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nerdyfangirl67 · 3 years

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With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

@madamsnape921 @ncisfan @thisiscalm-andits-doctor

#ncis #ncis fandom #ncis fanfic #ncis fanfiction #ncis female reader #ncis female reader insert #ncis reader #ncis reader insert #ncis team x reader #tim #tim mcgee #timothy mcgee #mcgee #tim mcgee x reader #tim mcgee x female reader #tim mcgee x you #mcgee x reader #mcgee x fem!reader #tim mcgee reader insert

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sydnee-kom-spacekru · 3 years

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Cosmically Connected (Spencer Reid x Reader Fluff)

Disclaimer: The first part of this one-shot is a rewrite of @reidsnose one shot, Cosmically Connected. This is in no way meant to steal credit from them, or steal their work. This is merely a rewrite and extension. I have permission to rewrite this.

Summary: Reid doesn't believe in soul mates, and you convince him. After, you go and watch movies and he reads to you, and things are said.

Warnings: FLUFF, slight language, makes me want to scream just starting to write it, etc. Nothing bad.

A/n: Idk if Reid has watched Harry Potter. So let's just say he hasn't. This is set in season 5. F/c stands for favorite color.

Requested: No. Well, by me but that's it.

The BAU was had an unusually slow day. Paperwork and jokes were all that went on.

It was just you, Garcia, and Reid left. Even though it was only six in the evening.

You were coming back from the restroom when you heard a loud bang! You panicked, and rushed to the cubicles, getting ready to pull out your gun.

After you realized that nothing was wrong, you noticed that Garcia was the source of the loud noise. She had slammed her hands down on Reid's desk.

You sighed out of relief, "What the hell?" It was part relief, part anger at them for causing you such grief.

Garcia stood straight up, pointing at Reid, who looked amused. "Him." Was all she said.

"Uhm," You breathed out a laugh. "You'll have to fill me in." You were smiling, you adored the people in front of you.

"He, he doesn't believe in soulmates, Y/n. Soulmates! What kind of person..." She trailed off, sitting down in your chair.

Spencer just shrugged, smiling. "I am a man of science, Garcia! And science says no."

You hummed, and he turned towards you, "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice got higher as he went on.

"Because," you said, leaning against his desk. ""Science Man", science says "yes"."

"Oh! Y/n told me about this last Tuesday!" She turned towards you. "You remember, I said you sounded just like boy genius over here." She giggled and waved you on.

You nodded and stood up, stealing Reid's glasses, putting them on. Reid just smiled at you, laughing making you snort.

"Now tell me!" He said impatiently.

"I am, calm down!" You cleared your throat. "So, you know when the big bang or whatever caused the creation of the universe, there were all sorts of molecules and space dust that was together at one point, broke apart. I'm accurate so far, yes Mr. Science Man?" You smirked.

"It's Doctor. And, yes?" He glanced to the sides.

You snickered, then continued. "The whole universe is made of such particles?"

"You're correct."

"And humans are made of previously mentioned space dust?"

"Yeah, that's right." He said cautiously.

"So two people could be made of the sae space dust that was once whole?" He sputtered, you smiled. You knew you had him.

"Y-yeah, I guess that could happen."

"In such a case, these two space dust beings are cosmically connected. They are bound together from the beginning by the beginning." You watched as he slowly became more impressed. "These two souls are connected. In other words;" You paused, wiggling your fingers and underlining the imaginary word, "soulmates!"

You sat back, satisfied with the effect that the words had on him. You knew his brain was racing, you could tell. You watched him as he worked this in his brain. You loved to just watch him think, to exist, every little thing he did brought a blush to your face. Never in your life had you met a person quite like Doctor Spencer Reid. It was quite embarrassing, actually. To have such a ginormous crush on one of your co-workers.

But, you shook off your euphoria, you were convinced he didn't feel the same way. As long as you could be his friend, you were content enough, for now.

He kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to think of something to say. He felt as if you had electrocuted him, but in a good way. A refreshing way. "I-, I can't believe it, Y/n."

"Ha! You did it, Y/n! You proved our very own resident genius wrong!" She smiled an award winning smile, flashing all of her teeth at you.

"So," You grinned at him. "Wha'd'ya say, Brainiac? Convinced yet?"

"Well, Y/n, science is science. Soulmates are true." He cracked a goofy smile.

But what you didn't know is that it wasn't your lecture that convinced him. It was the fact that he believed that he had found his soulmate, right then and there. It was you.

Spencer realized as you were telling him, the way you looked at him, with complete adoration, he thought he was going to melt. He felt his heart rate speed up as he thought about the last couple of weeks, how you were there for him when he needed someone most. How he loved to be around you, how he longed to be. How he felt warm inside when you were around, how he loved every little thing about you. He was then hit with a sudden realization. He loved you.

"Yes!" You practically screamed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He realized that it had only been two seconds, two seconds of him thinking of everything about you.

You jumped off of his desk, and hugged Garcia, who had stood up. You pulled back, now you were both chanting "Science says soulmates! Science says soulmates!" You sat down, and Garcia pushed you in your chair around the office.

Garcia pushed you down the hallway, the sound of you guys' laughter fading off.

Morgan came into the office, slapping Reid on the back, laughing. "When are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know, probably never. Maybe not even then." Reid shrugged. Then, desperate to change the subject, he quickly said, "By the way, what are you doing here, Morgan?"

"No no no, Man! Don't change the subject. Why not?"

Reid turned red, "She isn't into me like that, Morgan. You've seen the guys she's gone out with." He scoffed.

Morgan sat down, getting serious. "Come on, Reid. You're a profiler, you have to know she's into you." Spencer just shrugged, but enjoyed the idea of you liking him back.

Morgan just hung his head, laughing. He stood up. "I can't wait to tell you I told you so."

"Then you'll be waiting for a long time."

"Ah! But not forever, Pretty Boy. Not forever!" He laughed as he walked out.

Reid laughed, but a small smile tugged at his lips at the idea of a relationship with you.

"Damn it." You sighed in resignation at your phone. You were getting ready to leave, to head to a friends house. Have a Harry Potter Marathon, watch all of them consecutively. You baked 200 cookies, literally.

And they just cancelled on you. You spun in your chair, you were disappointed to say the least. You've had this planned for a month.

Reid walked up behind you, peering over your shoulder. "What's the matter?"

You sighed, leaning your head back and looking at him. "It's nothing, my friend just cancelled on me. She's sick." He pursed his lips, "Oh, I'm sorry Y/n." You shrugged.

"Can I do anything for you?" He sat down in his desk, which was in front of yours, facing you. You guys only had laptops, so it was easy to see over them.

You thought as you packed your stuff. You both headed to the door, it was dark even though it was only seven. It was November. "I guess you could come over and help me eat all of the cookies I made. And you could have a Harry Potter marathon with me." You grinned, looking up at him.

"Okay," he paused. "How many movies are there?" You stopped as you came to your car.

"Have you never seen or read Harry Potter?"

"No, it didn't interest me." You raised your eyebrows.

"Okay, then we'll start the books tonight." You stated, and opened the passenger seat for him.

The ride to your apartment was quiet, The Arctic Monkeys played softly in the background. It started to sprinkle. You were nearly home, maybe five minutes.

"Hey Spencer?" You started.

"Hmm?" He turned to face away from the window and look at you.

"Do you really believe in soulmates now?" You shifted in the driver seat, glancing over at him.

He didn't hesitate to answer, "Yes." His breathing had sped up. "Uhm, Actually," You came to a stop at the red light, and turned up the heat, it was cold. "I think that I've met mine." He barely blinked as he waited for your reaction.

Your heart sunk, but you recovered. Quickly telling yourself it was never going to happen anyways. "Really?" You voice sounded unnatural, but you didn't know how to fix it. "Who is it?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure I want to tell anyone just yet."

You swallowed, and resumed driving after a car behind you honked at you.

You waved at them as they passed you by, mouthing "Sorry."

You pulled into the parking garage, taking out an umbrella from the trunk. You could hear the rain beating down on the floors above you. Spencer got out of the car, coming up beside you and putting his hand on your shoulder, making you shiver. "I'm sorry, I didn't bring an umbrella." He shouted over the thunder, but at the lat second it ended, and his voice echoed throughout the garage. A mother holding her baby glared at him, and he whispered sorry. After she was gone, you both burst out laughing.

"That's alright," you said as soon as you calmed down. "We can share. But you have to hold it, my arm would get tired." You smiled at him, handing him the umbrella. He unravelled it, and it had a hole in it. Right in the center.

"Oh no." You said, dragging out the 'o', groaning. "It's too big, it wouldn't cover us up anyways. I hope you have extra clothes." You chuckled.

"Wait," He shrugged off the trench coat he was wearing, and held it over both of you. "There we go." He sounded proud of himself. You just giggled at him, and held yours and his things close to you.

You ran across the street, trying to keep up with Reid.

You flopped down on your couch, Reid stood there awkwardly with the sopping coat. "Shoot! Sorry, here give it to me." You stood up and reached for it, and went to put it into the washer.

"It should be done pretty quick," you hollered from the laundry room, "my washer and dryer-" You turned around, then yelled. Reid was standing right there.

"Jesus! Spencer you scared the living hell out of me!" You smacked his chest.

"Sorry, I heard you talking and I came back here..." He backed up to let you by.

You sighed, laughing and turning on the heat. It was freezing in your apartment. "Come on, I have literally over two hundred cookies in my kitchen, and I have the first book in my room." You point out the kitchen, and tell him to grab the cookies.

You went to your room, looking through your book shelves for the first book. "Ah-ha!" You whisper shouted to yourself, you had found the Sorcerer's Stone. You grabbed it off the shelf, and went back down the hallway.

"Hey, Spence! I found..." You trailed off as you found Spencer on the floor in your living room, with a large plate piled high of the different kinds of cookies you made. He was watching some random movie that was on. You just set the book down on the table, and sat down next to him, taking a cookie off the plate. He smiled close lipped at you, "These cookies are so good, Y/n." He looked adorable, he was so happy. You couldn't help but look at him for a little while, he kept laughing at random parts in the movie.

About an hour and forty-six (Spencer counted) cookies later, the movie was over. "I need to go shopping, so I don't have very much food in here besides leftovers." You said, opening the fridge. It was nearly empty, day-old Chinese, a small bottle of orange juice, and just a smidge of cookie dough. "Do you wanna order some pizza?"

You heard Spencer get up and enter the kitchen. "Do what? I heard you say that you had leftovers, but not the second part."

You turned around. "I asked," you paused, turning around and closing the fridge. "If you wanted to order pizza. Or I could just drop you off at your apartment." You added the last part quickly, not thinking about it until the last second. You walked back to the living room, sitting down sideways on the loveseat, your feet up on the second cushion. He came and picked up your feet, sat down, and put them back on his lap.

"We can order pizza, what kind do you want?" He asked you. You shrugged.

"How about we just get hot wings." You suggested.

"Okay."

"Oh my God, my mouth is on fire." You laughed. "We shouldn't have gotten the ghost pepper flavour."

Spencer was whining, waving his hands in front of his mouth. You burst out laughing, he glared at you but he was smiling. "Hey! This isn't funny."

You groaned, drinking some water. "Shit. That didn't help." You whined, sticking out your tongue. Spencer had gone to your kitchen, you didn't notice.

"I found Orange Juice. Can I have some?" He asked, faking desperation. It was a cheep little bottle, one you get from the dollar store.

"Yeah, just don't drink it all." He took a long drink, and handed it to you. He sighed in relief.

"It's better. Did you know, the reason the orange juice helps is because of the..." You weren't listening. You weren't trying to be rude, but you were just focused on the orange juice. You finished the small bottle and set it down on the table next to the empty container that smelled spicy. You laid down on the loveseat, closing your eyes for a second. It was only ten, but you were unusually sleepy.

"...Neat, right?" You just nodded. You were sleepy, and you still wanted to read with Spencer.

"Y/n? Are you tired?" He sat down in the space between the coffee table and the loveseat, and you felt his put his hand on your cheek, rubbing over your cheekbone with his thumb. You opened your eyes, a sleepy smile on your face.

"I have to take you home." You said, but made no move to get up.

"Hey, shh." He brushed your hair out of your face, causing you to turn red. "I can sleep on the couch here tonight."

You sighed contently, "You should come read Harry Potter to me." You whispered. You were in a daze, half asleep and unsure if this was real or not.

"Okay." Reid whispered, and waited a few seconds. When you didn't move, he reached under your head, and your legs. Then picked you up.

You woke with the sudden movement, "Sorry, you can put me down now." He set you down in the hallway, and you stumbled to your room. You pulled back the f/c blanket, and laid down. You patted the spot next to you, and he climbed in next to you.

You scooted closer to him, snuggling into his side. "Can you read to me please?" He nodded, not that you could see, but started reading.

""Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."" He started playing with your hair mindlessly, lulling you to sleep even faster.

"Spence." You looked up at him, your eyes were droopy. He raised his eyebrows, asking you what was wrong. "Can you sleep in here, please?"

"Yeah, I will." He said gently. You nodded, and laid back down. You barely heard the rest of the first paragraph.

You were running through a hallway. The lights flashing. Someone was chasing you, screaming things at you. But you couldn't hear, it was like the words were blurred. You glanced back, he was right behind you. You tried to run faster, but when you turned back around, there was blood spattered everywhere. It made you stumble. The unsub caught up with you, tackling you to the floor. He grabbed onto your neck, and bashed your head into the ground-

You woke up with a jolt, terrified, in a cold sweat. You grabbed onto Spencer in pure reflex, waking him up. He sat up quickly, reaching over to turn the light on. It let off a soft light, and you saw the book on your bedside table with a bookmark in near the end.

"What's wrong?" He cupped your face in his hands, brushing your hair out of your face.

Your breathing was shallow, and your heart was racing. You were having a minor panic attack. "Spence," You breathed out, it was like you couldn't stop moving, you had to convince yourself you were safe. "I can't- I can't- I can't breathe." You were sweating, horrified that the unsub was going to find you.

He held you close, trying to soothe you. "I need you to breathe with me, Y/n." Your chest was heaving, you struggled to get your breathing under control. You nodded, and tried to breathe with him as he showed you to breathe in and out. You were tugging at the bottom of your shirt, until Spencer grabbed your hands in his and started covering them.

"You'll be alright," he whispered, pulling you close again. You had calmed down, now silent tears were falling down your face. You were just trying to listen to the sound of his heart beating.

"Do you want to talk about it? Talking about your feelings actually have positive effects. Talking leads to Catharsis, which is the feeling of relief." He toys with your hair while you tell him about the nightmare. "I'm so sorry."

He pulled away from you, looking at you. "I just want you to know, I will never let that happen to you." You pulled him back to you, you probably looked like a mess. "What time is it?"

"It's one in the morning."

"Can we go back to sleep, please?" He nodded, and lay back, taking you with him. You sniffed. "Can you read, please?" He reached over to grab the book, and resumed reading.

"I'm on the last page, I hope you don't mind that I read ahead."

"Of course not, I'm surprised you didn't finish the entire series."

He laughed a little, then five minutes later, ""...I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer. . ."" You sighed, you were calm now. Still shook up from the nightmare, but calm.

"Do you have the nightmares often?" He whispered to you, tracing circles on your back.

"Yeah, almost every night." Your eyes were closed, and you were close to sleep. He lifted his head up, hesitated and laid back down.

Another ten minutes went by, you were nearly asleep when you heard Spencer say something. "You're my space dust." He sounded groggy, and you had convinced yourself he was sleep talking. But you still hoped.

You woke up to your alarm at seven-thirty. You were laying on top of Spencer, between his legs. "Sorry. Do you want me to drive you home so you can change?"

"How about we call in sick, it's just paperwork today." He sounded tired.

"Okay, I'll text Hotch." Though neither of you made a move to actually text him for another hour. When you did, he just smiled at his phone. The entire team had suspicions about the two of you, although you had never acted on it.

After, you both just laid there together, until you remembered what you thought you heard last night.

"Spencer?" You asked hesitantly.

"What's up, Y/n?" You were laying next to him, head on his chest. His arms were wrapped around you, which is weird. Because he's generally not very touchy.

"I think you said something last night. But I'm not sure that I heard you correctly..." You were timid, and you felt him tense up.

"W-what do you think y-you heard?" He stopped moving completely now, but you were very fidgety.

"I don't want this to ruin our friendship, but I thought I heard you say that I was your space dust. D-did you say that? Do you mean that- that..." You rambled on, just until Spencer interrupted you.

"Y/n." You stopped talking, and you both sat up. "I mean it like that." You sucked in a breath.

"I need to hear it." Your voice was shaky, and your throat was burning. But you didn't want to cry, you couldn't cry in front of him again.

He grabbed your hands in his, took a deep breath, and "Y/n, I-I love you." You couldn't help it, you pulled him to, and pressed your lips to his. It was like fireworks had gone off.

Your stomach was turning, Spencer had one hand on the back of your neck, and the other was holding one of yours. You had never kissed anyone and felt something deep inside you like this.

You pulled away from him, smiling. "You're my space dust too, Spence." And you gave him one last kiss before getting up and going to make breakfast

AHHHH IT'S FINISHED lmk if you like it

#spencer x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid fluff

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rafecameron · 3 years

Text

dancing on my own

request: Angst with no happy ending? How abt *insert actor/character* getting married and their ex (the reader) kinda 'forcing herself' to go to the wedding bc she really wants to see their mutual friends again but like doesn't wanna see the wedding. And reader just watching the love of their live get married and be happy with someone else and their heart silently being ripped apart? Too cruel?

pairing: ex!luke patterson x reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: heartbreak, no happy ending

a/n: here you go cruel anon. turns out im not that great at heartbreak but hopefully this makes your heart crack a little bit. (also idk if people read authors notes but my requests are currently closed!)

Y/N thought back on all the times she could have turned around. When she was getting into her car. When she reached the airport. When she queued to board the plane. When she checked into her hotel. When she began to get ready. Now she was facing the very last time she could turn around. Stood outside the venue, all dressed up with no one to walk her inside. But just like the times before, she didn’t turn around, she pushed on. Her heart breaking a little more with each step, she knew that surely by the end of the night there would be nothing left but crumbs. She had promised herself two things before this trip. Number one; she would not speak to him. Number two; she would not cry. She wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to keep either of the promises to herself, but repeating them in her head made her feel that little bit calmer.

She situated herself beside a table lined with drinks, helping herself to a flute of champagne. She was anxious for the doors to be opened so she could find a seat, somewhere in a corner at the back would suit her just fine. Out of sight of anyone who would surely recognise her, she had no intentions of engaging in conversation until the reception. But seeing as what was happening today she should have known it would be her unlucky day.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a voice speaks beside her and she turns, landing eyes on someone she had not seen for far too long. His suit was tailored perfectly to his body, his long hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He pulls her into a hug.

“I wasn’t sure I would either,” she admits as she pulls away, “I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to see everyone...most people.”

Willie laughs softly, “I’m glad you’re here, sit beside me?” He asks, motioning with his head towards the doors that were being pulled open.

“Oh, I was just gonna sit in the back,” she stumbles over her words as Willie takes ahold of her hand, “Aren’t you going to sit with Alex?”

“He’s preoccupied.” Willie states simply, ignoring her protests as he pulls her towards the front of the room to take a seat in the front row.

She sighs as she sits down beside him. The sick feeling in her stomach growing as the room slowly became more and more full, people lining up on the benches and getting ready to watch the ceremony.

Willie reaches down and takes ahold of her hand again, giving it a light squeeze and offering a comforting smile, “You don’t have to stay.” He whispers.

“I do.” She nods, “I want to see everyone, I won’t stay all day but I need to at least say hello now I’m here.”

Willie nods his head, squeezing her hand one last time and patting her knees before turning back to face forward, the ceremony would be starting any minute and she found that her eyes were glued to the pattern on the floor.

For the entirety of the ceremony she didn’t look up. She didn’t want to risk meeting his eyes, didn’t want to see her friends sympathetic looks and definitely didn’t want to see the bride looking beautiful in her white dress. She tried her best not to listen, she couldn’t stomach hearing the vows and knew if she heard the words I do in his voice she’d cry. So she thought about anything else but what was happening in front of her.

She finally looked up when the couple was safely past her line of sight, eyes instantly meeting that of an old blonde friend. He gave her a wave, she was sure the smile was supposed to make her feel better but she just felt more pathetic. Why was she even here? She’s sure the invite was out of politeness and not an actual invitation to come. And if her friends were going to be tiptoeing around her and treating her like a porcelain doll she wasn’t sure she could cope. The nicer people were to her about this the more likely it was she would break down.

She didn’t want to think about it, about him, sure she was at his wedding but that didn’t mean this day had to be about him. She wanted to have a catch up with her friends, avoid her ex the whole night and then go back home, cry with a bottle of wine and forget this whole thing ever happened.

“I’m glad you came.” Alex says as he reaches her, pulling her into a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” She responds truthfully, “Can we go to the reception? I think I need a drink already.”

Alex laughs, taking Willies hand in his own and leading the way towards the after party. The amount of people that were there she was sure she would be able to avoid the groom for the night. She found herself situated on a table with her friends, helping herself to a glass of wine and making sure the bottle was kept close to her.

No matter how excited she was to see her friends she found that now she was here she was finding it hard to hold a conversation. The group around her were still familiar with each other, still seeing each other and having things to talk about, she felt a little like a spare part. But still she smiled along and listened to their conversation. Something about a recent party they had attended where Reggie had drank a little too much, she laughed along with them unsure of what else to do. The more they spoke and tried to involve her in the conversation the more she realised she didn’t really know the people around her anymore. Sure she had good memories with them and she would always consider them her friends, but she didn’t really know them.

The best thing about weddings it that you can be invisible if you wanted to be. The bride and groom were always busy, everyone wanting to talk to them and congratulate them, and the drunker the guests got the easier it was to slip away from conversations and merely watch the scenes unfold. Which is exactly what she did. She watched her friends get drunk and progressively louder, not noticing anymore if she wasn’t joining in their conversation. If the night continued this way she was certain she would make it out in one piece.

She thought she was doing a pretty good job of avoiding the one person she feared seeing the most. But halfway through the night a hand landed on her shoulder and a familiar scent filled her nose. She felt her skin ignite where his fingers touched and she begged the butterflies in her stomach to go away, to fly away and disappear forever.

Turning in her seat she finally meets his eyes for the first time that night, forcing a smile onto her face as she stands up and allows him to pull her into a hug. Her heart hammers in her chest and she uses every ounce of will power within her to not shed any tears, she felt the epitome of pathetic. Wanting to cry at a wedding like she was in a bad romcom movie. Only if this were a movie she’d get the guy, or a second guy would come sweep her off her feet and make her forget the first one was ever there. She didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Thanks for coming.” Luke smiles, “You look great, that colour really suits you.”

She returns his smile with a tight lipped one of her own, “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She attempts a light hearted laugh.

She looked away, she couldn’t stand looking into his eyes any longer, his gaze intense and stirring way too many different emotions inside of her. She wanted him to be horrible to her, to tell her to leave and never come back, not to tell her she looks great. How was she ever supposed to get over him when he was nothing but nice to her all the time. She wished he had done something at the end to allow her to hate him. Cheat on her maybe, or tell her he never loved her, then maybe she’d stand a tiny chance of getting over him and moving on with her life. Instead he was selfish and kept her at arms length because he knew he always could and that should have been enough for her to stay away, but she just couldn’t.

“Congratulations,” she looks back at him, eyes settling just above his to avoid his gaze, “You seem really happy, I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and it’s genuine, something which breaks her heart a little more.

Of course she wants him to be happy, but a bigger part of her wants him to be happy with her and not anyone else. She knows that’s selfish, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to wish it into existence no matter how futile she knows it is.

“Have you met Jess?” He asks, placing a hand on her shoulder as though about to lead her somewhere.

“Oh, no I haven’t but she looks busy,” she quickly shrugs his hand off, the bride she could see from the corner of her eye, laughing at something another guest had said, “I’ll introduce myself later.” She lies.

The only thing she could think that would be worse than this wedding was having to actually meet the bride. To meet her replacement, the better version. The one who had stolen his heart and been worth enough to keep it forever. She forces a smile and excuses herself to the bathroom.

As she reaches the bathroom she can feel her eyes stinging, shutting herself in a cubicle she fans her face, determined not to let a single tear fall. She had made a promise to herself and the least she could do was keep it. She leant her head back against the door, letting out a shaky breath to compose herself.

Once she was sure she wouldn’t cry she exited the bathroom again, thankful to see that he was no longer at the table she had just ran from. She took her seat and no one asked where she had been or if she was okay, she was glad for that at least.

As the night wore on she thought she was doing okay, one little hiccup but no tears since, she’d even found herself genuinely laughing at a couple points. He’d spoken to her and she hadn’t thrown up on his shoes, he had no reason to try and speak to her again.

But then it was time for the first dance and she felt her chest tightening. Her calm composure being over taken by a sinking feeling of dread. She watched for a minute, watched him hold her close and smile. Watched him lean in to kiss her gently before spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in. She wished more than anything that it was her in his arms, her who he still looked at like the world shone behind her eyes. But it would never be her again, and his bride she was sure was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.

She watched as more dancers joined the floor, her friends among them. She tried to smile, but the sight was too much for her. Her friends laughing and dancing with their loved ones while she sat on the side lines and watched feeling like a stranger. The slow music a melancholy soundtrack to her emotions, reminding her of something she could never have.

She stands from the table, dragging her eyes over each person she knew, lingering on Luke for a moment longer before she turned and walked out of the room. She knew that this would be the last time she ever saw him, because she knew seeing him happy with someone else would be a slow form of torture. So she walked away, from him, from her friends forever, leaving whatever little pieces were left of her heart behind. By the time she exited the building she felt nothing more than a hollow shell and she finally let the tears fall.

tags: @lovesanimals @makebank @chrlsgillespie @crybabyddl @marinettepotterandplagg @caitsymichelle13 @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @alexpjoyner @meangirlsx

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fic #luke patterson imagine #jatp fic #my writing

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winterromanov · 4 years

Text

know it’s for the better - bucky x reader

pairing: college!bucky x reader

part of the will we talk? universe

prompt: what about college!bucky during quarantine? their school gets shut down... do they stay together? how does it go?

a/n: a repost bc the ‘read more’ fucked up on the ask and idk??? what happened??? but here u go. about 2k words

know it’s for the better

The semester is not supposed to end like this. No, there are supposed to be parties and laughter and getting wine drunk on the roof, bare legs dangling into New York City. There are supposed to be finals, and library study sessions, and football games in hot, summer rain. There are supposed to be more nights tucked in the twin bed in your dorm room with Bucky’s arm looped round your waist, fingers splayed across your bare skin.

Instead it’s the beginning of March and everything is over. You could feel it coming like storm clouds, black and ominous, hovering on the horizon. The virus has been hovering on your periphery for an embarrassingly long time. As your twitter timeline became more and more scary and the news could talk of little else, it has become frighteningly and anxiously real. Life—everywhere, but particularly in New York—is never going to be the same.

You have no choice but to pack up your little dorm room and return home. Your mom had frantically booked you a flight out, worrying that in less than a week they could be suspended altogether. The virus has been spreading furiously in the city. A place you now call home could be one of the most dangerous places in the world.

And yet…the thought of leaving behind everything so abruptly is killing you. It’s not even school, despite loving it so much. It’s not the college lifestyle or your friends or just having the freedom to waltz wherever you want without fear.

It’s Bucky.

You leave New York, you have to leave him. And God knows how long that might be for.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper. Bucky has been quietly watching you fill suitcases with clothes, cardboard boxes with belongings. Every so often it looks like he is going to help, but he thinks twice about it, like he can’t bear this is happening. “Y/N…could we, like, stop for a second?”

“My flight leaves first thing in the morning,” you say, refusing to turn and look at him. Your eyes well up as your tear Polaroids and ticket stubs and a sketch Steve did for you from your corkboard, unable to look at those either. They’re just reminders of everything you’re leaving and will never be the same again. “I don’t have time. I just need to get this done, okay?”

“I can’t just keep watching you do this and not talk about what’s going to happen next!”

“Well, maybe you could fucking help, then.”

You never swear, not really, and you can feel Bucky’s expression burning into the back of your skull. Hurt, surprise, desperation. “Let me help. Let me understand what is going through your head.”

“I—I didn’t mean that kind of help, I just need to pack these damn bags…”

Bucky’s hands touch your shoulders. It should feel familiar, his limbs and yours colliding. But he feels like fire. It feels like you’re going to have his handprints burnt into your skin, red and raw, a tattoo of the one real relationship you’ve ever had.

Because he knows just as well as you do that…it’s not going to work, is it? School is over. There is a fucking pandemic going on outside, and you live all the way on the other side of the country whilst he is and always will be a Brooklyn boy. You were supposed to have a whole semester and the summer to sort out what came next, to establish the foundations of your future together, if there was definitely going to be one. And that’s been ripped underneath you like a traumatic tablecloth.

You love him. You love him so fucking much. But is it fair to try and keep going when everything is like this?

“You know my mom and dad would love you to move in,” he says, “You can quarantine with us, see how things go. I just—I just don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave.”

“Bucky. Please. That’s not fair.” You say, eyes fluttering closed. “We haven’t lived together before and…how do you know we’d work like that? This is serious, and terrifying, and I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You don’t feel safe with me?”

At that you turn to face him, seeing the desperate pain in his eyes. You run your hands across his jawline, cupping at his neck. One tear runs across and down your wrist and he looks away, embarrassed. “Sweetheart. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“God. Yeah. I know, darl’. I know.” He kisses your hand softly. “With everything going on, (Y/N), my future feels a lot more certain knowing you’ll still be in it.”

You fall into his chest, inhaling him in. That woody, fresh scent of his cologne, coffee and mint and dark chocolate. You want to wrap yourself up in him and drown. Escape to a place where time is irrelevant, and nothing ever ends.

“I need to be with my family, Bucky. My mom is worried about me. I can’t put her through me staying here, even if I wanted to. And your mom would be the same.”

“I get that. I do. But you’re—you’re making it sound like that we have to break up.” You lean out of his embrace, his tear-filled eyes scrutinising you. “Are…we breaking up?”

Your mouth opens, swinging like a door on a loose hinge as you try and say something. Eloquence usually comes to you easy, when talking about the books you read for class. It’s one of the things Bucky first noticed about you, your fervent love for language. But there are no words for this. Just empty, agonising silence.

“Why do we have to break up?” He asks, voice cracked in two like a broken porcelain vase. “Why is that what you immediately resort to? There are thousands of ways we could make this work. Starting with the fact that I love you. Is that not enough to even try?”

You pause. Your room, once your safe haven, now feels torturous and unbearable. Suffocating. You bite your lip, tears burning behind your eyelids. “I would love to say yes, Bucky, but I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to be a few weeks down the line, you here and me in Colorado, finding out that it hasn’t worked and it isn’t enough and we have to break up over fucking Skype or…I don’t know, slowly ghost each other into nothingness? I would a million times over rather end it here where I love you than then where I don’t.”

“That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard. Literally the worst. You are assuming the absolute worst of both of us, and…” he runs a frantic hand through his hair. “You know what, if that’s what you think, maybe you’re right. If you have that little faith in me—us—now, maybe we should call it quits.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m going to leave. Have a good trip home.” He looks around your room for one last second but does not meet your gaze. “Have a really fucking good trip home.”

Bucky hovers for a moment by the door, like he’s waiting for one last glimmer of hope. That you might ask him to stay because even…even after all that, he still would drop everything for you to say stay.

But you don’t. The door reverberates loudly in the frame on his way out.

You don’t break down, which surprises you. For a little while after he leaves, when you try to immerse yourself in packing and singing along to Taylor Swift from your speaker, you think that it’s for the best. It is, it is, because it can’t work and it won’t work and this will save pain further down the line.

But the hours pass and silence creeps in to your now empty, echoing dorm room, absent of the vibrant life that once occupied it and—your heart feels wrong. This is not freeing, or a relief. This is not the ending you wanted.

You go to get a shower and Bucky’s sports towel is hung over one of the empty cubicles. You turn the tap as hot as it can get it, drowning the whole room in steam and something switches within you. The tears start and they refuse to stop, wracking your body like convulsions.

You fucked it. You well and truly fucked one of the only things that could have got you through all of this, even if you’re over a thousand miles away. It’s like Bucky said. The future is uncertain and scary and untenable, but it feels a hell of a lot more definite with him in it.

You wrap yourself in your towel and walk back into the corridor. Wiping your eyes, there’s a shape in a red jersey hovering next to your door.

“Bucky?”

He turns, his jaw tight and eyes rimmed with red. “Y/N.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else. You run over to him, grabbing fistfuls of him desperately, like he’s going to flare and fade from you forever. His arms wrap around you with equal vigour, warm and panicky and home.

“I didn’t mean it.” You say, your words swallowed up by his ribcage. “Dear God, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it.”

You can feel him sob, body trembling in your arms. “Thank God.”

“I don’t know what will happen next. I haven’t got a fucking clue. But I know I want you there, okay? However it turns out.” You bring his lips down for a kiss tinged with hot water and steam, relief and pure, young, beautiful love. Your foreheads gently rest together. Another quick kiss. “I love you. I love you.”

He kisses you again, like he’s trying to fit in as many as he can. Like he’s packing them all into a suitcase for you to relive, one by one by one, when you’re at home and everything feels like its crumbling.

It will never crumble completely. You know this, because James Buchanan Barnes is your foundations, and he made it pretty fucking clear on day one when he grinned at you in sophomore year Russian lit. You both love novels because you love stories. You love beginnings and ends and everything in between, the climaxes and the romances, murders and death and life—you love breaking apart character, brutally analysing fictional lives and motives. But most of all, you love the feeling of watching characters you adore falling completely and utterly in love. You have spent years trying to define your favourite love story amongst the hundreds you’ve read, but you never thought—

All that time, all you had to do was wait.

send me a request

#will we talk?#college!bucky #college!bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky au #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n

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btsmutimagines · 4 years

Text

Washed Up (M)

A/N: Idk why I’m embarrassed to admit this but I listen to Korean boyfriend ASMR sometimes because I’m a sad lonely hoe and I love deep voices so I listened to one but I can’t find it anymore T-T however I vividly remember how it went down so... enjoy I guess

Requested (forever ago): Can you write a dom taehyung smut , where he is protective and possessive in celebration for taehyung's blue hair? + Daddy kink , over simulation, marking/giving hickeys , spanking , orgasm denial , body worship and possession kink? (was asking for kinks at the time lol)

Word Count: 4.1k

THe BLUE HAIR STARTED THIS FSKLDKL

Have you ever started the day, feeling ready for whatever life wants to toss at you but as the day progresses, every possible worst-case scenario you could muster up starts to feel like your reality?

That’s the kind of day you were having.

It started with your car stopping halfway to your job because you forgot to fill your tank and you had to hitchhike with a stranger to a gas station who kept insisting that they could drop you off at work but you weren’t about to leave your baby on the side of the road for god knows how long. Your eyes kept looking at your rear-view mirror, making sure that your ‘goodwill’ stranger wasn’t following you to work.

Thanks to your forgetfulness, you were late to work where you met with your supervisor breathing down your neck because you were apparently scheduled for a meeting that was behind schedule due to your tardiness and your supervisor had to roughly start on his own.

You jumped in, trying to not mess up the entire presentation but you ended up messing up on some of the quarterly sales to be corrected by one of the investors. You knocked over a chart, the PowerPoint presentation that you spent weeks on wouldn’t open for a good 20 minutes which was filled with you and your supervisor awkwardly trying to joke with the investors. Oh, not to mention that your coworker had mentioned to you after you got up that you missed a button on your blouse so whenever you leaned over, you were flashing them a nice view of your bra and cleavage.

Hell, maybe that will distract them from the train wreck of a presentation.

You just plopped back into your seat, trying to start your next presentation and making sure that it opened properly every time you saved and exited it. Amid your work, one of the senior girls came over to you and started to make small chat with you.

“Oh, hey hun.”

“Oh, hi.”

“You seemed really busy.”

“Kind of. Is there something you need?”

“Oh, Y/N, what makes you think that I only came over so you could do something for me?” Dunno, maybe because the last time you came over to chat, you left me with 15-page assignments that were due the next morning? While your ass went out for drinks with one of your ‘companions’ You had chills run down your spine at the thought of this woman and how she gets around a man she is pining over.

It had nothing to do with her age (she has solidified cougar status), but it was the overly seductive side that she tries to portray. She tries to mystify every man she takes a liking to, but it shouldn’t take too much to get someone who likes you as well to get to the hint, but she liked to overemphasize her interest.

Maybe it’s your way of thinking, seeing as your boyfriend could be as dense as men come, but you like to think the old ‘being yourself’ trick works well.

She still gets her men, so that’s all that matters to her, you guess?

“But since you were such a dear to ask,” here we go again.

“I was supposed to stay to midnight to examine one of my newest client’s records, but I promised my sister that I would watch her kids while she and her husband went out for dinner.” You internally sighed, knowing that she was probably making an elaborate excuse, but you also had no reason why you wanted to get out of it anyways.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to leave children unattended.” You said with a hint of sarcasm, but she still dropped the huge binder on your desk anyway. She took her high heeled self away from yourself with a fake smile before going back to her cubicle on the other side of the room.

One of these days she’s going to really need you and you’re going to make sure that you have some kind of plans that were so foolproof that she’ll have to actually, you know, do her damn job.

You checked your watch, only seeing that it was 10. You leaned your head back a bit, stretched your arms before getting back to fixing your presentation.

“Hey, Y/N?” You sighed, looking at one of your coworkers walking up to you. He only came over to you to do one of two things: awkwardly ask you to go to lunch with him or fix the copier because you ‘had the magic touch’. You were pretty sure he just wanted to watch you squat to fill the paper or to lean over to check if it was even plugged in.

“What is it?”

“I was working with the copier, but it wasn’t working again, I was wondering if you would check it out for me?” You got up, following him to the copy room. The copier was on this time, you saw that it was just waiting for confirmation before printing and you accepted.

“You didn’t know how to confirm a print job?”

“It wasn’t working before? It wouldn’t print when I confirmed, you see.” The copier printed a single page and you handed it over to him and he stopped you from leaving.

“Don’t you want to make sure it worked?”

“It clearly did since it printed if you would excuse me-”

“Just look at it for me?”

“Uh.”

“What I mean is that, wouldn’t you feel partially responsible if the copier screwed up after helping me out?”

“No.”

“What?”

“You broke the copier and I couldn’t fix it. I’m not maintenance. Now, can you like take two steps to the left?” You were ready to tackle this dude, not really caring about what the office would think but he flipped over the page in front of you.

It was simple, it had the picture of him holding a sign saying ‘lunch?’.

“I wonder how much Mrs. Kang would appreciate you using office supplies to ask a taken woman to lunch.”

“Taken? By who?”

“None of your business. Now, move it.” You rubbed your temples, regretting even trying to help that kid. You had to admit, his persistence would be valuable if it was for actual work.

You worked through your lunch, settling for food from the cafeteria and your senior coworker walked past you.

“Aw, you poor thing.”

“What?”

“Having to eat from the cafeteria. That young man in our department just treated me to lobster.” What? That kid could afford lobster for lunch? You thought he would just take you to the cafeteria and try to awkwardly feed you or something, but not some fancy lunch? Now, your soup seemed pretty inferior to the lobster you could have been digging into…

“That poor boy told me how you rejected him so harshly when he just wanted to treat you to a nice lunch since you worked so hard.” Of course, she ate up his sob story, he was footing the damn bill.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate to let another man take me out to lunch when I have a boyfriend.”

“You? A boyfriend?” She laughed mockingly, you rolled your eyes and faced her.

“Honey, you should explore your options. Men are like a buffet, why restrict yourself to only your favourites when there are so many things that you can sample?”

“Because my boyfriend is like my favourite restaurant, sure there are things that I know I’ll love but there are more things that I would discover. To everyone else, it’s just another restaurant but I love it.”

“Ugh. Listening to you is going to make me vomit the lovely lobster I just enjoyed. Enjoy your little soup.” She basically spat the last line at you, you flipped her off when her back was turned to you.

Without any further interruptions, you fixed your presentation and began to read through the client records that Ms. ‘Men are buffet’ should have been looking at. She even walked past you, exclaiming how excited she was to get home after a long day at work.

The office began to dwindle in people, your office light being one of the few that were still on and you started to yawn when you were reading the plans for the product. It was only 6 in the evening; a small nap couldn’t hurt…

You shut the binder, placing it on your table and placing your keyboard up on the base of your monitor to give your arms more room. As soon as you shut your eyes, you started to doze off.

You woke up to the sound of your ringtone next to your ear and you groggily answered.

What do you want?

Is that really how you want to start this conversation, baby?

Yes. If you can’t tell me why you decided to grace me with this phone call, I’m hanging up

Are you forgetting that you said that you wanted to come over tonight and it’s now 10?

No, I-shit, I did, didn’t I?

Yes, Ms. Forgetful.

I’ll be right there.

Wait-

You hung up before he could finish, turning off your light and grabbing your coat. You rushed down to the parking lot and getting in your car. It was raining outside, you forgot to check the weather before you left the house, but you had a car, so it wouldn’t matter, right?

That is, if your car would actually start.

“Fuck.” You saw the battery symbol light up, you cursed out loud and hit the steering wheel. You got out of the car, locking it and decided to trudge in the rain. His place wasn’t that far away, and you didn’t want to spend the money on a taxi.

So, you show up to your boyfriend, Taehyung’s doorstep, shivering and wet from the rain and he opened the door. He looked all warm and comfy in his sweats and a loose shirt and began to ‘tsk’ at you.

“If you let me finish, Y/N, I would have said that it was raining and that we could have met for breakfast or something.”

“Well, you were talking too slow.”

“I think you know how fast I can be, baby.”

“Are you going to stand there and boast or let me in?”

“My, my, you’re snappier today.”

“Well, my warm and dry boyfriend is just chatting up a storm while I’m cold, shivering and dealing with a kinda shitty day, thanks for asking by the way.”

“That was my next question, I swear.”

“Mhm.” He pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and you looked at him with your arms crossed.

“To be fair, you’re the one that showed up late.”

“Well, I got extra work shoved on me because one of my coworkers, you know the one with the curly auburn hair that pinned in a weird updo?”

“The one that flirted with me when you went to get drinks?”

“I swear any relatively young-looking man with a pulse is her type.”

“Wait, relatively young-looking? What does that even mean?”

“You have a baby face.”

“Excuse you, I look extremely manly.”

“Oh, honey.” You said, touching his arm.

“God, don’t talk like that woman.”

“Sorry, she kept saying that to me today and I need a detox from her.”

“Agreed.”

“Anyways, she shoved her work on me to finish. Then some dude in the office asked me out to lunch. I said no, don’t worry yourself, Mr. Jealous.” You could see the relief wash over him as you said the last sentence, but it was quickly replaced with fake shock.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Your expression speaks volumes, but I missed out on some lobster.”

“Pfft. Lobster. Baby, I could get you a four-course seafood extravaganza. Calamari, lobster, crab, whatever you name it.”

“Mussels?”

“Of course.”

“Shrimp?”

“Baby, who do you think I am?”

“Maybe, you’re not too bad, I guess. You would make better company, anyways.”

“I can do much more than that.”

“And what’s that?”

“How about I get a nice, warm shower running, give you the one sweater you like to wear,”

“I like to wear it or you like seeing me in it?”

“Why can’t it be both, love?”

“What else?”

“And we can have some nice cuddles while we watch that movie you were talking about?”

“Hm. You seem to know me pretty well.”

“Only been at this for almost 2 years, I think I have some hindsight now.”

“That smart brain of yours should probably tell those feet to start moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, turning on his heel and walking to the bathroom. You giggled a little as he saluted you before entering the bathroom.

“Such a dork.” You took off your shoes, placing them on the rack next to his and peeling off your coat. A shiver made you rub your arms with your hands and rush down to the bathroom.

“Didn’t think you would come in so soon.”

“Well, you did say a nice shower, not a bath.”

“Better warm you up faster, maybe the snappiness will wash away.”

“Eh.” You exclaimed, slightly offended and he chuckled.

“I was joking, babe.”

“Oh, so you think you’re funny now, huh?”

“When wasn’t I funny?”

“Were you ever funny?”

“That’s just a low blow, you know that’s a core part of my being.”

“You kind of walked into that one, bud.”

“Fair.” He began to unbutton your blouse, your wet bra accentuating your breasts and hardened nipple due to the cold rain.

“It was really cold.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” He stood close, your face gently pressed into his chest as he unzipped your pencil skirt and sliding it down. He took his time with your stockings, his face conveniently in front of your panties and he hooked his fingers along the strap.

“Control yourself, mister.”

“Of course, where are my manners? You can’t be the only one naked here.”

“That’s not what I…” He stood up abruptly, tossing his shirt over his head to reveal his torso. You appreciated the fact he wasn’t a gym monkey like Jungkook, besides it’s fine to play with his stomach.

“Cute.”

“What kind of reaction is that?”

“What? Your tummy is cute.” He sighed, you poked his tummy and he tried to fight the smile on his face before holding your hands.

“You’re ruining the mood.”

“What mood? I’m taking a shower and you took off your shirt for no reason.”

“I never said that you would be washing yourself. It’s more relaxing if someone else does it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Plus, we can spend more time together, we missed out on some quality time.”

“Fine, but don’t do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Don’t be coy. You know exactly what I mean, where you put on that smouldering look and act all like Edward from twilight-esque.”

“Are you getting a fever?” He placed the back of his hand on your forehead and you smacked his hand. You slipped out of your underwear and getting behind the curtain. The warm water hitting your skin instantly made you feel better, Taehyung following you not too long after.

“I can shower myself just fine, Taehyung.”

“Y/N.” He singsonged your name, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He planted a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I just want to help you relax, you’ve had such a long day and deserve to be pampered, hmm?” He didn’t give a real chance to respond, grabbing the loofah he kept for you when you stayed over and added some soap.

“Just close your eyes and let me take care of you.” He rubbed the loofah before gently scrubbing your skin. You listened to his whimsical hums as he glides the loofah as he wished.

“May I?”

“If you have to.” He fondled your chest, him trying to be innocent as possible about it. Although you didn’t miss the gentle brushing against your nipples or him needed to cup more of your breasts because he ‘couldn’t miss a single spot’.

He washed your back, you sensed him getting down his knees as he washed your ass. The way the loofah rubbed against your ass in a gentle circular motion, his hand lightly touching as he moved over the curvature.

He turned you to face him, letting the water now hit your back and his hand touched your leg.

“Lift your leg.” He commanded, you silently obeyed, and he got eye level with your leg. You watched him wash with long strokes, licking his lips a bit as he switched legs.

“All done.” He stood while saying this, his fingers stroked up your thigh. You pressed your thighs together as a result, looking away from Taehyung who gently turned your head to meet his eyes.

“Let me return the favour.” You quietly said, averting your eyes from his face and grabbed the loofah he used for himself and a dollop of his body wash.

You couldn’t help but stare at the way the soap would wash off his torso, almost drooling when you watched his back muscles slightly contract as you washed his back. Jesus, it was one of the titillating things about him.

“You’re missing a spot, love.”

“Oh-uh you’re a big boy, you can do that yourself.”

“You offered.”

“To wash you, not give you a handjob with soap.”

“How about without the soap?”

“Are your brain cells still functioning?”

“Oh, don’t play games, love. Don’t think I didn’t catch you staring at me.”

“Or how you pressed your thighs together when I just innocently touched them?”

“Or how your nipples are still hard after all this time in the shower?”

“So what if that’s all true? What are you going to do about it?” You knew there was no point in trying to hide your arousal, he could see through you like glass.

“Why don’t you tell me? What do you want me to do?” He leaned in, teasing you by brushing his lips against yours but you pressed your lips against his. You didn’t care about how desperate you were, your lips shamelessly moving against his.

His hands grabbed your ass, you gasped at the sudden movement and he chuckled into your lips.

“Not funny.”

“You gasp like it’s the first time I’ve touched your ass.”

“It just catches me off guard.”

“So cute.”

“Not the exact words I want to hear, Tae.” He chuckled again, you hit his chest and he leaned in to kiss you again. You felt yourself chasing after his lips, seconds separating each kiss you two shared and you comfortably rested your arms around his neck.

His lips trailed along your neck, a small whimper left your lips as he began to nip at your skin. Your hands travelled to his head with a rough tug at his hair.

“I can’t believe that dick at your job doesn’t know you’re mine. All mine.”

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“Of who? I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this.” His left hand sensually rubbed against your inner thigh, his thumb brushing against your folds.

“The only one who gets to hear you like this.”

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath as his right hand expertly fondled your left breast.

“Don’t get quiet on me, sweetheart. I want to hear you while you unravel under my touch.”

“Hands against the wall.” He commanded, you swiftly positioned yourself. You were about to speak when you felt two fingers suddenly enter you.

“Jesus Christ, Taehyung.” You moaned, his fast pace was unforgiving.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking perfect. Your pretty little pussy taking my fingers so easily like it’s made for me.”

“Nngh, fuck, more.” You felt a hard smack on your ass, the sting only stimulating you more.

“Where are your manners, baby? Hm?”

“P-Please fuck- I want more p-please.”

“Good girl.” He obliged to your plea, a third finger squeezing its way into you. The gentle stretch was noticeable, Taehyung’s hand soothing your ass while he did so.

“You alright, baby?”

“Y-Yes.”

“So eager to please.” He continued his reckless pace when he felt you were comfortable, his fingers quickly stretching you out.

“You’re so good, baby, so good.” You could barely focus on Taehyung’s words, pleasure overpowering your senses. Though your incoherent moans, you found yourself on the edge of your orgasm before he stopped.

“What the fuck, Tae-” He silenced you with another slap to your ass, you giving him a silent glare.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you cum, did you?”

“You’re not coming until I see you trembling and sobbing for me to let you cum, understood.”

“Besides, I have to punish you for keeping me waiting.” You wanted to protest, your words barely making it to the tip of your tongue before you felt his fingers plunged back into you.

You were pretty sensitive from before, the addition of his thumb grinding against your clit only made it more of a challenge to stop yourself. He teased you, abruptly stopping for a moment before starting his wicked pace. All you could was stabilize yourself against the wall, getting a few warning smacks from slightly sliding out of position.

“P-Please- Tae. I can’t- Wanna cum-” You sobbed, not caring about your broken words and he rested his hands on your ass.

“In due time, baby. First, on your knees.” He watched as you shakily knelt in front of him, being formally acquainted with his throbbing erection. You silently awed at how he could show restraint while he was this hard.

You didn’t need a word before you wrapped around him, maintaining a good grip as you pumped his cock at a moderate pace. Licking your lips, you allowed the head to enter your mouth. Your tongue ever so slowly swirled around it, licking away the leaky precum and he groaned in response.

His hands made their way into your wet hair, sloppily gripping the strands as you began to bob your head in a rhythmic pace. You found yourself growing wet at the sounds of him cursing your name as you blew him.

“Fuck, your lips are so beautiful around my cock.”

“Love the way I hit your pretty little throat.”

“Fuck, makes me want to cum and watch you swallow it all up like a fucking good girl.”

“Shit-“ You stopped, wiping off a string of saliva that connected your lips to his cock. He helped you up, turning you to face the wall adjacent to you and lifting your leg. With his other hand, he rubbed the head of his cock against you.

“Quit teasing me already.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

“Taehyung.” You whined, him having the audacity to chuckle before slowly sliding into you.

“Fuck.” You two muttered seemingly at once, he was still for a moment before beginning to thrust his hips into yours.

He leaned in to kiss you, muffling your moans as he began to bang into you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, focusing on the insurmountable euphoria that came with each thrust of his cock. It was mind-numbing how he knew every sweet spot on your body from your neck to your collarbone. From your chest to your stomach, down to your hips and thighs and eventually your cunt.

And you knew him well, how much he liked when you tugged at his hair, the way his face heats up when you nibble on his ear. The way he moans when you kissed his neck and under his jaw, leaving haphazard hickeys wherever you felt. You knew he liked the way you straddle his thighs, not so discreetly grinding on him until he was uncomfortably hard and leave him to his own devices. His body was moulded to every touch you made and you loved it.

“Fucking shit, baby.” He growled in your ear, you biting your lips once again but unable to mask the whimpers from his attentive ears.

“Let me hear you.”

“Please-fuck, harder.” He graced you with a rougher pace, you needing to press your back against the wall before you slammed into it from his thrusts. You moaned at the hard grip he had on your thigh from holding your leg up and you could feel yourself stumbling to stay up.

“You like that, baby, huh? Fucking you so good you won’t want any dick but mine.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a-all fucking yours.”

“Good fucking girl. You wanna cum?”

“F-Fuck, please.” He smirked, his free hand immediately rubbing your clit. Your legs trembled as you came, the release causing you to cry out.

He came a bit after you had, delectable groans escaping his lips as he did so. The two of you glanced at each other breathlessly, neither of you speaking as you caught your breaths.

“I think I have to clean you up again.”

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts oneshots #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung imagine

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steppedoffaflight · 3 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 16

Catch up on Chapter 15 here

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath.

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass.

Summer’s coming to an end.

Word count: ~8.2k

Chapter Sixteen October 2019

Those few rushed nights with Van are all you get in September.

The band’s schedule is less jam-packed this month, and Van promises over text that he’ll be around soon. He responds to you more often, and is able to fit in some phone calls more often when he’s on smoke breaks, even if sometimes he accidentally calls you at three A.M. and has to go to voicemail.

You know you should be excited to see him again, but you can’t stop remembering how awful you feel each time he leaves. With September under your belt you’re more adapted to his absence, feeling a little more steady on your feet. Wouldn’t seeing him again just fuck it all up?

Maybe you could still be friends with Van, as long as you kept a little distance between you two. Maybe if you gave yourself some space this month you could accept that Van was just a best friend with a spotty visitation schedule, and not cling to him so tightly. You make a pact with yourself to take October off of seeing Van, with the exception of phone calls and texts. That way you could keep him at arm’s length while you get your head together.

Even making that promise to yourself gives you a rush of relief. Your September funk had been much more serious than you’d realized, and now that you were starting to shake it off you knew you couldn’t jeopardize it. You’d started having regular weekend brunch with Mary at the diner again, and had gone out with the girls at work for drinks after one of them secured a huge client for the company. Everything was starting to fall back into place in your world, returning to the way it had been before your birthday weekend in San Diego had tipped everything over.

On a Monday morning midway through the month, you’re dashing to your desk after running hopelessly late. You’d forgotten to plug your phone in last night, so it’d died in the middle of the night, and your body’s natural clock had woken you up on way too short notice. Thankfully nobody seems to notice as you slide into your cubicle, eagerly tapping the enter key on your keyboard to wake your computer up.

Your phone is still dead in your bag, and you dig it out before rustling through a drawer for your work charger. As your phone starts to boot up you focus on your computer, using your credentials to log in. You take a moment to collect yourself as everything loads, smoothing your hair down and taking a sip of your coffee you’d poured into a travel mug before rushing out the door.

You’ve caught your breath by the time you get your browser open and your email loaded. The subject line of the third email in your inbox immediately catches your eye: Y/N OPEN THIS NOW IT’S IMPORTANT

It’s from Danica, one of the girls in your coworker friend group.

The new martini bar on Melrose finally opened and we want to get drinks Friday after work!! Let me know if you’re in!

Getting drinks on Friday sounded fun, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Yeah I’m in, you send back, but what martini bar on Melrose?

You take a quick trip to the bathroom, and when you come back there’s a response at the top of your inbox. She’s linked the website for the bar, and it does look pretty cool. The decor is crisp and modern, and from their ‘about’ section it looks like they’re bordering the fine line of being a club without trying to attract the student crowd.

Oh, cool! Do you care if I invite my friend Mary? From the photos it looks like the sort of place Mary would be right at home charming everyone at, so you can’t resist asking.

Once Danica has given her approval to invite Mary, you finally unlock your phone, ready to send a text to her about Friday night. That’s when you see Van’s message.

Guess who’s gonna be flying in on Friday?

Your blood instantly runs cold. Oh shit.

It only takes that simple text to throw you off kilter. How can some words on a screen do that?

You swipe Van’s message away, hoping to forget about it. You couldn’t, of course, but you’d made a promise to yourself not to see him and now he was trying to mess that up! You’d have to say no. You knew you’d have to say no. Technically, you had plans. And, more importantly, you were not going to spend the weekend crying your eyes out over some stupid guy! It was a no. For sure. The only thing is that you’d have to figure out how to say it.

You proceed with texting Mary about the martini bar, and then decide to focus on work for the day. You were already behind from running late and time wasted emailing Danica, so you needed to get going. It would be good for Van not to have an immediate response. You needed some time to word things in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. After all, it’s not him- it’s you.

But after an hour of some market research you pick your phone up again. Omg I just made plans for Friday, You respond with an emoji of a facepalm. You get back to work, ridiculously proud of how you’d brushed him off. Take that, Van McCann. You would not be dropping everything to see him.

Van doesn’t respond until the next afternoon. That’s alright! Saturday?

You bury your head in your hands where you’re sitting at your favorite cafe booth on your lunch. Lord, he was making this so fucking hard.

It isn’t until you’re home, fresh glass of wine in hand, that you reply. Idk. So swamped with work lately.

To keep your guilt at bay, you actually do swamp yourself with work. Van has dropped the subject of meeting up for the moment being, but you know he’ll bring it back up with a vengeance. You don’t know if there’s been one time he’s been in L.A. this entire summer that you two haven’t hung out, and knowing he’s not the type to let subjects drop peacefully leaves a pit of dread in your stomach.

You smother said dread with the market research you’re currently doing for some sort of waterless shampoo for dogs. It was a successful enough product, given that there were already a few brands on pet store shelves. The only issue is that you were at a loss when it came to what was supposed to make this particular brand special. The client couldn’t answer that question herself, either, so this was essentially a THC-water-rerun where you use up the research budget, don’t get anywhere, and the client eventually gives up.

As you remember the THC water, your fingers reach across your desk for a pen, so you can jot down a reminder to send them a thank you note for the products they’d sent you. Van had informed you during one of your phone calls last month that he’d brought the bottles on tour, where one night the boys chugged the entire pack. According to him, they’d all actually gotten high. Plus, you’d like an update on how they were doing with their new marketing team. You’d managed to call in a favor from a different firm with more THC experience, who was genuinely interested in taking them on. Hopefully now their product was getting the attention it needed.

On Friday morning, you wake up sick to your stomach. You’d barely slept, your mind tossing Van’s impending visit back and forth the entire night. He hasn’t texted you about it since you’d brushed him off on Tuesday, and now you were filled with the sinking feeling that he was upset with you. Which, first of all, was a ridiculous thought. You hadn’t done anything wrong by not clearing your schedule for him! Certainly he understood that you had your own life and your own job, and not everything revolved around him. As much as you wanted it to.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it? The more that Van was sweet and understanding, the harder it was to force yourself to reject him. You literally wanted nothing more than to come home from having drinks tonight and find him curled up in your bed. You were putting yourself through this torture, and it wasn’t even necessary!

But it is necessary, you remind yourself. Look at you! Losing sleep, stumbling around while your stomach does somersaults just because you were so hopelessly in love with Van your body couldn’t bear the concept of having to opt out of seeing him for one weekend. How were you ever supposed to create some distance between you two?

You’re a zombie at work, jumping at your phone each time it buzzed. It was never Van, only the group chat of everyone going out tonight. You let them discuss their outfits and designated driver situation amongst themselves, trying to force yourself to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done to help a client apply for a patent today.

You startle when your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, almost falling into the damp sink. You lurch for it with the hand not currently running the flat iron through your hair, sighing in irritation. The group chat has continued to go off incessantly all day, keeping a steady stream of anxiety and adrenaline running through you. What could everyone possibly need to fucking talk about when you guys were about to be face-to-face in less than an hour?

It’s a text from Van. Just got in.

Although it solidifies the nerves in your stomach, there’s some sort of relief that what you’ve been anticipating has finally happened. Easy flight? You can’t resist responding.

Eh, He says, lots of turbulence.

With no mention of meeting up, your shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all day. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s the girls, and you hurry to order your Uber while you finish up your hair and put the final touches on your makeup.

Martinis on Melrose is hard to see from the main road, and it takes your driver a minute to find his way into the parking lot. The name is glowing in a dark blue neon script across the smooth cement of the exterior, casting a glow on all of the sleek cars crammed into the lot. You’re glad you don’t have to worry about finding a spot as you shimmy out of the backseat, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and trying to find your footing on your heels.

Two of the girls are already here and have reserved a table for tonight, but Theo is still en route dropping Mary off. You pause just outside of the front door, eager to stall, and dig around in your purse for your pack of cigarettes.

It’s the quiet before the storm, that moment before you walk into a gathering where you like to mentally brace yourself for the night to come. No offense to the girls, as you enjoy their company a ton, but you’ll always be an introvert at heart. Having a quick cigarette is the perfect way to calm yourself down, get yourself ready to be social for an extended period of time. Your first puff sends relief rushing through your brain, a craving satisfied.

As you watch your exhaled smoke glow blue from the fluorescent lighting, you feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You can’t believe Van’s managed to get you hooked on nicotine. Oh, Van. The disappointment in your belly blooms larger, deeper. Disappointment that you won’t be ending your day wrapped in his arms, comforted by his company, his charisma that had weaseled around your introverted tendencies until you felt right at home with him in your space. Disappointed that you don’t have him by your side tonight, your hand in his, anchoring you to the moment. Disappointed that after the fiasco over this weekend, you had the feeling that you’d never be able to remain just friends with him.

“Since when do you smoke alone?” Mary’s voice has you crawling out of your skin, dropping your cigarette from the scare.

“Shit,” You hiss, further disappointed that you have to stomp your cigarette out when it was only halfway done. The cement is so fresh and clean you decide to lean over and pick the butt up, depositing it in the trash directly to your right by the door. “Just getting my head in the game,” You respond to Mary.

Ever the extrovert, she clearly doesn’t understand, blinking at you as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I fucking love that outfit,” She changes the topic.

You glance down at yourself. It’s actually the same one you’d worn to Lou’s birthday party, complete with the uncomfortable heels and the denim jacket to help dress it down. Looking down at your toes you remember trading shoes with Sam, arguing with Van in hushed tones on the deck stairs. You hadn’t known how deep your feelings were for him then, but you remember how his jealousy both pissed you off and pleased you at the same time, an indication that he might want your arrangement to go deeper than friends. That memory falls into the disappointment abyss when you realize in hindsight how that never happened.

“Thanks, but look at you!” You beam at her, gesturing to her own dress. It’s a silk slip that looks like you might see a Kardashian posing in it on instagram. It makes her legs look a mile long, and she’s gone braless, always on trend. She’s got her right hand wrapped around a sleek clutch bag, and as you two head into the bar she holds it up.

“Don’t let me get drunk and forget this in the bathroom or at the table,” She warns in a low tone.

“I’ll try,” You mutter, as the hustle and bustle of the club surrounds you two. “But I’m in need of a few martinis myself.”

“Long week?” Mary eyes you after she scans the room. You’re doing the same, looking for the table Danica had texted you they were at.

You spot the table, starting to head to it, Mary following along. “Oh yeah,” You nod enthusiastically, realizing how emotionally drained you’ve been since Van’s text on Monday.

You introduce everyone to Mary before sliding into the curved booth, exchanging greetings. One of the girls pass you a menu that you look over with curiosity. You need something strong enough to forget these last two months.

Your focus on the menu fades when your phone buzzes against the glossy tabletop. Just as you reach to check what notification has appeared the server comes around to get you and Mary’s drink order. While she opts for a cosmopolitan your eyes quickly flit over the page, your brain scrambling to read the different ingredients in your hurry.

“I’ll have an endless summer,” You recite to the waitress, smiling at her as she hurries away to relay the order. She leaves the menu so that the girls that haven’t arrived yet can look over it.

As soon as she’s gone you grab for your phone again, unlocking it to see a text from Van: Wanna do lunch at that diner tomorrow? It’ll help with that hangover

You’d told him about your plans to go out for drinks, and his thoughtfulness makes your heart ache. Why does he have to be so fucking nice all of the time?

“Is that Van?” Mary interrupts the wave of sadness welling up in your chest. Everyone has stopped talking, Mary commanding the attention of everyone per usual.

“Um, yeah,” You respond politely, despite the urge to reach over and strangle her. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and your cheeks burn at the way Mary’s just exposed your Van situation to everyone.

“Who?” Danica asks, tilting her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “I thought you were single!”

Realizing your coworkers had no idea about him, Mary’s face lights up in joy. You hate her for it, internally groaning. There’s no way she’s going to let you get away without telling everyone what was going on.

“Y/N hasn’t told you about Van?” Mary asks, leaning in excitedly. Danica and your other coworker that had arrived early, Nicole, are suddenly at attention, waiting for you to explain.

“Hey, hey!” Olivia- forever the loudest coworker in the office- calls from behind your shoulder. She’s sauntering effortlessly on stilettos, Mia trailing behind.

Olivia makes a big scene of plopping down in the booth, Mia shuffling in next to you. Whereas you’re the quiet counterpart to Mary, Mia’s the same to Olivia. You’d always liked Mia, the way she never seemed stressed or worked up over office demands or drama; she tended to let them roll off of her with a quiet shrug. You tended to stay away from Olivia, however. While Mary radiated an outgoing, enjoyable charisma, Olivia radiated an air of lead-cheerleader bitchiness.

The commotion of Olivia and Mia’s arrival has successfully diverted the conversation to how hard the restaurant had been for Olivia to find, and everyone forgets about the Van topic. You sigh in relief when the waitress comes back around to collect the new drink orders, gingerly setting a glass full of sunset-colored alcohol in front of you. It starts deep red at the bottom with the cranberry juice, and somehow fades to a soft orange by the middle of the glass, a pale pink at the top. You suck at your straw eagerly, ready to have some alcohol in your system. It’s overly sweet and burns as it goes down, but Danica and Nicole are already one drink ahead of you, so you’re trying to catch up.

“He’s an annoying motherfucker,” Olivia is complaining about her husband, tossing her phone back into her bag with a scoff. Mia murmurs agreement next to you, and Danica is asking her some question about wedding venues. Danica’s not engaged just yet, but it’s clear she’s desperate for a proposal from her boyfriend.

Oh, to be surrounded by friends in couples. Mary has chimed in about some pet peeve she has about Theo, and you let their conversation fade to the background of your mind as you pick your phone up again.

This weekend doesn’t really work for me at all, you text Van. It physically pains you to press send, but you know it’s what you’ve got to do. He’s not getting the hint!

“Oh! Y/N!” Danica suddenly exclaims, and when you look up from your screen she is gesturing excitedly, like the words are on the tip of her tongue.

“You were gonna tell us about that Victor guy!” She finally spits it out, and the spotlight is on you again.

“Van,” You correct absentmindedly, before realizing you’d missed the point. You clear your throat, tucking your phone in the pocket of your jacket, deciding not to check it again. You couldn’t handle Van possibly becoming angry or hurt. “Um, there’s not much to say!” You laugh nervously, glancing at Mary as a call for help. “He’s my best friend.”

“Besides, you, of course,” You hurry to assure Mary. She rolls her eyes in amusement, unbothered.

“He’s her best friend with benefits,” Mary stirs the pot. Everyone’s interest in you had started to fade with your lackluster explanation, but at the mention of the benefits they all perk up again.

“And get this,” Mary gestures excitedly, and you’re relieved she’s taking over the storytelling. “He’s the lead singer of this band that’s fucking huge in the U.K.”

“No way,” Danica’s eyes widen.

“Yeah,” Mary nods. “We met him after they played a show at the House of Blues in San Diego.”

“When?” Nicole pipes up, scooting in closer.

“In January, when I was there for my birthday,” You tell her.

“You’ve been with him since January?” Danica asks, clearly shocked. “You haven’t said a word!”

You open your mouth to respond, but are interrupted by the waitress passing out another round of drinks. You take the last few sips of your first martini, then stick your straws into the next glass.

“Girl, explain,” Nicole demands, earning a laugh from everyone at the table.

“Hold on,” You laugh, feeling a bit more comfortable with their interest. This whole thing has been weighing on you, after all, and now you’ve got the chance to get some fresh opinions on what you should do. Without further ado you hold the straw of your drink between your thumb and forefinger, swallowing it down in a matter of a minute.

“I need to catch up!” Olivia shouts as you pull away, and starts to gulp down her own drink. She’s finished quicker than you, ever the show-off, and waves the waitress over again to request another round for you and her.

The waitress is back pronto, another endless summer dripping condensation on the table in front of you, a bloody mary perched in front of Olivia.

You take a sip to wet your throat before you sit back.

You’ve never told the story of you two out loud like this before. Mary’s been present every step of the way, and you’d managed to stay away from your family’s prying by telling them only the basics of your friendship. This is the first time you have to listen to yourself explain all of the time you’ve spent together, and it shocks you as you hear yourself. Like when you explain the story of Van catching strep throat, and Mia is confused as to why he decided to spend over a week crashing at your place. You recite Van’s excuse at the time about the lack of food at his house, but nobody at the booth seems convinced.

You trail off when you’re finished, deciding not to share anymore details with anyone. Mary had snorted more than once during your chronicles due to your decision to keep everything very surface and PG- although you’re sure none of these girls cared about Catfish, Van’s trust is sacred to you. You’re fiercely protective over the private moments you two have had together; even Mary doesn’t know about the way you’d tied him up during his birthday sex.

There’s a silence that falls over everyone when you’re finished, punctuating the story of your summer with a long, burning sip of your drink. You’re expecting Olivia to launch into her own story- no doubt somehow more interesting than yours- but you’re surprised to see her stirring her bloody mary, looking lost in thought. Was this Van thing really that crazy?

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath.

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass.

“What? Why?” Nicole shrieks. “He sounds great!”

“He is great,” You affirm. You’d sworn to yourself a long time ago that no matter how this thing plays out, you’d always maintain that Van had been the best man you’d ever been with. “But he’s just really busy now. He was gone for almost all of September.”

“So you’re gonna give him up?” Nicole scoffs in disbelief. “You’re insane, Y/N.”

“I mean, there’s nothing to give up!” You defend yourself weakly, your voice going higher in pitch. “We’re not together!”

Mary opens her mouth to speak, no doubt to derail you from your plan. You understand why she’s eager to dissuade you from something so drastic, but she also had no idea about the agony you’ve been in, how cutting ties with Van is the only way you know how to save your sanity.

“Do you have a picture?” Olivia asks, successfully interrupting Mary. Despite your dislike for Olivia, you’re glad for her intervention.

“Um, lemme see,” You murmur, grabbing your phone back out of your pocket. But you forgot you’d been keeping your phone in there on purpose, and as you go to scroll through your photo gallery you’re accosted with Van’s reply to your previous message:

Everything alright?

You swipe it away, reaching your drink before realizing it’s empty. “Ugh, I need another one of these.” How many drinks have you had now? Three? You wish you remembered.

You deliberate over what photo to show them; you hardly take any when you two are together, and most of the ones you’ve taken seem too intimate to share with others. You laugh when you scroll past a photo of Van you’d taken in August, standing by the front door with his ribboned ficus in his arms. He’s got an exaggerated grin, no attempt to look poised for the camera. There’s tons of photos with his blurry hands or feet in them, attempts to obscure snapchats you were trying to take for Mary, and you hurry past the few nudes he’d sent you when you two had decided to exchange a few over text. You settle on one you feel comfortable sharing; it’s a photo of him at some bar, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. He’s flushed and beaming, leaning against Bob, who was the one taking the picture of the two of them. He’d forwarded it to you the next morning, complaining about his hangover. You present this photo to the others.

Immediately Olivia takes your phone from your hands, sending a shot of anxiety through you. You’ll never understand why some people insist on taking the phone out of your hands rather than just looking at the image on the screen.

“He’s good looking!” She exclaims, almost like she didn’t expect it. Danica and Nicole nod their agreement. When Olivia hands the phone back you flash the photo at Mia, who seems more interested in Bob’s half of the picture.

“Isn’t he?” Mary agrees, playfully elbowing you. “If you’re finished with him then send him my way,” She jokes, but you can hear her ill-concealed frustration with you underneath. You know she’s dying to know what the fuck you’re doing, messing up the best not-relationship you’ve ever had. Maybe she’ll get lunch with you tomorrow, so you can properly explain. Of course you hadn’t shared your true feelings for Van with everyone, but it was probably time for Mary to know.

“He sounds like a keeper,” Olivia agrees, and you’re surprised to hear she thinks so. You’re even more surprised at everyone’s enthusiastic nods.

“You’d be an idiot to let him go,” Danica tells you seriously, and Nicole murmurs her assent. “Like, seriously. Have you lost interest in him?”

Lost interest in him? You wish it could be true, but that wasn’t even a possibility you could fathom at the moment.

“Uh, no,” You answer her, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s just the logistics.”

“Well, make it work,” Nicole urges you.

There’s some murmurs about ‘the one that got away’ from the other girls, and the conversation about Van finally dies out. You’re relieved when Mia brings up a project she’s working on in the office, looking for some advice from everyone about how to respond to a client who tends to have an aggressive tone in his emails. From there things fade into hilarious client stories and email blunders, and you try to seem as engaged as possible, relieved to have the focus off of you.

You lose track of your drinks, absentmindedly sipping them while everyone’s voices flow and mingle around you. You’ve definitely hit your introvert limit, ready to head home and curl up in bed. Nobody seems to notice how quiet you’ve grown, or how you perk up in relief when Mia finally suggests you guys call it a night. Everyone takes her cue, the table lighting up with phone screens as everyone reaches out to their ride.

“Theo can take you home,” Mary offers when you pull up the Uber app.

“Oh, it’s fine,” You politely decline. There’s a lot of Ubers doing rounds on a busy street like Melrose during this time, and you know a car will be here soon. More than anything you were craving the quiet, some time away from this loud club music and conversation.

“If you’re sure…” Mary trails off. You remember your idea about lunch suddenly, ready to blurt it out to her, but the sober fraction of your brain shushes you. It would be incredibly rude to make lunch plans with someone right in front of everyone else.

Lunch tomorrow? You text her instead, and watch the notification ping on her phone screen.

YES. she sends back. YOU HAVE EXPLAINING TO DO.

That would cause sober-you to dread these plans, but thankfully drunk-you is only preoccupied with going home.

You’re drunker than you’d thought by the end of the night. You’d managed to down all of your drinks without the need to use the restroom (miraculously), but when you had stood up to let Mary shuffle out of the booth it suddenly felt like your bladder was nothing but a bouncing water balloon, and all of the alcohol had rushed to your head. You had struggled to keep yourself walking in a straight line to the bathroom, not to mention staying balanced on your heels while you washed your hands. You get the notification your ride is here as soon as you’re pushing through the heavy swinging door, so you grab your bag back at the booth and exchange goodbyes and promises to do this again with Nicole, who is the last one waiting for a ride, and head out front.

There’s no silence quite as satisfying as the one that follows a night out after you’ve hopped into the car and closed the door. Besides the polite hello the driver offers he doesn’t seem interested in conversation, so you stare out the window at the night sky and try to make sense of the mess in your head.

Only as the car is pulling out onto Melrose do you remember you’d left a text from Van on read. You grab your phone off of the seat next to you, clicking your texts with Van open.

Everything alright? You read to yourself over and over. How the fuck were you supposed to answer that? Was he really that clueless? Were you that amazing at hiding how much this had been hurting you, or had he just not bothered to pay attention?

I’m fine, you decide to reply. Was it the truth? Not exactly. But you knew you would be, eventually. Ending things would hurt like hell at first, but you’d recover. You had from every other heartbreak you’ve experienced in your life, after all.

You’re surprised when your phone vibrates in your palm, an instant reply from Van: Don’t seem fine.

Shit. Maybe he’s been paying a bit more attention than you thought. You double down on your lie: It’s fine Van.

The three dots pop up before you can even lock your phone: ??

You click your screen off, tossing your phone beside you on the bench. It bounces with a soft thud, and you rest your head in your hands, trying to take a deep breath.

Everyone’s advice starts to echo in your mind: He sounds like a keeper! You’d be an idiot to let him go! Make it work! Offered up so happily as if those were actually options, as if there was any fucking possibility Van felt the same way about you.

It completely overwhelms you then, how in over your head you are. There had been moments where you’d felt a speck of hope, signs that maybe he wanted more than this casual thing, but now it’s been six months of spending time together, and exactly zero attempts by him to broach the subject. It all hits you then, all the emotions you’ve been keeping controlled while you tried to enjoy your night out, and before you know it you’re in tears.

It’s only a few tears at first, but letting go feels so good you give in to it, the car silent except for your loud sniffles and the occasional shaky breath. The Uber driver, to his credit, doesn’t react as you silently bawl your eyes out in the backseat.

Your phone goes off again from where it’s facedown, light seeping out of the sides. You leave it there, for once not pathetically controlled by Van’s moment-to-moment whim. A little laugh bubbles out of you at that thought, and you think absentmindedly that you must sound absolutely crazy, but you’re too drunk to care, the alcohol carrying that thought away as you continue your catharsis.

Time slips by in jumps and starts, your tears slowing eventually, and by the time the car turns onto your block you’re excited to get inside, make yourself a hot mug of tea, and continue your cry in private. Your house is the only one on your side of the street with the light on, and so you watch it slide into view as the car makes its way down the road.

“It’s that one,” You snuffle, “With the light on.”

As the car approaches, your blood goes cold.

Your first instinct is to assume it’s some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination. You wipe the tears from your eyes furiously, but when you look again there’s no mistaking it. The porch light is cascading down your front lawn, and Van’s silhouette is perched on your front steps, smoking a cigarette.

“Here you go, ma’am,” The driver stops the car and unlocks the door for you. As soon as the car pulls up Van tosses his cigarette onto the front path and stomps it out, standing up. You watch him through the car window in disbelief before you grab your things, give a numb thank you, and get out of the car.

There’s a stretch of silence as the Uber pulls away where you stand right outside of the front gate, unable to do anything except gape at Van.

A car suddenly whizzes down your road, and you realize how close you are to being in the street. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You exclaim, the clatter of the gate clicking closed behind you echoing with your voice off of the silent houses around you.

“I came here to get some answers!” Van says, exasperated. “You won’t tell me nothin’!”

“There’s nothing to say!” You gesture with your arms as you reach the steps, face to face with him. “There’s no answers to get!”

“You’ve been cryin’!” Van gestures towards you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” You wipe at your undereye self consciously and look down at your finger. There’s a smear of mascara. You sigh before moving past Van up the stairs, headed for the front door. He follows.

“Did I do something?” He asks, coming into your peripheral vision. “If I did, just tell me! Let me make this right.”

You look through your purse for your keys, ignoring him.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t do anything on purpose!”

You continue your search for your keys, keeping your head down.

“Fuck,” You say quietly to yourself as you sweep your bag for the third time and fail. You click your phone on, switching on the flashlight and lighting up your bag.

Van groans in frustration, wiping a hand through his hair. “Y/N!”

“What?” You snap at him, looking up. You’ve finally found your key and you jam it into the door, clicking it unlocked.

“Why are you ignorin’ me?” He pleads.

“Van,” You start, trying to keep your voice steady. You look up at him then, and you feel like your breath’s been punched out of you. The light is illuminating him from behind, a halo of golden light that catches each strand of frizz and accentuates the sharp line of his chin. His hair’s grown out since the spring, the light snagging the curls that are upturned at the nape of his neck. You swallow thickly. His eyes are wide in confusion.

“I think we need to end things,” You say quietly, struggling to see through a fresh batch of tears.

His jaw hangs slightly ajar. “What?” He asks in disbelief.

Your eyes are welling up again, and you wipe at them, a mess of mascara on your hands. “We’re done,” You tell him, voice wobbling, as you swing the door open and head inside.

He doesn’t give you a chance to shut the door in his face, heading in right behind you. “You’re fucking joking! What have I done?”

You head straight for the bathroom, examining yourself in the mirror. You cringe inwardly at yourself and grab for your makeup wipes, trying to make yourself look a little less pathetic.

Van is standing in the front room. “I’m not leaving until we talk about this,” He says loudly so you can hear him from behind the bathroom door.

You don’t respond, wiping away your eyeliner vigorously.

“I said I’m sorry!”

You sigh to yourself.

“Look, I-”

“Listen, Van!” You cut him off from the other room. You swing the door open, marching out. “It’s like you said in the hotel that one time, remember? We’re supposed to be simple, easy. And that was working great. You stop by at your convenience, and I throw everything else out of the fucking window to spend time with you. And then you just fucking… disappear! For two months! And it- I-” You struggle to find any words, your voice fading out as you feel yourself start to cry again. And I love you. I miss you.

Van throws his arms up. “I didn’t mean it like that at all, c’mon! It’s not at my convenience! I was working! I wasn’t trying to ignore ya! I try my hardest to come around!”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. When he speaks again, he’s quieter. “It wasn’t like that, honest.”

“I just can’t do this anymore,” You try desperately to explain. “This whole ‘simple’ thing is killing me. The long trips out to see you, and I’m lucky if I get to see you for two whole days…” Your words are interrupted by an embarrassingly pathetic sob, Van’s eyes widening at your outpouring of emotion.

“Please don’t tell me you think this whole thing was about having you around just for a fuck,” Van pleads. “You’re my best mate! I can’t help that I travel a lot!”

You bury your face in your hands.

Van sighs, moving towards you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” He says earnestly. “C’mon. I’m sorry. Get out of that dress and we can turn a film on, yeah? Or we can go grab some food. Whatever you wanna do.”

You groan into your palms, the sound echoing in your ears. He just wasn’t getting it.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Van offers, his voice soft. “I didn’t… I’m sorry if it seemed like I was using you, or something.”

“But then we’ll go out to eat, and everything’ll be fine tonight, but it’s still gonna be the same! And you’re gonna be so busy with tour, and it’s not fair to me when you’re not around, and I can’t spend my whole life roadtripping with you!”

“The bulk of this leg is over!” Van argues, “And I don’t mind if you’re busy. It’ll be your turn to text me like I’ve been texting you, yeah?” The corner of his lips quirk up in a tired smile.

“Oh my God, Van,” You groan again. You take a long, frustrated inhale. It was now or never, you realize, because he might be the best man you’ve ever been with, but he’s still completely clueless.

“I’m trying to tell you I fucking love you!” You yell, throwing your arms up. “I fucking love you! I don’t want simple and easy! I want you!”

You feel like you’re about to faint from the admission. For a terrifying moment all of the blood rushes to your head, and the only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve put all your cards on the table, and there was no going back. Van might’ve been eager to fix things moments ago, but he could very well change his entire attitude now that the truth is out.

While you stand there, terrified, you notice his tired smile start to stretch into a grin.

“What?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

“I love you,” You repeat, no longer yelling. Your throat hurts. It feels like the dust settling after an explosion, but your heart is skipping because Van isn’t running, not yet.

“Are you saying that I’m not simple? Or easy?” Van jokes, still beaming.

“No.” You feel a small laugh of relief bubble up. “I know it’s hard. With the traveling, and the label deadlines and stuff. But I’ve had the trial period. I wanna be able to text you and ask what you’re doing without seeming all clingy. And I don’t wanna go days without hearing from you!” Van groans at that. “And I want you to be able to tell everyone that I’m your girlfriend. Not your mate!” You say that part with a glare, remembering the conversation between him and Bondy you’d overhead by the ice machine in Detroit.

“You heard that?” Van groans again, laughing. “I didn’t know what to say! He caught me by surprise!”

“And I want my family to be able to meet you!” You add on, “Not have to lie and pretend you’re busy with band stuff because you wouldn’t come in!”

Van’s jaw drops slightly at that. “I wanted to come in!” He confesses, “I thought you were asking as an afterthought! To be polite!” He runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to say yes.”

He wraps his arms around you now, pulling you in close.

“I love you, too,” He admits. “And I have for a long fucking time! I’m sorry it didn’t seem like it. I thought you liked this whole ‘simple’ thing. I was playing it up for your sake!” He sways you back and forth while you bury your head in his chest, wrapping your arms around him.

“I can’t believe you,” You shake your head against him in exasperation. You lift your head suddenly, your face inches from his. “When did you know?”

Van puffs his cheeks up with air, releasing it with a whoosh as you watch his eyes flit through the air while he considers. “On the couch on the tour bus,” He tells you. “I mean, I already did, but that was my moment of… yeah.” One side of his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

“Well, I win,” You tease. “Because I realized it backstage in Phoenix.”

Van’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re fucking joking!” He laughs, “And you’ve been keeping it a secret since?”

“Yeah!” You exclaim, lifting your hands from where they’re resting on his sides to gesture at him. “You were making it pretty fucking clear you weren’t interested in dating!”

“Oh, yeah?” Van challenges, his playful grin reappearing. “More clear than you attempting to break things off with me?”

“Oh, stop,” You huff, pointing to your puffy eyes and splotchy face. “Clearly you can see it wasn’t an easy decision!”

“Fuck, I thought you had it out for me,” Van laughs, letting one of his hands fall from your back so that he can run it through his hair. “Whatever I did, I was ready to accept your wrath.”

“You don’t even know,” You start, burying your face in his shirt again. Your tears are back, overwhelmed with relief that the truth was finally out, that Van loved you the same way you loved him. “This has been tearing me apart for months now.”

“Me too,” Van sighs, his palm rubbing up and down your spine. “I even told you on accident that one time.”

You freeze, trying to understand what he meant.

“Wait,” You lift your head, stepping back from him. “Are you talking about that phone call?”

“Yeah.”

At this your jaw drops. You’ve stepped out of Van’s arms, and he’s keeping his hands busy by rolling the sleeves of his button-up over his forearms. “You said you didn’t remember it!”

“I told you I loved you!” Van’s clearly embarrassed, his cheeks burning pink. “And I got all soppy about being apart on my birthday!”

“I said I loved you back!” You shout in complete disbelief. “We both admitted we loved each other and you didn’t think anything of it?”

“I was drunk! I thought you were taking pity on me! Give me a break!”

Oh God, he was impossible. You open your mouth to ridicule him further, but instead you step toward him again, cupping his jaw and bringing your lips together. There’s no sense in arguing about it anymore. Clearly you’d both been oblivious, but what did it matter now that everything had worked out?

Well, technically, you had no idea what the road ahead would bring for you two. But you’ve made it this far, right? Seven months of navigating these unspoken rules between you two, it feels like things can only get easier now that they’re dissolving right before your eyes. You kiss Van harder, and when your lips open for him it feels like all of the possibilities opening up before you: Van was your fucking boyfriend now.

In the thrill of your realization you reach for his belt buckle, struggling to undo it while you’re distracted by the kiss.

After fussing with it for longer than normal you feel the warm press of Van’s lips being pulled away, his hands coming to wrap around yours.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” He remarks in amusement, brushing your hands aside and undoing his own belt.

“Because I love you,” You confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Van chuckles, giving you another quick kiss. “Whew, how much did you have? I feel like I took a shot just fucking kissing ya.”

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him bluntly. “Help me out of this dress.”

Van knows you’re right because he obliges, tossing your jean jacket in the vicinity of the couch before helping you undo the zipper that runs down your back. Soon your dress has fallen around your ankles, tripping you up as you step out of the puddle of fabric on your heels.

Van’s hands reach out, steadying you. “Christ,” He laughs, guiding you to the couch. “Need help getting those heels off?”

“Please,” You sigh, flopping down on the couch in your bra and underwear, extending your legs out towards Van, who gets down on his knees to be of assistance. His fingers easily undo the straps around your ankles, releasing your feet from the hazard of your heels in no time.

His fingers tuck into the waistband of your underwear next, tugging them down your thighs and depositing them on the ground before his head’s between your legs.

You sigh happily, slumping against the cushions as you pet his hair. You can’t remember the last time you were as content as you were right now; having drunk sex with your boyfriend, the person you loved and trusted most in the world.

Your entire body feels like a warm puddle of endless summers and pleasure, but suddenly a thought pierces through the fog in your brain, and you shoot upright in your seat so fast that Van pulls away in concern.

“I have to text Mary!” You remember. Your eyes search around wildly for your bag, and you can feel the air passing between your legs without Van’s mouth keeping you warm.

Van wipes his chin, making to stand up. “Well, text her,” He says, gesturing towards the bedroom door. “Then come meet me in bed.”

You stumble up from the couch, crossing the living room naked and heading into the bathroom, where you’d left your purse.

Hello???? Mary’s sent. Did you get home safe????? Are you okay?!?

Home safe, You send back. Sorry, Van showed up unexpectedly and we talked. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

As soon as you’ve sent it you see the typing indicator pop up. You decide to respond to one last message before catching up to Van so you two can resume your first official romp as a couple.

If you tell me you two are done I’m gonna kill you.

At her words, you grin.

Haha nope. We both realized we’re in love with each other and we’re official now. It’s a long story.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #catb #catb fic #van mccann #van mccann fanfiction #van mccann fic #van fic

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greatcheesiness · 3 years

Text

Hope: MSBY

Synopsis: In which a shooting star decided to make their prayers come true…

Characters: Atsumu/Sakusa/Hinata/Bokuto/Child! Y/n (little cameo) They’re all the same age except Y/n.

Genre: Angst, hopeful, Sad, a bit haunting at the end idk how that happened, mysterious, fate

W.c: 2k9

Moral of the story: Don’t think like this kids. Life is very valuable tsk.

[a/n] pfft I’m back y’all. Y’all missed me? Lmao no one asked. I have arrived with another short piece to satisfy your masochistic selves. I had no Wi-Fi and I thought I wasn’t gonna live a normal life. I was also a lazy bean who promised to work out but ended up eating Danish bread. They’re really good ngl. I did not proofread this so I am sorry for the errors. Sleep deprived again. I didn’t proofread this, sorry.

edit: this is a repost. I don’t think this was sent properly.

Little sparks emerged from the blazing mixture of red and orange. The colour of fiery and passion. But in the middle, there was a vibrant colour of yellow. Even if a person is angry and the things they do will not go as passionate, there’s always a little bit of hope. That was what Sakusa interpreted as he observed the fire. The ashy smoke floated upward into the sky and turned invisible where they will not be seen again. That is what they want, right? Just to die out...

“I’m going to find some more wood,” Bokuto said out of the blue and stood up from the barky log he just sat on. Hinata got a fright that he almost fell off of his side of the log. Bokuto then ran towards the darkened woods. Hinata’s eyes widened. He scuttled backwards and jogged into the woods, just to make sure he doesn’t wander off. Just to make sure he’s safe.

“Kotaro, wait up!” he shouted and the woods mimicked his voice of worry. It was a cold night. A blanket of navy covered the sky with a sprinkle of shimmering stars.

“I hope they don’t get lost. I heard that this is the largest forest in our area or perhaps the whole country,” the blonde head muttered. His fingers fiddling on to silver key necklace dearest to his heart. It was a gift given by his grandma just the day before her decease. That day felt like the day he lost a true friend. Sakusa stared into the sky. To become one of those shiny sequences high up the vast navy.

Small, slender, slim sticks were thrown into the fire by Atsumu. His eyes granted no mercy as he stared at them burning in the little hell he created. Sakusa could see the reflection of the fire in his chocolate eyes. Knowing the reason, he sighed. It conveyed his feelings. His pent up fury.

The long silence was interrupted by a trivial question. “Have you ever thought of what you want to become as you grow older?” Atsumu wondered. He had never really heard or knew much about Sakusa despite having each other’s presence in existence for a while. He blinked, his long lashes brushed through the air. “I don’t know,” he simply replied. His voice so curt that Atsumu’s feelings were hurt. He clutched his heart with a pain expression to emphasise the dramatic. “Omi kun, y’know that’s not the answer I want,” he whined at him. There he goes again, Sakusa thought.

Atsumu hummed as he looked at the fire “Y’know.., it has always been my dream to become an astronaut. What do ya think Omi kun?” Sakusa scrunched his face at the thought. “What should I think??” The only responsive thought he had for that confession was that it was unbelievable to be true. He thought he wanted to become a volleyball player and join the national team. Maybe get the hot girlfriend of his dreams while he’s at it. But an astronaut? Does he even have the grad-?

“Haha if only I had the grades. I can see it right through you Omi kun,” he smirked as he pointed the stick at him held by his fingers. “To bad I’m not a smartass like my twin brother. Such a nerd without glasses,” he murmured at the mentions of his twin.

“Achieving high grades doesn’t make you a stereotypical ne-“

“I said what I said, Omi kun. I said what I said”

Sakusa stayed quiet after that. He had nothing else to add after that mild conversation. His eyes lingered at the book lying on the grassy ground. Atsumu’s five year old diary. To this day, he still remembered the contents inked in those pages. Hinata and Bokuto saw them as well. He pitied Atsumu, but dared not to speak a word of it. In that diary, Atsumu undergone what you call affliction. Even now, it still disturbed them.

Beside them, they set up a telescope that they had recently bought. They got it after dodging that expensive price. Bokuto’s bargaining skills were useful. The trees waved side to side with the gusting wind. Sakusa’s dark curls wavered. They’ve always wanted to see the stars together. Earlier this day, they heard from the news that there was going to be a shooting star passing earth. It was very exciting as no one would ever expect to see something like this in their time of life.

There was a lot of things around their temporary property. Tents set up, sleeping bags, coats, stocks of food and drinks, you name it. They fully decided that they would never ever come back home. All of them hated where they came from. It just wasn’t for them.

At around five or six in the evening, the four of them were in school cleaning up toilets and classrooms. This was Sakusa’s nightmare. His duty was in the boys’ toilet. All the grime, stench, dirtiness tainted each cubicle he entered. He felt like regurgitating, but if he was going to faint, at least faint outside the bathroom. Nonetheless, he pushed through this hell and managed it somehow.

Suddenly, a burning smell wavered through the air and entered his nostrils, sending him to alarm. He rushed out of the boys’ bathrooms. His eye’s enlarged at the sight of flames eating the corridors. His mouth gaped as he stood petrified. What in the world?

Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from danger. Sakusa turned around to see it was Bokuto. His heart was racing as he tried to process what the fuck just occurred. “Kotaro, what on earth is going on?!” He didn’t answer for a while until they’ve reached outside the burning school.

“It was Atsumu’s doing. He threw a cigarette in the bin and the bin caught on fire!” Bokuto used his arms to demonstrate the fire. Sakusa glared at Atsumu and grabbed him by the collar. “I know you hate this fucking place, but did you have to fucking burn down the school!?” Atsumu shoved him away from him. “So what if I fucking did?!” Sakusa’s eyes were filled with anger. Who goes to this extent from hatred? Especially from a teenager.

“You… YOU BASTARD!” he cursed at his selfishness. A punch swung onto Atsumu’s face and he fell to the ground in an instant. The blond head swiped the blood off his busted lips and gave him a deadly glare. Oh if looks could kill…He collided into Sakusa causing him to cough out his saliva. Therefore, a dog fight transpired between them. Sakusa had no care for the dirt sticking on to him as his only goal was to knock some god damn sense into Atsumu’s brain.

Hinata panicked and attempts to pull Atsumu away while Bokuto did the same for Sakusa. “Look we tried to extinguish it with a fire extinguisher! But it…it just wouldn’t work at all!” Hinata explained while he still held onto Atsumu. Sakusa’s brows furrowed. “Then what the fuck did you do then?” All three of them looked at each other. “We ditched it,” Bokuto shrugged his shoulders “It would go out”

Sakusa groaned in his clammy palms. Oh my fucking god…Since this happened, what’s gonna happen to them? Will they all get in to trouble? Obviously. Should they just mention that it was Atsumu’s fault and he shall bear the consequence? Or should all of them step out and stay along with the blond retard? Everyone remained quiet. Sirens were heard and police cars and fire brigade were approaching their way.

“Do you just want to go home and pack our stuffs secretly? We can buy that telescope we all wanted and watch the shooting star that’s coming tonight….”

And that’s how they ended up here, in the meadow deep into the woods where no one will find them. If they decided to give up on them, just like how the others would. Sakusa admitted that it was a beautiful scenery. Atsumu and he didn’t fight anymore. What’s done has been done. Everything happens for a reason.

Hinata and Bokuto arrived with more sticks cradled in their arms. They were dropped onto the beryl green grass. After that, Hinata plopped down and his chest heaving up and down “Oi no more. I’m tired from running around,” he waved his hand at him without looking at Bokuto. The owl-like man plastered a huge grin on his face “You lack strength, Chibi chan. C’mon toughen up those muscles,” Bokuto wacked his shoulders that sent Chibi forward. They laughed. Only the corner of Sakusa’s lips curved.

Boys in pain come together to diminish those pains.

A spark occurred in the middle of the dark sky. Hinata noticed this first and mirthfully swore “Guys I see it!” All of them ran to the telescope, even having little arguments of who should go first. It ended up being Atsumu. The rest of them quietened down and all they could do was admire. It was absolutely spectacular without a doubt. Not only was one shooting star but there a shower of them. A celebration perhaps?

“There’s so many of them! We should make a wish,” Hinata encouraged. All of them clasped their hands together with their eyes closed. Sakusa joined and he wished that he would have a happy life. That was all he wanted.

“Atsumu…”

“……”

“Atsumu… is that other shooting star approaching us or am I losing my mind?” Hinata asked worriedly. His knees shook like jelly. “Atsumu...” His body quivered with uncontrollable nervousness. Atsumu didn’t say anything back but gulped. “Well aren’t you going to answer us?” Bokuto asked with a lump in his throat.

Sakusa gazed up, following the track of the star before it split into two after crashing a certain part of the atmosphere. He knew. Everyone knew, that it was bound to reach them any minute.

“Will be able to get out of here in time?” Bokuto asked fretfully, brushing his hands through his grey strands. It wouldn’t be called a shooting star anymore. It was meteorite. The little thing drew closer and closer each time they blinked.

They just knew they wouldn’t make it out in time…

Atsumu sighed. “I’m staying here. I have nothing in this world to live for,” he gazed up and muttered as salty essence well up his chocolate eyes. He said it quietly, yet it was enough to be understood. He walked around a log and sat down with his head hung low. It was getting closer. Hinata swiftly sat beside him with his arms wrapped around him. His eyes closed “I’m staying with you. Staying with you until the end. Who knows we might end up somewhere beautiful. A magical land called Us”

When he said those words, a tear rolled down from Sakusa’s glistening ebony orbs. All of them wanted that. For a long time. A magical land called Us. This world gave them so much pain to the point that they had to imagine a wonderful world.

Bokuto, who used to use happiness to shield his sadness, embraced the both of them. The three of them cuddled. Some sniffles and sobs were heard from their trembling lips. Sakusa patted the left side of his chest. He was breathing quite heavily. This was most emotion he had ever displayed. All of them turned their heads to face him. Atsumu’s arm stretched out. He smiled wearily “Come with us”

A lot of thought rushed through his mind. His head went racing. Was this the right choice? Was this what he wanted? What he if he still want to liv-

Before he could move a muscle, a bright, yellowish light flared behind them. His eyes reflected the light. Everything happened so fast and after that, they…. vanished. Long forgotten in this world.

“A lot of things have happened during this week. Firstly, the “shooting star” also known as a meteorite, crashed in the meadow of (xxx) wood, the largest in this country. No one has expected this phenomenon to split into two and destroy so much nature. Even almost damaging some parts of nearby towns. Another talked about topic, is the burned down school at (xxx) province with four boys that attended that school, missing…”

The little girl watched the enormous meteorite from afar. “Wah it’s huge,” she said as she dangled her tiny little legs. An ice cream was in her hands as she watched the workers inspecting the rock. Maybe they could extract minerals and become filthy rich. She took a lick of the ice cream. The wind was howling that evening. She enjoyed a vanilla ice cream during cold season.

“Y/n, come here!”

Her mother yelled. Y/n shouldn’t be out in the open. It was too dangerous, who knows what will happen. Y/n stood up from the edge of a cliff and admired the amber sky before realizing her ice cream dropped to the ground. Her mouth gaped in disbelief. She paid for that using her own money by collecting reusable garbage for hours. She exhaled and tossed the cone away.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming mom. I’m coming,” she called back. She dusted her hands off her skirt and jogged on. There was a valley close by so she needed to be cautious otherwise she might roll off the cliff and that wouldn’t be good. However, as she took another step, her foot slipped and her face fell flat on the ground. Blood dripped down from her nostrils. “Great…”

Luckily for her, she had an extra packet of tissue deep in her pocket. She took a tissue out and wiped the blood off that dried. All of a sudden, from the corner of her eyes, she caught something shining in the grass. Curiosity aroused her and she moved closer to the object. Mother told her that she shouldn’t take or even touch something that’s not hers. It could bring bad luck.

Y/n didn’t remember her mother’s words when she picked it up. It was a silver necklace that took the shape of a key. “Wow…” she mumbled. It had a simple design to it, yet to her it was the most beautiful thing she had seen that day. The wind blew even harder as the wind whistled.

“Y/n! If you don’t come this instant, I will leave you here,” her mother called out for what seemed like the last time. Y/n shoved the object into her pocket and rushed to her parent. She shuddered. How cold was it? She wrapped her arms around her and rubbed for heat.

“Y/n, what happened to your nose?”

“I just fell”

“That’s karma for not listening to me for the first time. I just fell”

“MOM”

So this was what the afterlife looked like? It looked the same as their world, yet maybe more magical. In this world, there was only the four of them and no one else. It had everything they needed. It was tranquilized. The trees consisted of wisteria. All of their stuff that they had with them before their very last breaths was placed exactly the same way, same place. However, the boys weren’t there.

A burning door stood in the middle of the meadow. All of them watched it, sitting down with bittersweet smiles on their faces. Was it worth it after all? Atsumu was the first one to hop off his position and run out into the wild. His appearance changed. He took the form of a little boy and had a book about stars in his hands. Ten years of age. The last time he felt a sense of happiness before all crashed down. Hinata turned back to a fifteen year old and Bokuto, a twelve year old. It made Sakusa feel old. He remained the same after all their transformations. A seventeen year old.

The last time he felt happy was just a few months ago. Despite that, he never really intended to die. It was just a last minute wish he made that he regretted. He believed to have many things to do on his bucket list. It was too late somehow and he thought that this new life wasn’t bad after all. He could maybe tick them all of in this afterlife.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a necklace. His brows furrowed at it and he leaned forward to capture it. Now it laid on his palm and began his inspection. It was an open door with no handle… He gulped. What was the meaning of this? If he was being honest, Atsumu didn’t have his grandma’s necklace with him. He started connecting the dots.

The fire stopped burning the door. He looked up and moved backwards. It was dark and the atmosphere couldn’t be anymore spookier. He whimpered and started to shake.

A little girl clad in a ripped strawberry dress. Her shoes dirtied. Her skin pale as snow. Her hair in a dishevelled state and her eyes were the worst. They were fully pitch black. And before Sakusa knew it, he ran as fast as he could and…

…never turned back.

The shooting star, after all, just granted their wishes. Without them knowing the consequences…

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyu x reader #hq atsumu #hq hinata #bokuto x reader #sakusa x reader #y/n #atsumu x reader #hinata shoyuo #bokuto #atsumu #msby sakusa #msby black jackal

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imaginenola · 5 years

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Love in Louisiana

Dwayne Pride x reader

Summary: Reader is an agent on Gibbs’ team in D.C., and is sent to New Orleans to help investigate a joint case. Reader and Pride start to feel attracted to each other. Reader’s hotel reservations are cancelled and Pride offers her to stay with him above the Tru Tone. Really cute n fluffy Pride at the end (:

Requested By: @raulmonamour

Words: 2,235

Warnings: fluff + talk of underwear ??? idk

Notes: requests are open! I got this request and it was super super cute, I’m in love with this oneshot! thank you for requesting!

The last thing you wanted was to be on a plane flying to New Orleans, but here you were. You were a Special Agent for the NCIS Washington D.C. division, and you were a member of Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ team.

This particular case, the murder of two Petty Officers who were having a forbidden affair, had brought you down to the New Orleans division of NCIS.

One of the victims, the female, had lived in New Orleans, and served there for over five years. That was why your boss sent you to investigate her life and service down in New Orleans, specifically in Belle Chasse.

The reason you weren’t particularly excited to be working this case from Louisiana was because your aunt, your only family in D.C., was in the hospital with ovarian cancer. You were the only person she had left, and after everything she’d done for you, you owed her so much. But if you were all the way in New Orleans, there was nothing you could do besides call.

You were being picked up by NCIS Special Agent Dwayne Pride, a man whom you knew only through videoconferences and phone calls. You knew enough about him to know he was one of the kindest, most selfless men on the job. And you couldn’t wait to meet him.

You got off the plane quickly and grabbed your suitcase from baggage claim. As you headed towards the lot where Agent Pride was supposed to pick you up, you noted the tropical climate and extreme heat, even from inside the airport.

You rolled your suitcase through the sliding doors which led you to parking lot 4A. You took a moment to adjust your suit, making sure your badge was visible on your waist.

“Special Agent (y/l/n), it’s a pleasure to finally meet ya in person!” You heard a deep voice call from your left, car already parked in a front spot.

“You as well, Agent Pride,” you grinned, shaking his hand. Before you could stop him, he was already putting your suitcase in the trunk.

“Wow, I can’t believe this architecture, Agent Pride!” You marveled, as Pride drove through the city. You knew New Orleans was beautiful, but not this beautiful. It was tempting you to stay even longer than just the weekend.

“Just wait ‘til ya see the NCIS building. I’ve got a feelin’ you’ll really like it. And Agent (y/l/n), please call me Dwayne.”

“Of course, Dwayne. And you can call me (y/n),” you said, keeping your eyes out the window.

“Everythin’ alright?” Dwayne asked.

“Yeah, I know this case is important but I just wish I was here at any other time. My aunt, the only family I have in D.C., is in the hospital. And of course, Agent Gibbs has to send me down to New Orleans to get information on some dead girl, something any of your agents could’ve done. You don’t even need me on this case,” you grumbled.

“I know Gibbs, and everything he does is for a reason. Maybe he wants ya working this angle because you’ll be able to find tha best intel,” Dwayne suggested.

“Actually, you might be onto something. Female officer, lived someplace far away, transferred because she was in love with both her job and her partner. No wonder Gibbs added ‘put yourself in her shoes’ in my case file,” you mused. You caught a quick glance of Dwayne as he grinned, ear-to-ear. He was pretty attractive, you had to admit. But you were strictly here on business.

All of a sudden, Dwayne pulled up to a gorgeous, two-story building with the NCIS insignia on the side. It was vastly different than your D.C. office, and surprisingly, you took an immediate liking to it.

It was later in the evening, and you didn’t see any other agents in the squad room. “Here’s a spare desk for ya,” Dwayne motioned to a bare, wooden desk near his.

“(Y/n)!” You heard a familiar Alabama accent exclaim from what looked like a kitchen. You were very confused. A kitchen? Inside the office building?

“Agent LaSalle!” You exclaimed, extending a hand. You were taken by surprise when Chris pulled you into a hug.

“Finally, ah get to meet 'cha in person!” He exclaimed, and you both laughed.

“I can’t believe you have a kitchen in your building!” You marveled, taking another glance around the room. Everything was historical and beautiful. Back in D.C., everything looked like the stale office building it was.

“Wait until ya see the courtyard! You’re here for that double murder case, I hear. Hey, do ya need a ride to Belle Chasse? I don’t live too far from the Navy Yard, and I can bring you there on ma’ way home,” LaSalle offered.

Before you could respond, Dwayne interjected. “Thanks for the offer, Chris, but I’m helpin’ (y/n) with her file first.”

“Ah can help too, King-”

“Chris, it’s gettin’ late, almost ten o'clock. You’ve been here long enough. Go home, get some rest, and recharge for tomorrow. All of us can help (y/n) with the case when we’re all here,” Pride declared. And that was the end of the conversation.

You gave one last goodbye to LaSalle as he headed out. Soon, it was just you and Pride.

“Ya gotta be uncomfortable in that suit,” Dwayne laughed, and you saw that infectious smile again. The one that gave you the uncontrollable urge to lean over and plant a kiss on his lips.

“It’s alright, I’m used to wearing suits all the time. In fact, the only clothes I brought on this trip are my suits,” you admitted, and Dwayne was taken aback.

“I wish I had somethin’ else for you to wear, but all of ma’ clothes are in my new apartment above the Tru Tone. I’m in the process of moving from upstairs into my new place,” Pride explained.

“Wait, upstairs as in upstairs here?”

“Yep. I’ve lived here for a while, since I got divorced and ma’ daughter left for college. The Tru Tone is ma’ bar, it was tha bar my mother used to sing at when I was younger. I was actually gonna ask if you’d like to come with me tonight. So you can experience a piece New Orleans while you’re down here.”

As good as his offer sounded, you knew you were strictly here to work. And sure it was getting late, but if you were in D.C., you’d be at your desk, working 'til the sun came up. It was just how you ran things.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dwayne. I should really start investigating,” you responded.

“What about we stop there so I can get you a t-shirt, at least somethin’ for you to sleep in. Then, we can find a quiet table in the back to work at. It’s getting late, ya won’t be able to get much work done other than collectin’ research on the victim.”

“Okay,” you caved, but mostly because your heart lept at the thought of falling asleep wearing Dwayne Pride’s shirt.

“Thanks for doing this. You didn’t have to. I would’ve been fine sleeping in my blouse and work pants,” you admitted.

“Oh, nonsense. Louisiana nights can sometimes be just as hot as tha days,” Dwayne explained, “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

He left, heading upstairs to grab a comfortable shirt for you. You ignored every other signal your brain was sending you as you made your way to the very back of the Tru Tone. It was a Friday night, and everyone was having fun drinking and listening to the live band. Everyone but you.

You had just cracked open the case file when your phone rang. The caller ID was your hotel, which you were set to check into in an hour.

“Hello,” said a voice on the other line, “is this (y/n) (y/l/n)?”

“This is she.”

“I am very sorry to have to call you this close to your check in time, but it seems as if there has been a mix-up. Your room was accidentally double booked.”

“Double booked?”

“There is currently a guest checked into your room, and they aren’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow night. Now we may be able to get you a new room, but there will be another surcharge fee, and you won’t be able to check in until two am, to allow us ample time-”

“That’s okay, I’m sure I can find another place to stay. Thanks anyway,” you said, and hung up the phone. You buried your head in your hands, wondering if anything could possibly make this worse.

“Are you alright?” Dwayne asked, handing you a large, soft shirt, “I looked for anything for your bottom half, but I’ve got nothin’ that would fit 'cha, unfortunately. What’s wrong, (y/n)?”

“My hotel just called me, said they double-booked my room. I wouldn’t be able to check in until two in the morning. I don’t know what to do,” you groaned.

“Well, you’re in luck! Ma’ bed was just delivered yesterday, so I’d like to formally extend you an invitation to stay with me for the night,” Pride offered, waiting expectantly for your answer.

You accepted, and before you knew it, you were being swept upstairs to Pride’s living space. Boxes were strewn around the room, pushed into corners and crevices. But nothing could deny the beauty of the chandeliers and decor. And the balcony, oh the balcony!

“This is so kind of you, Dwayne, but I hate to intrude.”

“Nonsense, you’re makin’ my evening exciting! If it’s alright with you, I’ll pull out some of ma’ tools and make ya some gumbo.”

“But shouldn’t you be down at the bar?” You asked, cautiously. You felt out of place in this beautiful, historical building with the kindest man in all of New Orleans, working at a place with a kitchen in the office. You were familiar with cubicles and orange walls and every investigation done by-the-book. You felt out of place and behind on your work.

“No way, they can handle it without me for a night. For now, ma’ focus is on helping you with this case. Since I’m familiar with Naval operations in Belle Chasse, I should be able to at least outline her day-to-day routine at work. And you’ll be able to fill in the blanks, put yourself in-” Dwayne stopped to read the file, “Lucy Goldstein’s shoes.”

“In order to have met her lover, Jim Tolbert, she would’ve had to spent some time in the office building. Could she have done filing work? Possibly even disobeyed orders to step outside of her job and take on another job in order to get close to this man?” You wondered aloud.

“I think it’s more likely that she would’ve asked someone to cover for her, at least while workin’ at Belle Chasse. In the early stages of their relationship, it wouldn’t have been as likely that she’d give up doing her job completely in order to spend time with Petty Officer Tolbert. She would’ve taken baby steps at first, in order to reach her way up to the ultimate defiance,” Dwayne paused, letting you finish his thought.

“Which was giving up her job in order to follow Tolbert. Problem was, she didn’t completely leave the Navy when she went to D.C., so we aren’t sure if she quit or just took a sabbatical,” you added, a yawn following.

“Either option is very probable, and if she didn’t quit or transfer, we won’t be able to find any evidence. So our best move is to talk to those who worked with Petty Officers Goldstein and Tolbert tomorrow, and see if they’ve got any insight into their relationship,” Dwayne finished, waiting for you to respond.

It took him a split second to realize that you were asleep on his shoulder. You looked so beautiful in his shirt with nothing underneath.

The two of you had just spent three hours sorting out personal information on the dead petty officers, eating Pride’s gumbo, and talking about your lives in the moments between. He had known you for many months, in person only a day, but he felt something for you that he hadn’t felt since his ex-wife. It scared him, knowing that you’d be gone by Monday, and he wouldn’t see you again until another case linked D.C. and NOLA together.

Pride closed the file, leaving everything on his dusty coffee table. He was going to sleep on the couch tonight, and you were to sleep in his gloriously comfy king-sized bed.

He picked you up, gentle as could be without exposing your underwear. He accidentally caught a glimpse, feeling ashamed of himself. But they were grey briefs, exactly what he would’ve guessed.

“Dwayne,” you groaned as he lay you on top of his bed. Oh, how he loved your sleepy voice saying his name.

“Yes, darlin’?” he joked.

“You’re sleeping in here tonight. No arguments,” you said, patting the open side of the bed.

Dwayne tucked you in, shut off the light, then crawled under the covers himself, making sure to keep enough distance from you. He was a southern gentleman, that would never change. But who was he to refuse an offer to sleep in his own bed with a pretty girl?

#dwayne pride #dwayne pride imagine #dwayne pride x reader #ncis #ncis imagine #ncis new orleans #ncis new orleans imagine #ncis x reader

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eggdotjpeg · 5 years

Text

Hey so I wrote this chapter of a shitty story I might be continuing? idk how much I will update this, just remind me of it. Anyway. I’m putting the first chapter under the cut (hopefully, I don't really know how this works). I’ll start writing the second chapter now. Enjoy I guess? Oh yeah, this chapter is for 69 followers but the next one more so. Haven’t really edited this either, so if there are any mistakes then feel free to point them out!

The Five Fingers

Chapter One: I Can See a Man With a Baseball Bat

It was a late night on the 6th of September, or rather, an early morning, and Hubert Cumberdale was curled up in his bed, lying awake and waiting for just the right time. As the seconds ticked by, Hubert felt himself fill with more and more anticipation. His hands were shaking as he leaned over to grab his phone resting on his bedside table. He carefully unlocked it and opened his Instagram app. He checked the time and went into the group chat he had with his friends Marjory Stewart-Baxter, Jeremy Fisher and Milford Cubicle.

“420 blaze it lmao”, Hubert carefully typed into the chat.

“Go to sleep Hubert you’ve got to have energy for the movie release tomorrow”, quickly replied Marjory.

“You’re no fun, goodnight MUM!”

“Goodnight Hubert.”

After reading Marjory’s reply, Hubert made sure his alarm was set for 10 and put his phone back down and fell asleep.

As sleep took over Hubert’s tired body, his mind was filled with a bright light, and then coming out of the smoke was Morgan Freeman. Morgan invited Hubert to sit and he did so. Morgan stared into his eyes and said with utmost certainty “You know I had to do it to em’”

Hubert spun around and saw him. Glowing. He spun back around to find Morgan gone. He woke up to his alarm.

He grumbled and turned off his alarm when he remembered. Today is the day. After quickly showering, he walked over to his closet to pick up the outfit that he had laid out the previous day. It was a simple white shirt with blue sleeves that went up to his elbows, and brightly coloured blue jeans. He walked over to his mirror and began to style his hair. He took two pieces at the front and make them stick up and then fall down, much like dog’s ears.

Hubert still had an hour and a half until he had to leave, so he decided to watch Bill Wurtz’s latest video. Before it, a 30 second ad started playing. Hubert decided to pay attention to the ad to see if it could give him any life changing advice for the day.

“Has you really been far, even as decided to use, even go want to look more like? Call 985-655-2500 inside the details for. Go further and even more decided to use! You can really be far as decided twice as much to use and go wish for it. When you decide far even once to use and even go want then get really far, even as decided to use and look more like and go after. It’s just common sense! Apply today.”

These few words held so much meaning to Hubert, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around as to why. He simply shrugged and went into the group chat and sent a message to see what his friends were doing now. Milford was still on his shift at Bunnings, Marjory was at the shops getting snacks and Jeremy had just woken up and was very annoyed.

Hubert decided this was the best time to go to the museum. They just had this new exhibit in that he was very excited to see.

After grabbing his coat, Hubert set off for the museum. It took 12 minutes and 250 seconds to get there, so if he stayed in there for 5 minutes he should be able to make it to the movie just in time.

When Hubert inside the lobby of the museum, he realised he needed a gummy snake to enter the museum. He didn’t bring one, so he walked outside and saw a kitchen table sitting on the road. He figured it would work just as well and walked over and picked it up. He walked back into the museum and gave the table to the receptionist.

“Funny looking gummy worm,” said the receptionist. Hubert merely grunted and took note that he had a nametag which read “Harry”. “Eh, whatever, it’ll do I guess step right in.”

Hubert stepped into the museum and started to make his way over to the new exhibit. He was in a rush, as consulting with the receptionist had taken 10 seconds of his precious time. It was lucky that the theatre was right next to the museum, so he didn’t have to waste time doing such mundane things like walking.

When Hubert neared the new exhibit, he started to smell a strange scent. It smelt of rotting meat. But something about it was different, almost foreign. When it came into sight, Hubert was in shock. It was one of the best things he had ever seen in his life. It was a meat dragon. Something seemed different about this meat dragon in particular. it was different to all the meat dragons he’s seen. What was different became apparent as he neared it. The sign said was entirely made of orphan meat. Truly original.

Then, out of the blue, he saw Harry advancing towards him. Oh god. This couldn’t be good. Then Harry started talking to him. It seemed like gibberish. Then Hubert started paying attention to what he was actually saying, and started to make sense of the nonsensicals.

He looked at his watch and it said he had been here for 2 minutes! Great Scott! He threw a pillow at Harry who ate it up gratefully, and Hubert began quickly running towards the exit, cursing under his breath about how Harry had kept him for 2 minutes. Two minutes too long I’d say! Doesn’t anyone know that no one cares if your pet tardigrade has a child?

He ran out of the museum and bolted into the cinema, coughing up red water. One of the staff members came up to him and offered a candle to help the coughing, but Hubert declined as he was going to be late for his movie. He made it in to his seat with only an hour, 5 minutes, 7 seconds and 32 milliseconds left to spare. He let out a big sigh and wondered where his all his friends were. He was sure they were going to be late!

20 minutes and 4 seconds later, Marjory entered with a 666-kilogram wheel of cheese. Ah, good old Marjory, you could tell she was from Wisconsin just by looking at her.

Hubert was getting worried, there were only 10 minutes until the movie started and Milford and Jeremy still hadn’t arrived. Then, in the blink of an eye, they came bursting in through the cinema doors, panting like doggos.

“Sorry we’re late, there was a lot of traffic so it took an extra 4 seconds,” breathed Jeremy

“You should’ve accounted for that, hurry up and take your seat the movie is about to start”, replied Hubert.

They took their seats as they eagerly waited for the movie to begin.

#the five fingers #i can see a man with a baseball bat #jaz writes

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i-have-been-changed-for-good · 6 years

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Sepia

Monday - I'm at the coffee machine when Scott comes in. Right when he turns the corner, Chris comes around from the wall I'm at. Scott is momentarily sidetracked, but then turns back to me and greets me. He has to walk closer to me cuz Chris is also walking by. Scott smells amazing. When I'm done making my coffee, I go to the mini fridge to grab my creamer. Scott comes walking up right after me to put his lunch in the fridge and grab some water. "I brought in yellow watermelon today." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah. So I'll bring it in during my lunch." I walk back down the hall.

After I wash my smoothie cup and use the bathroom right there, I head back down the hall. Scott is standing up at his computer and I take the opportunity to look him up and down and then rest my eyes on his face. Out of nowhere, he whips his head around at me. I've already got a small smile on my face. Scott doesn't react and merely turns back to his computer.

During lunch, I bring in my yellow watermelon. Scott tries it and says it tastes like regular watermelon. He says he didn't really do much over the weekend. I tell him about my moon ritual on friday: wrote negative things on paper and burned it; made a bath with flowers, bath salts, and a bathbomb; lit a candle; and meditated in the bath. He smiles, and then he asks me if I did it by myself. I'm thrown off guard by this. I wouldn't expect him to know these are usually done alone, but idk who he thinks I would take a bath with? A friend? A guy? Does he not trust me? Is he jealous? Or did he really not mean anything by the question? I say, "No, just me" and then add, "well, my cat joined me." He smiles again. I also told him I had my picnic on Saturday, wore my new bathing suit, and won at bingo. I also say how Sunday I did dinner with my dad cuz my family reunion was cancelled since no alcohol waa allowed and no one wanted to go. He said he wouldn't have gone either. I drop a small piece of watermelon on my chair and wipe the juice left, but it only seems to spread. I go and grab a disinfectant wipe and wipe it, but it's still wet. I end up just switching the chair with the one next to it. "All that for nothing," I say. Scott laughs. His one filling fell out so he has to go to the dentist this week to get it fixed. We end up talking about fruit and yogurt, and Scott says I should try the BlackBerry Oui yogurt, but I tell him blackberry is gross. "We can't seem to agree on fruit," I laugh. I tell scott to try a darker piece of watermelon cuz it's sweeter, and he agrees it is a bit sweeter than regular watermelon. Steve comes in and I ask if he wants a piece. He's never heard of yellow watermelon before and asks if it tastes like the regular. I say no and Scott says yes. Steve can't have any cuz he's having stomach issues and can't eat seeds. I tell Scott the watermelon will be in the mini fridge if he wants any.

Scott goes out to lunch, so he asks me if I want anything. I'm happy he asked since he didn't at all last week.

Scott makes his tea after lunch and I pop out to talk to him. We talk for a few minutes and when we stop, I realize that I am looking at him very sweetly. He's got a small smile on his face.

I go and take an order out into the warehouse and end up passing by Scott. As much as I think I'm awkward, scott has his moments too. He asks me what I'm doing, as if he doesn't know lol.

I end up coming out of my cubicle at the exact moment Scott comes walking out to go use the bathroom. I have no way of knowing when he's going to come out of his office, and I hope he knows this. I have to ask him about an order, so when I hear him come back I go into his office. He had sent an email but didn't copy my department, which he should do. I ask, "Oh, you didn't copy us?" I'm smiling though. He does that slow smile of his and says he didn't. I laugh and leave. I turn to look through Steve's window. Scott is facing my direction, watching me as he sips his tea. When I tell Joyce he did send an email but he didn't copy us, she says "of course not."

Scott makes tea again at the end of the day and I come out to use the bathroom. We give each other little smiles and say, “hey.” That ends up being our last interaction for the day.

Tuesday - I didn’t get to say hi to Scott in the morning when he first walks in. I make my coffee and go to the mini fridge and hear him talking down there. He had just walked away, but then comes back. He sees me and makes that face i cant describe. We say hi.

For some reason, sometimes the warehouse door locks behind people. It doesn't happen that often, and I've never had it happen to me, so idk what goes on. I hear knocking and pause, but no one is coming out of Scott and Steve's office to open it. I get up. Sure enough, it's Scott. Steve is on the phone so he couldn't get the door. "Locking me out?" "No, you locked yourself out." "No I didn't. Who was the last one to go out?" "Uh, probably you." He disagrees with me.

I go to change one of the ink cartridges in the printer, but it had exploded in the box. I go to put it back in the box and Scott comes walking out to go down the hall. I could see he was looking at me. The importance of me adding in these small moments is because Scott has only been looking at me when I'm not looking at him; when I do look, he turns away now.

I have to go to Shoprite for lunch today, so I message him and ask if he wants anything. He tells me non-minty gum, which isn't much to go on. I ask him what flavor and he tells me the trident tropical orange. I go into his office and he gives me money. I ran into several issues on my venture. I come back and tell Scott. There was a detour getting off the highway, so I had to go an extra few miles out of my way to get to shoprite, then when I get there, they had cantaloupe and grapes as the fruit. "Grapes I can understand, but who puts cantaloupe in their salad?? And of course when you go, they have the good fruit like berries and stuff." Then I tell him how I ended up stopping at the tracks by our work cuz there was a long ass train. I'm not a complainer in all honesty, so the way I tell it, I'm smiling and joking. Scott says, "Well if that's the worst that happens to you today, that's not too bad is it?" "Oh I know, I'm not upset I just get annoyed cuz I only have so much time on lunch." Since I got back later than usual and don't feel like scarfing down my lunch, I ask him if I can eat in there and he says "yeah, I don't care." He goes to fill up his cup with water and asks if I need any water. He's so sweet. I go and grab my water and avocado. Scott gets a phone call from a guy that used to work there, but who moved out to California. "Not a bad move," I say. Scott doesn't really agree. He's only been to one part of California. I tell him how I went there once too, but it was Pasadena/L.A. but that I also went to Santa Monica beach, which was really beautiful. I know Scott likes beaches. I tell him today is Harry Potter's birthday and that he's 38. "Really? I thought he was a young guy." "Uhh, the character not the actor." I crack up laughing and Scott smiles and watches me laugh. We end up talking about the greatest shows ever made and talk about Breaking Bad and GoT. He's never seen BB and I've never seen GoT. He tried to watch BB before, but couldn't get too into it. I tell him he has to stick with it.

I go upstairs to wash the bowl I had my avocado stored in so i can put it right back into my lunch bag. As I am about to reach the top of the stairs to go back down, Scott just reaches the top before I do. He smiles when he sees me and we say hi.

Scott gets tea when he comes down but I pop out after he already finishes his tea. His coffee stirrer is in his mouth, so when he sees me, he beams at me with a pursed-lip smile. It's so cute.

I'm in the warehouse when he comes back in from lunch. I turn to look at him through Steve's window as I pass by, and Scott, who had already been looking at me, quickly looks away. Asdfghjkl. Idk why he keeps doing that. I go back out into the warehouse a little later and we look at each other when I come back in. I have a slight smile, but he doesn't. He just has that neutral stare.

When Scott makes his end-of-day tea, I tell him how i had to dump my cpffee earlier because the bottom of the coconut creamer was all chalky and gross. I was supposed to shake it before each use, but immediately forgot after the first time. Whoops. He tells me that I could use his almond creamer, but I had decided to just make tea afterward. I go in end of day to talk to him. I tell him how I was going to bake something pumpkin for tomorrow, but I wasn't sure if anyone would eat it. He laughs and tells me to hold off just a little longer, maybe till like October. "October? But fall starts in September!" I flip up his calendar and my heart sinks, but I gotta pull it back up. Scott has off the first week of September. I mean, just kill me now, Scott, so that I won't have to hurt unbearably later on. Anyway, I find the first day of autumn, which is September 22. I tell him i can bake something around then. He tells me he's looking at hamstring stretches on YouTube, but is only finding basic stuff. I give him some pointers and tell him to always keep a slight bend in his knees since his hamstrings are so tight. He watches me demonstrate. Then, because I just have to show off, I get into downward facing dog. I mean, it's nothing special. There is actually a lot that goes into doing the pose correctly, though you wouldn't really know just by looking at it. My butt does not face Scott (I'm not that show-offy). The pose supposedly isnt the absolute best if you want a hamstring stretch, but it is a good way to warm up the legs. After I get out of the pose, I stop to think about it and tell him to scratch that one, since he would have to make sure his form is correct.

We leave at the same time, with Scott in front of me. We both drive fast so we're in the left lane, but the guy in front of Scott is going a bit slow. It's rare where the right side of the highway is open, and my exit is only about 1 mile, maybe a little more, away, so I get to the right and end up passing Scott. I set myself on cruise control at 85. The guy in front of Scott must have gotten over, because next thing I know, Scott is parallel to my car. Only the middle lane lies between us. I turn my head to look at him and he turns his head to me. I can't see his face cuz of his tinted windows. I laugh and turn my head forward again. We stay like this until my exit.

Wednesday - I say hi to Scott in the morning at the printer. I whip my head around and greet him and he actually gives me a pretty big closed-mouth smile. I wonder if he thought it was funny how I whipped my head. I immediately notice that he's in his gray shirt, which is my favorite on him. His wife needs to tell him how good he looks because it would be a sin not to.

When i go and rinse my smoothie cup and head back, I see Steve has pulled his chair up to Scott's desk and they're looking at something. Scott keeps glasses at his desk and he's wearing them, and honestly, I think he's trying to give me heart failure because I cannot handle both the gray shirt AND the glasses at the same time.

I have several small interactions with Scott. I'm at the printer when he comes out of the bathroom, and also at the same time Joyce comes out of her cubicle to put highlighters she ordered me at my desk. So she's talking to me and I turn and I try to look at Scott, but I have to look at Joyce. Scott just watches me.

I go out into the warehouse to get paper to fill the cabinet. I see Steve isn't in the office, but Scott doesn't acknowledge me until my second trip. He looks at me through his window and I open the door and give him a little smile. He smiles and turns to me and asks if I need help. I tell him I’m okay.

I don’t get to talk to Scott during my lunch. He must have went out into the warehouse while I was putting my bag upstairs, because when I come down to use the bathroom, I can see he’s not in his office. I go back to my desk and read...for the next 15 minutes. Scott comes back in at 12:40, 5 minutes before my lunch is over. I’m debating on whether or not to still go in when he comes out to use the bathroom. This has never happened before. I start to get anxious thoughts, that maybe he did it on purpose because he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. I think about what he said a week and a half ago, and whether or not he meant it: “What do you want me to do, just ignore you?”. I feel sad.

When Scott makes his tea during his lunch, we ask each other how our day is going. Scott says he’s been really busy. After he finishes his tea, he lounges up against the counter, which he usually doesn’t do. I have some hope that he is trying to make up for my lunch and that maybe he does want to talk to me. He tells me he had raspberry yogurt but that I probably wouldn’t like it, but I tell him I approve of the raspberry. I tell him how I think I’m so against blackberry flavor cuz I had some bad experiences. My one sister shoved a blackberry Sour Head down my throat when I was like 5, and I choked on it until I threw up black. Then when I was 17, I stole some of my dad’s blackberry liquor, which was disgusting but I still drank it. Scott says he can see why I don’t like it. I’m actually the one who walks away, ending the conversation, when a lot of times it’s Scott, especially on his lunch. He was willing to give me some of his lunch time today.

I'm at the printer when he comes back in from lunch, which rarely happens. I finish stamping my order and turn around. Scott is throwing something in the recycling bin, so he's not looking at me. He looks up just as I'm about to enter my cubicle. I do one of those smiles with my mouth all the way to the right side of my face. I go into my cubicle without stopping to see if he responds back to me. I haven’t been on the receiving end lately.

I eat the last of my yellow watermelon I have in the mini fridge, so I go to the sink to rinse it out. The bathroom door is closed. I am standing over the trashcan, emptying out the tiny pieces that are left when the door opens. It’s Scott. He smiles and says, “Oh, hello.” I smile back at him. He goes to the receptionist stand to ask who fixes the paper towels, then he comes back and ends up fixing them himself. “Did you break it?” I ask as I come up to the sink in the bathroom to wash my hands (there isn’t hand soap at the sink outside of the bathroom). “No, I’m fixing it,” he replies. “It was empty.” He goes back out of the bathroom to tell the receptionist never mind, and after I dry my hands off I head back to my desk.

A little later in the day, I come out of the bathroom, and I can hear the paper towels in the men’s room. The door opens right as I’m about to turn into my cubicle. I turn my head and see it’s Scott, so I back up. “Following me?” I ask. “Seems like it” is all he says.

I go into his office at the end of the day and ask him if he stretched his hamstrings last night, but he says he didn’t. He did have his chiropractor appointment though, so he felt like he didn’t need to. I tell him it’s been a weird day, which it has been, and he actually agrees. I tell him how a guy I work with at the restaurant messaged me some weird thing about pasta salad, and I tell him about that. He just looks at me. I tell him how Will tried to scare me when I went out into the warehouse, but I just turned my head to look at him. Scott thought it was funny when I demonstrated. When I was heading back, Will was trying to sneak attack me, but I saw the top of his head, and so I jumped out at him. He wasn’t expecting it. It was pretty funny. Scott laughs at it too. He tells me he might just take the whole day off tomorrow since he doesn’t want to come in after getting his filling replaced, since his mouth will be numb. It’s time to go, and when I walk out of his office, Chris the engineer had his wife bring their puppy again. I sit on the ground as the puppy scrambles onto my lap and I talk to Chris for a minute or two. I get up, and Scott is getting ready to leave. I go and grab my things and say bye to Pete and Joyce. Scott comes walking out of his office behind me, so I stop for a few seconds to wait for him. “You didn’t want to see the puppy?” I ask. “Nah, I gotta stop at Best Buy. I’m kinda in a hurry.” “Oh, okay.” I walk a little faster. He’s so serious sometimes. We go outside and I say, “See you tomorrow”, but all he replies is “Aight.” I’m thinking about how that’s weird, but then when I get to my car I remember he said he might not come in tomorrow. I start to worry about how he’s going to think I don’t pay attention to him. I do, it’s just my brain is constantly like, on fire lol. Scott does pass me on the highway and I turn to look at him right after he passes, just a second too late. It looked like he was looking at me, but I can’t be sure.

Thursday - Scott doesn’t come in today. He decided to take the day off. Throughout the day, I plan stuff that I feel I need to say to Scott about what’s going on on my end. I plan to keep it short and to the point.

Friday - Scott comes im several minutes late, so I didn’t get to greet him. Right after he comes in, he tells Steve how he went to the beach. I get that ugly, sad feeling again.

I end up walking by his office several times, but I might as well not even exist in Scott’s world anymore. At one point, I end up walking back in from the warehouse while he’s turned and talking to Steve. As soon as I look at him, he averts his eyes, but keeps talking. I don’t know what’s going on, quite honestly.

Just like Wednesday, I end up coming out of the bathroom right before he does. I turn and look at him. No reaction.

During my lunch, I go in and ask how his day’s been. He’s busy. I don’t waste any time in saying, “Yeah, I realized Wednesday after I said ‘See you tomorrow’ that you said you might not come in. I’m just so used to saying it.” He laughs and says it’s okay. I only thought about it maybe 20 times yesterday. He gets a phone call and after he hangs up he tells me how he’s working on this large order for some guy who always asks for quotes and then barely orders anything, so it’s a waste of his time. His boss, Non-engineer Chris, was supposed to do the order, but he’s out today. I keep talking while Scott works. I tell him how I had the coconut Oui yogurt, which is Scott’s favorite flavor, but I like the fruit ones better. I actually had a strawberry banana coconut milk yogurt that was amazing. I’ve been trying to replace all of my dairy products with non-dairy. I tell him how last night I was carrying my trash, but it was so heavy and then I remembered I still had the watermelon shell in there, plus all of my regular trash. The trash ended up ripping in the middle of the lot, so I had to pick stuff up and carry it, but then there was still a mound of litter that I left there. It was raining pretty heavy during my lunch, so if it was still there, I knew it would be gone now. I mention the highway from the other day when we were going to same speed and driving parallel to each other. Scott smiles and says he saw me. I tell him how I read a thing that says if you play your music loud, studies show you’re probably a bad driver. Scott asks me if I believe I’m a bad driver. “Well, that’s what everyone tells me. Oh, but then the thing also said at the end at least you look cool with your music playing loud, but idk how cool I look in my blue Dodge.” Scott laughs. Neither one of us has weekend plans, so there’s nothing to talk about regarding that. He talks to me about his order a little bit and then Steve comes in. Steve usually goes to fill up his water right after he comes in, so I say, “I always think Steve is early, but nope, he’s always punctual.” I get up and Scott says, “Sorry I was busy the whole time.” “It’s okay. I know,” I say as I walk out. I had been practicing what I want to say all day, but it just didn’t seem right to say anything while I was in there on my lunch. He was busy working on the quote for that guy, so I knew it was not the right time. I know I will do it at the end of the day.

About 15-20 minutes later, Scott still hasn’t gone to lunch. I come out of my cubicle to use the bathroom right at the same time he comes out of his cubicle to fill his water. He turns to me and actually has a small smile on his face as he looks at me. I’m pleasantly surprised. I don’t get to see him again until the very end of the day.

I go in to talk to Scott with 10 minutes left in the work day. I ask if he's been busy the rest of the day and he says a little but not too bad, but then Steve's phone is paged so Scott has to take the call. He says "this guy's an asshole" and then answers the phone. The phone call goes on and on. During this time I take a quick peek at the calendar. Steve has off next Friday, and then Scott took off Friday the 17th and Monday the 20th. Oh.... I sit in the chair and go over everything I need to say. I’m mentally ready. Scott finally gets off the phone after almost 10 minutes. He says that guy had been calling Steve all day and that he had talked to the guy too at one point and accidentally hung up on him, but the guy called back. It's 4:45 now, but I can't leave without saying what I need to say. I don't feel awkward or nervous; if anything, I’m very calm. "I'm sorry about 2 weeks ago." Then I stop. I wasn't planning on stopping; I was hoping to just breeze my way through the whole thing. I don’t know why I stop, and because I surprised myself, I just look up at Scott, who then looks down at me. "I was just having a lot of anxiety." I had planned to say more about this. I was going to also say "I was having a rough week" and "I had an anxiety attack, which I'm sure you saw" and “My best solution is to confront all of the things giving me anxiety”, but it didn't seem right anymore to add those in. Scott says back, soothingly, "Don't worry about it." I continue, "I just don't understand a lot of things, and that's all I was trying to do. I like you, but I know you're married. I don't want you to think I have any ulterior motives or anything talking to you. I just like talking to you." I can't help but look up at him with a little smile on my face after I say that. "I wasn't sure what you were thinking, so I just wanted to make all of that clear." Scott says again, "Dont worry about it." He also said "it's alright" a few times in that sweet, soothing way of his while I was talking. I wasn't looking at him the whole time I was talking, but I could see he never took his eyes off of me. He had a small smile on his face, but it was so different from the one 2 weeks ago. This one was genuine and caring, and though it wasn't a big smile, it still reached his eyes. I don't hang around. "Have a nice weekend, Scott." "Aight. Thanks, you too, Dana." I look through Steve's window as I pass, but Scott is looking back at his screen. I go and grab my things, give Pete my hours sheet, and then go outside. I clutch my book to my chest as I walk and take deep breaths. "Don't cry, Dana. Don't cry." I get into my car. It's 4:49. I assume Scott will be stuck inside for at least a few more minutes because of the phone call he got. I pull away. I start crying before I reach the gate.

I don't know what Scott thinks, what he feels, or what is going on, or what was ever going on. I guess I had been naive to think that he had feelings for me too, but maybe he really did change his mind about me. I don't know. I know I had to say those things though, and I wouldn't have felt any peace till I did. I like being open and honest, that's just who I am, and it is always unnatural for me to hold back and hurts me in the end. I didn't expect myself to cry, but then in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. I felt really off yesterday into today, and then add to that equation barely talking to Scott for most of the week, and then telling him things without any reciprocation whatsoever...it hurts. I wasn’t expecting anything in return from Scott; I just wanted to say those things because I felt it was the right thing to do, not because i wanted anything in return.

I start to wonder again what is going on on Scott’s end. Was he having a rough patch in his marriage or something, and things are finally looking better? Did everything really boil down to him just liking the attention from me? Does he just not get that much attention at home, and he liked that I have always been happy to see and talk to him? Did he really marry the right person and is meant to be with his wife? I have no answers, and I guess Scott doesn’t really care enough to give them to me.

I look back over all of these months, back to the beginning, back to December. I can see everything along this timeline, and I can see clearly how it started, how it’s gone since then, and where it is now. I can see it all so, so clearly, and I ask myself, “what was the purpose of all this?” I do have a few answers for it, but they also don’t feel conclusive to me, and I can’t explain why. I want them to be, but they’re not, and I wonder if it’s because I know how difficult this is going to continue to be, my battle with things drastically changing between Scott and I and my uncertainty of what that means for me.

I think about so many honest and tender moments between us, how many times he looked at me with such a glow, such a light, and I just keep wondering how this is a happily married man. There is so much I don’t understand, and I am trying to come to peace with that without having any answers from Scott. This is not the first time I’ve had to do this with someone; it’s happened to me with friendships and romances, and it is very hard to do. People close themselves off, and I think it’s sad. I don’t want to be like that, and I think I’ve done a pretty decent job with being an open and honest person. I try not to put too much faith in people anymore and remind myself “Not everyone has the same heart that you do,” but of course, there’s still always some bit of disappointment there. It’s unavoidable. Even if you know it’s coming, you can’t ever fully prepare for the letdown.

I haven't felt so sad for myself in a very long time. In years, probably. I think maybe because I've felt like this whole time I've been doing nothing but the right things, or at least trying to, and it still didn’t really matter in the end. This is still resulting in heartbreak. And I'm well aware I am owed an apology from Scott for many things, but I forgive him anyway without one. If you always expect people to admit when they’re wrong and to give an apology just because that’s what you always do, it’s just more disappointment. I just wonder though if he's even aware of what he's done, and if he even cares. That’s a hard pill to swallow, knowing how much I care and finally realizing that he may not care as much as I thought he did. Unless he does and he’s just hiding it. Scott is very, very good at hiding his emotions. He is much more reserved than I am. It takes a lot for me at times to really see and feel what is truly going on with him, and still even half the time I cannot quite figure it out or put my finger on it. Making these posts has not only been ways for me to document moments and memories, but also ways to help me reflect and come to realizations about both Scott and this situation.

And even though I told Scott that I like him, told him I have no ill intentions, told him I just wanted to understand, that is still such a small, small portion of all that is really going on inside of me. I felt satisfied telling him just that little bit, because I do feel like it conveyed so much, but I know that the deep inner workings of my own self haven’t come through, and Scott may never see that.

I don’t know how to say out loud what this really feels like. How there have been so many colors, so beautiful, bold and bright, and as I walked to my car, clutching my book to my chest and fighting off my tears, I saw the colors melt away, leaving a stain of what was once there. And I saw the world in a sepia tone, and everything felt so lifeless and dull. I saw all of the colors, and then they were gone, and I have been left to wonder if it would have been better to not have experienced the colors at all.

And I just don’t know.

2 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 7 years

Text

No Strings (X)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Word Count: 5,524

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

“One blonde roast coffee,” you request from the woman behind the counter.

Nodding, she lifts a felt-tipped marker to write your name on the cup. “Paying by phone?”

“Yes,” you say, pulling out your phone app. “Please.”

The woman nods again, adding a flourish to the end. “Pay here.”

You do so, declining the receipt and moving on to the end of the counter. Drumming your fingers against the surface, you wait for Minsun to order. It has been a little over a week since telling Jimin you were over. It has also been over a week, since the last time you two spoke. Well, that is not entirely true; you have seen Jimin since then and you have spoken – but only in the polite, distant tone of strangers.

Every time you are in the same room, you remember what he said to you. Jimin does not care and although it hurts, it at least reinforces the fact that you did the right thing. You will get over Jimin – eventually and once you do, things will return to normal. You just wish that timing was now. Retrieving your coffee and taking a sip, you cannot help but glance at your phone.

Zero messages. No icon blinks from the corner, not even when you open your texts and scroll to the last conversation you had with Jimin. There are the messages from you, asking to meet and before it is a meme Jimin sent, along with, be alone when you watch this, you might snort. You did snort – Jimin always knows exactly how to make you smile. Slowly, you slide your phone back into your pocket.

It is good that you have this time to cool off; you need that badly, as does Jimin. Your conversation probably bruised his ego, he was likely upset when you wanted to end things. That was why he seemed mad, that was why he lashed out. Jimin never gets rejected; you ending things with him was probably the closest he has ever come to it.

“That’s a giant coffee,” Minsun observes, walking forward.

Shrugging, you take a sip. “It’s a cold walk to the office.”

“Which is literally next door.” Minsun empties a sugar packet into her drink, lifting her gaze to yours. “Is everything okay?”

You manage to smile. “What, because I ordered a large?”

She snorts, tossing her empty packet in the trash. “No. Because you’ve been moping around our apartment for a week now.”

Falling silent, you push open the door. A cold wind wraps around you, making several people by the door shiver. “Sorry,” you apologize, walking outside. Gripping your coffee, you wrap your scarf around your neck. “Minsun,” you sigh. “You know why.”

“I do,” she says, walking beside you. “It’s why I’m asking. The times we’ve hung out with the guys this week – it’s been so awkward.”

You glance sideways. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

Minsun falls silent, footsteps crunching in snow. “I don’t know,” she admits. “It seemed like Namjoon noticed something was off – but I doubt he knew why. None of them do,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “Not even Jin – I told him you swung by in the morning to pick up your purse and he was like, ‘Oh, cool.’”

You laugh, pushing open the front door to work. “That doesn’t surprise me,” you say, stomping snow from your boots. “Guys are blind.”

Minsun nods. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she says. Pressing the up button for the elevator, she turns to face you. “I know you ended things because you want to stay friends, but Y/N – you two are barely speaking.”

“I know,” you mutter, stepping onto the lift. Other people enter, forcing you to lower your voice. “But what other choice do I have? At least this way, we’ll move past it. This way, there’s nothing as messy as feelings for us to get over – things are just awkward.”

Minsun shakes her head but does not argue. “I hope that you’re right.”

You face forward, clutching your bag closer to your chest. You hope so, too.

Around 5:00 PM, your laptop dings.

From: Namjoon

Sent: 17:06, Mar 21

Want to get a drink tonight?

You look up, but Namjoon is not at his desk. He must be in a meeting or hiding somewhere in a conference room. You type back.

From: Y/N

Sent: 17:08, Mar 21

Idk. I’m kind of tired. Don’t really want to go out

From: Namjoon

Sent: 17:09, Mar 21

No going out! Just a drink!

From: Y/N

Sent: 17:10, Mar 21

Lol, it’s Friday night Joon – you honestly don’t want to go out?

From: Namjoon

Sent: 17:11, Mar 21

I mean, maybe I’ll go out after. But you’ve been super quiet, and I figured you might want to talk about it

You pause, sitting back. For a moment, you consider telling him everything. Namjoon would understand – he is logical, above all else. He would understand why you had to end things with Jimin and it would be nice to hear agreement, for once. But – no. More than anything, you do not want to think about Jimin tonight. Which is why drinking with Namjoon might be a nice change of pace.

From: Y/N

Sent: 17:12, Mar 21

Yeah, I’m down! Somewhere chill, please

From: Namjoon

Sent: 17:13, Mar 21

Noted

Namjoon returns to his cubicle a half hour later. Setting his laptop down and glancing at you, he unwinds his computer cord. “We still on?” he asks. “The boss left straight from the meeting I was just in, so we can leave whenever.”

You nod. “Let me just finish this email.”

Ten minutes later, you slam shut your laptop shut. “Done!” you declare, standing up and shrugging your coat on. “Is there anyone else you want to come?” You glance at Katie’s desk.

Namjoon flushes, slightly sheepish. “Nah, we’re going out tomorrow actually. I think Katie is heading to the bar with work people now.”

“Oh?” You grin, sliding your laptop into your bag. “A date? When did that happen?”

Namjoon falls into step alongside you, pulling his hat over his forehead. “After paintball,” he says. “We were texting and I asked her out. She said yes.”

You push the down button, looking at Namjoon. “I’m excited for you, Joon. You’ve liked her for a while, haven’t you?” He nods, and you smile. “So now – really. Why are we actually getting drinks?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “Please. I’ve known you for too long for you to lie to me. I can tell when you’re down, and right now you’re upset about something.”

The door dings and you step inside, struggling to think of a response. “Maybe I am,” you admit. “But maybe I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve thought about things too much this week, I just want to relax.”

Namjoon stares at you for a few seconds, then nods. “Fine. If you decide you want to talk later though – I’m here.”

“Thanks,” you say.

It is even colder out now than it was this morning, and you wrap your coat tighter leaving the building. The bar Namjoon picked is close by, crowded but not filled. You grab a table for the two of you, waiting for Namjoon to return with your drinks. He sets down your wine, sliding into his seat and taking a swig of his beer.

“Is it a guy?” Namjoon asks, ignoring the noise of protest you make. “I know! I know I said I wouldn’t, but how will I know if I need to kick anyone’s ass?”

You snort, setting your glass down. “No,” you sigh. “There’s no need for ass kicking. If anything, I’m the one who broke up with him.”

Namjoon seems surprised. “Then why are you upset? Did you do something? Are you feeling guilty?”

Frowning, you toy with your sweater. “No. I know I did the right thing. It was just a situation where I ended things because I had to, not because I wanted to.” You sigh, looking up. “You know?”

Namjoon’s brow furrows. “In theory, yes. In practice – whenever I really wanted to be with someone, I made it work.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you say. “He didn’t want to be with me.”

“He said that?” Namjoon asks, confused.

“What?”

“You asked him?” Namjoon speaks bluntly, leaning across the table. “He told you he didn’t want you? I mean – he said that to your face?”

You flush, shaking your head. “I could just tell.”

Namjoon groans. “Oh, god. This is like some bad romantic comedy, Y/N. Just tell the guy how you feel. Ask him if he feels the same.”

You glare at him. “You say this like it’s so easy. How long did it take you to tell Katie you liked her?”

“Touché.” Namjoon exhales. “Still. I think that you should tell him.”

You groan, lowering your head to the table. “I thought you said we wouldn’t talk about this.”

When you look up at him, Namjoon stares back. Whatever he sees in your expression must convince him though, because he slowly nods. “Okay – we’ll talk about something else. You see what Mr. Weber wore today?”

You nod, grateful for the change in subject. “The shirt had a metal chain, Namjoon. An actual chain.”

Namjoon laughs, launching into a story about the reaction of some woman in the cafeteria and you lean back in your seat. Smiling, nodding, pretending to listen while the entire time – your thoughts remain elsewhere.

Your thoughts are with Jimin.

“DIE! YOU USELESS, PATHETIC SLUG OF A WORM – DIEEEE!” Seokjin jerks his controller sideways, nearly sending his character off the edge of a cliff.

Namjoon sits on the couch, barely moving while soundly defeating Seokjin. Giant words flash across the screen – YOU WIN, for Namjoon, YOU LOSE, for Seokjin.

Seokjin sinks back on the couch, tossing his controller aside. “This game is rigged,” he complains.

Namjoon starts to laugh. “It’s your game!”

“Still.” Seokjin pouts.

Minsun looks up, waving around the knife she is holding. “If you guys could keep it down, I’m trying to chop here.”

Seokjin looks over. “Sorry, babe,” he says. “Need help?”

“No, no.” Minsun turns to open up his refrigerator. “You two are doing the cleaning after. That’s your contribution for tonight.”

Seokjin shrugs, sinking back down. Whenever Minsun gets bossy, it is best to just agree. He switches the input on the TV, flipping through various channels. “What do you want to watch?” he asks Namjoon.

Namjoon glances down the hall. “Is Jimin home? We were watching Veep last week, we could watch the next episode.”

“Nah.” Seokjin shakes his head. “I think he’s out. Besides,” he adds, voice lowering. “Jimin hasn’t been in the best of moods this week.”

Namjoon looks up, puzzled. “What do you mean by that?”

Seokjin shrugs, finding nothing he wants to watch on TV and switching back to the video game. “I don’t know. I tried to talk to him about it, but he’s pretty messed up. Won’t talk at all. You know what Jimin’s like when he gets in one of his moods.”

Namjoon nods, expression thoughtful. He does know.

Seokjin flips through characters. “I figured I’d give him time to decompress, then bug the shit out of him until he spills.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon mutters, frowning. He is unsure why the situation bugs him so much. Obviously, he cares about Jimin – but it is more than that. It is something else bothering him in the back of his mind. Something about the timing, the situation. Namjoon frowns further.

Neither one of them sees Minsun, frozen behind the counter. She looks up suddenly from her bowl, staring wide-eyed at the boys. “Jimin is upset?” she asks, voice strained.

Seokjin looks over at her. “Yeah,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, though. Jimin will be fine – we’ll force him to talk to us about it next week.”

Minsun places her spoon beside the bowl. “How long has he been like this?”

Namjoon looks up and Seokjin blinks.

“I’m not sure,” Seokjin says. “Sunday? Yeah, Sunday,” he nods. “He went to the store – super weird, he forgot his coat – and afterwards, he just seemed out of it. Walked around the apartment in a daze all week.”

Minsun stares at them both, mouth slightly open as the pieces fall into place. “Oh, fuck.”

“Babe?” Dropping the remote, Seokjin gets up from the couch and enters the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

Rather than respond, Minsun lowers her face to her hands. She starts to laugh, shaking her head between fingers. “Oh my god. They are so fucking stupid.”

Namjoon stands, too. “Who is? Who’s stupid, Minsun?”

“Jimin.” Minsun drops her hands, meeting Namjoon’s gaze. “And Y/N.”

Namjoon freezes mid-stride. “What?”

Minsun exhales, nearly a laugh. “Seokjin. You’re sure it was Sunday Jimin started acting weird?”

“Yeah, Sunday.” Seokjin looks curiously at Minsun. “Why? What’s going on?”

Namjoon seems stuck by the mention of your name. He stares at Minsun, understanding dawning, as well. “Holy fuck – is Jimin the guy Y/N was seeing? The guy she broke things off with?”

“What!” Seokjin gasps, elbow dropping onto from the counter. “Y/N and�� Jimin? What? When? For how long?”

Minsun is already moving though, digging through her purse for her phone. “I’m not sure, exactly. They were doing the whole friends with benefits things – Y/N broke it off because she had feelings for Jimin and didn’t want to ruin their friendship.”

Namjoon stares at Minsun. “But... Jimin is depressed as fuck.”

“Because Y/N ended it.” Minsun nods in confirmation, finding her cell. “Which means –"

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “Jimin also likes Y/N.”

“Wow,” Namjoon whistles, shaking his head. “They really are stupid.”

Minsun is already dialing. “I know,” she groans, shaking her head. Someone picks up the phone on the other end. “Hey, idiot.”

Jimin stares into the beer he is nursing. The liquid is amber in color, reminding him of the sheets of your bed. He hates that memory. Wishes he could forget about it, but such a thing is impossible. For the past week, Jimin has been trying to forget. If he could not get rid of his crush in the past five years though, why would this week be any different?

Before, at least there was a chance you could like him. The tentative what if you woke up one morning and decided you loved him back. Jimin drinks from his glass, slamming it down before him. Not now, though. Not now that you have had the opportunity to be with him – and said no.

Sliding his fingers against the table, Jimin almost does not notice when his phone begins to ring. It is on silent mode, having been this way since Sunday. A futile attempt to ignore texts from you which have not come. In the corner of his eye, Jimin sees his screen light up. Moving his fingers over the lock, he hovers for a moment when he sees who it is.

He does not really want to talk to Minsun, but Jimin is curious and so he answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, idiot.”

Jimin frowns. “Minsun?”

“The one and only.” She exhales, unsure how to start. “Look, Jimin – I know.”

He blinks, stomach dropping. “You know… what?” His first thought is that she knows about his feelings for you, but that would be impossible. No one knows – only Jimin.

“I know you’re in love with Y/N.”

Jimin sucks in a breath, the sound loud in his ears. “Wh-what? No, I don’t. You’re crazy,” he says, letting out a hollow laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, please,” Minsun interrupts, impatient. “I know you two were hooking up. I know all about your ‘friends with benefits’ deal,” she adds, making air quotes around the words.

Jimin is floored. “How long?” he gasps, grip tightening around his glass. “Did Y/N tell you?”

“I’ve known since Sunday,” Minsun says. “I figured it out the night she slept over at your place after paintball.”

Jimin’s stomach tightens. “Oh.”

“Jimin.” Minsun sounds serious. “Why are you all alone in a bar, drinking?”

Jimin slides a finger over the rim of his glass. “I’m a big fan of my own company?”

“Jimin,” Minsun groans. “Do you know what Y/N told me the morning she came home from your place?”

Jimin swallows. He does not want to think about that morning. Does not want to think about the feeling of rolling over, waking up and finding you gone. His hand reaching out for where you once were, his panic as he threw off his covers. Jimin does not want to think about that morning ever again.

“No,” he says hollowly. “I can imagine, thanks.”

“She said she has feelings for you.”

Jimin pauses. That is not what he thought Minsun would say. “I – what?”

“She has feelings for you, moron. Y/N said she needed to end things with you because she broke her own rules. She thought you didn’t like her and she didn’t want to ruin your friendship.”

“You – you misunderstood,” Jimin says, struggling to comprehend. His head spins, the sounds of the bar too loud behind him. There is no way that you like him. You ended things, you broke things off. Why would you do that if – Jimin slides his head between palms. “What about Sungmin?”

“What about him?” Minsun snorts. “I can promise you, she hasn’t talked to Sungmin at all. They’re barely friends, let alone more than that.”

Jimin’s mind buzzes, still attempting to process. “Y/N… likes me?”

“Yes.”

“But why,” Jimin bursts, sitting up straighter. “Why not just tell me!”

Minsun starts to laugh. “Are you serious? It’s been five fucking years, Jimin! You’ve never said that you liked her – why would she think you did?”

Jimin falls silent. It is true. Minsun is repeating to him the same reasons he did not tell you his feelings for you in the first place – he did not think you would believe them. Did not think you would see him that way, not after his past.

Jimin pushes himself to stand, throwing a twenty down on the counter. It is too much, but he cannot be bothered to wait around for change. “Where is she?” Jimin demands, digging through his pockets for keys.

“At home,” Minsun says. “Alone on a Saturday night, moping while watching the Harry Potter weekend marathon.”

“I’m on my way.”

Jimin hangs up, fingers shaking as he ducks into the cold. You like him. Walking faster, Jimin is practically jogging as he heads towards his car. The wind whips his face, freezing despite his gigantic smile. Elation floods through his veins for the first time in a week.

Elation – and something else. Something foreign. Hope.

You are on your couch, legs tucked underneath you. A glass of wine is perchedo n the end table and old take-out menus litter the ground. Thumbing through which cuisine to order, you know that only take-out can fill this aching hole inside you.

Talking to Namjoon made things worse. Now you are also plagued by doubt, wondering if you should have just told Jimin your feelings. Debating this over and over with yourself, fingers tracing the phone in your lap. It is not too late, you reason. You could call him, invite Jimin over and – you shake your head.

Just thinking about it makes you nauseous because in your mind’s eye, you can see it. You can see Jimin wincing, see him turning away. He would say he does not care, that you two are just friends. You can see his expression on that first night you met, walking out of the club with that girl. He strode right past you, as though you were invisible.

He would do it again, you are sure.

A sudden knock comes at your door. You glance down at the take-out menus in your lap in confusion. You did not order yet – right? Frowning, you move towards the entrance. If that is take-out and you did order, you are losing it. It might be time to sleep, if you ordered a whole meal without recollection.

Throwing your door open, you freeze when you recognize the person on the other side.

“Jimin?”

He looks, well – crazy. His hair is windswept, scarf looped halfway around his neck and his jacket hanging open. His hands are chapped and, although you look for his gloves, you see none. Jimin steps inside to shut the door behind him. He stands that way for a second, facing away from you. Then, he turns.

There is something hesitant in his gaze, almost unreadable. “Hi,” Jimin manages, glancing around your apartment.

You arch a brow, crossing your arms. “Hi.”

“Why aren’t you out with Sungmin?” he demands.

“I – uh.” You blink. “I’m just not? Do I have to see him every night?”

“No.” Jimin shakes his head. “But tell me the truth, Y/N,” he exhales. Closing his eyes, he waits a moment before opening them. “Did you end things with us because you wanted to date him? Or, was it another reason?”

Your heart pounds, dazed by his question. Your entire body aches being so close to him. So near you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. You do want to. Want to feel the familiar press of him against you and so, you keep your arms locked firmly by your sides.

“What other reason is there?” you ask quietly.

“You tell me,” Jimin says, staring at you a second longer. “Did I ever say...” He hesitates. “Did I ever tell you about the night we first met?”

Thrown by this sudden change in direction, you shake your head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

Jimin’s hand reaches out for you. You stare, almost hypnotic when he touches your wrist. While you watch, his fingertips slide between yours to intertwine.

“I saw you the moment you walked in the bar,” Jimin says softly.

You look up, unsure why he is now holding your hand. Unsure why he is now looking at you like that – as though he cannot bear to look away. Jimin takes a step closer.

“I know that,” you say. Still confused why he is bringing this up. “You told me you saw me while we were waiting for our drinks.”

Jimin nods, thumb brushing yours. “I know I did,” he admits. “But what I didn’t say was what happened next. When I left you on the dance floor, it was because Namjoon waved me over.”

Your brow furrows, not understanding. “Namjoon?”

Jimin nods. “He saw us talking and knew what I was thinking. Back then,” Jimin hesitates. “I wasn’t in a great place. My girlfriend cheated on me, she really fucked me up and I wasn’t in a place for commitment. Namjoon warned me not to take you home – he was scared if I slept with you and never called you again, Minsun would cut Jin out of her life. I couldn’t do that to my friend,” Jimin explains.

You stare at him wide-eyed, the pieces of that night slowly coming together. “You didn’t go home with me, then – because of Seokjin?” you say.

Jimin nods, his other hand finding yours. “I didn’t want to mess up his relationship,” he says. “I didn’t realize what I felt for you, not until it was too late and once I realized my feelings – well. You only saw me as your friend, then.”

Your heart pounds against your chest; you can hardly dare to believe when Jimin lifts a hand to your hair. Pushing a strand behind your ears, he stares with such intensity it leaves you breathless.

“Well, then,” you say, unsure why your voice is near-breaking. “What do you see me as now?”

“More than that.” Jimin frowns, frustrated. “God, this all sounds so stupid, so inadequate, you know? It seems like nothing to tell you I love you. That doesn’t really get at what I’m trying to say.”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, dazed by hearing him tell you he loves you.

Jimin’s gaze darkens. “That I want you.”

You blink.

Jimin winces. “I want you more than I have you right now. I want you in my bed, yeah, but not just for sex. I,” he inhales, scrunching his hand in your hair. “I want to take care of you when you’re sick, want you to call me when you need something. Want to watch stupid movies with you, be your date at parties and just... be with you. I love you, Y/N.”

Your hands rise to cover his, barely able to keep from smiling as you move a step closer. “You love me?” you whisper, staring up at him.

He nods, nose brushing your cheek. “So fucking much,” he murmurs. “But if what you said to me the other day is true – if you really want us over, I’ll understand. I’ll miss you,” Jimin admits, voice wavering. “But... I’ll understand. It’s just, that Minsun said – “

You kiss him.

Cutting off his words, his worries, his insecurities, you press your lips against his. Jimin groans, hands curling tighter into your hair, slightly off-balance as he pulls you forward. His mouth opens, tongue sweeping forward to claim you. He wants every inch of you – needs it, craves it.

You give it right back, yanking his scarf until it falls to the floor, pushing your hands through his hair as his slide down your body. Your lips move from his mouth to his jaw, tracing a path to his ear. “I love you, too,” you whisper, feeling Jimin freeze against you.

He pulls back to look at you, eyes bright. “You... love me?”

You nod, fingers brushing his. “All of you.”

Jimin exhales, a half-breath before pulling your lips back to his. Jimin backs you against the wall, sliding your hands above your head. He kisses down the skin of your throat, hand wandering while his length grinds into your hips. You gasp, head hitting the wall while his fingers close around your wrists.

Jimin’s hand moves to your thighs, pushing them apart. His fingers slide forward, teasing while your hips buck into his hand. Your lips are at his neck, biting, sucking as he groans out your name. Jimin’s body and his touch are both frantic; followed by his lips, his hands – all of it needy and wanting.

Then, Jimin seems to regain himself slightly, pulling back to rest his palms on either side of your head. “Y/N,” he murmurs, lips trailing your throat. He nips at your shoulder before dragging your shirt aside. Jimin’s fingers replace his mouth, pushing your shirt to your waist.

His lips find your chest. Thumbs grazing your nipples, already peaked beneath your bra, his tongue flicks lace to draw moans from your lips. When his torso presses against yours, you realize he is still wearing a coat.

“No,” you breathe, even as his fingers push down the cup of your bra.

“No?” Jimin smiles, sucking your breast into his mouth.

Your chest rises and falls, shoving material down from his shoulders. “Coat, off. Shirt, off.”

Jimin lifts himself to obey. Shrugging from his coat, he lifts his shirt aside and you groan out loud when his chest is revealed, abdominals exposed. The hard, lean muscles disappear into his jeans and you cannot stop your hand from slipping beneath the band.

“Fuck,” Jimin murmurs when your fingers close over his member. Your thumb slides over the top, forcing Jimin’s elbow to buckle. He moves closer, lips finding yours to press into your mouth. He matches your strokes with his tongue, pushing himself into you once before pulling back.

His hands find his jeans, unbuttoning. You unhook your bra, dropping this onto the ground. Jimin bends to grab you, jeans discarded somewhere on the floor. He hooks both of your knees over his waist and walks the two of you backwards, moving into your room to drop you on your bed.

Jimin stares at your body, a dark glint to his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “Take your jeans off.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you slide a hand down your body and unbutton one by one. Lifting your hips, you shimmy free but leave your underwear on. Leaning back on the bed, you arch your back and slowly spread your legs.

Jimin swears, erection obvious at the front of his boxers. He does not move as he stares, continuing to look. “Show me how you touch yourself,” he says.

Slowly, you slide your underwear down, scooting further back to spread your thighs apart. Dropping a hand between your legs, you trace a slow circle around your clit. Pushing a finger inside you to get it wet, a soft moan escapes, head hitting the back of your bed. Hips pushing upwards, you pretend your finger is him.

When you open your eyes, Jimin has removed his boxers. He stands there, cock erect and his right knee to your mattress. “You look fucking incredible,” he mutters, moving closer. “My turn.”

Jimin does not waste time, dragging your hips forward. You gasp when his finger enters you, tongue flicking your sex as you moan. Jimin does not stop, yanking you forward to begin a relentless rhythm. His finger moves hard, fast, and you make incoherent noises beneath him. Biting your lower lip to keep from screaming.

Jimin licks upwards, meeting your gaze when you arch your hips. He growls, dropping back to your swollen clit and sucking. Tracing circles until you’re writhing beneath him. Then, Jimin pulls back, lips still wet as he strokes himself.

You push yourself up, core throbbing as you sit on your knees. “Sit,” you say, and Jimin obeys. He moves into a sitting position, cock erect between his thighs.

You bend, swirling his cock with your tongue, hands sliding up to grasp the base of his shaft. Jimin groans. When you look up, you see his lips parted. Abs clenched, you smile and lower yourself even further. Taking him in your mouth, you let his cock hit the back of your throat.

Jimin’s hands fist your hair, coaxing a rhythm from you. He thrusts, fucking your mouth when you let him. “Fuck, your mouth,” Jimin hisses. “It’s so fucking good. You suck cock so well. You’re such a good girl, Y/N.”

You moan at his approval, lips still wrapped around his member. Reaching your hand down to touch yourself, you slide fingers over your slickness as Jimin continues to thrust. He is so hard, you suck precum from his tip before pulling away. Running your tongue over your lips and swallowing, Jimin’s eyes darken at the sight. You – knees apart, touching yourself while you swallow his cum.

“Turn around,” he demands. “I want to see you.”

You turn until you are facing the headboard, lowering yourself onto your elbows and lifting your ass in the air. Jimin spreads your cheeks, lowering himself to lick a circle around your clit. His fingers push into you – first one, then two. Spreading you even wider.

“You’ll need more than that, baby,” he murmurs, words sending vibrations against your sex. “If you want to take my cock.”

You inhale, breath catching when he bends you further. His fingers circle your entrance, plunging into you from behind. His lips close around your clit as you moan, pressing backwards, grinding into him while he eats you out. Then, Jimin stops. You feel his cock at your entrance, tip sliding in before pulling back out.

“Jimin,” you curse, pushing your ass backwards. “Please.”

He chuckles, arms wrapping around you while he fills you from behind. He is so deep like this, so large that you bite your lip to keep from moaning. Jimin slides his hand to your front, stroking your sex before he pulls out. Pushing back in, he stretches your walls and makes you groan.

“Baby,” he moans, grip bruising. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Jimin moves faster, picking up a rhythm which has your elbow dropping to the mattress. He rams into you from behind, hips banging your ass as you groan, overwhelmed by sensations and him. Jimin thrusts a few more times before pulling out.

“Flip over,” he commands, waiting until you are spread out before him. “I want to see your face when you come.”

He pushes inside you, chest brushing yours as he stops. Staring down at you, his hips still as he slowly drops his head. Jimin kisses you, movements suddenly slow. When his hips move again, it is with purposeful, drawn-out thrusts. Sliding all the way in, then back out. Pushing into you, making you arch your back. Wrapping your legs around him, you let the torture continue.

Jimin’s hand pushes into your hair, the other one between your legs. He continues like this, fingers wet while flicking your clit. You moan, undone by his cock and hands and lips. Everything overstimulated and overwhelming as you cling to him tightly. Giving in to the sensations and losing yourself entirely. Plunging over the edge when you come.

Darkness closes when you moan his name. Brushing, biting at his lips for Jimin to come as well. Jimin moans, breath hitching as his body fills yours. His muscles contract, shuddering while he gives in entirely. His hips slow, movement gentle when he finally pulls out.

Jimin grins, hair a mess as he rolls off the bed. He returns in record time to clean you up – making you giggle the entire time. Chucking the tissues into the nearby garbage, he collapses on top of you. Kissing first your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips. Pulling you into him, he entangles his legs with yours.

“I can’t believe we wasted so much time,” he moans, nibbling your ear.

You exhale, spent and satisfied. “We’re together now.” Staring up at him, you are unable to keep the smile from your face. “I fucking dare you to try and leave me.”

Jimin grins, pressing his lips to yours. “No need. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, pulling you into him. “Did I tell you I love you?”

Nodding, you trace a finger over his jawline. “Once or twice. Did I say that I love you?”

“I could hear it a few more times.” Jimin smiles faintly.

“I love you.”

[Master List]

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #kpoptrashtag #jimin smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #jimin fanfiction #jimin series #jimin au #jimin imagines #jimin scenarios #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts au #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin

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teyyhyung · 7 years

Text

i. The Dream

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst (?)/ Fluff (??? idk what this is)

Words: 1626 (it’s short i know but a dream is a DREAM)

(also my first posted fic so hi)

Note: I originally wrote this because I was so hyped after hearing my friend's dream and desperately needed to let my imagination flow and make it something tangible. I’m sorry for stealing your dream but here’s your credit?? :)

The hissing street lamps cut through the thick obsidian, flooding the path with cool chamomile light. Y/N shivered violently, drawing her coarse knitted jacket closer as the cold bit at her hands. In the distance a faint serenade of squeals and laughter followed her as she leisurely ambled down the muddied track, watching as blurry shapes flurried past her with the crisp crunch of hard grass and scuttling feet breaking the thick silence.

Just as Y/N began to descend the frosty hill, she was racked with a fit of shivers, her sore eyes prickling with wayward tears and a puff of white breath dancing before her.

Screw the cold, her fatigue and her aching eyes.

Despite the charming weather, she couldn’t help but grin at the giggling children that ran about, peeking out occasionally behind the pitifully spindly trees which left nothing to the children’s imagination. They dodged one another and yapped like pups, flying off again into the dark night.

Armed only with the bright glare of the camp instructor’s torches, she made her way down the muddy track towards a squat brick-red building, billows of steam swaddling her as it furled out from the dribbling vents. Following the dim flicking lights down the building, she rounded the vents and came towards the front of it. She tiredly pulled the door open, grimacing at the uncomfortable dampness of the handle; which came as no surprise really when she looked at the door window slick with condensation, small rivulets of water trickling down.

Stepping in, the thick humidity hung on her shoulders like a warm blanket, the atmosphere thick enough to cut it with a knife. The sudden heat caused her cheeks to flare up, but soon the wave of heat passed and she felt her chest clear, her breathing easing up. She scoffed, recalling the snarky attitude of the camp coordinators when they told her to go ‘freshen up’ despite her lack of enthusiasm for ‘an exhilarating game of Capture the Flag’.

In a corner, she noticed a mountain of damp sweaty clothes that had been unceremoniously dumped to the side with a worrying amount of underwear peeking out from it. Quickly walking down the humid corridor she heard the rattling trolleys that squeaked with age, freshly laundered towels stacked inside as if it were a cornucopia; a hint of lemon permeating the air. She passed by, peeling off her jacket that was now sticking to her clammy t-shirt and eventually navigated herself through the corridors to the changers.

The door had been propped open with a pair of muddied football boots, a trail of dirt scattered along the scratchy blue carpet. By this point, Y/N was utterly unfazed by the whole ordeal, having served enough summers there, as she shouldered the door open and steered clear from the suspiciously coloured puddle; nothing less expected from the juniors side of the room. Slinking through the throngs of hyper kids, she slipped into the seniors, the familiar scent of spicy deodorant and floral perfume wafting through the air and coating her lungs.

The gleaming white walls dribbled with water as gusts of steam gushed from the shower cubicles, the drumming of water mingling with the light chatter that filled the room as Y/N weaved her way through. After muttering a handful of ‘excuse me’s, she finally reached the freckled metal locker. She looked back at the showers, huddles of towel clad people shuffling from foot to foot outside.

She was going to have to wait a while.

Supple as a peach, her head pounded lightly as the pink flush slowly drained from her cheeks, her damp hair falling in loose messy waves. There, she lolled about, swinging her legs to-and-fro as she sat between the polished benches, the starchy whiteness of gym clothes making her blend seamlessly into the sweating walls.

The room was becoming less crowded as people began to scatter and go back to their dorms, the odd straggler or two remaining behind. Her mind began to whir as she mulled over what to do next and painted out a mental schedule when suddenly a grin graced her rose-bud lips, utterly lost in her thoughts, precious memories of the week suddenly resurfacing and becoming all too much for her. All she could muster was bubbling laughter and the blur of swathed scarfs and jumpers as scurrying feet flew over the frost-crisped grass; a swirling inferno of glowing flecks and ash spattering across the night sky.

When suddenly a heavy cloud of spiced apples and warm laundry lurched her from her mind, her arms prickling with electricity as her senses were drugged by the scent.

“Were you waiting for me? I hope I didn’t keep you from anything exciting.” A voice chirruped as a head of chocolate tufts peeked out from a large white t-shirt, greeting her with that crooked smile that he unknowingly cursed girls with. His chocolate eyes crinkled as he took in her glassy stare; her pink body propped up against the wall and legs sprawled gracelessly along the bench.

“I-I- wasn’t-” Y/N cleared her throat as he plopped himself by her legs. “I’m just hiding from those fucking camp leaders. Don’t get your hopes up Jungkook.” Shaken by her unintentionally prickly reply, she felt inclined to slip in a quick apology when he flashed her weary grin, an untraceable emotion swimming in his searching eyes.

She averted her eyes, cheeks burning despite the warmth that already radiated from her.

She couldn’t handle it. Why was he like that?

Over the lulling drumming from the empty showers, she could barely make out his soft sniffles that seemed to break his laid-back, cool facade that everyone willed him to be. They all conjured images of a quick witted, cocky boy with smooth words and charms oozing from him. The perfect camp crush.

Never could she have imagined the camp heartthrob bounding up to her on the first day, gushing about their set task of peeling potatoes and the smell of bubbling stew.

Jungkook just couldn’t tear his eyes from her peaceful form. He could feel something terrifyingly heavy swell in his throat, as if it were clogged with cotton. His mind goaded him to wash it out with a stream of words.

What words? Words of Sadness? Regret? Maybe the truth?

A rattling sigh heaved from his chest. What good would it do? He needed to make it last somehow.

Just when Y/N had gathered enough energy to drag herself back to the frosty cabins, she abruptly felt a solid weight on her chest, apple scented hair tickling her neck. Her body stiffened but Jungkook remained there, puffing out a defeated sigh. She must be dreaming.

Unsure of what to do, she prayed that he couldn’t feel the erratic beating of her heart as he lay there on her, his deft fingers entwining themselves around the wild curls of her fringe.

“Jungkook, we should leave…”

“Can we just stay like this for a bit, Y/N… please?”

“I- what. I mean, yeah sure.”

Her nerves on fire, she gulped down her growing jitteriness.

After they heard the jangle of keys and heavy footfalls echo through the still room, the two scrabbled for the exit; their tinkling laughter being the only trace they left behind. It occurred to Y/N suddenly that she had forgotten about her friends, whom had promised to wait for her outside as she wallowed in the changers. But now, as they stepped into the entrance, there was only the heavy cast of chlorine and empty baskets left. She brushed it off and proceeded to haul the door open, with Jungkook excitedly pushing her forwards, his hands comfortably placed on her shoulders. Too comfortably.

The darkness swallowed them as they traced their way back to their cabins. As expected, their run to escape the groundskeeper had reduce them to a panting mess, their quick breaths furling into milky puffs in the night sky. Y/N could hardly make out Jungkook’s features under the flickering streetlamps, his shadow dancing along the ground as if it were jumping between two worlds. He glanced over at her, as if he had known of her shameless staring, and grinned. His eyes trailing down to the heaped up jacket in her stiff arms.

He shivered.

“Shit it’s so cold. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to stay there so long.” He chuckled as he feverously rubbed at his sides, willing the friction to create some warmth.

Y/N shook her head, a smile plastered on her face as she watched their matching strides. Suddenly Jungkook’s feet stopped, a sad chuckle floating in the air.

“I really don’t want you to forget.”

“What…” She could feel the tension grow, warmth crawling its way up her neck. When she looked up, she found Jungkook’s head tilted back, his eyes glimmering from the milky moonlight.

“Well,” He started, his voice reduced to a soft lilt. “I’m not going to see you much…ever. “ He looked back to her. “And I know it’s dumb and you’ll probably forget but- fuck!” A small smile pulled at his down turned mouth, his voice croaking.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Nothing made sense. Y/N stared at him, searching for something more to make sense of his sudden confession. Did he like her? She couldn’t believe it, their time was much too short and bittersweet. Her eyes softened as she tried to send a reassuring smile, her arm reaching out to console him somehow.

His gaze burning into her, he whispered. “You’re gonna forget.”

Her body slumped as her arm fell flat to her side. What did he mean? His face dropped, his mouth slackening as she was about to let loose a stream of endless questions. The last thing she saw, was the pearl moonlight swimming in his golden, chocolate eyes. His outline of his body blurring into the star smattered night sky. Then, darkness.

#jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfics #kpop fanfics #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bangtan fics #jungkook fics #mine

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johnnys-so · 7 years

Note

Hi there! May I get a Hongbin imagine? You being an intern at Jellyfish :) X

ofcourse!! i’ve been missing hongbin for a while idk i feel like im back in his lane for this comeback. these vixx boys play with my heart too much.

It wasn’t your first day at Jellyfish Entertainment, but it sure as hell felt like one. You had gotten past through the grueling first two months of awkward greetings and having to smile at people when you didn’t know their names and sitting through office dinners that you wanted no part of to be entirely honest. You genuinely believed things would get better. Atleast that’s what your friends in other companies said, but things just took a deep turn, south.

“Your/Last/Name Intern! We expected better from you. This is our best group and you think such bad planning will do? You better fill out the details and come up with better ideas before the next meeting or you’ll have to satisfy yourself in team C.”

Your manager wasn’t entirely wrong. VIXX was the best group that Jellyfish had. In the recent years, they had become financially profitable and surprised everyone with their constant amazing concepts. Having their next concept as your brain child wasn’t just stressful, it was plain hellfire breeding in your belly. Though you understood the importance of the situation, you couldn’t help but excuse yourself to the restroom to let the tears slip. It had been a stressful week and you genuinely believed they would only get worse.

When night rolled around, you were still in your cubicle, trashing yet another idea into the bin. You had been capable of coming up with amazing ideas so far - including their chokers + vests costume idea for stages. You had picked out the suits yourself. But this time, you had run out of them.

You decided to stretch your legs a little and pop out for some soju and snacks. Nothing like some alcohol to kick start inspiration right? So here you were, at the company’s cafeteria that was open late, trying to fish for a few extra coins in your coat pocket and you wished you could run back up to the office and get your other coat but the girl behind the cash counter didn’t look like she’d let you leave that easy. Before you could open your mouth for yet another apology, a pale hand passed some coins and notes across the counter and checked out for you, and him.

You turned out, indignation coursing through you, trying to tell your brain that you needed to thank them before anything. But Hongbin looks down at you with a familiar smile and your lips break out into a nervous smile themselves.

“You must be working too hard if you don’t have extra coins for soju too, Y/N.” He muttered quietly. He steered you to the table at the far end, and pushed your shoulders towards the chair so you’d sit down.

“I should go and get back to work, it’s your new concept and -” Your words were rushed and a tell tale sign of your anxiety. Though you and Hongbin hadn’t had a lot of run-ins, he knew you as the star intern of the team. Especially when he angrily set out to find the evil mastermind that wanted to reveal his abs in front of cameras and he was pointed towards you. He still remembered how you looked when he had cornered you on a Tuesday afternoon. Your hair was half in and out of your ponytail, the result of picking out fabric and colours with their stylist all day. He wanted to walk up to you and shake the concept pictures he got at you and demand for an answer. Except, all he managed was a small pipsqueak of ‘excuse me, may I speak with you for a bit?’

He was still glad that you gave all the deep cut vests to leo and saved him the trouble of public embarrassment.

“You need a break. Even a mind as brilliant as yours can’t always come up with answers if its overworked.” His eyes crinkled at their edge and he took a bite out of his sandwich.

You had no words to stutter out so you tried to focus on taking a rather large gulp of your soju. But your clumsy body nearly shut down your respiratory system and you ended up choking and gasping in front of him. Flustered, Hongbin leapt out of his seat and reached out for some tissues and ran back to you.

He chastised you for your hurried drinking and continued to dab the corners of your lips, trying to contain a smile that threatened to bloom on his face. “Aishhh, I can’t leave you alone for a moment.You’re a threat to yourself.”

“I’m fine. I’m just not used to compliments from you.” You tried to salvage the situation, and a little bit of your pride.

“Well, get used to it. It’s the least I can do to someone who went out of their way to make me feel comfortable.”

“I just did what I had to do Hongbin-sshi.”

“No. You could have just used me as the visual like everyone does, but I think you see me as a little bit more than that.” Hongbin’s voice dwindled to a whisper, his hand still perched softly on your shoulder. You let your fingers slutch his softly and turned around to say, “Ofcourse I do. You’re a kind and smart young man and you shouldn’t have to expose your skin just to make a few sales. You’re more than that.” You assured him.

Hongbin peeked out from under the fringe that fell over his eyes, to smile sweetly at you. Though it wasn’t your first and last meeting with VIXX’s visual Hongbin, it was definitely the one that Hongbin loved the most.

You helped him realise that he was more than just a pretty face.

#hongbin scenarios #vixx #vixx scenarios #im sorry im a bit rusty because i havent written scenarios and stories for so long

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zephyr-together · 6 years

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I had a dream last night that my grandma lived in this old, big, kinda dark and creepy house, and she was having me and a buncha people over I didn’t know and everyone was cosplaying...I didn’t have time to finish (I was cosplaying Pretty) so I had everything done but the head so you would never know I was trying to cosplay at all and it made me really disappointed in myself, and I also felt strange that I didn’t know anyone, and I guess it was rare to see my grandma too so I felt like I didn’t like having to share the time with all these strangers, but I felt like I should just be grateful I get to see her, but then I saw someone cosplaying Space Maco and I snapped out of all these conflicting feelings and raced to the garage to try to finish making the Pretty head

then everyone started to leave while I think I was in the middle of working on it so we went to this big building and inside there was a giant room filled with tents, and each tent had a cubicle and there was a therapy session going on in each one. and I DON’T KNOW WHY but we just stormed the place and screamed at everyone there that therapy doesn’t help at all and they’re wasting all their time and money which isn’t true at all...but it’s just a dream so it’s funny to me now...then when we got back, I was working on the head in the garage again and like 10-15 people from the therapy sessions came over to me and asked me if I think Round 1 is more worth money and time than therapy. they were very nice and calm and I don’t know how they knew my job but I was like “lol idk why I did that you’re right”

#whispering zephyr #just wanna type this in case I forget next morning alkdfjlkadjf

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i-have-been-changed-for-good · 5 years

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Yuanfen

Monday - Scott comes in when I'm down the hall putting creamer in my coffee. Him and Steve are talking so when I head back and wave at him, he distractedly waves to me as he tries to listen to Steve. There's an employee meeting before lunch that I decide not to go since its not mandatory, and i can never pay attention in them so I'd rather get work done. It's a little after 12 when everyone comes back in from the warehouse. Scott stops outside his office door and some guy is talking to him. I walk past with my lunch and Scott gives me a glance. Greg's wife had brought in their baby while everyone was in the meeting. I talked to them for a few minutes. They take their daughter around after everyone comes back inside. Of course, they take her in to see Scott (Steve is on lunch). I don't hear anything other than Scott saying, "Yeah, we get that all the time too," obviously referring to his wife and daughter. Just like Friday, conversations he and I can never have, parts of Scott's life he has to omit to spare my feelings. He can casually talk to other people about his wife and daughter, but not me. I don't want him to, but that's not the point. There is a barrier between us. Our relationship cannot be completely open, at least on his end. Can my feelings for Scott ever be 100% real when there is so much of his life that he has to keep tucked away? When I walk past during my lunch, Scott turns at the last second. I go to his doorway and we start talking. I say how I was the only person who didn't go to the meeting and he says him and Steve weren't gonna go but some guy (I forget who he said) mentioned how they were gonna announce Boss Chris's 15 year mark, and they both felt obligated to go after that. I ask how his weekend was and he says he was out and about Saturday. I say I was out Sunday and I thought ShopRite was bad till I got to Wal-Mart, which was worse. Scott laughs. I tell him him I also went to Target and I got onesie Christmas pajamas and I can't wait to wear them. He grins at me and asks me about them. I tell him i don’t have a pic but they have little Santa's on them. I show him a picture of my cookies and he says they turned out good. I ended up eating like 7 or 8 cookies, to which Scott reacts like “wtf” and I tell him it was because some kept breaking so I kept eating them lol. He still doesn't know what he's bringing. I tell him it just can't be cookies because I can't have anyone trying to overshadow my cookies. I tell him he should dress up but he thinks he only has 1 red shirt. I say how along with my Christmas sweater I also have Christmas socks. I wonder if Steve is going to notice since last time he kept telling me he really liked my bat socks. It was as if he'd never seen socks before. Scott wonders if he can bring something with alcohol in it and I tell him it is possible to bake with alcohol. I start listing alcohols I've seen in recipes and when I say bourbon (bore-bun) he has no idea what I'm saying. "Do you mean bourbon?" (Burr-bun). I tell him yeah and he says I was saying it way wrong. "But I've always said it like that." "Well it's wrong." "Don't make fun of my speech impediment." "You don't have a speech impediment." He smiles. I start messing with the o-ring and end up twirling it off the desk. Scott smiles at me. I say, "I'm not as good as I once once." "Out of practice?" "Yeah." He tells me he was kind of sick all weekend with a cold but he's feeling better. I tell him i like his shirt and he thanks me and tells me it's the brand Fox. He assumes I've never heard of them but I tell him i used to have a Fox hoodie. He says how some guy he used to know/work with (I can't remember) would give him free clothes, so his shirt is pretty old. I ask if he got one of the goodies they handed out last week and he did. I tell him they gave me a large and it's way too big, and Scott says Steve was mad cuz they gave him a medium when he wanted a large. So I can switch with Steve. He starts talking about Royal Farms and asks if I’ve ever been there. "Is that that chicken place?” “Yeah.” “Why would I go there?” Scott smiles and says he forgot. After Steve comes back in from lunch I go in to exchange hoodies with him. He thanks me for the large and says his is at home, but he’ll bring it in tomorrow for me. I look over at Scott, who is looking at me in his window reflection.

I decide to get Scott a little something for Christmas. At first, I look for Eagles merch but anything worth getting is a bit expensive (like $30 and up), and no offense to Scott but I don’t think I should spend that much on him. I did find a tumbler that was pretty nice that wasn’t too expensive, but it only made me think of the one I saw him bring in a few times with his daughter on it that says, “I love you, mom”, a gift no doubt he gave to his wife. I start searching random keywords on etsy and Amazon and end up finding a mug that says, “I’m always late but worth the wait.” At first I think this is great, since Scott is late every morning and I wait for him to greet him, but then I decide maybe it’s not appropriate since Scott’s side of things are still a bit muddy. I eventually find a mug (pictured below) that I think is a pretty good gift for Scott and immediately reminds me of him when I see it. I’ve seen this phrase so many times and always find it funny, but until now I never connected it to Scott. It won’t arrive before Christmas, but I don’t mind giving it to him after.

Tuesday - The day of the Christmas party. My Grinch cookies are below. I drew the sign with pen and highlighters so that everyone would know what my cookies were :)

I don’t get to greet Scott in the morning, and I don't get to see him till later in the morning. The printer runs out of paper and there's none left in the cabinet, so I go out to get a box. There's one already open with some stacks taken out, so I decide to grab the whole box and do one trip. I have to knock on the door to come in because of this. Steve let's me in and I squeeze by him, facing their office doorway. Scott is seated and facing the doorway. He's grinning at me (most likely because of my outfit) and I grin back at him with my tongue between my teeth. I walk by again not too long after, and Boss Chris is in their office. Scott laughs and I feel that warm light fill me. When Chris leaves and walks by my cubicle, he says he got veggie hoagies in the trays he brought. I smile and say I noticed and thank him. I checked the tray when I was helping set up the room. When the room is finally done and all the food set out, I go around and tell everyone the food is done. I save the best for last and go to Scott's office doorway and tell him, Steve, and Chris the food is ready. They're the last ones who get up to get food though. When Scott is done and walks out of the room, I happen to be walking past the doorway. I catch his eye but then my eyes flicker to his lips as he gets closer. I can't help myself. Someone goes in to him and Steve and says congrats, but idk who it's said to or why, but it sounds like Scott is talking back to the guy. My first thoughts are either fantasy football or his wife is pregnant. If it's the latter I guess I will find out soon enough. But I know Scott doesn't want anymore kids, so I'm hoping this is just my anxiety. I try to logically think through it, but my anxiety continues to escalate. It's been really good lately from my new meds. I hear someone ask him about how much he won, and I realize he must have won the fantasy league. My anxiety is slowly replaced with happiness. Everyone on our aide of the building goes up front to take a Christmas photo. I sneak glances at Scott as we all get situated and wonder how I find him more and more handsome as time goes on. Since we've started talking again, it's gone up several notches. It's like my brain was like, "Okay, time to make up for 3 months of not talking to Scott." "But it was only like 3 weeks." "That's what I said: 3 months." We take the photo, Joyce and I having to squat down since we're in a bad spot. Scott is almost at the center of the photo, his arms crossed, exuding confidence, standing out even more in his bright blue fleece. He looks so good. After the photo, I use the women's room, and when I come up the hall, I hear the coffee machine. Scott and I lock eyes and exchange small smiles. I ask him what he brought and he said the canolli dip, which I tell him i had and it was decent. I ask if he tried my grinch cookies and he says he hasn't, to which I make a sad face, and he says he hasn't had any dessert yet. I tell him Chris got me veggie hoagies and he grins and says, "That was thoughtful of him." I ask where his Christmas spirit is and he says he doesn't have anything Christmassy, even though last week he definitely said he has something red. I put my arms to the side and move, showing him the lights of my sweater, and I lift my leg and explain my socks, which is a picture of cats pulling Santa's sleigh. He laughs at me. Right after I have to ask Steve about an order, and Scott watches me the whole time, which he normally doesn't do. Joyce and I go down to the warehouse kitchen to go get Joyce's decorations from down there. We come back in, then go down to get Pete's crockpot and containers. I carry the crockpot so Joyce holds the warehouse door open for me. Scott is walking into his doorway. We don't react (we can't) but we lock eyes. Tom goes in to talk to Scott at the end of the day. I use the bathroom, but when I come out, he’s still in there. I go to the paper bin when there’s maybe 2 or 3 minutes left. Scott comes out as I’m walking over and we exchange “hey”s. I don’t get to go in and talk to him. However, on the way to my therapists I somehow end up next to Scott at a red light!!! Crazy. I’m not re-writing about that since I already did that here, along with posting out Christmas photos.

Wednesday - Steve doesn’t come in. Just Scott. He’s been extra late lately so I end up not being able to wait for him when he comes in. However, I go to make my coffee when I’m finished with my smoothie, and as I walk over to the machine, Scott comes out with his lunch bag. He drops something and picks it up as he walks, then looks up at me. He smiles when he see it’s me and we greet each other. He’s at the fridge when I start walking up the hall to get my creamer, then he goes to the water jug. We exchange flirty “hey”s.

I go down the hall and Scott is in his chair, already getting to work. I know even when Steve is here, sometimes in the morning I can tell they’re both really busy. I can’t contain myself so I go in anyway. “I saw you yesterday?” I’m beaming at him and he smiles at me and asks, “Really?” Where at?” “On the White Horse Pike. It was at a red light. I was jamming out to my music and just happened to look over and asked myself, ‘Is that Scott?’ And sure enough, it was you.” I start cracking up. He laughs too. He didn’t see me and I tell him how he was pulled up further than me. I tell him I wasn’t sure if I should pull up, honk, and wave, and he says I should have. I knew that immediately afterward, but I at least feel good about it now telling Scott I saw him. He says he normally doesn’t go that way home because of all the traffic but that he had to stop at Home Depot on the way home. He asks me why I was up that way and I tell him my therapist is in Lindenwold. I tell him I normally have 6:30 appointments but could only get a 5:40. I just think it’s crazy how I ended up going that way at a different time than usual and Scott had to go that way too on the same exact day and despite all of the traffic, we still ended up next to each other at a red light. I see on the calendar that Steve will be late, though I can’t see what time since he writes small, so I decide to soak up a little more time with Scott while I can. I ask if he had my cookies yesterday and he said he did and that they were good, and he adds on that he actually had too many cookies yesterday. I want to tell Scott he looked good in the Christmas photo (well, ideally I would like to tell him he looked sexy, but I can’t do that) so I ask him if he liked the Christmas photos from yesterday. “The one where your eyes are closed? Yeah, that was great.” I laugh and tell him to shut up. He says it’s okay, it wasn’t a great photo of anyone, but I tell him he looked good, to which he responds, “No, my t-shirt was hanging out.” “Oh, God, stop. That’s not nearly as bad as closing your eyes at the exact second the photo is taken.” Scott laughs and I tell him I will talk to him later. He keeps looking at me and giving me his attention while also working, but I don’t want to keep distracting him.

Scott uses the bathroom, unbeknownst to me, and I happen to get up and grab stuff I printed when he comes out. I turn around just as he’s almost at the top of the hallway. He looks so sexy, dressed in all black, the coffee stirrer in between his lips, his straight, swaggering walk. I can’t help but smile at him and he smiles back at me. I go out into the warehouse and when I come back in, Scott is in his doorway holding his tumbler and talking to Steve. It looks like he’s on his way to go up the hall to clean it, so I grab my cold coffee and head out to go to the microwave. I see in my peripheral he started up his hall at the same time, but I walk faster. I turn left and a second later he comes up. I beam at him and he asks, "Are you following me?" "No, I was here first." "No, I was." "Uh, no, I don't think so." After i start the microwave I lean against the wall, my outer hip popped out and my arms crossed, a flirty smile on my face. Scott looks at me, catches my eye, and gives me a flirty smile back. He fills his tumbler with water from the jug and shakes it over the sink. I ask, "What are you doing?" "I don't use the sink water. It's contaminated." I laugh and say, "Do you also use the jug water to wash your hands?" He pauses before saying, "Yeah" but I know that's not true. The look on my face must convey that so he adds, "I do." "So you'll be the only one without e. coli." "Yeah." I grin, walk closely around him, and go into the bathroom. When I come back out, Scott is standing at his desk with a tissue or napkin. He sees me and then turns away. I walk down the hall and right before I turn out of view he looks at me.

During my lunch, Boss Chris is in there talking to Scott. I hate when he does this. He can go in any time of day; I only have so much time during my lunch to talk to Scott. I wait and wait and wait, and decide later than usual I will use the individual bathroom and hope for the best. I open the door and see Chris in one of the chairs next to Scott’s desk, I walk by and Scott watches me. I don’t know why I do what I do next, but I feel the need to. I sit down and turn my heater off, and I just listen. Maybe a minute or so later I hear Scott say, "My wife is the same way." Chris says something about wanting a drink and Scott says how his wife gives him a hard time about that too. Scott then mentions his wife's sister. He says "she" a few times throughout the conversation, though idk who he's referring to. He mentions his wife a few more times and then his daughter. I use the bathroom, which takes a while since something is still wrong with my digestive system. I go to the sink and try not to cry. I come out and hear someone go out through the back door. I wait a minute, then fill up my water and see Scott at the gate. I missed him by mere seconds when he walked out to go on lunch.

I have cuties in the mini fridge, so some time in the late afternoon I grab them for a snack. When I walk by Scott’s office, he looks at me, though I don’t react. I heat my tea even later in the day and he looks at me again, and again I don’t react. I heat my tea again a few minutes before the day ends. Scott comes in through the warehouse. I look down at my tea when I start down the hall, and when I look up I see him head to the men's room. I go to my desk then put the papers in the bin. I know Scott knows something is up, though I don’t know how. I wonder if he can feel it like I can feel things with him. I am upset upon hearing Scott talk about his wife, but I’m not going to avoid him. He didn’t mention her to me. I do decide that I can be friendly with him and won’t show that anything is wrong because I think it’s really time he knows. This is hard for me, and maybe it’s too hard for me to continue interacting with him.

Thursday - I wait for Scott like I always do (or attempt to do). I turn to him and he's already looking at me. "Hey, Scott. Good morning." "Hey, Dana. Good morning." His face is neutral.

I'm stamping papers and didn't hear or see Scott walk by me till I turn around. He's going down hall with a case of Heineken, maybe a gift from Steve. I hear the back door sound, and assume he is putting it in his car. I eat an RX bar, grab my toothpaste and head down the hall. The men's room door opens. It's Scott. "Hey, what's up?" "I got stuff stuck in my teeth." He keeps walking. "Have you ever had one of those RX bars? Disgusting." "Yeah, I got one from WaWa before. It's sticky, chewy, right?" "Yeah." I’m at my desk and hear Scott talking to Steve about Christmas and family and his wife. Idk what they're saying, just hear him talking about her. It sounds, like yesterday, that he’s complaining though. I just hear him mentioning not wanting to see some family member of hers. I don’t hear what else he says. It's weird though because he's been mentioning her more but also showing interest in me more. I know I have to do this.

I rinse my Contigo and use the bathroom. When I head back down the hall I hear his printer start, then he walks toward it to grab a paper. I find the look he gives me to be really attractive, but I manage to keep my face neutral.

During my lunch, I use the individual bathroom as usual and prepare myself one last time. I know what I want to say. I just need to tell Scott that I can’t talk to him anymore because it’s too hard, that I’m always going to want this to be more than it is and that’s never going to happen, and that it hurts and I want it to finally stop hurting. I open the door and can tell that Scott is busy, so I don’t want to just go in unless he turns. He doesn’t turn, so I hope for the end of the day. I'm in the bathroom when Scott comes back in from lunch. I print some stuff and Scott happens to be walking toward my cubicle when I get up to grab my papers. He's biting into an apple and holding a small latte in his other hand. He asks me if I want the latte cuz they made it too strong and he doesn't like it. I thank him and he says if I don't like it to just throw it out. Uhh, okay, Scott. This could be the worst latte in the world and I'm still gonna drink it. This is probably the closest my mouth will ever be to his, drinking from his cup. I mean, I did drink from his straw once when he asked if I wanted to try a drink he got, but that was awhile ago. The latte is really strong so I dump a bunch of my liquid stevia in it to make it a bit more bearable. I tear up though. How am I supposed to tell him I cant talk to him anymore? I don't know how to do this. I don’t want to do this, but don’t I have to? Scott makes tea and I print stuff. I tell him the latte is really strong. We don't talk long and he finishes making his tea before I finish stapling. I can see he looks at me before walking away. I print more invoices and then Scott comes back down my hall instead of his. We say hey. I know he only goes that way to walk by my cubicle. I heat the latte a little while later and use the individual bathroom. As I close the door, I see Scott packing up, and he sees me too. No, no, no, no. He can't be leaving. I saw on the calendar last week he had his name and a time, but I thought it said 5:00, which I thought was weird, but I guess it was a 2 not a 5. I pee, all the while panicking he’s going to leave without saying bye. I am panicking for two reasons: 1. I have to now wait till after Christmas to say what I need to say to Scott and 2. I want to tell Scott Merry Christmas. I open the door. He's still standing there. He’s done packing up and he’s just looking down at his cellphone, and I know he was waiting for me to get back to my desk before he leaves. I walk down the hall and go back to my desk. I still feel a little shaky, but also a bit more relieved that Scott waited for me. Not even a minute later he says bye to Steve. I hear him walk out and go over to the coffee machine to grab something. I turn around in my chair and move a few inches closer to my doorway, but Scott comes walking into view anyway. "You're leaving?" My voice is a mix of curiosity and disappointment. "Yeaaah.” He walks over to the left (his right, my left) side of my doorway as he always does, or well, used to do. I wait for him to say more. I know he won’t be in tomorrow and then he says it: “And I have off tomorrow." "Okay. Merry Christmas, Scott." I smile at him lovingly. He says, "Alright, Dane. Thanks. You have a nice Christmas too." We smile at each other for a few moments. I’m taking him in, burning the image of his face into my brain. The funny thing is though, his look is mirroring mine. Then he walks away. I go into the bathroom to cry. I tell myself “I didn’t get to do it” but I know that’s not the reason I’m really crying. I’m crying because this hurts, because I want so much more with Scott and I don’t know if that will ever be possible. I had said out loud last night before bed that if I wasn’t meant to end this with Scott, even if just for the time being, then have some sort of interference. I take it as a sign that maybe I just have to power through this again. I come back out of the bathroom and see it started raining.

I think about a bunch of things a bit later, and maybe none of it means anything, but maybe it does. I’m not huge into horoscopes, but I do think they can be fun (until they aren’t). Scott is a Capricorn, and I remember reading that Capricorns will deny their feelings for someone until they can’t anymore. This is probably wishful thinking on my part, but I do keep it in mind. I also read before that they tend to settle for less than they deserve, and stay because of their fierce loyalty. I think about snippets I heard this week, and maybe Scott’s little complaints about his wife is a normal thing guys do from time to time. It could also be a sign Scott isn’t happy though. I think about the rumor and how he said he wanted to avoid a fight, and when I asked him questions about it he seemed taken off-guard. I know couples fight, but there’s healthy fighting and unhealthy fighting, and I still strongly believe that in a strong relationship there won’t be a stupid fight like the one he was trying to avoid. Anyway, what do I know, right? I’ve never been married. I also thought about Scott’s neck and back pain, and I always wondered why he kept paying to get massages. Why wouldn’t his wife give him massages? I thought about when Scott’s old friend died and he seemed to struggle with whether he should go to the funeral or not, and I helped talk him through his decision, reassuring him that it was okay if he didn’t go. I wondered why his wife wasn’t the one talking him through this, or maybe he was confiding in me as a friend. I remember when he wanted to go to his nephew’s graduation and how irritable he was when he said he intended to go but it didn’t work out that way. I can’t say for sure, but maybe his wife had something to do with him not going. I didn’t push the subject because I didn’t want to hear Scott talk about his wife (even in the negative) and he did seem really mad. I also thought about the week and a half Steve was in Disney and how the one day Scott was having a particularly rough day and I asked him if there was any way I could make his day better. I think about the look he gave me and just...I don’t know. Is this a man who is happy in his marriage? I’ve asked this question so many times before but not for a long time now, but for the first time, I feel a stronger pull toward “no” than “yes.”

Wednesday, the day after Christmas - Having some time to regain my composure, I realize that making a decision when I’m upset is not the best way to go. I know it will just be Scott today, no Steve. I think about leaving the gift on Scott’s desk, but decide I would rather hand it to him and then watch him open it.

Scott comes in extra late, close to 9:00. I see him when I go out into the warehouse a little after 11, but he's busy. I go back out maybe 20 minutes later and he's typing. When I come back in this time I say, "Hey, Scott." He turns to me, a little startled, smiles and says, "Hey, Dana. What's up?" I'm not sure if I should stop or leave because he's still turned toward me, but I decide to walk away, though not before pausing awkwardly outside Steve’s window as I try to decide what to do. I plan on going in there during my lunch to give him his gift, so I will talk to him soon. So I wash my bowl after I'm done eating, use the bathroom, then head back. Scott is engrossed in his work and looks a little stressed, so I wait a minute or 2 before going in. I grab his gift and go into his office. "Hey," I say as I enter. He turns to me and greets me back. I grin and add "Merry Christmas" and hold the gift out. He grins back. "What? You got me a present?" "Yeah." "You didn't have to do that." "I know. I wanted to." He grins up at me. His face is unshaven, dark hairs mixed with grays. I wish I could touch his face. "Do you like the wrapping paper?" "Yeah." "It's my favorite wrapping paper. I don’t just give that to anyone, you know." He looks at me and smiles and then asks, "I guess you want me to open it now?" "Mmhmm." He pulls the bow and card off and reads my note. He then pulls off the paper, and I don't really know how to describe it, but it's so cute how he does it. Slowly, like he’s in no rush, but also fully focused on what he’s doing. Of course, I find every little thing about him to be attractive, so I guess it's no surprise I find this cute somehow. He can't figure out how to open the box. I show him which side to open it on and tell him I had trouble too. The box was a bit confusing. He pulls out the mug and laughs, then thanks me. I say, "You're welcome. I thought it was even more fitting for today since you were extra late." "Well I had a doctor's appointment, so it was a scheduled lateness." He tells me again I didn't have to get him anything and I tell him i wanted to. "I hope you didn't spend a lot on me." "No. Don't worry about it." A year ago, Scott stood in his doorway and tried to talk to me, though I was so taken off-guard by this and also the fact that I had seen a light where he stood before seeing him. Then he asked if I needed help with the boxes and he did help me. I remember feeling like I kissed him before. And now, a year later, I stand in Scott’s office giving him a Christmas gift. If you had told me this last year, I would have been like, “Uhhh, why am I not further along than that?” but there has been so much in between, so much that I can’t believe I’ve actually managed to put into words. Scott asks how my Christmas was and I tell him I’ve had better. My dad was wasted when I got there Christmas Eve and my mom and aunt had a huge fight on Christmas. I show him the drawing I did for my dad and Scott is really impressed. I ask how Christmas was for his daughter and he says she was a little scared at the idea of Santa, but then she was happy when she saw all of the gifts. He asks if I have plans for NYE and I tell him I’m going to a big party at a friend’s house. He hasn’t gone out for NYE since having his daughter. I see he has a football trophy and ask if he won Fantasy Football. He says he came in first place. We talk about that a bit and I stay in there talking to him until my lunch is over.

I see Scott again a little later in the day. He’s talking really loudly over to people in the sales department, but it sounds like he’s in his doorway or just outside his doorway. I genuinely have to grab papers I’ve had printing, so I get up. I start stapling and am angled a bit toward Scott’s office. He’s standing in his doorway. I look up and he looks over at me, and I see something in his expression, like he’s happy to be looking at me.

I don’t get to talk to Scott again until I leave. He won’t be in the rest of the week. I go to his doorway and he turns his chair to face me, as if he was anticipating me coming to say bye. I say, “Bye, Scott. Happy New Year.” He doesn’t hear my second sentence because he started saying “Bye, Dane” at the same time. He then says, “Thanks again for the gift.” “You’re welcome. Happy New Year.” “Happy New Year.” I don’t walk away right away. Just like last week when we said Merry Christmas, Scott and I are both taking each other in. I walk away and continue looking him through Steve’s window, and as I do look away, I can see in my peripheral vision that Scott watches me until I pass out of view. I know that this can only end in one of two ways: either something happens between Scott and I, or it gets to the point where I really can’t do this anymore and end our friendship. For now, I can no longer wonder about where this is going. I know now that it will go where it needs to go, and that that’s where it’s always been going. I know that that’s how it’s always been. For now, I will continue to talk to Scott as usual and to just continue hoping for the best. If I’m being honest though, I feel like good things are coming.

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