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stephspurs · 3 years ago

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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The Proposals

MAIN MASTERLIST

bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: Bucky tries to propose to you, but nothing ever works.

Bucky knew on the second date, that he was going to marry you. But he also knew, that it would freak you out that if on date three, he asked you to marry him. So he waited. But a man in love could only wait so long. By the time you and him had been dating for seven months, Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. He dragged Steve and Sam to jewelry stores across New York, in search of the perfect ring.

After losing hope for the perfect ring, Tony offered to design one. For free. Bucky struggled with Tony’s offer, but eventually gave in once Tony and Steve showed him the sketches and mock ups they’d put together. Wanda and Natasha helped put everything together when the night came. There were lights strung up everywhere on top of the compound, a small table was set up for the two to enjoy dinner, and Bucky and ordered your favorite meal. Bucky had been nervous all day, he got dressed in his best suit hours before you two were scheduled for your date.

You were suppose to be coming home from a long Avengers business trip tonight. You had been going to different countries, advocating for the Avengers Initiative. Bucky and you talked everyday, but that was not enough for either of you. You were currently on your way back to the compound, flying on a quinjet from London. Exhausted, you decided to put the quinjet into autopilot and get a few moments of sleep before your date with Bucky tonight. The blissful thought of sleep soon was far away when a call came in from Fury.

“I have an emergency assignment for you,” he stated.

“Sir, I’m just coming off a long assignment,” you explained. “All I want to do is see my boyfriend and sleep.”

“You’re the closest to the emergency. I’ve already got your quinjet rerouting to the location and the information of the mission is being sent to you.”

“But—“

“And I have Rogers in charge of telling Barnes that you won’t make it. Good luck.”

You sighed, running a hand down your face before getting up and changing into your hero gear. All you longed for is a lazy night with Bucky but, as you skimmed through the information Fury sent, that seemed to be a few more days away.

Steve, on the other hand, was trying to pawn Fury’s assignment off on anyone else on the team. No one would take it. They were all hiding in the lab, trying to get someone to go up to the roof and tell Bucky the news. They had all witnessed his nervousness all day, and were even subject to some aggression from it. So they were all a little scared for their lives when it came to telling him that you wouldn’t be home for a few more days. Eventually, when the time came that you were suppose to be arriving home, Sam gave in and sat that he’d do it, as long as everyone else came as back up. They all agreed and headed up to the roof.

Bucky was pacing like crazy when they arrived. Tony had to suppress the urge to make a comment about wearing through the roof the closer they got.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve called. He had really tried to control his tone, but his best friend was an assassin. There was no hiding from him.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky quickly asked, fear taking over his whole figure. “Did something happen? Please tell me that Y/N’s okay.”

“She’s okay, Barnes,” Sam stepped forward. “She just won’t be able to make it tonight.”

Bucky’s face fell. “What? Why?”

“Fury called her in on another assignment. Looks like she won’t be able to come home for another couple of days.”

The team all flinched as Bucky’s metal hand hit the table, making the objects on it go flying. They all took a step back as they watched the anger in him grow. He suddenly flipped the table over before stomping to the roof stairs. The rest of the team stood their watching, feeling bad for him. They all knew that Bucky was nervous about this and that it was hard for the man to be open like this, but there was nothing that could have been done.

Bucky was moody the rest of the days you were gone. No one could stand to be around him, mostly because they were a kind of afraid for their lives. When he wasn’t taking his feelings out in the training room, he was locked away in your shared bedroom. Four days after the planned proposal, you stumbled out of the quinjet. The mission had not been as easy as Fury made it out to be. You were successful, but you were now more exhausted than you ever thought possible, had a bleeding cut down your leg, and you were pretty sure your ankle was sprained.

Everyone was there waiting for you in the hanger and were not happy to see your condition as you stumbled from the quinjet. Bucky was the least amount of happy about your condition. Anger was again his best friend. But the more he watched you move closer to him, the more worried he became. Bucky rushed over, immediately sweeping you up into his arms, bridal style.

“Oh, doll,” he whispered, his eyes worriedly raking over your wounds.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you said quietly, clearly worn out. “Just tired.”

“Let’s get you to the med bay.”

The proposal was long forgotten in the midst of taking care of you. Yes, Bucky wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. But it was more important right now that you get healed. You were ordered off your leg for at least a month. Not making you very happy, but Bucky was. That meant that you were kept safe from harm and he could take care of you whenever he wasn’t away on missions.

Both Natasha and Wanda pushed Bucky to try and propose several times while you were benched and he was taking care of you. But nothing ever worked. He’d get called away on a last minute mission or you’d be too exhausted from physical therapy to do anything. He tried 4 times during the time you were benched, nothing worked. And Bucky was getting frustrated.

After about two and a half months, you were given the clearance to train and put weight on the leg again. And Bucky went back to planning another proposal. He knew he didn’t want to do the same thing he had planned to the last time, bad luck and all. So this time, he was going simpler. He planned a movie night, just the two of you. Bucky bought all your favorite treats and your favorite pizza. The only thing he forgot to mention, apparently, was the fact that it was a date. He was getting everything set up when you walked in with Tony, Bruce, and Sam.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled, coming up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Theses guys told me that they were bored tonight. So I invited them to our moving night. Is that okay?”

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists as he looked at the men behind him. He immediately reprimanded himself for not letting the team in on his plan. When his eyes came down to look at you, he was met with your best puppy dog face and he could never say no to that.

“Sure,” he grumbled. “Why not.”

“Thank, babe!” You gave him a peck on the lips before helping the others get settled.

The rest of the night, Bucky was constantly crumpling things in his hands while he felt like the small box in his pocket was burning a hole into thigh. You were too engrossed in the movie and talking to Tony to notice Bucky’s irritation. But Sam did, and simply just smirked at the man.

When the others had left and Bucky and you had started cleaning up, you began to notice his mood by his silence and way he was throwing things away.

“What’s wrong, babe?” You asked, folding up a blanket.

“Nothing,” Bucky answered, far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” You moved to stand in front of him, curling your arms around his waist. “Did Tony say something to upset you, or Sam even?”

“None of them said anything. I’m fine.” He pushed away from you, moving into the kitchen with the trash.

“I don’t believe you.” You followed him closely. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?”

“I am!” Bucky yelled, turning sharply to face you.

You jumped back, taken back by his reaction. Bucky had never raised his voice at you, ever. Tears pricked your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart. Bucky’s anger slowly faded, being replaced by guilt as he watched you shrink into yourself.

“Doll, I—“ He went to apologize and reach out for you but you took another step back.

“I don’t know what happened tonight to make you mad,” your voice quivered as you spoke, “but that reaction was not okay.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Yet you did.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m going to go sleep somewhere else tonight. Let you calm down.”

“No,” Bucky frantically shook his head. “Please, don’t.” He tried to reach for you again, but you walked away.

“Some sleep might do you some good, Buck. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And then you were gone. Bucky fell back against the fridge and slid down it, head buried in his hands. He’d really done it now. You were never going to accept his proposal now.

You spent the night in Natasha’s bed, since she was away on a mission. Though, you didn’t get much sleep. You never did when you weren’t with Bucky, and same with him. And it clearly showed on the both of you in the morning. Dark bags under the eyes, slow movements, blood shot eyes, and solemn expressions. To the rest of the team, it was clear that something happened last night. They were just all too scared to ask what.

Bucky spent most of the next day in the training room, taking out his aggression, while you spent most of the day in your and Bucky’s shared space in the compound. You were trying to rack your mind around why Bucky had been acting so ornery lately. You were in your room when Steve called you in for a mission. It was going to be a smaller mission with just you and Steve. You were getting ready when Bucky walked into the room.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Bucky stated.

Those words cause your heart to crack a little. Those were never good to hear. “Yes, Buck?” You replied, still getting ready while trying to keep yourself together.

“There’s something that’s been on my mind lately and I— wait. Where are you going?”

“Steve’s asked me to join him on a mission.”

“Already? I know you were approved, but are you sure? I’m worried that you—“

“Well you don’t need to be. I’ll be fine.” You flung your backpack over shoulder. “Will you be?”

“Will I be?”

“You’ve been acting strange lately. And then you come in saying that we need to talk… Bucky…” You sighed. “Did you come in to break up with me?”

“Break up with you? No!” He shook his head. “I would never.”

“Then what’s going on? You’ve been so aggravated lately and yesterday… well… you’ve never shouted at me like that before… it honestly hurt.”

“Baby…” He walked up to you, setting a gentle hand on your cheek. “I’m so sorry about last night. I just… I’ve been trying to…” His hand fell down to his side with a sigh. “I was going to propose,” he mumbled.

“What?” Your jaw dropped.

“And it hasn’t been the first time I tried… I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I was just so frustrated that none of my plans have worked.”

“Y-you…. You’ve been trying to propose? For how long?”

“My first attempt was when you were suppose to come home after your long business trip. But then Fury sent you on a mission and you came home injured… I tried multiple other times, but then I was called away or you were too tired. Then last night, that’s why I ordered your favorite pizza and snacks. I just wanted it to be you and me and—”

“And then I invited the boys. Oh, Buck.” You engulfed him in a hug. “I’m so sorry. Will you ever forgive me?”

“I would always forgive you.”

You and Bucky let your lips meet for a kiss. Upon parting, you decided to be brave.

“So,” you whispered, “are you going to ask me?”

Bucky quickly retrieved the small box from his pocket and opened it as he got down on one knee. “Y/N L/N, I love you will everything I have. I can’t picture my life without you. Will you—“

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve called, barging into the room. “Are you— woah.” He froze, studying the situation in front of him. “Am I interrupting something?”

Bucky groaned, allowing his head to fall against your stomach. You laughed as you set your hands on Bucky’s head.

“You think?” You giggled.

“I’m just gonna— yeah,” Steve rushed as he ran out.

“Is he gone?” Bucky said into your stomach.

“He’s gone. Now hurry before the team shows up.”

He leaned back into his original position. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Hallelujah,” Bucky muttered as he slipped the ring on your finger.

“Hurry up and kiss me so that we can escape before we’re never left alone again.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier #the winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #winter solider x reader #winter solider imagine

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Stood Up | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Reader has the worst taste in men. Fortunately, Tom is there to pick up the pieces. He is such a good friend but what if he wants to move out of the friendzone and into something more?

Warnings: Fluff and Humor, Drinking, Bad Boyfriends, bad taste in men, Mutual Pining, Implied Smut, Blind Date

Tom was just getting ready to sit down for a late dinner when his phone buzzed against the table. His brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting any calls this late. Luke would just show up on the stoop and pound on the door until he answered. And besides, he had done nothing in the last few days to incur the trademark Windsor wrath.

He smiled when he saw your photo on his screen. That ridiculous photo he snapped of you at your birthday last year. He tapped the screen to take the call.

“Date going that well?” Tom retorted with a giggle.

“Can you come and get me?” you sobbed into the phone.

“What happened?” Tom stood to his feet, dinner forgotten as he slipped his shoes back on and grabbed his keys.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, of course, whatever. Where am I heading?” He was already halfway out the door.

“The usual spot.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Tom got there in eight minutes.

You paced outside the pub as Tom pulled up to the sidewalk. You walked around and slid into the front passenger seat before Tom could get out.

He noticed the mascara streaking down your cheeks. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“Just drive please, Tom. I will explain later.”

Tom shifted into drive and took off down the road. He drove in silence. At the first red light, he leaned away to fish a handkerchief out of his back pocket.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” You blew your nose and wiped away most of your now ruined makeup.

“Can I at least get his name?”

“Shawn.”

“Shawn.” Tom repeated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Tom didn’t bother asking where to take you. He knew the answer. He always knew. Tom pulled the car into his driveway and switched off the engine. This time you let him open the door and help you out of the car.

Once inside, he set about making you a cup of tea. He placed the cup in front of you, steam trailing up towards the ceiling.

“So?” Tom questioned as he sipped from his own mug.

A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Followed by another. And then soon a flood. “He stood me up.”

“I’ll kill the bastard.” Tom slammed his fist on the table.

You chuckled. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it. Tell me the rest.”

“I cried for thirty minutes at the bar before the bartender took pity on me.” You hiccuped before taking another sip of your tea. “He gave me free drinks for the rest of the night.”

Tom pulled you close and cradled you against his chest. “I am so sorry, darling. Would you like to crash here tonight?”

You nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Tom smiled and placed your empty cup next to his. “Your clothes are in the bureau in the spare bedroom and the bathroom is stocked.”

You rose and leaned over and kissed Tom’s cheek. His eyes squeezed closed. “You are too good to me, you realize that right?” you commented, a smile returned to your face.

Tom smiled back, his heart sinking. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“A best friend. See you in the morning?”

“Of course!” his smile remained tightlipped. “If I am not back from my run, make yourself at home.”

You hugged him once again before heading off to shower and sleep. Tom sat at the table for a while longer, head in hands and heart heavy.

You woke the next morning to a pounding headache and an empty stomach. Last night’s memories flooded back to you. You rolled over with a groan.

“Fuck….” you moaned as you sat up and stretched out. Your back cracked and your shoulders relaxed.

You stood and grabbed the spare robe you stashed in the closet and headed to the kitchen. The sound of music filtered through the house along with the smells of bacon and coffee.

Tom stood at the stove, his spoon acting as a microphone as he belted out a song.

“Bye, bye love...” His hips swayed to the guitar strum. “Bye, bye happiness.”

Tom continued to dance, and you leaned against the door frame, enjoying the show. Tom spun on his heel and stopped when he saw you. He dropped the spoon to his side.

“How long have you been standing there?” he questioned.

“Long enough to question whether you missed your calling as a singer.” you giggled as you made your way to the coffee, pouring a large mug.

“Hilarious. I hope you have an appetite.”

“Always.” You snagged a piece of bacon as Tom swatted at your hand.

“Sit.” He gestured to the table. “It will just be another moment.”

You went to snag more bacon, but Tom caught your hand this time.

“Fine.” you pouted.

Tom smiled as he spied you heading towards the table. This was his favorite time. The morning after. Just the two of you. How he wished it could always just be the two of you. Every morning and every night.

“Eat up.” Tom plopped the plate filled with a full English breakfast.

“The Hiddleston special.” You tucked in, and Tom did the same.

You thought as you chewed your food. You thought throughout the entire breakfast. Your furrowed bow did not go unnoticed by Tom.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked as he cleared the plates.

You contemplated whether or not to lie.

“Why do I always pick the wrong guy?”

Tom was grateful he was facing away from you when you blurted out your question because his face would have given his feelings away. He took a moment to compose himself before turning to face you.

“Oh come on, they all weren’t as bad as this last guy. What about that one bloke name started with a ‘c’? Connor?”

“Charles.” you grimaced.

Tom snapped. “Charles! He seemed all right.”

You slumped in your chair. “I never told you, did I?”

“Told me what?” Tom sat down.

“Remember how I took those three weeks off a few years ago?”

“You said something about needing to use up some vacation time.”

“Well I lied. I had an accident.”

Tom grabbed your hand. His thumb running along your knuckles. “An accident? Why didn’t you call? I could have—”

“You were in Vietnam, remember?” you smiled, placing your hand on top of his, stilling his nervous gesture.

“Right.” Tom lowered his head in guilt. He should have been here. For you. “What does this have to do with Charles? I thought he broke up with you.”

“Not exactly. When I called to tell him about the accident, on the way to hospital he stopped and had a pint with some of his mates.” A big tear fell from your eye.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Tom yelled at the top of his lungs. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“He was supposed to meet them. He stopped on the way to tell them he couldn’t stay.” you made excuses.

“AND DRANK A FUCKING PINT?!” Tom seethed. If he knew it wouldn’t break his hand, he would punch the wall right now.

“The important thing is…” you hissed. “… this just demonstrates I have rubbish taste in men.”

Tom’s demeanor softened as he recognized the hurt and pain in your voice. He pulled to his side, holding you tight. “All it takes is one good one.”

“Is that all? Is it that simple?” You gave a hollow laugh. Tom continued to hold you tight. The seconds ticked by and you found yourself not wanting to leave his side. You cleared your throat. “I should head back to my place.”

“Right!” Tom nervously wiped his hands on his jeans. “Can I take you to lunch this week? My treat.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.” You turned to leave. Tom grabbed your wrist.

“Just so you know,” Tom’s eyes wide. “if you ever were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for a beer.” You nodded and attempted to leave, but Tom held his grip tight. “I wouldn’t stop for red lights.”

“Good to know.” you gulped.

Benedict stopped by later that day at Tom’s request.

“I can see by your face you still haven’t told her your true feelings.” Ben pulled a beer from the fridge.

“How can I now, Ben? We have been friends for over four years! If that is not being friend zoned, I’m not sure what is.”

Ben grabbed a second beer from the fridge and handed it to Tom, who gladly accepted it.

“True, but how many of your female friends call you when their date goes wrong?” Tom opened his mouth to respond, but Benedict held up a hand to cut him off. “Or keeps clothes in the bureau in your spare room? Or cancels a vacation to see your opening night performance?”

“She told me the resort closed because of a fire?!”

“She told Sophie the truth. Who told me. Soph swore me to secrecy.”

“You rat.”

“My point is… “ Ben gave Tom a knowing glance. “… this is not normal friend behavior.”

“I guess you’re right.” Tom conceded.

“I am right. Plus Sophie may or may not have mentioned that she compares all her dates to you.”

“I thought the two of you were my friends!” Tom scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve known you longer.”

“But I like her better. And so does Soph. She doesn’t eat all our food or get dog hair on the couch.”

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Ben fished it out of his pocket and held it close to his chest.

“I’m going to fling it across the room.” Tom lunged, but Ben jerked backwards. “I’m kidding, I need to call and talk to your wife.”

“To plot my murder?” Ben handed over the phone.

“As tempting as that is, no. I need her to set me up on a date.”

It was only then the look of horror left Benedict’s face.

You chatted with Sophie as you walked to the pub.

“Are you sure I will like this William guy?”

“I’m positive, dear.” Sophie assured you over the phone. “He is just your type.”

“That is what you said about Shawn and Eric and—”

“Okay, so my matchmaking skills have been crap but this guy is different.”

“How? How is this guy different from every other loser you set me up with?”

“Well for one, you have already met this loser.” Sophie snapped back.

“When?”

“Years ago. At a party at our house. I remember the two of you getting into quite a heated conversation.”

Your brows knitted as you tried to place this conversation. The only person who you have those kinds of conversations with is Tom. But again, when you drink you can get quite passionate.

“I will have to take your word for it. How will I recognize this guy?”

“He’ll recognize you.”

“Not stalkerish at all. After this relationship fails, I’m swearing off men.”

“Deal. But you won’t have to, because this guy is a keeper.”

“I highly doubt that, unless you are setting me up Tom which is ridiculous.”

“Completely.” Sophie scoffed. “I don’t even think he is in town right now.”

“Oh.” your voice dropped. Tom always confided in you about his travels. “He didn’t mention anything.”

“It was a last-minute trip.”

“Okay, I’m here, Soph. Wish me luck.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.”

You tapped your foot anxiously against the barstool. William was twenty minutes late. You sighed as the reality that you were being stood up again sunk in.

“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” a familiar voice asked from behind you.

“Tom!” you exclaimed, jumping to your feet and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you!” Tom wrapped his arms around and inhaled the scent of your shampoo and perfume. His stomach fluttered with butterflies.

“Soph said you were out of town.”

“I got back in early.” he lied. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting stood up. Again.” you grumbled.

Tom slid into the seat next to you. “I wouldn’t worry I’m sure William will turn up eventually.” Tom lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention.

Your head snapped around to glare at him. “I never mentioned his name to you. In fact, I never mentioned this date to you.”

“Are you sure?” Tom questioned. He lifted his pint glass to his lips to hide a smile.

“I’m positive. In fact, you have been avoiding my calls all week.”

“I had things I needed to do.” Tom turned to face you.

“Such as?”

“Getting ready for a big date for one.”

Your heart dropped to your shoes. It had been at least a year since Tom had been involved with anyone. You always secretly hoped you and Tom would end up together. But with each passing year, that seemed less and less likely.

“Oh, how did you go?”

“Not sure yet. How is it going?”

“How would I know?” You stared at Tom, who raised an eyebrow. “Oh, oh, OH! What are you saying Thomas William… oh!”

Tom downed the rest of his pint before trusting himself to speak again.

“I’m saying all it takes is one good guy. And a good guy wouldn’t stop for red lights if you were in an accident. Let me be your one good guy. Let it be me.” Tom spat the words out at a rapid pace. He took a deep breath as the last words left his lips.

“But we’re friends.” you countered.

“Good friends. Best friends.” Tom said. “But I want more.”

“Why did you never tell me before?”

“Fear. Stupidity. Take your pick.”

“Why now?”

“Fear. Stupidity.” Tom smiled. “Take your pick. The fact is it is you I want you to wake up next to me for the rest of my life. I want you to be my morning, noon, and night. And the first call when you are in the hospital. That is, if you will have me.” Tom reached out and placed his hand on top of yours.

You necked your drink and placed the glass on the wooden bar top before looking at Tom. He stared at you as if you held his life in your hands. In many ways you did.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. “I would like that too.”

Tom smiled and rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss you. You leaned back and wrapped your arms around his neck, teasing your fingers through his hair. Tom deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

A small moan escaped your lips and some patrons in the bar wolf whistled and someone yelled “get a room”.

Tom and you parted. Tom’s chest heaved. “An excellent suggestion. My place?”

“On the first date? What kind of girl do you take me for, Mr. Hiddleston?” You pushed Tom away in a playful manner.

Tom snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you tight to his side. His lips curved into a devilish smile as they ghost against your ears. “My girl. You are mine.”

His voice sent a jolt of electricity through you as he led you to the exit.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine

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mrslilyrogers · 5 years ago

Text

Betrayal Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

A/N: Hi! I’m new here and still figuring out tumblr. I have no idea how all this goes! This is the first ever story I’m posting online. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head and would like to share it with all of you! Quarantine’s finally given me time to get over posting online, lol. Please comment away whatever you think of the story! This is a very angsty fic! hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: ANGST, CHEATING

She turned in bed flinging her arm out expecting Bucky to be beside her as her groggy mind pulled her back into sleep, only to have her hand bounce back on the empty mattress. Her arm fished farther out, trying to find him in the dark but still, it was empty. Confused, she slowly opened her eyes to blink the sleep away, he wasn’t home. She shot up as the realization hit her and glanced at the clock, its red glaring lights mocking her. 4:25 AM.

Bucky didn’t come home.

She swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. The first few nights he kept coming home late, she waited for him, asked how his day was, what took him so long at work and he’d usually dismiss her with a kiss and her favorite crooked smile as he cuddled up to her in bed making her forget all her worries. Even up until now, after five years of being married, he still had that effect on her. One glance her way with his smirk and she’d still feel her heart flip inside her chest. Whenever he hoisted Lizzie up in the air making her giggle, Y/N was sure her heart was shining in her eyes as she watched them.

And now this.

She knew the first time he told her not to wait up, something was off. He kept coming home later than usual and when he did come home, he smelled of alcohol and as much as Y/N would like to deny it, perfume. A perfume that distinctly wasn’t hers. Instead of confronting him about it, she denied it to herself, closing herself off to the truth that was becoming more and more obvious as the days went on. Instead, she took extra efforts to please him, waking up early to cook his favorite breakfast, preparing his favorite dishes for dinner even though he barely came home for it, trying to pass by his office at lunch so they could spend time together. All the while hoping he would stay and come back to her, come back to being her Bucky.

She wiped the tears that started to drip down her eyes. “Where did it all go wrong? What have I done to deserve this?” A sob came out as soon as she allowed herself to accept the truth. She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her face in between, hugging herself, trying to make herself as small as possible as sobs wracked her body. She cried for Bucky, cried for their family, cried for herself because somewhere in the process, she lost her pride and accepted whatever affection he could afford to give her, like a dog trying to please its owner, and never demanding what she deserved. She might have stayed like that for an hour or more but she knew that if she continued on, Lizzie would wake up and find her mother crying her eyes out and that’s the last thing she wanted. Lizzie, oh god, Lizzie what was she going to do with her sweet daughter? She could accept Bucky cheating on her, neglecting her even but for their daughter, it was unacceptable, she was only four, she did not deserve this. Yet, she was the collateral damage to the shambles of their marriage. The thought made her head hurt, she scrambled out of bed, needing to do something or she’d wallow in self pity and she needed to be strong for her daughter, always for her daughter, even if it meant living in a delusion to keep her family together. She heard footsteps at the stairs of their apartment and quickly grabbed her phone by the bedside table and ran to the bathroom. She leaned against the door, sighing, listening to him shuffling in the bedroom.

“Y/N, you in there? Sorry, fell asleep on Steve’s couch.” Bucky called from the door, no trace of guilt in his voice. Y/N just closed her eyes and sighed.

“About to take a bath!” She replied and checked her phone. No messages from him whatsoever that he’d be at Steve’s apartment. She quickly tried to hide her hurt to take on the day. For her sanity, for Lizzie, the mantra kept repeating itself in her head.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Mommy, why can’t I have cereal?” Lizzie whined from her seat at the counter as Y/N poured her orange juice.

“Yeah, why can’t she have cereal?” Bucky strode in playfully, the scent of his after shave filling Y/N’s senses, making tears prick at her eyes. She quickly turned around and faced the coffee pot, pouring more into her mug. She couldn’t stand to be near him after accepting the truth. She couldn’t face their situation, not yet.

“Daddy!” Lizzie chirped, already lifting her arms for a hug from her self-proclaimed superhero dad.

“How’s my little girl this morning?” He said lifting her up and kissing her cheek which only made her giggle.

“Eat your vegetables, squirt.” Bucky reminded her a little more seriously but with a charming smile nonetheless, and Lizzie, who worships the ground he walks on, eagerly nibbled on the beans from her plate trying to please him. Just like her mother, Y/N thought sarcastically.

She was still turned away from the counter when she felt Bucky sidling up behind her, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her in to kiss her hair.

“Morning, babe,”

“Morning Buck,” She cleared her throat and moved away from him, standing in front of her daughter who was eating her breakfast far more enthusiastically than when her dad wasn’t around. God, this was a mess, what was she going to do? Lizzie clearly adored her father and if she were being honest with herself, she didn’t know how to live without Bucky.

Bucky saw the glassy look in Y/N’s eyes as she stared at their daughter, her hands fiddling in front of her and he instantly knew it was on him. He brought that look on her face, guilt and remorse punched him in the gut.

“Hey,” he said soothingly putting his hand on her back as he was about to apologize about last night.

“Lizzie, drink your juice, daddy will bring you to school,” Y/N flinched away from him, starting to flee the room.

“I gotta go,” She told him, grabbing her bag from the counter, and kissing their daughter on the cheek before heading out. She didn’t glance at him or give him his kiss goodbye like she usually did and instead, avoided looking at him. He froze, feeling the fear creep up on him. She didn’t know, did she?

“Bye Mommy!” Lizzie waved from her chair as Y/N got to the door. She turned around with a genuine smile on her face. God, she was beautiful when she smiled like that, and he missed it, he missed her and he hadn’t even realized it.

“Bye baby,” she said as she blew her a kiss. She cleared her throat and her expression blanked when she turned to him.

“Buck, don’t forget to pick her up today,”

“Today?” She usually picked Lizzie up from school, being the owner of a quaint little cafe, Winter Bakery, giving her the flexibility in schedule to do so. He had work to do and he was gonna meet up with Celeste around that time. The immediate thought of the woman he was seeing brought shame and guilt to his conscience, making him lash out at her.

“I can’t, you know I have work,” he said a little too accusingly.

Y/N just closed her eyes and exhaled harshly, trying to reign in her control.

“Daddy, don’t you want to pick me up?” Lizzie asked sadly and Bucky felt all his anger vanish as he saw his little girl’s fallen face.

“Of course not, sweetie, I just--”

“Bucky, we’ve been through this, I’m trying to land this catering gig for Stark, remember?” Y/N’s defeated voice rose above his and he immediately felt sorry, god, he was the worst husband.

Sure, it was just a little get together for the birthday of Tony Stark’s daughter but it was a big deal to Y/N. She had met Pepper in Lizzie’s school as they waited for their pre-schoolers to be dismissed and instantly became friends. At first, Y/N was starstruck with Pepper especially when she discovered that she was a hands-on mom, while running Stark Industries at the same time but she was such a down-to-earth woman matched with a witty sense of humor that it was hard to lose any topic of conversation with her. Of course, it helped that Lizzie and Morgan had become the best of friends even on just the first day of school. Next thing they knew, they were spending play dates at the bakery when the girls insisted on hanging out. That’s when Pepper discovered Y/N’s cupcakes and raved to Tony that, “they were absolutely the best she’s ever had”. Of course with Tony being Tony, wanting only the best for his daughter, set up a taste test meeting for his daughter’s birthday, insisting on trying every single flavor of cake and cupcake she could make, and not just a take-out of the best sellers, like Pepper had suggested. They weren’t just going to settle for the best sellers like some sheep following the herd. “His words, not mine” Pepper had said and having the Tony Stark to be Y/N’s first customer for her first ever catering gig would mean a lot for her business. Only recently has she decided to expand it and she felt like she’s talked Bucky’s ears off with her plans and here he was, seemingly having forgotten the day she’s most talked about. She wasn’t even angry with him, she was just disappointed and not even a little bit surprised.

“Oh shit, babe, I’m sorry I forgot,” Bucky immediately went to her and enveloped her in a hug and she hated herself for loving the feel of his arms around her.

“Promise, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered but she didn’t believe him, she was over his empty promises.

“Just pick Lizzie up,” She said before she left the door with not a glance back.

Part 2

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel angst #marvel x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagines #steve rogers x reader #betrayal

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ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

Text

1:32 AM [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of angst

warning(s): descriptions of catastrophic thinking/anxiety, brief mentions of death, swearing

word count: 2.5k

overview: when hirugami’s old habits of rumination come back to haunt him, there’s only one person who can bring him peace

By the time it’s 1:32 AM, Hirugami has spent no less than a half hour staring at the digitized numbers of the alarm clock cutting through the darkness, watching the precious seconds and minutes of sleep tick away before his eyes. A strange haze hangs over him, and it’s as if his ears have been stuffed with cotton, amplifying all the thoughts pounding against his skull. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence in his head, during which he can hear the leaves whispering in the breeze outside of his window, and he thinks he’s finally falling asleep, but the quietude is painfully temporary.

With a heavy sigh, he turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling, giving his thoughts a moment to surface individually, like bubbles rising to meet the daylight shining down on a body of water.

When will what I do ever be enough?

Did I really choose the right path in life?

Would I still feel this way if my life had played out differently?

When will these thoughts stop?

Rumination is nothing new to him. Despite being able to keep the habit tucked away for a majority of his high school years with both yours and Hoshiumi’s help, he finds that it often comes back to haunt him at the most unexpected times. His week at work had been as smooth as it could be given he was a busy veterinarian, yet he’d felt a knot of something—uncertainty?—forming within him over the course of the past few days. Where it had originated from he had no clue, but it was proving to be a formidable opponent now, in the late hours of the evening while the rest of the neighborhood slept.

The journal on his bedside table catches his attention, and as much as he knows he should take a moment to pen down his troubles in an attempt to put them to rest, his hands feel too heavy to move. Just making the simple trip from his chest to the table feels like the most effortful task in the universe. He does, however, find the strength and motivation to reach for his phone lying beside him where he’d tossed it in agony after realizing he was using it far too long after bedtime.

His eyelids instinctively narrow at the sudden influx of light that spills onto his face from the screen when he turns it on, even though the brightness is at its lowest setting. Lazy drags of his fingertips find him face to face with your smiling contact photo, and sluggish taps compose a more to-the-point text message than he usually sends asking if you’re still awake. Gray dots appearing, then promptly disappearing along the bottom of his screen proves that you are—and in an instant, he’s answering a call from you.

“What’s up, Sachi?” you ask, voice more chipper than he’d expect at this hour.

“Nothin’ much,” he lies with a yawn. Hearing his voice weighted so heavily with fatigue makes your heart sink in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He can hear rustling through the phone as you readjust the blankets ensconcing you to pull them up to your shoulders again. Gazing at your glowing computer screen, you respond, “Just watching a movie,” before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Just having trouble getting to sleep, is all,” he explains, the words leaving his mouth in another exasperated groan, “So, I thought I’d talk to my favorite person if she was still awake.”

Jokingly, you comment, “I won’t tell Kourai you said that, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Thanks.”

A comfortable moment of silence passes, during which you shuffle your feet beneath the covers to warm them up and he allows his eyelids to flutter shut so he can focus his full attention on the sound of your voice when you speak again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, (f/n)?”

“Of what, baby?”

“Of listening to me talk myself in circles when I’m like this and hearing about the same issues over and over again?”

Though there’s a hint of irritation laced in his tone, you know it’s directed at himself rather than at you. “Sachi, you can talk about whatever you want as much as you want. I know how much you keep to yourself, so it’s okay. I just want to help, since I know how exhausting it must be for you to deal with.” There’s a short pause, and you know from experience that his mind is most likely distorting your words, forming them into daggers he sinks into his own heart. “I promise, it’s okay to talk to me about it. Trust me.”

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and agrees, “Okay.”

Pursing your lips, you glance around the darkness of your room until your eyes settle on the bag you’d already packed, ready to take to his house for your scheduled weekend visits. “Would it help if you could see my face?” you wonder, your mouth curling up into a small grin regardless of the fact that he can’t see it.

“Well,” he hums, dragging his long fingers through his chestnut brown hair, “you know I’d never turn down the opportunity to see my gorgeous girlfriend, but you’ll have to give me a minute to touch up my makeup.”

With a snicker, you retort, “You’ll have plenty of time to pull yourself together if I just come over instead.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sweetheart. Not at this ungodly hour.”

“And you didn’t,” you reaffirm, “but I want to, so, will you let me visit a whole—” you interrupt yourself to check the time before continuing—“eight and a half hours earlier than we’d originally planned?”

“I would love that,” is his answer given without hesitation despite his initial, intrusive thought of being burdensome to you by allowing you to drive over so early in the morning.

And even though he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral of negative ideas swirling around him like the raging waters of a whirlpool, he doesn’t regret accepting your invitation when you arrive about twenty minutes later. Upon opening the door to your car for you, he’s greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close for a tight hug that instantly engulfs him in a warm feeling of comfort that he can’t liken to anything else he’s ever felt before from anyone else. He holds your body flush against his—even after he’s felt your grip loosen in a signal to pull away that then tightens once more at realizing he’s not quite finished yet—and acknowledges the guilt that suddenly rises within him.

How could I ever want to know how things could’ve been different when I have her?

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers, craning his neck to press a kiss to yours before finally releasing you and slinging your bag over his shoulder. The wave of cold air that rushes between your bodies at their separation nearly makes you reach for him again, but you settle for latching onto his hand instead while the two of you make your way up to his apartment. “You made it here in record time, speed racer.”

Chuckling, you joke, “Drove like I was answering a booty call.”

“I’m truly flattered.”

The gentle smile across his lips has your heart skipping a beat in your chest but doesn’t hide the fatigue clearly present on his handsome features. His hand on your back gently ushers you inside the familiar warmth of his home when he unlocks the door, and you make a beeline to his bedroom once you’ve kicked off your shoes. A look of amusement glimmers in his eyes at how quickly you settle yourself down in his bed and bury yourself under his comforter and blankets.

As he climbs into bed beside you, your hands move to the sides of his face to pull him towards you for a gentle kiss. “What’s going on, Sachi?” you murmur after your lips part. He sits on the mattress beside you, and the sinking of the bed naturally draws you closer to one another until your arms are wrapped around his torso and his draped over your shoulders.

“Just the usual,” he sighs, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fabric of your sweater, “You know, the whole wondering if I’ve done everything right bit. My mind just loves reminding me of my mistakes and going through how I could’ve handled things differently, even if the thing in question happened, like, five years ago.”

You hum understandingly and nod, focusing on his words to keep yourself awake—which is a challenge when his body feels like a lullaby.

“I’m still hung up over that dog we couldn’t save last month. Every day, I find myself thinking of the moment when his heartbeat just… stopped. And the look in his owner’s eyes when I told her he hadn’t made it. And I just wonder, what could I have done differently to keep him alive?”

He swallows thickly and breathes out a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And I replay the arguments I’ve had with people—and with you—in my head, wondering what I could’ve done to prevent them. But I know that hindsight’s twenty-twenty and that if I’d have known the answer or what was to come beforehand then it never would’ve happened to begin with. It’s so frustrating because I know this, I’ve been able to accept mistakes and let them go, yet I still beat myself up really badly over things every now and then.”

Moving away from him slightly so you can look up at him, into his weary but kind and welcoming gaze, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a small smile. “Baby,” you say with an affectionate squeeze to his muscles, “these shoulders of yours are so strong, but they’re meant for carrying backpacks, me when I want a piggyback ride, or any kids we may or may not have in the future; not the weight of the world.”

He tilts his head to the side so he can lower his cheek onto one of your hands, spreading heat across your skin. With the way he’s watching you so intently, you can tell how much he values your words as well as the fact that you’re here, sitting in front of him instead of gazing at him through a screen.

Slowly, speaking as the thoughts enter your mind, you assure him, “It’s okay to fuck up. How would we learn if we didn’t?” You stroke his cheek with your thumb before your fingers move to his head of waves tousled haphazardly from whatever restless sleep he’d been able to get.

“Just remind yourself of the way you usually deal with mistakes. Acknowledge them, say yeah, that happened, and it sucked ass, but I’ll do better next time, and let go of them. I mean, I know it’s way, way easier said than done, but you’re really good at it. Remember all those times in high school I came to you, freaking out over the smallest things that I’d done? Who am I kidding? I still do that; but, anyway, it’s always been you who’s helped me. Give yourself the same permission to mess up.”

Your boyfriend of many years heaves a deep sigh as he lets the truth of your statements pass through his internal filter that does a fine job, unfortunately, in this case, of sifting through only the ideas he wants to believe. Though they’re met with initial resistance that only manifests as a defense mechanism, all your words manage to remain after the process like the smallest pieces of gold hidden amongst layers and layers of sediment.

Taking your hand in his, you tell him, “There aren’t really any right or wrong decisions, and I know you know that. They’re just choices you make. Mistakes are gonna happen no matter what, but you’re gonna be okay. I know you, Hirugami Sachirou, and I know how strong and determined you are. You can do what you set your mind to and with that smile on your face some people find annoying—” the grin in question appears on his lips, making you laugh—“Yeah, that one. So, get it into that big brain of yours that you’re doing your best or I’ll have to rough you up a bit.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“As you should be.”

In an instant, the heavy layers of worry that had restricted him before unravel at your definitive statement, and he’s laughing while he pulls you into his arms once more. As always, his laughter is contagious, and it’s not long before you’re doing the same, body shaking against his. “Don’t unleash your wrath on me, baby; I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow,” he concedes with a teasing tone, a yawn whisking some of his words away.

“We have a deal,” you chirp, “Now, let’s go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime, gramps.”

He complains, “You callin’ me old?” as your bodies sink down onto the soft mattress, his head pausing in its natural course towards your chest so it can hover above yours. “’Cause I found more gray hairs than I’d like to admit when I was doing my hair yesterday, so I’m actually really self-conscious about it.”

Sticking out your lower lip in a sympathetic pout, you comment, “I said you were old, but I didn’t say that you weren’t hot.”

“So, I’ve still got it, huh?”

“You’re basically a silver fox.”

A soft hum of contentment rumbles against your lips when he presses his to them to shower you with a few, affectionate kisses. Eventually, he pulls away and pecks your chin on his way to your neck, where he nestles his head as your arms readjust to accommodate his body coming to rest against yours. “Thanks, (f/n),” he mumbles, voice suddenly heavy and lethargic compared to how it had been moments earlier, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Your fingers card through his hair softly as he takes a deep breath and slides his palm along the back of your thigh to coax it around his waist so he can move his body even closer to yours. While the two of you lie together, surrounded in warmth, feeling the gentle beating of each other’s hearts against your bodies, Hirugami finds he has nothing left to worry about—no thoughts left to disturb him. And, because his mind is finally quiet and still, the ruminating beast within him quelled by your honest words and gentle touch, sleep finally comes just as easily to him as loving you does.

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#haikyuu x reader #hirugami x reader #x reader #reader insert #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hirugami sachirou x reader #fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi//wnf

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 5

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

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

Saturday morning dawned cold and bright but you hardly felt rested. You’d spent the better part of the night trying to squash your panic, curled up under your duvet with your phone in your hand, convinced that the second you closed your eyes something terrible would happen. The facts of the case bounced around in your mind like wasps, angry and frantic, trying their best to get out, but it was no use. You simply had to accept it, someone you worked with was stalking you. They were stalking you and murdering innocent people in some sick attempt to fulfil the fantasy in their mind, and that put everyone in your life at risk.

You’d realized it the night before and the thought alone made you feel sick. Stalkers were, by nature, unpredictable so there was no way for you to know which of your friends would be a target. The stalker could see any of them as a threat and decide to take matters into his own hands. Your only comfort came in knowing that your parents were on a cruise near New Zealand, and all your friends were safe under Rossi’s roof. For now.

You sighed and forced yourself out of bed, pulling on the most comfortable set of clothing you had and shuffling downstairs. As you made your way into the kitchen you were met by a sea of friendly faces and your spirits lifted slightly.

“Morning, Sunshine,” JJ greeted sympathetically, “we were wondering when you’d be up.”

“What time is it?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from her gratefully.

“8:17,” Spencer answered, giving you a small smile.

You smiled back and looked around, doing a mental headcount of all the faces at Rossi’s kitchen island, “Where are Morgan and Prentiss?”

“Morgan went to meet the M.E.,” JJ answered, slinging a protective arm over your shoulder, “and Em-“

“She’s still in her room,” Garcia cut in, pushing a cupcake on a plate towards you, “she’s awake but she won’t come down.”

You frowned and looked at JJ for clarification. JJ sighed and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“She’s-uh-she’s taking this whole thing pretty hard,” she admitted softly, “she doesn’t want to admit it, but you know how she is.”

You nodded, “I’ll talk to her,” you said, pushing yourself away from the kitchen island and pouring a second cup of coffee.

You trudged up the stairs, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids with every step. Emily’s room was next to Morgan’s and, before knocking, you just took a minute to watch. Emily was sitting on her bed with her back towards the door, staring intensely at something in her lap that you couldn’t see and your heart dropped.

———————————

Your stomach hurt from laughing so much as you watched the man Emily had brought over scamper off with his tail between his legs. Some real life FBI agent he’d turned out to be.

“That. Was. Brilliant,” you laughed, jostling her with your shoulder, “you, Emily Prentiss, are brilliant.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled, “god sometimes it’s too easy. It’s just too easy with these guys. What, do they think we’re stupid or something?”

It was girl’s night. The first you’d had in months and, quite frankly, you needed it. Your workload was killing you, and the weight of all the death you saw on the regular was making it difficult to find joy in anything anymore. Which was why you had your girls. Emily had dragged you all out to a local bar and plied you with alcohol until you were laughing and giggling like a bunch of preteens at a sleepover. It was wonderful, and you could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each passing minute.

“Almost definitely,” you agreed, taking another deep swig from whatever drink Emily had forced on you.

“Or they at least think we’re stupider than them,” JJ clarified.

Emily made a noise of agreement and rolled her eyes, “Which is why I personally have no interest in dating them.”

“Not that we could even if we wanted to,” Garcia pointed out, “I mean, who has time to date with this job?”

“Not me,” you said, “I haven’t been on an actual date in ages.”

“Well I’m sure we can find someone who’d be willing to take you out, Y/N,” Emily teased with faux innocence, “let’s think, ladies; who do we know who’s smart and funny, with a similar work schedule, who Y/N might be attracted to and who already thinks she’s wonderful?”

“Hmm,” JJ played along, “ooo that’s a tough one.”

“I’m stumped,” Garcia agreed, “oh wait! Here’s a crazy idea, what about Reid?”

JJ and Emily gasped, clutching their chests with looks of surprise so melodramatic that you couldn’t help but laugh, despite your embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Reid!” Emily agreed, “It’s perfect, Penelope Garcia you are a genius.”

“But wait, Y/N swears she’s not into him like that, guys, remember?” JJ joked.

“Ooohhh,” Emily and Garcia chorused.

“Well, I guess it’s hopeless then,” Emily joked, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you’re stuck with me, Y/L/N.”

You smiled and kissed her back, leaving a lipstick smudge on her pale cheek, “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Prentiss. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Garcia clapped her hands together in excitement and pulled out a camera, “Everybody say BAU!”

“BAU!” You all cheered in unison, collapsing into laughter the moment the flash went off.

—————————————

“Hey, you,” you greeted, “you not coming down for breakfast?”

Emily’s head snapped up and you caught a glimpse of the photograph in her hands. It was the one from that girls night, one of the last you’d ever had at the BAU. Not that anyone had known that at the time. You could see the resentment in her eyes, and the pain and you felt a sharp stab of guilt for everything you were putting your friends through.

“Garcia’s bought those cupcakes last night, they’re really tasty.” You continued, stepping hesitantly inside, “I could fetch you one if you’d like.”

“I’m not hungry,” she replied simply, “but I’ll take the coffee if you’re giving.”

You smiled and handed Emily the cup, taking a seat beside her on the bed. For a moment you just sat in silence, drinking your coffee together and thinking, but eventually the silence had to break.

“Em I know you’re mad-“ you started.

“Mad?” She interrupted with an incredulous laugh, “Y/N I’m not mad.”

“Yes. You are,” you insisted, “you have been ever since I came back to the unit. I mean, come on, you made me share a desk with Reid so that your purse had its own spot.”

Emily sighed and stared down into her cup, tapping her manicured nails against the ceramic, “Okay maybe I was a little bit mad,” she agreed, “but can you blame me? You left without saying goodbye!”

“I said goodbye!”

Emily rolled her eyes, “Not properly. You never really explained why. One day everything was fine and the next you’d handed in your resignation. It sucked, and I was mad,” she sighed, shaking her head, “and then I blinked and suddenly it’s a year later.”

“Time flies.” You agreed.

“Yeah! Yeah and a year later you still couldn’t tell me you hadn’t actually resigned?” She probed, “How’s that supposed to make me feel? I’ve been walking around like some sort of idiot thinking that you’re gone for good.”

You nodded and nudged her shoulder with yours, deciding to ignore the ‘gone for good’ comment and focus on everything else, “Well, hey, let’s make a deal. After all this is over, we’ll meet up at your tombstone and you can yell at me all you like for keeping you in the dark, deal?”

Emily snorted and you felt the tension lift, “Okay, point taken.” she chuckled. You hummed your agreement and you lapsed back into comfortable silence before Emily continued, “But hey, the desk thing worked out great. You and Spencer seem to be getting along again.”

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment, giving Emily the ammunition she needed to start teasing you mercilessly. It was nice, and familiar and it made you feel grounded in a way you didn’t realize you were missing before.

“You’re so predictable,” she laughed, “making sad puppy dog eyes at each other from across the room all day.”

You shoved her over, which she responded to with an indignant yelp.

“Yeah well, unfortunately we’ve got more to worry about than my abysmal love life,” you reminded Emily, “so will you please come back downstairs with me?”

You stood and extended your hand, which Emily took with a soft smile, letting you pull her to her feet.

“Okay, agent Y/L/N, but only because I’m hungry and I don’t want JJ to eat my cupcake.”

“Mmhmm,” you agreed sarcastically, threading your fingers together as Emily tucked the well worn photo back into her pants pocket.

She must’ve brought it with her from home, you realized with a start. She’d dragged that photo with her all this time.

It made your heart swell and you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Hey, Prentiss?”

“Yeah, Y/L/N?”

“It’s still you and me, you know? You’re still stuck with me.”

She stopped, a soft smile creeping onto her face as her dark eyes softened. For a moment you just looked at one another, really seeing the person in front of you for the first time in a year. Then she squeezed your hand and you kept moving.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know that, you sap.”

———————————

The rest of the weekend was as close to bliss as Spencer could imagine while working a potentially catastrophic stalker case. He didn’t know what had happened while you were upstairs talking to Emily, it wasn’t his place, but he knew that you looked happy when you came back down. Emily looked happy too and, when she took a seat beside him, she shot him a knowing wink, which made him blush.

After that, the team was back. Morgan had confirmed with the M.E that the newest victim hadn’t been drugged, and he had indeed been tortured before he was killed. He’d also confirmed that the contents of the victim’s stomach was another grizzly message from the killer; tandoori chicken and sparkling wine, the exact meal you always ordered at the little restaurant you went to after a long case. Everyone had gotten eerily quiet when that came out. But you moved on, going through case files and reports together in the hopes of coming across some common name. It was a fairly thankless task. The only plus side was how much time Spencer got to spend with you, reading files, pouring coffee, just talking in the garden during lunch. Spencer was giddy with it, and Emily noticed.

“Real subtle, Lover Boy,” she teased on Sunday night, as Spencer watched you disappear back into the house for a drink.

He flushed and looked away, “What-uh-I don’t know what you mean.”

Emily rolled her eyes but smiled fondly, collapsing into the outdoor couch next to Spencer, “Sure.”

Just then you’d walked back out, and Emily let the matter drop for the time being. By the time Monday morning rolled in, Spencer finally felt like they had a handle on things. The picture was still murky and undefined, but now they could at least grasp its edges and make out its overall shape. The team had a long way to go, but it was something, and they’d managed to get by with less in the past. Coming in separately had been Hotch’s idea. It was likely that the UnSub was watching the team and coming in together would tip him off to the fact that work was being done outside of the office. Secrecy was their biggest weapon right now, Hotch had reminded them, secrecy and surprise. The UnSub couldn’t know what they knew. Not now, not ever. It was essential to the investigation.

Spencer remembered looking over at you when Hotch said that. He remembered the way you’d looked, the nerves and anger bubbling underneath your calm demeanor, and the way that his resolve had hardened.

“So what have we got?” Morgan had asked, “Officially, I mean.”

Hotch pressed his lips together, “White male, late twenties to mid thirties,” he’d explained, “try and float the idea that we’re looking into an ex boyfriend from high school or college. Anything we can do to throw him off.”

Spencer repeated it to himself like a mantra as he walked through the FBI building and stepped onto the elevator, bound for the sixth floor. As more agents piled in, the hairs on the back of Spencer’s neck stood up and his anxiety spiked. Is it you? A voice in his head whispered as he glanced at the dark haired man from Sex Crimes. Or you? He wondered, as a sandy haired agent with a long scar met his eye. Is it any of you? The doors finally opened on his floor and Spencer practically leapt out, forcing himself not to look back and keep his pace as normal as possible as he pushed open the doors to the BAU.

Spencer was the last to arrive, just as planned and, because of that, you’d already taken your space at his desk. The sight of you looking totally at home surrounded by his books and files made Spencer unreasonably happy and his nerves settled. Or at least, they did until he noticed the particularly devilish look in Emily’s eye, and the lack of a second chair at his desk.

“Emily, where’s my chair?” He asked.

She shrugged, “How should I know?”

You looked up at the noise and smiled at Spencer, making his heart leap into his throat.

“Sorry, Spence, there was only one when I arrived. I looked all over the office but the other one seems to have just vanished,” you explained, pushing yourself away from the desk, “you take this one, I’ll stand.”

Spencer sighed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N, sit down. I’m fine with standing.”

“No, Spencer. I’m already taking up half your desk space. I’m not stealing your chair as well. Sit down.” You frowned.

“Y/N-“

“Spencer.”

“Or,” Emily interjected, with faux innocence, “you could just share the chair.”

You both froze, staring at Emily like she’d just grown a second head.

“Come again?” You asked.

“The chair,” she repeated, resting her chin on her hand, “you could just share it. Instead of arguing and wasting valuable time.” She shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “Just a thought.”

If looks could kill, Emily Prentiss would be dead. Spencer was considering pouring a bottle of water over her head when he caught your eye and blushed bright red. He hated how easy it was for you to undo him, how quickly he became completely obvious about his feelings towards you.

“We-we can’t share,” you stuttered.

“Why not?” Emily asked.

“Because!” You protested, “Spence is a germaphobe. He’d be uncomfortable sharing with me.”

“I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable,” he said without thinking, “not with you.”

You paused, surveilling him with a kind of softness in your eye that made his stomach all fluttery and weak. Emily watched the exchange with amusement, but didn’t interrupt, just waiting to see what happened as you and Spencer sized one another up.

“Okay then,” you agreed, “let’s...share. Somehow.”

Spencer fiddled with the strap of his satchel, but breathed an inward sigh of relief as the tension passed. The office chair Emily had left you with was a big one, and Spencer didn’t exactly take up a lot of space, but it was still tight. There was no getting away from casual touches, the pressure of your leg against his, the smell of your perfume clinging to your hair when it brushed by him, the low roll of your voice as you hummed along with the song in your head. Almost all of his senses were suddenly filled with you instead of empty space. The whole thing made his brain short-circuit. Maybe he hadn’t thought this completely through. As you read through a case file, Spencer caught Emily’s eye across the desk and mouthed ‘I hate you’ at her while you weren’t looking.

“You’re welcome,” she mouthed back, shooting him a wink as she turned back to her laptop.

You shifted in your seat, sending another rush of scent through Spencer’s nose.

“Is that-” he started, “are you wearing a different perfume than normal?”

You met his eye, a little confused, but played along, “It’s new, yeah. I bought it just over a week ago but it hasn’t been warm enough to wear it, why?”

“I’ve smelled it somewhere before,” he explained, riffling through the evidence box he kept on his desk until he found the right bag. He was acutely aware of your eyes on him as he sliced through the seal, reached in with a glove between his fingers and pulled out the letter that had been left at your apartment. He inhaled, filling his nose with the familiar scent, and his stomach dropped, “I knew it. Here, smell.”

You followed his lead and Spencer watched your eyes widen with horror when you confirmed his theory, “Oh my god, he scented the paper.”

“With a perfume you hadn’t even worn yet.” he continued.

“Which means he had to have known that I’d bought it, and that I’d intended to start wearing it soon,” you followed, “which means he must have been following me that day.”

“And if he was, there’s a chance one of the stores has him on camera. Do you remember when and where you bought it?”

“I do.”

“Get that information to Garcia, we’ll have to talk to the store owners before they erase the tapes, and then she can track your movements and see if anyone’s a little too close for comfort.” he said.

Your eyes lit up with that intelligent sparkle that Spencer had always loved, the one you got in the moments when a case finally started to seem solvable.

“Spencer Reid, you are the key to everything, aren’t you?” you teased.

He opened his mouth to respond, his cheeks already flushing bright red, when Hotch’s door opened and their team leader stepped out, a stony expression on his face.

“Alright everybody,” Hotch’s voice boomed through the bullpen, “briefing room now please. We’ve got a case.”

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

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lambourngb · 4 years ago

Text

This Hard Truth

Fic prompt: “Are you drunk?”

THIS HARD TRUTH picks up immediately after THIS HARD LIE, an AU that explores the changes to Roswell and Michael if Alex had decided to tell the Air Force to go pound sand. It’s not all roses. Also folks, not sure if I’ve said, but I’ve been writing these each day literally from scratch off an old vague outline I abandoned a year ago, and today’s the first one that I’ve struggled with, so there’s your warning. Once Michael Guerin Week is over, this is going to a beta and will find a home on AO3. Thank you for loving the raw story.

****

The solid black Range Rover parked in front of his Airstream didn’t surprise Michael in the least.

It had been three days since Jesse Manes had succumbed to his terminal cancer diagnosis, those final days silent under a steady morphine drip. The doctors were correct with their less than a month pronouncement which had left Michael with the uncomfortable position of hoping that Jesse was going to defy those odds. It was a win-win of extended suffering for a man who had earned that and it would have kept Alex in Roswell longer.

He had seen Alex exactly seven times since that first night at the Wild Pony, all of them casual spontaneous encounters that became less spontaneous after he’d learned the nursing rotation of Manes brothers and home care staff. He’d shuffled his jobs at the garage to leave openings in schedule and stopped eating at home during the nights he knew Alex would be free, emptying out his dining out jar.

This was a species thing, he had reminded himself as a curl of guilt had started to squirm inside him at the level of low-key stalking he had done to see his ex. Between Max’s somber admission that he still could remember in crystal-clear detail the day Liz Ortecho touched his lip almost eight years ago in high school and the reaction one of Michael’s attempts at dating had to his story of showing up on Alex’s doorstep two years after a breakup with no warning, well he was aware this wasn’t a normal intensity. The date with wide eyes picking up their phone, even though it hadn’t made a noise, saying, “You seem like a nice guy, but I need to take this call, it’s probably work, we can try again some other time-”

That was the proper reaction to his story he learned, not nodding sagely like Max had and encouraging him to go in the first place.

Humans couldn’t calculate within a minute the amount of time they had recently spent with someone the way Michael could. It was a full commitment of energy to stay carefully friendly with Alex, to keep his alien focus under wraps even though he probably tipped his cards that day in Nashville. On his good days he told himself that Alex hadn’t called the cops on him because he’d been happy to see Michael and on his bad days, it was because he didn’t want the press.

With Jesse Manes dead, Alex’s reasons for staying in Roswell were over. It was time to say goodbye to this small interlude of where Michael felt completely himself, brimming in mitochondrial buoyancy with every cell alive and sparking. Back to the cards of Hallmark blandness and the short notes of congratulations after a song does well.

Alex looked up from his casual sprawl in the lawn chair, his phone in hand, and smiled at Michael’s approach, “thought I might return the favor, and show up at your door unannounced. I gotta say, an Airstream at Sanders’ was not what I was expecting as Casa de Guerin.”

Suddenly aware of the dark stain of dirt staining his cuticles, Michael shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to him. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of the divide, from the shiny Range Rover Sport to the smooth manicure and high-end clothing that wrapped Alex’s frame. “What did you expect then, bedroll in my truck again?”

“Whoa,” Alex stood up, pocketing his phone to hold his hands up harmlessly. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean, I was referring to the doctor boyfriend you’ve got. Most doctors I’ve met are about the trappings, it looks like you found a good one that likes you as you.” Alex’s smile wavered, “I’m happy for you.”

Now even more off-balanced, Michael sputtered, “wait, I don’t-”

“I’m less happy it’s Kyle Valenti, but I guess it’s possible he’s changed, or received a personality transplant-”

“Holy shit who have you been talking to?” He finally cut in, looking over his shoulder back to the office at the auto yard, half expecting to see Isobel being helpful. She had never quite forgiven Alex for finding happiness in Nashville, and it would be just like her to spin a version of events to make Alex jealous. As if that was possible, even in a universe where Michael was capable of being a Stepford boyfriend worthy of a doctor, nothing compares to the life Alex has built without him. Not even zero-percent body fat doctors who did know quite a bit of anatomy. The mention of Kyle did remind Michael that he hadn’t heard very much from him since that last night shortly before Alex had rolled into town. “We’ve seen each other a few times now, Alex, I would have told you if I had a boyfriend. Anyway, Kyle has changed, but he’s not- we’re weirdly enough friends.”

A pang of longing shot through him at seeing Alex arch his eyebrow at him in judgment. “That is not what Maria says, or Arturo, or Old Man Sanders for that matter.”

“Well, they are wrong.” Michael said firmly, stepping around Alex leaving a careful amount of space as he flipped open the lid of his cooler for a beer. “It’s not like that okay? I don’t have a Dennis and a dog in my life, it’s casual and fun but nothing more.”

“I wish I was sad about hearing that, but I’m not.”

Michael paused in the middle of popping the cap off his bottle, “Wow, thank you.” That stung more than he was expecting to hear that Alex was happy he was alone. Fame and fortune really did change people. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “Listen, I’ve loved seeing you Alex, and the less said about your dad the better, so thanks for coming by to say goodbye and eh, enjoy Nashville,” he grabbed the knob on his Airstream door to flee.

A hand covered his, keeping the door firmly closed against the frame. Michael cursed his species for the thousandth time as the touch sent waves of weakness through him. Alex leaned in close, too close for just friendly words, “Wait, that came out wrong.”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” Alex stated firmly. He held onto Michael’s hand, stepping into the space between them to block the retreat into the Airstream. This was the closest they had been to one another in four years, not since that last fight the morning before Alex’s flight east that ended with fucking on a bare mattress after Michael had packed their sheets for Alex to take. “Coming back here, seeing everyone, um, seeing you, it reminded me of who I was before I became this guy,” he gestured at his clothes and back toward the expensive car vaguely. “I’ve got all these things now, useless things, that when I look in the mirror, I see my dad, a guy who cared more about a uniform than he did his own kids.”

“Alex, you could never be him, I don’t care if you become more famous than McCartney, it’s just not possible.”

Whatever Alex saw on his face made him shake his head gently in response, “I don’t get it, you still look at me like you did when we were dumb kids surviving on ramen, like nothing’s changed at all.”

“Nothing has changed for me,” Michael insisted firmly, bringing the open and almost forgotten beer to his lips. A merger shield to employ. It was pretty clear that nothing ever would and that was his reality. It was as true now as it was when he had borrowed a guitar from the music room at seventeen. “But you knew that already, that’s why we broke up, remember? Things were changin’ for you, you were goin’ to bigger places than Roswell, and that’s a good thing. A great thing even.”

“I know. You should know that I’m not going back to Tennessee right now, Michael.”

“What?”

“There’s no Dennis, I mean, not anymore. That kinda fizzled out after your visit, and the dog was his,” Alex kept his hand over Michael’s, slowly moving it up to circle his fingers around his wrist, “I do miss the dog, she was sweet.”

“Your house-” Michael started, his pulse back to pounding senselessly in his ears.

“That was mine but I sublet it to a guy I know who’s doing session work at the studio while I was here. I just let him convert the sublet into a lease.”

“And your agent?”

“Dealing with the fact I’m taking my first sabbatical in four years,” Alex finished smoothly, an answer ready for every disbelieving question that Michael could muster about his house and life. He took a step back, as if he was suddenly aware of how he had crowded him against the warm metal door of the Airstream.

There was just one question left to ask though, as Michael studied Alex’s face intently. The transparent way his eyes kept flickering from the beer bottle against Michael’s mouth and then away. “If you’re not here to say goodbye to me, then why are you here?” he asked challengingly, raising his beer back to his mouth to finish with a full lipped suggestive swallow.

Gauntlet dropped and accepted as Alex surged forward to press Michael against the door and kiss him. The glass bottle dropped uselessly to the ground, glancing off the metal steps as Michael reached behind him to turn the knob quickly. He stepped backward, letting Alex crowd him through the doorway, chasing his mouth hungrily.

The metal door slapped hard against the door jamb, as Michael fell back on his mattress.

Alex gulped audibly for air from the break, pulling back to tug off his v-neck shirt over his head and then stilled as he took in the state of Michael’s small bed. His eyes widened, scrutinizing the setup and Michael had to look away in embarrassment, knowing exactly what Alex had just recognized. “You goddamn liar! When I said I didn’t want our sheets to take with me, you said you were going to burn them!”

“Yeah, well, it seemed wasteful.”

Michael leaned back on the thin mattress, ripping his own shirt off to toss carelessly on the floor. He watched as Alex reached down to unbutton his pants. The yellow light from the trailer window brushed a gold glow of Alex’s half naked torso. He drank in the small, subtle changes in Alex’s body, like the corded strength in his torso that spoke of some sort of workout. Probably yoga or dancing maybe. The playful outrage on Alex’s face slowly changed over to a dawning realization as he took in the details of the small and cramped surroundings.

This was why Michael never brought anyone back here. All around were the skeleton remains of that first apartment together. The same dishes in the tiny sink. The same cheap poster advertising Warp Tour was taped to the back of the wooden built-in dresser. The same stupid classic car clock that Alex had brought home, after Maria had bought the Wild Pony and upgraded the decor, all because the cars reminded him of Michael.

Everywhere in the Airstream was some piece of memorabilia from those three years together. It was as close to a shrine to their relationship that Michael could build without setting out candles and a full altar.

“Holy shit, you really do love me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael rubbed at the back of his head ruefully, before laying back to accept Alex’s warm weight over him. He closed his eyes as Alex kissed him, turning his head upward as those long, musician fingers tangled in his hair. Gasping softly, he confessed, “Never did figure out how to stop.”

“My dad was wrong, I mean, I knew he was- but he was so convinced that your species weren’t capable of it-” Alex stopped abruptly, aware almost immediately that Michael had gone rigid under him.

Dimly Michael realized that Alex was still talking but nothing registered after ‘your kind’. It was subterfuge earlier, when Alex joked that first night about his father being a lunatic lost in the ravages of a brain tumor. He believed Jesse, worse he seemed to know that Jesse was right, that Michael was different.

Cool palms cupped Michael’s face, pulling him away from his spiraling thoughts. Any hope of laughing off the response was gone with the serious look in Alex’s eyes. “Hey. I don’t care, okay? You are still the first person, hell the only person, I’ve ever loved completely. Where you came from doesn’t matter to me. I know who you are-”

“And you know what I am.”

“Yes.”

***

Michael stared up at the ceiling of his trailer not daring to look sideways at Alex, who was pressed as close he could get against Michael on the narrow bunk. After a soft acknowledgment that he knew that Michael wasn’t alone, that he’d figured out that Max and Isobel had to be the same even though his father had died believing only Michael was an alien, Michael told him everything.

The crash, the pod, the years in the system, the knowledge that he was different and the fear that came with that knowledge. The fact he has powers, that they all do. The joy he had in finding Max and Isobel again at eleven even though he didn’t trust why he felt that way toward them. Then the vow they had made for absolute secrecy. “Not even Noah knows about Isobel, and they’ve been married four years now.”

“And Max? He never told anyone either?”

“His partner knows Jenna Cameron but that wasn’t planned. They were driving back to the station after a long circuit patrol for speeders and got caught up rescuing some people from a flash flood. The Berrendo. Cam got hit by a tree branch, femoral artery, and yeah, Max healed her. No one saw him because it was a dark night, but healing leaves a handprint. Impossible to deny it.”

Alex ran his hand absently through Michael’s chest hair, soothing them both. “It was a relief when my dad had Flint show me the evidence.”

“A relief?” Michael joked weakly, his mouth twitching upward in the effort. “Low key worried now that learning I’m an alien was a relief to you.”

“I thought the novelty of being with me had worn off. I mean, my choice after telling the Air Force to fuck off was starving to death or splitting expenses with you for rent. I figured after 3 years, you were ready to move on, so you let me go.” Alex reached up to cover Michael’s mouth with his palm briefly. “I know how that sounds, but you have to understand, before you? No one had ever loved me. My mom left when I was eight. I mean, maybe my older brothers did for a bit when I was little and cute? At least until I was thirteen and my dad started singling me out. He would kick my ass in front of them, daring them to protest, and they didn’t. I didn’t even love me.”

“Alex,” Heartbreak was in every syllable. “I never wanted to let you go-”

“I know, I’m just saying, I could finally believe it when Flint handed me a piece of a 70-year-old spaceship.”

“Dropping in on you with no warning a couple of years ago wasn’t a clue?”

Alex pursed his lips together, and laid his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Honestly I had spent two years telling myself that you didn’t give a shit, and then when you showed up, I thought it was because I was making a name. All sorts of people come out of the woodwork when the first taste of fame comes along. Then you confused me, because you left and started sending me these terribly boring greeting cards.”

“Fuck off, I spent forever picking out those cards,” Michael protested with a laugh. “I was trying to show you that I had chill, that I wouldn’t boil a bunny or stalk your social media.”

“Well you succeeded, I did keep all your cards though. It might have been a factor for Dennis moving out,” Alex joked in return before sobering with a tired sigh, “but little did you know, the real stalkers here were my family. Ever since 1947, a Manes man has been tasked in protecting humanity from your kind, starting with my great-grandfather Harlan, and ending with my brother Flint.”

Michael echoed the sigh, tucking Alex closer to him. The idea of the government, especially the United States Military, believing in aliens was enough to send his pulse rattling upward with fear. Every fear made real.

“On the bright side, my dad is dead, so that’s one less Manes hunting you.”

“What’s the other side?”

“I thought my brother was in Germany except he’s been stateside for the last five years working with my dad. He’s a weapons expert, and he’s so important to the project that the military forwarded his mail to Germany for the proper postmarks.”

“Well fuck.”

***

The next day, Michael took a rare sick day from work and guided Alex out to the desert to the cave to show him the pods, where his story had begun according to his memory. Then it was Alex’s turn for show and tell, as he directed Michael to the abandoned air base.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get in, but Flint calls it Project Shepherd. It was Dad’s center of operations in Roswell. He tapped into all the traffic cameras and even planted one on the gate to Sanders’ Auto,” Alex explained as he stepped out of his Range Rover. “You fixing cars must have bored the shit out of him.”

Weeds and scrub grass covered the broken pavement of the air base, lending to the air of disuse. The huge metal hangers covered the expanse, the domed tin roofs punctuated the horizon like a scattered group of D’s. Michael scanned the surroundings, a feeling of disquiet and dread filling his veins. It was probably the height of foolishness to visit a top secret bunker with only the company of a musician as back up, even if he did have the last name of Manes.

A dark shadow caught his eye, and frowned as he realized that they weren’t the only ones on sight. A familiar dark blue BMW was parked off to the side, mostly hidden by a building named B unimaginatively. As he crossed the parking lot with Alex a step behind, skipping over the broken slabs of paving markers, he drew to a halt in front of an open door.

Michael started forward, but Alex slapped his hand over his arm to halt him, “you should let me go first-”

“What, no!”

“I’m human, what if there’s some sort of anti-alien trap down there?”

“And you’re human, so what makes you think you’ll trip it?” Michael shot back reasonably, shaking off Alex’s hold. “If there’s a trap, I’m the one with the lock pick in my brain, besides, I think I know who’s down there.”

“This is like every bad horror movie, Michael.”

But outside of that pronouncement, Alex let him take the lead down the stairs of the open bunker into the cool shadows of the underground facility. As expected, he made it down uneventfully and found exactly who he expected at the bottom, spinning around in a slow circle in a leather covered office chair.

“Did you know they’re selling a shirt at Planet 7 that says ‘I’ve been probed by an alien’? I should buy it, because I can wear it unironically,” Kyle greeted as Michael made it to the bottom of the staircase. He shut his mouth comically as he realized that Michael wasn’t alone, “Whoops, did I just blow your secret like I’ve blown you?”

In Michael’s experience with Kyle, working the almost-friends and all-benefits angle, he had seen him in a lot of states. Worn out from a long shift at the hospital, solemn because he’d lost a patient, giggly because of Michael’s tendency toward wild bedhead, horny strangely because of a good football game, and finally tipsy after a pair of IPAs. He had never seen Kyle in this state.

“Are you drunk?” Michael asked, disbelievingly even though there was a mostly empty bottle of bourbon on the long conference table, stretching along the width of the room under the fluorescent lights.

“I am very drunk. That is the only sane response to my dad, I mean my day, actually I had that right the first time, my dad.” Kyle nodded vigorously before looking over Michael’s shoulder, “Hi Alex Manes. I’m sorry I was a homophobic jackass in high school. I have really changed. Ask your ex. Or is it current? Am I the ex now? Are we both Michael’s ex? Exes? Fuck is that plural or possessive-”

“You are definitely an ex now,” Alex answered firmly.

“Holy shit you are wasted,” Michael shook his head, slightly amused in spite of the deep alarm he felt in finding Kyle Valenti deep in the command center of an alien hunting operation. It was hard to feel too afraid considering the words pouring from Kyle’s mouth unedited.

“Listen I changed myself okay? I did the hard work examining my privilege and my toxic masculinity. I did it because I like sucking dick, but also because my dad is a good person and I wanted to make him proud. But I was fucking wrong. Not about sucking dick, that’s great, but my dad, he’s not good, Michael, he is really not who I thought he was.” Kyle pronounced seriously with the heavy emphasis of the inebriated. He staggered over to a computer system to press a key, pulling up a surveillance camera of a nondescript building on the set of command monitors. “He runs an alien GITMO,” the outside image clicked over, showing a line of cells, including an image of an all-too familiar man, “And he had Jesse Manes killed by an alien.”

#mguerin20 #guerinweek20 #malex fic #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #au after the shed #the lost decade #oh yeah still got a bit of plot to wrap up #alex manes

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myonechicagoworld · 4 years ago

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – NAZDAROVYA! (S01E15)

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

Try not to move. You’re going to be all right.

You’re going to be fine.

[horn honking]

Gabby Dawson: Hey! Hey! Stop!

Stop!

[horn honking]

[tires screech]

Gabby Dawson: Gunshot wounds to the abdomen and left chest.

Exit under the arm caught the axillary artery.

Doctor: I’ll take over on pressure.

Gabby Dawson: He’s my brother. I’m going into the OR with you.

Doctor: Can’t do it. Now.

Got it. Somebody grab the monitor. Let’s get him down the

hall into four. Go, go, go.

cutscene

Nurse: He’s all cleaned up, daddy.

Kelly Severide: Oh, no, I’m not the… I’m not the… I’m…

Okay.

Oh, Oh.

Hey guy.

[baby coos]

Kelly Severide: Hey buds.

Leslie Shay: Daddy.

Kelly Severide: Hey bud.

[phone chimes & vibrates]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Dawson. What happened?

Oh baby.

Gabby Dawson: [crying] I don’t know.

[sobs]

cutscene

[door shuts]

Matt Casey: [exhales]

Nancy Casey: I’m not happy about our fight last night. It’s important

to me that we communicate.

Matt Casey: I agree.

Nancy Casey: I get the sense you weren’t too happy about me

going out with my friend Gary last night.

Matt Casey: It had nothing to do with… Gary. I was worried about

my mother violating her parole.

Nancy Casey: Fine [clears throat]

Agreed.

Can we… agree to trust each other? To discuss

things like two adults?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: I’m happy to hear it. Eat while they’re still warm.

[mug clanking]

Matt Casey: You know something? You’re right.

If we’re gonna live together, we need to get things out

in the open. So I’m gonna ask.

Why’d you do it?

Nancy Casey: Now you’re just being hurtful.

Matt Casey: No, I’m asking a question I need the answer to.

In 15 years, you never told me why. What made you go

over to dad’s?

Nancy Casey: You always do this!

- title -

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: He was really cagey [clears throat]

We were talking right before it happened.

Peter Mills: Listen, he’s… he’s lucky that you were there. Okay?

Gabby Dawson: Pete, it’s fine. She knows.

Leslie Shay: Is he out of ICU?

Gabby Dawson: No, not yet. I’m gonna go to the hospital after shift.

Leslie Shay: All right. I’ll go with you.

Matt Casey: Hey.

[door closes]

Matt Casey: I just heard. How is he?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, he lost a lot of blood, so they’re still doing

transfusions.

Matt Casey: [sighs] I’m so sorry. Your brother went so above and

beyond for me with the Voight thing. If there’s

anything I can do, just… let me know.

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Matt Casey: Uh, Chief wanted me to tell you there’s a police

detective here to see you in his office for some

follow-up questions.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Chief Boden: Dawson, come on in. This is Detective Ben Vikan from

Narcotics.

[door closes]

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Very sorry to hear about Antonio. We got

damn near every cop in this city out looking

for who shot him.

Gabby Dawson: Good to know.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Antonio was looking for the leader of the

crew that’s been putting out the bad drugs.

He talked to you about that? ‘Cause I know

you had a conversation with him right

before he was shot.

Gabby Dawson: He said that guys from Narcotics were being

territorial and didn’t want a guy from Vice taking

his collars, so he was doing twice the work.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): [chuckles] Let’s have an honest

conversation.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your brother went way off the reservation

on this one.

Chief Boden: You told me you were here to investigate the shooter,

not investigate Antonio.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): It’s all related, Chief, and unfortunately, the

first step is to try to sift through eight layers

of lies he told his superiors and colleagues,

myself included.

Gabby Dawson: I’d trust my brother with my life. I don’t know you

from a load of wood.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your boss has my card if you decide to

change your mind and help.

[door closes]

Gabby Dawson: I honestly don’t know anything about what’s going

on with Antonio.

Chief Boden: Okay.

[door closes]

cutscene

Eric Whaley: Morning.

Kelly Severide: Morning.

[paper bag rustling]

Eric Whaley: You still work on boats?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

[paper bag continues to rustle]

Kelly Severide: Boater’s key. Thanks.

Eric Whaley: Mmm, you probably already got one, right?

Kelly Severide: Always use another.

Eric Whaley: I was out of line last shift. So, uh, that is half a peace

offering.

Kelly Severide: Accepted. The other half?

Eric Whaley: A bribe.

Kelly Severide: [chuckles] These things cost 7 bucks, man.

Eric Whaley: Fair enough.

Kelly Severide: [chukles]

Eric Whaley: Look [clears throat]

Now that I know what really happened between you

and Renee, I’m thinking she’s probably been letting

the guilt beat her up this whole time. I got no right to

ask this, but… I think if you reached out to her, it

could go a long way towards turning things around.

‘Cause like I said, man, we don’t hear from her.

Look, this is her cell number. At least I think it is. It’s a

computerised voice.

I’ve left messages…

Kelly Severide: Eric, I don’t even really know what I would say.

So maybe it’s just best to leave the past in the

past.

Eric Whaley: Maybe even just hearing your voice might make a

difference.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

[knocks on locker]

cutscene

Peter Mills: Hey, chow’s up.

[dog whines]

Peter Mills: Hey, hey, don’t you even think about it.

[dog whimpers]

Christopher Herrmann: Shay, this is that baby book I was telling

you about. Lots of good stuff, swaddling,

soothing…

Leslie Shay: Thanks Herrmann. Hey, do you know if it says anything

about sleep schedules.

Christopher Herrmann: I didn’t read it.

Leslie Shay: Hmm.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, you’re our guy for construction on

the new bar, right?

Matt Casey: I believe the offer was free consultation.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay. All right. Fine.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Christopher Herrmann: The inspection is tomorrow, and then our

new silent partner is coming over here

later for a meet and greet. We just gotta

make sure that this guy knows that we’re

driving this car.

Otis Zvonecek: Go easy. Extra partner means lower cost for the

rest of us.

Mouch: I’m with Herrmann. There’s an old Japanese proverb. Don’t

let your daughter-in-law eat your autumn eggplants.

Christopher Herrmann: What the hell does that mean?

Mouch: Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of.

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Possible drowning.

[sirens blaring, horns honking]

Matt Casey: There.

Boy 1: We were playing and all of a sudden, Patrick fell in!

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, help my son.

Chief Boden: How long’s he been under?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Three minutes, maybe more.

Chief Boden: Let’s get that straight-frame to the edge of the lake

right now.

Matt Casey: Exactly where did he fall in?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Right here. He came up for a second. Then

he… he went right back down again.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Kelly Severide: Keep feeding me line until I hit bottom. Then allow 6

more feet every time I tug twice, all right? When I

tug three times, I’ve got the kid.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, God, please… Find my boy!

[indistinct radio chatter]

[water splashing]

[dramatic music]

Hadley: All right, he’s at the bottom.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Hadley: Three tugs! He’s got him.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): [gasps]

Chief Boden: Medics, get ready.

Mills, go with the ambulance as backup.

Peter Mills: Right.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Oh my God. Is he alive?

[voice breaking] Patrick.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s put him in the right now.

[siren wailing]

Leslie Shay: Pushing epinephrine.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, check for lung sounds.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Come on, Patrick.

Leslie Shay: You’re in.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s do a pulse check.

Leslie Shay: Come on, Patrick. Come on.

Gabby Dawson: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait a second.

Peter Mills: What?

Gabby Dawson: I have a pulse.

Peter Mills: Wait, are you sure?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, pulses.

[air pumping]

Peter Mills: BP’s 60 over 40.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales]

Peter Mills: [exhales]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey. How’s the kid?

Leslie Shay: Good.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Got him warmed up. His BP is stabilised.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Lieutenant?

Kelly Severide: Hey, I just heard the news. That’s great.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yes. Thanks to you guys. Um… I just want you

to know, uh… I didn’t… my son was in that

water, and I froze. I… I did nothing.

Kelly Severide: Sir…

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): I don’t know why I just stood there. I wanted

to move, but my feet wouldn’t…

Kelly Severide: Listen to me. I’ve been to thousands of accident

scenes, and you never know any given day how

someone’s going to react.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yeah, but I did nothing. He’s my son, and I did

nothing.

Kelly Severide: That’s cold, dangerous water. You went in there,

we’d have been rescuing two.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): If you hadn’t shown up…

Kelly Severide: But we did.

And now your boy’s gonna be fine.

And you’re gonna be here to take him home. Okay?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Okay. Thanks.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Let me handle this.

Otis Zvonecek: All right.

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Arthur. Sorry for the wait.

Man 3 (Arthur): Ah, not a problem. I appreciate what you guys do.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, we wanted to open up the lines of

communication and let you know our

perspective on the whole partnership thing.

Man 3 (Arthur): So, uh, with the Latino girl, uh, we’re four, right?

Otis Zvonecek: I think that’s actually Latina.

Man 3 (Arthur): Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah. Look, I’m no math major, but

partnership-wise, that’s that’s, uh, 25% stake each,

no?

Christopher Herrmann: Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, no. The old

man definitely did not say equal

partnership. He said take care of you

based upon what you brought to the

table. So construction, hauling, initial

investment.

Man 3 (Arthur): I don’t have a lot of out-of-pocket money to do any

investing. I… so…

Christopher Herrmann: We’re not talking 25% then.

Man 3 (Arthur): Okay, sure. Yeah, yeah. No, I… I get your point.

Christopher Herrmann: Listen, let’s just see what you bring to the

table. We’ll see how it goes, and we’ll

make sure that it’s fair.

Man 3 (Arthur): Sounds great. Uh, look, I gotta get back to work,

but I’ll see you tomorrow at the inspection, huh?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay

Herrmann & Otis: [laughs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Hi there, little guy.

Clarice: You know, Daniel’s planning on using the fact that I was in

therapy and on antidepressants as proof that I’m mentally

unstable.

Leslie Shay: Screw Daniel. We’re strong enough. We’ll handle

whatever he throws our way.

Clarice: Well, the lawyer did say there was another option.

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: We could offer 50/50 custody.

Leslie Shay: Clarice…

Clarice: I know Daniel will take it. You know, and then we can just

end all of this and focus on being a family.

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Hey, you. Hi.

Okay.

cutscene

[background chatter]

Gabby Dawson: Knock, knock.

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Antonio Dawson: I’d be dead, you hadn’t been there.

Gabby Dawson: No, you’d have crawled your way to the front door.

Antonio Dawson: Has anybody come talk to you?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, some detective from Narcotics named Vikan.

Antonio Dawson: Yeah. He’s after my badge.

Gabby Dawson: He’s saying you’ve gone off the rails.

Antonio Dawson: Look, this started out as prostitutes getting a hold

of bad dope. That’s a Vice case, which is why I

got involved. Then it turned into the bad dope

being dealt. That’s when Narcotics came in.

Gabby Dawson: Hey…

Antonio Dawson: Then it became about that new gang that I was

telling you about trying to push their way in and

take over.

Gabby Dawson: [inhales] Laura and the kids?

Antonio Dawson: Department’s putting them in protective custody

until they catch who tried to kill me.

Gabby Dawson: Have they been threatened?

Antonio Dawson: There’s been some hang ups on our home phone

line.

Gabby Dawson: If this was all about gangs, there is one cop who

could have helped out.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t even think about it.

[gate opening]

[keys jingling]

[metal clanking]

[chains clinking]

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] Uh… my name’s Gabriela Daw…

Hank Voight: I know who you are. What the hell do you want?

Gabby Dawson: My brother, Antonio Dawson, he works in Vice…

Hank Voight: Yeah, yeah. He’s the guy who put the cuffs on me.

You tell him I said hi, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, well, this involves him. So if you’ve got your

panties in a twist over how he does his job and

that’s a deal breaker for you, you just say so, and

I’ll leave.

Hank Voight: Continue.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] He’s investigating some bad dope

that’s been dumped on prostitutes. Uh, it’s about

some new gang…

Hank Voight: I’ve heard all about that.

Gabby Dawson: He was shot a couple days ago. But this is more

than just him and his family still having a bull’s

eye on their chest. Girls are dying out there. If my

brother was willing to risk his life trying to stop it,

I’m willing to risk mine trying to help him.

Hank Voight: My ex-partner had a thing he liked to say. “What was

the first thing Adam said when the good Lord

dropped him in Eden?” What’s in it for me?

Gabby Dawson: You know, I came here on the off chance that,

despite what happened, you might still care

about trying to prevent people from dying.

I don’t know what your jail situation is. As a former

cop, I’m assuming you’re segregated. So…

maybe by helping out, that would go a ways to

getting you some better… Uh, I don’t know,

accommodations.

Hank Voight: Then this conversation becomes about favours.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Okay.

Hank Voight: Okay what?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, you help me, I’ll help you.

Hank Voight: You’re gonna wanna talk to a guy named T.T.

He operates out of a two-story on the corner of 27th

and State. And I wouldn’t advise you come knocking

for him on your own.

Gabby Dawson: Well, I can take care of myself.

Hank Voight: Fine. Just tell him Voight sent you. You’re looking for

someone to testify about the Red Hooks. That’s the

gang your brother was trying to take down. T.T. owes

me. And he’s motivated because the Red Hooks are

trying to move in on his actions.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, okay. All right, got it. T.T. Got it.

Hank Voight: I’ll be seeing you around.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks for your help.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: I don’t get this inspector, man. This bar’s been here

for 30 years. The old man said he never had a

problem.

Christopher Herrmann: Shut up.

So how’s it looking?

Man 4 (Inspector): Unfortunately, we have issues. Main one being

the layout. Your kitchen and bar area are too

close together.

Christopher Herrmann: Mr. Stephanidies said that you’ve always

approved it.

Man 4 (Inspector): Ah, well, see, that’s a different situation.

Mr Stephanidies and I had an understanding.

Otis Zvonecek: Huh, okay. Let me handle this

[clears throat]

Man 4 (Inspector): [laughs] Oh God.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: What are you, posing for a calendar?

Kelly Severide: It’s called a football hold.

Leslie Shay: Oh… [laughs]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Thank God he looks like Clarice.

[sighs] Was he crying?

Kelly Severide: No. Not too bad.

Leslie Shay: I must have been out like a light. I’m so sorry.

Kelly Severide: No, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.

Leslie Shay: [yawns]

Kelly Severide: Hey, this attorney you guys got…

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm?

Kelly Severide: Do you think he can locate people?

Leslie Shay: Like?

Kelly Severide: Like Renee… Whaley?

Leslie Shay: Really?

Kelly Severide: No, it’s not like that. Eric came to me, asking if I

could reach out. I guess they’ve all tried and

failed. He gave me a cell number. I left a

message, but… maybe if I just showed up

and… and… I don’t even know why I’m talking

about this.

Leslie Shay: You’re talking about it ‘cause it might help.

Kelly Severide: What would I gain from this? Nothing.

What?

Leslie Shay: I mean… today at the hospital, you reached out to

some father you’ve never met, but, uh, you don’t

wanna try and help out someone you almost

married?

cutscene

[keys jiggling]

[door opens and closes]

Gabby Dawson: Uh, my name’s Gabriela. I’m-I’m looking for T.T.

[gasps]

[gun cocks]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): Why you asking around about me, bitch?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Voight. Detective Voight. He told me to come see

you.

Man 5 (T.T.): You a cop?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers] I’m Gabriela Dawson, Firehouse 51.

I need your help.

My brother’s a cop, and he was shot last night.

Girls are dying from bad dope. You know this

because they’re trying to move in on you.

Voight told me that you can get somebody to

testify against the Red Hooks.

[gun cocks]

Man 5 (T.T.): You come around her again…

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): I’mma blow your head clean off.

Do you understand me?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

[footsteps departing]

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [gasps]

[pants]

cutscene

[engine revving]

[techno music playing]

[low chatter]

Kelly Severide: Renee.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I will be right back.

Kelly Severide.

Kelly Severide: Good seeing you. How you doing?

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): What brings you? Or is this just one hell of

an awkward coincidence?

Kelly Severide: No, um… I’m working with Eric at the same house,

51.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Oh?

Kelly Severide: And he asked if I’d come…

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I’m doing fine.

Is that what you came to find out?

Kelly Severide: I guess so, yeah.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Well your question’s been answered then.

Thanks for your concern.

cutscene

[door closes]

Chief Boden: This is probably gonna come as a surprise to you.

Jail visitation logs are monitored. Certainly those

concerning dirty ex-cops.

I got a call. Several, in fact. What’s my response

gonna be, Gabby?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I went there to see if Voight would provide

any help with the Antonio thing.

Chief Boden: Gabby.

[sighs] I can’t do anything about what you do off shift,

so I will save my breath.

I will give you a bit of advice. The news on this is

gonna travel fast. Sure as hell got to me quick. So

you may wanna bring in a certain someone from

this house before it gets on the grapevine and he

forms his own opinion.

Gabby Dawson: They tried to kill Antonio, and for all I know, they

may still wanna finish the job. Plus all those

OD’s…

Matt Casey: Voight tried to take me out! He’s a liar and a crook!

Gabby Dawson: I know. But sometimes you gotta, you know…

dance with the devil.

Matt Casey: Really? Is that the way it works?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Casey, I didn’t feel like I had any other

choice. I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: Hey, just do what you need to do, okay? I hope it

works out.

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [kicks chair]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Hey, Eric.

Eric Whaley: Kelly.

Kelly Severide: So, um, I-I saw Renee.

Eric Whaley: You’re kidding.

Kelly Severide: No.

Eric Whaley: [chuckles] That’s great.

Or was it?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. No she’s… she’s doing fine.

Eric Whaley: Where’d you find her?

Kelly Severide: This bar she works at.

Eric Whaley: Cocktail waitress?

Kelly Severide: Basically, yeah.

Eric Whaley: She good? She happy?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, she seems happy.

Eric Whaley: Thanks.

Kelly Severide: Mmhmm.

Eric Whaley: Hopefully I’ll hear from her.

Kelly Severide: Hope so.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Big day. We just heard the news.

Man 4 (Inspector): Congratulations.

Otis Zvonecek: I think a toast is in order here, huh? This is vodka

my parents brought back straight from the

homeland. Now, Herrmann and I are on duty, so

we can’t imbibe, but don’t let that stop you.

Nazdarovya.

Man 4 (Inspector): Um… I’ll pass.

If you just, uh, sign where the “X’s” are, and

you’ll be all set.

I want to apologise for any misunderstanding.

I’ll get these into the system right away, and

you’ll get your fully executed copies in the

mail shortly.

Man 3 (Arthur): I was thinking about our first conversation about

what it is I bring to the table. I bring a lot of

intangibles, I think they call it. In fact, I’d say I

bring 25% worth.

Ah.

cutscene

Peter Mills: You gotta stop this now. You wanna get shot too?

Just… let the investigation play itself out.

Gabby Dawson: I think I just ruined a friendship.

Peter Mills: With who?

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Battalion 25…

[kissing sound]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. House collapse, 1600 block,

North Poplar.

[sirens blares]

Lady 2: The ceiling fell in! It sounded like thunder.

Matt Casey: We’ll take a look. Just stay back.

Lady 2: Our upstairs neighbour, he’s a crazy hoarder. Keeps all

these magazines and newspapers. We could hear the

floor creaking for months.

Christopher Herrmann: Have you seen him?

Chief Boden: Ma’am will you move to the corner? This building is

compromised. Everybody proceed with caution.

Matt Casey: Main level collapsed into the basement. Can’t get in

from here. Where’s the entrance to the basement?

Lady 2: The door’s open. Oh my God. My daughter goes down there

with her boyfriend sometimes.

Chief Boden: Okay, we’re going in. Truck, Squad, get all the airbags

and cribbing we have. Get it out here now.

[indistinct chatter]

[wood creaking loudly]

Chief Boden: We need to create a tunnel using airbags and

cribbing. We’ll slide ‘em in one by one, and then we’ll

use the cribbing as support. Severide, you’re in front.

Call out the line.

Kelly Severide: All right, Casey, Herrmann, Capp, Cruz, Hadley,

Mills, you guys are with me. The rest of you guys,

�� up to feed the line. Let’s go.

[loud creaking & cracking]

Kelly Severide: More cribbing.

Capp: Cribbing.

Kelly Severide: All right, up on yellow.

[motor humming, wood creaking & cracking]

[indistinct radio chatter]

Matt Casey: Send the Stokes basket down the tunnel.

Christopher Herrmann: Stokes basket.

Matt Casey: You guys okay?

Teen Boy: Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

Lady 2: Oh baby. Oh my baby.

Christopher Herrmann: There you go. She’s okay, mom. Got

banged around a little.

cutscene

Chief Boden: There’s a young woman in the briefing room. Says she

wants to talk to you.

Young Woman (Rose): You Gabriela?

Gabby Dawson: I am.

Young Woman (Rose): T.T. told me to come here.

[dramatic music]

Gabby Dawson: I’m glad you did.

Young Woman (Rose): And I can trust you?

Gabby Dawson: You can.

Young Woman (Rose): ‘Cause I’m not playing around. All right, if

I’m gonna help, I need assurances. I need

out of town for my testimony. They’ll kill me

in a second if they knew I was here.

Gabby Dawson: Whatever you need, it’ll be taken care of. You have

my word.

What do you know?

Young Woman (Rose): Everything.

cutscene

[locker opens]

[pills rattling]

[locker door shuts]

cutscene

[low conversation]

Man 3 (Arthur): Hey partner.

Christopher Herrmann: Arthur… I wanna come clean with you.

[metal clanging]

Christopher Herrmann: All right, the thing is, I got a checkered

history in terms of business investments.

Some people, they hoard broken junk.

Well, I hoard broken opportunities. My

point is is that I’m really looking forward

to owning this bar. It’s an investment

opportunity that I truly believe is gonna

work.

Man 3 (Arthur): So what’s the problem?

Christopher Herrmann: You’re the problem. You’re a bully.

You use threats and violence to intimidate

people, so if you wanna have at it and

smash up my legs just like you did that

poor bastard inspector, then have at it.

I mean it.

Man 3 (Arthur): Is that right?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m a firefighter, Arthur.

I see a lot of things that, believe me, you

don’t wanna see. I don’t get squeamish.

Instead of 25%, you get 1. 1% of what I

foresee as being pretty solid profits. All

for doing nothing but walking away from

our bar and staying away.

Man 3 (Arthur): I’ll expect my 1% monthly.

[boot closes]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Any word back yet from Daniel on the 50/50 offer?

Clarice: Mm, no, not yet.

Leslie Shay: Oh, he’ll take it. It’s the best deal he’s gonna get, and

he knows it.

Clarice: [sighs]

Well, Wesley is gonna have a good man in his life,

regardless.

Kelly Severide: That’s nice of you to say.

All right, well, there you have it. I can keep it in my

room until you’re ready to swap it out.

[phone rings]

Kelly Severide: Eric.

Eric Whaley: You sure Renee seemed okay when you talked to her?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. Why?

Eric Whaley: I just got a call from the hospital. She took a bunch of

pills.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I told you not to go Gabby on this.

[kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: I know you did.

Antonio Dawson: Captain just told me your girl gave a full

statement, including the identity of the shooter.

Gabby Dawson: This ends it, right?

Antonio Dawson: Well, it should. But what did you promise Voight?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, I told him I’d return the favour. Whatever that

means.

Antonio Dawson: You’re in bed with this guy now, Gabby.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Someone tried to kill my brother.

If you mess with my family, you mess with me.

I don’t regret what I did.

Antonio Dawson: I love you. And I’m proud to be your brother.

cutscene

[phone rings]

[phone beeps]

[door closes]

Nancy Casey: I’m so sorry, Matt. Ron and I just kinda lost track of

time, and something happened with his car. I don’t

know, it had something to do with the clutch. And it

broke down on us right on the Eisenhower, of course.

We had to call the tow truck, go to the service centre.

D-Do-Do you want me to get the driver’s card and…

or-or the receipt?

Matt Casey: Yeah. Get ‘em for me.

Nancy Casey: I don’t know why I even bother.

Matt Casey: You got two weeks to find a new place.

Nancy Casey: What? Where am I gonna live? Where am I gonna

go?

Matt Casey: I don’t know.

You got two weeks to figure it out.

Nancy Casey: He chipped away at me, you know?

[keys clatter]

Nancy Casey: Every day. Your father.

He convinced me that, not only wasn’t I a worthy

mother, I wasn’t even a worthy person. I believed

him.

Then he started to do it to you. Every day another

sidelong comment, another criticism. You

remember it. I know you do. You started to

internalise it, and my worst fear was coming

true… that he was gonna do to you what he did to

me. So that night he called, we argued… and he

said something about you. Something… so cruel.

And I snapped. And I went, and I got the gun out

of the box that he kept in the closet. And I took

the house key that you left out. And I drove

across town. And I shot him.

Just to shut him up. Just to never hear those words

coming out of his mouth again.

I know what you’re thinking. I know what you

thought. But I know you, Matthew. You don’t have

that kind of anger inside of you, that ability to

completely lose control.

You’re not me.

And I think that’s what you really wanted to know.

- end -

Definitions:

Axillary artery = Is a large blood vessel that conveys oxygenated blood to the lateral aspect of the thorax, the axilla (armpit) and the upper limb.

OR = Operating Room

Cagey = Secretive; guarded. Reluctant to give information owing to caution or suspicion.

Vice = Police division whose focus is stopping public-order crimes like gambling, narcotics, prostitution, and illegal sales of alcohol.

Epinephrine = Adrenaline, also known as epinephrine, is a hormone and medication. Adrenaline is normally produced both by the adrenal glands and by a small number of neurons in the medulla oblongata (long stem-like structure which makes up the lower part of the brainstem), where it acts as a neurotransmitter involved in regulating visceral functions (e.g. functions)

Imbibe = Drink alcohol

Cribbing = Temporary wooden structure used to support heavy objects during construction, relocation, vehicle extrication and urban search and rescue.

Eisenhower = Interstate 290 (I-290) is an auxiliary Interstate Highway that runs westwards from the Chicago Loop. The portion of I-290 and I-294 to its east end is officially called the Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway. In short form, it is known as “the Ike” or the Eisenhower.

20 notes · View notes

rxsilixnce · 5 years ago

Photo

I have some really profound analyzations I want to share of the masterpiece “Jennifer’s Body” after watching it so many times over the last couple years. Too bad Transformers fucked Megan Fox over because she doesn’t get the rep she deserves, she is such a talented actress and she’s been so overlooked.

Jennifer and Needy have an intensely strong connection with one another, yet Needy doesn’t fully understand Jennifer until the end of the movie. They both have lots of intuition and they can sense what the other is planning or doing. Needy doesn’t have to tell Jennifer who she likes, Jennifer already knows, and when Jennifer shows up at her house, Needy knows its her. They have said “Hopeless” at the exact same time, when Needy and Chip were having sex, and when Jennifer was murdering Collin. At prom, the feeling on her lips was Jennifer kissing Chip. Needy knows exactly where to go in order to save Chip. Their connection is almost supernatural. They look at each other like they are in some sort of a trance, especially Jennifer, she adores Needy, especially when Needy watched her cheer from the bleachers and how Jennifer waves at her, and how she tucks Needy’s hair behind her ear and admires her before kissing her. When Jennifer says “We can play boyfriend, girlfriend like we used to,” it reveals that they may have been with each other sexually before, and it also shows Jennifers desperation to always have Needy by her side and her attraction towards her. Jennifer is quickly dismissive over Needy’s concerns, yet Needy still comes to the right conclusions. When Needy begged her not to get in the van with the band, Jennifer told her to “Shut up,” when Needy kept asking her what happened the night of the fire and what happened when Jennifer showed up at her house covered in blood, Jennifer kept acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. After Jennifer opened up about the night some, Needy figures out, “Maybe you did die that night.” After Needy asks what she needs to do to “stay full,” Jennifer dismisses her yet again says, “You know Needy, maybe you should talk to someone about these disturbing thoughts that you’re having,” and “I think Chip may be having second thoughts about you.” This is an attempt to force Needy into feeling insecure and protect herself from Needy knowing the full truth, but Needy connects the dots on what Jennifer means, as the next day at school she imagines Jennifer with blood running down her face. Jennifer seems to know exactly how to manipulate Needy, until the end of the movie...

In the film, Jennifer continuously says the word “hopeless,” more importantly, she says, “I need you hopeless.” Now, we know that Anita (Amanda Seyfried) was nicknamed “Needy” by Jennifer, and I believe Jennifer and Needy had a codependent relationship, majorly initiated by Jennifer because she wants Needy to be reliant on her and “hopeless” without her. The word “hopeless” is also written in blood on the wall in the pool scene. You see this constantly throughout the movie, Needy listens to demands from Jennifer, Jennifer is the leader, the alpha. Needy is starstruck in the beginning as she watches Jennifer cheer. “People find it hard to believe that a babe like Jennifer would associate with a dork like me.” Needy immediately changes plans with her boyfriend after Jennifer guilts her into going out, “You and me are going out tonight.” After an attempt to tell her she already has plans, Jennifer says “Boo, crossing out Needy,” “Wear something cute, okay?” Jennifer makes Needy scared to loose her and doesn’t take no for an answer, and Needy does whatever she says in return. Jennifer criticizes Needy and especially her boyfriend, “It smells like Thai food in here, have you guys been fucking?” “You’re totally jealous.” Needy and her associations will always be lower than Jennifers, making Needy feel like she is owned by Jennifer. Jennifer schedules Needy’s life and tells her what to do, she can’t even call her boyfriend without Jennifer saying, “Crossing you out” to insight fear into Needy. Jennifer kills Needy’s boyfriend Chip, and others who may be a threat for coming too close to Needy, she is angered by Amet, Jonas, and Collin for gaining attention from Needy. Jennifer needs Needy to be her ultimate, the only power figure in her life, and she eliminates anyone who could take that away from her. When a guy is talking to Needy at the bar, Jennifer talks down to him, walks over and grabs him, showing him that Needy is her property. “Are you gonna cuff me?”

However, when we are taken to the flashbacks of their childhood together, because “Sandbox love never dies,” Needy is actually the more protective one and has much more confidence than Jennifer, “Don’t tell my mom, she’ll give me a shot.” Jennifer is weak and insecure yet puts on a facade of being the superficial popular girl. We know this because we see Jennifer’s weak side time and time again throughout the film. For example, before she is killed she shows genuine fear and humanity, when she is in the van with the men who killed her, she tries hard to convince them that she isn’t the person they want to kill, because she thought they didn’t want a virgin. As she is stabbed, she is screaming and crying, begging them not to kill her. She appears to be fierce and indestructible, but she’s really sensitive and she is the one who needs Needy, she relies on Needy to depend on her. Needy appears to be an empath and she is also secure in herself, and she cares for Jennifer deeply, when Jennifer continues to watch the band when the fire starts, Needy pulls her out of the bar, and begs her not to get into the van with the band, as she fears for Jennifers safety. “I watched her get into that van and I knew something awful was going to happen.” Jennifer is clearly easily manipulated and gullible, as it doesn’t take much to convince her to get into a van with men she hardly knows. Jennifer cares about Needy somewhat, but she mainly cares for herself and her own needs, therefore, has taken away anyone who would give Needy happiness other than herself, and showed no remorse for anyone she has killed or the innocent people who died in the bar that burned down. Jennifer is a coward, and she doesn’t want anyone to know about the relationship she wants to have with needy, “Don’t talk to yourself, that’s one of your more freakish behaviors, and it makes us both look like total gaylords.” She preys on Jonas when he is weaker and devastated about loosing his best friend in the fire, because he will be easier to manipulate. “It’s what Craig would have wanted.” After killing/dominating Jonas, she feels stronger than she did before, and she takes pride in hurting other people, because it makes her feel powerful. She calls Needy and tells her “I’m having the like the best day since Jesus invented the calendar.” She gets insecure when Needy answers the other line, “Don’t blow me off? Boo, i’m crossing you out.” “I am a god,” she declares to Needy after Needy and Chip decide to go out together. When Needy arrives to rescue Chip, she accuses Jennifer of being insecure, Jennifer gets defensive and says, “I am not insecure, Needy. God, that’s a joke, how could I ever be insecure? I was the snowflake queen.” Needy continues criticizing her, “You were two years ago, when you didn’t have to take laxatives to stay skinny,” at which point she is so angered at Needy and screams, “I am going, to eat your soul, and shit it out!” Although, Jennifer didn’t, because she couldn’t, she could have demolished both Needy and Chip with the amount of demonic powers she has, but she chose not to.

Another reason why Jennifer is so territorial over Needy is because Jennifer has a strong hatred for men, and sees them as toys to play with. While she views needy as the only person she has a connection with, and she really sees Needy as higher than herself for that reason. She could never hurt or kill Needy, and doesn’t appear to want to kill any other girl, because she views women as more valuable than men. She see’s men as so worthless, that she can kill them with no remorse. After Needy says, “You’re killing people!” she replies with “No, i’m killing boys...” insinuating that its no big deal. She also says “Boys are just placeholders, they come and go.” When Jennifer shows up at Needy’s house after being killed and raids the food in the fridge, Jennifer pushes her against a wall and asks, “Are you scared?” after Needy says yes, she gets close to Needy’s neck and we think she is going to bite her, but Jennifer pushes her temptations away and throws her across the room and leaves to protect Needy from herself, because she can’t bare the pain of hurting Needy. Jennifer grabs Needy’s boobs in the bar and encouraged her to use her body to get what she wants, which today is a clear portrayal of empowerment for some modern day feminists. After Collins is practically drooling over Needy in the hallway, Jennifer steps in and asks him to ask her out, she rejects him and explains to Needy, “He listens to maget-rock and he wears black nail polish, my dick is bigger than his.” After seeing how much Collins means to Needy, she accepts his offer to not only make Needy more dependent on her, but to gain the trust of the boys and lure them in to eliminate them. This makes Needy feel invalidated and Jennifer convinces her that nice things won’t come her way unless Jennifer is the top dog. This is confirmed when Jennifer says that she can have one of the lower band mates, but not the top one, because he is hers, and when she says how Chip has been looking really cute to her recently after needy blows her off to do something with him. The reason she is so sexist is simply because she has always seen men as a threat that would take away the only person she can be emotionally dependent on.

Again, Jennifer could never hurt Needy, and Needy goes after Jennifer later to kill her in order to protect other boys from getting killed, Needy knows this is what she has to do, she now sees Jennifer accurately and she realizes the horrible person Jennifer is, though, this is exactly was Jennifer wanted, she needed Needy so badly so that ultimately, she would kill her. In the beginning, it was not like this, but after becoming a succubus, and feeling “empty” so much and being forced to kill to keep herself alive and powerful, Jennifer had enough. The moment Jennifer made the decision to go after Chip, she made the decision to let Needy go, because after facing so much rejection from Needy, and the charm she once had on her faded completely, Jennifer was more insecure and heartbroken than ever, she didn’t want to live if she couldn’t have Needy, and she knew that if Needy felt betrayed enough, she would kill her. She also couldn’t hurt Needy since she is in love with her, making Needy the only person that could kill her. Jennifer could have went on a rampage and killed anyone she wanted to after Chip’s attack to make herself strong and beautiful again, but she chose to go home hungry and weak and wait for Needy to come murder her. Jennifer pretends to fight Needy, and give her all into hurting her, but keep in mind she has to make Needy feel strong and brave enough to kill her, so she criticizes her and continues to act like the villain, “Do you buy all you’re murder weapons at Home Depot? God you’re butch.” We then see Needy say “I’m crossing you out,” the line Jennifer used for so long to have power over Needy, the power exchange is exactly what Jennifer wants. Needy rips their BFF necklace off Jennifers neck and we are shown an emotional moment of it falling to the floor, this symbolizes the end of their friendship, relationship, and codependency. Jennifer’s plan has been a success as she see’s Needy will be okay without her, and she knows their relationship is over, she lets everything down and allows Needy to kill her. After Needy stabs her in the chest, Jennifer says, “My tit,” and Needy says “No, your heart.” However, Needy was not okay without Jennifer, in fact, Jennifer destroyed her, “I don’t know who Needy Lesnicki is anymore,” she says as she is shown in a jail/mental hospital. We are shown that she will become a succubus herself after Jennifer bit her, which is what Jennifer wanted, and yet again, we are shown how selfish Jennifer was, she wanted Needy to become what she hated most. “You just might absorb some of the demons abilities, and you just might get lucky for once in your miserable life.”

Jennifer is truly not like any other “classic mean girl” portrayed in Hollywood movies, and it’s so sad to me that Jennifer’s Body received bad ratings since I feel Jennifer and Needy are such complex characters with an interesting relationship. Needy may not even be bisexual like Jennifer, she may have just been so enticed and manipulated by Jennifer and looked up to her in ways of wanting to be like her. This would explain why Needy was so bothered by Jennifer kissing her, because she really just saw Jennifer as a mentor, and why wouldn’t she? She had to be jealous of Jennifer, she had to want certain qualities Jennifer possessed, she watched so many boys leave her for Jennifer. And in the end, Needy became Jennifer.

#jennifers body #megan fox #amanda seyfried #horror #movie #dailyhorrorfilms #movie reviews #lesbian #needy lesnicki #jennifer check #hidden message #jennifer's body icon icons 00s

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sunmoontruth-stiles · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request an interaction between void stiles and Malia

Ok I was going to save this until I finished the accompanying art, but my drawing schedule is so bad rn. I really enjoyed this one. I definitely feel like a true interaction between the nogitsune and Malia would have been so interesting. I will say though, small warning about this, it’s not super pleasant. All hurt, no comfort ya know?

---

When Malia left Eichen, she knew one thing; she had to help Stiles. In reality, she barely knew him. He'd helped Scott, an annoyingly moral true alpha that was a bit too altruistic for her taste, shift her back from how she'd been stuck for so long. Malia wasn't used to being human. Interacting with people was harder than she expected. She was aggressive and couldn't communicate for awhile. Maybe that's why her dad had been convinced to send her away to that place.

It hurt. When he signed those papers and left her. Malia didn't leave her room for two weeks, refusing to talk and growling at anyone who dared enter her space. When she finally did leave, it was all so confusing for her. The people were absolutely insane, but at least they didn't bother her too much. The endless therapy did help her communication skills. She was just starting to accept her new existence of endless repetitive days, and she was learning that life was just new ways for the world to screw you over. Then he showed up.

Stiles looked like shit. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, fidgeting, and yelling about needing to leave. Before she could think, she was on him. She punched him and intended to get all her anger with the world out on him, but they dragged her off and shot her up with yet another tranquilizer. The familiar weight spread over her limbs and the world went dark.

Malia quickly realized there was something wrong with him. Stiles was unusually on edge when she saw him around Eichen. Eventually, she helped him escape. Malia still wasn't exactly sure why she cared. Maybe she just wanted to believe there were good people in the world after all.

Sleeping with Stiles seemed like a good way to calm him down at the time. She'd been a coyote for eight years, and confidence in her own skin came with that. She liked him, maybe not romantically, but he felt safe and that was enough.

Malia tracked Scott, she had enough information to find him fairly easily. She passed along the information, and he seemed grateful. She wasn't sure what to do next. Scott seemed to pick up on her hesitation and maybe Stiles' scent on her.

"Do you... do you want to help us?" Scott asked her cautiously. He didn't know her well, didn't know if he could trust her, but Scott was always quick to see the best in people. Malia, not so much. She starred at him, searching his face for any signs of deceit or other intentions.

"I want to help Stiles," she said firmly, a simple clarification, but it was an important one. Scott nodded and caught her up on Stiles' situation.

He was possessed. A fox had their hold on him. She'd met the man fighting back, and she saw the toll it was taking on him. Malia knew he wouldn't last long.

She'd interacted with foxes before during her time as a coyote. They were cunning creatures, very tricky and hard to catch.

Malia left without an explanation, leaving Scott confused and slightly irritated. He probably figured she'd decided not to help them, but she never said she would. She wanted to help Stiles.

She tracked his scent, scouring all over town through the night. Eventually, around four in the morning, she found him. As she approached, she questioned that fact. Whatever this was, it wasn't Stiles, and it found her.

He sat calming, hands clasped between his knees, and a smile settled on his face. His eyes were dark. That warm, sunny brown was now cold and flat. The deep purple rings were set around his eyes, cheeks slightly gaunt, and his skin looked sickly. Malia wondered how he could have changed so quickly.

"Malia, glad you finally made it. It took you long enough. Those sharp senses sure have dulled down," his voice was laced with amusement. He was mocking her. Malia's brow furrowed. She held a safe distance.

"You're the fox. The one that stole Stiles' body," Malia said flatly. He only smirked.

"Stole is such a strong word. I prefer repurposing," he got to his feet and strolled over to her. Malia stood rigidly. He moved with purposeful, smooth movements. Everything about him was so different than Stiles.

She growled, eyes glowing blue. He only laughed.

"Oh Malia, don't lose your temper. They'll lock you up again. Poor feral little coyote. Killed her mommy and baby sister. Do you think daddy knows? Wonders why you're the only one who walked away? Wonders where you've been for eight years? Maybe he sees it in your eyes. The eyes of a killer. The monster that murdered his family," the fox smiled wickedly, using Stiles' face like a mask. Malia's eyes widened. Without hesitation he reached out, gripping her arm tightly. She winced. Black veins stretched down him arm and up his neck. He let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh that's the good stuff. All that torment and guilt. Your pain is deep and aged," he looked at her with such satisfaction. Malia looked at him with horror.

"Stiles..." she whispered softly, hoping to see any familiarity in the face just inches from her own.

"Isn't here sweetie," his voice was sickeningly condescending. Her face hardened, and she glared daggers. "What? Were you hoping to track me down, whisper his name like a prayer, and he'd just push his way out for you? You thought you meant more than his best friend? More than the girl he'd been in love with for years? More than his father? Malia, you were a simple screw in a mental institution as his lowest point. He's not gonna come running back to the crazy girl who went through puberty as a dog." The fox laughed in her face.

Malia tried to pull away from his grasp, his fingers only tightened. She willed her claws to come out but her hands only shook in fear.

"God you're useless aren't you? Can't even shift anymore. I bet you can't heal the same either..." he tilted his head and looked down at her arm. He twisted his wrist and forced Malia to the ground in front of him. His cold eyes looked down at her. She winced and let out a soft whine.

"He'll get out. Stiles is stronger than you. You underestimate him, and that's why you'll lose," her voice was like venom.

His face twisted with anger. The fox's eyes seemed to darken in a shadow of rage. Malia looked up with pride and spite.

"Stronger than me? I'm thousands of years old. I can't be killed. Stiles will whither and die in his own mind. He's fighting a war. I'm playing a game!" he screamed with unfiltered hatred and ferocity. Malia just smiled up at him, and she let out a sharp laugh. His eyes looked like they were aflame. He struck her down with his free hand, and Malia hit the ground with a hard Smack.

She pressed her palms into the cool concrete, digging her nails into the rough surface. Malia laughed, blood splattering out from her split lip.

Malia looked up at him, her rage breaking the surface. She lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. She rose her hand to strike him, but she hesitated when she saw the wicked glee in his eyes. Malia's eyes widened as she caught sight of her claws fully extended and readied slash across his throat.

He wanted this.

Malia pushed away from him and scrambled to her feet, horrified at what she almost did. He only flashed a wicked smile.

"Aw, done playing? Didn't want to paint the town red, Lover?" his eyes were fixed on her, still laying casually on the ground at her feet.

He got up and tilted his head, walking closer. She sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back. The fox grabbed her wrist and pulled it close to him. He examined her claws carefully. She tried to retract them, but they stayed adamantly present. He took her hand and brought it to his face. Malia looked on with horror as he dragged one of her claws down the side of his face. The blood dripped down her hand in bold, red streaks.

"Does it feel familiar? The blood of someone you care about soaking your claws?" There was a amused glint in his eyes. She felt sick.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, "Oh come on, darling. You think you can side with Scott's pack? You're not one of them. You're like me. You're a villain. You can't be good," he dug her claws into Stiles' cheek bone. The blood was trickling down his neck.

"They'll find a way to get him back," Malia tried to speak steadily, hold back the waver in her breath that threatened to show her fear.

"Stiles is void," the fox said viciously. He reached up and smeared the blood onto his fingers. He brought his hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently. It was not unlike how she touched Stiles before they kissed. He held her like that for a moment before parting and walking away with his back to her.

Malia watched, her claws slowly retreated, but the blood remained. It covered her hand, stretching down her arm and dripping onto the ground near her feet. A bright red smear graced her cheek. The sharp coppery smell of Stiles' blood surrounded her.

She had no one to turn to. No one in the world that made her feel like she belonged or was safe. Stiles was gone, his face being worn like a shield against his friends and family. Without him, she didn't know what to do next. Without Stiles, Malia was void.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fic #malia hale #malia tate #stiles stilinski #void stiles #Nogitsune #stalia #Malia x stiles #ask

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years ago

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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florenceandthemachine · 4 years ago

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TUMBLR FUCKED UP SOME OF MY ASK POSTS I AM SO SORRY ANYWAY

@buckleydiazs asked:

talk to me about eddie and chris asking buck to move in, pls and thank u 🥰

Their first unplanned night together starts off with a text message.

Ironically enough, it’s not even a message between Eddie and Buck—it’s between Buck and Maddie. Eddie is all smiles as he pulls his truck onto the highway, Buck in the passenger seat, laughing easily at some story Eddie was telling. It was nice. It was easy, easier than most of the relationships Eddie had ever had before, but that wasn’t surprising—at least, not anymore, not with Buck.

Once Buck had gotten the stick out of his ass, Eddie realized how easily the two of them would get along almost immediately. Buck was... well, he was a far better person than Eddie was, and Eddie would be the first to admit that, but Buck seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could basically out shine the sun with one of his big toothy smiles.

Their relationship was unique, certainly; they had survived things that went beyond the real of “regular people”; tsunamis, earthquakes, bombs, and most stressful of all (weirdly enough), a lawsuit. somehow, the lawsuit was the straw that broke the back on their friendship—Eddie had finally pulled his head out of his ass, realized how miserable his life had been without Bucky, and asked him out on a proper date a week after Buck's first call back on the team.

Though they spent a lot of time together as friends, and that had only grown after their first official ‘date’, they had been carpooling out of necessity for the week—Bobby had been good enough to match their schedules up while Buck’s Jeep was in the shop—and Eddie insisted that it wasn’t too much of a detour to shuttle Buck back and forth to work.

The mood in the truck was easy and light, and Buck was still laughing when he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times—and like someone had switched on a vacuum, the good mood was sucked through the window in less than a second.

“It’s Maddie. She says Taylor Kelly is at my apartment complex. Apparently there was a pretty big drug bust in the building across the way, she has her van camped out in our lot.”

And, well, Eddie wasn’t about to tolerate that, wasn’t about to tolerate anything that made Buck unhappy, anything that could suck the joy out of him in an instant, for reasons that he chose not to dive too deep into. He focused instead on the problem (and yeah, Taylor Kelly was a problem with a capital B), and what he figured was the easiest solution.

“Oh. Well, then you’re staying at our place tonight.”

As expected, Buck started up a whole litany of protests. It was a little sad, Eddie thought, how eager Buck was to talk himself out of a good time, and if he didn’t have the backup of a year of knowing Buck as well as he did, Eddie might have actually taken his ramblings at face value.

As it was, though, he had an ace in the hole. A surefire way to get Buck to shut up and accept some good in his life. He didn’t like to play it, but he knew that he had to as soon as Buck mentioned “I’ll just stay at the firehouse tonight, it’s really no issue, I’ll order take out, and—”

“Buck, it’s fine. Chris has been begging me to invite 'his Buck’ over for dinner for a week now anyway.”

“...oh. Okay.”

Was it wrong for Eddie to use his son so easily, knowing that Buck was as wrapped around Chris’ finger to the degree that nearly rivaled himself? Probably. Could Eddie bring himself to care? Nope.

Especially not when Chris basically launched himself into Bucks arms, completely overjoyed that Buck was here for a “surprise sleepover”.

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, with Chris easily dominating most of the conversation, rattling off facts, figures, stories from school, information about his friends, and Buck had eaten it up.

Eddie had found himself staring at Buck—more than once—with a little bit of a dopey look on his face, he was sure, as Buck got more and more animated, making Christopher laugh, telling stories of his own, and he hadn’t even bothered to look away when Buck caught him staring.

Buck was a blusher. Eddie loved it.

Now, though, Chris had disappeared to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas, and Eddie and Buck were working in companionable quiet as they started to clean the table.

"You know, if Taylor being at my apartment means I get to spend the evening with my two favorite guys...” Buck said with a smile, closing the fridge as he leaned against it, keeping an ear out for Chris as he turned the faucet in the bathroom on. “...I’ll have to invite her over next time.”

Eddie shrugged, gesturing vaguely with a spoon, though he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he rose a brow. “Buck, you know you don’t need excuses, right? You’re allowed to like this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am as wrapped around your finger as you are Chris’s.”

Buck was blushing again, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed to step forward, his arms wrapping around Buck as Buck started to speak again. “You... you know the feeling is mutual, right?” he asked, and Eddie felt himself light up. “And I... don’t really want to wait for a next time to spend some time with you either.”

Buck wasn’t sure which God was on his side, but either way, he was immensely thankful that Chris didn’t barge in until long after Eddie and Buck had separated, even if they were still breathing a little heavily.

The next unexpected visit, it turns out, was only four weeks and three planned dates later.

Buck had had many a sleepless night after the tsunami, but after the lawsuit, his nightmares had become even worse, more intense, more real. There were nights where he had to tell himself, ten times, that Chris was okay, that he was alive, and then there were nights like tonight, where he let the fear outweigh the guilt and he called Eddie.

(It was probably telling that he was never afraid of his own death—only Chris’. If he had a therapist, he would probably bring that up, but... well, therapy had never been a great idea for Buck before.)

To his credit, Eddie hadn’t let it ring even twice before picking up.

“Buck, Chris is okay. He’s okay. You saved him, Buck, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Ed—he was right there, and I lost him, and I—”

“He is okay. Buck, seriously, he’s okay. Here, you should come over. See for yourself?”

“What? No.” Buck may have been coming out of a nightmare, but even then, he knew not to risk disturbing Eddie more than he absolutely had to.

“Buck, whatever thoughts are swirling around in that head, you better, get your admittedly very attractive ass over here right now.”

...well, he couldn’t argue with that.

Eddie could feel his heart break when he opened the door, though, and got an armful of puffy eyed, apologetic Buck in response. They quietly made their way over to Chris’ room and then to Eddies own, where he made no short work of Buck’s apologies, kissing him soundless every time he tried.

At the end of the night, Buck wasn’t sure what had helped him sleep better—seeing Chris alive and well, or spending his night in Eddie’s arms, wrapped up tight enough that he couldn’t break free even if he tried.

Not that he would.

“Hi Buck!”

“Hi Christopher!”

Buck was all smiles as he swooped in to scoop Christopher into a big bear hug, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s cheek as he let Chris back down to the ground and they started walking back to the car. “How was school, buddy?” He asked, easily going into idle listening mode as Eddie’s hand slipped into his. It was an early release day for Christopher, and he had all but demanded that they spent the afternoon hanging out together—and it was moments like these that reminded Buck about how lucky he was, swinging his hand in Eddie’s like a teenager as they walked back to the car, Chris eagerly leading the way.

Honestly, if anything, the fact that a date night for Buck was now spending a night at the museum with his boyfriend and his kid (instead of in a club, or at a bar, or doing something he probably wouldn’t remember the next day) really was a testament to his own personal growth. No drinking, no drugs, no questionable sex with questionable people in questionable locations—just a nerdy firefighter and his kid.

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and pretzels and soda, and somehow Chris was outpacing them on energy as they wandered through the exhibits. Buck never quit being amazed at just how much Chris knew—hell, Buck was an adult and he still didn’t know the difference between a Monet painting and a Manet painting—but Chris was like the little brainiac Energizer bunny, his energy only weaning after they got home and demanded Buck read him two whole stories for bedtime, and Buck was feeling selfish enough to allow himself a few moments with Chris, sleeping on his shoulder, before he tucked the boy in for the night.

“I’m gonna get going.”

“You don’t have to, you know?”

Eddie kept his voice low as Buck slid Chris’ door shut, his arms finding their way around Buck’s waist on autopilot, easily masking the twinge of annoyance he felt when Buck had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

If he ever met that Abby chick, he was going to give her a piece of his mind.

“I mean you don’t have to leave. You can stay, sweetheart. I… well, I want you to stay, but I always want you to stay, so I’m a little biased. But you can stay as long as you want, whenever you want.”

It was better, he hoped, to be direct, because Buck obviously didn’t get the hint after so many subtle cues. Hell, Eddie had given him a key after their third official date, and all Buck had commented was how glad he was to have it, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, the fact that Buck seemed dumber then a box of rocks didn’t seem to count as an emergency.

His argument seemed to be well received tonight, at least, because Buck smiled shyly as he looked up to Eddie, his own arms sliding around the other males shoulders.

“You’re sure I won’t bother you and Chris, right? You really want me to stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” Eddie said. For the rest of your life, he managed to keep inside.

“Buck, you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“And you know we love having you here, and we generally hate it when you leave.”

“I get it, Eddie.”

“So you know—“

“Eddie, will you please let me in?”

If Buck wasn’t soaked head to toe, standing on Eddie’s doorstep, he’d probably start to think that the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of them. It was certainly playing a cruel joke on Eddie, to be honest—they had finished a particularly grueling overnight shift just three hours ago, and he had all but begged Buck to come and get some rest at the house while Christopher was out with Carla that day, and Buck had politely but firmly refused, not wanting to trample on any of the time that he got to take for himself. It was driving Eddie crazy, to be honest—he had really thought that they had made progress on that front, that they had finally gotten to the point where Buck didn’t think he was intruding, or interrupting, or distracting, or whatever. He really had thought he had made his stance clear—that he always loved spending time with Buck, period.

Well, he was certainly never one to back down from a challenge.

“What even happened, Buck?”

“The pipe burst in the apartment above me. I got soaked through in the middle of a nap.”

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie! I was trying to be considerate!”

“Baby, I’m not laughing. I’m just very distracted by how good you look soaking wet.”

“Eddie, I swear to god—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“….oh. Oh!”

“I meant what I said, you know?”

“Hmm?”

They had gotten down to the lazy, delighted moments of the evening, standing together in the shower, Buck slotted easily into Eddies arms. They were taking advantage of the last twenty minutes they had together before Chris came home, and needless to say, neither of them were exactly jumping at the idea of wearing pants again.

“We love having you here, Chris and I. And we really do hate it when you leave because you think that you have to, or you think that you’re intruding, or you think… well, whatever else that you’re thinking.”

“Eddie…”

Buck turned in his arms, pushing his wet hair back, but Eddie smothered any chance of a self depreciating comment by pressing their lips together. He didn’t pull back until he knew Buck would be breathless, panting, and dazed, and it probably wasn’t fair to fight that way, but Eddie couldn’t handle another comment about how much of a bother Buck perceived himself.

“You’re home to me, Buck. Chris too. He loves you and he looks up to you, and you drive me crazy thinking that you could be anything but welcome in our lives. Buck, I want you to move in with us. Stay. Forever.”

There was a time and a place where Buck’s self doubt would have run rampant faced with a confession like that—hell, Buck 1.0 wouldn’t even have allowed a relationship to get that far—but somehow, looking up at Eddie, nothing could be more perfect.

“You’re home to me too, Eddie.” He started, softly, a smile on his face. “And if you and Chris really wouldn’t mind—“

“It’s not just that we wouldn’t mind, though. It’s what we want. We want you to live with us, sweetheart.”

“… well, I’ve never been good at denying anything my Diaz boys want, have I?”

(Over dinner, Buck had nervously approached the topic with Chris, because no matter how sure Eddie was, Buck had to hear it for himself.

Chris got so excited he almost threw up.

Eddie considered everything about that night as a win—but the best part of all was the price, Buck, beautiful Buck, waiting for him in his—no, in their bed.)

#buddie #911 #flospeaks #edmundo diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #911onfox #fic prompt #soft fics #found family #I love them both so much #buddiefic #mutually assured devotion

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your-kpopmama · 4 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day, Kiss My Ass!!

Words: 5,390 Drama, slight angst, a good ending A/N: it’s me! back again with a holiday special.

If you asked anyone to describe Jeon Jungkook in one word, it would always be “loyal”. He was loyal to his friends, his family, and most especially his girlfriend of 7 years, Elodie. Jungkook had met Elodie on a trip with his family when he was 18. Both of their families had seemingly booked the same tour package of Paris. So for a week straight, Elodie and Jungkook were quite literally inseparable.

Both being freshly 18, they had quite a lot in common, even if Jungkook’s english wasn’t amazing. They still managed to communicate and enjoy each other’s company while their parents enjoyed the wine at every destination.

Somewhere between The Louvre and Versailles, they found an indescribable attraction.

Now, most would say distance would ruin a friendship or relationship, considering Jungkook lived in Busan, South Korea and Elodie lived in some midwestern town in Michigan whose claim to fame was the worlds largest Cherry Pie. However, both of them being determined to form a friendship, made it seem as easy as that cherry pie her hometown was known for.

It didn’t take more than a year for them to realize they both wanted more than friendship, thus they began their journey of a life together. There were many flights between the two, Michigan to Seoul; Seoul to Michigan. Late night phone calls from someone just waking up. Conflicting schedules and many times where they wondered if it would work.

It only took Elodie two years to decide she couldn’t handle the distance. So she packed her life up, said goodbye to the folks, and moved clear across the world to be with the love of her life. Unbeknownst to him, since he had just entered his military service to get it out of the way. With the help of his parents, Elodie found a nice apartment not far from their house.

When Jungkook was discharged, the first face he saw upon leaving was hers. The love that surged through him struck him almost breathless. He loved her with his whole being.

It took one year for them to officially move in together once Jungkook finished school.

One more year before Jungkook popped the big question during the Jinju Lantern Festival that Elodie had begged him to take her to. Of course, Elodie said yes.

Six more months to plan a move to Seoul for a job that Elodie had gotten at an entertainment company as a translator - Jungkook was the best teacher.

And one more year for Elodie to gain some of her closest friends and Jungkook to score his dream job as a physical therapist.

It’s obvious to anyone that Jungkook is loyal.

—————————

“Elodie!” A shout from across the cafeteria pulled Elodie’s attention from the book in her hand to the small blonde boy bounding towards her with a tall red headed woman in tow.

“Jimin! Lani!” Elodie greeted, marking her page before setting her book aside.

Jimin and Lani were two of the people closest to Elodie at work, and two of her very good friends. They had taken Elodie under their wings so to say when she arrived at Big Hit. Jimin and Lani worked as stylists but were on the same team for a boy group called Wild, that had just debuted when she started. Jimin had already been there for two years and Lani was finishing up her first year. If it weren’t for those two, Elodie was almost certain she wouldn’t have survived the hectic schedules.

Jimin sat across from Elodie as Lani took the spot beside her closest friend. “Today has been crazy!” Jimin whined, reaching for Elodie’s untouched coffee.

“Tell me about it, Wild is getting a bit...wild these days. It’s hard to keep up with them in interviews.” Elodie laughed, pushing the cup into Jimin’s searching hand.

“Girl, do not get me started!” Lani chimed in, shaking her head, “if I get one more fan complaint about them all wearing the same clothes I may scream. I can’t just go to the dorms everyday and dress them.” She scoffed and reached for the cup too, “they act like don’t own a thousand and a half outfits.” She finished.

“I wonder where they get it from.” Jimin mused, reaching once again for the now community cup of coffee the three of them were sharing.

Elodie had to suppress a laugh because she knew exactly where they got their bad habit from. The three of them often shared food, drinks, and Jimin and Elodie shared clothes here and there when they were out on long schedules.

That was always something that amused Jungkook to no end, Elodie coming home in a borrowed shirt or pants from Jimin if there were unforeseen circumstances at work. The most recent one being Daniel and Hyun were arguing over who got the last strawberry milk and when Elodie stepped in to hand them one she had found in the cooler, Hyun had swung his arms out and slapped the open milk container and covered her from head to toe in the pink milk. A story Jungkook spent half an hour laughing about as he helped Elodie clean the dry milk from her hair.

Lani’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out with a groan, “what did those troublemakers do now?” She said mostly to herself. Her expression changed from annoyed to something Elodie couldn’t quite place. “Ah, I have to take this call.” She said and got up and all but ran from the table.

“Geez, what’s her problem these days?” Jimin huffed, his attention now on the half eaten cinnamon roll in front of Elodie.

Elodie shrugged and pushed the plate to Jimin, offering him the rest of the delicious pastry. “Who knows. I think she might be seeing someone. I caught her talking in the women’s room the other day and she got all flustered and ran from the room.” Elodie wasn’t one to gossip, but whoever has the red heads attention, has to be one hell of a guy and Elodie was curious.

Jimin frowned into the cinnamon roll and didn’t speak anymore until their allotted lunch hour was over.

Elodie made a note that she hadn’t seen Lani for the rest of the day.

—————————

If you asked anyone, they would tell you Jungkook would go to the moon and back for his fiancée.

So on this particular afternoon, when Elodie was running late because of a translation mishap with Wild, she had to call her fiancé for a favor. Nothing major, something seemingly harmless.

“Hello?” Elodie spoke into the phone when she heard someone pick up. A beat passed before Jungkook’s voice rang through.

“Elodie? What’s up? Aren’t you at work?” His voice sounded worried.

“Yeah, I have a quick favor. And before you say no, please just hear me out.” She rushed.

Jungkook urged her to continue, “can you pick Lani up from the train station for me? I’m gonna be running behind and I told her I would pick her up when she got back.” The other end of the phone was silent until Jungkook drew in a breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can pick her up.” He agreed easily than Elodie had planned.

“I know you two don’t get along very well, but I can’t get out of work. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.” Elodie murmured.

“Love, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I had to head that way anyway for a few errands so I don’t mind since it’s for you.” He said sweetly.

Elodie felt her love for Jungkook grow a little bigger as they said their goodbyes and she got back to work.

“You’re awfully brave.” a voice called from behind her.

Elodie turned her head and saw the oldest member of Wild standing in the doorway. “Thank you, Wooyoung. I think?” Elodie seemed unsure of how she was to take that statement.

Crossing the floor and plopping down on the overstuffed chair next to Elodie’s, Wooyoung watched her for a moment before speaking up again, “Do you really trust Lani with your fiancée?” He questioned.

Elodie’s head snapped in his direction and started laughing, “Wooyoung! Of course I do. She’s my best friend and Jungkook is my fiancé. Why wouldn’t I trust them?” She thought the idea was absolutely ridiculous that she wouldn’t.

“I’ve seen a lot of unloyal dogs in my day, even the most loyal can change if a nice pair of tits walk by.” Wooyoung explained, dead serious.

“Who has nice tits?” Jimin called walking into the room with Hyun and Daniel behind him.

Elodie caught the three up on the short conversation between her and Wooyoung. “He’s not wrong, Miss Elodie.” Daniel chimed in. “Men are dogs.”

Elodie exchanged a look with Jimin before the two burst out laughing, “honestly, where do you boys come up with this stuff?” Elodie questioned.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Hyun said before heading out with the rest of the boys, leaving Jimin alone with Elodie. The two sat in a thoughtful silence for a while as Elodie went over the notes she had on the last interview with the boys to figure out what she had messed up.

“How long have you and Jungkook been together?” Jimin asked.

“Seven years or so,” Elodie answered absentmindedly, her eyes staying on the paper.

She didn’t see the pained look Jimin had on his face, mixed with guilt.

————————————

Elodie and Lani’s friendship didn’t start out easy. Granted even if Lani had been the one to show Elodie the ropes, they had conflicting personalities and interests. Elodie was quiet and soft spoken and enjoyed reading and coffee. Lani was loud and outgoing and enjoyed drinking on weeknights and hooking up with anyone who caught her eye.

Of course, Elodie had been jealous of Lani at first, wishing she had the body or the confidence the red head had to live life to the max. But it had also been Lani who told her that even Elodie’s way of living was living brightly. There was no wrong way to live your life as long as you were doing what you enjoyed.

So when Elodie had brought Lani home to meet Jungkook, she was shocked that the two didn’t get along at all. Jungkook was the first to outright say it, that Lani wasn’t a good person. No explanation. And Lani had glared daggers at Jungkook all night. No explanation.

Elodie felt torn because she didn’t want to be in a position where she had to pick, because at the end of the day it would always be Jungkook; and the two knew that. Quietly accepting her defeat, Lani had told Elodie that she would never force her into a situation where she would have to tell Lani to hit the road. The only thing Jungkook and Lani could agree upon was that they would put up with one another, for Elodie’s sake.

Now, Elodie gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of her apartment. Her black hair hung straight over her shoulders, and her once vibrant green eyes seemed dull in the soft yellow lighting of the tiny room. Her cheeks were smaller than they had been just six months ago, and her skin seemed paler than usual. One thing she knew for sure was that she needed some sleep. She would worry about her beauty later.

Returning to the living room she found Jungkook and Lani in an intense discussion over the coffee table where Elodie had left them. Upon hearing her return the two sat back and easy smiles replaced the tense looks that they sported moments ago.

“Everything okay?” Elodie asked cautiously while returning to her seat next to Jungkook.

“Peachy.” her fiancé gritted between his teeth.

Lani gave Elodie a sad smile and went back to picking at her slice of pizza.

Elodie knew everything wasn’t peachy.

————————————

If you were to ask anyone to describe Elodie, you would get several answers. Answers that ranged from “sweet” to “caring” all the way to “saintly”. Elodie had a big heart, and an even bigger heart for those she held most dear.

Lani and Jimin trailed behind Elodie as she browsed the racks of clothes in the department store. One of them offering fashion advice here or there in her endeavor to pick out the perfect gift for Jungkook for Valentine’s Day.

He had basically everything he could ever want, but Elodie still wanted to get him something nice; something special. Jimin had advised getting him a fancy new coat. Lani had suggested getting something more spicy for the bedroom. Both were good ideas, and Elodie was currently shopping for them.

Since she was too embarrassed to shop for the “something spicy” with her friends, she asked if they would tag along and help her pick out the coat.

“Does he truly deserve this though?” Jimin said out of the blue, his brown eyes never leaving the rack of coats he was currently picking through.

“What do you mean?”, Elodie laughed, “of course he does. He’s been so solid through this last six months in my hectic schedule. He’s been practically a saint.”

“A saint is what I would call you, Elodie, not your fiancé.” Jimin grumbled.

Lani elbowed him in the side and gave him a look Elodie couldn’t quite place. Jimin looked at her and spoke a mumbled apology before moving onto the next rack.

“Pay him no attention, girl. He’s just a little pent up.” Lani giggled into Elodie’s ear. “Oh! What about this one?” Lani picked up a long wool coat. It was black and had gold buttons down the front and at the cuffs of the sleeves. It wasn’t flashy but by no means was it plain; it was exactly Jungkook’s style.

“God! That would be perfect!” Elodie grabbed the coat and held it up to look at it closer, marveling at the quality. She knew she had to get it.

Lani tried to hide the proud smile behind her hand, but Jimin saw it and she rushed to Elodie’s side and out of Jimin’s eyesight.

————————————

If you asked anyone he worked with, they would say Jimin was hopelessly in love with Elodie. Everyone knew it. Except Elodie.

She was too wrapped up in her loving and loyal fiancé to notice the longing stares of one Park Jimin. He wasn’t shy about his distaste for Jungkook and he definitely wasn’t shy to show his feelings for Elodie, but he would never outright say it. See, Jimin had fallen for Elodie when she started at the company; love at first sight. Ever since then he made it his goal to bend over backwards for the petite girl.

When he found out she was engaged, it may have caused a falter in his step on his quest to make his way into her heart; but by no means did it stop him. He wasn’t pushy. He didn’t overstep boundaries. And he definitely didn’t make anything awkward. But he did make it a point to always be there when Elodie needed someone to talk to.

His love for her however, has caused him great misfortune. A while back, Jimin saw something he shouldn’t have seen. God, why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one to see it? He had information that could seal the deal and be in Elodie’s heart - but that information was a double edged sword. It could bring him and Elodie closer, or it could put her farther away.

Jimin was selfish, and he knew that. So for now, he sat with this information. Whether or not he chooses to use it has remained to be seen.

————————————

Elodie was busy at work as usual. Her phone constantly going off as she answered calls in regards to certain interviews Wild had lined up. She hadn’t been able to go home in almost 48 hours, and it was starting to get to her.

Despite the crazy schedule happening, she kept note of how many times Lani would sneak off with her own phone, a smirk plastered to her face, to return ten minutes later looking a little dazed. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jimin either.

A deep frown was set into his features when Lani came back to the dressing room after twenty-two minutes (Jimin had timed it). “Jesus, Lani. Get it together will you? We have fifteen minutes before the boys go live and you’ve hardly been present! Get their outfits and help them dress.” Jimin barked at her, pausing his movements so he didn’t burn Wooyoung with the flat iron.

Lani’s head snapped in his direction, a retort on the tip of her tongue before she decided better of it. Elodie watched as she sat her phone on the vanity and disappeared in the racks of clothes, angrily picking out the appropriate outfits.

Elodie tried to help Jimin as best as she could, but the most she was qualified for was adding a light gloss to the boys’ lips.

Lani handed each boy their clothes and dressed them quickly before they were called to the stage for the interview. Everyone filed from the room and made a beeline to be on standby.

“Shoot! I forgot the mics! I’ll be quick!” Elodie shouted, waving down Jimin who gave a thumbs up and hurried off the everyone else.

Elodie made her way through the dressing room until she found the box she was looking for. Lani’s phone was ringing and Elodie glanced at it. “My Baby🥵💋” flashed across the screen.

Without thinking, she answered the phone, “hello?”

“Baby girl, you’ve kept me waiting too long.” A voice rang through.

Elodie’s heart dropped to her stomach, “what?” She breathed out.

“Come over after work tomorrow. Elodie won’t be here, she’s working over time. We can spend our first Valentine’s Day together.”

That was Jungkook. No doubt about it. Panicked, Elodie tried to disguise her voice as best as possible, “Sorry, Lani is busy. She left her phone.”

“Oh?! Oh, god. I’m sorry.” Jungkook hurried and hung up. Elodie stood still for a few seconds, her head reeling and her heart pounding.

“Elodie? Hey, are you okay?” Jimin ran through the room to Elodie’s side. He glanced at her hand and saw Lani’s phone and the grief and confusion on her face.

Jimin knew that Elodie had probably figured it out, but now was not the time to touch base on it. They had work to do.

Gently prying the phone from her hands and guiding her to the stage, Jimin sent up a silent prayer that she would never know that he knew.

————————————

Elodie’s next three hours flashed by in a mere second. She couldn’t concentrate on the interview and Jimin had to save her a couple of times in her headset to keep her focused. Her mind never wavering from the phone call.

Her eyes never leaving an anxious looking Lani, who kept checking the time on her wrist watch and visibly getting more agitated as the interviews went on.

When they barely managed to finish, Elodie dropped all of her things into Jimin’s arms and took off for the dressing room. Quickly gathering her purse and coat, she made haste to get home. A quick phone call to her boss asking for tomorrow off since she wasn’t “feeling well” and a shabby plan in place, Elodie headed into her apartment.

“Baby, is that you?” Jungkook called from the bedroom.

“Who else would it be?” Elodie snapped back. Ten seconds passed before Jungkook poked his head out from the bedroom doorway, confusion written on his face.

“You okay?”

Elodie couldn’t help but think that his concern was fake, but a part of her still believed that he would never do something as heinous as she thought he was doing even if the evidence so far said so.

“Peachy.” She kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the bathroom. Running a steaming bath she allowed herself to emerge herself into the water, letting her body relax.

She laid there for several minutes before the sound of the doorbell chiming broke her from her thoughts. Listening she could hear Jungkook talking to someone in a rushed tone. Curious she got out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself and walked into the hallway.

At the front door was Lani, looking at Jungkook like he was something to be eaten. Elodie felt anger surge through her body. Holding her head high, she walked behind Jungkook.

Lani noticed her presence first, her sultry stare turning into shock and then to fear. Jungkook turned around and saw Elodie standing there with a puzzled look on her face. “Jungkook, I’ve been waiting for you forever in the shower.” Elodie said sweetly.

“O-oh? Oh! I’m sorry. The doorbell...” he trailed off unsure of how to reply.

“Lani? Is everything okay? Did I leave something at work?” She feigned ignorance.

“Uh, yeah! Actually. But I was just telling Jungkook that I forgot it with my stuff and just remembered when I got here. I’m so sorry to disturb you guys. I know you haven’t been home in over two days and probably want some alone time with Kook.” Lani sheepishly said.

Kook.

She called him Kook.

“What was it?” Elodie pressed.

“Hm?” Lani asked.

“What was it that I left at work?”

Lani’s cheeks turned bright red and had the decency to looked ashamed, “a-anyway look I need to go. You guys enjoy each other tonight.” just as quickly as she showed up, she was gone.

Elodie watched Jungkook close the door in silence, marveling at the boldness of her best friend. Showing up here while Elodie was home to try and flirt with her fiancé. Jungkook’s eyes met hers and guilt was laid in them so deep, Elodie felt herself drowning in it.

Without another word, Elodie returned to her bath.

————————————

Elodie didn’t like to lie, she didn’t like to create a fuss. She liked to be straightforward and get problems out of the way. In this situation however, she felt she had no other choice but to lie. She still couldn’t believe the facts that were laid out in front of her, so she devised a plan to make sure once and for all.

She left for “work” at her normal time and headed to the cafe a few shops down from her and Jungkook’s apartment. It gave her the perfect view of the entrance so she could keep watch for Lani.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the long wait time. She entered the cafe at 8:15 AM and it was now nearing 11:54AM. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait it out or if she even had to wait. She was starting to feel ridiculous.

Another twenty minutes of waiting produced something interesting, Jimin had stepped into the cafe. He didn’t spot her at first as he made his way toward the counter, but it was peculiar to Elodie that he was here; this cafe was on the other side of town from his apartment.

Elodie watched him and waited for him to turn around and she waved him down. To say the least, the shock on his face was genuine. Their eyes held each other’s gaze for a solid five seconds before a smile dropped onto his lips and he made his way to Elodie’s table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Elodie stated, taking a long sip of her boba.

“I was in the neighborhood.” Jimin said cautiously.

Silence hung between them like a thick curtain, both lost in their own thoughts. Jimin broke the silence first. “Listen, Elodie. I have something to confess.”

Her eyes met his and she gave a slight nod to continue. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you. It pains me to say that, please believe me, considering what the secret entails.” He took a long pause to gather his thoughts and Elodie waited for him patiently, still keeping an eye on the front entrance of her apartment building.

“I actually came here today to work up the courage to tell you what I’m about to say. I wasn’t in the neighborhood.” He confessed.

“I figured that much out so far..” Elodie mumbled.

Jimin huffed a sigh and steeled his nerves, “I caught Lani and -“

Before Jimin could finish, Elodie caught the red hair of the current topic heading for the front doors of the apartment building across the street. Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt her stomach recoil. “Sorry, Jimin, I have to go.” she rushed the words from her mouth as she took off out of the cafe.

Jimin watched her run down the sidewalk and disappear into her building. “Oh, for fucks sake.” He whispered and took off after her.

————————————

Elodie wasn’t sure what she was going to walk into. She was hoping Lani just magically had a friend in this same building, on the same floor as her and Jungkook. But as she looked at what floor the elevator had stopped on, she couldn’t convince herself of anything anymore.

Slamming her hand onto the call button, she began to panic. Her breathing became erratic, and her vision slightly blurry. Once the doors opened she stumbled in and hit the button she needed and leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath.

“Elodie!”

Elodie’s head snapped up and saw Jimin rushing towards her. She pressed herself further into the wall as he came crashing into the elevator as the doors were closing.

“Jimin? What the hell?” She felt all the air leave her lungs in shock.

“Elodie, please do not go upstairs. I am begging you.” Jimin gathered her own shaking hands into his, holding tightly and pleading with his eyes.

“No, I have to.” She reasoned.

Jimin shook his head and groaned in frustration, “Elodie we both know what’s waiting up there.”

It was then she realized what Jimin had to confess to her earlier. He knew about Lani and Jungkook. But for how long? How long had he known? Surely just as recent as her, because Jimin would have told her. He’s a good friend.

So was Lani.

Elodie pulled her hands from his and stood up tall, throwing up her guard. “We can discuss how you knew and when you found out later, but right now I need to confirm it with my own two eyes. So if you are here to warn Lani or stop me, then please do not get off this elevator once it stops.”

Jimin’s hands fell to his side and nodded in compliance. He had to make this up to her somehow, and he would start by doing as she said.

The bell dinged signifying they arrived. Elodie gave Jimin an odd look before walking off the elevator. He followed behind her silently and prayed Lani had enough sense to not make this difficult.

————————————

The loud moans and the soft grunting beyond her bedroom door clued Elodie in quickly to her worst nightmare. Lani’s shoes by the front door and their clothes dropped precariously throughout the house just set her sense of dread deeper into her chest. Jimin had decided to stay in the living room at her request, but she wondered if she should have kept him by her side for support.

Her hand lay gently on the door handle, pausing quickly before pushing it down and sliding the door open to a dimly lit room. Her presence wasn’t yet discovered, luckily for her.

Elodie’s heart thrummed inside her ribcage, her stomach dropped and her knees felt weak - her head remained clear. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the jacket she bought for Jungkook laid sloppily on the floor amongst the wrapping paper it was in.

“Ah, Kook! That feels so fucking good!” Lani’s shrill moans brought Elodie’s attention back to them. Before she could even make a coherent thought she spoke,

“Oh yeah, Lani? Does it feel good? Does my fiancé MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD?!” Her hand flew to the wall to slap the light switch, illuminating the room.

Jungkook’s head whipped around so fast Elodie was sure it would snap. Shock and horror reflected on Lani and Jungkook’s faces as they scrambled to move away from each other.

“Babe..” Jungkook choked out, stumbling towards Elodie’s stilled body.

Ignoring Jungkook entirely, she made her way to the bed where Lani sat covered in the sheets. Ripping them off and tossing them to the floor, Elodie pointed her finger to the bedroom door, “Get the fuck out, bitch.”

Lani’s jaw dropped and Elodie screamed, “NOW!” and sent her into motion. She ran from the room and Elodie could hear the surprise from her when she saw Jimin in the living room - she would deal with that later.

“Get some fucking clothes on.” She spat at Jungkook and walked into the living room to see Lani struggling to get dressed. “Don’t even think of trying to leave when you finish.”

Lani slipped her dress on and sat meekly on the couch next to Jimin, both wearing guilty faces. When Jungkook finally emerged from the bedroom, she nodded at the space beside Lani and he sat down quickly.

Elodie just stood in the middle of the living room trying to collect her thoughts. Jungkook started to speak and she snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Jeon Jungkook.” she seethed, “are you three having fun? Huh? Is it fun for you to do shady shit behind my back and think I would never find out? HUH?!”

Three pairs of eyes were on her and she felt like suffocating, “Lani, I never want to see you again.” She continued.

“Jimin, I need to know how long you have known.” She pressed, her eyes boring into his.

“Four months.” He answered honestly. “I wanted to tell you, Elodie, I-“

“Then you should have.” She said bluntly. “And you, of all fucking people, Jungkook.”

He had the decency to look ashamed, and had the smarts to keep his mouth shut. “I want all of you out. Get the hell out of my apartment and the hell out of my life.”

Jimin and Lani didn’t need to be told twice, the two jumped up and ran towards the door, but Jungkook remained seated. “This is my apartment too, Elodie.” He mumbled.

“Fine, then I will leave.” She decided, but Jungkook grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Can we please talk this out? I’m so sorry, Elodie. Please let me make this up to you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“When did you stop loving me? Hm? Before or after you started fucking my best friend?” She questioned.

“I still love you, with all of my heart. Baby please understand that.” his desperate pleas had no effect on Elodie, “it’s Valentine’s Day.” He whined.

“Oh! Oh my god you’re right!” Elodie gently smacked her forehead in feign shock, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” Jungkook grinned up at her, “kiss my ass!”

Elodie pulled loose from his grip and strode towards the front door, Jungkook shouting after her. Ignoring him she stepped out into the hall and slammed the door.

Breaking into tears, she leaned against the front door letting them fall down her face. “Elodie?”

Jimin walked slowly towards her, looking defeated, “I know you don’t want to ever see me or Lani again, but I just wanted to let you know we both called the agency and requested transfers. You shouldn’t have to quit your job or move on from the boys, you have done so much for them and they would be more said if you left than us.”

Elodie nodded gently and stood up straight, “Thank you, Jimin. And you are right, I don’t think I can ever be friends with you or Lani again, but I do hope you both find success and happiness.”

Jimin felt his heart clench at her words as they both headed towards the elevator. They rode down in silence and went different directions once outside.

“I’m strong. I can do this.” Elodie whispered to herself. And she was - and she could.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #park jimin #jimin #bts #bts au #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts valentines day #valentines day fic #original character fic #angst #drama #angst fic #drama fic #holiday fic

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onyourzeus · 4 years ago

Text

• beat of my heart | ydw

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: beat of my heart pairing: yoon dowoon (of day6) & you genre: fluff, non-idol!au, college!au words: 4.3k

author’s note: finally, a dowoon fic that i thoroughly enjoyed writing (hence how long it is) it went on a different track than planned, but isn’t that how most of my fics are turning out to be? lol. please do enjoy!

this dot fic is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: wonpil (currently only have 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there isn’t a lot that occupies dowoon’s mind. he gets classified as an introvert by people who have known him for years but this doesn’t mean too much for him

sure, he likes to keep to himself and only open up to people he’s trusted for a while which… is the kind of life he wants to lead

with that being said, other things that goes under Dowoon’s Approved Interests would be: playing the drums, playing a ton of games, and… animals

upon entering college, he wondered if he’d have the free time to care for animals just like when he was younger, volunteering at the nearest animal shelter in which everyone who worked there knew who he was

and always regarded him as the shy little boy but also borderline an animal whisperer. it gave dowoon lots of fun memories to look back on his childhood, and for a moment he considered studying veterinary science to continue his passion for loving dogs cats and everything in between

but another love of his life was introduced in first year high school, and that is the drums. as his social circle expanded (as much as he permitted it to, so not by a lot), so did his club activities in music and even playing as a filler in different bands became his priority (next to academics)

he still visited the shelter from time to time, it wasn’t something he could just drop so easily; bonding with stray-turned-angelic pets waiting for their forever family was his form of therapy, in a way, when music got too complicated at times or when he’s struggling with a class

and then there’s playing league or overwatch or pubg to release stress in a more high-energy fashion

so when the time came that he needed to choose a major, the first thing that came into mind was music theory. he wanted to get better at playing drums, understanding notes, and improving his performance skills overall

he’s experienced frustration over figuring out the rhythm for certain songs he liked to play before, so this is what made him decide that music is the type of interest he’d want to pursue as a career

and bonding with animals… well, would be just that. this way, he doesn’t get burnt out with the one hobby he feels much peace with. his happy place, if you will

so imagine dowoon’s surprise when he learnt of a volunteering organization on campus that caters to helping out local animal shelters on the weekends. literally what he has been doing since he was a wee lad

it was perfect timing to have passed by the club booth during intro week, he already planned on auditioning for the established bands on campus (day6 sounds like a perfect fit for him, tbh) but he hadn’t reached that level of confidence with his drumming skills yet

distracting himself with going to the shelter every so often would help him leave the dorm for a bit (his roommate ha subtly asked many a times for him to ease off of the mouse clicking during the late hours of the night and shouting, “gg” over and over)

the first few times he went to the org’s events at the shelter, it was… a little awkward

one, he didn’t know anybody and two, he isn’t exactly the cute little shy 10 year old he once was that knew every auntie and uncle in his small town.

and everyone else in the event… already seems to know each other. dowoon recognizes the guy who handed him a flyer talking to the animal shelter coordinators up in the front. he had been lost in the crowd of his peers that he has no idea what’s going on

he just wants to pet sum dogs and play laser pointers with cats, is that too much to ask for?

suddenly, everyone had dispersed into groups and apparently you choose where you want to be included in

great, dowoon is just smiling awkwardly to himself as he feels the tips of his ears blush bright red

“hi! dowoon, right? do you have a group to join?” he whips his head to the sound of your voice, just a few feet ahead of him. he’s confused as to why you knows his name, so he points to himself and feels the flimsy paper nametag attached by double-sided tape on his shirt

oh, duh. they had the new prospective members do it a while ago

he sees your name too, and remembers it in the back of his head like a prayer

dowoon shakes his head, perpetually shy and blushing hard now. you feel a sense of guilt singling him out like that in the crowd, so you approach him more closely and signal to follow you

“i’m part of the board members, and we don’t have enough people in our group so you can come join us!” as publicity chair, it is your duty to make others feel comfortable and welcomed in the org. and this is your time to shine

“we’re looking at some bigger doggos today, do you have any pets, dowoon?” you try to make polite introductions as you lead the group to where you’re assigned. like a lost puppy on his own, dowoon follows suit. he’s grateful for some guidance, and actually seeing the animals calm him down for a moment

and it doesn’t feel like everyone’s staring at him anymore as he hears chit-chatting surrounding the place

so he focuses his attention on you instead, and he somewhat regrets it

he’s not those guys who don’t have girl friends, but most of the friendships he’s formed with them are due to the fact that he was introduced by a mutual friend

so dowoon is, how do you say it, entranced by the way you talk about your first big dog in the house

and the two that followed after, and how you stopped playing with your friends from the neighborhood

because all you needed in life were your golden retrievers and newfoundland

dowoon finds himself sharing his own childhood experiences of spending time at a shelter, but never having a dog of his own

“family allergies,” he shrugs and you pout for him in frustration

wow, he’s never seen someone so invested by the fact that he never got to own a pet for himself

“well, dowoon,” you tell him as you’re approaching the section of big dogs, “i hope you enjoy your time here. this is one of the biggest shelters near campus, and fortunately a lot of dogs and cats get adopted every month!”

your enthusiasm for #adoptdontshop makes dowoon feel excited again, he’s just itching to be back doing what calms him down in a therapeutic sense

you instruct the other members to join in a pair or a trio to assist the shelter coordinators with grooming some of the dogs and going for their scheduled walks

this makes dowoon suddenly panic inwardly again, why does everything have to be done in groups?

“want to come with me?” you ask him in the middle of his inner monologue. you’re met with a look of surprise similar to how he reacted when you called out his name just a few minutes prior

“me? you’re not partnering with anyone else?” you shake your head, “as you can tell, they’ve already made up their minds. you’re one of the only new people i saw come to our event today, so i’ll be glad to show you around!” and you genuinely are. it’s rare to see a newbie look so obviously excited to be here, let alone by themselves

usually the people you’ve come to know who join your events are just there for the instagram stories or a pseudo-date of some sorts. you’re happy they’re helping out the shelter with taking care of the pets even for a few hours in the day, but their intentions lie far and beyond with what you have in mind joining the org

however, having approached dowoon and giving him your usual spiel on your love for dogs— he was actually listening and nodding along to the right moments!!! it was so refreshing, especially with the way he’s just excitedly tapping his feet right now awaiting where you’ll lead him next

“oh, let’s hang out with lady! she’s actually going to be adopted soon, but i want you to meet her,” you lead dowoon to one of the bigger stalls on the right where lady was. you call out to her, and immediately you see a tail of a fawn colored pitbull sway back and forth

she comes near you first, sniffing and licking at your petting hands. lady senses dowoon standing idly by your side, and you’re about to tell him how to approach the dog when dowoon does it for himself

he bends down to her level, lifts up a loosely closed fist and lets lady smell her first. “hi lady, nice to meet you. my name is dowoon,” he coos at her, finally lady lets him in her space as her tail wags even faster

“that’s amazing,” you point out, “we had a really hard time teaching her to trust new people”

dowoon shrugs, grinning while he’s at it and you can tell how modest he’s trying to be. but the way he’s rubbing lady’s belly and chuckling at her snorts make you believe that dowoon knows what he’s doing. and he’s enjoying it to the fullest

“thank you for trusting me, miss lady,” dowoon tells the dog who has completely fallen in love with him too. you just watch him, in awe of the scene before you until dowoon looks your way

he catches you having a weird, goofy smile and so you fake cough your way as an excuse and tuck a hair beneath your ear. “does she need to go for a walk?” he asks you, tone inquisitive and hands busy petting lady much to her delight

“we can, y-yeah,” you find yourself a little out of breath, so out of the ordinary for you. but you comply to his wish and ask the coordinator for lady’s leash and the record book.

and that’s kinda how you and dowoon started hanging out a lot on the weekends. after that first event you met him, you’re quick to tell him about the incoming ones the org has for the following weeks (albeit some were supposed to be a secret, you couldn’t resist) and that you’ll be really happy if he came

for the pets, of course

dowoon had informed you that he’s trying to join a band on campus, so he might not be at every event you described. although he’ll do his best, for all the other dogs and cats he hasn’t met yet. you become curious about the guy, but not enough confidence to ask about this band or anything other than his love for animals

so for the next few weeks of the semester, whenever you get to lead an event you’re always looking for a shy boy in the crowd. and 80% of the time, dowoon comes through

there are instances when the other board members ask you to proceed with a diff group or a diff task, and before they can sweep dowoon away from your group…

“ah, actually he’s interested in becoming my intern, so i think it’s best to keep him under my wing!”

“we’re doing interns??? now?? i thought we canceled that—”

“he’s just interested, nothing too serious or finalized but yep— ah, dowoon, over here!”

what a save, and gladly dowoon didn’t hear

he’s actually formed a few acquaintances within the returning members, and it makes you proud to see him come out of his shell a lil

even if you don’t know much about him yet, just his major and the band he’s trying out for (which is looking very good, in his terms) as long as dowoon voluntarily wants to attend the events, it’s a success to you

“who are we meeting today chief?” dowoon would tease you once the event has started, and it’s becoming a running theme in your guys’ greetings

hmm, you decide, major,” is what you’d call him (as you squeal and squirm involuntarily inside) “bathing ole’ mister winston or trying to teach tiny toffee how to sit and stay for more than two seconds?”

dowoon visibly shudders, remembering the time the english mastiff mister winston slobbered him so much as a form of thanks for keeping him squeaky clean, and you basically laughed at his face for 15 seconds straight

“let’s teach toffee some tricks today,” he relents as you already knew the answer but wanted to see reactions of his flashbacks

you’re not sure if any one of the board members have noticed your particular liking to dowoon. if they did no one said a word because the whole point of the organization is

to have fun with animals and prepare them well for their furr-ever home, which is what you and dowoon love doing together. there’s a kind of synergy that you feel being with dowoon and working with one dog

dowoon knows more techniques on how to calm down anxious dogs than you’ve ever learned being in the org

you have to admit sometimes you’re still skittish, jumping from loud sounds or yelping in response to mister winston pawing at you (and his paws are bigger than your face)

or maybe it’s the fact that dowoon is there teasing you instead, intentionally hiding from you when you need a helping hand only to return with a handful of kittens in his embrace. “sorry, they were calling out to me and i couldn’t resist.”

you’d roll your eyes and attempt to get upset, but the way his own shines and his shy giggle coming out of him when the kittens fight their way to nuzzle against his cheek— it’s harder than you thought

anyway, you tell yourself that you’re keeping dowoon by your side because the two of you learn a lot together, and the back and forth coordination you have with tougher to care for dogs makes the job easier, it’s really that. it really is

or maybe it’s more… because as the weeks go by and dowoon couldn’t come round the shelter on the weekends, he asks if you want to see him practice with the band he’s joined

unfortunately, a lot of the times clash with your events or other school related activities, so dowoon insists on sending you videos of him playing the drums

it was a wild ride of messages, to be honest, because at first the camera would just be showing the ceiling, and then it would be recording his shoes, then just the surface of a drum until the vibrations shake it off of wherever dowoon was putting his phone against

nevertheless, you’d listen to how he plays the instrument he truly loves, and it was another side of him that got you feeling enamored

the day has come that there was no event at the shelter, and dowoon alongside other day6 members were having a busking session on campus grounds

“i’ll record you this time, dowoon, you don’t have to rely on faulty angles and physics anymore,” you tell him minutes before the gig started. you’ve seen dowoon give off a positive, excited aura in the shelter, but being with his bandmates and sitting in front of his drums— you’re observing a different side of him

and it’s addicting. to watch

“oh, guys by the way, she’s the one i was telling you all about,” you hear dowoon tell his members while you stand on the side. a question mark pops in your head, what does he mean by that???

soon after, everyone introduces themselves to you and shakes your hand. and you’re stunned, having known their names before (courtesy of dowoon) but not really associating a face with it

“you didn’t tell me your friends are good looking,” you tease dowoon, “you’re hanging out with the right crowd,” you add, poking him on the side to watch his reaction

and you get what you wanted, ears blushing and hands shoving you away playfully

around you, a crowd has started forming and you notice people from the org watching on the sidelines too

posters fill up the air with names of the members— and even dowoon

huh, why does that hurt a little inside (maybe you should have made a poster too? you glance at dowoon to see him gazing upon the cheers of the crowd and perhaps his name in sharpie, enclosed in hearts by his supporters)

that hurt a little more too

you shake away the weird feeling, and remind yourself that you’re here to record him for the first time, and to listen to him play live

when they finally begun their performance, you became more speechless than you thought. you’ve gone to indie music gatherings before and have watched a couple of up and coming bands do their thing

but day6 is something else— and most especially, you know the drummer

the ones those girls behind you are screaming your ear off for

he’s a god with the drums, eyes closed in parts that require careful and soft beats but you see the fiery look in them once the song comes up to its peak

it was thrilling, it was a sight to behold. dowoon in his other element, another side of dowoon you’d love to get to know more of

you resist from screaming his name so that your recording doesn’t sound ugly (you’re sending it to him after all), but that doesn’t mean your heart isn’t beating as loud as the rhythm of his drums

a few times during the performance, you catch him looking at your direction, but you’re not sure so you just raise a thumbs up with one hand while the other holding your phone feels strained as they go on

it’s ok, it’s all for dowoon

an hour later, their set ended with a bang and girls and guys alike flock to the members to get a poster signed or something else of theirs (dowoon had already given you a pre-signed poster. friendship benefits?)

you didn’t want to leave without congratulating him for a very successful first gig, so you sit by the benches. a little farther away from the platform where they performed to give yourself fresh air, and understand why your heart continues to pound so hard and so fast

and the cheers for dowoon’s name playing back in your mind

it’s the after show adrenaline, you tell yourself, rewinding the footage you recorded to pass the time

your mistake since it was all just dowoon

there were times when you “accidentally” zoomed it in his face, and kept it there. for minutes on end

god why does he smile like that, stop you’re hurting my HEART

“someone’s a fan,” a low, litling voice creeps up behind you

and your first instinct is to punch the invader of your personal space

which you did (albeit not as strongly as you wanted) but when realizing who received said punch…

“dowoon holy shit WHY WOULD YOU GO BEHIND ME LIKE THAT”

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR REACTION WOULD BE SO VIOLENT”

so uh, there you suddenly are

in the college’s nurse office

with the drummer of what seems to be a rising band on campus, dowoon

getting his bloody nose (literally) checked out, and asking him serious questions without you in the room

“did she really think i’d punch you like that???”

“i think it was really nice of her to look out for me, you know,” dowoon smirked, and the two of you had already come out of the office and you were ready to actually punch him for real this time

but you decline your desires because you still feel a bit guilty

a part of you knew it was dowoon, the voice was a dead giveaway, but you’re “logical reasoning” says you didn’t want him, nor anyone, to see you admiring his face on video. playing it on loop

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, cringing at the turn of events tonight “can you still make it to the band’s after dinner party? can you still eat with your nose like that?”

“you’re so weird,” dowoon replies, pinching the bridge of his nose as he elicits a short “ow” of pain, and you can’t help but feel so terrible

“ughhhhhh dowoon pls say i didn’t break your nose or else your fangirls will hate me”

“what”

“you heard me don’t make me say it again”

“say what again :)” at this point he’s just messing with you, his nose doesn’t look crooked anyway and he definitely knows there were girls fawning over him!!

“c’mon, i’ll pay for the uber to take you to the restaurant,” you urge, it’s the least you can do for physically hurting the person who seems to be confusing you what draws the line between being a friend and… potentially liking them more than that

dowoon doesn’t respond, just shakes his head no and walks alongside you

“what do you mean no???” you’re baffled, why would he decline such a good offer??

“no i’m not going to the dinner, it’s fine i get to see them every day,” he reasons out. he stretches his arms and evokes a yawn. “besides i’m pretty beat from the gig, so i’m just gonna crash back at the dorm”

you’re not convinced, what if he’s just pretending to be sleepy so he doesn’t bother you anymore? biting your lip, you contemplate on persuading him to go but buying his dinner (you’re not sure how that will work) until he stops in his tracks and

pinches your cheeks

to stop you from thinking as your eyes land on his

dowoon huffs, eyebrows creased with concern as he says, “you look like one of the dogs we fed last week who wanted more food in his bowl, but he doesn’t know he’s on a diet.”

he.. really compared u… to a dog????

“what do you mean by that,” you counter, cheeks heating up from the sensation of his fingers pinching at them. not too painful, but enough to consciously feel the pressure of his touch on your face

not to mention his focus is all on you

“you’re upset because i won’t give in to your apology gift,” he explains further. “but really, i’m fine. you didn’t break any bones, and you aimed for my nose. if it were my hands that got hurt then it’ll be a different story”

you groan outwardly, not knowing how to best him out of his logic

“c’mon the bus is coming soon, let’s call it a night,” he says, releasing your cheeks from his grasp and instead, tugging at your hand to follow his lead this time

you don’t let it go

once you enter the bus, dowoon finds an empty two seater and slides right in by the window seat, patting the one next to him. you reluctantly take the spot, still reeling from the way he held your hand so effortlessly, still confused about how you feel about him, still wanting to make it up to him

“is there an event tomorrow?” dowoon asks, escaping you out of your reverie. you churn your brain to think as this is a good opportunity to divert your attention somewhere else

“i believe so. i’m not leading the event, but it’s basically adoption day at the shelter. did you want to come?”

“of course, if you are”

“oh,” that caught you off guard… he can always come to events even if you aren’t, he’s a member now and he’s good friends with the other board members…

“if you’re not, then are you busy doing something?” he yawns again, eyes becoming droopier by the minute as the bus takes it leave

“not really… we can go… together,” you attempt to string coherent sentences together, but the sight of dowoon dozing off at the electric hum while the bus moves entrances you

his pale soft skin contrasts the tiredness in his voice, trying to keep himself away by answering you

“mm. yeah, i’d like to go with you...anywhere… with you,” he starts mumbling, head dangerously close to colliding against the window

silently, you chuckle. and admire the hardworking effort you’ve seen dowoon achieve so far, it makes you momentarily forget about figuring out your feelings

cause it’s kinda obvious with the way you’re seeing him right now, usually you’d tease him, take a picture for blackmail or even feel slightly awkward sitting in the bus next to each other

but right now, you admire him. and wish you can talk to him more about the band, about his dreams, about going to events “as long as it’s with you”

you hear him continuously mumble string of phrases that are incomprehensible at this point, and instead of making fun of the guy (you’ve done enough damage to his nose), you gently tell him, “sleep, dowoon. i’ll wake you up when your stop is here.”

“mmkay,” he gives in, breathes out heavily and

leans against you

resting his head on your shoulder, even making himself more comfy by nuzzling his cheek by the junction of your neck

in a way it sets your heart aflame

but on the outside, you feel at ease. that he can easily take the hit with his nose just mere moments ago and willingly let his head, and his mind rest for a little right by your side

you don’t have to wonder about your feelings anymore

you’d want this to happen more in the future, and hopefully

you’re just wishing upon a star here, that dowoon feels the same

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #day6 x reader #yoon dowoon imagines #yoon dowoon scenarios #yoon dowoon au #dot series #by:jiae

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