding one of my hands tightly and Vini was holding my other hand in the same way.

As soon as the carriage moved on and left Amherts farther and farther behind, a bigger and bigger hole opened up in my heart.

End of Flashback

That was the last time I saw my best friends, I haven't seen them again in 13 years and thanks to my return that will change today. Though I'm not so sure Sue and Emily share my excitement about the reunion.

I kept my part of the promise and wrote to them every week. It didn't matter if I didn't have anything interesting to tell, I just wrote and told them how much I missed them. I remember that I wrote three letters, one for each one and to prevent one from feeling less than the others.

For the first five months the three of them answered my letters, telling me what they did in their day to day and the adventures they had.

But one day Emily stopped responding to my letters, I never understood if I had written something that had offended or annoyed her and that's why she stopped writing to me. But Vini assured me that that was impossible and that Emily was just in a rebellious phase too busy to anything else.

Then Sue stopped writing to me three months after Emily did. This time Vini explained Sue's family situation to me and I understood her reasons for her to stop writing to me. After all, death at an early age is hard, especially when she is someone close and part of the family.

The only person with whom I have continued to correspond my letters during these thirteen years has been Lavinia. The only change was that instead of weekly, we wrote to each other every month and recounted everything that had happened to us.

Thanks to those letters, i received information about how both Sue and Emily were. It was the only source of information I had about them and to this day I thank Vini for continuing to keep in touch with me.

Thanks to her I knew that Emily had begun to be interested in poetry, that Sue and Austin; her older brother, they had started a relationship and had been married not long ago.

But I don't hold a grudge against either of them. Each one has a life of her own and a promise from when we were children is not something that you have to take into account when you get older.

You have to mature, grow as a individual and look forward without letting negative memories and feelings decide what you will do. That is why, as much pain and sadness that the lack of response caused me by my friends, I do not hold a grudge against them and I am excited to be able to see them again and speak personally to catch up.

Do you guys think that the parts are too long? Or they have a good lenght?

NEXT

#emily dickinson x reader #emily dickinson #emily dickinson x female reader #emily dickinson x fem reader #hailee steinfeld #hailee x reader #hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfield x fem reader #emily dickinson x fem oc #dickinson series #love #lgbtq #dickinson #drama #reader #female oc #female reader #oc character

[samhenderson1986]

Emily Dickinson's lifting all her dress layers checking her pants the crumbles to the ground with cry "No!" Then crawl to the bed side dramatically cause she had her period is one of the most things I relate to personally

#emily dickinson imagine #emily dickinson quotes #emily dickinson x female reader #emily dickinson poems #emily dickinson icons #emisue #Emily Dickinson is A MOOD

[inlovewithgaycouples]

(edited by me.)

❤️❤️

#hailee steinfeld #dickinson #hawkeye #marvel #kate bishop #kate x yelena #kate x reader #emily dickinson #she is the loml #i love her #haiz #kate bishop x female reader #hailee steinfeld x reader #florence pugh #coast

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Jealousy

Emily Dickinson X f!Reader

a/n: Hey Everyone! This is a one-shot written for the character Emily Dickinson as per a request I received. If you would like to be added to the Emily Dickinson Taglist please do not hesitate to comment!

Warnings: Smut!, 18+, light mention of homophobia, light dom stuff, not proof-read

Word Count: 2055

Concept: Your best friend Emily gets jealous when she sees you talking to another girl.

Taglist: @caspiansalvatore @imapotatao @kassies-take @simp4haiz @thorya22 @laaurrel @just-your-local-history-nerd

You and Emily have always been best of friends. You’ve known each other for almost 5 years as of this year. The two of you have been inseparable ever since you met, you share everything with her. You are extremely close…some would say too close. Emily had a passion and love for poetry and she often tells you that you’re her muse. You receive countless poems every week about your beauty, your relationship and the love that she holds for you. There is this unspoken love between the two of you. Neither of you have ever admitted your undying feelings for one another but you both know that they’re there. You have talked to “suitors” that your mother has set up for you and none of them compare to the way Emily makes you feel but every now and again there is one that comes along who piques your interest. He always ends up leaving or it doesn’t work out. Emily has let jealousy shine through every now and then when you and a man get along well. You can’t show your parents the truth about who you actually are in love with, they would disown you for that, even worse, they’d tell Emily’s family too. So, you have to play along and put on a charade for these boys who come through and although she knows you’re not into them, she still can’t help but be a little jealous.

One day, there was a family who came to visit your neighbours, they were distant cousins. In this family, there were two parents, a son and a daughter, who were your age. They were here to stay in Amherst for at least a month and your mother had asked you to show their daughter around town, her name was Sue. She was gorgeous, had a smile that could light up the whole town but did not compare in one bit to your Emily.

“Hi! My name is y/n, my mother had sent me over to show you around the town.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Sue and that would be lovely, thank you.”

The two of you walk around town, telling each other stories from your lives, laughing and just having a wonderful time. You had to admit that it was quite nice talking to someone new, you don’t get too many visitors so new people were always exciting. You told Sue all about your family and your friends, especially Emily.

“Wow, this Emily, she sounds like she is quite special to you.” She says.

“She is. She has been there for me through everything. She is the one person that can always put a smile on my face even if I have had the most horrid of days.”

“Well, I would love to meet her.”

“I’m sure we will see her at some point…unless she is cooped up in her bedroom writing poetry!” As you were saying this Emily was in her room writing poetry. She looked out her bedroom window from where her desk sat and saw you walking around with Sue. The two of you together, laughing, light touching and lots of smiles. She didn’t even notice Sue at first. She was so in love with you, watching you smile brought her warmth and happiness. After she realized why you were smiling so much…her mood changed quite quickly. Not knowing what to do she decided to storm outside and intervene in your affairs.

“You might actually get to meet her sooner than you had thought…” You say as you see Emily walking towards the two of you at quite a rapid pace.

“Hey! Emily, this is Sue, she is visiting from Boston.”

“Hi.” She says with her lips pursed together and eyes squinted.

You widened your eyes at her to try to inform her to not be rude.

“Emily, it is lovely to meet you! Y/n has told me so much about you.”

“Oh really? And what exactly is she saying?” She says in a tone with slight curiosity.

“Just that you are an excellent poet and that you mean the world to her.”

Emily quickly looks at you as you raise your eyebrows in an ‘I told you so’ fashion.

“Well, that is in fact true.” She says in response to Sue.

“Okay…anyways…I should probably get back to my family now, thank you y/n for the tour and it was nice meeting you both.”

“Do you need me to show you the way back to your home Sue?”

“Oh, no, I should be good. Thank you though. I hope to see you two around!” Sue says as she is walking away.

“Do you need me to show you the way back to your home Sue?” Emily says in a tone mocking you.

You give her a little slap on the arm. “Stop it! What is wrong with you? You’re acting so weird!”

“I just didn’t like seeing how you were with her. You were smiling and laughing so much together.”

“Were you spying on me?”

“I just looked out of the window and saw you y/n…”

“Uh-huh, sure. Emily, love, the only reason I was smiling and laughing with her is that I was trying to be polite. My mom wanted me to show her around, that’s all.”

“Hmmm…fine. If you say so. But now that the tour is done, does that mean you won’t be hanging out with her again?”

“Yes, Emily.”

“Good, because you know what’ll happen if you do.” She says as she takes a step closer towards you.

“Oh love, you’re adorable. C’mon, let’s go have some tea.” You say as you grab her arm and walk back towards the house together.

– 1 week later –

Your family was hosting a soiree tonight and the Dickinson family along with your neighbours and their family were invited. There were many others there, in and out throughout the night. Emily had yet to show up, most likely staying home so she could write but Sue showed up. You showed her around your house and caught up with her as she told you how her week had been. You just handed her a drink when you glance over at your front door and see Emily standing there in the most beautiful blue dress. She was practically starring holes into you with her eyes after watching you interact with Sue again. Sue’s family walks over asking to borrow her so that she can meet some friends so you told her that you’d catch up with her later. As soon as she left you, Emily headed straight for you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the main room. She brought you upstairs to your bedroom where the two of you had had countless sleepovers before. As soon as she gently shuts the door she snaps back around and pushes you against the wall causing your shelf to move.

“What did I say would happen if you hung out with her again?” She said under her breath.

You couldn’t help but feel extremely turned on by this because Emily very rarely reveals herself as a dominant individual. It does however happen every now and then, usually when she is being protective over you. You thought it might be fun to poke the bear a little tonight.

“What? Jealous love?” You say with a smirk on your face.

“You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Oh, will I?” You say as she picks you up and throws you onto your bed.

Emily starts kissing down your neck causing you to let out little moans. To quiet you a little she puts her hand over your mouth not allowing any sounds to escape.

“Don’t make a sound.” She whispers in your ear.

She continues to kiss down your neck making her way to your chest as her one hand grips your waist with strength. She pulls away and gets off you, “Get up.”

“What?”

“Get up. Now.”

You immediately stand up.

“Undress.”

“Emily we are in the middle of a party I can’t just–”

“Now!” She says raising her voice.

You immediately start to untie your dress and once everything is undone you slowly slip out of it just to reveal your white lacey bra and underwear underneath. As you took your clothes off, it made you incredibly horny at the thought of Emily watching you.

“Get on the bed.” She instructed.

As you crawled onto the bed and laid on your back she immediately started kissing you on the inside of your thighs. Leaving little marks that nobody would ever see, Emily was teasing you which was the best and worst feeling in the world. While you craved her touch, she would definitely not give it to you where you wanted it. She continued to leave tiny kisses and bites on the inside of your thighs until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck– Emily, please, I just want to feel you inside me.”

“Do better.” “Please baby, I need you.” You groaned.

You could hear a scoff with a smile come across her face as she slowly started pulling down your underwear, making sure to take her sweet time with it. She left kisses on your wet folds that had you squirming for more. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and slowly started parting your lips. As soon as you felt her touch your clit your back arched up from the touch you were deprived of. You let out a loud moan, thank god there was music playing downstairs.

She immediately comes up to eye level with you, “I’ll continue but you need to keep quiet. Do you think you can be a good girl for me and do that?” She says as she slips one finger into your mouth.

You nod yes, keeping your eyes locked on hers as she goes back down.

She spreads your legs and starts licking your clit in small, slow circles. She felt amazing but fuck did you want her to go faster. You were soaking wet and growing impatient, her speed was only making things worse.

“Emilyyyy, please! I want to feel you all. Please go faster.” You whine.

“Uh uh uhhh.” She says. “No whining or I will stop.”

You bite your lip trying to not say anything else that will get you in trouble.

She starts to pick up the pace, her tongue drawing faster circles as you feel her one hand come up and tease your entrance. Fuck did that feel good. She would look up at you every now and again and watching her eat you out was incredibly sexy. She starts pumping one finger into you, in and out, in and out as her tongue continued to dance on your clit. You knew right then and there that you were not going to last long from this.

“Shit– Emily, I think I’m going to cum soon.”

“Not yet princess.” She mumbled to you.

Holding back your orgasm was proving to be incredibly difficult. To make it even harder she started creating long slow strokes with her tongue, right up your clit and added another finger as she continued to pump in and out of you. You were about to tear a hole through your lip trying not to moan. This, accompanied by the orgasm that wanted, no, needed so desperately to be released, had you in hell but in the best way possible.

Emily looked up at you and could tell you were on the verge, “cum for me princess” she says.

With one last pump, your head falls back as your jaw drops open and you felt your orgasm through your entire body as you cum all over her hand and face. She continues to lick your pussy, slowing down her strokes in order to let you ride out your high.

Your body readjusts to the bed and you lay there, almost naked, just having had the best orgasm of your life.

Emily comes up to you and lays down in the spot next to you with a big smile on her face.

“Shit–” You say. “Maybe I should make you jealous more often.”

You both chuckle as she looks at you with the most gorgeous eyes.

“I love you y/n.”

“I love you too Emily.”

– The End –

#emily dickinson fanfic #emily dickinson x reader #emily dickinson #emily dickinson wlw #emily dickinson x female reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #hawkeye fanfic #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye show #hawkeye series #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld smut #hailee steinfield x reader #wlwsmut #wlw

[i-do-it-for-the-gays]

Not to be that gay but… Hailee Steinfeld’s hands 🥵

#these are my thoughts #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel characters #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye disney+ #kate x yelena #kate bishop #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop marvel #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x y/n #emily junk #emily dickinson #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #apple tv

[meimei-a]

Y/n: I'm not gay

Yelena: are you sure about tha-

Y/n: ISAIDIMNOTGAY

-Five minutes later-

*Kate walks in with a suit on*: hey have you guys seen lucky anywhere?

Y/n: *instant gay panic*

#kate bishop x reader #yelena belova x reader #hailee steinfeld #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4 #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop #yelena belova #yelena x reader #kate bishop x oc #hailee steinfield icons #hailee steinfield x reader #emily dickinson

[writing-in-lesbian]

Y/N waking up in the Med Bay after a missions gone wrong. Your girlfriend and BFF were waiting on you.

Wanda: Babe! You’re awake, how you’re feeling?

Y/N: I had the craziest dream! You guys were all there but…

Kate: but what?

Y/N: Bucky was the Mad Hatter, Peter was a ballet dancer, Carol was a vegan singer, Yelena was involved in a weird cult and had a flower crown…

Kate: who was I?

Y/N: Emily Dickinson.

Wanda: *laughing* that’s really specific detka. And may I ask, who I was?

Y/N: an Instagram influencer, who loved to photograph our perfect life.

Wanda:……… maybe Dr. Cho exaggerated with the pain killer medicine.

Bonus:

Kate: hey dude, did my life was good at least?

Y/N: yeah it was, what wasn’t good was when you tried to seduce me…

Wanda from the other room: SHE TRIED WHAT?!

#wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect marvel #Kate bishop #incorrect ouat quotes #incorrect Scott pilgrim #emily dickinson

[yehet-me-up]

Reboot

Pairing: Jongdae/Chen x reader (female)

Word Count: 26,971 😬 read it in a mobile web browser if it crashes! 

Rating: (PG13) for swearing + sexy vibes (nothing more explicit than a kiss on the page though)

Summary: Chen’s Electronics is a mystery, both how the store came to be and the man running it. When you start working as a receptionist for the enigma that is Kim Jongdae, you’re determined to be the one who unravels the mystery. You’re prepared for anything, except for falling in love with Jongdae himself. 

Part eight of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

A/N: I’m SO delighted that Jongdae is getting his IRL happily ever after and I’m so excited to wrap up his fictional counterpart’s story today, so he can have his ending as well 💕

March 15th, 1997

Capitol Hill is in full swing, the promise of spring drawing the sleeping city from its winter hibernation. The silver dress you wear is far shorter than you're used to, but the denim jacket is big enough to properly cover your ass, which is something at least. In your platform boots, borrowed from your roommate Liz, you're almost tall enough to see over the busy street to Cal Anderson Park up ahead.

'Come on,' Liz says with an excited glint in her eye. 'The club's just on the far side of Boylston.'

You nod distantly, eyes wide as you try to take in all the people around you. After spending the last two years buried in a book in the UW library or at internships or in class it feels startling to realize how much youthful, passionate energy beats at the heart of the city so close to where you've been existing. Not that you never go out, but now that you’re approaching the end of your master’s degree you feel like a diver finally reaching the surface to draw breath. You’re ready to celebrate.

A door opens to your right and music surrounds you. An impassioned man sings about an even flow, accompanied by an aggressive drummer and what you can tell is skilled guitar playing. The people on the sidewalk beside you press in, screaming and cheering and trying to shove their way into a club. A faded sign above announces it as Moe's Bar.

Your roommate's hand finds yours and she pulls you out through an opening in the crowd.

Once you’re free again you laugh and brush your hair behind your ears. Dozens of other clubs and bars and late-night restaurants you pass are the same. Men with mohawks in every color of the rainbow. Women in combat boots with plaid jackets tied at their waists. A group of teenagers skateboard down Broadway, hollering into the night as they fly by, the clack of their wheels muffled by the lingering rain dampening the streets.

Everyone seems taken by the revelry. It would be so easy - to disappear into the thriving mass of people celebrating music and community and being alive. Now, with graduation so close you can finally taste it, you surrender to the sensation. Tilting your head back you look at the round full moon above, peeking out through the clouds, and give a joyful, if tentative, howl.

This makes your roommate turn and squeeze your hand. Liz smiles with pride. 'Now that's the spirit!' she says with a fist pump and howl of her own.

The nightclub is unassuming, especially amongst the neon and metal venues you passed to get here. Two simple brass lamps spotlight the enormous carved wooden doors. Bass thumps from within, the slight rattling of the doors is the only indication that life exists within. Shari’s reads the hanging sign.

Liz practically glows under the lights, a North star leading you into a whole new world.

After so many years of keeping your nose to the grindstone - success gained through effort rather than extraordinary intelligence; advanced classes, extra college courses during the summer, every extracurricular you could pack in before you cracked, a high school diploma by sixteen, bachelors by twenty and MBA by twenty two - you would follow her anywhere as long as it didn't involve studying or a business suit.

She guides you through the heavy wood door into a small entry room. A large man with so many piercings he'd have a terrible time at the security scanners at the airport checks your IDs. It's stayed in your wallet, practically untouched, since the official one came last year on your twenty-first birthday.

Finally inside the club you bite your lip to hide a wide, giddy smile of excitement. Bodies fill the dance floor, joyously swaying to the beat. A DJ booth rises from a far corner like Sauron’s tower in the Lord of the Rings. A man with dark hair that falls in his intense eyes runs the booth; a king commanding his loyal subjects.

Liz finds her group of friends from the mall she works at spread over two successive tables with circular cushioned benches behind them. Their names and faces blur together in the low lighting, but everyone is welcoming, offering you a smile or a shake of a hand. A cheerful blonde-haired man, who you swear says his name is Bacon, takes you and Liz’s coats and purses and adds them to an overflowing pile beside him.

Before you can even think of sitting down Liz guides you onto the dance floor. Normally you’re the one in control. The one with the plan. The group leader or the one who organized the debate team fundraiser/supply closet at work/networking mixer. But it’s… nice, not having to be the center of everything, keeping it together with your effort alone. 

She gives you a teasing smile as if she can read your thoughts and you roll your eyes with a laugh. ‘No overthinking this!’ she commands with a raised brow as you find a good spot.

As if I have any other way of thinking. ‘I promise nothing!’ you shrug and smile at her.

Your movements are slow at first, awkward, and you laugh to yourself with amusement. Self-deprecation has never been your poison. Along with an unshakeable drive to make something of yourself you've always had a healthy sense of self-esteem. Who cares if you aren't the best dancer?

You get into the swing after the second song and shake your ass with delight at the energy in the room and the incredible job the DJ is doing loosening you up. He’s remixing “Semi-Charmed Life” with an older techno hit you don’t recognize.

Before long Jongin, Liz’s crush and co-worker from the KOKO exercise studio, captures her attention and you end up dancing with Baekhyun (tragically not actually named Bacon) and a girl who calls herself Hitchcock. You recognize each other from a seminar last school year at UW and take a long break to catch each other up on your lives over shots at the table. 

She tells you about her dual jobs at Microsoft and the movie theater at the Exodus Mall. You fill her in on your thesis project and she offers to look over your resume as you plan to apply to a similar track at the tech giant after you graduate.

When Liz said she was forcing you from your obsessive, ahem dedicated, studying for your research paper you didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t all of this. Reconnecting with a friend. A potential foot in the door at your dream job. Dancing so much that your back gets slick with sweat. Laughing with Liz so hard your stomach aches as Baekhyun attempts to breakdance, nearly falling backwards into no less than four people.

As if the night couldn’t get any better, something else catches your eye. Someone else - the DJ steps down from the booth on a break.

His black pants, white shirt, and tie would be overly formal and out of place in the nightclub, but his pushed-up sleeves reveal muscled forearms. The neon yellow sunglasses and loose piano pattern of the tie he wears make him look sexy, in an off-duty retro businessman kind of way. His face reveals none of his emotions as he slips off his shades, tucking them in his jacket pocket. But the corners of his lips tilt up with amusement as he scans the room.

Clearly he’s impressed with the atmosphere he’s created here tonight. As he should be, you think. You imagine for a moment what it would be like if he noticed you. If this was a meet-cute or the start of something. But his focus is on the bar now, not lingering on you or anyone else in the club. Dating for you was a rocky road and absolutely nothing like the way it looked in the John Hughes movies that were your guilty pleasure growing up.

Between your parents' support and your own innate thirst for success, you always felt like an outsider in terms of relationships. Extroverted and empathetic enough to make and maintain friendships, but boys were tougher. You could never figure out dating to your satisfaction in high school and you left when most of your peers were just finishing up Sophomore year.

In college there was hope. Studious and hardworking men with glasses and a love of Emily Dickinson and black coffee. Law school-bound guys who rowed crew and whose confidence was just on the right side of attractive instead of insufferable. John Cusack types with easy smiles and crates of vinyl they carefully collected, who performed at the Comedy Underground in hopes of ‘being discovered.’

It was both thrilling and irritating. You went after dating with almost as much determination as you did your school and career, set on experiencing everything possible.

But the English major wanted someone in a pastel dress and tights, who volunteered at an animal shelter and didn’t eviscerate him at Scrabble. The future lawyer was looking for his future trophy wife, to stand beside him at fancy dinners and fraternity mixers. And the Lloyd Dobler wannabe needed a muse, a beautiful and ethereal woman to be his object of longing, to laugh at his jokes and pass through life without worry about the future.

Not that you were jealous, or even bitter. Just because you weren’t what they were looking for wasn’t anything personal and you never took it like it was. The women they wanted existed and were wonderful in all their own ways. But it grated at you, how you always felt like a square peg in a round hole. Never being the right fit.

All your life you’d gotten used to knowing, and getting, what you wanted. It was insanely frustrating to not have found anything that stuck. Failure in any form made you frown, but thankfully romantic mishaps always took a backseat to school, friends, and your future, so it was easy to ignore. Until now.

The DJ passes close enough to you and Liz that you can see the echoes of dark circles under his eyes and the rich brown of his hair in the passing neon lights. For some reason that same intuition, that same hunger and drive that had propelled you to awards and scholarships and countless other successes, tells you to follow him. Whatever it is about him, your body and your desire react before your mind and conscious rational thought.

'I'll be back,' you yell to your roommate over the music. She nods and gives you a thumbs up as she's drawn into Jongin’s embrace once more.

Like a missile you weave through the crowd, target in sight. You watch as the DJ leans against the end of the bar, carefully positioning himself so he's at the end with no one behind him. You wonder if it's out of a dislike of people sneaking up on him or if he's a predator, sizing up the crowd.

With a casual hand he orders a drink from the bartender and surveys the crowd coolly. Too high on life to care too much, you take the seat two over from him, carefully avoiding eye contact, feigning nonchalance. ‘Self-possessed,’ that’s how your fifth grade teacher described you. Independent and old beyond your years. It always thrilled you, the praise and respect of adults. You wanted to earn more of it, to be seen as capable and mature.

But something about the man beside you makes you feel younger. Raw and playful in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.

Admiring the cut of his jaw, you imagine kissing it. His hands on the bar are graceful, strong, befitting his profession. You want him and you want him to want you. The thought makes you inhale a deep breath, not even sure what that would mean. Adrenaline and delight fill your mind and you briefly fantasize about him holding you close on the dance floor like Jongin does to Liz. His hands on your hips and his mouth teasing your neck.

The bartender reappears on your side of the bar, his bald head gleaming in the lights of the club, and you snap back into reality. The flames tattooed across his knuckles shine as he slides a drink down the length of the bar, towards the DJ. An impulsive, reckless daring you've only ever felt before at debate tournaments makes you reach out and catch the glass of dark liquid before it can reach its desired recipient.

In one smooth motion you lift it to your lips and turn to meet the DJ's deep brown eyes. With a smirk you raise the glass. In two gulps you down the drink, the bourbon burning its way down your throat, reminding you how good it feels to be free, to be alive. 

To challenge someone who feels like a decent opponent.

He watches you, his eyes flaring with surprise before fading back to indifference. He looks like a tiger in a cage at the zoo, pacing in front of a glass divider. His fingers tap impatiently on the lacquered bartop and he tilts his head, watching as you lick the moisture from your lip, savoring the taste. You wonder if he'd be just as heady and strong on your tongue.

You have the feeling that with the slightest pressure in the right place and the glass would shatter, unleashing the beast within. The thought makes you clench your thighs together, a heat filling you that has nothing to do with the people pressing in on you trying to get the attention of the bartender.

The DJ seems just as self-contained as you are. A voice inside you whispers of unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects and you wonder which of you would cave first.

Before you can say anything, before you can even wipe the satisfied smile off your lips or ask his name or offer to pay for the drink, he drops a bill to the counter and slides off the stool. He pushes into the crowd, disappearing as if he'd never been there. As if he hardly noticed you.

But you didn't miss the interest, the arousal, the animal within him rising to your challenge. He slinks back up to the DJ booth and resumes his position of power, thirst unquenched.

You don't know his name, or anything about him. Aside from the fact that the way he looks at you feels so wrong it's right, and that his hands are the first ones you've ever wanted wrapped around your waist so badly you can feel it beating in your palms.

But you know one thing, as you rejoin your roommate on the dance floor, whatever has started between you and the enigmatic DJ isn't finished.

May 21st, 1997

You straighten your blazer, looking in the mirror to make sure your outfit is perfect. It’s not your first interview this week and it certainly won’t be the last, but it is the one you’re the most curious about.

The position as a receptionist and accountant for an electronics repair store isn’t exactly how you pictured your first job after getting your MBA, but the pay and the opportunity to work alongside the enigmatic tech genius Kim Jongdae is a chance you can’t pass up.

All that’s left is the graduation ceremony in June and then you’re free. Your final exams are done, your thesis is defended, and you’ve completed a thorough and perhaps slightly obsessive spreadsheet documenting all your connections who might have an in at your most desired companies. Now knee-deep in the process of interviewing for jobs it strikes you all of a sudden that this is what you’ve been working for… almost all your life.

The lighting in the bathroom of the mall is stark and a moment of uncertainty makes your knees weak.

Since your test results in elementary school came back top of the class it’s been the same refrain. Get good grades. Impress your teachers. Study and diversify your interests and push harder every year and eventually it will all pay off, right? You’re damn proud of what you’ve done, but now, here in the after, all you can think as you watch your own reflection is - now what?

Frowning, you wonder how many other applicants there are for this job. Anyone in the tech circle in Seattle knows about Jongdae. Rumors abound that he was set to be the next Bill Gates when an investment deal went south. Or that he was kicked out of Harvard for embarrassing his professors with his superior smarts. Someone in your Econ seminar once told you she’d heard that he was contracted by the NSA to spy on foreign hackers.

Whatever his history, he currently runs a computer and electronics repair store in a very unassuming mall in Capitol Hill. You want to stand out, and what better way to do so than the track down the mystery of Kim Jongdae, the prodigy turned hermit. You infuse your veins with confidence, knowing you can handle anything thrown at you. Or so you think.

The mall is quiet and peaceful in the mid-morning on a Wednesday. A couple of tables in the food court are filled with older men and women playing cards and board games. A group of moms walks past you talking about a storytime at the bookstore in the mall.

The slow and steady hum of activity in here is a far cry from where you thought you’d be working. Professors encouraged you to head to IBM or Oracle. With your skills, business sense, and intuitive ability to pick up each new trend in technology they told you that you would have your choice of opportunities.

But while you’re no stranger to hard work and a competitive work environment, the idea of clawing your way to the top of yet another group of high achievers just sounds… awful.

You long to travel, to finally see some of the exotic and culturally rich places you’ve stuck photos of to your fridge. You want to be able to actually go out on the weekends and see your friends. Whatever your future holds you want to finally enjoy your life outside of school and work, even if it’s only for a year.

You could always recognize the friends who were interning at Amazon because they looked like they’d come off a week of no sleep. Many of your fellow MBA graduates were flocking there, as the company finally went public earlier this month. But something just felt - off to you. Like a canary in a coal mine.

Purpose, fulfillment, financial security, and a challenging work environment? Yes.

Burnout, no free time, and living and breathing for ‘the company’? No, thank you.

At the salary Jongdae had advertised you could easily continue to afford the apartment you shared with your two roommates and work on paying off the remaining student loans your scholarships hadn’t covered. And you could hide away a small amount of your check every month for the trip to Amsterdam you’ve been planning for years.

The gentle music in the wide, bright lobby of the mall makes you sigh in relief. This job is a win-win and you’re more determined than ever to get it.

You finally see the shop. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d have missed it between the black and neon purple exterior of KMS Music and the narrow security office tucked behind the lively pizza restaurant. There’s a line winding its way in front of the music store and you assume it’s for an album release. Until you realize that the line is leading straight where you’re going and stop in your tracks.

Chen's Electronics. The mall is full of colors and bright shop fronts. But this is almost bleak in comparison, as though it's resisted the outright displays of joy and liveliness that seem to be at the heart of the mall. The sign is red neon against a black and steel facade. A simple poster hangs in one of the two wide windows that frame the door.

We do: - Hard Drive Repair - Internet Connectivity Issues - Computer virus protection - Turntables, record players, and other portable home audio systems - Radios - POS/credit card system repair (For stores in the Exodus Mall only)

We do not: - Sell computers or computer parts. Don't ask.

You raise a brow at the last note. The harsh exterior of the store and the brusque tone definitely match with what you've heard of Chen's Electronics - that the man who runs it is a computer genius, but that his bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Perhaps that's why the job posting emphasized 'superior customer service skills.'

The line you join grows, others coming in behind you, and you wonder if Jongdae told everyone the same 10am time frame or if he staggered interviews throughout the day. As you wait the line slowly dwindles. A woman leaves crying a few minutes later, and you watch her go with surprise and attempt to peek into the store. You’re still too far back to see in, so you’re left to wait and wonder.

Finally you’re next, waiting just outside the store. A printed piece of paper is taped to the door. CLOSED FOR INTERVIEWS it says in big, bolded letters.

The tall man who was ahead of you in line isn’t visible at either of the two work stations set up inside the shop. There must be a back room of some kind. You take the moment to check out the space. The store is organized chaos. Rows of shelves line each of the two walls, full of equipment - computers in various states of disassembly, old transistor radios, a VHS player, a few turntables, and endless coiled stacks of cords interspersed.

The walls above them and the two walls behind the work stations, on either side of the hallway leading to the back, are blank. No advertisements or personalized touches to make the business seem welcoming. Just bland, empty beige walls. One desk has only a computer, keyboard, and mouse. The other is full of parts and tools that extend over the desk to not one, but two shelving units behind it. Like Jongdae was in the middle of a project and the interviews are a rude interruption.

A muffled angry shout comes from the back, behind the gray curtain hung up over the entrance to the rear of the store. The tall man moves it aside with a sneer as he charges across the floor. With a voice practically a growl he shoves open the door and you jolt back to avoid being hit.

He looks you up and down and shakes his head. ‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’

After a last straightening of your jacket you swallow and push through the door. It's quiet inside, almost reverent, as the door closes behind you. The fluorescent lighting overhead isn't the most welcoming and the tan carpet is terribly dated. No one comes to meet you. The man on the other side must be waiting, like a dragon in his lair.

Your hand closes over the strap of your purse and you hesitate at the curtain, not wanting to move forward without being invited. 'Hello?'

Footsteps come down the short hallway and a hand appears, moving the curtain out of the way to reveal a man. Your jaw almost drops. Oh, shit. It's not at all who you were expecting the famed Jongdae to be - a studious man with glasses and a bad tie.

No, this man is handsome in an aggressive way. His black hair is styled back in a neat wave. His high cheekbones and strong brows hold no humor or friendliness. Only the catlike upturn of his lips stands in rebellious contrast to his unwelcoming face.

This isn't the first time you've seen this face either, you realize, and it's like being run over by a train. He seems to connect the dots at the same moment and his eyes widen, eyebrows raising. It’s the DJ from the bar. The drink. The - oh, god.

He presses his mouth together, smothering his surprise and sitting down harshly in the chair at the crowded desk in the main room. 'What are you doing here?' He keeps his voice tightly contained, not minding in the least that the other potential job candidates are surely watching you both right now.

You give yourself a small shake and remember you're not here to hit on him. You're here for a job. 'I have an interview.'

Best case is ignoring the whole thing. It didn’t happen. Not here in the light of day. His poker face might be good, but yours is better. You keep your breathing even and hope that the racing of your heart isn’t making your cheeks red.

He tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips together in amusement. ‘Alright then.’ Turning to the side he stands and holds the curtain open, allowing you to pass by him into the small office behind.

Holding his focus, you pull out the chair in front of the desk and sit down. You place the resume and references on the table between you and fold your hands on your lap, waiting.

Jongdae takes his place opposite you as he slides the papers across the desk. His eyes dart faster than you can imagine anyone reading. He doesn’t seem flustered, but the tips of his ears are just slightly pink, his nose flaring a bit too much, and you realize he’s just as caught off guard as you are.

Finally, he finishes. 'I… don't think this is going to work.' He looks up, his hand resting on your paperwork on the desk. His face gives away nothing, but his eyes are wild and full of emotion you can’t decipher.

'Why is that?' You keep your voice steady, determined. He’s not going to dismiss you so quickly. Realizing the DJ and the tech wunderkind are one in the same has only heightened your desire to show him you’re the best person for the job.

Jongdae stares at you. This time, there's heat in his expression. You feel his eyes move over you, not taking in the professional attire, but clearly remembering the dress you wore from the club instead. 'I think you know why,' he says under his breath.

Clearing your throat you lean forward, drawn to him by some force you can't define. Like something is shoving you towards this job. 'I don't know what you mean. The posting was for an office manager and bookkeeper. I'm qualified in both and I have plenty of experience. Are you really going to decide I’m not a good fit without even asking me a single question?'

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for an instant. 'Why do you want this position? You know nothing about me.'

He states it like a fact, not an opening for discussion, but you jump on it anyway. 'I know plenty.'

Satisfaction blooms in your chest when he narrows his eyes, raising a brow. 'I do my research, Mr. Kim. I’m top of my class at UW and I didn’t get there by accident. With such a small team I could get a far broader experience than I could being just another cog in the machine at Microsoft. I might not know you personally, but your reputation precedes you. I plan to excel in the tech industry. And to do that, I need to work with the best. Simple as that.'

'And I'm the best?' He leans back in his chair. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he drags a finger across his lips in appraisal.

His quick responses remind you of the competitive tennis you played growing up. The way it felt to thrive when paired with an equal opponent, someone who could match your speed and precision. Someone who gave as good as they got. How it made you better, sharpened your skills and reflexes up against someone who you couldn’t easily defeat.

'Are you trying to tell me you're not?' You cross your arms and look around, feigning surprise and curiosity. 'If you tell me who is, I'll happily go apply to be their office manager.'

He almost laughs in amusement. You can feel it. But he covers it as a cough instead and tilts his head to the side, sizing you up. 'And you know what this job entails?'

You repeat it easily from memory. 'Being the face of the business. Greeting walk-in customers. Helping them figure out if what they need is something we do. Conferring with you about pricing. Scheduling service appointments over the phone. Processing payments. Ordering supplies. Occasional advertising assistance. Other assorted duties as needed.'

'That about sums it up.'

In the charged silence you hear the muffled noises of the mall - children squealing with delight, orders being called out at the pizza restaurant next door, people talking - but it's all separated. You wonder if the distance is intentional. Many stores have roll up gates or at least have their doors propped open to draw in customers. But not Jongdae. It’s almost as though he’s actively trying to keep visitors out.

You favor boldness and decide to push him, what have you got to lose? 'So, when do I start?' Leaning forward, you give him a relaxed smile. ‘Unless you’d like to terrorize a few more applicants before you choose me? I’m happy to wait, Mr. Kim. But you can’t scare me away. And you don’t intimidate me.’

With equal decisiveness he cracks a lopsided grin and shakes his head, with both amusement and resignation. 'How's now for you?'

You give a passing thought to the other jobs, the ones you’d already interviewed for and the ones on your schedule over the coming days. They all go up in a whiff of smoke as you extend your hand across the table to shake Jongdae’s hand.

‘Now is perfect.’ His palm is warm against yours and you do your best not to react to the contact, but you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you.

Jongdae withdraws his hand quickly, and you note with pleasure that he seems a bit shaken as he stands. ‘I’ll be right back. You can leave your things here.’ He motions to the coat hooks on the wall by the door and the tall, thin bookshelf with a few cubby slots.

Aside from a black scarf and a few extra office supplies on two of the shelves the rest of the space is empty. You wonder what he isn't saying. 'What made you want help, all of a sudden?’ He pauses and turns back to you. ‘From what I can tell you've been in business for a few years. Why now?'

He sighs. 'I'm too busy to keep doing this by myself.'

'Ah. And you hate that, don't you?'

The ghost of a smile graces his lips. 'Yes.'

Jongdae disappears through the curtain. You follow him after putting your coat on a hook and your purse in one of the spotless cubbies. The rest of the space contains a few filing cabinets, stacks of boxes, and a small safe resting on a narrow table.

When you appear back into the hallway you see a door to the left that must lead out the back. And on the opposite side is an archway with a kitchen sink, a microwave, a small fridge, and a few cupboards inside, along with a small circular table. The table has only one chair. You smile to yourself. Clearly he's accustomed to doing everything by himself.

When you emerge the other applicants are dispersing as he peels the taped sign off the door, balling it up in his hands.

Jongdae gets you set up on the computer at the other desk. It’s a relatively simple customer management software and payment system, both of which you pick up in no time. He runs you through the pricing list, pulling a laminated form from the top drawer. His filing system for customer accounts is simple and alphabetized.

Neither of you speak about that night again, but oh, do you feel it - the electricity between you when he stands too close or you meet his eyes.

Until lunch he alternates between training you and assisting customers who come in every so often. It's all straightforward, nothing you haven't managed before, and by the afternoon you're already scheduling appointments in the large old-school appointment book he keeps open to the current week.

Despite the passion and intensity in the music he plays, he keeps an even keel throughout his day job. It's almost as if you went to sleep last night and somehow woke up as someone who's worked here for years. Before closing at 5:30 he remembers other things and hands you a packet on the way out. Tax forms, an employment agreement listing the salary and benefits, and a non-disclosure form. Most of it is standard, but you wonder what kind of secrets he needs to protect at an electronics store.

You gather your things and wait outside while he closes down the shop, turning off the lights as he goes. It’s still quite sunny outside and with a shock you realize that there’s nothing waiting for you, now that the work day is done. No papers to write or projects to finish or internship to head to. The idea makes you feel unexpectedly buoyant, and when Jongdae steps out to lock the doors you give him an easy smile.

He returns it, giving you a small one of his own in response. ‘So, I normally take Tuesdays off and keep the shop closed. Wednesdays are normally pretty slow. How does Thursday through Monday sound to you? I know today is Wednesday, so if you wanted to take tomorrow off instead that’s fine with me.’

‘I’m happy to come in tomorrow.’ You want to wince at the eagerness in your voice, but instead you stand firm, holding your purse in front of you with both hands.

Jongdae slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods, looking at you for a long moment before speaking. ‘Sounds great, I’ll see you then.’

You nod at him too, turning back towards the department store to head out to your car. After a beat you look behind you and see he’s still watching. His gaze is unfocused on the floor before he shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself. He heads the opposite direction, towards the movie theater. In a few seconds he’s disappeared behind the pizza place, out of sight.

Jongdae takes the longer route home today. His apartment overlooking Lake Union is the one he grew up in, his grandfather’s place. When he passed away a year ago he left it to Jongdae and it never occurred to him to move. He walks along the water, breathing in the early summer air, wanting to laugh at himself. How long has it been since he let himself be impulsive? To act on instinct. To want something.

He’d settled into a routine these past few years, since everything changed after graduation. Working at the store. Reading. Playing Go and chess with his grandfather and the other older men that lived in the building. They’d go fishing out on the peninsula or to the local symphonies that his grandfather loved. Routine had saved him when his world fell apart once, but now, with his grandfather’s absence, he’s not sure how to pick up the pieces anymore.

The seagulls on the pier are loud today, hungrily gobbling up the bread and Ivar’s french fries tossed to them by the kids gathered around. They giggle and laugh, running to their parents for more offerings. Jongdae frowns for a moment, the sadness that he doesn’t often acknowledge creeping into his heart.

His parents were gone before he really even had a chance to know them. His father to lung cancer, from the awful smoking habit he picked up in the Navy. His mother moved back to Korea to be with her family, unable to cope being in the city without her husband. Jongdae didn’t blame her, but the distance grew and they drifted apart as he became an adult himself.

Jongdae’s father’s father settled here after World War Two, along with a few of his friends. From what he remembers there wasn’t a discussion about it after the funeral - if he’d stay or go back to Korea with his mother. One day when he was young he knew his father had passed. His mother left. And with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders and little Jongdae in his arms his grandfather had moved him into the apartment with the pretty view of the water. 

And that’s the way it was, ever since.

In school his friends might have joked that Jongdae was an old man himself. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on Sundays, getting his hair cut at the same hole-in-the-wall barber shop in Chinatown as his grandfather, and hanging out with more octogenarians than people his own age. But he loved his grandfather and the two of them were so close that he never stopped to question whether he should change to fit in with the rest of his classmates.

The only aberration came when he started DJ-ing at eighteen. The crowd he fell in with and the partying he did was short lived; they crashed and burned, went up in flames. Everything else faded as quickly as it had come, but the club scene was his escape and it stayed with him.

These days it feels like the only time he recognizes himself, now that his grandfather is gone, too. Until you walked into his store today, that is. You looked him dead in the eyes, unafraid. Just like the night all those weeks ago in the club when you came up to him, flirted with him and challenged him.

He doesn’t know how to move on with his life.

He doesn’t know what’s next.

But wanting you, inviting you into his life, is going to change everything. He knows it in his bones and for once change excites him, instead of frightens him.

June 18th, 1997

For an achingly slow two hours on Thursday the only sounds in the shop are your typing and Jongdae’s tools hitting the metallic insides of the radio he’s fixing. You should be processing yesterday's supply orders. Or cleaning up the books to get everything ready for the days' billing before you make a run to the bank.

But instead you watch in your periphery the way the muscle in Jongdae’s jaw moves when he's focusing. How his brows pull together and his lower lip sticks out slightly, making him look as though he's perpetually pouting. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in school. If he was always so... uptight. Or if he was freer, looser. Not that you’re the picture of ease yourself, but he seems to almost vibrate with tension.

You watch as he turns back to the computer, his fingers fly across the keyboard and you admire the absolute focus he shows toward the screen in front of him. The past few days he’s handled repairs and projects for businessmen and women, families, and two gentlemen in suits that screamed ‘government’ to you. He could be repairing a nuclear warhead in front of you and you imagine his expression would remain the same.

His standard white button-up shirt bunches around his biceps while he works. A mischievous part of you wonders what it would take to make his robotic exterior crack again. What it would take for him to show joy or anger or arousal. Emotion from him is a precious, rare thing and you want to grab them when they do show, holding them tightly as proof they exist.

You jolt, realizing the unintended destination your thoughts have arrived at. Arousal. Where did that come from? With a cough and a shake of your head you refocus on the financial statements in front of you.

If you hadn't seen him that night at the club you'd have wondered if he ever enjoyed himself. He wasn't smiling that night, but the music and the dancing and the palpable energy seemed to soften the hard lines of his face. You want to see more of that Jongdae, the one that feels so much closer to who he really is, underneath it all.

However he started in this business, in the tech scene, he works away at it as though it's his sole purpose in life. He's clearly talented enough to fix anything, code anything. You’d asked him last week how he knows what to do, as you looked into a complicated mess of wires sticking out of a broken CPU as though it were gibberish.

All he’d said, in a gruff voice, was that his grandfather liked to tinker and take things apart before putting them back together, to see how they worked, and that he’d picked up the habit.

'Why do you work by yourself?' The sound of your voice is much louder than intended, breaking the hush in the store. You want to swallow the words, unsure why you didn't stop them from escaping. Instead you bite the skin on the inside of your cheek and watch as he lifts his head to look at you.

Jongdae raises a brow. 'As opposed to?'

You stop typing and lean back in your chair. 'You could have worked for anyone, I bet. After you graduated college. I’ve heard a few of the rumors about you. It sounds like you could have done anything you wanted. What made you want to start your own business?'

He mirrors your pose. 'What makes you think I went to college?'

You blink. For so long your parents' idea of a prosperous life - good grades, extracurriculars, graduate from a top college, get a lucrative, secure job - had been so ingrained that it surprises you to imagine that someone like him didn't go to school. 'You didn't?'

He smiles, the dimple appearing briefly in his cheek. 'Alright, fine. Yes, I did. I went to M.I.T. and I, uhm, graduated at seventeen.'

'Seventeen?' The competitive drive that buried itself in your bones early on wants to prove itself to him, awed by the size of his intellect.

'With my PhD.' He winces. Just for a moment, but you catch it.

'Oh,' you say with a stunned laugh.

He goes back to work with a quick shake of his head and a sigh. 'Yeah, that right there is why I don't tell people.'

You’re surprised by his assumption that you’d view it as a bad or repulsive fact. 'It's amazing. You should be proud of it. Why would you want to keep that a secret?'

His lip pouts again and irrationally you think about what it would be like to kiss him. 'Because now you'll look at me differently. Like I'm some kind of freak of nature.'

'I don't think it makes you a freak.' Your answer is immediate and emphatic.

'Oh really?' He gives you a side-glance, keeping his tone neutral.

'No, it makes you a genius. And intelligence is never a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.' It does nothing to help the attraction you feel for him. Rather than dousing the flames, it pours gasoline on them.

'Tell that to -' he stops himself, pressing his lips together. The bitterness in his voice makes you jerk back in your seat. ‘Nevermind. It was a long time ago. Forget I said anything.’

But you can fill in the gaps, no stranger to the judgement of others. 'Clearly you need better friends.'

He blinks, vulnerability filling his eyes. 'Like you?' His expression softens and he gives you a half-smile.

You blush, realizing what it must look like that you’re so passionate about defending him. 'Sorry, I didn't - all I mean is that it’s attractive.’ You curse yourself and cough delicately, trying to appear impartial. ‘An attractive quality. I just got my master’s and I thought I was advanced for my age. So I just meant to say… I get it. And you’re not a freak.’

The moment stretches out between you, the air in the space seeming to pause. The muted, reverent silence fills the distance once more. But this time it’s charged, tense. Waiting. He breathes in deeply, the shirt he wears stretching across his chest and yet again you long to touch him. For a beat his gaze drops to your lips and he swallows, opening his mouth to speak.

But he’s interrupted by the door opening. The ding of the motion sensor makes you both jolt, turning to see who it is. An older woman comes in carrying a heavy looking bag. She coughs and leans against the door to rest.

Jongdae bolts up from his desk, clearing his throat. 'Here, let me help with that.'

He bows to her with a warm smile, holding his hands out to take the bag. She nods and Jongdae slings the bag over his shoulder, wincing when it collides with his back. With a gentle arm around her back he helps her into the chair opposite his desk.

'Thank you, young man,' the woman says with a smile.

'Not at all,' Jongdae says, resuming his post on the stool. 'How can I help you today?'

You're certain your mouth has fallen open. To difficult customers he's brief, almost condescending, and for the nice ones he’s reserved and polite, but nothing like this. For over an hour he patiently connects the woman's computer to his power strip and walks her through how to use it. 

Again and again he shows her the links and how to work the web browser. Installs a complimentary virus protection program. Makes sure she can find the Solitaire application she loves. And only charges her $20.

But after she leaves the next customer is a businessman dressed in what looks to be a very expensive suit. Jongdae spends the laughably short visit practically sneering at the man. And he charges him at least twice what it says on the pricing list he gave you.

As soon as the door closes you release the laugh you’ve been holding in. 'You know, for someone who runs a business, you seem hell bent on driving some of your customers away.'

He shakes his head, hair falling in his eyes. 'He was a moron. You don't buy the Rolls Royce of computers if you don't know how to drive it.'

'So the only exception here is kind old ladies?'

Jongdae barks out a laugh, meeting your gaze and looking younger than you’ve ever seen him. 'Exactly.'

June 28th, 1997

Moments after you walk out the door for lunch during a bustling Saturday it pings again, announcing yet another customer. This one is probably his scheduled twelve o’clock appointment, Jongade thinks as he looks distractedly at his watch.

He turns to greet them and his entire body recoils. 'What do you want?' Jongdae practically hisses, but he keeps his tone even with all his might.

Since you’ve taken over scheduling Jongdae hardly looks at his calendar anymore. If he’d known Julian Danforth was seeking his help he would have told him to fuck off. Unfortunately Jongdae’s hesitation in talking about his past means you could have no possible idea how much the man standing before him used to matter.

Julian strolls in with a computer in his arms and a smugness on his mouth that Jongdae wants to punch off. His sunglasses are perched on the top of his head and his khaki shorts have neatly pressed lines, clearly not done by the man himself, who drips with privilege.

He'd thought these feelings were long buried, but they roar in Jongdae’s chest. The friendships and the future he almost had are now scattered behind him like a trail of carnage, all the fault of this man. The burn of sadness and embarrassment that fills Jongdae’s stomach was supposed to be gone, relinquished to ashes. But seeing one of his former best friends again Jongdae feels like he's ten years old, stuck in a class with far older students. Young, inexperienced, an outcast.

‘Good afternoon to you as well, old friend.’ Ignoring the daggers Jongdae is staring at him, Julian steps forward, setting the computer down on the desk. 'Like I told the woman on the phone I'm having a problem with some computer virus.'

He says it like it’s a slimy, living thing that had crawled into his machine. Displeasure colors his expression; annoyed at the mere thought that his money and status don’t render him immune from such commonplace problems. ‘You know I don’t trust anyone else with my system.’

After what you did I should smash your computer open. Jongdae doesn't speak as plugs the machine into the power strip he rigged to his desk, not willing to risk what he’ll say.

It's a far more expensive model of computer than most of his clients bring in. Those who purchase such a high end version fall into two camps - enthusiasts like himself who know what they're getting, or the rich and famous who buy them as status symbols and have no clue how to work them. Julian, unfortunately, falls into the latter category.

The computer starts up and Jongdae’s mind goes into work mode, tuning out Julian. The virus has rendered it unusable, only a blur of symbols and lines of code flit across the screen. None of the normal exit keys brings up the desktop. Jongdae purses his lips and slides in the floppy disk he keeps beside his own monitor, an anti-virus he designed.

He leans into muscle memory as he runs through the start up and sets the program to do its job. With any luck the idiot just found some simple malware from some incredibly obvious email spam or downloaded a bug on a porn site. In all social and business sense Julian is a shark; he'd never have fallen for such an obvious scam in real life. But when it came to computers and technology he was hopeless, and thus Jongdae had come into his life years ago.

'How long have you been set up here?' Julian asks with a dismissive glance at the machines and equipment stacked on the shelves.

'Why do you care?' The question comes out harsher than he intends, but the emotion isn't entirely unearned.

Once upon a time he and Julian met in Seattle, after Jongdae was fresh out of M.I.T. and Julian had flunked out of yet another University. They were determined to build a business together. If he had more energy Jongdae would wear this store and his reputation proudly, built from no family connections or money, just his own intelligence and drive. After how thoroughly Julian severed Jongdae’s life he should rub his success in Julian’s face with pride.

Instead he ignores him, determined to move on.

The program finishes its run in rapid time, as though it knows how quickly Jongdae wants this moment to end. The virus dissipates and the desktop loads like normal. He's tempted for a second to indulge his curiosity to see what Julian has been up to. Last he knew Julian had gone to work at his father’s investment bank, dreams of standing on his own cowed by the reality of the world outside of his comfortable bubble. Without Jongdae there’s no way the business and the program held up to scrutiny. 

For a second Jongdae stares at the screen, remembering how good it had felt to have found his people. Tech nerds, hungry to build something that would change the world. Julian, who wanted to cast off his father’s legacy and strike out on his own. Julian’s girlfriend Marissa and her soft heart, who wanted to help people. Their friend Albert, with the plan. 

Once he knew them so well he hardly knew where he ended and they began. But now, all these years later, they’re strangers.

Jongdae looks up and watches Julian as he absently admires the collection of turntables on the wall behind the desk. He knows Julian well enough to know this might be an act of contrition, his way of bridging the gap he created to reach out the olive branch of friendship once more. But Jongdae’s curiosity already killed the cat once, spectacularly, and he has no desire to repeat the mistake.

He unplugs the machine and watches the screen go dark, shoving it with both hands across the polished wood surface towards Julian. 'There. It's fixed.'

For customers who are far more polite and far less acquainted with Jongdae he might have explained what caused the virus or recommended an anti-virus software or even shared best practices to avoid getting one in the future. But, for Julian, he'll do what he was hired for and nothing more.

Julian stands and clears his throat uncomfortably. 'How much do I owe you?' A hint of guilt as he pulls out his wallet.

The motion reminds Jongdae of vacations to Marissa's family home in the San Juans or partying with Julian, Albert, and the rest of them in Capitol Hill. When they turned on him it was like the sun went out. He managed to take his pride and his love of music and DJing and escape. Once Jongae rebuilt his life the doors to the past firmly closed.

Anger finally peeks through as he waves a dismissive arm at Julian. 'I don't want your money. Not spending a second longer in your company will be all the payment I need.' He stands as well. Their business today is done and he lets his memories of the past fall before him like ashes.

An awkward beat passes between them and finally Julian breaks eye contact. With a nod to the ground he pushes out the door and disappears, carrying his computer.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, folds his arms, annoyed at how his position and his continued presence here in Seattle occasionally brings him into contact with people like Julian. He should have moved, he thinks. Gone to Singapore or Berlin or London or New York. But for some reason, he stayed.

Through the front window he watches you laugh with your friends in the food court and smiles to himself, thinking of how you call him Scrooge. It should unnerve him, how quickly seeing you or speaking to you or simply thinking you makes his day better, more hopeful; chases away the shadows that linger in his mind when he's left alone for too long. No, left alone isn't the right word. When he isolates himself.

Jongdae doesn’t really know you, not yet. But already he wants to make all of your dreams come true, he wants to make them real. 

The thought is so sentimental and kind and soft that it brings him up short. He bites the inside of his lip and tries to fight the warm feeling in his chest as he watches you laugh. But as he resumes his work he acknowledges that maybe there was a reason he stayed in Seattle, after all.

The mall is packed during lunch; it’s one of the only days you and your roommates and Hitchcock all work together so you’ve christened it Saturday girl’s lunch time. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol of course crash in, as they always seem to. Loud and raucous and happy. Others from their wide circle of friends drop by to grab slices or to make plans for tonight.

Baekhyun sticks two straws in his nose and makes what are probably very scientifically inaccurate walrus noises. As you laugh so hard you almost snort you can’t help but feel like something is missing. Someone is missing. You look back to the shop, drawn to Jongdae as always.

He works away, resuming his repairs after chasing another customer away with his attitude. You sigh, watching the blonde preppy man carry away his enormous computer, muttering to himself. You rest your foot on the edge of your chair and drop your chin to your knee. From this angle, surrounded by the stark design of the store and the fluorescent lights from above, Jongdae looks like he’s trapped inside of a screen himself.

You bite your lip, debating. He’s made it clear that whatever happened between you at the club isn’t something he will discuss, or repeat. But friendship? Community? You work together five days a week and it wouldn’t kill him to get out of his enclosure once in a while. It’s done you good this month, to be out and about with people. Like you can finally breathe for the first time in a long time. And you decide that it’s high time Jongdae do the same.

Liz and Jane, your roommates, call you ‘determined.’ But they say it in a way that clearly means ‘like a homing missile,’ when you want something. Your nature has served you well; you can cut through the bullshit and figure people out almost instantly. It’s helped you both professionally and personally. Allowed you to know immediately which friendships would last, which ones were worth the effort.

Maybe it’s how Jongdae looks like an island, all alone in the shop. Maybe it’s the large Coke that infused you with far too much caffeine. Maybe it’s your insatiable curiosity. But you can’t keep watching him from afar, not when there’s something you can do about it.

‘I’ll be right back.’ Pulling on your denim jacket, you march over to the store. You lean inside the glass door, holding it open with your shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’

Jongdae looks up at you, confusion tugging his brows together, making him befuddled in the cutest way. You tell yourself to stop thinking of him like that, even if you want to.

He blinks and refocuses on you. ‘Back already?’

‘No, but we’ve got more than enough pizza. Why don’t you join us?’ You grin, making a show of looking around the empty office. ‘It’s finally slowed down, and you deserve a break.’

‘I’m on a deadline with this.’ He gestures to the modem that is scattered around him.

You fold your arms and lean against the door. ‘You can fix that in twenty minutes. I know you.’ He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. ‘And before you throw another excuse you should know I’m very persuasive when I want to be. I don’t think you have another option.’

Jongdae barks out a laugh, dropping the tools in his hand to the desk with a thud. ‘Determined to drag me from my lair, huh?’ He holds your gaze, his expression filling with something akin to heat. Finally he gives you a rueful smile. ‘You’re not going to give up on this, are you?’

You meet his eyes and raise a brow, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Nope. Absolutely not.’

The certainty on his face turns into sadness, so fast you can’t be sure it was really there. Then he closes off and he’s quiet, more so than normal. ‘It doesn’t come easily to me.’

Wondering what could have changed so quickly you step forward, letting the door close behind you. ‘What, pizza?’

It shakes you how desperately you want to know. To peel back his skull and see inside his brain, just to understand what makes him tick. His history and where his future is headed. That small voice inside you whispers that once you figure it out, it still won’t make you care less about him.

‘Friends.’ He says it on a gasp. Looking at the floor fixedly, avoiding your eyes, he seems haunted.

The silence surrounds you both and he finally meets your focus again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The pieces start to come together. He’s intelligent, preternaturally so, and so advanced in school you can’t imagine he’s had much experience with people his own age. And now that he’s in his mid-twenties he’s built himself a fortress. Close enough to the rest of the world, but distinctly separate.

Irrationally you want to reach across the space and wrap his hands in yours. Tug him into your growing group of friends and fix the ache in your chest his expression gives you. Not sympathy and certainly not pity, but some sensation that’s like butterflies in your stomach. But- he’s your boss. You’re not his keeper and you don’t think whatever dangerous emotion lives in you is what would help him.

He’s not yours and you don’t have the right to push, much that you want to.

‘Ah,’ you say. ‘I see. Well, more often than not we have Saturday pizza out there. The offer always stands. I’ll leave you be if you want to be alone, but just -’ you swallow and give him a tentative smile. ‘Just know that we’d be happy to have you join us. I’d be. Uhm. Happy if you joined us.’ It comes out in a rush and you groan.

With a shake of your head, an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, you wave at him and push back out the door into the noise of the mall.

It’s a shame you don’t turn back. Or no, he thinks, it’s better this way. Jongdae feels far too much for you to keep it contained behind his normally stony expression.

You seem like the kind of person who would take that moment of openness and pull on it, until he unravels in front of you. Fear tells him you would take everything and when you're gone he'd be even more alone than before, now that he knows what it's like with you here.

Looking out through the glass he watches you rejoin the lively group. Always he’s felt like a science experiment, or some kind of circus exhibit when he was growing up. If he didn’t have his grandfather’s steady support and gentle guidance he surely would have become even more isolated.

With a shake of his head, he attempts to refocus on the project at hand. For some reason it doesn't fill him up like he wants it to, his usual joy and satisfaction is missing when he picks up the screwdriver once more. This is where he thrives. Computers and the internet and coding.

To other people it's a labyrinth, impossible to figure out. A world and a language they can speak and learn with effort and intention and study. But to him it's always been as easy as breathing.

His grandfather took his skills from the military and parlayed them into a business as a prolific handyman. It was the world they shared. A place where Jongdae’s creativity and his intelligence could soar. Anything he wanted to build or make, he could. Coding a rudimentary game to pass the time after school, when he could hear the neighborhood kids playing soccer outside.

It took him many wonderful places that he wouldn't have been able to reach if he was, for lack of a better word, normal. As a child and even in school it was so easy to hide behind his grades and his projects and the pride and hope of the adults around him. But now, at twenty five, there’s nothing to keep him hidden anymore.

When lunch is over you return and join him with a nod. He hopes you don't regret asking. He nearly hopes you'll try again. Maybe next Saturday.

For how confident he feels in some spaces - DJing at Shari's, here in his ‘lair’ - at the thought of joining a group of friends he feels again like a nervous thirteen year old sitting in his first college course. Like everyone around him knew how to do things he couldn’t comprehend.

He keeps his thoughts and his feelings to himself; he’s already shared more than he planned. But you draw him back into conversation easily enough, asking about the afternoons orders to be picked up. You don't shy away from him or give him an angry offended air. Inexplicably you still look at him warmly, openly, and he wants more than he's dared to let himself want in a very, very long time.

July 11th, 1997

He doesn't normally leave the office at lunch, preferring to eat his meals in his back office alone, but today Jongdae braves the food court.

It’s a Friday not a Saturday, but it’s a start. He makes brief, yet friendly, conversation with Chanyeol at the pizza place. The taller man smiles at Jongdae, easily, as though he doesn’t second guess the action. He asks if Jongdae had caught the Mariner's game over the weekend and they talk about how Griffey might finally lead Seattle to a World Series this year.

For once he doesn't feel like going back to the office and burying his head in his work. Jongdae awkwardly pulls out a chair in the cluster of tables between the bookstore and the record store. As he takes a bite of his pizza he hears a familiar laugh. Turning around he sees you through the glass of the bookstore.

You speak to the woman who owns Greyhame Books, standing beside someone he thinks is possibly called Jane. It all seems so… easy for you. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean against the counter, discussing the stack of books in front of you with your friends.

Jongdae gives a rare laugh to no one but himself.

When he imagined hiring an accountant and administrator for his flourishing business he thought he'd get someone older. A person with experience and a similar level of wanting to be left alone. They could ignore him and he could ignore them, delegating filing and payments and customer questions and not have to think about them again.

An employee was supposed to reclaim the silence and peace that his work used to bring. Technology is so much simpler and predictable than humans and he’d really prefer to cut other people out of the equation entirely.

But you are the opposite of simple, and you absolutely aren’t someone he can ignore. From the moment he recognized you he knew he had to hire you. With your intensity and your impressive resume and the way your mouth pulls to the side when you’re trying not to smirk.

He doesn't regret it. But he feels raw in a way he hasn't allowed himself to in years. Jongdae doesn't let people get close. Not anymore.

'Hey, Jongdae!'

With a pizza slice halfway to his mouth Jongdae spots Junmyeon approaching, waving, a large Starbucks drink in hand.  He wants to turn away and hide in his pizza. He isn't good at this - making friends. For months Junmyeon has asked him to join in their monthly networking events here at the mall, or asked him to get a drink at Flanagan’s after work to chat. Jongdae’s all out of excuses.

He imagines his life as a circuit board. There’s his life now - pieces and wires scattered around him - and there’s the life he could have. If he’s brave and if he tries. He imagines the pieces fitting together and what they might build. He wonders if you might fit in, if you’d want him or let him.

His knee is jiggling and he’s nervous, but he takes a deep breath and waves back. ‘Hey Jun! Want to join me for a bit?’ Jun’s expression is surprised - the man doesn’t know how to keep back any of his emotions. ‘If you have time, I mean. No pressure.’ He stutters, pulse racing and cheeks reddening.

Jun grins and sits down opposite him. ‘Absolutely. About time! I thought you’d turn me down forever,’ he laughs. ‘Thanks again for helping me with that broken radio last month. You’re a pro. So, how’s business?’ He sips his coffee and waits patiently.

They can talk about business, something so easy? Jongdae wants to laugh with relief. Maybe he can do this after all.

Junmyeon is amused.

After ten minutes of talking shop with Jongdae he watches as you and Jane leave the bookstore next to their lunch spot. He’s owned a business two doors down from Jongdae for years, but he’s never seen him smile before. When you pass by it’s like someone flipped on a light switch. Jongdae has always been somewhat quiet, somewhat serious, except when he DJs. Now he sits straighter, his face softens, and his eyes fixate on yours like a magnet.

The two of you claim the other seats at the table, showing off the books you purchased. In between sips of his coffee Junmyeon balances his own flirtation with Jane and observing - okay, spying - on you and Jongdae.

He’s warmed by not just the caffeinated beverage. There’s a soft energy here- It’s a warm summer day and he’s discussing books, one of his all-time favorite topics. His mind whispers the words ‘double date’ and he smiles to himself for a moment before blinking.

“Are you alright?” Jane asks, gently resting her hand on Junmyeon’s wrist on the table.

He blushes and gives her a reassuring nod and asks if she’s read the Octavia Butler book on top of her stack yet. It’s an attempt at distraction and he knows it. But thankfully Jane’s eyes crinkle in the corners when she talks about the author, not pausing or seeming to notice the way he was fantasizing for a beat.

Across from him you and Jongdae are arguing about the merits of Isaac Asmiov. Jongdae is more articulate, more animated, more alive than he’s ever seen him. Gesturing emphatically and saying something about how robots are friends, not foes as you interrupt him by reminding him about Terminator. Neither of you seem to acknowledge the attraction between you. It’s been months since you started working at Chen’s, if Junmyeon remembers correctly.

In his periphery he sees Temptation, the chocolate store, and thinks of how Yixing and his girlfriend met on the job. One of his favorite poems mentions how love mirrors the lover; that everyone falls in love in a way akin to their personality. Yixing, passionate and insatiable and spontaneous, fell for Lavender in minutes and days. He saw what he wanted and after a slight pause to make sure it’s what Lav really wanted, he made the move.

Jongdae is nothing if not the complete opposite. Calculating and reserved and inscrutable.

His potential new friend is falling, if the lingering looks he gives you and the way he’s almost touched your shoulder not once but twice are any indication. But it’s a mystery to Junmyeon if, or when, Jongdae will ever make a move. You aren’t the same kind of romantic as Yixing’s girlfriend, someone playful and open with your emotions. You’re driven and witty and warm in your own way. Clearly you care for Jongdae, but in a quieter sense.

Junmyeon imagines this will be a marathon of love, not a sprint.

Eventually lunch hours end for all of you. There’s clients to see and paperwork to do and as he waves to you and Jane he wonders what will become of you and Jongdae. If you’ll stay as co-workers, always flirting and secretly wondering what might be. Or if either of you will push the other into action. The chess board is laid out, pieces waiting to be moved. It might just be his imagination, but Junmyeon hopes that one of you gets the game going.

He does also, perhaps, focus on you and Jongdae as a way to ignore how his own heart beats a bit faster around Jane. How he can’t stop staring at her dimple when she smiles or the head tilt she gives him when she’s really listening. Like he’s the only person in the world. No, he absolutely doesn’t think about Jane’s feet i n his lap as they both read on the couch in his living room. He doesn’t wonder what it would be like to kiss her or hold her hand. Absolutely not.

Instead he invites Jongdae to the monthly Settlers of Catan night he has with Minseok and some other folks from the mall. Much safer territory than wondering about his own love story and if still waters truly do run deep where he and Jane are concerned.

August 11th, 1997

On a surprisingly rainy yet unsurprisingly dead Monday morning Jongdae forces you away from your insistent attempts to organize his paperwork to the market a few streets over. The quiet bakery on the hill above Pike Place has a view of the misty Sound beyond. He sits close beside you, carefully keeping his knees away, lest he bump yours and you do the same, perhaps letting them linger a moment each time they collide.

It’s nice here, you notice suddenly, as you take the first sip of your coffee. The smell of dark roast and fresh almond scones. The breeze coming in through the open door. The soothing, distant sound of jazz from the overhead speaker. The pleasant warm lighting, far different than the aggressively bland fluorescent kind he chose for Chen's. Everything puts you at ease, wraps around you the way you wish Jongdae’s arms would.  

'This place reminds me of Amsterdam.' You smile, looking down into your cappuccino to avoid Jongdae’s eyes.

‘Have you ever been?’ he asks, voice softer than it normally is.

With a shake of your head you trace the edge of the teal and white ceramic cup in front of you. ‘No, but I’ve seen pictures. I used to love photo books growing up. Atlases and travel guides. It’s always been my favorite section of the library.’

He hums for a moment, considering. 'If you could go anywhere in the world, is that where you'd choose?'

Tucking your hair behind your ears you bite your lip to avoid grinning at him. He’s making you remember long-forgotten parts of yourself. Before school and work became the end point, the be-all end-all that your life was funnelled towards. Back when you imagined exploring every country on the planet. Taking photos and making memories. A long time ago, in the days before you realized how expensive it is to actually be a wanderlust-filled adventurer.

Finally you look at him. Something in his irises makes you swallow; an endless, nameless emotion that lives in him you can never seem to place. Elusive and frustrating and tempting all at once.

‘Yes,’ you admit. Voice dry and heart racing you look back to your coffee in avoidance. ‘It’s my dream to travel there. I’m a bit obsessed with it, really.’

'You? Obsessed?' Jongdae smirks, a boyish grin you want to cover with your own mouth.

You roll your eyes, tracing the handle of your mug. 'Hush. It's such a beautiful city with all the canals and the architecture and history, and the food is to die for. Every quaint European city fantasy in one. What about you, have you done much traveling?'

He shakes his head. ‘Not personally. But - my grandfather went everywhere in Europe, after the war.’ His admission is so quiet you almost miss it. But it’s as if your soul is waiting for every crack in the door to Jongdae you can find, and you don’t pass up the opportunity. ‘What was he like?’

It happens sometimes, when you’re working together. The times there’s no customers around and the mall gets empty and you can’t help but be aware of him. Against your skin and with your hands, eyes feasting on him when the rest of you is forbidden from doing so. In the moments when he isn’t putting on airs of being the tech mogul or the reclusive jerk or the awkward, secretly friendly nerd around Jun or Minseok.

Those times when Jongdae meets your eyes and you see the real him, beneath it all. Wanting and alone and scared. Your breath catches in your throat just as it does now and you long to ask him plainly if he feels the way you do. Being honest with your words and not just your jokes or looks out the corner of your eyes when you catch him watching you too.

But those feel too fragile, too dangerous to utter. So instead you ask him about his family, someone close enough to Jo ngdae’s heart to glimpse the core of him; like a sun during an eclipse you can only look for a moment, lest you get burned.

'My grandfather?’ Brows furrow, the corners of his cat-like lips tilting down for a moment. You nod gently, cupping your drink for something to occupy your hands.

Jongdae looks out at the water for a moment, his mouth tugging to the side as he ponders. ‘You know when you finally solve a puzzle you’ve been working on for ages? Hours of struggling to find the right combination and finally it’s all laid out, perfectly in alignment.’

You nod, trying not to smile and ruin the moment, but softened by him nonetheless. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

When his gaze lands on your hands he pauses, like he’s wondering if the two of you might fit in a similar way. But it’s gone before you can grasp onto the moment. Sadness colors his features then. Not the aching kind that gnaws away like a feral monster, leaving nothing in its wake, but the beautiful, bittersweet sadness of a love greater than grief.

His voice is thick when he next speaks. ‘My grandfather was that person for me. We just - fit. He understood me better than my parents did. More than any of my classmates or the few people I’ve ever gone out with. We didn’t even need to speak.’ Jongdae pauses and taps his fingers on the counter.

You give in and reach for his hand, not to hold it - not yet. But to cover it with your own for a moment of understanding, of comfort.

He smiles at you, the crease between his brows disappearing for a moment. ‘He was fifty one years older than me and he was my best friend.’

‘I’ll bet you miss him quite a lot?’ You realize how incredibly inadequate the sentiment is and shake your head, moving to withdraw your hand. ‘Sorry - that’s - of course you miss him.’

But Jongdae doesn’t let you retreat. With his free hand he holds yours in place. Warmth floods your body from the connection point and you’re unable to take your eyes off him. ‘It’s alright, I know what you mean.’ He traces your thumb with a barely there motion, seemingly without intending to. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ You ask, a bit breathless and unable to mind.

‘For always asking. For always listening.’ He says it simply, as though it’s a novel concept. Perhaps, given what you know of his life, who he is, not many people dare to ask. Or bother to listen.

Soon paperwork and customers and regular life draw you back to Chen’s Electronics. He doesn’t mention the way you reached for him and you don’t either. But when you go to leave that afternoon Jongdae holds out your jean jacket for you to slip on. And when you thank him he gives you the soft, secret grin you’ve learned he saves only for you.

On the way home you think that Amsterdam might be the most beautiful city you can imagine, but that it pales in comparison to a hole-in-the-wall cafe in Seattle, as long as Jongdae is seated beside you.

September 9th, 1997

The summer turns into fall and one Monday evening, seemingly without his noticing, Jongdae realizes that his appointment book is full to bursting.

On Tuesday night he's playing Settlers of Catan with Minseok, Bookworm, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon. They meet up in the food court after the mall closes at nine, second Tuesday of every month.

Wednesday he has lunch with Jun and some other business owners in the mall for their monthly networking/commiserating 'sesh' as Yixing calls it. That afternoon he's promised to help Minseok install the new upgrades to his store's database software that 'make him want to rip out his hair' in exchange for a few coveted LPs Jongdae's had his eyes on for a 70’s/grunge remix set at Shari's.

Thursday night there’s a L.A. Confidential screening at the theater that Baekhyun talked him into, after their argument about whether or not Russel Crowe could actually act or if he was just handsome.

Saturdays are pizza and raucous laughter to break up the busy weekends full of work and clients and deadlines, followed by long nights of DJ-ing and circling you as if you are a sun, drawing him in with the pull of your gravity. He’s merely a comet attracted by the force you give off and he’s not even upset at the realization.

Sehun, Jongin, and Yixing practically bribed him into joining their 'Sunday morning brunch and biceps' workout group, saying that they need a fourth and everyone else is normally sleeping off their hangovers or works the opening shift.

It’s other people’s names all over his schedule, but what he feels is you. Everywhere, all over him. He knows it’s you. Not intentionally, perhaps. But you opened a door for him with your ease and generosity. One Saturday pizza lunch and somehow he’s gotten to know more people in two months at the mall than he had in the years before combined.

You’d wave him off if he mentioned it or thanked you. With that adorable tilt of your head you would smirk and tell him that all he has to do is give people a chance. That they don’t bite.

Irrationally he wants to do things for you - not just as a friend but in the romantic sense - like buy you flowers or have you by his side at Thursday movie screenings or take you to Amsterdam, just to watch you bloom among the flowers. But that would be… crazy, right? He sits in his favorite armchair unable to focus on the book in front of him and runs agitated hands through his hair.

He’s not your boyfriend or your partner. He’s your boss or your co-worker and possibly your friend. Why does he think of holding your hand and walking along the canals of some foreign city every time you look in his direction?

Why does the once-comforting quiet of his apartment feel more and more empty when you’re not laying on the couch across from him, reading and teasing him? Why does he wake up and wish that someone besides himself filled his bed? Someone with your expressions and your joy and your stubborn insistence.

He briefly makes a mental note to ask Yixing how he ended up dating Lavender before suddenly tossing the book to the floor, standing with a groan.

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ he yells aloud to the empty apartment. Jongdae paces circles in the carpet of his living room and wonders if part of being in love is going slightly insane, if everyone who manages to do so finds the madness enjoyable or if love is simply folie à deux?

He looks at his calendar, spread open on his grandfather’s old, wooden desk and tries to comprehend how his life could be so different one year to the next. Like he’s grasping at straws or wisps of air. Aside from work and his grandfather and music, what did he have before? The occasional alumni event or guest lecture at his alma maters?

For a minute his chest feels too full to breathe, unable to let in anything more. Panic tugs at him for a second. It’s too much, all at once - too many people and too many events. Too many opportunities to mess up and these people? He can’t sever his life completely like he did from Julian and his friends. They're so connected to this space he's made his business in. What will happen when he inevitably falls out of favor with them?

He imagines himself shunned and the idea hurts worse than before. Back then he had chosen isolation; to have it thrust unwillingly upon him, unasked, is too much to comprehend.

Once he walked naively into friendship, believing it was easy and that it would last. That there was no rug that would be unceremoniously swept out from under him. But people change, faster than he can believe.

Jongdae sits on the floor, his pajama pants brushing his crossed legs, and forces himself to steady his breathing. These people are not his old friends at Microsoft, he reminds himself. Nor are they the kids in school who teased him, or his classmates in college who resented him or treated him like an annoyance.

Like he’s always practiced, he turns to facts to calm his mind. He’s safe - the apartment is his and he has plenty of money. Not just from his business but from his grandfather’s life insurance. If he wanted to leave - if he was forced to, he thinks he could do it. But something within him howls at the idea of leaving what he has now.

For the first time in ages he has ideas, plans, and dreams for what to do with his life. Now he has people he cares about, people who he trusts to be kind rather than fearing they’ll betray or leave him. You’re at the center of it, if you let him. Determination takes hold of him and doesn’t let go. After a few moments his panic subsides, washed away by the bright promise of a future he’s never dared to imagine before now. Before you.

September 13th, 1997

By the end of your second drink you contemplate being the one to risk it all and ask Jongdae out.

In the months you’ve worked together you stopped seeing him as a challenge and started viewing him instead as the push to your pull. The yang to your yin. The - you sip on your rum and coke and get lost in the tug of his brows and the set of his lips as he spins rather than finding another apt metaphor.

The first time you met him you knew there was something underneath his hard exterior, but you had no idea how correct you’d be proven. Somehow he walks the tightrope between being harsh and being softer than you thought possible. But rather than turn you off you find you’re drawn to his bewildering mix of wry humor, nerdy fixations, and raw emotion. It unlocks all the jagged parts of you that you try to keep so nicely pressed together.

For someone who has been deemed too much to handle finding a man who seems to do it with ease is staggering. He loves your bossy, charismatic nature and your ideas about new things to try at the store. He listens intently when you rattle off obscure facts about your favorite books and movies. He sees your dreams of traveling, of being part of community here, as a complement, not a detriment to your professional career.

A voice startles you. “So when are you going to jump his bones?” Baekhyun is the kind of puppy dog, glowing cheeks, wide-eyed endearing drunk you wish you could hate.

He waggles his brows at you and you snort, shoving him away with your shoulder. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”

You weave your way around the perimeter of the dance floor, trying and failing to not fixate on Jongdae with every step.

“Come on. Admit it. You’ve got a thing for the DJ.” His mouth tugs into a smug grin and you groan. “And word on the street is he wants you too.”

“He’s my boss.” The last of your drink burns your throat and you belly up to the bar to order another. “Get real.”

Always a hoe for gossip, Baekhyun leans one elbow against the bar and drops his chin into his hand to watch you. Rather than speak and risk your wrath again he merely looks between you and Jongdae, waiting.

You pride yourself on not giving into temptation for all of ten seconds and then blurt out - “What are you doing?”

Baekhyun presses his lips together to suppress a grin. He raises a finger and holds it up. “You’ll see.”

The bartender is tied up with a group at the far end so you sigh and turn, resting your back against the bar top. With folded arms you observe the club. “We’re about to be abducted by aliens? Jongin’s going to breakdance? Minseok and Bookworm are -”

He clicks his tongue. “So impatient. You two really are a match made in heaven.”

“Me and Jongdae?” If you weren’t already buzzed you’d deny it more. But the permission to speak openly about your feelings for the DJ is too tempting. “You think so?”

Before he can tease you again a motion up ahead catches your focus. Jongdae looks up without tilting his head. His eyes cut to the left, to the two overflowing booths that are filled with the usual crew from the Exodus Mall. With amusement you follow his eye line as he scans the dance floor, looking for something. He never breaks the movement of his hands, spinning the vinyl and working the controls.

Finally his focus lands on you and Baekhyun at the bar. Jongdae’s eyes widen and that unreadable expression settles on his features, no emotion escaping. Your heart picks up, cheeks heating with awareness. There’s nothing to do but hold his gaze for long seconds while the club pulses with life around you. Isolated and together, even across the room.

And then Baekhyun ruins it.

With a comically large wave he smiles at Jongdae. The motion breaks Jongdae’s focus and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head at his friend’s ridiculousness. A smile tugs at his lips and he gives you a look of commiseration and you laugh, reaching over to ruffle Baekhyun’s blonde hair.

The song changes and Jongdae finally looks away. A second later the bartender appears, asking you for your next order. Baekhyun waits patiently beside you, arms folded against the bar, his smugness a tangible thing in the air between you two.

You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror behind the bar, visible between the clear shelves of liqueurs and syrups. Could he feel the same way? Does Jongdae imagine holding you, kissing you, being with you the same way you do with him in your unguarded moments?

The two of you already do so much together - work five days a week. Meals alone or with friends. Nights here, separate but still united in the bubble of the dance club. It strikes you just how thin the line is between friends and coworkers and … something more. A four-letter sinful word that starts with L and implies dangerous things like hands touching hands followed by lips and skin and teeth. A different four-letter word full of softness and commitment that has no place being in your mind at the same time as Jongdae’s name.

A hand rests gently on your shoulder. “I told you,” Baek says sincerely. He disappears after waggling his damned eyebrows one more time and leaves you at the bar, wondering.

Half of you wants to confess to him out of genuine affection and desire for connection; you can’t escape the way he makes you long to be reckless and daring and bold and romantic in the kind of grand gesture sense that you’d have rolled your eyes at before you met him. The delicate balance makes your palms sweat and your glass shake slightly as you raise it to your lips. From nerves or excitement or a mix of the two.

You could make the first move, but the logical half of your mind wins out. Instead you swallow your drink in three gulps and head over to the DJ booth to talk to him and nothing more. Close enough to be comforted by his nearness but keeping your desire closeted behind your fear. Tonight that’s all you can manage.

Passing by Yixing and Lavender dancing is a reminder of all the good love can bring. Yixing’s hands holding her close, her arms folded around his neck and their foreheads together. Intimate words are shared that aren’t meant for your ears, even if you could hear them over the sound of the music.

But just beyond is Baekhyun and Hitch. She laughs and dances out of his way as he tries to tickle her. They’re obviously in love to anyone who watches, so why haven’t they admitted it and had a go at being together? Maybe it’s for the best, you wonder. If trying and failing and ruining what you have it worse than never trying at all.

Before you can wander too far down the road of doubt and consequences you remember how it felt to have Jongdae’s hand on top of yours. The thought of tomorrow and the days after disappear altogether when you feel Jongdae’s eyes on you once more, drawing you closer to him, whether he knows his effect on you or not. When you reach the booth you decide to stop thinking in general, and let yourself feel instead.

Saturday night and he's in his element. In the booth, far away from the rest of the crowd but still a part of it. Adrenaline in his veins. Music is Jongdae’s therapy. An alter ego much like the comic book characters he read about growing up. It's the skin he can put on when he's tired of being himself. A place where he can set down the baggage of his identity for a night and get lost in the beats.

He closes his eyes, savoring the pattern of the vinyl beneath his fingertips.

Suddenly, he feels you. Of course you're here. He's never free from you, he thinks with a rueful smile. First you invaded this place, his escape and his temple. Then you wormed your way into his business as though you always belonged there. Now you're occupying his senses the way you occupy his thoughts at all hours.

For a beat he admires you, standing at the bar rolling your eyes while Baekhyun waves dramatically. He drinks you in with a last look at your fabulous legs before reluctantly turning back to switching out one album for the next. Lately you’ve taken to joining him for a bit while he spins and he hopes that once again you’ll come up to the booth tonight.

He's not a patient man, or a subtle one. If he wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone. Severed with the kind of brutal finality he showed to anyone from his time after M.I.T. There are no second chances as far as he's concerned. But still, you remain. Infuriating, exhilarating. Never far from his consciousness.

'You look like you're having a good time!'

Sooner than expected your voice breaks his trance and he lifts his eyes to look at you. His heart thumps painfully in his chest and he swallows harshly. He doesn't know how you do it - how you effortlessly change to match your surroundings.

One minute you're his office manager, polite and respectful and skilled. Already he sees the business taking shape, becoming more cohesive and smooth beneath your talented mind and heart. And your feisty insistence that he upgrade and finesse his marketing and finally finish putting together a website for Chen’s.

The next minute you're leaning over the edge of the booth, chest coming forward and revealing your neckline. The red is fitting on you. It brings out the natural flush in your cheeks and makes you look perpetually alive. He feels stagnant by comparison, a man of stone who remains unchanging while the world passes him by.

The tumble of hair across your shoulders and the delight in your eyes are so beautiful he wants to reach for you. To reach for more, be more than who he has been - afraid and alone. Bitterness lives in his heart, swatting away anyone who gets too close. But here you are, knocking once more on the door of his being.

He finds his voice, his hands thankfully moving on muscle memory as he drops in the next remix. 'It's good energy tonight,' he fumbles. 'I love this song.' You nod in agreement.

It’s easy, being with you. Together you talk about work and the music he plays and your group of friends. Chanyeol and Bijoux, who finally got together again after what seems like months of back and forth. Bets on how long Minseok will wait before he proposes to Bookworm, now that they’re an official item. Joking about Baekhyun and Hitch like always.

He shows off for you, just a little. Spins 'Scream' by Michael and Janet jackson with a bit more pizazz than usual. It strikes him as amusing how much he always hated being watched before this. Not that many people pay particular attention to him as a DJ, but he thinks he might like the way it feels to be watched by you.

He wants to watch you, too, for as long as you let him. He already can’t take his eyes off you. No matter how much that idea might terrify him. When he drops the next mix and the crowd cheers at ‘Tubthumping’ he gives you a rare broad smile and it's like being punched in the chest when you return it with an unexpectedly shy one of your own.

Jongdae almost invites you into the booth. He sees it as though it were one of the romantic comedies that are so popular right now. You would take your place in front of him. He'd get to rest his hand on top of yours, guiding your movements. Maybe as you got the hang of it he would slide them to hold your hips, keeping your back to his chest as his mouth finds your neck.

Liz invites you to dance and Jongdae wipes the probably awed look off his face with effort. He needs some cold water, immediately.

Friday September 19th

Jongdae is upset about something. It’s not so much that you now seem to be able to pick up his moods with ease, which is true, but the fact that he is nearly tearing his hair out. A piece of paper sits in front of him on the desk but it’s too far away for you to read.

By the time he groans for the fifth time you finally speak up. ‘Are you alright?’

His head jerks up and his eyes are tired when they meet yours. Not ‘it’s been a long week’ tired, but something sad in his expression that makes him look fragile and younger than his years.

For a moment he shakes his head. Then he picks up the paper and waves it in the air, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. The confusion on his normally self-assured face would be comical if it wasn’t such an obviously distressing situation. Finally he drops the paper and leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

‘I just got word that they’re demolishing the apartment building I live in. I have to move by November 1st.’

Instantly you want to hug him or hold his hand. ‘Your grandfather’s apartment?’

Jongdae nods. ‘They’re tearing it down so they can put in some luxury condos. Yet another classic neighborhood about to be wiped out in the name of progress.’ He sighs, looking at the ceiling to compose himself. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so-’

‘No, it’s -’ you start, unsure of your destination. ‘It’s an important place. And it’s your home. Don’t apologize for being pissed off about it.’

He nods, taken aback. ‘Exactly. It’s where I grew up. I’ve also never had to look for an apartment or move, either. So this will be dreadful.’

You bite the inside of your cheek. The offer to help practically leaps from your mouth and you hold it close for a moment, making sure you don’t rush into something that’s out of your depth. But as always your logic overrules your fear.

‘I could help, if you like?’ He’s just your boss slash co-worker. It’s innocent. It’s harmless, right? ‘I’ve moved so often with school and everything. I know my way around the city.’

In the ensuing pause Jongdae’s solemnity returns, his mouth and the lines of his face don’t give away any emotion. But, as always, he holds you in place with his expression. And his eyes have that fire within that he seems to only show to you. ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

You nod, case closed. Turning back to your computer you lie to yourself further, pretending not to notice how his voice lowered. As though he knew you weren’t just offering for help with his living situation. But something more raw and painful that he isn’t prepared to hold on his own just yet.

For how picky you thought you were about apartments, Jongdae has you beat by a mile. Student housing accustomed you to wonky flooring and cramped kitchens and the charming yet ancient windows on many older Seattle homes. But his grandfather’s gorgeous pre-war unit had made Jongdae’s tastes quite particular.

On Tuesdays and on weekends you pulled up listings and showed Jongdae around the city by way of it’s apartments, condos, and houses. He enjoyed the nature surrounding Greenlake, the affordable houses north of UW in Ravenna, and the vibe of Ballard and Fremont. But he ruled anything north of 520 out quickly as ‘too far from the store.’ The luxury of walking to work on nicer days was something he wasn’t willing to part with.

The same unfortunately ruled out a townhouse in Alki that you had salivated over, a block from the beach. Pioneer Square had some great lofts that would have been perfect for a music-lover like Jongdae, but he vetoed those as well. Along with all the trendy industrial lofts near the stadiums, claiming he hated all the construction going on nearby.

It should have been frustrating, to spend endless hours watching him nix perfectly wonderful places. In Queen Anne he hated the hills. Westlake he disliked the mall. Madrona, Leschi, Montlake, Magnolia, and Lake Union all came close but still he shook his head and said ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to landlord after landlord.

It should have driven you mad, but all it did was make you like him more.

Falling in love with Jongdae isn’t what you had planned. But from the first night you saw him at the club some part of you knew it was inevitable, the way the rain in autumn starts off as a light drizzle and before you know it becomes a torrential downpour, blanketing the city and saturating every exposed corner.

He always brought you coffee and insisted on buying breakfast or lunch. He always picked you up, right on time. Held doors and made sure he didn’t walk too fast and did the thing where his arm hovered over your back when the two of you were in crowded spaces. Not touching, but close enough you could feel him protecting you. On anyone else you would have absolutely hated that, but of course from him, you craved it.

Day after day you listened to music in his car as the two of you drove around little neighborhoods hoping to find something, complaining about how tight and ridiculous the parking situation always is. Joking about your friends or the news or the latest books you’re reading. They hardly felt like dates. No, they felt like something even more insidious. Like being in a relationship with him. Easy and warm and friendly and the kind of thing you could get used to.

But eventually it had to end, before it seemed like either of you were ready.

On a surprisingly warm Tuesday in October the two of you walk into a place that no one could object to. The building is in south Capitol Hill, close to Cal Anderson and only a fifteen or twenty minute walk from the mall. It’s designed in the classic Victorian style of the neighborhood, but was completed just three years ago. Small pane windows and a fireplace with a carved mantle and dark spires on the roof, all with brand new insulation and appliances.

Sunlight floods the corner unit on the top floor and you gasped as soon as the door opened. Jongdae stands beside you as the landlord goes over the details of the square footage and the building amenities, but neither of you are listening anymore.

‘What do you think?’ he asks softly. The five-story building sits on a slight hill and overlooks the rest of downtown, with a partial water view around the tall downtown skyscrapers.

‘I think it’s as close to perfect as you’re going to get.’

He moves closer and rests his palms on the window sill, looking around for a moment before turning his head to watch you. ‘Good.’

After a long pause Jongdae pushes off the windows and politely interrupts the landlord, who is currently opening every single cabinet in the kitchen and giving a detailed run down of his wife’s favorite tupperware, asking about the deposit. The way he phrased it along with the attentive way he waited for your approval makes you wonder if he wasn’t just picking this apartment for himself.

Imagining yourself there scares you. If he was seeking your opinion… surely he would be hoping you’d come over? Neither of you have spoken a word about the bizarre yet undeniable attraction you have, but that hardly forms the basis of a relationship. A boyfriend who wanted to be sure you liked his new place would be one thing, but your friend and co-worker who has never admitted to even liking you is quite another.

You lean against the edge of the window and run a finger along the ledge. A small part of you whispers that you’re supposed to be doing something else, eventually. You won’t work at Chen’s forever, but it wasn’t meant to be this hard to leave. It’s just a stop on the way to your final destination. So why do you want to get off the train altogether and make a home here?

Would it be so terrible, to be with him? It’s been a fantasy for so long that imagining real life with him makes you suck in a breath as though you’ve been punched in the gut. It could be a fresh start for you both. The end of one adventure and the beginning of a new one. You remind yourself that being in love doesn’t mean you can’t travel or change the world. Being with Jongdae would hopefully only encourage your dreams, not stifle them.

As they discuss deposit and applications and timelines for moving into the apartment you wander into the other rooms.

The bathroom has a large tub and dual sinks. You can only imagine what your expression must be like right now, given your swirling emotions, and avoid the mirror altogether. The second bedroom is more like a cozy office, narrow enough for a desk and a couch and perhaps some bookshelves. In the bedroom you hesitate at the doorway, reaching up to play with the pendant of your necklace.

Windows run along both sides, meeting in a corner. You think of plants lining the wide ledges and going to sleep with the setting westward sun and how short of a walk it would be to get breakfast from your favorite bagel shop that’s just a block away. It’s close to the mall and the club. It’s truly perfect.

As you watch cars pass and people walk by down below you space out, the image blurring and becoming Jongdae on a bed in this room, leaning back against the pillows with a book in his lap. Smiling at you and pulling you close since he knows you refuse to get up earlier than you have to on your days off.

Inexplicably you want to cry and you huff out a laugh, squeezing your eyes tightly only to find that they’re damp. It’s not anger that the vision inspires in you or even sadness. It’s frustration and amusement that war inside you as you think about how you fell in love with him without your consent. Rational thinking should have stopped this long ago, but all you can think as you stand there is how nice it is to be with him. And how you wouldn’t mind being with him for a long while.

The only thing that helps ease the tension in your chest is how he looks at you on the drive back to your place. You fill the time with discussions of moving trucks and hiring a company to help with the heavy lifting, but you’re both clearly distracted by other thoughts. He pulls his car up to your apartment and you try to avoid looking at him as you say goodbye, but he briefly rests his hand on your knee to get your attention.

Your hand stops in its motion to grab your bag and ends up nearly on top of his, but you make no movement to break the contact. ‘Thank you,’ he says softly. ‘I mean it.’ Jongdae turns his hand and holds yours, giving it a quick squeeze and looking like he never wants to let go.

October 12th, 1997

You’re eating cheesy bread at Barada with Hitch, but today she’s different - evasive and nervous in a strange way. 'So I - uhh. I have news,' she finally says. She sips her drink and looks at the table rather than at you. 'I don't know if I should tell you though.'

Pausing in your chewing you raise a brow. 'You can tell me anything, you know that.'

She awkwardly runs a hand along her neck. 'No I know. I just -' she huffs out a breath and blows her hair off her forehead..

'You and Baekhyun finally had sex and you're pregnant?' You smirk at her as she chokes on her soda. 'Come on, just spit it out.'

She waves and hand and very quickly says - 'There's a project manager position open in the gaming division. Some new big thing and they're looking for an upstart to head up operations.'

You frown and tear off another slide of bread, not understanding her odd behavior at all. 'Okay… and you're thinking what, thinking of applying?'

'No, you dork. I'm thinking you should apply.' She tilts her head like she assumed your reaction would be more immediate. 'You wanted me to keep an eye out for you, right? I didn't want to say anything since - '

'Since?' you ask, both afraid of what she'll say and dying to know. Terrified it will have to do with Jongdae and the swirling mess of feelings you have for him.

It’s her turn to be wry. 'Since you and Jongdae have been attached at the hip.'

'Really?' You stall, taking an enormous bite.

Hitch tosses a balled-up napkin at you. 'Yes. When I met you in college I thought 'there goes the most intense person I've ever met.’ And then I met Jongdae after he opened Chen’s and he gave you a run for your money.' She dusts off her hands. 'You both could be making millions someday. Taking over countries or saving the world or something. We all know it. I don't know, I didn’t want to mention this because together you guys seem happier. Softer? Something like that..'

'And you think me getting a job there would ruin that?' Her words mirror your fears exactly and your stomach drops.

'It's taken me years to get Jongdae to even look at me after I told him where I worked. He hates Microsoft. With good reason, from what you've implied. I'm sure you could make it work, but trust me when I say if you get swept up into that upper management spiral, we probably won't see you again.'

'I won't completely abandon you guys just because I get a new job.' But doubt whispers in your mind. The long hours and the endless meetings and the extra work to always be the best, to always be ahead. 'Okay fine, I see your point. I still have to try, right? I should at least apply.'

She rests her hand over yours where you have your napkin in a death grip on the table. 'You don't have to do anything, babe. We'll always be here for you even if you become a tech mogul overnight. But will it make you happy? Whatever comes next... do it for yourself, okay? Not just cause you think you should.'

You smile and hold her hand for a moment, wrinkling your nose. 'Thank you, Hitch. I needed that. What about you? You said you were going to apply for that transfer to the NYC office, are you still considering it?'

She blows out a deep breath and pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to it for a moment. 'God, I don't know. My whole life is here. And I'd have to leave the theater.' She rests her chin on her palm and looks up at you with a dramatic frown. 'My friends are all here. My family. I love where I'm at, but I know that something eventually has to change.'

'Baekhyun?' You grin at her, wondering if the move might finally force them to admit their feelings.

Hitch straightens and looks across the food court to the movie theater. 'Yeah, something like that.' She gives you a dramatic waggle of her brow. 'Jongdae?'

You groan and fold your arms, sinking lower into your seat. Even your roommates ask about him now. Everyone can surely see how you light up around him. The way you gravitate towards the DJ booth on club nights like a moth to a flame. The way you draw him into conversations and brag about him. It should be forbidden territory, as untouchable and unreadable as he is. Not to mention he's your boss.

But worst of all he still hasn't said anything about it, nothing more than the occasional flirtatious comment or lingering look. Even after all your time together and the way he looked at you in the new apartment. For all you know he sees you as a very stubborn employee who happens to force your way into things.

You cover your face with your hands and sigh. 'Something like that.'

Hitchcock stands and takes your shared tray of dishes to the bus station with a throaty laugh. 'That's what I thought.'

November 1st, 1997

Jongdae is frantically packing up more of his bookshelf when the doorbell rings. He smiles on instinct. It's not something he can help anymore, not when he knows it's you on the other side. Right at nine in the morning, just when you promised the movers would be here. With a last look around his living room at the organized chaos he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and stands.

It surprised him how quickly you agreed to help with - well, everything, really.

When he told you about his move he didn’t expect anything would come of it. It's his problem, not yours. He didn't imagine for a moment you'd give the announcement more attention than a sympathetic word or two. But you stepped to his side. Put up with his grouchy persistence in believing that there's no place in the world, let alone in Seattle, that would be as amazing as this apartment. As it always seems with you, he found himself proven wrong.

You didn't let him wallow and guided him with your decisiveness through the checklist of everything he'd need to do. A few months ago he would have waved you off. Decided you were being bossy or nosy and turned down the help with a cold shoulder. 

But now he wants you around for everything and the thought makes him pause with his hand on the doorknob.

He made sure you like his new apartment too because - when he isn't expecting it he imagines you there. Not just as his co-worker or employee or even as his friend. As someone more permanent. Lasting. It's not that he needs you to run his life for him, he's perfectly capable of doing things on his own. It's just that he loves how you barge your way into his world and refuse to let him be alone.

Jongdae doesn't know how yet, but he wants to show you how he feels in return. It's like trying to run with a blindfold on, but he desperately hopes that he can figure out how to care about you in the way you deserve. Bringing you coffee and asking about your day and giving you all the freedom you want at work are a start, but they barely scratch the surface of how much he feels for you.

He's got one idea. A big one. An insane one, that you'll probably call him nuts for suggesting. If he ever gets up the nerve someday.

The buzzer sounds again and he shakes himself out of it. Finally he pulls it open and is greeted by your smiling face in the morning gray light. Hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a long black shirt and faded overalls. He leans against the doorframe, wondering if he's ever seen anything more beautiful than you on his doorstep.

'So, I have a surprise,' you start. With a free hand you nervously brush your hair behind your ear. It's so unlike you that he immediately wonders if something is wrong.

'What is it?'

Before you can answer, noise in the parking lot draws his focus. His front door faces the open-air walkway that leads to the stairs down to the parking lot. He expected a moving truck and several buff men in logoed shirts. Instead it's a scrappy group of your friends - his friends now, he supposes - looking tired but ready to help.

Junmyeon and Jane drink coffee and pull furniture dollys and heavy blankets out of a Uhaul truck. Liz and Jongin are leaning against the cab of Sehun's car and laugh at him as he and Yixing sleep peacefully in the backseat. Chanyeol and his girlfriend are paused on the landing below making out, a tape gun in each of their hands. Another car catches a break in the flow of traffic and pulls into one of the guest spaces. Minseok and Bookworm step out and yawn, tying sweatshirts around their waists.

Jongdae repeats his question. Or at least he tries to, but emotion catches his throat and all he can do is stare at you with a mix of surprise and what he's sure is a very naked expression of affection.

'How did you do this?' he asks when he can finally breathe again.

You tilt your head and grin at him, pride making you radiant even in the dull mist of the morning. 'Is this okay?' For a moment you look worried, tucking your hands in the pockets of your overalls and taking a step back.

'I know I said I'd hire the movers, but I thought this might be better? I didn't think everyone would be here, especially after the Halloween party last night. Soo and Sunshine are working, but I think - wait,' you turn and yell down to the group in the lot. 'Has anyone heard from Baek and Hitch?'

Chanyeol reluctantly pulls away from his girlfriend and replies. 'Yeah, he messaged me at the ass-crack of dawn. He said he and Hitch are fine, but they won't be able to make it until later.'

With a curious look you thank Chanyeol and turn back to Jongdae. 'Okay, so almost everyone came.'

'It's because you're incredible,' he agrees, heart warm and in awe of you. Stepping back, he shoves the door stop in with his foot to prop it open and gestures for you to come in.

He doesn't get two steps before your hand finds his bicep, stopping him. 'No, I'm just absolutely amazing at organizing things,' you laugh. ‘But they didn't just come for me Jongdae, they came because they're your friends. They wanted to help.'

The intensity in your voice makes him pause. Like you're trying to say far more than your words. He gets lost for a moment in your beautiful eyes and swallows harshly. His past, the negative parts, haven't come up much - his failed first business, the trail of broken friendships he's left behind him, the ensuing guard he's had up since - but you've paid far more attention than he realized.

He doesn't miss the meaning behind your words, or the look in your eyes; what you're asking of him. To trust you, to trust them. To release his death grip on the walls he keeps up to protect himself. But no matter how determined you are he knows he has to be the one to dismantle them. His heart is nervous and he instead focuses on your hand on his arm.

For a beat he wants to kiss you, then and there with almost all of his and your friends just outside. Instead he lets his actions speak when his mouth isn't able to and pulls you into a hug. You freeze for a moment, stiff with surprise. But after a moment it melts away and you hold him back, wrapping your arms around his waist. His head spins when you rest your forehead against his shoulder, unable to process the fact that you’re in his arms in reality, not just his dreams.

'You're the most amazing person,' he murmurs against your hair.

The sound of loud voices and thumping of boots on stairs make him pull back. You give him another smile, warmer and softer this time. Something that's private for him only. 'I know.'

He barks out a laugh as Sehun and Jongin come in through the doorway. 'Let's do this!' Sehun calls, clapping his hands together.

'We promise we won't steal anything,' Jongin jokes, looking around Jongdae's place with obvious fascination.

Bijoux organizes the packing party while Chanyeol grabs Jongdae's keys so he and Sehun can take the first load of boxes over to the new place while Junmyeon, Jongin, and Jongdae load up the bigger furniture pieces into the Uhaul. Jongdae lets out a rusty laugh as Junmyeon dubs them ‘the J squad.’ You work around them, collecting all the random trinkets and knicknacks that have escaped other boxes.

He closed Chen’s today to hopefully knock this entire project out in one swoop. Ripping it off like a Bandaid. After the first big load everyone splits up into teams. Sehun and Yixing pack and load the rest of the boxes and smaller items into the cars. Jongin, who is absolutely not trusted around breakable items, goes with Junmyeon to return the Uhaul to the rental shop and pick up lunch and drinks for everyone with the cash Jongdae insisted they take. 

And Minseok leads everyone else on a cleaning checklist he’s created with military precision. It's been so long Jongdae doesn't even know if he has a damage deposit. His grandfather took excellent care of the place and he kept it up in his absence, so he hopes it's not too much work to tidy.

Yixing’s boombox keeps up a steady flow of music throughout the morning and lunch time. With everyone’s help, and of course with the added fuel from the pizza and beverages, things are just wrapping up at the old place. You stay behind with Jongdae to take a last look around and turn in the keys, forcing him to take a few photos in the space to remember it.

‘This is it, I guess,’ he says, holding out the key and laying it on the kitchen counter with a small metallic sound.

‘How do you feel?’ You lean your hip against the fridge and drink from a water bottle.

Sunset over Lake Union is his favorite time of day and it’s hard to stand the thought of missing out on a last one. It’s barely two in the afternoon and it’s hours until golden hour. Rather than lie he simply says the truth. ‘I wish I could see the sun go down one last time.’

You come and stand next to him, close enough he can smell the light scent of your perfume and see the flush of your chest from the day’s exertion. ‘We can wait.’

He thinks of everyone at his new place, unloading boxes. ‘But everyone-’

‘Jongdae,’ you start. ‘They’ll be fine. You know Sehun has probably fallen asleep on your couch already. Baek and Hitch and the openers from Barada will be heading over soon. Some people have to head out for closing shifts but it’s already been decided that we’re doing movie night and Chinese take out tonight at your new place.’

‘Oh really?’ He presses his lips together to try not to laugh.

‘I don’t think you have much of a choice,’ you tease. ‘Trust me, they’ll be fine for another few hours.’

‘Alright then,’ he says after a pause.

The two of you sit on the bare hardwood floors and talk until the sun finally sets, just before five pm. He doesn’t yell his feelings for you at full volume like he wishes he could. He doesn’t dance with you or kiss you slowly in the empty apartment, there’s far too many emotions in his heart today to try and cope with more. But after he locks up and leaves the keys behind he does take your hand to help you into the car. And he does hold it for far longer than necessary before pulling back to shut the door. 

It’s not much, but like his new apartment it’s the start of something.

November 3rd, 1997

You’ve got to tell Jongdae now, but nerves eat away at you and your resolve lessens minute by minute. Since the move he’s been warmer, more open, and you don’t want to ruin that. But you can’t keep this from him any longer.

Applying at Microsoft was supposed to be a long shot, a shot in the dark, or some other kind of shot that never meant to lead anywhere. But still it’s one you took and one that ended up paying off way faster and more successfully than you’d planned. After two interviews last week you sit with a job offer on your answering machine back home and a choice to make.

They need your decision by tomorrow and as Monday winds into early afternoon your deadline approaches. You bite your lip and vacillate wildly between thoughts. On the one hand this could be a good thing - if you’re no longer working at the same place, there’s nothing stopping the two of you from being together, right?

But what if Jongdae can’t see past his hurt and freaks out, assuming you’re leaving him like everyone else has? Or worse, what if he never cared about you that way at all?

Your stomach drops at the thought of walking out of here into your dream job, but feeling empty, leaving behind someone who has come to mean so much to you.

Your roommates Liz and Jane, Hitch, hell even Baekhyun weaseled the truth out of you at Shari’s on Saturday. Stone cold sober and still you let out everything to him sitting in your group’s favorite booth. About how you might in fact love Jongdae and how badly you want this opportunity, how utterly terrifying and exhilarating change can be simultaneously.

None of them told you to choose one way or the other. They didn’t say ‘take the job’ or ‘turn down the job,’ they all said that the decision is one only you can make and that they’d support you no matter what you picked. And maybe each time you cried a little and all of them were good enough friends to just hug you and not mention it.

But all of them told you one thing that now sits lodged in your throat. Whatever else happens, you both deserve to know. Jongdae deserves the truth about what you’re considering, and you deserve to finally know once and for all how he feels about you and what he wants.

After he locks the doors and starts cleaning up, you rise, holding your hands behind your back so tightly your knuckles are most assuredly white. ‘Hey, can we talk for a minute?’

Jongdae nods. ‘Of course. I’ve got something I wanted to discuss with you as well, actually. But you go first.’ He folds his arms and leans against his desk, giving you that affectionate close-lipped smile of his. You desperately hope what you’re about to say doesn’t wipe it off his face.

Not one to beat around the bush you dive in. ‘I applied for another job.’ The words sound blunt and harsh. You swallow and try again, hating how his brow furrows in confusion. ‘Not because I don’t like it here. But Hitch told me about an opening and it sounded - sounds perfect for what I want to do in the long run. It’s on the new gaming system division… at Microsoft.’

He doesn’t say anything for a long pause. Instead of meeting your eyes his have dropped to the ground and you wish you could reach out and touch him. Anything to make sure he hears you, understands you. But a whisper of fear makes you keep quiet, worrying the connection you had wasn’t meant to last, if something so trivial could break it.

‘I thought you were happy here,’ he says finally.

You hold your hands out in front of you, palms up in a gesture of entreaty. ‘I do, Jongdae. It’s not that at all. I thought this might - be good for us. If we’re not working together, then -’

When he finally looks up his gaze is distant, his mouth a thin line. The shutters have fallen over his face. ‘By going to work at the one place I despise?’

Anger makes your skin hot and you fold your arms as well, in defiance. ‘But you talk to Hitch and Baekhyun? They haven’t turned into the devil incarnate yet.’

He gives a quick, harsh shrug. ‘I like them both, sure. But being friends is one thing. This is quite another.’

It’s almost a declaration, yet so far from how you dreamed this moment might go. ‘What are you saying, Jongdae?’ You need to hear it. After so many weeks of trying you need him to at least do you the courtesy of speaking it out loud.

‘You know how I feel about you.’ There’s hope in his eyes. But it’s so buried amongst hurt and suspicion it’s not even close to reassuring. ‘I want you to stay. Here.’ With me, he doesn’t say, but you feel it.

Nothing drives you more up the wall than being told what to do. His words fall against your own shield and the plea within goes unnoticed. ‘Would you really shut me off if I took this job? Does hating them mean more than wanting what’s best for me?’ You finally step forward, reaching a hand for his arm.

‘I’ve supported you in everything,’ you start, unable to stop now that you’ve started. ‘In finding community here. In your move. Even in the business, who was the one who pushed you to keep growing? I don’t intend to stop being there for you, but I need you to support me in this. Please.’

He just watches you, not saying a word. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. People outside the glass doors go about their day, shopping or getting an early dinner, unaware of the standoff taking place merely feet from them. You wonder what it would take to make his guard truly ever come down.

With how quickly it snapped back into place you feel tired all the way down to your bones. Maybe it will never be enough, even if you did stay here forever.

‘I’ll pay out your PTO in these next two weeks,’ he says softly. ‘No need to come back into the office. If that works for you?’ His last statement is thrown on as a hasty addendum. Like he’d realized how harsh it sounded and he wanted to dull the sting. It’s a sliver of kindness, a glimpse at the man he almost allowed himself to be. But it’s not enough.

‘Fine with me.’ You move past him, into the supply room to grab your purse and jacket, proud of the way your voice doesn’t waver. Pausing in the hallway you turn to look back at him, still frozen against his desk. ‘I’m leaving this job, I’m not leaving you.’

He turns to look at you, running a hand through his hair and messing up the ends. ‘It will go the same way, I know it. In the end you’ll disappear too.’

‘Jongdae, I’m trying. I need you to at least meet me halfway.’

You don’t wait for his reply, if one was ever even going to come. Instead you continue down the small hallway and push out the back door into the mall. It’s only once you’re in your car that you remember he mentioned something he wanted to discuss. You wonder what it was, and if you’ll ever find out.

Jongdae stares after you for long seconds after you’re gone. He doesn’t hold out hope that you’ll come back, not after the way he treated you. Instead he feels stuck in place, like if he holds his breath and doesn’t exhale then the last five minutes didn’t happen.

But his lungs burn and his chest aches, and when he finally sighs it comes out ragged. He fumbles for the switch and the store descends into darkness. Shafts of light still come through, angled in from the glass ceiling of the mall’s concourse. Jongdae stands just outside of it, protected. With no one to see he sinks into his desk chair and drops his head into his hands.

The tears that clog his throat are at first unexpected, but as the minutes drag on he finally gives into them. He should have known they were coming all along. Not just from the moment you walked into his life, but from the day his grandfather died. From the day his father passed and his mother became a ghost rather than a permanent, tangible figure. 

From the day Julian took Jongdae’s designs and credited them as his own to the investors, cutting Jongdae out of not only the business they were building, but out of their group of friends as well.

Misery and hopelessness whisper against his skin and for long minutes he lets himself wallow. He knows it’s no one’s fault but his own that he ruined things with you. His grandfather taught him long ago that other’s actions are theirs, and that it’s what Jongdae does in response that is his responsibility. But he can’t deny that he indulges in thoughts of blaming the cruelty of life for making him so goddamn stubborn.

He swallows and leans back in his chair, feeling as though his body is made of hard, unyielding stone. Maybe it's better this way, he wonders, drumming his fingers on the wood desk before him. Perhaps he should let his worst fears dominate his life, believing that the risk is far greater than any potential reward that love or friendship could offer him.

Is it better to be alone, knowing that he’ll always be safe, free of anyone who might hurt him?

Jongdae groans. The voice inside him that whispers No sounds first like his grandfather, both encouraging and feisty at the thought of Jongdae giving up. Next it sounds like you. He knows you’d roll your eyes and call him grouchy, always thinking better of him than he does of himself. You’d tell him his bark is far worse than his bite and to get over himself already. At this thought, at any thought of you, really, he smiles.

Familiar voices make him look out into the mall. Sehun and Jongin walk by carrying sodas, rubbing their stomachs. He can imagine how they’re complaining about eating too much Barada pizza, as always. 

They pass by quickly but the image stays with him, of their friendship. Jongdae thinks of Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s, how opposite and yet how similar they are. Baekhyun and Hitch, who are always teasing each other but who he knows would do anything at the drop of a hat.

He’s held himself back the past few months. First a reluctant observer. Then a tentative participant. The endless exhaustion of being careful, keeping his distance, catches up to Jongdae as he sits in that chair. If it weren’t for you maybe he’d never be brave enough to try again after how hard it was growing up. But if he is to be the kind of person, the kind of partner you deserve, now is the time to make the attempt.

It’s up to Jongdae to be the one to try, to reach out. He can’t let others find him anymore. For the first time in a long time Jongdae stands up and goes looking for a friend.

Junmyeon still has an hour before his store closes and he looks up at Jongdae as he walks in through the door of Guardians. ‘Hey, JD! How’s it going?’ If he notices that Jongdae’s been crying, he’s kind enough to not mention it.

‘Are you busy?’ Jongdae’s throat is raw but Jun has a young son, surely tears won’t bother him.

‘Not really, I’m just organizing some shipments going out tomorrow,’ Junmyeon answers. He sets down his pencil and rests his hands on the counter. A crease forms between his brows the longer he watches Jongdae. ‘Is everything alright?’

He wants to do this right, but all he can find are inelegant words. Junmyeon is as close as he has to a best friend at the moment, and he hopes he doesn’t inconvenience him. ‘Not really.’

Jun tilts his head and gestures to the door, picking up Jongdae’s unspoken request and running with it, just like he’d hoped he would. ‘I can close up shop a bit early. Want to talk in my office?’

Jongdae runs a hand over his face and nods. Grateful and relieved he manages a small laugh. ‘That would be great, thanks.’

After Jun locks the doors and flips the sign to closed he motions for Jongdae to follow him. The back room of Guardians is much warmer that at Chen’s Electronics, in style rather than temperature. Jongdae sits on a beige sofa that’s even more comfortable than it looks. The walls are filled with framed photos and art prints and various other pieces that give the space an art gallery vibe.

With a sigh Junmyeon tidies up the mess of papers and crayons and various cups with kid lids. ‘Sorry, Sungmin loves to draw but we haven’t quite nailed the clean up yet.’

‘Don’t worry about it on my behalf,’ Jongdae says sincerely. ‘I’m just grateful you’re willing to listen.’

The space has a narrow hallway leading to a back door and a closet that’s probably full of supplies, much like Jongdae’s store. Jun takes the cups to a small sink in the mini-kitchen in the corner. His brow lifts in confusion. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?’

Could it be that simple? No need to prove himself or do everything possible to impress Junmyeon, like he did with Julian. ‘Yeah, we are I suppose.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to imply I don’t consider us friends, I just - well, have a few trust issues when it comes to that sort of thing.’

Junmyeon dries his hands on a dishtowel and blows his hair off his forehead with a huffed laugh. ‘We’ve all got a few issues, don’t we?’ He moves to the table and takes a seat, sliding a glass of water towards Jongdae and sipping from one of his own. ‘I’ve got the time. So quit stalling and tell me about yours.’

He sags into the couch and drinks from the glass. ‘Alright then.’

For once he doesn’t second guess himself or try to read the minutiae of Jun’s expressions to see if he’s annoying him or being too boring. Jongdae simply tells him the truth, trusting his friend to listen. 

He mentions his family and how hard it hit him when his grandfather passed. How strange and yet unbothered he is by the lack of relationship with his mother. The way he was teased growing up and how he was probably the only person in his Master’s program going through puberty. The fact that the mall is the first place he’s ever had friends his own age since childhood.

It’s satisfying to see how pissed off Jun gets when he tells him about Julian and all the bullshit he put Jongdae through. For a while there Jongdae had convinced himself that he was the one in the wrong, that there’d been something he’d done to earn his exile. That it was a deserved punishment. But his friend’s muttered curses remind him that true friends don’t normally backstab each other for money and notoriety.

And finally, he talks of you.

How much he values you at work and how sassy and insistent you were about bringing him into ‘the fold’ of their friend group. The ways in which he wants to be with you and care for you and all his worries of whether or not he’ll be any good at it, given his lack of experience. Junmyeon is neither surprised by his feelings for you nor willing to let him wallow.

‘I even brought prom tickets,’ Jongdae finishes with a groan. He pulls them from the pocket of his jeans and lets his arm fall to the couch cushion. ‘Me. At a prom.’ He almost snorts.

But Junmyeon just purses his lips. ‘Is that really such a stretch?’

Jongdae hums a noise of contemplation. ‘No. I guess not. All our friends are doing it.’ But before Jun can continue he shakes his head. ‘But I’ve messed this all up, so it doesn’t matter either way.’

Loneliness aches in his bones, his hands tired of not holding yours. Wishing he was enough, somehow, to keep you here and keep you warm; enough to make you stay, to make you happy.

Junmyeon raises a brow. ‘I think you’re missing the point entirely my friend. She told you what she needs. All you have to do is listen. She’s asking you to trust her. This job is something she’s worked for and she’s not leaving you for it. She’s just leaving the job. If you want to know you have to ask.’

He sighs deeply. ‘You’re right. But what if it all goes wrong? What if I try and it’s all for nothing in the end?’

Jun dips his chin to his chest, looking at the ground lost in thought. ‘That’s fair. I know a little of that myself, Jongdae. But all you can do is try. There’s sadly no guarantees here. I think you want to make it work and from what I know of her, she wants you as well. It’s time to make the big gesture. Or any kind of gesture, really.’

He groans and smiles, knowing his friend’s fondness for ‘I think you’re right.’ He even has an idea, two in fact. One that’s lived in the back of his mind for weeks and one that’s brewing right now. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Absolutely my friend.’ Jun claps him on the shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

November 19th, 1997

It should have been wonderful news to you that it was a clean break at least. No mess, just walking out the door and leaving behind the man and the job in one fell swoop. But of course, it wasn’t.

Microsoft was delighted when you told them you could start ASAP, but honestly you did it to jump into work rather than spend your time missing Jongdae. Filling your schedule proves to be the easiest way to avoid thinking about what hurts. You still had your roommates and Hitch and everyone else to hang out with, even if you weren’t ready for any Saturday pizza lunches or Shari’s nights quite yet. Both brought you far too close to him to bear right now.

Liz and Jane and Hitch are wonderful and you’ve had not one but two sleepovers since ‘the Jongdae incident.’ If not for their friendship and constant presence you’re sure you would have walled up the hurt and hid it away, not one to normally speak about your pain openly. Not while it’s so fresh. 

Distantly you hope that Jongdae is okay and that he has someone to talk to. If he’s even hurting. 

For all you know he’s completely fine and unaffected by the entire thing. Maybe he’s already found a new office manager and has forgotten about you. But those are the kind of rude and painful thoughts that only come to you at three in the morning when you can’t sleep, when dreams of his hands and his voice and his smile keep you up.

Jongdae calls one Tuesday to ask you to swing by Chen’s to pick something up the next day and you’re suspicious. He wouldn’t say any more, just ‘please come by at six. I have something to give you and I’d like it to be in person.’

You put on your favorite black dress and blazer that make you feel both sexy and confident and head to the mall. If he’s just calling you to twist the knife in deeper, you’ve already decided to leave and not bother letting him hurt you more. But if he’s calling to reconcile… you shake your head, not willing to get your hopes up. Instead you park in your old space and fix your make up in the rearview mirror.

It delights you to see that your old desk is returned to its former state. Just the computer, keyboard, and mouse remain. No one’s personal possessions have taken over the space like yours used to. It shouldn’t make you so happy to see he hasn’t replaced you, but it does.

Jongdae sits at his desk. His hair is in its usual perfect wave but his white button down and slacks have been swapped today for a dark green sweater and tan chinos. He looks ridiculously handsome and you grit your teeth, wishing you could turn off your attraction to him with a switch inside your brain.

He looks up at your knock on the glass door. For a moment he simply stands, drinking you in. Then he moves, walking closer to unlock the door and let you in. 

‘Hi. How are you?’

You blink and try not to laugh. ‘How am I? Jongdae, how do you think I am?’

‘Right, sorry.’ He shakes his head. Carefully he looks you up and down, not bothering to hide his own attraction to you in his hungry gaze. With a swallow he remembers himself and grabs a cardboard banker’s box from in front of his desk. ‘Here. I didn’t want to come by and drop it off. It felt wrong.’

The box holds all the random photos and personal belongings you’d left in your desk, in your haste to leave. Postcards from Amsterdam and family photos and lotions and your favorite scarf you’d been missing. He steps back, resting against the corner of his desk and folding his arms. When you take it he doesn’t say anything, which is not what you’d hoped by any means, but silence is definitely less painful than you’d feared.

‘Well, it’s been an adventure,’ you manage. You lean against your desk and move the box under one arm, holding out a hand to him to shake. Ready to be done with this officially.

He doesn’t move. You can feel words held on the tip of his tongue. Months and months later you know how to read his tells. The tightness in his jaw and the widening of his eyes and how his hand grips the fabric of his sweater. But seconds tick on and still he says nothing. 

He should speak or you should leave. One of you should do something. Instead you’re frozen in time. Eventually your arm aches and you set the box down beside you. You could go first, but pride demands he be the one to confess, if there’s going to be any confessions tonight.

Neither of you caves; twin pillars of resolution, stubbornness, and desire. It’s a game the two of you could play for hours. The tension in the air pulls tighter than a violin. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, unabashedly. His lids grow heavy as he breathes deeply, close enough to smell your gardenia perfume, but just out of reach of being able to touch you.

So this is what it feels like to meet my match, you think, finally acknowledging just how deeply you want him. Enough nights had been spent imagining kissing him, being with him in far more intimate ways than just a holding of hands or a hug. You want more, but only if he wants you, too.

You'd always been told that you were too driven, too smart, too self-sufficient to attract a man. Even in your MBA program where ambition and intelligence were supposedly rewarded, it apparently made you too something to find a good man to date.

But now there’s one right in front of you, looking at you as if you’re the answer to Fermat’s Enigma; a rare and priceless gem he’d been hunting for all his life. But he doesn’t look at you as if you’re art to be admired, a prize to be won. The guard lifts steadily and when he looks at you now it’s as if you’re the kind of miracle he wants to sink his teeth, his tongue, and his fingers into.

Your cheeks grow warm and you’re sure you look just as amazed and turned on as he does. If you had to guess, you’d bet that the number of people who challenge him these days are few, and the number of people who attempt to see the man behind the curtain even fewer.

While everyone else in the world might just see a monolith of a man, a genius, a hardworking and brilliant anomaly, you see the passionate, warm heart that beats in his chest. You know that the tin man really does have feelings and needs, and your heart almost breaks when you realize he’s been searching for you just as fervently as you’ve been searching for someone like him.

The silence in the room is almost too fragile a thing to break. On one side of the moment is a spark of something, a chance to see if this connection is real and deep, or if this is just chemistry and biology combining into lust. If your mind has taken the small gestures of passion and kindness and friendship from him and built it up to be something more than the sum of its parts.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he breathes, voice catching in his throat. Releasing his folded arms he rests his palms on the edges of the desk.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ you admit. Your hands curl in on themselves, trying to fight the way emotion and physical longing make it difficult to be in such a close proximity to him.

‘Okay, then.’ He breaks first, moving with purpose and striding to you in two steps, sliding his hands along your jaw with such softness that you gasp. 

And then, finally, you feel his lips on yours. You grasp his hips, hands freed and aching to touch him, to feel his hard body press against yours with surprising heat.

You meet him with equal passion, working your lips against his steady assault on your composure. For a solid minute you’re in awe that you could feel this much, that his lips and his hands could undo you so rapidly. That they could rebuild you into someone who belongs to him in such a short space of time, after weeks of endless doubt.

He groans against your lips in what feels like similar shock and surrender. Who would have thought that he would cave to your touch just as you did to his? How could someone so grumpy and strong-willed also be so open and vulnerable to this tentative thing between you.

But as he drops a hand and brings it to rest securely on the small of your back you realize there’s a name for this feeling.

You could call it fate. You could call it destiny. You could call it that damned four-letter word or you could call it Darwinism for all you care as his teeth bite gently into your lower lip.

You just know that nothing has ever felt as good and right as his hands claiming you for his own and the smell and heat of him wrapping themselves around you and burrowing their way into your heart.

A whine works its way from your throat as he licks along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. When you open your mouth to him, his tongue slides along your own and you almost lose your balance. With a giggle you could swear you’ve never made before in your life you let him guide you up onto the desk.

He steps between your legs instantly, gripping your hips and continuing his tasting of you. Heat and electricity race down your spine as you fist your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you until there’s no separation.

Banging on the glass doors and whistles come from out in the mall and you freeze. Instead of jerking back in shock and alarm like you’d expect him to, Jongdae confounds you once again. He pulls back slowly, opening his eyes and lifting his hands to gently cup your face. It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes but in less than the time it takes to watch one episode of Friends he’s turned your world on its axis.

You and Jongdae smile at each other and both turn to wave at your group of friends, who are celebrating and clapping. Baekhyun eats from an enormous bag of popcorn, wearing his theater uniform. Jongin and Sehun take large handfuls and Hitch whoops with joy. Liz and Jane and Junmyeon are all smiling, and attempt to force some of the group away to give you privacy.

Jongdae’s hands flex on your waist. ‘I want to try. You’re everything I want, will you please give me the chance to be what you need?’ His voice is raspy and his lips are red and you can’t help but grin.

‘I just want you, okay?’ You fix his messed up hair with both hands and sigh with relief. ‘And for you to admit you like me.’

‘I far more than like you.’ Jongdae rolls his eyes and kisses you once more. ‘You just want me to say you’re right.’

With a laugh you ease yourself off your desk, standing close within his arms and bending to whisper in his ear. ‘I’m always right. I just love when you admit it.’

‘So,’ he starts with an amused quirk of an eyebrow. ‘Will you let me take you to dinner? Us, officially, on a date.’

Your chest feels as if it’s a balloon, expanding so rapidly it might burst. He looks so young and boyish and hopeful your heart feels like it turns to liquid gold. With a delighted grin you lean forward and press your lips to his again, unable to resist.

Joy swims in his irises as he holds you in his arms. He looks at you through his lashes, his lips tilting into lopsided smile. ‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘Yes,’ you answer. ‘Of course.’

‘How’s right now for you?’ He motions to the doors and your friends have finally been corralled to the side of the walkway, revealing an elaborately decorated table in the food court.

You gasp and grip his arm. Jun and Sehun hold the doors open and Jongdae escorts you out. A red tablecloth is spread out over the circular table. The chairs have added plush cushions and several candles have been lit. A bottle of wine and two glasses rest beside several plates of food. You recognize the pizza from Barada, the rest looks like a mix from the other restaurants in the food court. 

With high fives and hugs from your friends they finally leave you and Jongdae alone. Well, almost alone. It’s not a busy time at the mall, but there’s no way to avoid some of the customers turning to watch with amusement and curiosity as they pass by. You pay them no mind as Jongdae holds out your chair and helps you sit. 

The two of you fall back into conversation easy enough, aided by the enormous amount of food and how you no longer have to move your knees away when they bump under the table. Jongdae reaches for your hand and holds it, in full view. He stares at the joined digits with warmth before looking up at you. 

Doubt passes across his face, marring the beauty that contentment lends his features. ‘I don’t -’ he struggles. ‘I don’t know how to keep this much good in my life. I worry that I’m going to mess it up.’

Neither of you are the type to openly acknowledge such things. Merely the fact that he’s voicing his fears to you shows you he’s doing what he said - he’s trying, he wants to change. And truthfully so do you. 

‘I worried for the longest time that I’d be alone forever,’ you say softly. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who understood me or who could handle all my - well, you know how I am.’ 

Jongdae smiles then, lifting your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to your skin. ‘I love who you are.’ 

Your eyes mist at that and you groan, trying to blink them back. ‘Good, because I love who you are too.’ With your free hand you reach for his, needing to hold both of them and all of him at once. Not wanting to give his overly-analytical mind a chance to override the fragile hope you’re both building tonight. ‘You know what to do when a computer overloads?’

He nods. ‘Of course. Often it’s just a simple matter of turning it off and on again.’

‘So,’ you say, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. ‘When we mess up or freak out or say the wrong thing, we’ll just start over again. As long as you want me and I want you, we’ll figure it out.’ 

Jongdae softens, his shoulders dropping and ease coming back into his eyes. ‘I didn’t know I was lagging until you jump started my life.’ He waggles his brows. It’s a gesture that’s all Baekhyun, and a pun so terrible that Junmyeon would be proud. You can’t help but laugh and squeeze his hands. 

‘I’ve got one more surprise,’ Jongdae says, reluctantly releasing one of your hands to pull two narrow slips of paper from his pocket. ‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’ 

The tickets are in both your names. First class round trip from Seattle to Amsterdam. ‘Oh my - Jongdae, what is this? You and me in Amsterdam?’ 

‘I figured it was about time,’ he says with pride. 

You lean out of your chair and reach for him, tugging him closer to kiss him fully. Noise reaches you - clapping and cheering from the shops around the mall. When you look around you see Sehun and his girlfriend leaning out of Starlight Apparel. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo smiling and fist bumping as they work on closing up the shop. 

Hitch nudges Baekhyun from the theater booth and he jumps in excitement. And from Guardians Junmyeon leans on the counter, resting his chin in his hand, giving a thumbs up. 

You roll your eyes and wave. ‘We maybe should have gone somewhere outside the mall, huh?’

'No, I think this is perfect,’ Jongdae answers. He then covers your mouth with his and holds you so tight that it drowns out the chorus of cheering that echos around the space. 

#jongdae fanfic #chen fanfic #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo fluff #exo au

[writingintheshadowsforever]

I don't know if you've ever watched bridgerton but if you have could you write an Emily dickinson x female reader in a world where women can marry each other back then with the same plot as bridgerton Emily being Daphne and r being Simon (just female version) but with a tiny plot twist Emily is pretending to have something with R to get sue jealous instead of the original plot (daphne doing it to be more desirable) idk if that makes sense I'm sorry if it doesn't I'm bad at explaining things 😅

I actually haven't watched Bridgerton yet but it is on my watch list so I will get to at some point so I will keep this request and do it in the future when I'm all caught up I hope that's okay anon 😅

[livingdreams97]

Emily Dickinson- "The past comes back" (part 4)

Emily Dickinson x fem! reader/oc

Summary: An old friend of Lavinia's returns to Amherst after years out of town and not seeing each other. But what happens when Lavinia's friend turns out to be not only her friend, but two more girls and one of them turns out not to remember her.

Words: 4.642

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NOTE: If you see any spelling mistake im sorry, english is not my first lenguage and i try to do it the best possible.

Emily's POV

It's been two weeks since I last met Y/n at Sue and my brother's party. She hasn't been to my house one day and it's always Lavinia who goes to her house to spend time with her.

So she don't have to stop by our house and see me. I tried to go to her house to talk to her, but I don't know where her house is and I don't want to ask Vini or Sue ; because they would ask.

They will want to know why I am asking about her house and what I want to talk to her about. But I don't want to tell you that Y/n disappeared from the party because I admitted not remembering her and because of the argument we had.

Lavinia warned me from the beginning not to tell her, to act as if I knew her and to avoid at all costs admitting my lack of memories with or of her. Even when Sue found out about my memory loss, she suggested that I follow my sister's plan and not tell her the truth.

So if either of them finds out I argued with her and ended up telling her the truth, they'll kill me. I'm not entirely sure if Sue would kill me, but the one I'm sure would kill me is Lavinia.

My sister expressed to me the importance of not telling her, since Y/n held me in such a esteem and told me that when we were children she adored me. That's why I couldn't tell her, because it would hurt her a lot to know that I didn't remember her and that's exactly what ended up happening.

I feel incredibly guilty about it, I am not able to write feeling the anguish in my chest and the continuous emptiness due to a longing that I do not fully understand.

Besides that since my publication in the newspaper and the delivery of all my poems to Samuel, I have not been able to write a single thing. My mind is blank, the words no longer flow and I feel like a dry water well.

So I'm completely attacked, lost even and I don't know what to do to get out of this misfortune. My mother had even taken us to a spa to relax and try to make me feel better. But it hardly had any effect on me. The only good thing about that trip was seeing my friend George again.

Adding to all my problems, I think in a ghostly way I saw as Sue ; my Sue , had sex with Samuel. I don't understand how she could do something like that to me, after everything we've been through together and almost forcing me to have feelings for him.

Betrayed would be saying little for how I feel. My whole world collapses and I can't stop thinking about Sue and Samuel having sex, and the image of the little girl bleeding.

I'm sure that image is a memory, a memory of Y/n and how she got the scar on her eyebrow. But I can't check with anyone first because I don't know where Y/n and I doubt she'll want to talk to me, second because Lavinia asked me more about how the memory came to me, and lastly, I'm not going to ask Sue anything .

Lavinia: Are you okay? - she asks me taking me out of my thoughts and calling my attention.

Emily: Yeah, just that I was thinking and stuff.- i shrugged it off by looking at her. -Where are you going ? - I ask confused to see her ready to leave the house.

Lavinia: Where are we going, you mean?- she answers somewhat confused.

Emily: I don't understand what you mean by we.- I comment and she looks at me like I'm stupid.

Lavinia: It's the baptism of Jane's son.- She reminds me and I pat myself on the forehead.

Emily: I had forgotten.- I whisper, exhaling hard. -But it doesn't matter at all because I'm not going, I don't feel good to go and pretend interest in something as simple as a baptism.- I assure her, getting up from my desk and approaching her.

Lavinia: Okay, we're leaving now and we'll be back later.- She tells me, shrugging her shoulders and I nod in understanding.

Emily: Well, we'll see each other later.- I say goodbye and my sister walks out the door, closing it once outside.

I sigh when I'm alone in my room again and I scan the place with my eyes as if it were the first time. But as I look around the closet, something catches my eye and I focus my gaze on my closet.

I stare at it from top to bottom, trying to find what has caught my attention and finding myself with a slightly raised floorboard. I approach cautiously, kneeling on the floor and touching the protruding part of the board with the fingers of my right hand.

I lift it up a bit and when nothing comes out from under it to attack me I fully lift it up all the way. I set the small board aside and reach into the hole unceremoniously. As soon as I reach in, my fingers brush against something soft yet rough and I immediately know what it is.

I wrap my hand around the papers and, careful not to tear them, pull them out of the hole. I sit back on my heels, laying the cards on my lap and seeing that they are addressed to me. Completely confused, I sit on the floor with my back against the closet and decide to open the first letter.

I take the paper out of the envelope, finding myself with a somewhat irregular and difficult to read handwriting. I inspect the handwriting carefully, realizing that it must be a child's and remembering when I used to write the same way.

But when I see the date on which the letter is dated, I open my eyes completely surprised and decide to read it. The letter is from 13 years ago, it is dated October 25, 1842.

Letter

Dear Emily,

Hello again Emily, I write to you like every week to tell you what I have done and the things I have seen. In addition to telling you how much I miss you and how much I want to go home.

I miss Sue so much , Vini and even Austin. Of course I miss you a lot too, because you are you and you are the most amazing person in the world. But today has been incredible.

Dad had the day off from college and we went to something called the beach. Can you believe it; the beach. Although maybe you don't know what it is and you don't understand what I mean.

I don't know how to explain it very well, but for you I will try and if you don't understand it you can tell me in your next letter so I can ask my father to explain it for me. The beach is a place with a lot of sand, it is similar to the soil but it is pale in color and weighs much less. Sand is thiner and makes a lot less mess than dirt, although it gets everywhere and is very difficult to remove from clothes.

So avoid the sand. Oh, and it has a sea, the beach has a sea and people bathe in it. But not bathing like we do at home with soap, they just get in the water and wave their arms and legs for something called swimming. I'm not sure but father says that the sea water is salty and that it is good for the body. And Dad said he's going to teach Amber , Brandom and me how to swim when he's free.

Can you believe it ? I'm going to learn to swim and go into the sea. Mama says that the sea is part of the ocean and that they are very, very, very big. It also says that there are many animals in the sea and that some are as big as your favorite tree.

But still Cambri or whatever this place is called is not the same as Amherts . You're not here and neither are Sue and Vini . I get bored without you, my brothers don't want to play ladder like we do and they say our games are boring.

Can you believe it? Our games are not boring and they are dumb.

I miss swinging from the rope in my garden, we don't have a rope here and father said to try to get one. But it won't be the same because you won't be there to push me.

Did you finally do it ? Did you move your table in front of the window like I had it ? Isn't it much more fun to do homework looking out the window ?

I look forward to receiving your responses and I look forward to hearing from you about your adventures of the week.

With lots of love,

Y/n Harvard

End of the letter

Emily: Oh my god.- I mutter, surprised, covering my mouth at the end of the first letter.

This is real, she really was my friend and by the way she wrote to me at only 10 years old makes it clear to me that she really cared about me. I don't understand why the cards where hidden, but right now I'm glad they were saved and that I was able to find them.

Who knows, maybe my mother or even myself would have thrown the cards away as if they weren't important and I wouldn't have physical proof that Y/n and I were really friends.

I watch as a drop falls to the paper, surprising me and making me frown in confusion . I bring a hand to my face and my fingers meet my wet cheeks. I'm surprised, since I don't know when I started to cry and I don't understand how I didn't realize it before.

I wipe away my tears, looking up and meeting my desk directly. I smiled helplessly, reminding  myself at 12 years old moving the table towards the window and now I understand why I did it.

I return my gaze to the letters and begin to read them one by one. Looking at the date before, so I can read them in chronological order and avoid getting confused about what they say. As I read the sixth letter with an amused smile, someone knocks on my door and I immediately stop reading.

Emily: Who is it? - I ask and the door opens revealing Maggie 's head.

Maggie : You'd be interested to know that the newspaper man just got out of his carriage.- She tells me and I open my eyes completely surprised.

Emily: Really?- I ask hopefully, getting up from the floor and leaving the letters on my desk.

Maggie : Yes.- She answers me in the affirmative.

Emily: Good, because I'm going to demand my poems back from him and he won't leave without giving them back to me.- I assure her and quickly go down to the first floor with her behind me .

Maggie : I think it's very good, miss.- She supports me with a smile.

As soon as I'm done going downstairs, I hear someone knocking on the door and I walk towards it to open it. As soon as I open it I find a smiling Samuel, who doesn't wait for me to invite him and goes straight into the house.

Samuel: The house seems calm.- He comments and I look at Maggie for a few seconds.

Maggie : If the family has gone out to a baptism.- She tells him and I close the door. -It's a quiet Sunday and my day off.- she tells him and I walk two steps away from the door.

Samuel: I don't even rest on Sundays, the news doesn't rest and therefore neither do I. - He answers with a superior smile, taking off his hat and cleaning it with his hand.

Someone knocks on the door again, but this time Maggie walks towards it and opens it while I decide to ask her the reason for her presence in my house.

Emily: What are you doing here ? - I ask about his sudden presence in my house.

Samuel: I'm leaving and I've come to say goodbye to the family.- He replies by leaving his hat on the chair at the entrance. -Anyway, I'm starving.- he says and I look at him confused. -Do you have something I can eat ? - asks the redhead next to me.

Maggie : There will be plums in the kitchen.- She answers him directly, closing the door of the house and he looks at her strangely.

Samuel: You don't have roast beef ? - he asks and I see the disgusted gesture that my maid makes.

Maggie : I'll go see.- she replies without much encouragement. -I think you already know where Miss Lavinia's room is, right?- I hear someone say and I turn to meet the person I wanted to see.

Y/n: Yes, don't worry Maggie .- she assure her with a small smile. -I'll leave the shawl in her room and I'm leaving.- she comments and looks up, meeting mine .

Emily: Y/n.- I whisper without taking my eyes off her.

Y/n: Excuse the intrusion.- she says and walks by my side starting to go up the stairs.

Emily: Prevent her from leaving at all costs.- I whisper to my maid and she nods.

Maggie : If you'll excuse me, I'll go see what I can bring this man to eat.- She apologizes and walks towards the kitchen with the laundry basket in her arms.

Once I am alone with Samuel, I ask him to speak in the living room so that I can retrieve my poems. I plan to avoid looking at it, so that I can't be convinced and keep my poems. He is evil and with his way of looking and talking he deceives everyone.

Y/n's POV

I leave the shawl that Lavinia forgot in my house yesterday on her bed, seeing at least four cats in the room and one of them looks at me badly. I decide to leave the room as soon as possible, to prevent that cat from getting upset and ending up attacking me.

I walk downstairs, careful not to fall and find Maggie pressed against the wall next to the living room. I finish down the stairs and approach her quietly.

Y/n: What are you doing?- I ask in a whisper, leaning forward.

Maggie : Oh for the Lord.- she murmurs with her hand on her chest. -Don't do that.- she claims and I look at her amused.

Y/n: Wait, are you listening to the conversation between Emily and the stuffy guy?- I ask with an evil smile.

Maggie : What? No, of course not.- She denies and when Emily screams she snaps at me, sticking to the wall again.

Y/n: What are they talking about?- I ask interested and placing myself under her in the same position.

Maggie : The stiff is a newspaper publisher, he's the one who published Emily's poem a week ago and she ended up giving him all her poems.- she tells me and I open my eyes in surprise.- But now Miss Emily wants the poems back , but it seems that the gentleman does not want to return them.- He explains to me and I narrow my eyes annoyed.

Emily: Mr. Bowles, do you still have my poems?- I listen as he asks the stiff guy.

Bowles : Of course, I carry them in my bag so I can read them on the train.- he replies and I look at Maggie with open eyes.

I look down, spotting a brown leather satchel on the floor, and look over to the maid for confirmation. When she nods, confirming that the bag on the floor belongs to that guy, I open it quickly, trying to be as quiet as possible, and search inside for Emily's poems.

I find a handful of papers of different sizes and show them to Maggie confirming that they are poems. She smiles back at me and I close the bag back up and we both back away from the wall as the discussion becomes clearer.

Hearing hurried footsteps, Maggie and I run to hide behind the stairs. We see Emily grab the bag off the floor, but Bowles grabs the bag too and starts a tug of war for her.

We watch the little fight in surprise, seeing how the man grabs his hat and runs out of the house with Emily behind him . We leave our hiding place walking calmly towards the entrance, seeing from the door an Emily in the middle of the road and how Mr. Bowles ' cart moves away.

Y/n: Do we tell her now or do we let her bask in her sorrow a little more ? - I ask the maid.

Maggie : Let's leave her a little longer, I'm sure this will inspire her and get something positive out of it.- She answers me and I nod without taking my eyes off the one who was my friend.

We stare at her for a while longer, seeing how she hugs herself and stares at the road where the carriage has disappeared. When I think enough is enough, I whistle to get her attention and when I get it, I gesture for her to come back into the house.

Maggie and I walk back into the house, but she just gives me an encouraging look and disappears into the kitchen. I walk to the living room and decide to wait sitting on the sofa. I hide the poems behind my back and look at the decorations in the room.

Emily: I hate my life.- she growls falling into the seat on my left.

Y/n: I don't think your life is that bad.- I assure her with an amused smile.

Emily: Says the university student whose parents accept and allow her to attend conferences.- She says sarcastically and I look at her raising an eyebrow.

Y/n: And what does that have to do with anything?- I ask confused by her comment.

Emily: Once, only once have I been able to go to a conference and it was because Sue and I dressed up as men.- She tells me and I can't help but laugh at the image that comes to mind.

Y/n: With hat, cane and everything?- I ask somewhat amused and she looks at me with narrowed eyes. -I'll take it as a yes.- I comment, unable to help but laugh.

Emily: I don't want to sound rude or anything like that.- She says, straightening her posture in the chair. -But why are you talking to me? The last time; you said that it was better that we keep our distances.- she asks me and I sigh remembering that night.

I don't think I've ever cried as much in my life as I did that night two weeks ago. Knowing that the person you appreciate the most and with whom you were in love at some point does not remember you is hard. Especially when you have practically grown up with her and you imagined anything for her silence except the lack of memory.

Knowing that Emily didn't even remember me has been hard, especially when the vast majority of my happiest memories were with or around her. And it could be said that her lack of memories has hurt me more than any possible rejection.

Emily: I mean, it's not that I'm not happy that you're talking to me and we're not arguing, but I don't understand.- She speaks quickly and I look at her sad.

Y/n: Somehow I still believe that the best thing is that we have as little relationship as possible.- I say a little sad. -It would be absurd to make you go through a bad time, trying to force you to remember something that for some reason your mind has erased and only for the two weeks that I have left here.- I explain and I see how she shakes her head.

Emily: But it doesn't have to be just two weeks.- She assures me with a gleam of hope in her beautiful brown eyes.

Y/n: I'm leaving in two weeks.- I remind her obviously. -Besides, somehow knowing the truth has liberated me in some way and I no longer feel the guilt I used to have before the thousands of possibilities for your lack of response.- I tell her with a small smile and she makes a face.

Emily: What if we keep in touch this time?- she asks me with hope, looking like an excited puppy and making herself be seen as the cutest thing in the world.

Y/n: We tried it once and it didn't work.- I remember her somewhat sad. -I haven't called you for that anyway.- I explain to leave this conversation behind.

Emily: And may I know why you whistled at me then?- curiously questions and i can see some amusement in her eyes.

Y/n: For this.- I respond by moving my hand behind my back and showing her the handful of his poems.

Emily: No.- she denies completely surprised.

Y/n: Yes.- I confirm looking at the poems in my hand and then at her.

Emily: But how ? What... ?- she asks still in shock.

Y/n: Going down the stairs I found Maggie gossiping and she made me curious.- I begin to explain. -She told me a little about your poems and while you were arguing I stole them from his wallet.- I reply, shrugging my shoulders without giving it much importance.

Emily: You are the best!- She screams excitedly and suddenly jumps on me throwing us to the ground.

Y/n: Ouch .- I growl when my back hits the ground hard.

Emily: You are the best, you are the best, you are the best.- repeats hugging me by the neck; although rather it is suffocating me.

Y/n: Yes, but I need to breathe.- I tell her and she loosens the grip of her arms around my neck.

I simply laying still, holding her poems in one hand and not really knowing where to place the other. After a few moments Emily separates a little from me and her face is inches from mine.

Emily: I remember this.- she whispers in a calm voice, moving one of her arms to delicately touch the scar on my eyebrow. -During the discussion I noticed your scar and when I was alone it was as if an image flooded my mind.- she tells me and I observe how her eyes move all over my face.

Y/n: Em.- I call her but she tells me to shut up.

Emily: Please, let me try to remember you and have you in my life again.- She begs me with some pain in her eyes.

Y/n: I don't know if I can go through it again Em.- I admit with pain and I watch how her eyes travel all over my face again.

Emily: Please.- She asks me in just a whisper, bringing her face closer to mine if possible and making our breaths mix.

I am only capable of swallowing nervously, not fully understanding what is happening and somewhat stunned by her proximity. From one moment to another I feel her lips on mine and I open my eyes completely surprised.

I'm in shock, the girl I had a crush on for a while is all over me and she's kissing me. Well maybe I'll never stop being in love with her, but that's not the case right now. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson is kissing me, I never thought this day would come and less because of the type of society we live in.

So I decide to take a risk and enjoy the moment. I start to move my lips against hers, kissing her back, and move my free hand to rest on the back of her waist.

Emily: The summer of '42.- she whispers suddenly separating from my lips and I open my eyes dazed by the kiss.

Y/n:What? - I ask trying to understand what she means.

Emily: The summer of '42, I fell off the couch playing with Austin and Lavinia and hit my head.- she tells me with her eyes wide open. -I was unconscious for a day and a half, and then it took me a while to identify people for a week.- she remembers, impressed, and now it's me who opens her eyes in surprise.

Y/n: And why did Vini never tell me anything about that?- I ask confused not understanding anything.

Emily: You're talking about Vini , she loves to call and be the center of attention.- She reminds me of a bit of fun.

Y/n: Of course.- I roll my eyes laughing and watch her while she laughs too. –And why mention the fall now? - I ask calling her attention.

Emily: Because I didn't remember it until now.- She answers me with a small grimace. -They have been like flashes, in which my brothers, my parents, Sue and you appeared.- she whispers with a small smile.

Y/n: Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying?- I ask trying to suppress the smile of happiness that wants to escape me.

Emily: What? That I remember you and that this is not the first kiss we give each other?- she asks me raising an eyebrow and looking at me with some suggestion in her eyes.

Y/n: I don't know what you're talking about.- I deny, pretending not to know what kiss she's talking about and feeling my heart beat happily because she reminds me.

Emily: This will make you remember.- she whispers and leans back, bringing our lips together again.

We keep kissing for a while, until we decide it's too risky and that anyone can see us on the floor of her living room. So we end up going to my house, where she decides to spend the night and we create new memories together.

We spent the next two weeks glued to each other and listening to Vini 's complaints about ignoring or leaving her out. The worst thing was saying goodbye, because I didn't know if I'd be back soon or if I'd be back at all.

But as soon as we got back to our house in Cambridge, Father told me and Mother that from Friday to Sunday we would be residing at Amherts . Apparently that was the reason for the trip and so we had to take care of fixing some things in the house.

So that it can be habited again by us. The best part of my father's surprise was when we returned to Amherts that same Friday and I knocked on the Dickinsons ' door to surprise both Emily and Vini .

I even managed to convince my father so that one week a month I would stay alone in the house, with a maid to "take care of me" but alone in the end. Those days were the best of the month, since my friends spent the day with me and Emily stayed the night.

Nights in which we made up for all the lost time and connected as only we did. Emily has been the person I loved, love and will love the most in the whole world and with total security she corresponds to me.

(In this story after Sue slept with Samuel, Emily didn't sleep with her and after the memory kiss Emily and Y/n became a secret couple.)

THE END

#emily dickinson x reader #emily dickinson #emily dickinson x female reader #emily dickinson x fem reader #hailee steinfeld #hailee x reader #hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfield x fem reader #emily dickinson x fem oc #dickinson series #love #lgbtq #dickinson #drama #reader #female oc #female reader #oc character

[fanficflaneuse]

One Day - Part 2

A/N: I was so happy with this I couldn’t wait to post it! I have a few things to say before we start: 

First, thanks for your love and support <3 Every little heart makes me happy. 

Second, and this one is very important, in this series (like Emma, in the movie), the reader is a writer. Now, I can’t write poetry for my life, so I decided to use my writing as a platform for other female poets. Today, my writing features “Hope Is The Thing With Feathers” by Emily Dickinson and “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou. 

Third, not so fun...for some reason my writing has been disappearing from the tags. Anyone has any idea why does it happen? It makes me very sad :(

But enough of me. Let’s do this! 

Details: 

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) 

Word count: 1548 

Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist 

3 May, 1999 

After a tortuous year of legal ventures, media scrutiny, tears and more than one headache, the Malfoy family had finally been cleared for good. At first, everyone in charge had intended to use the Malfoy case to set a precedent and appease the grieving wizarding community. They thought it wouldn’t be hard, given that the Malfoys had a lot to be held accountable for. (Y/N) had worked hard all year long. She convinced her friends – namely Harry – to testify. She swayed the jury in their favour and campaigned for a fair trial. She would always volunteer to gather evidence so she was completely sure that nobody was trying to temper with it. It had paid off spectacularly.

By the time Draco had to walk into the ministry for the final verdict, he had already given up. He knew from the get go that they were set up to lose; most people wanted to see him behind bars. Draco only feared for his parents, especially his beautiful mother. This last year he had been haunted by the image of Narcissa Malfoy in Azkaban: hair grey and unruly, teeth yellow, cheekbones sunken, gaze unfocused. He imagined her driven to insanity, a maniacal laugh erupting from her throat. That vision alone was enough to break him.

As he sat in the middle of the room, flanked by his parents, he thought about (Y/N)’s letters. He had spent most of the year under house arrest and she had gone back to retake her Seventh year at Hogwarts, so they could only glance at each other during his court hearings. Their correspondence, however, was a source of comfort for both of them. It had been a bit awkward at first, but (Y/N) would send him masterfully written poems and short stories that took his mind off of the mess his life had turned into. Soon enough, they started confiding in each other. Through letters, they became the best of friends. Her words were his solace, so it didn’t come as a surprise when his mind lingered on the first few verses of the last poem she had written to him:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself, made his way to the judge’s desk. As he sat down, regal and solemn, the chitchat that surrounded them stopped completely. Draco tried to act calm and collected; he was, after all, a condemned man. To everyone, though, it was evident that something was consuming the blond Slytherin.

That perches in the soul –

The Minister unrolled the parchment that would dictate the Malfoys’ fate. Draco’s gaze frantically searched for (Y/N). She was sitting on the right, sandwiched in between Hermione and Harry. Her hand was grabbing onto Harry’s arm for reassurance. When their eyes met, (Y/N) offered him an encouraging smile. He returned a half smile that was unable to conceal his nerves.

And sings the tune without the words –

Draco tried really hard to concentrate on what Kingsley said, but his mind was jumbled with so many things he couldn’t process all at once. Every bit of sound around him was tuned out, only to be replaced with a deafening noise inside his head. Something dark was pressing his chest, crawling up his throat, filling his head with smoke. He wanted to scream. Draco felt dizzy all of a sudden. He was trying really hard not to make a scene, to keep his breathing steady. It was as if he was pushed all the way back to his Sixth year.

And never stops - at all –

The courtroom blew up in an uproar. He was engulfed in a hug by his mother. As she cried on his shoulder, the smoke in his brain dissipated. He heard the clicking of cameras, the insults and dissatisfied remarks. He heard the applauses, the sighs of relief. It took him a minute to understand what was going on. Still in the embrace, his eyes met with (Y/N)’s. She was staring at him almost adoringly, her head slightly tilted to the side and a pleased smile on her face.

“I told you”, she mouthed.

Draco was still too bewildered to even think of a response, but he smiled back to her. This time it was a whole and genuine smile that took her back to their encounter last year.

                                                           ....

The original plan was to go out and celebrate in muggle London. (Y/N) would go back to Hogwarts the next day, but she wanted to be with Draco tonight. She spent a while deciding what to wear. The rustling of fabrics took her back to the night of the Yule Ball. She smiled softly, thinking how she was ten times more excited now. (Y/N) finally settled on a black fitted dress, a leather jacket and ankle boots. She was about to sit in front of her vanity to put her make up on when Draco appeared in the middle of her room.

It surprised her so much she almost fell from her seat. Draco didn’t look like he was ready to go anywhere. He looked unkempt and tired. He gave her a sorrowful look, which forced her to bolt up from her seat and take him in her arms. Draco collapsed immediately. Sobs ripped off his chest one after the other.

“I-I just…I can’t…”

“It’s okay, Draco,” she offered softly.

“I need your company,” he managed to say.

Draco felt pathetic, but he couldn’t deny being in her arms made things a million times better. He had been cleared by the law, she had saved him. But not even his wondrous cuddle partner could save him from himself, from his self-hatred and the guilt and shame. She couldn’t save him from staring at his left forearm until he felt it burned.

Draco let the tears roll freely, wash away the horrible things inside him. (Y/N) felt her own eyes stinging, but only until their limbs were once again tangled (this time in a sofa by the fireplace) did she let herself weep ever so slightly. Their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. Draco’s head rested just above (Y/N)’s breast. He could hear the beating of her heart, which comforted him in more ways than he thought possible. Their legs stretched together and her arms enveloped him. She brought one of her hands to his hair and let her fingertips massage his scalp. Draco bawled until he felt he had no tears left. (Y/N) was so soft and gentle with him that he basked in her caresses.

As she pressed a kiss to his forehead, Draco was invaded with the sense that he didn’t deserve her. He blurted it out loud; with her he had no need to restrain his thoughts. (Y/N) hugged him tighter. She took his left arm and uncovered the mark that marred his milky skin. Draco lifted himself up just enough to search her face. He was expecting to see fear and disgust, but there was none of that. All he saw was the same understanding, same warmth she always seemed to have for him.

As she saw the mark, (Y/N) was, of course, pained. Everything the mark represented had taken away her childhood and adolescence. It was the reason why she had scars and she cried herself to sleep. It was why she was mourning some of her friends and family. She didn’t blame it on Draco, though. He had no choice and he was possibly as broken and scared as she was. She wanted to give him love and support. And so, she surprised even herself when she brought his forearm to her lips and kissed the mark of doom. Draco’s vision got blurry again. He pressed his ear to her heart and hugged (Y/N) as tightly as he could. She returned his embrace fiercely.

“I don’t deserve you, (Y/N/N)” he repeated, his voice muffled.

“It’s not a matter of deserving or not, Dray. And even if it was, you deserve as much love and care as anyone else,” she reminded him.

He sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Merlin, I’m so lucky to have you,” he answered.

“As I am to have you,” he could hear the smile in her voice.

They remained silent, an air of contentment engulfing them both.

“Is this how it’s going to work?” he asked, adopting a playful tone.

“What is?”

“Are we going to like…meet once a year to cuddle and cry?”

Draco felt pleased with himself as her chest vibrated with laughter.

“I hope not,” she answered sincerely.

“Me neither, (Y/N/N).”

They went back to their pleasant silence. The crackling of the fire in front of them soothed them both.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice small.

“Hmh?”

“Could…could you read one of your poems to me?”

She smiled softly, her hand still buried in his hair. (Y/N) thought for a second before speaking.

“You may write me down in history,” her voice was soft and tender and to Draco it had a lulling effect.

“With your bitter, twisted lies,”

“You may trod me in the very dirt”

Draco started dozing off. He couldn’t recall the last time he welcomed sleep. He closed his eyes. Somewhere in his dreams, (Y/N)’s last few words resounded:

“But still, like dust, I'll rise”.

Tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook

#Draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy reader inserts #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy inserts #draco malfoy reader imagines #reader inserts #draco malfoy cuddles #harry potter reader inserts #harry potter series #post war harry potter #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fanfics

[companionjones]

Friends Made Along The Way

Requested by: @damedevon

Request: This is the second request in case you don't want to do the first one :)  NCIS universe: Reader, genius level IQ that is a talented artist (painting, sculpting, all the things) is brought in to consult on a case. (S)he meets Spencer and they hit it off, talking about cultured literature and time period specific art and history.

Fandoms: NCIS, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Spencer Reid x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!BAU Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Platonic!NCIS Team x NCISAgent!Reader, Specifically Platonic!Gibbs x NCISAgent!Reader

Warnings: Extreme descriptions of blood and gore

Author’s Note: This takes place around season 5 for both NCIS and Criminal Minds. Idk if that lines up chronologically, sorry if it doesn’t.

*******

    “We got a case,” informed Gibbs as he headed to his desk for his gun and badge.

    Yourself and the rest of your team moved to gather your individual things and meet in the elevator.

    Gibbs gave more details about the case. “A former marine was found dead outside a Cheesy Cheese.”

    Timothy McGee asked, awkwardly, “Uh, Boss? Don’t you mean Chuck E. Cheese?”

    “Does it look like I know the difference, McGee?” Gibbs returned.

    The younger agent was clearly uncomfortable. “No, Boss. It’s just...I didn’t--”

    Ziva’s voice was as sly as ever. “It’s best to stop now, McGee.”

    As you headed out of the bull-pen, you opened your mouth to say something.

    DiNozzo cut you off instead. “L/n, I swear to God, if you make one more Shakespeare reference today, Ziva’s driving to the crime scene.”

    “Tony,” you rolled your eyes, “How could I possibly make a reference to the Bard from this?”

    All DiNozzo had to do was give you a look.

    “Fine, I’ll shut up,” you sighed, exiting your team’s area.

    Abruptly, Gibbs turned and stopped you. “Not you.”

    “What?” You were shocked.

    Gibbs gruffly explained, “Fornell called. Apparently, a friend of his wants you on his case. It’s ten miles out.”

    Forgetting your usual respect for your superior, you groaned.

    Again, all it took was a look.

    “Yes, sir,” you childishly agreed.

***

    “Excuse me, Agent Aaron Hotchner?” I’m Agent Y/n L/n, from NCIS.” You stuck your hand out when the man confirmed his name.

    He took your offer, and shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under these circumstances.” The senior FBI agent spent the following few minutes explaining the details of the case to you.

    So far, three murders had been committed. The odd thing about the murders was that the killer was recreating paintings by an artist from the 1800s by posing the victims how the muses were posed in certain paintings. You had read about the strange murders in the paper.

    “Gustave Courbet,” you named the original artist. “I realized that after the first murder. I didn’t think it was going to take you guys this long to figure it out.”

    Hotchner knew not to take your words personally. “That’s why we called you in. We need an expert on Courbet on this case.” He noticed an agent from his team walking up to where the two of you were in the living room of the apartment/crime scene. “This is Dr. Reid. He’s the one on our team who recognized the pattern in the first place.”

    The younger man greeted you by giving you his first name. “Spencer.” He then admitted, “I don't shake hands.”

    “Oh, okay. Call me Y/n,” you politely offered.

    Another agent was making his way to the three of you. Two female agents and an older male agent were trailing behind him.

    The darker-skinned agent smiled. “We’re very proud of our Dr. Reid, here. Kid has an IQ of 187.”

    “You’ve got me beat, then,” you admitted, turning back to Dr. Reid. “My score is 186.”

    Everyone seemed pretty blown away by that. You could tell it was rare that the team came across anyone that was as smart as their resident genius.

    You never liked the term ‘genius,’ especially when it was used on you. On the contrary, you mostly kept your skills under the radar. Except for a few literary references here and there, you rarely talked about your smarts. Actually, you never really got the chance to.

    The rest of the agents on the team introduced themselves, and Hotch explained, “We’re the BAU at the FBI. It stands for--”

    “Behavioral Analysis Unit. I know. But here’s an acronym you guys probably don’t know-NCIS. It’s where I work.”

    Hotch obviously knew what it meant. He was the one who called you in. You got a marine vibe from Rossi, so he probably knew, too. They weren’t the kind of men to just blurt out the answer, however. The rest of the team seemed to be having trouble with the acronym.

    Spencer was different. “Naval Criminal Investigative Service,” he said almost immediately.

    “Good! It’s rare someone just knows that. I’m assuming you don’t have any prior connections...Maybe you do know what you’re talking about.”

    You noticed a prolonged look Agent Morgan gave Spencer. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, and moved his gaze elsewhere. You didn’t understand the exchange.

    Hotchner began, “Okay,. Now that introductions are out of the way, we were hoping you could take a look at this crime scene.”

    Two minutes later, you were two inches away from a body. The poor woman was a hunched over in a chair. She was a brunette, and looked to weigh about 200 pounds. Like the other victims, she was dressed in middle class mid-1800s clothing. The chair she was in was next to a spindle. She had some raw wool wrapped around a distaff sitting on her lap. You swallowed hard when the thought crossed your mind that it almost seemed like she was sleeping.

    Agent Jareau (she preferred the nickname JJ) informed you, “She was found early this morning by a mother and daughter returning from a trip. This apartment is theirs. They don’t own a spinning wheel.”

    Rossi continued, “We got a positive I.D., her name is Suzanne Welling. No relation to the family that live here.”

    “I hope the daughter is young. There’s more of a chance of her forgetting this tragedy when she gets older,” you quickly added that last part when you realized how harsh you sounded. You never broke your studying of the remains.

    JJ confirmed, “The girl’s 4 years old.” It was a tone you could tell clearly was a mother’s. You wondered how many kids she had. You also hoped your words weren’t too harsh.

    “The painting this is based on is The Sleeping Spinner, painted in 1853. It looks like he’s going in chronological order.” You dragged your index finger over your bottom lip. It was a thinking habit you had.

    Emily Prentiss, the other female agent on the team, inquired, “Why do you think he’s male?”

    “The first painting--er...murder.” You straightened up onto your feet. “The Wounded Man, originally painted in 1844. It’s a self-portrait. A lot of Courbet’s early works were. The killer sees himself as Courbet. The first muse--victim probably looks like the murderer.”

    A new voice entered the room. “Unsub.” It was Spencer. “Unknown suspect. We call our suspects unsubs. You can, too...if you want to.”

    “...Unsub.” You smiled slightly while you tested out the name for Spencer.

    He expressed the same sentiment to you.

    The rest of the day was spent working the case. It was explained to you that the team would usually split up with some of them heading to the local police department when first arriving for an assignment. It was just how things worked out in that particular instance that the whole team went straight to the crime scene.

    Soon enough, you found out Spencer was the agent who spent most of his time in the local police stations. You were the agent who spent most of your time with Spencer.

    “What’re you up to, Agent Reid?” you asked with a somewhat playful tone.

    He had been pinning a map to the board you and the BAU team had borrowed for the case. He started marking it up. “I’m making a geological profile of the area. We usually see if the locations of the crime scenes give us any clues to where the unsub is living or where he might kill next.”

    “At NCIS, we do the same thing to see if we can find out where the killer lives--”

    Spencer distractedly corrected you, “Unsub.”

    “Unsub. But we don’t really have cases where we have to predict where the unsub may strike next.”

    The young FBI agent reasoned, “It’s crazy, but you get used to it. Soon, it’s just another part of life.”

    “I don’t think I would want to get used to this kind of stuff.” You couldn’t help your mind from drifting to the deceivingly peaceful form you had observed earlier that day.

    For a moment, Spencer stopped his efficient actions. He was thinking. “... ‘Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me. The Carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.’ Emily Dickinson.”

    “She looked at death like it was such a peaceful thing. Like it was a new beginning.” Your tone was more bittersweet than you had ever heard it sound.

    He turned toward you. Spencer headed for a seat next to yours at the conference room table. “Maybe that’s what it is: just another part of life.”

   “We investigate death everyday...but we never talk about what comes after.”

    The young man smirked slightly, “They obsessed over it enough in the 1800s. Is there even a need to think too much about it anymore?”

    Surprisingly, that got you to laugh. You and Spencer Reid sat there in the conference room, laughing about your elders’ morbid curiosities.

***

    “Happy Monday,” you greeted as you descended the stairs into the basement.

    Gibbs looked up from his fifth boat-in-progress. “Happy Monday, L/n.”

    Similar to everyone else on the team, Gibbs had a unique relationship with you. You hadn’t known Gibbs as long as he’d known Ducky, but the two of you were very close. However, you didn’t think you’d ever be as important to him as Abby.

    Anyway, you and Gibbs had a standing arrangement for dinner every Monday night. It was never anything fancy, nothing with Gibbs ever was. Dinner with the senior agent usually consisted of two orders of Chinese food in his basement.

    “Making slow progress with this one, aren’t you?” you questioned, referring to Gibbs’ latest woodwork.

    He responded, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, as long as it’s done right.”

    “Yes, sir,” you chuckled. You pulled out the meals while Gibbs set up a makeshift table and chairs.

    About ten minutes later, your boss interrupted what you though was your usual, comfortable silence. “You seem preoccupied.”

    “I am,” you admitted, “It’s the FBI case.”

    He looked you over, then went back to eating. Then, Gibbs easily stated, “It’s not just that.”

    You stared at him hard, trying to come up with something else to say besides the truth. You sighed and repeated him, “It’s not just that, but this isn’t your area of expertise.”

    Once more, all it took was a look.

    “It’s a guy, Gibbs. A cute, kind, and smart guy.” You met his gaze because you expected that that would be enough for him to back off.

    Jarringly (for you, anyway), Gibbs didn’t give up. He continued to stare is Gibbs stare right into your soul.

    “Agent Spencer Reid,” you gave in, revealing the boy’s name. “Has a higher IQ than me...Eh, he has 187. I have--”

    He gave your score for you, “186.”

    “So, it doesn’t really count.”

    Gibbs chuckled, then agreed, “No, it doesn’t.”

    After about an hour, dinner was done. You headed home, but not before mulling over the fact that you had just talked romance with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Maybe you were closer with him than you had previously thought.

***

    The next morning, you were woken up at 5 A.M. with a phone call from Hotch. At first, you were concerned as to why you weren't notified earlier. You launched out of bed and began to quickly get dressed. Hotch grew hesitant. He didn't seem to want you to go to the crime scene. You didn’t know why. You insisted that you were a federal agent just as he was, and that you had every right to be at any crime scene that had to do with a case you were legally working.

    On your way to where the BAU was, you continued to think about the team. They apparently took you in as one of their own after just one day of working with you. It reminded you of your connections with your almost-family at NCIS. You didn’t mind it, and you were actually warming up to the idea. The only thing you had a problem with was when it interfered with your job. Hotch did that when he tried to keep you from a crime scene. You knew he was trying to protect you, but you were wondering from what.

    The newest crime scene was an abandoned warehouse. Spencer was standing outside, on the phone with someone as you pulled up. When you got out of your car, he handed the phone to Agent Morgan.

    Morgan smiled to himself as he walked away. “Baby, how you always bring such beautiful light in this world is beyond me...Love you, sweetheart.”

    “Who was that on the phone?” you inquired.

    Spencer answered, “Penelope Garcia...Our technical analyst.”

    “Co-workers are allowed to date each other on your side?”

    That last question made him smile. “Nope. And they’re not dating.”

    “...Huh.”

    “Huh indeed.”

    Sighing, you then cracked your neck. “Alright. In we go.” You brushed around Spencer and headed toward the entrance of the warehouse.

    You were surprised when Spencer took hold of your shoulders and stepped back in front of you.

    He seemed as concerned as Hotchner, if not more. “Listen, Y/n. Remember that conversation we had yesterday? You said that you didn’t think you ever wanted to get used to the death that we see. Y/n, there’s a lot of death in there.”

    “No one in this hemisphere can tell you what the unsub is aiming for in there besides me. If we catch this guy, it’ll save everyone from more death than what could be in there.”

    Still, Spencer didn’t let you go.

    “...Please, Spencer.”

    The boy gave you a look that reminded you of a puppy. He stepped aside.

    A few steps later, you were inside. Turns out, a few steps were all you could take. Fifteen people. Three of them were children. It was a long time before you were able to breathe again.

    When you did take a breath, JJ and Emily were at your side. Not that you were complaining. You would need someone to steady you if your knees buckled.

    Hotch came up to the three of you. “This is why I didn’t want you coming here, L/n.”

    “...I’ve never seen a massacre like this...” You still weren’t sure you could remain on your feet.

    Rossi approached. “Do you need to leave for a second?”

    “The Preparation of a Dead Girl...and/or Wife...all the public knows is that it was released sometime in the 1850s,” you slowly breathed out the words after you swallowed. With your knees shaking, you made your way closer to the scene. “He put rods in them to pose them correctly compared to the painting...They were still alive when he put the rods in place.”

    It was hard for you to understand how, but you made it through the rest of the day. Everyone in the BAU could obviously tell you continued to be affected by the most recent crime scene, and you hated that they were all walking on eggshells around you. The bottom line was that you didn’t let it affect your job, and you didn’t see why everyone was treating you differently. Okay, maybe you did see why. It was the same reason why Gibbs let Abby ramble on about the little things sometimes. Family. You were already part of the BAU’s family.

***

    Later that night, you were back home. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t mind. You still found a way to fit all the books and art supplies you wanted in your home.

    There was a knock at your door.

    “Hiya, Spencer,” you softly greeted. You left your door open for him to enter through. You returned to your seat at your pottery wheel. “I hope you don’t mind if I keep working on this while you’re here. It centers me.” You got quieter. “...It calms me down.”

    For a moment, Spencer was silent. “How long have you been in the field?” His question was gentle, unaccusing.

    “Do people get annoyed when you profile them in social situations, Dr. Reid?” Your tone didn’t hold any malice, either.

    He smirked, “All the time.”

    It was your turn to be silent as you resolved to answer Spencer’s question. “Gibbs and I first met when he and his team were working a case at the University I taught at. He came to see me for some time after that. Most of the time it was to use my intellect on other cases he was working...I’m quite proud to say I was one of the few friends he had outside of the agency. Well, until I joined the agency.” You paused as you chuckled. “He recruited me back in ‘03, and I’ve been with the team ever since.”

    Spencer waited. He could tell you weren’t finished.

    “Only...,” you sighed, accepting that you couldn’t hide the following fact from him. “I’ve only been allowed at crime scenes for about a year or so. Gibbs is fiercely protective of me, and it took me years to get him to let me into the field...Man, I hope he doesn’t find out I acted today. He would never let me see a dead body again...not even in Ducky’s autopsy.” You said that last part more to yourself.

    He smiled at you from his chair. “I think you acted perfectly fine today, Y/n.”

    “Betcha Agent Rossi didn’t think so,” you chuckled, “He was read to dodge my vomit when I showed up today.” You stopped talking for a moment when your mind jumped back to the bloody warehouse. “...Your team doesn’t think I’m fit to be in the field.”

    Spencer almost matter-of-factly stated, “They don’t think that.”

    “Well, what do they think?” The vase you had been working on was thrown off balance on the pottery wheel. You set to work fixing it.

    The male agent never moved his eyes from you. “They care about you, Y/n...I do, too.”

    You were thankful you had your craft to focus on, it helped you hide your smile. “I know that, Spencer...I know that.”

    Spencer stayed for the next few hours. Nothing physical happened. You eventually put away your pottery and broke out some wine. The two of you spent the night talking about arts, literature, and maybe other things that the two of you needed to discuss.

***

    The following day, you made it to the local police station by 7 A.M. You first stop was the conference room where Spencer was already studying the map as closely as the last time the two of you had been in that room.

    “Did you even sleep last night?” You inquired as you set your things down in one of the chairs.

    As expected, Spencer barely glanced in your direction as you found a seat for yourself. He was already too immersed in his work. “I actually kind of slept in today...I have you and Walt Whitman to thank for that.” Surprising you, Spencer glanced over his shoulder and caught your gaze.

    His inside joke got you to throw your head back in laughter. “Alright, Spencer. Here’s what I want you to do.” You hurled yourself out of your chair, and moved to stand next to the young agent. “I want you to explain this map to me. You don’t even have a key for it.”

    Spencer shrugged, “It’s easy enough. These are parks, these are obviously areas of water, and this right here is a Chuck E. Cheese, so these marks mean places entertainment--”

    “What?”

    He pointed to a part of the map that was less than five blocks away from the second crime scene. “This mark right here is a Chuck E. Cheese. Which means--”

    “No Spencer, you don’t understand. NCIS had a body at a Chuck E. Cheese. There can’t be too many of these in this area. This is very close to the second crime scene, but not close enough that it would make sense for the unsub to still be on foot. What if the unsub was walking home and the former marine saw the weapon? The unsub has used the same gun in every killing. He would have to take it home with him. The unsub could live in this area!” You drew a circle with your finger of a quarter mile radius around the second crime scene.

    Spencer didn’t agree. “I don’t know, Y/n. All of this seems highly circumstantial. Couldn’t this all be a coincidence?”

    “There are no such thing as coincidences,” you shook your head.

    It was enough to get Gibbs and the rest of the team to work with the BAU on the case. Within the hour, most of your NCIS family were present in the local police department.

    Hotch greeted Gibbs with a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Gibbs. I wish it could be under better circumstances.”

    Gibbs nodded, “The feeling is mutual, Agent Hotchner.”

    “Your Agent Y/n has proven to be very impressive.”

    There was a blink-and-you-miss-it twitch of the lips for Gibbs. For half of a moment, he smiled. “That’s why I recruited them.”

    Meanwhile, you were still in the conference room with Spencer. Tony, Ziva, and McGee had joined the two of you. You were explaining the details of he case to your three coworkers.

    As usual, Tony got off topic as soon as he could. “So, Agent Reid” Tony was nose to nose with the uncomfortable FBI agent, “you’re just a hybrid of McGeek and L/n, aren’t you?” He sniffed the air. “I think I smell a bit of Palmer on you as well.”

    Spencer looked anywhere but Tony. “I don’t know who Palmer is.”

    “He’s our medical examiner’s assistant, Spencer,” you clarified, “Tony, what the hell are you doing?”

    Ziva tried to help you out. “Leave the poor kid alone.”

    Suddenly, Gibbs entered the room with Hotch. The rest of the BAU were behind them. Before Tony noticed their presence, Gibbs was already behind the movie expert. Tony received a slap to the back of the head.

    Gibbs leveled voice suggested, “Yeah, Tony. Leave Agent Reid alone.”

    Tony grimaced, “Yes, sir.” As he moved to the conference room table, Tony passed by you. He whispered in your ear in his usual, quick way, “You’ll be the dominate one in the relationship.”

    Naturally, you were mortified by his words. How had he figured out so quickly what was going on between you and Spencer? Was it really that obvious? Was it distracting from the case? You hoped it wasn’t. You glanced around. No one seemed to notice Tony’s exchange with you. Except for maybe Gibbs, whom you could’ve almost sworn that he’d shot a knowing smirk in your direction.

    Hotch directed, “Agent L/n, could you tell everyone what you’ve put together?”

    "NCIS’s victim was murdered less that five blocks away from the BAU’s second crime scene. Eleven of the fifteen victims in the fourth crime scene were taken from the same quarter mile radius.”

    Emily Prentiss added, “All of our earlier victims were from all over the state. Do you think our unsub is devolving in that he can’t wait long enough to go too far to find his victims anymore?”

    “Yes,” you agreed, “It would also explain how Colonel Wilfred, the victim from NCIS connects to the other murders without reflecting any of Courbet’s paintings.”

    JJ, suddenly got a notification on her phone. “There’s been two more reports of missing individuals in the same area. Both were white women in their twenties...about 220 ponds...they look like our second and third victims.” She looked worriedly from her phone to you.

    “The Hammock and The Sleeping Spinner...,” you whispered the second and third crimes to yourself in order. “...He could be going after Young Ladies on the Banks of Seine. It makes sense with his running chronological theme. The reason why they look so alike with the previous victims is because it was rumored Courbet used his sisters for a lot of his portraits. Out unsub might be trying to replicate the likeness in Gustave’s muses.”

    Hotch directed, “Alright. We may have some time to save these two women. Spencer, stick with the geographical profiling. Rossi, Prentiss, canvass Jones Avenue through Tenth Boulevard. JJ, Morgan, take Damien Road through Johnson Street. I’ll stay here and run point.”

    Gibbs instructed his own team, “Y/n, stay here and work with Reid. McGee, Tony: Dischem through Clark. Ziva, you and I will take Harren to Williams.”

    With the whole police department, along with most of Gibbs and Hotch’s team canvassing, it was likely the unsub’s house would be found within the following few hours.

    Meanwhile, you and Spencer were back in the nearly empty police station. The two of you were in separate conference room chairs, and you both were staring at that map. It had delivered an extremely helpful break in the case, but it seemed to have done all it could. Hotch was in another room with the police captain, so you and Spencer were left to your own devices.

    That was, until a secretary came running into the conference room. “Help! We need help!”

    Both you and Spencer launched out of your respective seats.

    “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, alarmed.

    The secretary elaborated, “A girl called the tip line. She sounds terrified. She claims to be Samantha Hawford, one of--”

    “the missing women,” both you and Spencer finished with the secretary.

    “Connect us, please,” you requested as calmly as you could.

    She silently nodded, and quickly left the room.

    Seconds later, a line lit up on the phone in the conference room. It turned out to actually be Samantha. She was hysterical, but you eventually got her to calm down enough to communicate.

    Earlier, she had stolen the unsub’s phone, and she was waiting for a safe time to call the tip line she had seen a lot on T.V.

    While you encouraged Samantha to keep talking, Spencer called Garcia. She traced the phone call for the two of you.

    A minute later, you knew where Samantha was. You were on your way out with Spencer when Hotch gave you his blessing to go. It was obvious neither you nor Spencer were going to wait for Hotchner’s agreement.

    You and Spencer were able to get to Samantha's location in fifteen minutes. Which was good because five minutes into your journey, the unsub found Samantha and hung up the phone. You prayed the unsub kept her alive long enough for you and Spencer to get there.

    When the two of you did arrive, the unsub was about to stab the other girl with the first metal rod when you and Spencer found them. He had both the girls tied up as he prepared to stab them with the metal rods and shoot them in the heart.

    At first, Spencer tried to talk him down. It was obvious that it was going no where.

    “I can make sure the world knows of your works of art,” you suddenly lied, surprising yourself. “People took pictures of your crime--masterpieces. They could be hung anywhere and everywhere. You could become even more famous than Corbet. But let me tell you: if you hurt these two girls, no one will ever know who you are. Not your name, and not your face.”

    Chillingly, there was hope in the killer’s eyes. As you’d guessed, he looked a lot like Gustave Courbet himself. You could see why he wanted to use Courbet’s image to make himself famous.

    Eventually, you got the killer to turn over his weapons, and turn himself in. You cuffed him yourself. By then, your team, the local police, and the BAU had arrived. You turned the killer over to the local P.D. The two girls were crying as they thanked you profusely for saving them. You tried to push their attention away from you. It didn’t work too well.

    Once all the chaos was over, you were back at the police station, gathering your things.

    Hotch addressed you, making you turn around. “Agent L/n.”

    “Uh...Yes, sir?”

    His whole team was with him. “We would like to thank you for your work on this case.”

    Morgan complimented, “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

    “Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” you reasoned, “I mean, you guys have Spencer. He probably would've figured things out just as fast as me.. Well, almost as fast  as me.”

    Spencer smiled in a way that was contagious. “Don’t try to brush this off, Y/n. You know how important you are.”

    Hotch continued, “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about. You’ve shown promising capabilities as a profiler, and we want you to know that there’s a place for you on our team.”

    “Wait. On your guys’ team? In the FBI?” You were nearly in shock. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

    JJ offered, “Well, we would really like it if you agreed.”

    “...I can’t. I’m sorry guys, but NCIS is my home. They’re my family there. I mean, honestly, in these past few days, you guys have kind become my family to, but I don’t think I could leave NCIS. At least not right now.”

    For the first time, you saw Aaron Hotchner truly smile. “It’s alright. The job’s here for you whenever you want it.”

    “Thank you.” You were sincerely grateful.

    Thee rest of the team left, but Spencer hung back.

    “You know,” you sweetly took his hand in yours, ”my not joining has nothing to do with you.”

    He squeezed your hand in his. “I know, but it would’ve been nice to see you more often.”

    “I guess we’re going to have to make it work as is,” you smirked.

    Keeping his gaze on your intertwined hands, Spencer chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

    Slowly, you leaned in to kiss the boy.

    At first, Spencer kept his hand in yours. Then, he moved both arms around you, pulling you in close.

    Your hands were o his chest, but you soon snaked them around his neck to get lost in his hair.

    Okay, so you were beginning to regret your choice not to join the BAU just a little bit.

***

    Before you went home that night, you went back to NCIS. Spencer had to go back to Quantico to get some paperwork done, so you couldn’t spend the night with him. You decided to go back to NCIS to do the same thing.

    “Y/n! Y/n, Y/n, Y/n!” Right outside the elevator doors, a certain adorable forensic scientist was waiting for you.

    Practically catching the incoming woman, you tried to keep her steady on her feet. “Hi, Abby! How’ve you been?”

    She was almost vibrating with excitement. “I’m completely fine. It’s you I wanna know about! How were Fornell’s friends at the FBI? Were they mean? They treated you nicely, right?” Abby continued on with the onslaught of questions until you got to your desk.

    When you sat down, you looked up to Abby as you searched your mind for a way to tell her you needed quiet right then.

    Gibbs beat you to it. He had been sitting at his desk. You only noticed him when he gathered his few things to leave. He stopped by your desk and explained, “Abby, it’s late and they’re tired. Leave them alone.”

    With a quick, slightly intimidated glance to Gibbs and a “Sorry, Y/n,” and wave to you, Abby was gone.

    However, Gibbs stayed behind a bit longer to knowingly ask, “So, you didn’t take the job, huh?”

    “No,” you tiredly smiled, “I’m staying right here, boss.”

    It was then that Gibbs did something that he very rarely did. He returned a smile. “Good,” was his final statement before Gibbs left for the night.

***

    In the end, you made sure the killer’s name was never released to the public. You didn’t want anything to be given to the distributed criminal mind. However, you knew that some name needed to be given to the person behind the painting-based murders. You just expected it to have something to do with Gustave Courbet himself. You didn’t expect the previously unknown subject to be called The Chuck E. Cheese Killer. The nickname ended a pizza franchise.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! If you would like to read more, I have more fics over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, multi-chapters, headcannons, and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

*******

(Behind the scenes stuff)

Proofreader: @girl-of-many-faces

Crime scene #1 here

Crime scene #2 here

Crime scene #3 here

Crime scene #4 here

What would’ve been crime scene #5 here

#ncis #ncis x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #gibbs x reader #hotch x reader #friends made along the way #companion jones #Matthew Gray Gubler #mark harmon

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

Pick Your Battles: Part 4/5

Pairing: Five x Reader

“You can make this nice and easy,” the man with the gun had said, but he obviously hadn’t wanted to make it easy. He’d chosen the hard option and not left the diner when Five had given him the option to. Now Five’s going to have to get his hands dirty, and he hasn’t even been back to the future a day. The Commission never sleeps, apparently.

One second Five is snapping the neck of the man that had been trying to run away, and the next a cold barrel is pressed against his head steadily. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins goes cold, all action halted immediately. Even he’s not fast enough to jump if this person pulls the trigger. Not if the barrel’s against his head, not if he can’t see the person’s face to gauge when they’re going to pull it.

“Hands up,” the voice of a female child orders Five, and in shock he puts his hands up. He’s not going to hurt a child, even though he may look like one.

“Do you know what’s going on here?” he asks slowly, not daring to move an inch. “Is the Commission really recruiting children now? That’s low.” He can make out the person’s shadow on the ground, but the flickering lights make it hard for him to make out any details about them.

“I’m not a child,” the person says bitterly, “and neither are you. Now, are you going to comply or not?”

Something about the person’s voice makes Five feel like he knows them. It carries a weird accent not native to where Five lives. He can’t place it, though; who would he know that’s a child? All his siblings are adults now. The only other people he really knows are Y/N and the Handler.

Wait. Y/N. She’d been going to get a new body. And this person has an accent.

Pretty convenient Five’s back in his child body too.

“Y/N?” he asks, hesitant. The gun on his head doesn’t waver.

“Long time no see,” you reply.

Five relaxes, his hands going down, and he turns around. It’s definitely you; there’s that brand on your collarbone you’d said was the symbol of your patron goddess. “Y/N! What are you talking about, it’s only been—” He halts when you load the chamber of the gun, face stone-cold. You’ll shoot. What? “It’s only been a day!”

“It’s been three years,” you snap, “since you left me on that mission to assassinate President John F. Kennedy. Nice to know we’re a team, jackass. What did I do for you to rescind the invitation?”

No doubt it would have been a cutting insult had your voice not broken a tiny bit. Five opens his mouth—it’s been a day; he really was planning on finding you—but you cut him off.

“I’m not even interested in your half-assed excuse. Just come with me.”

Of course the Commission would send Five’s former partner, the one person that would catch him off guard and the only possible person that could kill him. You know all his tricks, and you have far more tricks from your years at the Commission than Five can count. Even if he jumps now, the tracker in his arm will tell them where he is. He jumps and you’ll even be waiting for him wherever he jumps to.

The perks of your enemies being time travelers, Five thinks bitterly. “Okay.”

“Don’t try anything,” you warn. You always could read him. He never could read you.

“I’m not going to,” Five lies.

“You’re lying.”

Five insists, “I’m not! Y/N, you’re my oldest friend—what do you think I’m going to do, kill you?”

“I’d kill you,” you say quietly. “Don’t say for a second you wouldn’t hesitate to kill a friend that was threatening you.”

“Never one for sentiment, were you?”

“I killed my own mother,” you snap. “Who are you to me?”

Five flinches at that, a little bit. Maybe you really didn’t return any of his feelings. He doesn’t want to hurt you, though. He says softly, “Y/N, what’s the Commission done to you?”

“Nothing,” you snap. “You left. You promised that we could stop the apocalypse together and then you left.”

“Y/N, you’ve gotta understand,” Five says desperately, “It’s been a day! I honestly was going to find you!”

“Bull,” you snort. “You haven’t thought about me since you got back. You’re too obsessed with the apocalypse.”

“Just take me back,” Five sighs. He knows you’re suspicious; you possess a talent for spotting liars that would lead him to believe you’re one of the 43 children and that’s your power if you hadn’t been born in Sparta thousands of year before he was.

Like the choreographed fights you two had performed for years while working together, you both lunge at the same time. At the end of the day, Five has superpowers and no matter how skilled you are, you’ll never be able to jump through space and time without a briefcase.

You fire your gun and it grazes Five. He won’t be so lucky next time you shoot and he knows it, so he jumps behind you—you’re already spinning around; you’d seen the way his eyes flickered and you’d seen where he was jumping, but he connects your turning jaw with a heavy dinner plate.

The hit catches you off guard and you take a step back to keep yourself from falling (it’s the first time Five’s managed to throw you off-balance) and fire off another shot just before Five hits you again. If he hadn’t managed to jump just in time, he would have been killed instantly.

Yes, you’re good. But you don’t have superpowers.

Five kneels by your crumpled unconscious form to check if you’re still breathing. You’d taken it easy on him. You’d hesitated. It’s almost as if you’d wanted to be taken captive.

He dismisses that thought. You were willing to help him before. He just needs to explain to you without a gun pointed at his face.

You wake up when people start to argue, but you don’t let anyone know. Experimentally, you tense up and try to move infinitesimally, but your hands are tied behind your back and one of your ankles is tied to something else. You’ve got a sore jaw and a roaring headache. From the feel of things, you’re in a bed. Pain radiates up your right arm from your forearm, right where your Commission tracker is. Probably was, now. It’s wrapped up tightly in some sort of bandage. Yep, definitely was.

Five is good. He really is.

Well, you’ve gotten out of stickier situations. You’re not really sure if you want to get out of this one, though; you’re quickly growing sick of the Commission. The future Five had proposed to you—living out the rest of your lives together, probably sniping at each other, in a world that is decidedly still turning—sounded so good, and you’d gotten your hopes up.

Then he abandons you during one of his missions, and you spend the next three years wondering if he was just waiting until he was left alone to run away. You’d thought you were the one thing keeping him at the Commission, and you were, but not in the way you’d hoped.

Hope. The thing with feathers, or so says Emily Dickinson, and it’s poisoned you. Spartans don’t hope. They go out and get the thing they were hoping for.

“Five, we can excuse a lot of things, but we can’t excuse you kidnapping a child!” a man with a deep voice says, sounding scandalized. You can capitalize on his sympathy for you, you know.

“Y/N’s a child about as much as I’m a child,” Five replies. “She was my partner when I was working at the Commission. She’s going to help us stop the apocalypse.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t you say she was sent to kill you?” another man says. “That doesn’t seem like she cares much about you or the apocalypse.”

“She was willing to help me yesterday,” Five replies. “Or three years ago.”

“What?”

“It was yesterday for me, but, well, for Y/N it’s been about three years since I left. The Commission never sleeps, after all, not even if your partner goes missing.”

A distinctly feminine voice speaks up. “Was it really necessary to knock her out and tie her up? And what’s wrong with her arm?”

“I had to cut her tracker out,” Five replies, to general uproar.

“You can’t cut unconscious people, Five!”

“What tracker?”

“Is that why you’re bleeding too?”

Five yells over the noise, “Shut up!” When everyone quiets, he says slowly, “The Commission puts trackers in every one of its agents ‘if they go missing’.” You can picture him doing the air quotes. “That’s part of the reason, but the real reason is if they run away. Agents do that a lot, actually. And I don’t need them breathing down our necks while we plan how to stop the apocalypse. Y/N, any ideas?”

“Untie me and I’ll share them with you,” you reply in a bored tone, sitting up and opening your eyes. You should have known he’d never believe you’d stay sleeping through all that shouting. You hope nothing on your face gives away how much it hurts to talk around what must be at least a terribly bruised jaw.

An odd assortment of people greet you. You can assume who they are from Five’s stories.

You meet Five’s eyes unflinchingly. Chameleon be damned. Sympathy be damned. You’ll be just as nasty to these people as you want. Five’s likely warned them all about you anyway.

It’s what a Spartan would do. Spartans don’t pretend to be weak.

“How’s your head?” the girl wearing fashionable clothes asks, reaching out for you. You know who she is. You’ve seen part of one of her movies when you had to sneak into a movie theatre to kill a woman with smallpox that threatened to infect young Barack Obama pre-presidency.

“Touch me and I’ll kill you,” you say without looking at her. She recoils instantly. The largest man in the room scowls and opens his mouth to say something, but you keep talking, transferring your gaze to the only other woman in the room. “Ah, and you must be Vanya, correct? I remember Five was always… scribbling in your book. Isn’t it funny when the wolf doesn’t even know it’s a wolf?”

Five’s eyes widen. “She does it? You’ve seen it happen?”

“The White Violin,” you say, dipping your head at Vanya, “it’s an honor to make your acquaintance. Maybe this time around you won’t destroy the world? And will someone untie me?”

It takes a long time for the family to reach the agreement that they would untie you. Between your threats about castrating anyone that touched you without your permission and the bombshell you’d dropped on everyone that’d knocked even Five off his feet, nobody was feeling very huggy towards you.

Except Vanya. Well, she wasn’t feeling huggy, but she completely ignored your threats and asked you what you were talking about.

You’re not dumb enough to threaten the person powerful enough to destroy the world because of a temper tantrum, so you explain to her in clipped sentences and everyone else just listens in.

Only Five hears the strain in your voice, the way you slur your English despite your accent. Nobody else sees the awkward way you hold yourself and your arm. You may be younger now, but he still knows you. It was necessary, he tells himself. The Commission would have found us immediately.

Nearly breaking your jaw wasn’t, but you had been trying to kill him. So maybe it was.

You still know him. He’s been avoiding your accusing gaze since you said that Vanya causes the apocalypse.

The necessity of his actions doesn’t change the guilt that makes his stomach feel upset when he thinks about how the first time you see him in three years he knocks you out, cuts out your tracker, and kidnaps you. Then again, you’ve never been under any delusions that Five would act any other way.

“Look in the journal underneath Leonard’s bed,” you say carelessly. “His real name is Harold Jenkins and he’s just manipulating you until you kill your siblings, by the way. Your father knew about your powers and wrote about it in his journal.”

You get them to untie you through sheer willpower and manipulation alone, and it’s nice to see that you haven’t changed at all. Five’s almost proud of you. It might have only been a day, but god he’d missed you.

You immediately sock Five in the jaw. The Handler wasn’t kidding when she said ‘denser muscles’; he feels like Luther had just hit him.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed at all,” Five mutters and spits a mouthful of blood on the ground.

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl @deathswretch @lightningidiot @five-hg @iamsnek666@ameliatrh @ihatecheesyusernames @dora-the-grownup @emilyt0314

Pick Your Battles Taglist:

@dadzawas-eyebags

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

Five x Reader Taglist:

@statsvitenskap

#tua #the umbrella academy #number five #five hargreeves #five x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #reader insert #reader x five #reader x five hargreeves #reader x number five #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves

[idkbutspencer]

(2) Chess || Criminal Minds

AU: Criminal Minds; female!Reader has been a SSA in the BAU for years now.

Pairing: female!Reader x Team.

Warnings: Strong language, torture scenes.

Tags: @itsmeedee

^If you wanna be tagged in my stuff, just lmk!!^

A/N: hi! here’s my first angst-y fic. I kinda got inspired by this killer from Hawaii Five-0 but twitched it a bit :-) I really hope you enjoy it and remember to let me know if you liked it! :-D Also, i want to thank @itsmeedee for helping me with the correction and changing a few things here and there! and I honestly didn’t know which Gif to put hahah

*English is not my native language. I’m sorry for any mistakes!*

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The massive characters are seared with scars." —Khalil Gibran.

~•~

After traveling from Quantico to Wichita, Y/N's hometown, she found herself nostalgic. Rossi and JJ had been interrogating most of her old neighbors the whole morning but Emily didn't allow her to go.

“This UnSub has an awful fetish with chess pieces," Luke spoke as he started to look through the files.

"Maybe it's not the pieces but the whole game," Rossi stated.

"How so?" Luke asked putting down the file.

"If you look closely," Reid began, drawing lines across the map on the board, "all of the bodies were disposed in the exact order to recreate a chess game." He explained to Alvez, leaving him with the same expression as before and maybe even more confused.

"What they're trying to say is that it's not the branding or torture that gets him off, but by putting all the pieces together on the board, as if he's playing a game," Y/N clarified.

"The guy has been killing for almost ten years now," JJ pointed out. "Since they were all missing persons there was no way the Police Department could’ve linked all the victims together."

"Wait, the board is missing the queen. Maybe he hasn't found the perfect girl to fulfill his fantasy," Luke figured.

"My thoughts exactly," Y/N responded getting up from the table. "Or maybe he has the girl but couldn't dump all the bodies at the same time."

~•~

Emily ordered the team to go get some sleep so the next day they could finally catch the unsub and fly back to Quantico. Y/N had gone to her parents' house to stay the night. Ages had passed since the last time she saw them.

Her parents' house had a long path from the driveway. It was surrounded by bushes and the track was covered with rocks, looking precious during day and kinda creepy at night. As the agent walked through the path, she noticed all of the house's lights were turned off. That meant they had to be sleeping.

The years of experience working with the FBI taught her how to acknowledge when she's being followed. By instinct, she placed her hand on her holster but slowly took it off. She was trying to make herself believe that no one was behind her. The thought faded away along with her sight as someone grabbed her from behind and covered her nose and mouth with a cloth.

~•~

"Wh... Where am..." Y/N faltered, her eyes wide open yet she couldn't see a damn thing. It was all dark and blurry.

"Shh. Shut up," a hair-raised voice fulfilled the room, making the agent tremble. "My queen."

She felt her heart skip a beat. Those two words made her realize that she needed to find a way to escape from the UnSub and quick. Y/N tried to move but failed, only hearing the loud noises of the chains clanking above and below her. She had chains all over her body.

Suddenly the floor began to glow. The floor had a checkered design, just like a chess board. When her sight started to clear up, she saw him. "Dickinson? What the hell?" she asked. Her old neighbor James Dickinson moved towards the agent.

"That's right, Y/N," he spoke, running his hand down her chin, "I said that you’d will always be my queen.”

"Why did you kill all those people?" she asked, trying to move her face away.

"How else would you have come to your little neighborhood and visit your old friend?" he argued, "Ever since you became an FBI agent you don't come to Wichita. Not even for your own family, Y/N. Did you ever think that if I ever called you saying I wanted to play a quick match with you, you would've come? How foolish!"

James grabbed the chain that was around her waist and pulled it moving her around the "board". "You're hurting me, Jamie..." Y/N groaned, a few silent tears rolling down her face.

"Oh, so now we're using nicknames?" he buffed, "Let's see how friendly you get when you officially become my queen."

"No, wait! Come back!" Y/N screamed as Dickinson left the room, slamming the door on his way out, "James, let me go!"

~•~

"I need to talk to an FBI agent! It's urgent!" a woman screamed inside the police station, catching Emily's attention.

"Ma'am the agents are busy right now," the police officer said as he held her back.

"My sister's in danger!" The lady interrupted, "She told me if she ever got into danger to immediately talk to any of the BAU agents. Please..."

Emily looked at her teammates to see if anyone was hearing the outrage. None of them was paying attention. She stood up and walked outside the conference room. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. May I help you?" She asked the lady.

"Oh my god, yes! Please, my sister's been kidnapped," the lady informed Emily as she began to cry.

"What's your sister's name?" Emily asked, making signs to another officer to take notes.

"Y/N Y/L/N..." Her voice cracking as she spoke. Emily's face changed drastically when she heard the name. She immediately informed the whole team about the situation. They wanted to interrogate Y/N’s sister on what she knew.

~•~

Dickinson took a hot branding iron with a queen chess piece form and pressed it onto Y/N's hip. The iron burned her skin causing her to cry out in pain. "Son of a--" she hissed.

"Watch it," he interrupted her, "Now let's play.” He says standing up. “ What's your first move, Y/N?"

"Handcuffing you so you can rot in jail," she barked with repugnance.

"Wrong answer," he snapped, tightening the chains around her waist. "Are you going to cooperate or must I give you a free waist reduction?"

"E-four," the agent mumbled.

"Now we're talking," he rejoiced letting her down abruptly on the floor.

Her hands were numb, still tied up tight; though she wasn’t hanging anymore. Y/N started to think that maybe if she kept "playing" until her team rescued her, then she might not end up dead.. He said earlier that he killed those people just to get her to come here.

The room looked familiar to her. It felt like she'd been there multiple times. Everything was dark except for the floor. It was hard to recognize the place. "Think wisely," he articulated as he walked around her. "You don't want to let your queen be killed. I mean, yourself."

He started to laugh like the lunatic that he was. Y/N closed her eyes trying to keep focus but with all the dizziness it seemed to be impossible for her. From the distance, the sirens could be heard, making her open her eyes. James heard the agents coming too, so he quickly grabbed a gun from a little table and hung up Y/N again. He took her by the neck and pressed the gun against her sphenoid.

"FBI, drop your weapon!" Rossi shouted as he and Prentiss entered the room. JJ and Reid followed in suit.

"Come on, James," Prentiss quickly looked at Rossi and slowly put her gun down. "You don't wanna do this. Just put the gun down."

"I don't wanna do this!? You sure about that!?" he screamed, pressing the gun against Y/N's head harder, making her cry.

"Yes, we are sure, James. You don't wanna hurt Y/N because you love her," JJ approached. "How are you going to show her your love if you kill her?"

"I... I," James stuttered, loosening his grip on the gun. "Y/N, I love you and if you're not by my side, then I don't wanna live at all."

Dickinson quickly turned the gun to his throat and shot himself before anyone made a move. The team ran towards Y/N and unlocking the chains. They comforted her as she began to cry.

~•~

On their way home, no one wanted to say a word about what happened. Y/N pretended to be fine, but she wasn't. Everyone wanted to ask what they could do, but none knew how. When they entered the BAU, Garcia was already waiting for them with consolation cookies. She hugged Y/N, making her groan a bit. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She apologized. "I'm just glad that you're okay. That you all are in fact."

"It's okay," Y/N mumbled. "Thanks for the cookies." Penelope smiled, handing her the plate.

"Before you all go," She began, making everyone stop what they were doing and listen to her. "I just wanted to say sorry..."

"What? Why could you possibly be sorry?" Luke had asked.

"I knew James had an obsession with the whole game thing and I didn't say anything," She explained. "He was my best friend when I was young, so I couldn't connect the cables. He was so sweet and I don't know... Normal?"

"Hey, don't blame yourself," JJ said, getting closer to her and rubbing her back, "there's no way you could have known."

#criminal minds #fanfiction #jennifer jareau #reader x team #emily prentiss #spencer reid #dave rossi #angst #fiction #idkbutspencer #reading #luke alvez #penelope garcia #bau #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

I’m Dating Spider-Woman

A/n: hey everyone! So the fic I posted last night was supposed to be a one shot but somebody made a comment that absolutely inspired me! So I had to make another part to the story.

Part 1

Warnings: lots of fluff! Feel good shit.

Word count: 1441

Concept: After telling Kate you’re spider-woman and admiring you have feelings for her you wanted to make sure she had the best Christmas ever.

Taglist: @imapotatao @kacka84 @sofisnn @hoeforwandanat @variant-l0852 @mellowladyangel @violetwitchmcu @m-zne237 @laaurrel @chloe7076 @miphas-trident @chickenlittlsblog @sapphic-girl @simp4haiz @hardwastelandbread @thorya22 @kassies-take

It had been about a week since you told Kate you were spiderwoman, more importantly it’s been about a week since the two of you admitted your feelings to each other. What you were hoping would be a week in paradise with Kate, a honeymoon phase if you will, turned out to be packed with bad guys and kicking ass. You helped Kate and Clint take down Kingpin and the tracksuits in order to clear their names and ensure nobody is in harm's way anymore. Clint’s mom was unfortunately wrapped up in some pretty bad stuff so she was put away in jail and this was going to be Kate's first Christmas without both of her parents. Clint headed back to his home to see his family and you knew you had to make this Christmas amazing for her.

Since you told Kate you were spider woman she has been obsessing over it. What she would give to tell the world she was dating spider-woman. While she already had feelings for you as y/n y/l/n before, everything was heightened when she found out. She has been BEGGING you non-stop to take her swinging around New York for the last week but you guys just haven’t had time because of all the bad guys running around. So, you knew you had to somehow work that into your Christmas plans for her. That and the infamous Spider-Man upside down kiss of course that we saw all over the news a while back when Spider-Man did it with some person. Since Kate was still your best friend before being your girlfriend, you had already gotten her some Christmas presents but there was one more you had to get that caught your eye. You were stopping a robbing happening in a jewelry store on 82nd street. While you were in between punches you noticed the most beautiful necklace. It was a small silver pendant that had a web engraved into it with a diamond sitting in the middle. You knew how badly Kate wanted to tell people she was dating spiderwoman and you figured this little necklace would be like your little secret with her. The meaning behind it, that is. So, on your way back to the apartment you pick it up in the most beautiful little box. You’re practically skipping to your place you were so eager.

Kate was at her mom's place all morning trying to clean out some stuff to bring home so this was the perfect opportunity to get everything prepared. As soon as you got home you set up the tree, wrapped all the gifts and even started baking some of her favourite home made cookies so that the smell was intoxicating as soon as she stepped through that door. Everything was perfect and you couldn’t have been happier. You could hear Kate coming down the hallway and her keys making noise as they entered the lock. You immediately got into position above the door. As she opened it, you slowly lowered yourself upside down.

“AHHH.” Kate screamed because you startled her as she managed to land a punch right in your chest.

You cough and drop to the ground not having expected that, she knocked the wind out of you.

“Oh shit— y/n I am SO sorry! I thought you were an intruder, I’ve been kind of on edge since fighting Fisk and I— woahhhhh did you do all of this?” She says gesturing towards the decorations.

“Yeah—” you say in pain.

“Shoot, I’m sorry.” She says trying to help you up.

“I just wanted to make sure that you had a special Christmas.”

“Wait— were you trying to do the upside down Spider-Man kiss thing with me?”

“Yeah…” you say awkwardly while scratching the back of your head.

“Awe babes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin that.”

“Kate, stop apologizing. I know you didn’t mean to punch me, love.” You say with a chuckle. “How about we just move past it and get this night started hmm?”

“Okay.” She says with a smile.

You pull the cookies out of the oven and they’re baking to perfection. You had a pizza on the way, one for you and one for the dog and margaritas ready to be made. As the night progressed you two had a lot of fun drinking, eating and you finally got around to opening presents. Kate was pretty tipsy by this point but your tolerance is incredibly high because of the spider powers. Watching her stumble slightly is adorable. She gets extremely affectionate with you when she’s intoxicated. All she wants to do is cuddle and kiss you all over the place. The two of you opened all your presents and there was wrapping paper everywhere. Kate was loving every single thing you bought her, and you the same.

“There’s one more gift.” You say extending your hand. Kate grabs it and stands up. “Follow me”

You bring her to the roof where you lay a kiss on her in the moonlight as snow is falling around the two of you. “Okay Kate, on a scale of 1-10 how drunk are you because I don’t need you puking on me.”

“Puking on you..? Wai— ARE WE GOING SWINGING?”

You just chuckle. “1-10 babes?”

“Hmmm a 3. I’ll be okay yeah yeah don’t worry! Let’s go!”

“Okay! You ready?”

“Ready.” She says in an eager tone.

You jump off the top of your apartment building with her arms and legs wrapped around you. You swing from building to building as you can hear Kate practically fangirling in your ear as you’re doing so. You swing to the top of the Brooklyn bridge where you set her down. The two of you felt like you were standing on the top of the world.

“Wow, y/n this is beautiful and this experience, my god it’s surreal.”

“This is my absolute favourite place to be. When I’m out doing spider-woman stuff and need to relax I come here or when I need to ever clear my head, I come here. It’s just the most relaxing place I’ve ever been and it probably helps that the view is so amazing. But now that you’re here with me, I have something so much more beautiful to look at.”

Kate blushes and tries to chuckle to hide how embarrassed she was from the shade of red she was turning. “Oh stop it, you’re so cheesy you know that?”

“I can’t help it. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh also I may have lied earlier…there’s one more gift I have for you.” You say pulling the jewelry box out of your pocket.

“Y/n oh my gosh this is too much you already gave me so much this Christmas.”

“Yeah yeah I know but those were all gifts I bought you before we were together. Now that you’re my girlfriend I wanted to buy you something extra special.” You say as you give her the small box.

Kate slowly unwraps the bow and and lifts the lid to the small box.

You see her eyes glaze over as she realizes what she’s looking at.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She says in the most heartfelt tone.

“I just thought that you knowing that I’m spiderwoman now was such a huge step for our relationship and I am so thankful that I have a friend now girlfriend that cares so much for me and keeps my secret. It really does mean the world to me.” You say trying not to get too emotional. “Here, let me help.” You say as she hands you the necklace. Kate turns around and pulls her hair to the side as you clip it together on the back of her neck.

“You look beautiful.” You say with a smile.

“I love it and you, so much.”

“I love you too.” You say. “Wait I’ll be right back—”

“Wha-What okay, I guess.” Kate says as you jump off the bridge.

You swing up to the top of the pillars above the two of you and slowly web yourself down. As you come down you pull something out of your pocket.

“Please don’t punch me this time.” You say as you hold a mistletoe out in front of you.

Kate turns around and just chuckles as she sees you hanging from upside down. She grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss.

This right here was the best moment of your life and you knew it was hers too.

— The End —

#kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop #hailee steinfeld smut #hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfeld #emily dickinson fic #emily dickinson smut #emily dickinson angst #emily dickinson x female reader #wlw #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel

[i-do-it-for-the-gays]

Listen, if she wouldn’t barrel-roll, somersault her way into busy New York traffic to save a dog is she even worth your time?

#these are my thoughts #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel characters #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye disney+ #kate x yelena #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop marvel #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x female reader #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld x reader #emily junk #emily dickinson