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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

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dreams H.H

🌸🏵️ Masterlist 🏵️🌸

Summery: you run into your ex boyfriend after having a reoccurring dream of him, he asks you to catch up and your finally able to let out your feelings about the past.

Warnings: Little angst, some fluff, smut (Oral F receiving, Unprotected sex) {wrap it up folks} Minors DNI

🥀

The first time you had the dream you brushed it off as nothing. He was a distant memory, one that you had no intention of revisiting. But the dream happened more than the one time, it was a frequent occurrence. And it always felt so real. There you were in a car, inside a car wash, his twin brother Sam next to you, talking like no time had passed, and then suddenly you were in a restaurant sat across from Sam, phone in hand and typing out a message to Harry, confessing the feelings you still felt, and then as soon as you saw his face you’d jolt awake. Every. Single. Time. Except tonight, once his face came into view in the little restaurant you could nearly feel yourself melt. Only a couple meters away, and he didn't even notice you.

“Y/N?” Your roommate and best friend said exasperatedly trying to get your attention.

“Huh? Sorry i uh…” your words trailed off as you glanced back over at where he was sitting, along with Sam. Realizing this was in fact NOT a dream.

“Is that Sam Holland from secondary?” She asked you, following your gaze to where the two boys sat. a small gasp left her lips as she ducked her head down. “Y/N, is that Harry?” All you could do was nod. Years had passed without seeing the curly haired boy, but the breakup still felt like a fresh wound.

He had been it, or you really thought he had. But then his brother landed a huge role, and he had to go with him, following along for press tours and things like that, leaving you a small thought in the boy's mind. And then after a few months of that, you received a message.

Harry: ‘It's better that we just end this.’

You were seemingly crushed, while it seemed Harry was living his best life. You never wished him pain or anything, but you did wish that the breakup itself would have at least bugged him, you had been seeing each other for years practically since you were kids, and then suddenly he just threw you away? It hurt. It hurt like no other.

You ducked your head down in the booth, to avoid being seen, your food hadn’t even arrived yet, but you were ready to get out of this building. Your phone buzzed and you glanced at it to see a message that made your stomach flop.

Sam Holland: I see you.

Your eyes grew wide and your palms seemed to get overly clammy. You peaked over the booth to see his brown eyes looking directly at you. A small smile on his lips, Harry must have seen his brother looking at something cause his head began to turn, but you ducked down hoping he wouldn't notice you, or ask his brother who he was smiling at. Your phone buzzed on the table again and you looked over.

Sam Holland: ‘He knows you're over there. He saw you as soon as we got here.’

Y/N: ‘Oh.’

Sam Holland: ‘He wants to come over and talk to you, but he doesn't think you want to speak with him’.

You felt your eyes start to water with just the thought of talking to him. Against your better judgement you peeked over the booth towards them, except this time he was turned around and looking directly at you. You felt your cheeks flush red and your eyes grow wide. He looked perfect, even more so than he used to if that was at all possible. His red curls were more tame than they used to be, and his soft brown eyes were even more inviting than you remembered. A small smile graced his lips making the birthmark on the corner of his mouth nearly invisible. Were you supposed to smile back? Act like this was a pleasant surprise instead of an anxiety attack waiting to happen?

You were able to gain a moment of clarity and nod your head slightly and flash a smile before turning back to your roommate whose eyes were directly on you, full of worry. “You okay?” Her words rang in your head. Were you okay?

“I think i'm alright,” You mumbled, the waiter approached your table with the food you had ordered, and you attempted to forget that the only boy you had ever loved was sitting just a ways away from you.

You had lost most of the appetite that you had originally had when entering the restaurant, so your food laid on your plate picked at but practically uneaten. Lilly was rambling about something that you had zoned out to. You looked up to see the waiter approaching with a small basket in his hand. Placing it down in front of you on the table.

“Oh, um we didn't order-” You looked down at the basket realizing it was fried pickles, your favorite.

“We didn't order that,” Lilly finished for you.

“The two gentlemen over there sent it,” the man said before walking off. You felt your heart flutter. How on earth did he remember these were your favorite after so long? You glanced over to the twins and both seemed to be focusing on their food. You felt a genuine smile creep on your lips as you picked up one of the round golden disks, sticking it in your mouth and enjoying the taste of the dill.

The rest of dinner seemed to pass by quickly. Lilly picked up the bill as it was her turn, and the two of you got up to leave. You glanced over to the table where the Holland twins had been sitting and felt your face fall once you saw that it was now empty. “Guess he didn't want to say anything too badly,” You mumbled under your breath as you exited the building to the practically empty street. The two of you had walked as it was not a long ways away from your apartment.

You barely made it away from the restaurant building when you heard a familiar voice shouting your name from behind you.

“Y/N” He yelled as he jogged up to you, his curly hair bouncing up and down with every stride he took. He stopped once he was a few feet away, and bent down to catch his breath. He stood back up and smiled at you, causing wrinkles to appear by his eyes, one of the things you had loved most about him. “Hi.” He glanced behind you seeing lilly standing a few feet behind you “Hi lilly,” He added.

“Harry,” Lilly said.

He looked back at you and smiled a nervous smile, waiting for anything from you. He was sure a ‘Fuck off’ would have been better than the silence you were currently giving him. He was relieved when you finally spoke, your voice sounding as angelic as he remembered.

“Hi Harry,” It was nearly a whisper, you were surprised you were able to get anything out at all, passed the lump currently lodged in your throat. Harry looked you up and down before his eyebrows lifted and he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You, look.. Amazing,” He told you, making your cheeks grow redder than they already were. Sam came into view, walking up besides Harry.

“Y/N, it's good to see you,” Sam said, stepping forward and grasping you in a hug, it was easy for you to return, Sam had been one of your closest friends, for so long, and after everything with Harry you had been the one to distance yourself, not wanting to cause any awkwardness. “Hi Lilly,” Sam walked over to your roommate after letting go of you, leaving you standing alone in front of Harry.

“Thank you, You look good yourself,” You told him, his eyes widened, realizing you were willing to talk with him.

“How,” He cleared his throat “How have you been?” He asked, stepping slightly forward, closer to you.

“I've been surviving,” You told him, “And you?”

“Been busy. Lots of projects I've been working on. Feels like I haven't really had much time for myself lately,” He chuckled before letting his guard fall again. “I've uh, I've really missed you,”

Before you could even think you responded “Really?” you could have smacked yourself for that. If someone says they have missed you, especially Harry Robert Holland you don't ask ‘Really’.

“Really, really,” He whispered, taking another step closer to you.

“I've missed you too,” you whispered. You weren't sure what was happening, you weren't even sure this was real anymore, bringing your fingers to your arm and pinching yourself. You winced at the pain. Not a dream.

“I'm home for a while, you think maybe we could get together for tea and breakfast one morning?” He asked you. You didn't even have to think about it, of course you wanted to, but you didn't want to seem desperate. So you looked at your phone and then back to Harry, who looked almost as nervous as you felt.

“Yeah, I'd like that. Just uh, text me, I guess.” the smile that appeared on his face with your acceptance was enough to make you nearly melt.

“Yeah I'll text you,” He stood there, smiling, contemplating what was appropriate. A hug? A handshake? An awkward nod of the head? He took the chance, stepping closer to the last step and offering his hands out for a hug. You of course moved in, your arms fitting around his shoulders, your face resting against his curls, that smelled of mahogany and teakwood, a familiar smell. His arms wrapped comfortably around your waist, his head going into the crook of your neck. It all felt so familiar, so natural, like you had done it everyday, and years ago you had. It had been years though. The hug lasted probably too long, you could feel his breath on your neck and he could feel your heart nearly leaping out of your chest with every beat. Sam's voice saying their ride had arrived made the two of you break away. You smiled at Harry and nodded slightly before he went to walk away. “I'll text you,” He said for a second time, before sliding into the car.

You turned back to Lilly who had a knowing look on her face. “What?” You asked her,

“That was some hug,” She told you, nudging your side with her elbow.

“It was just a hug Lil,” You argued, knowing it was not ‘just a hug’ thankfully she let it go as the two of you walked silently back to your apartment building. Once inside you went directly to your room, hoping to avoid any talk about your run in with the Hollands.

The next few days were busy, so you don't focus too much on the lack of texts you had received. It's not until you're in between finals a few days later that you see you have a message.

Harry: Want to get lunch?

Y/N: Busy with finals. Dinner?

You realize after you send the message that dinner is more of a date meal than a catch up meal and you're kicking yourself in the shin for even asking. But your nerves are settled when Harry responds almost instantly.

Harry: Dinner is perfect. I'll pick you up at 8?

Y/N: I'll send you the address.

You finished the day and went home to get ready for your night. After a shower you rummaged around your closet finding an outfit that was nice without looking too much like a date night outfit.

With only a few minutes until 8 you were pacing around your living room.

“You okay?” Lilly asked you from where she was sitting on the couch.

“Was this a crazy idea?” You blurted out, panic setting in. Why did you think this was a good idea? What were you doing? Before she could even answer there was a knock on the door, and you rushed over to open it.

Harry stood in the doorway, in a light blue button up shirt and a pair of dark jeans accompanied by white converse. He looked great, unbelievable, and you were staring. “Sorry,” You mumbled as you walked through the door, shutting it behind you. “Hi,” You said as you turned to look at him. He smiled his wide toothy smile at you.

“Hey, are you ready?” he asked. You nodded and followed him down the hall and out the door towards his car. He opened the passenger side door for you, and you slid in and buckled up before he climbed into the drivers side. You felt strange sitting next to him as he drove down the road. “So, I have to ask,” Harry started. You looked over to him waiting. He was focused on the road in front of the two of you but you could tell he was nervous about whatever was on his mind.

“Okay,” You said, urging him to continue.

“Did I hurt you?” The question comes as a surprise. You had not expected him to ask something like that. “We don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, but I feel like I owe you an explanation and an apology,” You're a bit taken aback, but you are curious to know why.

“Okay,” You say again.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding about as surprised as you felt. “Well, um I guess once we left on the press tour, I just got so caught up in it all, the speed, the excitement, the fun, and I forgot about everything else.” He was biting the inside of his cheek. “It was always the goal, you know, to build my way up, and Tom gave me an in and i had to take it, and then once i realized how important it was to me, and to make sure my focus was on it, the filming, the editing,” he parked the car in front of the restaurant and turned to face you. “I knew that i wasn't going to be able to give you the time or the attention you deserved, I didn't want to but i felt like breaking up was something i had to do for the both of us,” You took a deep breath, knowing it was probably time to finally say what had been on your mind, for the last few years.

“It's better that we just end this,” He looked at you confused for a moment before you continued. “I had no warning, no reasoning, nothing. You sent me that text and then never spoke to me again. You avoided every call, ignored every message, and then you sent Sam to drop off the few things you had that were mine. Putting me in such an awkward position. Did you hurt me? Yes, you did. You threw away years together over a text. Did you not think I would understand? That I would be supportive?” His eyes were wide and he was silent. “All you had to do was tell me what was going on, tell me how important it was, i would have understood, i would have respected your dreams, and i would have waited, if that's what you would have wanted. But instead, I was left feeling like I never meant anything to you, that years and years of friendship and a relationship were all for nothing,” you could tell now that he was seeing you and hearing you.

“I didn't even.. I didn't..” He stuttered trying to find some sort of reasoning.

“It's ok Harry. It's all in the past,” it wasn't okay, and it wasn't in the past the whole thing resonated with you frequently. Making you question everyone and everything, if Harry, who you were so close to could toss you to the side, everyone else most certainly could as well. And that is the thought that stuck with you over the years, you would never be enough.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry,” He sounded so genuine, so much like the Harry you knew years prior, he reached over and grabbed your hand taking it in his own. You wanted to forgive him, you could try, but deep down, the type of forgiveness that would require would take work and you weren't sure he was even that interested in your forgiveness. If anything tonight was just for him to clear his conscience.

“Lets go have dinner and catch up,” You smiled at him, trying to push away the tears that had pooled up in your eyes.

And catch up you did, you spent the majority of the night telling stories back and forth, exchanging jokes and sarcastic comments. It was almost as if you fell back into things so easily, like the last few years had not happened. Harry shared all of the great accomplishments he had achieved and the things he had planned in the near future, and you told him about Uni and how you were set to graduate in less than a month. You hadn't even realized you had been at the restaurant for four hours until you left.

You noticed a message on your phone once you got into Harry's car.

Lil: Have a date, don't wait up. Tell me everything in the am xx

You rolled your eyes at your roommate's slutty tendencies, this would be the third time this week, maybe it was the same guy each time? But you highly doubted that, Lilly had made a pact to herself after a heartbreak to never let another guy in, in her eyes they were just take and toss orgasms, and that was what worked for her. You on the other hand were a hopeless romantic, convinced that life was just waiting to bless you with the special someone you'd spend the rest of your life with, someone who you once thought was Harry.

As Harry parked in front of your flat, getting out and rounding the car to open your door for you, you had an idea. Probably your worst one ever. “Do you want to come in for a drink?” Lilly's out for the night,” after the words left your mouth you realized how much it sounded like you were throwing the opportunity of sex on the table, and maybe you were, but in that moment you seriously regretted your ability to speak.

“A drink sounds nice,” He told you. You nodded and led the way to the inside of your building. You opened your door and held it open for him to enter, you felt odd having him in your place. This was your home, your private, safe place. And to have the man that single handedly wrecked you was odd, to say the least. You opened your fridge pulling out two of the beers that had been left after one of Lilly's impromptu parties.

“Here you are,” You handed the beverage to Harry who nodded his head in thanks. You cracked yours open and sat there in silence, the only sound in the air was the buzz of the refrigerator.

“I listened to all of them,” He said, finally breaking the silence.

“I'm sorry?”

“The voicemails, the texts, I listened and read each one. I could never bring myself to respond because I hated what I did. I never even deleted them, I have them all saved, along with every picture and memory,” he told you as he tapped his fingers on the side of the beer bottle. He turned so he was facing you now, looking directly into your eyes. “I've never, not loved you Y/N,” And you're not sure if it's a feeling that's always been inside of you or if it's due to Harry's sudden admittance to you, but your body grows warm and weak.

“Prove it,” You whispered to him, a doubt in your mind, because this could not work a second time if it didn't the first. For a second he’s still, eyes focused on you, your breathing, the way you are looking back at him. You're sure he has nothing to prove because there is no way he was being truthful, but then his lips are on yours and you're being pushed against the counter, in what is very simply the most passionate kiss you have ever had.

Your hands are tangled in his curls and he is grabbing your waist, lifting you till you are sat on the counter, him between your legs, lips never leaving yours.

Usually this kind of thing would be slow, light kissing and then making out, which could maybe lead to more, but he's Harry and your Y/N..

You grabbed the hem of his shirt pulling on it, until he broke away from your lips to tug it over his head, grabbing the hem of yours to do the same. Somehow in the mess of stripping each other in your kitchen you made your way to your bedroom. Harry pushed you onto your bed as he grabbed your legs, spreading them apart before dropping to his knees between them. He kissed your inner thigh making his way towards your center. His warm breath ghosted over your throbbing center as he moved to kiss your other thigh.

“Harry, please,” You groaned, feeling unbelievably frustrated by him. His lips attached to your clit, sucking lightly and causing your hips to buck up, but Harry had a hold of you so you went nowhere. Slowly he moved his wet muscle up and down and in and out of your slick center, spending the most attention on your throbbing clit. His fingers moved to your inner thigh slowly teasing up it until he was teasing your entrance. All the while you were a moaning mess, fingers tangled in his curls, back arching up with every flick of his tongue, and then he slid his finger in curling it perfectly to hit that one spot. “Oh Harry,” You moaned out loudly. He continued that motion until you clenched around his fingers, a quivering mess, completely undone by him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” He praised as he brought himself back up to you, lips meeting again. You could taste yourself on him, and it just left you wanting more, sure the orgasm was nice, but you wanted him, no you needed him. “Harry,” You whispered between kisses.

“What is it love?” He asked as he moved his kisses down your neck.

“I need you,” You let out, hands wrapping around his biceps and pulling him back to you. He got the hint quickly and pushed himself to his knees, grabbing his aching cock and pumping it a few times before lining it up at your entrance.

“You sure?” He asked, as he rubbed his tip up to your clit, brushing it gently.

“I'm so sure,” you told him, as he pushed in, he started slowly, not wanting to just bottom out in you, but to cherish the fact that this was actually happening. After an agonizing few seconds your hips sat flesh against each other, you rolled your hips, as the lack of movement was unbearable.

“So needy darling,” He said as he began to move in and out of you, slowly at first, but soon gaining momentum. He had one hand against the wall and the other holding your thigh as he pounded into your sweet pussy. He pushed your leg up more, and the new angle let him reach deeper inside you, now brushing that sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh god,” You moaned out, your hand flying down to touch your clit, searching for your high faster, but Harry caught your wrist just before and did it for you, you felt the tightness building with each thrust of his cock and flick of his finger.

“Come around me darling, i want you to fall apart for me,” He cooed. And it was enough to send you over the edge with the most mind blowing orgasm you had ever experienced. He continued his movements, them soon getting sloppy as you felt him twitch inside of you a sudden warmness as he stilled. He dropped down beside you, arm nestled around your waist as you both laid there, naked and panting. He was the first to speak. “That was..”

“It was,” You told him, a smile creeping up your lips.

“You're incredible,” He whispered. You felt your eyelids get heavy, as you were laid out in Harry's embrace.

Maybe life was one big jokester and it was Harry all along.

Regardless, you would deal with the consequences of tonight's actions tomorrow, for now, you were going to sleep.

#harry robert holland #harry holland smut #harry holland imagine #harry holland

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years ago

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WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio/original female character #santino d'antonio #c: euphemia volpe #f: where there is no temptation there is no glory #spilled ink #john wick oc #i'm fine we're fine this is all fine nobody panic #gonna #q #this so that i can pretend i don't see it djhfbjdf #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

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sleepychai-fics · 3 years ago

Text

A Paradise with You - Sucrose x Reader

I found this cute to write, I hope you guys do too

anon just wanted some fluffy sucrose moments

here it is

Words: 714

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~

“There you are. I was getting worried that you would be a no show.” You say as sucrose walks up to where you lie under the windrise tree.

“Apologies. I got a little held up in the lab.” She replies as she slides her small bag off her back. She goes to lay down next to you but you pull her on top of you instead. For a brief second, she tenses up, then she lets out a relieved sigh and melts into you fingers, head pressed to your chest with her hair tickling your chin.

“It’s fine. Did you finish what you needed to?” You ask as you begin to thread your fingers through her hair.

“No, I was going to stay a bit longer but I remembered what you told me about overworking myself and I didnt want to lose track of time.”

A few seconds pass before she shoots up with a gasp and a twinkle in her eye. She reaches for her bag, digging through its contents. She pulls out a carefully wrapped package before returning her weight to you, her legs now straddling your hips. “I did finish this mini project I’ve been working on for a couple weeks.”

You watch as she carefully unravels the package. It’s revealed to be a translucent sweet flower, glimmering in the rays of sun that cast down on it between the leaves.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It took me quite a while to find the process of transmuting it. But thankfully Mister Albedo helped me configure the last steps.”

A smile spreads upon seeing her pure happiness at the flower. “Do you think you’ll add it to your paradise?”

Sucrose looks at you. “O-Of course. But only if you come as well.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” The smile doesn’t falter from your lips.

Sucrose avoids eye contact, opting to stare at the blades of grass beside her. “Because… I thought of you while making it. Thought of how open and vulnerable I am around you. At first I thought it was horrifying. But then I came to realise my true feelings towards you.” She turns her gaze to the flower, gently holding it up to a brighter ray of sun. This allows the translucent flower to sparkle and shine with all its might, bedazzling its surrounding area, much like a disco ball would.

“I feel brighter and happier with you, even though I felt completely exposed, I knew that you’d help see past my own flaws.” She lowers it back down, finally returning her gaze to yours. “And I can only hope the same for you.”

You can only gape at her, heart swelling at her words. For a second, Sucrose worries that she overstepped her boundary, completely prepared to pack up and run. But when your gentle fingers touch hers, that thought disintegrates. You tenderly wrap the flower back into it’s package and let it rest atop Sucroses’ bag. Once the two of you break contact with iit, you pull her down into a feverish kiss. It takes Sucrose a good few seconds to regain her composure before she reciprocates the kiss, moving her arms to wrap around your neck. A bright blush is prominent on her face and she thanks the archons that you're too busy kissing the ddayliights out of her to notice.

You barely leave her time to breathe, pressing a kiss over and over on her lips, fuelled by the heartfelt confession. It was completely unexpected and out of the blue, which only further fuelled the fire.

It seemed like a solid few minutes passed before Sucrose was hovering above you, out of breath with red lips joining the shades of red adorning her face. You had your own cacophony of reds displayed on your face, though they were slightly lighter shades than what sucrose had.

Your hands move from their place on her hips and magnetise to her face, cupping her cheeks and gently massaging her cheeks with your thumbs.

“I love you so much, Sucrose. I really do. And I hope you know that.”

Despite the embarrassment simmering in her brain, Sucrose manages a bright, confident smile as she briefly leans down to peck your lips.

“I love you too (Y/n), with all that I am.”

#genshin #genshin impact #sucrose x reader #sucrose #genshin sucrose

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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What I Want Most - Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: Daddy kink, a smidge of angst, teasing

Word Count: 2875

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“Please take a seat,”

Mrs. Mills shows Y/N where she should be sitting, and it’s right next to Dean.

Fuck.

She’s going to be the one competing with him?

This is ridiculous.

And in that moment, Dean just knows that he’s fucked.

He could easily handle another male competitor. Hell, he wouldn’t have any problems with female competitors either because they’re even easier to wrap around his fingers. But her?

Shit.

Dean wants to rub over his face so bad. Wants to pinch his eyes. Maybe they betray him? Maybe his mind only wants him to see what he really wishes to see.

This is a bad dream right? How is he supposed to be working with and against someone who he knows the taste of? Someone who he knows likes to be fucked hard and swallows his cum like it’s the best fucking thing? Someone who lets him come deep inside so she’d be dripping him for days?

Jesus.

Dean has to bite down on his bottom lip so as not to make a sound.

He just imagined her still dripping his cum. He shoved two loads deep inside that sweet cunt. The chances are high that she’s still leaking him.

His dick stirs uncomfortably at the image in his head. It also doesn’t help that he catches a whiff of her perfume when she walks past him. It intoxicates his brain.

She’s standing there right next to him and it feels so familiar, yet so painful.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Her voice penetrates his thoughts, jerks him back to reality and Dean scrambles himself out of his seat to stand up because that’s the correct thing to do, right? Fucking etiquette. If it was up to him he’d had her over his knees and spank the shit out of her for not telling him where her new workplace is.

Y/N’s holding out a hand for him to shake and he takes it, feeling the electric current traveling up his arm as soon as he touches her.

Call me daddy, he wants to say, but doesn’t. Instead, he forces out a smile, “Call me, Dean,”

“Right,” She says with a nod, “Dean. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,”

That’s something he really means and there’s just a brief moment of eye contact before she looks away, pulling her hand out of his grip. Too soon for his liking but he reacts fast, pulls up the chair for her to sit on.

“Thank you,” She smiles and Dean can read that. It’s one that says that she’s not entirely sure about Dean’s motives. Not sure if Dean is angry or not.

He’s not really angry if he thinks about it. At least not at her. At fate maybe, but she hasn’t done anything wrong.

They sit and listen to what the bosses have to say but Dean couldn’t concentrate. He watches her out of the corner of his eyes. Her business persona is very different from the playful baby girl that came on her daddy’s cock, came on Dean’s cock. But he likes the professionalism of her too. Like, she’s all tough and serious, is a fucking good girl indeed. She’s even taking fucking notes!

She’s really in for the win, and Dean wonders if he should tell them that he doesn’t even want the promotion that fucking much. But again, where’s the fun in that, right? Because yeah, it could be fun working with her, against her, over her, under her, buried deep inside of her, even though it would also be pure torture.

Finally, the bosses have stopped talking and disappear with the promise of sending them the schedule of their project support meetings for the weeks ahead.

However, Dean’s heart jumps when he sees her wanting to stand up and leave too, but then Mrs. Mills tells her to stay behind and get acquainted with Dean and he watches her sitting back down in her chair. Yeah, thank you very much for that, Mrs. Mills.

As soon as the bosses have gone, Dean stands up and the pushing back of his chair makes the metal screech along the floor. She squints.

“Jesus, Y/N!” He hisses as he walks the two steps to stand behind her, “Why didn’t you tell me where you’re going to be working?”

“Well,” She says but she doesn’t look up to him, instead she keeps her eyes trained on her notebook, “In my defense, I didn’t know, okay? I knew that it was a Dean but I didn’t know that it was going to be fucking you!”

He leans down, braces one of his hands on the back of her chair. His other one is on the table while he practically cages her in. From here her scent is even more alluring. It does things to him that he can’t even explain. Partly, it makes him want to eat her up alive.

Dean noses at her hair, inhales deeply, doesn’t care if she thinks he’s a freak because let's be honest here, they’re both fucking nasty and he thinks that they’ve established that.

“Why did you leave without a word?” He asks in a low voice.

She goes still, doesn’t even breathe as far as he can tell.

Slowly, she tilts her head around and their noses almost touch. It would be easy, so easy for him to kiss her but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares her down but he wasn’t prepared that she’d stare back.

God, she looks absolutely gorgeous. His dick twitches in his pants because his dick fucking remembers.

“I didn’t think it was more than a one night stand, Dean,”

“Well, it probably wouldn’t have been if you wouldn’t have left.”

He can’t believe his own words. But it’s the truth. The girls he takes home are never more than a one night stand and yet, he can’t explain why he thinks that she is more than that. Can’t explain why his cock, his body, his mind, his fucking heart wants her so much. He might also sound like he’s hurt and maybe he is. And it’s not even her fault. Dean should have made himself clearer after he tucked her into bed but he was just fucking exhausted and by the way she was too, he thought that she’d sleep longer than he would.

“What would you have done, Dean?” She asks, her voice a whisper because they’re still so close, “I don’t think any good would have come of it if I had I stayed.”

“I don’t know,” He shakes his head. His mind raced at the question. Yeah, what would he have done?

He grins, “I would have maybe fucked you again, because goddamnit, I can not forget how your sweet cunt clenched around my fat cock,”

Y/N’s tongue darts out, wets her lips and Dean replicates it.

“Dean,”

“I just knew that it wasn’t a one time thing for me, okay? I knew right before I fell asleep that I wanted to see you again. There was hope in my fucking heart that I would get to make you come again. I hoped that I would fucking see you again. I fucking hoped that you’d still be there when I woke up, that you would let me treat you right, that you’d fucking let me bring you home, take you out, the whole shebang,”

“It wasn’t just a one night stand for you?”

“No!” He’s still leaning close and smashed his fist on the table, making her flinch, “Jesus Christ! I thought I just said that?”

“You mean you want to carry on with the fling?”

“It’s not just a fl—” He lowers his head, rests his forehead on her shoulder, “God, you know what? Forget it… but yeah, I want to carry on. More than anything,” He mumbles.

“But—”

“Yeah,” He huffs out, “This is going to be hard,”

“We’re adults, we should be able to work together.” She whispers softly. Too soft, and he can hear it, can hear the longing she has because he feels fucking same.

“Should we?” He asks, just to make sure. Adulting seems to be fucking hard right now.

“Yeah,”

“Goddammit,” Dean curses under his breath, “Do you know how hard it is for me to pretend nothing happened? How hard it is to fucking pretend that I don’t want to bend you over the next surface and fuck you senseless? Do you have any idea how all I want right now is to feel your sweet pussy around my dick again and I had to fucking jerk myself off last night with the image of you on top of me and hearing you call me daddy over and over again?”

“You did?” There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” He frowns, but he chuckles afterward.

“How hard is it?” She asks, raises one eyebrow at him. She looks absolutely cocky.

“Jesus,” Dean growls, and it’s time, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He moves forward, catches her lips. The familiar feeling is there again, the way she presses closer, the way she fucking lets him kiss her. He breaks the kiss only to murmur “So fucking hard, baby girl,” against her lips.

She laughs, and Dean doesn’t really want to part from that sweet fucking mouth, but he knows that he has to. They’re at work for god’s sake. Reluctantly, he pulls himself off her but not before he pulls her bottom lip between his, gives them a little suck and a bite, just to hear her moan against his mouth.

Somehow, they have managed to agree that it’s work first and play later. It doesn’t help that while the bosses see how she’ll be holding up, they just put another desk into Dean’s office. So now, they are sharing offices too.

It doesn’t help her sanity, to be honest, but apparently, she’s been holding up better than he does. Dean has been avoiding her since the meeting, doesn’t want to be too close, and she knows the reason why and it’s really amusing to her.

In the afternoon, Y/N’s working on a project while Dean was at a meeting and she needed binders from the shelf, so she took off her shoes and rolled her chair to the bookshelf to get to the top one.

Pulling out one binder, she rifles through it to see if the numbers she needs are in there when Dean walks in.

He was so quick to be by her side, holding her chair for her while balancing his laptop in his other hand and he curses under his breath, “Jesus, Y/N, that’s not fucking safe. Next time take a chair without wheels, okay?”

It’s really cute how he cares, she can’t lie about that. But she wouldn’t be who she is if she didn’t find things to rile him up.

“Yes, daddy,” She whispers with that grin that’s more than mischievous and he groans audibly while he rolls his eyes to the back of his head.

He’s faking annoyance but he’s not letting go of that chair she’s standing on, holding it for her and she thinks he takes the opportunity to look at her ass too because, when she finishes, he turns away, taking wide strides to his desk and maybe she’s wrong but his legs were bowed more than they usually are.

It’s only late afternoon now, and she’s working across from him. She’s distracted while she reads over the schedule they just sent her.

Oh god. There it is. The warm feeling of something running out of her.

It’s Dean’s cum.

And even though she cleaned herself thoroughly it still keeps leaking out. Just how much did he come? Seriously.

“Did you get the schedule?” Dean asks from behind his monitor.

“Yeah,” She almost squeals because of the warm feeling, and now his cum is pooled in her panties.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,”

Dean gets suspicious, stands up behind his desk to peak over, “You sure?”

“It’s nothing you want to know,” She mumbles, her hands going over the mouse to open up her schedule.

“Why do you think I don’t want to know?” He asks and now he’s walking around his desk to come stand next to her. He’s at least semi-hard because his pants are bulging. She can see it even better when he’s not wearing his suit jacket. Well, to be fair, that thing is hard not to notice.

“Because,” She states, “It’s not going to help you,”

“Well, there’s obviously something that makes you feel uncomfortable and if it’s me, I need to know,”

“Dean, stop!” She groans, “Your cum just leaked out of me, okay? It’s nothing. Are you happy now that you know it?”

He rubs a hand over his face, the scruff sounds loud in the otherwise quiet office, “Jesus, this is torture! I can not fucking work like this!” He throws his hands in the air and shakes his head and turns 360° around for the dramatic effect.

Y/N cocks an eyebrow and shrugs, “You wanted to know,”

Dean leans down then, one hand cups her face, thumb brushing over her cheek, “I know, I’m sorry, baby,” He kisses her, teeth nibbling along her lip, just a little, not even long enough but it already leaves her wanting more, “You’re making this really hard for me,”

Chuckling, she cocks an eyebrow at him, “How hard?”

A groan leaves his lips, “You’re a bratty little thing, ain’t you?”

She shrugs.

“One day, I’m gonna spank you raw,” Dean says as he turns around to walk back to his desk.

“Don’t promise what you can’t keep... daddy,” She calls after him and there’s another groan when he lets his weight help him to flop down into his chair.

Dean left earlier than her. Well, it wasn’t exactly early as it’s now 7.00 PM and she still has her presentation open which she is going to hold on Wednesday morning. It will be her first presentation before a bigger audience. Not really the big bosses but some who will attend are at least a level higher than her. She really wants to make it right, but also she knows that there’s no forcing it. Her head hurts from all the numbers she tries to put on the presentation and maybe Dean’s right, maybe she needs a distraction. Tomorrow will be another day.

By 7.45 PM she reaches home. Well, the apartment looks pretty sad to be honest. She didn’t have the energy to do a lot of unpacking and there are still boxes standing around. And well, Dean said that he hated the way she left, but what he doesn’t know is that she hated it too. She just thought it was the best for both of them.

It was particularly hard to have left because it seemed like they have so much in common. It might be weird because they didn’t spend a lot of time getting to know each other and the majority of that time was spent fucking but sometimes, when it clicks, it just does and you know it. And with Dean, there was that level of familiarity when she first saw him. Something she hasn't encountered in a very long time.

Y/N takes her heels off by the door, shedding clothing on her way to the bathroom in desperate need of a shower. It’s to clean herself, but also to cool herself down. The day has been a roller coaster ride and even though Dean had a harder time to conceal his emotions, she can’t lie that it was easy for her either. She was constantly leaking throughout the day, sometimes more, sometimes less. And then there’s Dean who occasionally comes so close to her from behind and she has automatically gotten wetter from the feeling of his firm body pressed against hers. Taking off her panties in the bathroom, she takes a look at her crotch. They are truly ruined. It’s white and sticky and still damp.

After the shower, she walks out with her hair still wet and a towel around her body, and even though she knows that she should leave work behind, she can’t really help but to check her phone to see if there has been an email. Maybe there’s something that she’s forgotten to do today, maybe someone is still waiting for an answer to their question. People seldom stop working once they leave the office in the financial world. Yet, it’s a world she chose to be in and she has gotten used to it.

As soon as she lights up the screen of her phone to look at it, she has to grin. There are no emails but there are texts from a number she doesn’t recognize.

Thumbing over her screen, she opens them up.

Oh, no.

How did he get her number?

Instead of being upset, though, she can’t help but grin.

D: Here’s the thing, baby girl

D: I want you to pack the things you need for work tomorrow and come by asap

D: Don’t wear pants. Wear a skirt, no underwear

Chapter Three

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#what i want most #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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bts-weverse-trans · 4 years ago

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201124 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - J-Hope

j-hope: “Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.24

On April 28, j-hope streamed a Log ( ON ) video of his dance warm-up on BTS’s YouTube channel, BANGTANTV. Over the course of an hour and four minutes, he stretches out his whole body, gradually advances from small motions up to big movements, and demonstrates more of his other techniques. And he didn’t leave out his cooldown exercise, either. This has been j-hope’s life as a BTS member for the past seven years.

A whole lot happened this year. j-hope: Like I said in another interview, it’s been a roller coaster of a year. It started out with our performance at the Grammys, which was really, really, great, and then Map of the Soul: 7 came out, which was great, too, and then it plummeted. With COVID-19 happening, I did a lot of thinking, did some studying, then everyone met “Dynamite” and we had some great results. And the ride repeated. Roller coasters are scary, but you keep thinking about them even after you get off. That’s how I felt about this year: it was scary, but memorable.

One of those memorable things must be how “Dynamite” topped the Billboard Hot 100 but you never had a chance to actually go to the U.S. j-hope: So when we got first place, we couldn’t even check the charts. We were asleep. We checked when we woke up, and there we were, at the top. But then we went straight to work. (laughs) We had to film something here in Korea. It was hard to enjoy ourselves, the whole situation being what it was, but it was all right because we could still enjoy it together.

You must have had a lot on your mind, making BE during this kind of year. j-hope: I tend to think of BTS albums as being a reflection of the whole team, but this time I thought of it as putting in the stories I wanted to tell, making it my music and infusing myself into the new album while still being a BTS album. It turned out to be right at home with BTS’s color, and the whole team’s energy led to an even bigger synergy.

What made you think to go in that direction? j-hope: We started this album off by getting together and asking what kind of story we wanted to tell. The end result of that conversation was, “Well, hey, we still have to live with this situation; we can’t give up.” And from there, “Life Goes On” was born, and then we got to work on the stories we each wanted to tell. I think it sounds more raw, since we tried to capture the emotions we felt living through the pandemic.

I imagine you each had a lot of songs you wanted to include, and that your opinions were probably all a bit different. How did you compromise on the final product? j-hope: None of us made any kind of plan. We’d listen to a track and someone would ask, “Hey, anybody wanna give this a try?” and someone else would say, “Me! I’ll do it.” We just did it that way. There were clashes, too. When each person starts to speak louder, it’s hard to find a common ground. But we’ve always been good at communicating with one another, and we know when to back down or be gracious, so everything went smoothly including planning for the unit songs.

How did each of you choose your songs? You put “Dis-ease” on the album. j-hope: There’s one song where we were working in the studio and someone said, “That track wasn’t very good, was it? Jung Kook’s one before was better” and we’d switch on the spot. The song would be done recording and we talked to the label and ended up switching it out. We listened to it all together and said, “What about this?” And that’s how we decided. So then “Life Goes On” was done, and I wasn’t sure if “Dis-ease” would be on the album. We gave the seven songs from each member to Jimin, who was project manager, and he suggested we listen to them first and then get feedback from people inside the company. I think it was one of the stories each member could feel was his own.”

Where did you get the idea for the theme of “Dis-ease”? j-hope: First, I wanted to get into the mindset that this song is a sickness. When I make a song, I work on the chorus first, and then move onto the first verse. When I had only finished the chorus the song felt upbeat, but I thought the overall theme shouldn’t be too playful. That wouldn’t reflect how I felt. But while the theme of “Dis-ease” itself isn’t very light, when it fuses with the beat, it feels as if the song is trying to get over itself and stay positive. So I threw some scratching into the chorus and put in some “bbyap bbyap bbayp” and then started to think, “Aha! I’d better call this song ‘Dis-ease.’ ”

I didn’t expect you to write a song portraying your love–hate relationship with your work as a disease. A lot of people would expect you to have a positive, hopeful attitude, given your name. j-hope: I was too busy to ever give much thought about the work itself. But, as you know, that suddenly changed, and there was a lot we could no longer do. When I was working, I’d say, “Ugh, I need a break,” but then we took time off and the words, “Ugh, I want to work,” jumped out of my mouth! That’s what made me think more closely: “Why is this bothering me? I have a chance to rest—just take it. Why do I feel like I need to work under these circumstances? Is this an occupational disease?” I felt like this was a part of me that I could express at this point in time.

This is the first time in your lyrics I’ve heard how hard you push yourself to be successful. It made me wonder about the burden you felt about work over the past seven years. j-hope: Out of habit, I would say, “I’m okay; I have hope,” and keep working, but I think I was just avoiding my work-related problems rather than facing them head on. The nice thing about music is that I can say what’s on my mind, even feeling of sadness or depression, in beautiful ways. I don’t usually express those feelings but this time I wanted to try.

It sounds like you have lots of different thoughts about work. j-hope: With my work? Well, actually, I’m not sure. Work is kind of an ugly duckling. Work gives me good energy but there’s energy you get from resting. But someone like me feels alive when they’re working, so I need to keep moving and keep doing. I feel anxious when I stop and content when I go. Every once in a while I don’t want to work, but I can’t not work.

You’re saying you and work go well together? j-hope: Exactly. It’s easier just to think simple. If you think too hard, that’s when things get difficult. Because I’m me, I can’t just keep it simple all the time, but I’m trying my hardest to do my best.

Thinking simple isn’t always so simple. j-hope: Yeah. Maybe it’s because I don’t have many problems to deal with. I feel uncertainty because of that. Uncertain about how my identity will be affected if I do encounter some great hardship.

BTS has faced a lot of hardship, though, right? j-hope: That is also true. (laughs) But the team wouldn’t have kept going if it’d just been me cheering ourselves on. We’re possible because we all think the same way. I wonder if we would’ve been able to come this far if it was just me saying, “Let’s go, guys!” That’s why I’m even more thankful to the other members.

What do those emotional changes affect your music? j-hope: I didn’t want to make an overly cheery song this time. I thought it would be best to do some softer songs about the way I was feeling this whole time, so I chose “Dis-ease” as well as “Fly to My Room.” The other members also thought, “Yeah, we’ve done a lot of bright songs, so it should be fine if we try it this way, too.” “Blue & Grey” is like that, too. I love that song.

You have a completely different voice when you rap on “Blue & Grey.” Did your rap style also change, along with your emotions? j-hope: I wanted “Blue & Grey” to sound like I was talking, actually. The tone and feel of my voice changes a lot depending on how I vocalize my rap. I noticed that a lot this time. Namjoon actually helped me a ton. His part was after mine, so I turned to him and said, “Maybe it would sound better if I did it like this,” and tried it out. Then I used his advice and found the right sound.

How does it feel moving away from your normal style? j-hope: It’s really refreshing. I thought it wouldn’t work but I think it did after all. And I always thought this was a feel that I wanted to give it a try. For me, BE is sort of like the first step down an unfamiliar path, so there were parts that were challenging, and also parts that were a welcome change.

I think your rap in “Dis-ease” demonstrates that change well. Instead of trying to keep time in the intro, your flow just follows the story. j-hope: I made sure not to overthink anything this time. It ended up sounding natural because I just matched the rhythm of the words as they left my mouth. And it was refreshing because I haven’t done a long verse like in “Dis-ease” in forever. When we rap, there tend to be four or eight-ish lines; I thought I’d try and pack in a verse with sixteen. It also helped because the lyrics came out before many of the other things for this song.

The music makes “Dis-ease” sound upbeat, but then there’s a surprising message: “To be honest, I have this problem.” It’s like you were holding yourself back from crossing a line. j-hope: It was something like that. Shouldn't we stay on this line? Maybe that’s a disease too (laughs). I thought if j-hope leaned too much to one side people might think that’s strange, too. That’s why I tried to stick to my standards, but since I’m also human I also expressed emotions I couldn’t articulate into music.

You don’t want to try and cross that line? j-hope: I’ve thought about it, obviously. I want to, but in my life itself and in my mind, I always think if there’s a line, it shouldn’t be crossed. But I’m becoming more generous to myself about crossing lines when it comes to music.

So you haven’t crossed yet, but right now you want to say, “I have something else,” and go further. j-hope: Yes. This is maybe a time when I really need to. I’ve been lucky because I met great people, had success and reached where I am now. Now that I’m here, I always want to try new things myself and keep growing. That’s why I’m working hard and thinking about what kind of music I should make.

There’s a part in “Fly to My Room” where you sing, “You can change the way you think.” It’s like you were explaining the past seven years of your life. j-hope: It all depends on how you look at it. Say there’s some kind of food. You might feel lonely while eating it by yourself, but if you forget about your loneliness for a minute and think, “There is no difference in food I would be eating out (with other people) anyway,” then it’s just like eating out. So even though I was stuck feeling lonely at home, I started to think of it as another trip instead. I thought of my room as my world, and delivery food as a three-star hotel meal. As you can tell from the title, I worked on that song by thinking about the way I endured this year so far.

And why did you decide to “change the way you think?” j-hope: Because I get a lot of love. Because I’m in this position and in this place, there’s things I have to deal with, and I should do things and think things I am able to bear. I thought about that a lot and accepted it. So I thought about what I could do during these hard times, and how I could help out my friends, my team. I think I’m still going through that process, too, so everything’s an “-ing��, because I might need to know what to do later about what I can do, even if I don’t quite know it yet.

What effect does being surrounded by so much love have on you? j-hope: It’s amazing to be loved by even one person. Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world. And I know this isn’t something to take for granted. I’m so incredibly thankful that sometimes I feel overwhelmed just thinking, ‘Wow, how can I ever return this much love?’ I want to express that in any way possible, every moment I can, because I’m so honored to be so loved that I can’t begin to put it into words.

A little while ago, in an interview with Rolling Stone India, you said that, when you were young, you equated debuting with success. What does success mean to you now, now that you’ve had success after success? j-hope: Success … It’s a simple idea, but it can weigh on you. In all aspects of life, I think success means being satisfied with what you’re able to do.When you lose faith in your work and it starts becoming a chore, that’s when it starts to get depressing.

There are inevitably times when you can’t enjoy it. j-hope: It’s just, you know, it’s really simple. If you can’t do it now, you can always do it later. Do that, and you can put your mind at ease. And I think that’s the secret to living a long, happy life. Anything you can’t do in your 20s, you can just do in your 40s. Of course, there’s going to be stuff you should do now while you’re still (laughs) energetic. But if that’s the position you’re in right now, you just have to ride it out. Try again later if you can’t enjoy yourself now. You’ll probably feel different in the future anyway. Yeah, that was pretty much the key to my self-preservation.

Where do you find the strength to hold on like that? j-hope: From the group, it’s very clear what that is. It’s our fans. ARMY. We had to pull through, for the fans. At any time of any day, the fans come first. I keep thinking about how painful it would be for the fans if we just gloss over something or feel like giving up just because we’re having a hard time. I was 20 when we made our debut. I didn’t know much about having a social life, but the messages our fans sent were a big comfort and gave us hope. I learned a lot just by reading fan letters and understanding the kind of thoughts they had. Fans and artists really are one and the same.

That makes me think of a line from “Life Goes On”: “People say the world has changed but thankfully between you and me, nothing has changed.” j-hope: Yes, right. I thought that line expressed the feeling really well as soon as I first heard it. Yoongi wrote that. He is really good. (laughs) I think that describes our relationship with our fans.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #hoseok #weverse #weverse magazine #be album #comeback interview #201124 #2020

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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Relax

Pairing: Han Jumin/Main Character

Bio: You just need a moment... a second to breathe as the world passes you by. Jumin sees you and he gives you a chance to slow down and find yourself again.

For the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang Project. @mysme-rbb

[Read on AO3]

[Check out my Partner’s half here.]

The party felt like it was… alive.

There was just so much to do and so much to take care of that it was hard for you to function. You knew what was expected of you as the party coordinator but at the same time, this was out of your realm of comfort. You weren’t the kind of person who tended to go out of their way to be chatty.

You were just…

You.

Not that, that was a bad thing. It was just that you weren’t as outgoing and bubbly as someone like Rika had been. She seemed to be the center of attention no matter what and you had always been more of a wallflower if anything. You didn’t go out of your way for people unless you had the feeling that they needed help.

The need to help others overwhelmingly made you do things for others beyond your limitations. It meant that you ran yourself ragged without meaning to and by the time that you knew that you were overloaded, it was already too late. Your skin would crawl and you would feel sick to your stomach for quite a while.

It was the same old song and dance every day of your life when you were thrown into something you weren’t sure you were prepared for. This party, for example, you barely had any time to be able to get the wind of what you were meant to do and somehow it came together.

It didn’t seem like you made any mistakes.

But, you were physically far too aware of every detail that you’d made and nobody else had touched. You had just made your rounds over the party to check on everyone, mingling with the guests and trying to keep a smile on your face the entire time. It wasn’t easy, but you were doing the best that you could.

What you didn’t realize was that it was increasingly obvious to the one person that had been around you the most lately that noticed that something was wrong. The dread that coiled in your gut was far too strong to ignore but you were trying to hide it, trying to make sure that this party turned out the way that it was supposed to.

Breathing in deeply, you tried to disregard that cracking noise that came underneath it. It was always there whenever your anxiety flared and sometimes, it would be a warning that would be okay, and other times it was a warning that you needed to get away from everything. All of the lights and all of the sounds were just too much.

Your skin crawled and hissed at you to step away as the overstimulation of your senses grew stronger and stronger. It was one of those feelings where you could be perfectly fine to those around you who didn’t know any better, but on the inside, you were trembling and shaking like a leaf in the breeze.

You felt pathetic and still overwhelmed by something as small as a party when you knew how to handle it. You knew how to control these feelings and ground yourself, but it was just so hard to think clearly with the thumping of the music and the chattering voices in the back of the room.

That’s why it surprised you when you felt a hand grasp at your wrist. You lifted your head to meet dark eyes and a gentle look. Jumin had appeared to you seemingly out of nowhere and nudged you in the direction of outside. You weren’t in any condition to decline his offer but anything to get you away from the buzzing sound was fine by you.

Jumin led you out onto the balcony that overlooked the city, the sounds of the party now simply a distant hum against the sounds of the evening breeze and the occasional sound of cars driving by the building. The party was in a secluded and quiet little area of town so there weren’t a lot of people clattering about outside.

You had never been this high up before nor had you had a view of the city like this. You let the buzzing feeling in the back of your mind rest where it was as you tried to find a distraction. You took a step forward and leaning over the edge to peer down at the world below. As quiet as it was, you could see things you never saw before.

Not just glimmering lights, not just people living their lives, but feeling like nobody else could exist at this moment apart from the two of you. It was peaceful. It was what you wanted. It was a moment to breathe and find yourself when it felt like the rest of the world was collapsing around you so quickly.

“I imagine it’s overwhelming to be in charge of something like this for the first time,” he said, leaning against the ledge next to you. “Are you doing alright? You haven’t taken a moment to catch your breath since you arrived.”

“That’s very… astute, Jumin,” you said. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. It felt like that foreign feeling of wanting to cry was still there. You didn’t want to worry him for anything. “I expect no less from you, though. I’m… I’ll be okay. I just needed a minute to cool down.”

Jumin didn’t have to take a hint.

People were always joking and saying that he wasn’t emotionally mature and he didn’t know how to read into others, but he did. You knew that he did. For someone that everyone called a robot, he had always been checking in with you and making sure that you felt welcomed.

Sure, it had been strange how you felt, but Jumin didn’t treat you differently because of it. He was ready to talk and converse with you about just about anything. He had a range of interests that could’ve made your head spin with how easily he could shift a conversation and talk to a person about anything.

Even things that he may have just started learning about. Jumin was always learning, and in a way, you wanted to be more like that. You wanted to see what it was like to handle the room instead of running away from it when it got tough. It was something that you had been working on all your life but it wasn’t moving as fast as you wanted it to be.

“Take as much time as you need, then,” Jumin’s voice drew you away from your thoughts once again. “You’ve done the hard work of coordinating this event. You don’t have to handle this all on your own. That’s why we’re an organization.”

“Funny you say that,” you felt a laugh come to your lips as you thought about all that Jumin had been doing for the party. Not even for the party, for everyone that was in the RFA. He had been making sure that everyone was safe from not only the hacker but from outside threats that they couldn’t account for.

He was doing that without being prompted.

His compassion knew no bounds.

Jumin Han, if anyone, was the one that needed to know how much he was appreciated. He was even trying to help you right now instead of doing his tasks for the party. He was always the one that put his loved ones first and you could relate to that. It was just hard to imagine the sheer weight of it given the length Jumin went to.

It was above and beyond what you felt capable of yourself.

That was when you turned to look at him, “It seems like you’ve been taking care of everything yourself, too. I think if anyone needs a break, it’s you, Jumin.”

Jumin chuckled. He gave you that rare smile that made you feel like you were on cloud nine all over again. “How about we both take a break, then? I imagine they can handle things for a few minutes if we’re away.”

“I think that’s fair,” you smiled. Sliding your hand across the balcony, you bumped your palm against his and he looked down at where your fingers interlocked. It was a simple gesture but he returned it, holding your hand tightly within his own as if it was meant to be. “Thank you for saving me back there. I usually can handle it when it gets bad, but…”

“It’s your first party. You want things to run smoothly,” he replied as if he had pulled the answer right from your mind. “I understand. There are things that we can control and things that we can not control. Don’t worry too hard about it. Thanks to your delicate care, things are going to turn out wonderful.”

“Give yourself some credit, we wouldn’t have the party right now if now for how much you’ve been looking out for everyone.”

“I suppose we both have to be a bit less modest, wouldn’t you say?”

“Jumin Han, modest ?”

“Preposterous, right? I imagine Zen would have an interesting response to that.”

“Hahaha… Jumin, you always know how to make me feel safe again.”

You watched as Jumin stared back at the city lights and the skyline. He was lost in his thoughts but you were lost in him. If nothing else, you knew that you always had a safe place with Jumin and there would be nothing that could ever take that away from you. It was just what felt right to you and all you wanted to be.

With Jumin, you would have a peaceful place to hide away from the world, and you knew from the way he held your hand, that he felt the same way about you. Smiling, you looked back into the party hall and then back to Jumin as the faint music began to play once again. You figured it was a good time as any to have a dance.

And, the first man you wanted to share that with happened to be right there with you.

You looked at him and watched as his deep eyes returned to you, “If I could be so bold, could I have a dance with you, Jumin?”

Jumin held your hand so tenderly and nodded. Thus began a dance shared between the two of you that stayed so sweet underneath those stars. “Of course, you can. I was going to ask you myself but it appears you’ve beaten me to the punch. I admire that. You keep surprising me, and I can’t wait to see what else you can do.”

And so, you swayed against him and felt that feeling of peace wash over you. During a busy night with everyone on their toes, you would enjoy this moment of serenity with Jumin as you intended. Even if the world was tumbling around you, there would always be Jumin to fall back on when you needed support.

No matter what.

#mysmerbb #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger #jumin han #han jumin #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin mm #jumin mystic messenger #jumin mysme #mysme jumin #mm jumin #mystic messenger jumin #mod kait #long post

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 4 years ago

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Forget Him (P.JM)

Warnings : partying, mentions of sex, swearing, punching

Synopsis : her relationship with notorious fuckboy Kim Taehyung is over, but she can’t seem to move on. her best friend tells her the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, so she takes his advice. little does she know, he’d do more than just help her get over Taehyung.

Word Count : 3703

When my eyes met his I could feel my heart break all over again. It’s not that I expected to never see him again, we go to the same university. I just didn’t expect to see him with someone new so soon. I thought I meant more to him than that, but he warned me from the start.

“I hope you’re not looking for anything serious.” I looked up from my plate of food, curiousness prevalent on my features, even I could tell without seeing my own face. “I like you, but if you’re looking for serious I’ll just break your heart.” A smile took over my previous curious expression.

“I have thick skin; you’ll have to try really hard to break my heart.” I joked before taking another bite of the food he paid for. “Besides, I’m way too busy with university to be serious.” It was his turn to smile at me and I had to calm my heart. I could do casual, it’s for the best anyway. I don’t need any distractions. But at this point, who am I trying to convince?

I was telling the truth when I said he’d have to try really hard to break my heart. I’d been hurt in the past, it took a lot for me to open up, but it seemed as if he made it his mission to do exactly that. He was perfect, for me and just in general. And the girl currently wrapped up in his arms, smiling up at the man I never meant to fall for, is nothing short of perfect as well. There was no doubt in mind moving on would be easier for him than it would be for me, but did he really have to rub it in my face like that?

“You say you hate the guy and yet you can’t take your eyes off of him.” The familiar sound of my best friend’s voice tore my attention away from the sickeningly sweet couple. He draped his arm across my shoulders and dragged me away from the scene. “You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” I playfully slapped him.

“Only you would say that to me.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. When I met Hoseok, I was immediately drawn to him. He made it so easy to open up to him and to fall for his energy. I’d never gotten close to someone as quickly as I did with him, and for good reason, but he never made me doubt my decision.

“Just come hang out with me and my other friends and stop looking so pitiful.” I rolled my eyes, but I wouldn’t protest to being as far away from Taehyung as possible. “Jimin, Namjoon, this is my best friend Y/N.” He quickly greeted when we approached two guys standing off in their own little world. “Can you watch her so I can go get us drinks?” I wasn’t someone who needed to be watched, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Any reason you need to be babysat?” Jimin chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. I rolled my eyes at the cockiness that he exuded, so similar to Taehyung’s, but I trusted Hoseok’s judgment of his character and refrained from punching him.

“My ex is here with his new girlfriend.” Could I even call him that? Were we ever actually dating?

“You look stunning.” He said almost breathlessly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his. “How did I get so lucky to have you by my side?” His smile was genuine as he looked down at me, slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I should be the one asking that, Tae.” We spoke so softly, as if we were afraid others would hear and pull us out of this bubble we created for ourselves.

“Well we should get going. I have something special planned for our 100th day.” My heart skipped a beat at the thought that he put together something special just for me. If he still wanted casual, he wouldn’t go out of his way for something so minuscule as the 100th day, would he? I didn’t let myself dwell on it too much as got into the car when he opened the door for me. He held my hand the entire drive to what I thought was a restaurant, but instead he stopped by a field. In the distance I could see a small table for two set up, candles adorning the table.

“You did all of this for me?” I asked when we approached the table. I looked at what we’d be eating and saw he had made my favourites.

“You’re my princess, and I wanted to show you that.” We said casual, but neither of us really meant it, did we? I couldn’t help the smile I wore the entire night, looking across the table to see the man I was falling in love with without even realizing it.

“Here, let’s get your party on.” Hoseok placed a red solo cup filled with who knows what in my hand. I thanked him and tried my best to forget everything.

The next morning I could feel the headache before I even opened my eyes. The night came back to me in flashes as I tried to piece together how I could have gotten so drunk. It wasn’t until I felt the bed move as a body next to me rolled over that I wondered just how drunk I was. “God what a night.” He groaned as he opened his eyes and smiled at me. Park Jimin was in my bed staring at me with a smile. “Good morning, angel.” I chuckled at the nickname Hoseok gave me our first year here. We were paired up for a dancing project and he told me I resembled an angel to him when I danced.

“Good morning, Jimin.” I smiled back as the night continued to return in flashes. The images of rough kisses and tossed clothes hit me suddenly. I had to clench my legs as I thought of how the rest of the progressed, suddenly wanting to feel it all again while sober. Hoseok was right, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“About last night..” Jimin started as he slowly started to sit up, the blanket falling from his bare torso, allowing me a good look, a look I’d remember.

“Want to do it again?” He looked at me with wide eyes before smiling and moving closer to me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Being with Jimin felt easy. I didn’t have to open up about past heartbreak or try to be a proper lady. We didn’t pretend that we were anything more than fuck buddies. There was no fancy dinners or empty promises. Just take out and crumpled bed sheets. “Let me watch you at dance practice today.” He said as he hovered over me, placing a kiss on my nose. I pushed him off of me as I stood to get ready.

“And why would I do that, Park Jimin?” I made my way to my closet, not bothering to cover my currently nude body with a blanket, it wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen.

“Because Hoseok goes on and on about how hot you look while dancing.” He was soon behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he kissed the back of my neck and slowly made his way around to my lips, bringing me in for a deep, needy kiss.

“Really, Hoseok called me hot?” I didn’t believe that for a second. Hoseok flirted with me in the past, that’s not something we’ve kept a secret. But not once in the three years I’ve known him has he ever called me hot. Stunning maybe. Ethereal definitely. Especially when it came to my dancing. The only person I knew who could beat me in a contest was him, but it would be pretty close.

“Okay so he didn’t say hot per se, but the way he describes you, I need to see it for myself.” I could see the pleading in his eyes and decided to cave to his puppy dog eyes just this one time. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Just this once, but you’re buying food after.” His smile widened as he quickly agreed and helped me pick out an outfit for practice.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I was dancing. It almost made me stumble a few times, but I was able to keep my composure as if he wasn’t even there. By the end of practice, Jimin was jumping up from his spot, spewing out about how good it was, trying his best not to let Hoseok in on the fact that we’ve been sleeping together.

“I told you, she looks like an angel!” Hoseok added onto the nonsense that Jimin was spewing. I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes at the two of them. “Don’t laugh when you know it’s the truth. You could make it in the big leagues, I just know it.” I playfully slapped him.

“As much as I love the two of you complimenting me, and trust me I love it, Jimin promised dinner.” I smiled over at him to see he was already smiling at me with a look in his eyes that reminded me of Taehyung.

Six months. We both said it would be casual and that no strong feelings would be involved, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think we’d last this long. I could do casual for a couple of months, but we’ve been together for six months now. Every time I look at him, he’s looking at me with a look in his eyes that reminds me of a lovesick child. It’s the same look I give him, I’m sure.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I let out a little laugh as I covered my face. He reached over and took my hands from my face.

“Because you’re so beautiful.” He kissed me before I could say anything. My heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and I could swear he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything. The words were burning in my throat, dying to come out, but I knew that would ruin everything. So I swallowed them down and pretended I didn’t fall absolutely head over heels in love with him.

“Should we text Namjoon to join us? I don’t want him to feel left out.” I pouted at Hoseok and Jimin. Since I met the two of them at the party a month ago, I’d actually grown quite close to them, Jimin more so than Namjoon for obvious reasons, but I’ll be forever grateful to have the two of them in my life.

“As if I didn’t already text him.” Hoseok jokingly rolled his eyes. “I know you love him more than us.”

“Not true and you know that Hobi!” I said as I jumped on his back. His hands immediately wrapped around my legs to stop me from falling. “No one loves me the way you do so you’re my favourite.” I kissed his cheek as I usually do. I could sense the difference in atmosphere after looking over to Jimin who was staring at us with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Still offended I wasn’t invited to watch dance practice.” Namjoon huffed when we met him at the restaurant. I pouted up at him and told him he could come to the next one if he wanted to.

“How did you even convince Jimin to buy you dinner?” Hoseok asked, looking between the two of us. “I’ve known him for years and he’s never offered to buy me anything!” I stifled a laugh at that fact.

“I’m cuter than you, what did you expect?” I joked, wrapping my arms around the arm Jimin had resting on the table. He looked over to me with a wide smile and placed his hand on mine.

“Damn I see how it is. I’m not a pretty girl so I got to buy my own food.” Hoseok shook his head.

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t always buy my food too!” I joked back, unwrapping myself from Jimin as my food was placed in front of me. Just as I was about to dig in, I heard a familiar voice from behind me and I immediately lost my appetite.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He exclaimed with a wide smile and a pretty girl tucked into a side, a different girl than the one at the party. She glared at me with a look that could kill, but I didn’t pay her any mind as my eyes couldn’t move from Taehyung, standing there dressed in all black looking like some sort of god.

“Well I’m here.” I replied, trying my best to hide the hurt in my voice. I couldn’t let him know he hurt me.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways. This already went on too long.” I blinked back my tears and gave him a smile, telling him I agree.

“We said casual. A one-year anniversary is too serious.” I chuckled as I took a sip of my coffee. “This was fun though. You were a good distraction when I needed it.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, you were too. I’ll see you around.” He stood from the table and I watched as he walked away. I just sat there, staring in the direction he left long after he was out of view. After I finished my coffee, I went back to my apartment and stared at the gift on my table. Something I found that would have been perfect for Taehyung. I wasted my money even though I knew it was all casual. I fell in love with a man who didn’t know what love was.

“Why are you standing there like we’re going to ask you to join us?” Hoseok snapped, anger prevalent on his features and I couldn’t help but smile at my best friend.

“Awe come on, we’re friends, right Y/N?” A small laugh came out of my mouth when he said that.

“We’ve never been friends, Taehyung.” Namjoon and Jimin seemed to put two and two together that Taehyung was the ex from the party a month ago. I could see it in the way their faces changed from confusion to anger. Jimin wrapped his arm around me.

“Should we get this to go, love?” He asked me softly. I looked away from Taehyung and met Jimin’s eyes. He seemed to always have an unreadable emotion in his eyes, and I just wish I could read him as easily I can Hoseok.

“No that’s alright, babe.” I played along with the prettiest smile I could muster while Taehyung’s eyes were still on me. “I’m not going to let irrelevant people ruin our good day.” I looked up at Taehyung who rolled his eyes.

“So much for not having time for relationships.” He muttered just loud enough for the table to hear as he walked away, the girl asking him a million questions. I chuckled at his annoyed expression and the way he all but pushed her away.

“You did not tell us that the notorious Kim Taehyung was your ex.” Namjoon said when the two were out of earshot. Jimin removed his arm from around me and just stared at his food while he ate.

“Not something I like to brag about, Joonie. Besides, it wasn’t anything serious.” Hoseok scoffed at that.

“One year isn’t casual, Y/N.”

“You dated him for a year?!” Jimin basically shouted at Hoseok’s words. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“We weren’t really dating, guys. Really it’s not a big deal.”

“It was a big enough deal that we had to babysit you at that party.” Namjoon added and I rolled my eyes and just let the conversation drop. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Falling in love with Taehyung wasn’t my finest moment, and I’d rather forget we ever had something.

A few days after the incident at the restaurant, I found myself sitting at a café, my drink sitting on the table getting colder as the minutes passed. He was always good at making me wait, and I began to wonder if he was even showing up. After sitting there for almost 30 minutes, I reached for my drink and got up to leave. “Hey! Sorry I’m late.” He ran in, out of breath and sat down across from me.

“It’s not new. I should just stop showing up on time.” I said as monotone as I could.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to be better; I promise.” I furrowed my brows at his words. “I want to try again. I miss us. I was stupid to think things could be casual with you.” I crossed one leg over the other and sat back in my chair, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “I know you’re dating that guy, but I also know that you still love me.” I thought back to Jimin and how he distanced himself from me these last few days. I tried texting him and calling him, but it seemed as if he was ignoring me, ever since he found out about Taehyung.

“I love Jimin.” I told him simply and went to stand when my eyes met Jimin’s, sitting across from a girl who seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. Taehyung turned to see what I was staring at.

“That asshole.” Taehyung seethed, standing from the table and storming towards Jimin. Jimin stood before Taehyung reached him but that didn’t stop Taehyung from grabbing the collar of his shirt and yelling at him. I knew I needed to stop him before anything else happened, but I was frozen in spot. The other patrons looked on, wondering what was happening at this usually quiet café. It wasn’t until Taehyung threw a punch that I was running over to them and throwing myself in between them.

“Stop!” I yelled as I put my hands on Taehyung’s chest. He looked down at me and his features softened. “It’s okay, Tae. Jimin and I aren’t dating.”

“What?” He asked, looking between the two of us. “But you just said you love him.” I nodded and took one of Tae’s hands.

“I did say that. Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” I turned towards Jimin and the girl he was with. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later, please answer.” Jimin just looked at me with tears in his eyes, but I wrote that off as pain from the punch Tae threw. Taehyung and I walked out of the café hand in hand, and it brought me back to the days we were okay.

“Tae can you stop walking so fast.” I said when we were outside. Just as he stopped, I felt another hand wrap around my wrist, and by the way Tae’s eyes widened, I knew it was Jimin before I turned around. When I looked up at him, he let go of my wrist and cupped my face before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was different than the others we shared. It wasn’t needy or demanding. It was soft and filled with passion. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I couldn’t help but kiss back, my hand dropping from Taehyung’s.

“I love you.” He whispered, hands still cupping my face. I said the words to piss Taehyung off, knowing I couldn’t allow myself to fall more in love with him. I couldn’t get back with him knowing how fast he moved on. Deep down, I knew he just wanted me back because he couldn’t have me. Because I wasn’t letting myself be hurt over his absence.

But as I stared into Jimin’s eyes, I thought back to all the moments we shared, in and out of my bedroom. How he never thought twice about protecting me, without even knowing the truth. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The obvious jealousy at me and Hoseok that I wrote off as awkwardness about Hoseok not knowing about us. How he would always bring me snacks when he knew something was wrong, even at 3 in the morning. He was always there, little by little kicking Taehyung out of my heart.

“Please don’t go to him.” Jimin added when I didn’t say anything, his hands dropping from my face. I turned towards Taehyung, seeing he was just standing there, fuming as he watched us.

“How can you say you love her when you were just in there with another girl?” He yelled, taking a step towards Jimin. I stepped in between them, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t throw another punch.

“How can you say you love her when you’ve been sleeping around since you guys broke up?” Taehyung scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you don’t deserve her!”

“And you do?”

“Can you two just shut up!” I yelled. “Tae, I don’t want to be with you. There’s nothing between us anymore.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re choosing him.” Taehyung took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“My love life has nothing to do with you, not anymore. Jimin, can you please take me home.” I looked up at his bruised face and he nodded, draping an arm across my shoulders and took me away from Tae. “Thank you.” I whispered as we walked. “And I’m sorry. I never thought he’d act like that.”

“I meant it you know. I love you.” He was already looking down at me when I looked up.

“Me too.” I didn’t when I said those words to Taehyung, but I did now.

#forget him #bts #bts imagine #park jimin #park jimin imagine #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon

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noona-clock · 4 years ago

Text

Traveling Love (Collab)

Genre: Fluffy/Romantic AU

Pairing: Nam Joo Hyuk x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, Masterlist | Words: 2,074

A/N: Welcome to the third series in the monthly Love In Fours Ways collab with myself, @jackiejacks923 @prettywordsyouleft & @this-song-thats-only-for-you . We have all taken inspiration from 4 illustrations (linked below), and during the last week of the month, we will each be sharing a 4-part mini-series based on those drawings.

Credit to: Puuung - Love Is In The Small Things

Part 1: Talking About The Places You Want To Go

You always knew when Joo Hyuk had had a rough day at work.

Well, I guess it’s more accurate to say that you always knew before he told you.

Without fail, at the end of a long and stressful day, Joo Hyuk would park himself out on the modest balcony of your shared apartment. Sometimes he would just be sitting there browsing on his phone. Sometimes he would be reading, sometimes drinking a cup of hot tea, and sometimes he would just be sitting in the chair with his head tilted back, examining the sky.

Tonight, it was a mix of two: he had a cup of hot tea sitting on the small side table next to the chair, and he also had his head tilted back so he could examine the darkening sky above him.

He was, apparently, too engrossed in pondering each star becoming gradually more visible because you were able to approach the balcony door without him noticing. Something must really be bothering him.

You took a breath before grasping the door handle and sliding it open, eyebrows raised as your boyfriend’s head jerked a little in surprise. But when he saw it was you, his expression softened -- his forehead smoothed out and the frown tugging at the corners of his lips transformed into a ghost of a smile.

“Hey,” you murmured quietly as you stepped out into the cool stone surface of the balcony. “What’s up?”

Instead of answering you verbally, Joo Hyuk simply held out one arm, his fingers stretching out toward you and beckoning you over you to him.

Once you took a few steps in his direction, you slid your fingers into his and bent down to greet him with a soft kiss on the lips.

“How was your day?” you mumbled, even though you knew -- basically -- what his answer would be.

Again, instead of answering you verbally, he scooched back in the chair and made room for you in-between his legs, patting the space with his free hand in a silent invitation.

You squeezed his hand gently before shuffling over to the chair and perching in front of him on the cushion. A content sigh escaped your lips when you leaned back against him, your eyes closing briefly when you felt Joo Hyuk press his cheek against the side of your head.

He wound his arms around you, lifting one leg up and resting his foot on the edge of the table as you pulled your knees up toward your chest.

As soon as you had settled into his embrace, you felt him take a breath.

“I think I just need a break,” he murmured, his lips ruffling your hair gently.

“I agree,” you replied with a tiny nod of your head. You weren’t sure what was going on at work, but he’d been out here on the balcony more often than usual lately -- whatever it was, you knew without a doubt he deserved a break from it.

Joo Hyuk waited a few moments before asking, “Can you take any time off?”

Your brow furrowed softly, and while you wanted to tilt your head to look at him, he was holding you just tightly enough that you couldn’t quite manage it. So, instead, you simply replied with a soft but slow, “Yeah... Why?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

You almost let out a delighted gasp.

Of course! Why hadn’t you thought of that?

It had been almost a year since the two of you had gone on a trip together -- the last vacation you’d taken as a couple had been even before you’d moved in together, so it was absolutely time for another one.

“I would love that,” you replied, your lips curving into an excited grin as you nestled back even further into Joo Hyuk’s chest. “Where should we go?”

“That’s a good question,” he murmured. He was quiet for the next several moments, but you knew the gears in his brain were working away because he was playing mindlessly with your fingers. Then, he finally said, “Well, do we want a quiet vacation or a busy vacation?”

You pursed your lips slightly in thought before answering, “I think a bit of both. Busy days but quiet nights.”

“Do we want to go somewhere we’ve been and love or try somewhere new?”

“Definitely somewhere new,” you nodded.

“A city? The countryside? By the ocean?”

You had never planned a vacation like this, but you had to admit -- it was pretty fun. Especially since you were making all the decisions.

“How about... a city by the ocean?”

Joo Hyuk let out a breath of a laugh, linking his fingers through yours and squeezing your hands. “That sounds perfect.”

“I think,” you continued, leaning back even more and tilting your head up slightly to gaze at the stars. “That we should find a city by the ocean with lots of history and great architecture and delicious food.”

“That sounds even more perfect,” he murmured into your ear before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “Do you have a specific city by the ocean in mind?”

“Not yet,” you grinned. A shiver ran down your back as he kissed your ear again. “But I will find one.”

“I trust you,” he whispered. His lips then moved to your jaw, and you couldn’t hold back a soft giggle as he tickled your skin with kisses.

After he’d finally made his way to your lips, he settled back against the chair, tightening his hold on you and letting out a soft sigh.

You waited a few moments before speaking, partly wanting to give him some peace and quiet but also partly wanting him to answer your question without you having to ask -- but your boyfriend was too reserved for that, even after all this time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired gently. “You seem really stressed, and I don’t want you to let it build up or anything.”

“It’s just work,” he answered dismissively.

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, and when he didn’t continue, you nudged him a little with your elbow. “So? You can talk about it. Even if I won’t understand what you’re talking about, it’ll still feel good to get it all off your chest.”

With that, Joo Hyuk let out a very deep sigh, and your brow furrowed with worry.

“There’s just a lot going on, and two people left my department, so we’re short-staffed. We’re all doing the work of more than one person, and there are more projects than usual lately, so... it’s just a lot.”

A frown curved your lips, and you pressed your head back into his shoulder to try and comfort him. His love language wasn’t Physical Touch (it was Acts of Service), but you still wanted to let him know that you were here for him -- physically and emotionally.

“It’ll be all right,” he assured you even though he didn’t sound incredibly convincing. “We just have to get through these projects and hire a couple of people as soon as we can. It won’t last forever.”

“When do you think we’ll be able to take our trip?” you asked, figuring it wouldn’t be soon if he was that busy at work.

“How about next month? The weather should be nice,” he answered.

“Yeah? That soon?”

You felt Joo Hyuk nod, and then he replied in his quiet, deep voice, “I will do my best to get as much work done as I can --”

“Without burning yourself out,” you interrupted.

“Without burning myself out,” he promised. “And then we can enjoy our vacation together next month.”

You carefully untangled one of your arms from his embrace and held it out, extending your pinky finger toward him. “I will do all the planning, and I promise you it will be exactly the break you need.”

When you turned your head as much as you could to look up at him, you saw that familiar shy, astoundingly handsome smile on your boyfriend’s lips.

He lifted his own arm, hooking his pinky around yours before the two of you stamped your promise together with the pads of your thumbs.

“I can’t wait,” he murmured, now looking down at you with those warm, sparkling eyes of his.

“Me neither,” you beamed. And then you pushed yourself up just enough to capture his lips in a kiss.

After a few more kisses, you settled back against his chest and allowed him to simply hold you while the two of you looked up at the stars.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed out there, but when you realized the air was getting more of a chill to it, you figured it was time to call it a night and head inside.

As Joo Hyuk closed and locked the door to the balcony behind you, you shuffled into the kitchen toward your electric kettle.

“Would you like some tea?” you asked before taking the kettle over to the sink so you could fill it up.

You heard him hum in response, but you’d spent enough time with him by now to know that particular hum meant yes.

Just after you heard the hum, you heard the sound of his slippers scuffing across the floor. The sound got closer to you, so you quickly grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, setting them down on the counter just in time before he slid his arms around your shoulders and leaned over to press his cheek against yours.

You had just cuddled on the balcony for quite some time -- and now Joo Hyuk wanted more?

He really wasn’t the most affectionate person. He had no trouble telling and showing you he loved you in other ways, but he very rarely initiated cuddle sessions, and hand holding was about as far as he ever went out in public.

“I love you,” he murmured as he held you against his chest. “Thank you for being so amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed a little at his words. “I love you, too,” you replied through a shy grin.

And since the kettle was still working on bringing the water to a boil, you turned around to face him, winding your arms around his middle and tilting your head up to look at him.

“I love you, too,” you repeated. “And I just don’t want you to get burnt out. I want you to be able to talk to me about stuff that stresses you out so you can unload it all here at home.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s never been easy for you to talk about stuff like that --”

“But you make it a lot easier,” he interrupted.

Your grin reappeared, and you moved just enough so you could kiss him.

Joo Hyuk was really unlike anyone you’d ever met -- he had his flaws, of course, and your relationship wasn’t always beautiful rainbows and butterflies.

But, like he said, he made it a lot easier. You absolutely wouldn’t want to do life with anyone else.

“And, hey,” he murmured. “For this trip... since I know you’ll do all the planning, I want you to go all out.”

You raised your eyebrows a little and shot him a curious, surprised look.

“I’ve been working way too hard, and I want to treat us. Find the nicest place to stay, the best restaurants -- whatever.”

Of course, his request made you just a tad nervous. It was very unusual to spend that much money on a vacation...

But you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you more excited to plan it.

“You got it,” you nodded.

Just before you placed your lips on his again, you heard the soft click of the kettle turning itself off.

Even though Joo Hyuk was so clearly stressed out from work and on his way to complete mental exhaustion, it had been a nice night.

A very nice night.

Sharing a chair on the balcony, looking at the stars, planning a vacation.

And ending it with a soothing cup of tea was the perfect touch. You wanted to snuggle in bed, sip your drinks, and worry about nothing -- not even planning the trip.

That you would do tomorrow. You could wait to start researching, but you couldn’t wait that long.

Part 2

#kwritersworldnet #nam joo hyuk scenarios #nam joo hyuk imagines #nam joo hyuk au #nam joo hyuk fanfic #nam hoo hyuk fluff #nam joo hyuk #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagines #kdrama au #kdrama fluff #kdrama fanfic #kdrama actor #korean actor

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juliandev0rak · 3 years ago

Text

Into The Wild

Chapter 3: Goldenrod

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

Words: 3055

“Willa! She took my beads!”

“Willa, Lucio told us there are sharks in the lake, is that true?”

“Willa I got a paper cut!”

Willa takes a seat at the front of the arts and crafts cabin and takes a moment to breathe and re-center. She’s been at Camp Vesuvia for two weeks now, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t exhausted from being constantly on. Someone always needs something from her, and there's only so much coffee one person can drink to stay energetic and peppy through it all.

She gives herself thirty more seconds to wallow a bit, and then she’ll get back to the campers. Willa breathes in slowly as she watches the little hand on her watch tick out the seconds, and exhales. Thirty seconds are up.

“Ok campers, gather up!” Willa calls, her enthusiasm only slightly fabricated, her smile only slightly tired.

Thirty minutes later, the campers are happily working on their art projects and Willa has another chance for a break. She likes to give them free choice most of the time, they can do anything they want with the supplies in the cabin. Some of the campers are painting, others making bracelets, and one kid in the corner seems to be making a spaceship out of modeling clay. It's chaos, but Willa likes to think it's the organized kind, or at least the fun kind.

She steps outside to check on a group of campers making flower chains, humming as she walks. The hum gets stuck in her throat as Willa stops, looking around the empty clearing in confusion, and then panic. The kids she’d seen only five minutes before have vanished, and though it's not unusual for campers to wander off to some other activity, they’re supposed to tell her first.

Willa is about to call Nadia for help when she hears a camper’s voice say, “Is that a wolf!?”

The word “wolf” puts her on alert and Willa hurriedly follows the sound of the camper around the side of the arts and crafts cabin. She sighs in relief at the sight of the kids she’d been looking for. And sure enough, they’re busy petting a large black wolf.

Her first instinct is to pull the campers away, but the wolf looks up at her with kind eyes and Willa realizes that she knows this wolf. “Inanna! What are you doing here?” She scratches her behind the ears and Inanna sniffs at her hand happily. “Is Muriel around?”

Inanna stops licking her and turns towards the building next door, a storage shed with a door ajar, and Willa realizes that Inanna is giving her directions. She turns towards the campers first to give them a quick lecture on not approaching unfamiliar animals, especially wolves, and sends them back inside. Muriel steps out of the storage shed and nearly hits his head on the top of the door frame in his surprise as he sees Willa.

“Muriel! Over here!” she calls, waving him over. For a moment it looks like he’s going to walk away, but he finally turns towards her. He stops several feet away and Inanna trots over to his side.

“Can I help you with something?” Muriel asks.

“I was just wondering what you’re doing,” Willa smiles, leaning down to pick up a flower one of the campers had dropped on the path. It’s a dandelion, some people would call it a weed, but Willa has always liked those sorts of flowers best.

“I’m working.”

“What are you working on?”

Muriel looks at her warily. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Yes, I’ve been told that before,” she laughs, her fingers busy twirling the stem of the flower.

“I help Nadia sometimes, around the camp. There was a light out in the shed,” Muriel explains, pointing back towards the small cabin he’d just exited.

“Oh, we’ve got a lightbulb out in the arts and crafts cabin too! I uh, couldn’t reach it and i couldn’t find a ladder or I would’ve changed it myself,” Willa turns towards the still open cabin door. She points to the back corner where a lightbulb flickers faintly. “If you’ve got a minute, could you replace it?”

Muriel regards her for a moment and then turns to walk away in the opposite direction. She watches him incredulously and walks back into the cabin with a huff, “How rude.”

A few minutes later, Willa is busy helping a camper with a tangled bracelet when Muriel enters the cabin. A few of the campers greet him as “Ranger Muriel” and Willa can’t help but smile at the way he greets the campers back. He knows a lot of their names and seems interested in the projects they’re working on.

“Where did you go?” Willa asks as he approaches her table.

“To get a lightbulb.” He holds it up to show her and crosses over to the left side of the room where the dead light is.

“Oh,” Willa says, feeling bad for assuming he was being rude. “Thank you.”

It takes him only a minute to change out the lightbulb, but when he’s done he doesn’t leave. Instead, he walks over to where Willa is sitting, awkwardly hovering for a minute before she notices him and looks up.

“What are you working on?” he asks. It takes him a minute to get all of the words out, as if the question took a lot of effort to ask.

“I’m making a friendship bracelet!” She holds it up to show him. It’s a design of her own making, a repeating pattern of different kinds of leaves all made in green thread. If a certain green-eyed park ranger was the inspiration for the color palette, she’ll never tell.

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you!” Willa says proudly, setting the bracelet back down carefully. “Would you like to make one?”

Muriel takes a step towards the door. “I should get back to the station.”

“Of course. Feel free to stop by any time!” she smiles. He gives her a nod as he leaves, and Willa’s attention is soon pulled away by campers.

Later that evening, Willa finds herself huddled over the fire pit mourning the loss of yet another marshmallow. She can’t seem to toast a marshmallow without catching it on fire. Asra comes over to watch as she tries again, and this time goes marginally better, she’s able to blow the fire out before her marshmallow burns to a crisp.

“I wouldn’t eat that,” Asra says, eyeing the charcoal colored marshmallow.

Willa adds a piece of chocolate and smushes it between two graham crackers without a care. She eats the s’more in one giant bite, wiping chocolate off of her chin as she chews. “Well, it’s a good thing that was my marshmallow then.”

“You’re bad at s’mores,” Asra frowns.

“There’s no wrong way to s’more, Asra, you’re a marshmallow snob!” Willa points the end of her metal marshmallow skewer at him and he backs up, holding his hands up defensively.

“I am not, I just prefer my s’mores to be edible.”

“Perhaps my tastebuds are more developed than yours,” Willa teases, “I can appreciate the delicate flavor of blackened marshmallow.”

“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that,” Asra laughs. He walks off to join the rest of the camp staff on the other side of the amphitheater, leaving Willa to her marshmallow pyromania.

“You’re too impatient, you have to cook it low and slow,” the now-familiar gruff voice comes from behind Willa, startling her.

She turns towards Muriel, her face pulling into a grin at the sight of him, “You came!”

Muriel’s lips pull up into the barest hint of a smile as he looks back at her, but his eyes quickly shift away. “You’re a fire hazard, I had to make sure you weren’t going to set the forest on fire.”

“It’s not my fault all the marshmallows spontaneously combust!”

“You’re too impatient,” Muriel repeats.

“I am not impatient!” Willa frowns and shoves another marshmallow onto her skewer, nearly stabbing her hand on the pointy end.

“Careful,” Muriel eyes her cautiously, keeping a safe distance away from the sharp end of her stick.

“Fine, if you’re so good at roasting marshmallows show me how to do it.” Willa holds the skewer out to him and he grabs it, their hands briefly touching as she passes it over. They both recoil as if they’ve been burned and Muriel clears his throat as he turns away from her and towards the fire.

“Hold it over a smaller piece of wood, away from the fire.” Muriel demonstrates, holding the marshmallow low over one of the smoldering logs instead of putting it directly into the fire as Willa does. She watches him intently, but she’s looking at his face rather than the marshmallow lesson. In the firelight, she traces the sharp line of his jaw with her eyes, marking the shape of his nose, his eyebrows, his lips.

“See?” Muriel hands her the skewer, breaking her out of her daze. Sure enough, the marshmallow is perfectly golden brown, not a burn mark in sight.

“You’re a wizard, this has to be witchcraft,” Willa marvels. But even magical marshmallows need to be eaten. She prepares a s’more and hands it to Muriel, who seems quite surprised to be handed the sweet treat.

“It’s not magic, it’s patience.” Muriel takes a bite of the s’more and Willa watches as his eyes close halfway and his lips pull into another rare smile at the taste. He must like sweets, Willa makes a note to remember that. Maybe she’ll bake him something. She notices a bit of chocolate on his cheek, next to his lips, and reaches up to brush it off without a thought.

“You had chocolate on your face,” she explains as Muriel pulls back in surprise. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Muriel looks away, but the fire is just bright enough to illuminate his blushing face.

“Alright, I’m gonna try it,” Willa changes the subject, sparing them both the awkwardness. She prepares another marshmallow, gently rotating it over the log as she’d seen Muriel do.

Her marshmallow is not quite as perfect as Muriel’s was, but it still tastes great. Whether it's the amount of sugar she’s had or her proximity to Muriel, she feels more awake than she has all week, and bolder too. “I made you something.”

“You— what?” Muriel’s eyes widen as he looks at her.

“I made you a friendship bracelet.” Willa reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls the bracelet out. She doesn’t know when she decided to give it to him, but it feels like he should have it.

“A friendship bracelet?”

“Yes! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Willa holds it out to him and he takes it, holding it carefully as if it’s breakable.

“I guess.”

Willa laughs, shaking her head at his comment. “You saved me from a bear, that makes us friends.”

Muriel holds the bracelet in the palm of his hand, his eyes still glued to the green woven threads. “You don’t have to give me this, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I made it with you in mind,” Willa admits. “Here let me help you put it on, if you want.”

Muriel holds his wrist out, and when Willa’s hand rests on his arm they both freeze, looking at each other briefly before their eyes move away. She tries to focus on the task at hand and carefully ties the bracelet onto his wrist. His skin is so warm against hers, and his hand is calloused. Willa resists the urge to run her fingers along the lines of his palm, but she still lets her hands linger longer than they should.

“There. I think it suits you.” Willa takes a step back and sits down on the amphitheater bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. Muriel hesitates for a moment before taking a seat next to her, closer than she would’ve expected. They sit in companionable silence for a minute until two campers run up to ask Willa a question.

“You’re good with them,” Muriel comments after the kids have scampered off.

“The campers are sweet, most of the time,” Willa smiles, thinking of some of the more mischievous kids she’s met over the last few weeks. “I think it must be hard to be away from your family for so long, eight weeks is a long time for a child.”

“Mmm,” Muriel agrees. He busies himself with tracing the leaf pattern on his bracelet, his fingers working their way around the trail of leaves and back around again.

Willa leans back, tilting her head up towards the sky and the stars which are just starting to appear. “I was shy as a kid, and I pretty much only had my family since we lived in the middle of nowhere. I think a camp like this would’ve been good for me. I did go camping with my family a few times, but that’s not the same. Did you ever go to camp as a kid?”

“No.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I never knew my family,” Muriel replies, looking vaguely uncomfortable at the admission.

She turns to look at him, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Muriel nods at her sympathetic comment and turns to look up at the sky. He shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and sighs, his voice a bit softer as he asks, “Do you have siblings?”

“I’ve got two brothers, one older and one younger,” Willa replies, her thoughts turning to the family she left behind to move to the city. It's been years since she last saw her brothers, and being in a place like this makes her miss them more than usual.

“Do you miss your family?” Muriel seems surprised at his own question, as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“I miss my brothers, but my parents... well, I think we get along better from a distance,” she sighs. “Things are complicated.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” For a moment Willa thinks about saying more. She wants to tell him everything, where she’s been, where she wants to go. She’s pretty sure that he’d listen. But Willa’s not ready for that yet, she doesn’t want to ruin the fragile friendship they have, so she changes the subject again.

“A few of us are going into town later since we have tomorrow off. There’s a little bar that does karaoke on Friday nights, Asra and Portia roped me into it. You could come with us if you want.” She has a feeling she already knows what his answer will be, but she doesn’t want to miss out on the slight chance of spending more time with him.

“I don’t sing.”

“Well, I must warn you, if you don’t go you’ll be missing out on Asra and I dueting every song in ABBA’s discography, complete with choreography,” she says. To her surprise Muriel laughs, the sound deep and gravely and somehow very comforting. Willa joins in with him, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

“I hope you have fun.”

“If I come back tomorrow with my voice gone, blame Asra,” she laughs, looking across the fire at her friend who is busy talking to Nadia.

A few moments pass in silence as Willa watches sparks fly from the fire, bright spots of gold standing out against the dark sky. Finally she looks up at Muriel, her breath catching a little in her throat as she tries to think of something to say. She wants to ask him to stay, to spend more time with her, but instead she says, “Thanks for showing me how to roast the perfect marshmallow.”

She playfully nudges his shoulder with hers and Muriel looks down at her. He stiffens a bit but doesn’t pull away as she lets her shoulder rest against his arm. Then suddenly Asra is standing in front of her and Willa pulls away from Muriel, trying to hide the way her face flushes.

“Willa, you ready to go?” Asra asks, giving her a teasing grin.

“Yep!” Her voice is a tad too loud and she winces at the squeakiness. She stands up and brushes dirt off of her jeans, turning back to look at Muriel again. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll see you around, then.” Willa turns away, taking a step towards Asra.

“Willa, wait,” Muriel calls, and her heart leaps into her throat as she looks back at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the bracelet. It’s nice,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear him.

“You’re welcome! We’re friends, that’s what friends do.” She gives him one last smile and turns to follow Asra and Portia out of the amphitheater.

“So, ‘friends’ huh?” Asra teases.

“Shut up or I’m not singing Mamma Mia with you,” Willa grumbles.

Asra puts his arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “You wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“I hate that you’re right.”

“I’m usually right. And am I also right in guessing that you have a crush on Muriel?”

“Oh please, that’s not a guess, that's just an obvious fact,” Portia adds. “Even the campers know about it.”

“They do!?” Willa’s eyes go wide, wondering how the whole camp could possibly know when she’s only just figuring it out herself.

“Yeah, earlier I heard a camper say that they ‘ship it’,” Asra laughs.

Willa puts her head in her hands, shaking her head in dismay. “Oh no.”

“So...you’re not denying it?” Asra asks. Willa’s car comes into view as they walk up the hill towards the front of camp and she tosses her keys at Asra.

“You can drive.”

“Answer the question,” Portia prods as she gets into the back seat of the car.

“I’m not denying it.” Both of her friends turn to look at her with mouths wide open in surprise and Willa flushes red, focusing her attention on buckling her seatbelt.

“So you admit it then, you have a crush on him?” Portia grins. “Oh, I definitely have a crush on him,” Willa sighs.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Asra asks.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

✧

#c h a p t e r 3 !#this was so fun to write ahh i love them...#asra and portia are ideal best friends i feel like drunk karaoke with them would be hilarious #i almost went to the craft store to buy supplies for making friendship bracelets after this lol #i have also really been craving a s'more #willa wednesday #willa clary #apprentice willa #muriel the arcana #milla

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Worthy (pt4)

Author’s note: I am crappy at tagging people. Inbox me if you want to be added, and just keep poking me if I keep forgetting to add you. <3 @rampant-salamander @bolontiku

I had to wonder if the powers from Thor’s hammer included allowing me to disappear into the floor so I would not have to face the source of my embarrassment again. I wanted to slam the bathroom door and lock it and hide until Thor left. But I somehow guessed his sense of chivalry would be too great to just leave me to die of embarrassment and he would do something stupid, like breaking down the door, to ensure I was okay, instead of just understanding I needed to lick my wounds in private. Particularly when he thought humans were prudish about nudity. Did they walk around in Thor-land buck naked all the time? I mean, if they all looked like Thor that might not be a bad thing. I was far too conscious of my lumps and cellulite and stretch marks to be okay with joining them in the nude party though.

I dropped the towel and looked at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror, trying to guess what he must have thought when he hauled me off the floor. I was pale. I’d been far too busy finishing my thesis to be out in the sun in the spring, and it was obvious by the way my arms were the same fish belly white as my stomach. The time spent in the lab showed on my tummy and hips and thighs, all of which were broader than they’d ever been before. My roommate had said curvier was a nicer word, but I knew exactly how many slices of pizza had contributed to each new curve, and the fact that none of that skin had seen the sun in months made me feel bigger. I couldn’t lie and say I was completely unsatisfied with my body. I was just bigger than I’d been, and more uncomfortable in my skin. I’d promised myself I’d find some sort of activity to balance with my work life, for no other reason than for my health. I just didn’t buy into hating myself because I didn’t belong on the pages of a magazine. My body housed my brain, and my brain was pretty awesome. The rest was just packaging and resources for keeping my brain safe and at optimal function. But that was what I thought. I cast a critical eye on myself trying to figure out what Thor would have thought seeing me bare-assed on the floor. Given his impatience with my modesty, he probably hadn’t thought much at all.

I pulled my pyjamas on, and had to laugh at myself. The spaghetti strapped tank-top and boxer shorts didn’t cover much more than my towel had. But I couldn’t cross the living room again to find something else if I ever wanted to get rid of the man-god sitting in my living room.

I steeled my courage and opened the bathroom door. He’d figured out how to turn on my television, and had stopped on what appeared to be a documentary about the Avengers Initiative. He laughed at the television and shook his head, then clicked it off when he realized I’d come into the room.

“Do you want something to drink?” I offered.

“I rather think you do not wish for me to stay that long, Ella Carmichael.” He pushed himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen where I was refilling my wine glass.

“You know, you can just call me Ella. It’s weird to use someone’s first and last name,” I commented. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? I hate to drink alone.” I held the bottle up in offering. I could see him hesitate for a moment, probably contemplating the honour involved in drinking wine or something.

“If you insist,” he smirked. I poured him a glass and came around the kitchen island to hand it to him. When he took the glass from me, he narrowed his eyes and took my wrist into his hand. He turned it over, palm facing up and ran his thumb across it. I’m not ashamed to admit I got goosebumps; it was more intimate than I’d been touched in recent memory.

“Have you always had that mark?” I realized he was running his thumb around my left hand in a pattern. I looked down, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“I can’t see any mark.” I pulled my hand away and held it under the bright light over the island. Nothing. Thor took my hand again and looked closer, and traced the design out again on my palm. He was seeing something that I was not. He dropped my hand and picked up the hammer from where he’d placed it on the floor by my front door. He put it carefully down on the granite countertop of the island, and pointed at a big fancy three pointed knot on the face of the hammer.

“This is called a triquetra. It is also on your hand. I would know how long it has been there,” he explained. I shrugged.

“Well, I can’t see anything at all. But that’s the hand I picked up myewlnor with. Maybe it left a mark?” I knew I was completely butchering the name of the hammer, but god knows I couldn’t remember how to say it.

“Mjolnir.” Of course he would correct me.

“Mee-owl-neer?” I tried again.

“Mjolnir.”

“M-yol-neer.” I was reasonably sure I had it right that time. He nodded, and took my right hand in his, flipping the palm up. He traced his thumb around in the same pattern.

“It’s on this hand as well. This is a mystery. I do not know you well, Ella, but Tony seems to think you quite intelligent. Intelligence is not all there is to worth. But it is perhaps somewhere to start,” He pondered. I bit my lip.

“I don’t know how you judge worthiness where you’re from, but I’m not anything special. I don’t run around rescuing kittens from trees, or saving maidens from dragons, or curing cancer. I can’t even donate blood. I have some weird antibody.” I protested. Thor’s mouth cocked to one side in a grin.

“I have never done those things myself, and yet I am worthy. I will speak to my father,” he determined. He finished his glass of wine.

“You appear well. Your colour has come back, and you no longer show the signs of shock. I bid you good rest, Ella Carmichael. Thank you for sharing your libation with me, and for indulging my concern,” he bowed his head a little, hefted the hammer and turned. I followed him to the door. He turned as he crossed the threshold and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I will bring news once I have more understanding of what has happened.”

XXX

“So Thor saw me naked last night.” It was quite possibly the best first-line I’ve ever had. And I got to drop it on Angela as we walked through the build-a-Belgian-waffle line. She dropped her fork on the floor with a loud clatter.

“What? Naked? How?”

“Well, it all started when I had no clothes on,” I began.

“Seriously, Ella. What happened?” She demanded.

“Seriously. I was taking a bath and he knocked on the door. I figured it was you with the passcard, even though I’d said it could wait. So I wrapped my uber-skimpy-Stark-Industries-micro-towel around me, figuring I’d be opening the door a crack and accepting a passcard from you. He was at the door. And he just invited himself in, plain as you like. Said he was concerned about me,” I started. Angela shook her head, and as we walked through the waffle decorating station, I finished filling in all the details.

Once we were seated at a table, she took one of my hands and looked at it.

“I don’t see it either,” she sighed. “Do you suppose he has weird powers that let him see through things? Maybe that’s why he didn’t care that you were naked. Maybe he sees all of us as naked all the time.”

“You’re confusing him with Superman,” I laughed. “He has x-ray vision.”

“Superman is a comic book character! Thor is real! Who knows what all his powers are.” She cut her waffle up and started in on it. I pushed my waffle around the plate a little and drank my coffee. I didn’t like waffles. At all. I ate the mountain of fruit I’d piled on top of it, but couldn’t bring myself to get into the waffle itself.

“Well, not making a big deal about naked women is one of them. He made it clear he thought my prudishness was weird.”

“He’s weird. Most men would be hard pressed to not scope you out, regardless of how cool they tried to appear,” she stated, and then made a gesture that looked a little like jazz-hands. “Oh-em-gee! Boobies! Play it cool, dude. Play it cool, and she won’t cover up and then? More Boobies!” Her fake-guy voice was hilarious.

I snorted on my coffee. “I’m hardly in peak physical condition. He probably was just horrified by the wiggly bits and stretch marks.”

“I don’t think they see past the boobies, to be completely honest,” she laughed. I shook my head and finished my fruit. I’d effectively smushed up the waffle until it looked like I’d eaten some of it.

“What is on the agenda for me today, boss?” I changed the topic and drank my coffee. Angela pulled out a tablet and flicked through it.

“More orientation stuff. We’re going to go to distribution, and learn how to requisition things for your project. And how to req for your apartment too. And how different the two forms are and how important it is to make sure you use the right form,” she started. “Here’s a hint. The importance of using the correct form is inversely proportional to how similar the forms are to one another. You won’t believe that will take most of the morning, but it will. Then you’re seeing Markus after lunch.”

“Can I order bigger towels from distribution? Because the towels in my apartment are ridiculously small.”

“I don’t think so. But you can also requisition outside items from your in-suite purchasing app. Or I can just take you to Macy’s after work,” she suggested. “Are you not going to eat the waffle?”

“Confession?” I made a face. She nodded. “I hate waffles. They’re like a pancake with a skin disease. Disgusting.”

“I take back every nice thing I said about you. Waffles are amazing. Those are flavour pouches.” The look on her face was enough to make me bite my lip to prevent the laughter from slipping free. She was gripping her table knife like she might actually stab me. It would be a sticky ignominious death by maple syrup.

“Flavour pustules, maybe. So gross. I’m more of a bacon and eggs girl,” I admitted. Angela shook her head, her eyes cast downward in disappointment. She finally cracked the tiniest grin.

“Damn good thing you’re funny. Because that might be a deal-breaker otherwise. Come on. Bus your table. Let’s get you off to distribution so you can learn about the pedantry of requisitions.” She winked and grabbed her tray, leading the way over to the kitchen cart before directing us back to the elevator.

Distribution might not have been mired down in red tape, bureaucracy and shenanigans if they’d had a single window. But they were located in a sub-level of the building, below the parkade, completely walled in. There was a single door in, and it was right beside the loading bay. The staff kind of looked like they were a lost race of mole people. They were pale, suspicious of visitors and seemed a little paranoid that the rest of the company was out to make their lives miserable on purpose. The main stock clerk all but hissed at us when we came in.

Angela made quick work of running through the requisition forms. There was a single line that delineated personal requisitions from project reqs, and it was required for payroll deduction where appropriate. It was fair enough, but wouldn’t it have been simpler just to colour code the forms? I asked Angela as much and she clamped her hand over my mouth.

“Do you want to be barred from ordering things? Don’t rock the boat!” She hissed. “If you can control yourself, I want to show you heaven. This is the one thing that distribution does right.” She led me over to a table that had a pile of different catalogues on it. “This is the only part of Stark Industries that is still analogue because catalogues are so much easier than websites. And here’s where your colour coding idea comes into play. Blue catalogues are filled with workplace supplies, divided by shade of blue. The light blue cover is office supplies; the dark blue cover is electrical doodads, etc. You’ll learn them as you need to. The yellow covers are personal items. Light yellow is Stark Industries branded stuff. I do most of my Christmas shopping in the light yellow. My dad has a thing for polo shirts and golf balls. Goldenrod is household items that are covered by your living allowance. Stuff like bedding, kitchen utensils, towels. I think there’s a surround sound upgrade in there.” She handed me a pencil and flipped the Goldenrod covered catalogue open to bathroom stuff. The towel page was dog-eared. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who hated the mini-towels that came standard in the room. I filled in a requisition for towels and a plush bathrobe.

Angela brought me back to the stock clerk’s desk and walked me through the process for submitting the order. It was complicated. I almost expected to need to know a secret handshake to complete the transaction.

“So that should all be delivered before the day is over.” She led me back out of the department. True to her word, the distribution department and requisition in-service had taken us almost to lunch. We stepped off the elevator on the floor for my research division. “I figured I’d show you your desk before we eat lunch.”

We rounded a corner into the lab area. The space was wide open, from window to window. There were workstations at the periphery of the room. I assumed the conspicuously empty one was mine, but Angela walked right past it to a desk that was covered in stuff. There was a pile of paperwork on one corner that at first glance I thought was probably the information relating to my proposals. The desk itself was one of the Stark Industries touch responsive computers that I’d been desperate to try since the first time I saw one. The monitor was carefully suspended from the ceiling, keeping the desk as clear as possible. On the far side of the desk was a small cactus with a little plastic welcome stick pressed into the dirt, and a box of office supplies.

Angela made quick work of logging me into the computer. The log in sequence unlocked the desk drawers, so I was able to clear my desktop with one sweep of my arm into the top drawer. Angela sucked in her breath in response to the action.

“I will organize myself later. For now, that desk needs to be clear, if I’m ever going to work at it,” I explained. She grabbed the cactus protectively and held it away from my reach.

“Promise you won’t hurt the plant,” she demanded.

“Sure,” I agreed. She put the plant back down and disappeared across the lab, quickly returning with what looked like a shelf. While I watched, she mounted it to the window behind my desk. How she did it was a mystery, it looked like it was just hanging there. Some sort of mysterious Stark Tech, I suppose. She took the cactus and placed it on the corner of the shelf, her shoulders square in defiance of my otherwise blasé organizational skills. As though she already knew that I wasn’t going to organize my desk drawers later. I looked over at the desk beside me and saw that all the way down the bank of windows, there were shelves mounted against the windows, holding the various personal treasures of the employees assigned to each desk. My shelf looked kind of boring with just the cactus on it.

“Okay, let’s get lunch. You’ve got your meeting with Markus in 45 minutes.” Angela steered me back out of the lab and over to the elevator.

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Where you should be

Chapter 1: Prevaricate

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 5.6k

Prevaricate (v.) : to speak or act in an evasive way

Present Time

There’s a reason why I’ve been working under a pseudonym for the entirety of my career at Bighit and never show up in photos that are going to be sent out on social media. There’s a reason why the very people I work for have hardly seen me.

After Bang Si-hyuk met me as a junior producer at another agency and saw that I was hardly working enough hours a week to survive, he gave me a one-time opportunity to prove myself. I would work at my agency in the mornings and then head out to the Bighit building in the evenings to meet up with Pdogg and Slow Rabbit who were more than happy to give me a shot behind the producer’s chair.

In the end, Adora was my biggest advocate. I heard her the day I was waiting for the verdict, speaking firmly with Bang PD in his office.

“If you let her go you’ll be screwing yourself over. I’ve seen her work, she’s a machine. I haven’t seen anyone like her. She’d be an asset to this team and we both know that we need that right now.”

It was the beginning of 2018 when Bang PD marched into Pdogg’s studio where I was working with him and told me the plan.

My contract at the other agency still had six years left on it, there was no way out of it. That had been Bang PD’s main concern, but when he looked at his star studded BTS and saw just how badly they needed a fresh perspective, he decided to go all in. So what did he do?

He bought out my old agency.

Naturally.

Source entertainment, the previous house of GFRIEND, still had their logo and a hand in their decisions. However with Bang Si-hyuk their new CEO they really didn’t have much of a say in my promotion.

Two and a half years later, life is pretty good. Well, besides the fact that I’m still living under a rock.

Let me explain: Source entertainment gladly sold their company to Bighit entertainment...under one condition. They didn’t want anyone to know why they were bought out in the first place. Not being able to keep a hold of a young female producer sounded pretty pitiful to them.

It just so happened that my name was starting to circulate around the different agencies around the time Bang PD took me in, and a few were out shopping for a new producer. Once word got out that I was the one behind “Navillera” things started to go downhill.

Sometimes I really feel like I can empathize with Rapunzel, locked up in her tower. At least my tower has a sweet stereo system. Equipped with a pseudonym and surrounded by speculation, I live an interesting life.

You see, nobody actually knows that I bailed Source for Bighit, although many suspect as much. When ‘trackers’ from other agencies began to snoop around for my whereabouts, Bang PD gave me a choice.

Either work so far behind the scenes that I would never see any action but would stay safe from prying eyes, or adopt a pseudonym and be alert for people showing up at my door offering me a higher salary.

There are a lot of things I wish I’d known before I began my career. However, there is one thing in particular I would have liked to known before jumping over to Bighit: cameras have never been able to capture Jung Hoseok in his full glory, and I doubt they ever will.

Mid July, 2018

“Have you eaten?”

Hoseok’s voice is muffled through my headphones, but I quickly slip them off my head and turn to see him standing in the doorway.

“Me?” As soon as I ask the question I know that it isn’t the most intelligent. The room is empty except for me.

Hoseok doesn’t tease me too much, instead stepping into my small studio that I share with a couple of other producers. “Yes, you.” Producing a giant bag of takeout, he lofts it up in the air. “You’ve been here all day and I’m pretty sure you haven’t left this room once.”

I’ve begun seeing Hoseok more frequently around the company building, he’s taken up the habit of stopping into Slow Rabbit’s studio more often during the day. We’ll make some small talk, talk about work and upcoming plans. But this? Just showing up at my small studio with food? That’s definitely never happened before. We’re not even on a first name basis.

I didn’t even know he knew where my studio was. If we’re ever in the same room together it’s either in a big staff meeting with all the producers or in Slow Rabbit’s studio.

Taking a long look between the food and my workload, I sigh and push some of my stuff away, creating a space for the food. Hoseok hollers and grabs a chair for himself, wasting no time in plopping down beside me and pulling out the cartons.

I must be staring at him like he has three heads, because he’s freezing in his tracks when he catches my eye.

“What?” He asks innocently.

I laugh lightly, hoping that he doesn't misinterpret what I say next. “I just wasn't expecting to see you, much less with food.”

“Oh,” he hesitantly passes me a carton. “Yeah, kind of weird, I know. I just thought you might like something to eat. I know how grueling work can be when you’re just starting out, and you’ve got a lot of competition here. No matter how hard it all gets you can’t forget to eat and sleep, alright?”

I nod slowly, watching as he looks utterly unfazed and begins slurping up his food. That’s when I realize that we’ll be eating together.

It’s oddly quiet in the studio that’s usually filled to the brim with music, but it’s nice. “How did you even know that I’d be in here?”

Hoseok shrugs, glancing my way. “Slow Rabbit said that you haven’t showed up for your usual lunch with him all week; I figured today would be the same.”

He talked to Dohyeong about me? Somehow that thought leaves me feeling a little off-balance.

“Thank you.”

Giving me his award winning smile, Hoseok nods. “Hobi. Just call me Hobi.”

Busying myself with my food, I nod. “Thank you, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome...” He looks at me expectantly and I realize that he’s not interested in calling me by my stage name, Sunny.

“Oh. Ha-rin.”

He nods, satisfied for the moment. Diving into his food again, he clears his throat. “Mind if I come back tomorrow?”

January 2019

Lunch with Hobi becomes the new normal. Whenever he has a free spot in his schedule he just shows up at the studio. Sometimes we have lunch around 12, other days it’s more like 8. Either way, he always sends me a text asking me if he can eat lunch in the studio, and chances are I’m still hanging around. He gives me a tentative time, and I always find a way to say yes.

I don’t think I’ve paid for lunch for six months straight. To be honest, it’s really nice. On the other hand, I feel a little guilty. Whenever I bring it up, Hobi just waves me off.

Nearly on the verge of tearing my hair out as I struggle with the title track of TXT’s debut album, Hobi sends me a text telling me that he’s on his way over with the goods. It doesn’t take him long to show up, plopping down beside me and placing the food in front of me before I can even take my headphones off.

“I’ll order next time?” I ask tentatively. We’ve had this conversation several times already, but I can’t quite seem to win.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hobi says as he continues on in his meal. I glare at him.

“Well, I do worry about it. You don’t need to keep doing this, Hobi.”

Now he sets down his food and turns to look at me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt today, and his hair has been recently dyed with honey-brown highlights. When I first saw him in the doorway of the studio with his usual bag of food, I had to remind myself to breathe.

He looks good.

“Yes I do.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly agreed with him before stopping.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little annoyed. “I’m not some pity case that you have to foster until I make a name for myself, you know.”

As soon as I say it I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Hobi blinks before starting to laugh, applauding my bravado.

“Wow!” He says through his laughter. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

I just shrug, too mortified to say anything else. Heaven knows I’m too high-strung at the moment to be trusted to say anything else.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’re not a pity case. Do you feel like you’re a pity case?” Hobi turns what should have offended him into a shovel to dig around my brain a bit.

Shaking my head, I sneak a peek over at him. He’s sitting with his legs and arms crossed, looking at me intently.

“...no.”

I don’t sound that convincing, that much is clear on Hoseok’s face. Leaning forward in his chair, he looks like he’s thinking over something important but remains silent for a moment. I take the temporary silence to eat a bit more of my food, only then noticing that it’s ramyeon.

The thought of Hoseok taking some of the packets of ramyeon from the break room and sneaking down here with them makes me want to laugh and cry.

“Pdogg said you’re working on TXT’s title track. It’s your first big project here; how are you feeling?”

The question takes me off guard, and I slurp up the rest of my noodles before I respond. “Alright, I guess. It’s been a while since I had to start on a track from square one.”

A look of understanding dawn on Hoseok’s face. “That’s stressful. But that also says a lot that you’re trusted with so much.”

Shrugging, I drink the last bit of the broth before tossing my cup in the trash. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think Bang PD is trying to kill me.”

“Really?” J-hope frowns before also finishing off his ramyeon. “I could help you, if you want.”

I shake my head firmly, watching as he laughs as though he’d expected as much. “No, I need to do this on my own. I think I’m nearly there, anyways.”

“So that’s why you never leave the studio these days,” he muses.

“Exactly.”

Normally Hoseok is pretty quick in his visits; we eat and he leaves as soon as he’s finished. I’m honestly surprised that he has enough time to eat with me nearly every day. Today though, he lingers. I can tell that he’s chewing on a thought, and I turn to him, raising my eyebrows.

“Are you about to tell me I can get us food next time?”

He blinks at me, laughing. “No, not that. I know you won’t let me help you with producing; that’s fine. But will you at least let me listen to the track when you feel like it’s good enough?”

Hoseok and I are at a strange crossroads in our acquaintanceship. Are we friends yet? From the consistency of his lunches and willingness to help me, I believe we are. But then again, this feels completely unbalanced for a friendship. After all, isn’t he the one putting in all the work?

“That sounds like work, though.” I fold my arms in front of me. “You already work all the time.”

“You won’t even let me listen to it?”

Looking at him, I see how sincere he is in his intentions. Maybe that’s what makes me loosen up a bit, letting go of my insecurities just enough to let him in.

“You promise to tell me if it sucks?”

He giggles, the sound of his little laugh making me smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

Giving him a curt nod, I grab my headphones, ready to get back to work. “Ok.”

He hesitates. “Ok? That’s it?”

My chair swivels to face him, one side of my headphones off my ear so I can hear him. “That’s it. I’m kicking you out now so I can come up with a track decent enough for J-hope to listen to.”

Cackling at my behavior, he holds his hands up in surrender and makes his way out of the studio. “See you tomorrow, Rin-ah.”

I don’t hear him, my headphones firmly planted on my head. Chuckling to himself, Hoseok closes the door on his way out.

Two weeks later

“I think that one’s my favorite,” Hoseok says as he slips the headphones off. I raise my eyebrows.

“Really?”

He nods, smiling softly as he hands the headphones back to me. I put them on, immediately beginning to toggle with the track before me.

“Really. Why, do you not like it?”

I shake my head, eyes glued to the monitor. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...I think that’s the song I hated producing the most. It was by far the most challenging.”

“I can see why. But it sounds like your hard work paid off.”

I forget to breathe for a moment as he reaches out and gently removes the headphones from my head. Placing them on the desk, he crouches beside me and saves the changes I’ve made before closing down the computer.

“What are you doing?” I ask once I’ve remembered how to expand my lungs again. Hoseok straightens up, patting his thighs as though checking he has everything he needs in his pockets.

“That was the final track, right?”

I nod slowly, not catching on. “Yeah, but I’ve still got to review everything and-”

“No.” He looks serious as he shakes his head. “Not tonight. You’ve been locked up in this studio for over a month, I swear.”

Frowning, I turn my swivel chair in a slow circle, glaring at the wall and then Hoseok. “You make it sound like I never leave.”

“Well, do you? I’ve only ever seen you in a studio.”

Scoffing, I stop spinning and face him. “I go home at the end of the day! I shower! Do you really think I don’t shower?!”

Laughing, Hoseok extends a hand out to me which I stare at. My brain is completely fried.

“Sure, ok. You shower. But you leave here late and come back early. You’re finished - you’re practically finished, don’t give me that look - with the album and if you really want to review it, you can tomorrow. But I’ve listened to all the tracks and you deserve a break. Come on.”

He keeps his hand out, waiting for me to take it. Groaning, I grab my phone off the desk and take his hand. Hauling me up and out of the chair, I realize that his hand is larger than I thought it was. And warm.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my studio- it’s only 9 o’clock!” I shout as I see the time. I haven’t been out of the studio before 9 in weeks, usually opting to leave around 1 or 2 in the morning. Hoseok chuckles before me, looking at me over his shoulder until he slows down enough to walk beside me.

“When was the last time you were actually outside for longer than it takes to walk to your car?”

I shrug. “I take the bus. Can’t relate.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Squinting up at him, I curse those honey-brown highlights that are still prominent in his hair. He looks like some sort of model that got lost in the agency building, not my friend that sits with me and offers unsolicited advice.

“I don’t know…” I pout as he opens up the door and we head out into the night air. “A while?”

Laughing, he nods his head. “Yeah, I bet. Here, I’ll give you a ride.”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. “No, that’s fine. I’m ok to take the bus, it stops right in front of my street and everything.”

Hoseok stops with one foot hanging off the curb, ready to head into the parking lot. He tilts his head to the side in that cute habit of his. Struggling to maintain an innocent expression, I watch as he marches back over to me.

“First off, do you consider me a friend?”

I’ve never seen Hoseok’s intense professional side before, but I can see that same tamed fire lurking behind his eyes as he draws nearer.

“I...yes?” I assume that’s the correct answer.

He nods his head before moving on to the next question. “Good. Secondly, I don’t remember saying that I’d give you a ride home. Did I?”

Blinking up at him, I shake my head. “No...but then where are we going?”

In an instant his intense gaze turns into the happy-go lucky expression I’ve come to associate with Hobi. “To celebrate! You just finished producing almost an entire album with only Pdogg for company; that’s a feat in and of itself.” He pauses, looking at me with a soft gaze. “You’re ok with that, right?”

Once I nod Hobi jumps off the curb and leads me to his car. Where I’m expecting a sports car I’m pleased to see a normal, albeit nice, car waiting for us. Opening the door wide for me, he gives me a big smile as I reluctantly get in.

Once he buckles up and starts the car, I turn to look at him. He looks a bit worried behind the driver's seat.

“Are you ok?” I ask. He quickly nods.

“I’m fine...I just don’t tend to drive that often. It’s not my favorite.”

I can’t help but laugh a little at his concerned expression. “Right, I forgot.” He eases out of the parking lot at a slower speed than necessary, but I let it slide. “Why did you drive today?”

He shrugs. “Just felt like it. Are you hungry yet?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I think I could eat again.”

“Great,” Hobi smiles at me before returning his full attention to the road. “I think the boys ordered pizza.”

Heart dropping to my toes, I nearly smack him before I stop myself. “The boys? What are we doing?”

He’s too focused to laugh at my obvious worry, but the ghost of a smile flits across his mouth. “Well, you don’t really seem like the type to hit up clubs and stuff to celebrate, and I figured you’d be tired after everything. So we’re heading to my apartment to eat and maybe watch a movie or something.” He spares me a quick look. “Unless you’d rather go home. Really, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can just drop you off.”

A part of me wants to shrivel up with embarrassment at the thought of hanging out with the rest of BTS tonight; I’ve only ever seen them at work. Unlike with Hobi who I see nearly every day, I’ve only seen the other boys a handful of times.

I doubt they even know my name.

The small part of me that has kept me up staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment spent with Hoseok; his warm smile and soft eyes, the way he says my name and seems so kind...that part has me smiling at the man in the driver’s seat.

“If you can get us all the way to your apartment without crashing this car, I’m down to watch a movie with you guys.”

His eyes light up with something I can’t quite catch before he’s focusing on the road again.

“Perfect. Here, can you figure out how to call Jungkook on this car phone? Tell him what kind of pizza you want.”

Hobi’s apartment can be summarized in one word: clean. When he mentioned going to his apartment, I thought he meant the apartment he shares with the other six members. Instead, we’re at his own apartment. I didn’t even realize he had one of his own.

I say as much when we pull up.

“I tend to split my time between both apartments,” he says, opening up the front door. “However, the floors are being rebuffed at the shared one. So for tonight we’ll be here.”

The smell of pizza intercepts my thoughts as I kick my shoes off and watch with no small amount of amusement the way Hobi delicately places his shoes on the rack. I make sure to follow suit, grinning as he lets out a sigh of relief when I appear to be tidy.

“Helloooo,” Hobi calls as he leads me into the dining area. Jungkook already has his mouth full of pizza when he spots me.

“Oh- mmf...Sunny!” I smile at the boy I just spoke to on the phone. I guess they remember who I am, after all. “Your pizza is...oh, Jimin’s got it.”

Sure enough, Jimin is opening up a pizza with pineapple, olives, and chicken on it. He raises his eyebrows upon seeing my strange assortment of toppings.

“And this is good?”

I laugh a little at Jimin’s attitude, surprised to see him so at home with me.

Instantly feeling more comfortable around them, I grab one of the plates sitting on the table and make my way over to the pizza. “Of course it’s good. Haven’t you ever tried it before?” Hobi follows suit, looking over the options with a sharp eye.

“Can’t say I have. Mind if I steal a piece?” When I shake my head Jimin reaches over to ease a slice out of the box. “Thanks. Also, congrats on surviving the debut album. Hoseokie hyung said you were crazy busy with it.”

My eyes widen a bit as I look to the man in question. Hoseok gives me a guilty smile before returning his attention to the pizza.

“You talk about me?”

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it, and I once again chalk it up to the lack of sleep, fresh air, nutrients, and peace of mind that I’ve been getting lately. Jungkook immediately starts laughing, nearly choking on his pizza.

Hobi shrugs, giving Jimin a brief look that details his plans for his murder. “I’ve mentioned you a couple of times. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new producer under our roof- much less one that works so hard.”

While the compliment doesn’t fail to make me blush, I also can’t get over the fact that J-hope has told Jimin and Jungkook and probably the rest of the boys about me.

“In his defense,” Yoongi says, striding into the dining room wearing a large hoodie, “we did grill him for questions when he kept skipping out on meals with us.”

“Especially when he was smuggling ramyeon out of the break room,” Jungkook adds.

I’m not sure where to look as Hoseok’s face goes bright red under the chandelier. Either way, I can’t hold in my laughter.

“I was wondering where you got all that ramyeon,” I muse. The other boys chuckle, grabbing the last few things before heading out into the living room. I wait for Hobi who’s currently staring holes into his pizza.

“You coming?”

He jumps a little at the sound of my voice, looking up at me with his mouth in a small frown before smiling. He dips his head to the side in that way he always does.

“Right behind you.”

February 2019

Things slowly begin to change. The debut album is reviewed and accepted, and suddenly I’m no longer eating in my studio with Hobi. Instead, I’m showing up at his apartment after work for dinner.

His schedule has gotten busier since mine has relaxed now that TXT is debuting in less than a month. Unfortunately I can’t just show up on set or in his studio or wherever it is he’s working for the day, so instead I begrudgingly accepted his offer of dining in at his apartment.

He’s never alone, our meals now consist of Jin usually choking on something or Yoongi making sly comments under his breath. Namjoon has only been there once, according to the rest of the boys he’s a workaholic. It doesn’t surprise me at all.

Jimin is a constant at Hobi’s apartment; apparently he’s none too happy about his roommate spending more time at a separate place. Jungkook and Taehyung usually tag along, although Jungkook has a bad habit of wandering about and leaving early.

Dohyeong has come over a couple of times as well, he made sure to make fun of me for no longer stopping in at his studio.

“You’re busy these days,” I say as I try to defend myself. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

Dohyeong shrugs, completely ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. “We’re not too busy. And you could honestly be a big help to us, if you bothered to drop in.”

I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when Hobi speaks up from where he sits beside me. “Actually, you really should. I was talking to Bang PD about it and-”

“You talked to Bang PD about me?” I shriek, dropping my spoon in my soup and turning my full attention to the man beside me. “Are you trying to get me fired or something? Jeez, Hobi, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hobi looks like he’s not certain if he wants to run off screaming or burst into laughter at my sudden outburst. He holds up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Hey, all I did was mention the fact that you’ve been working very hard and that you show a lot of promise. If we could get you on a project of ours, it might really open up a lot of doors for you. You know, more than the occasional song.”

I stare at him, the table completely silent as I study out his face. He’s casually eating his food, keeping one eye on me as though waiting for me to start beating him up. He straightens up and grabs a bit of the meat from his soup, blowing on it before extending it out to me.

Glancing between him and the meat, I sigh before leaving forward and biting it.

Later that night, as we’re watching “Inception” and everyone is lounging about the living room, I look over to Hobi who sits between Jimin and I. The light of the movie dances across his face, leaving me a bit starstruck as I mull over his words.

I’ve worked on a few small parts of songs with the other producers for BTS before, but I’ve never headed a project for them. Granted, I’ve only been at Bighit for a short amount of time. I was thrilled to know that Bang PD wanted me to be one of TXT’s main producers. It’s a big deal, especially for someone as young as I am.

So why is Hobi trying to get me to jump onto some project for BTS?

He must sense my stare, because he’s crinkling his nose before looking over at me a moment later. I stare at him with wide eyes, caught red-handed.

Apparently the dark room doesn’t show him how red I am, because he simply looks at me and raises his eyebrows, silently asking me what I’m thinking.

Scooting in a little closer until my head is resting against the back of the couch near his shoulder, I whisper my worries to him.

“It was nice of you to mention me to Bang PD, but I don’t feel comfortable just jumping in on a project with you guys. That feels...wrong, somehow.”

He nods slowly, bringing his arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze. “Ok...you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I really think you should talk with Pdogg or Dohyeong about it. I just think we could really use your help.”

Once I agree to talk with Pdogg about it, Hobi removes his arm and focuses on the movie again. I close my eyes for a moment, fighting the pounding in my chest as I replay how it felt to be so close to him.

Just jumping in on a project with Hobi doesn’t feel right. I know he’s doing it out of friendship, but I also know myself. The world tends to open doors for people based off of who they know, and I refused to use that to my advantage a long time ago.

Looking around the room at the people I’ve begun to call friends, I wonder if I’ve inadvertently sabotaged myself before I could even begin.

♟

After the movie ends Hobi wastes no time getting up and driving me home like he usually does. It’s quiet inside the car, I lean my head against the window and watch the city lights stream past.

I hear Hobi’s intake of breath before he speaks. “Did you like the movie?”

Glancing over at him, I can’t help but smile. He’s nearly buried in his oversized sweatshirt, his nervous eyes flitting all over the road almost as though waiting for a bear to amble out in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. I’ve seen it before.”

He frowns. “You didn’t tell me that. We could’ve watched a different one, you know.”

I shake my head, eyes drifting down to where his hands clutch the steering wheel. “No, it never gets old.”

He turns onto my street, starting to let off the gas. “If you say so.” Coming to a stop before my apartment building, he turns to face me. “Hey, about earlier...I know it probably seemed really weird for me to just say that out of the blue, but-”

“Lock the doors.”

“What?”

I lean across him to lock all the doors, grabbing his arm out of fear when I see a burly man edging closer to the car. “Hobi…” I whisper, a sudden shot of fear coursing through my veins.

Hoseok catches sight of the man, who has bent over and is trying to see who’s inside the car. We’re both frozen as he comes ever closer, until he suddenly pounces at the passenger side door, making me scream.

“I see you!” He shouts, his hood dropping from his face. “I see you, you little-”

I don’t get to listen to his colorful language before Hobi throws the car into drive and takes off. I’m still clinging to him, staring out the passenger window. Blood is pounding through my veins, making me see stars even as I gasp for air.

“Do you know him?” Hobi asks, keeping his eyes glued to the road. His voice is exceptionally calm, despite the fact that I know he scares easily.

Finally detaching my hands from his arm, I rub my eyes. “I...I don’t know…?” We pass a speed limit sign, and I jump up in my seat. “Hoseok, slow down!”

He doesn't listen to me, and I swear he almost speeds up. I watch people’s faces as we speed by, a few staring after the nice car with a sneer. If it weren’t for the terror in my system I would have been making fun of Hobi. For a man so terrified of driving, he sure does know how to floor it.

Pressing a few buttons on the steering wheel, the sound of a phone ringing fills the car. A glance at the dashboard shows that Hobi’s calling one of their full-time bodyguards.

My jaw appears to be locked as I can’t even bring myself to open my mouth to ask him what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” The bodyguard, Do-yun, immediately asks. It’s rare for him to receive a call this late at night; it can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Do-yun?” Hoseok’s voice is ice-cold as he begins to deliver instructions. “I’m going to send you an address, I need you to stop by my apartment to retrieve a key and then bring some of Sunny’s items over.”

I perk up a little when he calls me Sunny. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him refer to me by my pseudonym. The bright name coming from his lips somehow makes me feel cold.

“Yes, sir. Are you alright?”

I don’t miss Hobi’s gaze as he glances over at me with fire in his eyes. “We’re fine. See you soon.”

When we pull up outside of Hobi’s apartment again, I stare up at his darkened windows with wide eyes. He must sense my confusion, because he waits before getting out of the car. Gingerly unbuckling my seatbelt, his icy exterior melts enough for me to see to Hobi that I’ve grown close to over the past six months.

“Rin-ah,” he starts, and I instantly relax upon hearing my name from him. “Did you recognize that man?”

I immediately begin to shake my head. “I told you, I don’t...I don’t know.”

“Have you seen him before? Even just hanging around your apartment, down in the street or something.”

Looking into Hoseok’s eyes, I can see the unending depths of his patience. But there’s something more there, now. Something I’ve never seen before.

A sharp blade hides behind his eyes, one that I’ve never seen him wield. Watching how his hands curl up into fists against his jeans, I realize that I’m not sure I want to see that weapon at work.

Perhaps I’m at my limit, the memory of that man hurling himself at the car and attempting to claw his way inside too much for me to handle. Whatever it is, something pushes me to do something I immediately wish I didn’t.

Looking straight into Hoseok’s eyes, I lie.

Chapter 2

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zankivich · 4 years ago

Text

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 2

a/n: this one was really fun to write. I’m back in my bag tbh. These are some cute characters if I do say so myself. Like everything I write I feel like this could be a fully blown multi-chapter fic. Also it’s finna get smutty so I hope you’re prepared for that. Let me know what you think? K bye.

WARNINGS: Smut, softness, too much cuteness?

Part 1 Part 3

The call comes two days later. Not that he leaves any room to be forgotten. No, Chris had texted you bright and early the next morning to thank you again for giving him a chance, and to apologize if he’d been in any way aggressive. You were quick to reassure him there’d been no aggressiveness on his end, certainly not any that was unwanted. He was a good texter, happy to provide details about himself, and to notice the details you, yourself, provided.

Chris: What are you up to this morning anyway?

Y/n: I had an early meeting with the company I just signed on with for a project I’m spearheading, and now I’m in my office preparing the debrief on that meeting which will be presented at another meeting.

Chris: Wow. Sounds intense. What do you do for a living?

Y/n: I’m a senior level consultant at a consulting firm. I basically just get hired to tell folks what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it. Then I leave before they fix it.

Chris: Ah so you liked to be in control huh?

Y/n: I...trust my gut, and my gut has yet to lead me astray. I only make decisions I believe in.

Chris: And what is your gut telling you about me y/n?

Y/n: It’s telling me to keep texting you even when I shouldn’t. Even when I’m busy. I like the things you say.

Chris: I like that. My gut is telling me you’re important. I can’t really explain it further than that. I just think we could be really good together.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over the words in the message a few times. It was sweet. Damn him all to hell.

Fast forward to the next day where you’d spent all day outside of the office meeting with clients. He caught you in the middle of your lunch break between bites of sandwich that wasn’t very good. You’d put his name in your phone as just Chris, and yet when his name flashed across the screen the letters may as well have been hieroglyphics. It took you ten seconds just to get your shit together.

“Hello?” You swallowed into the phone, trying to manage an up-beat cadence.

Chris was like honey through the phone, as if the weight of the conversation was nothing to him.

“Hello. God, I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. I thought I was starting to lose it in my memory for a second.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure it’s been exceptionally trying for you.”

“It has, it has. So perhaps you won’t think I’m being too pushy by asking you out tonight?”

You moved the phone just far enough away from your ear to wordlessly praise the lord to the air. Or whoever was up there.

“Um...tonight, huh?”

“Yea do you already have plans?”

“No, no. I just have a pretty long day ahead of me. I might not be able to make an early dinner.”

“Well that’s okay. Dinner isn’t even what I had in mind. What if I picked you up at, say eight-thirty? Would that be enough time?”

You bit your lip. “It would...Can I ask, if we’re not going to dinner, where are we going?”

“Now that....is a surprise. Send me your address, I’ll be there at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Oh lord. Okay I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

It took you a moment to remember to put the phone down. Men were usually very simple. Dinner, usually somewhere they can order a steak. They like to do dinner on the earlier side, give them ample time to order drinks. The more drinks they order the higher they believe their chance of sleeping with you goes up. In all your years of “grown up dating”, you could count on one hand the amount of men who had offered to take you somewhere other than dinner on the first date, and never had that place been alcohol free.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more that understanding men; their preconceived notions, their inadequacies, their mentality etc. was about safety for yourself and for others who may fall victimized. The patriarchy was toxic afterall and perhaps no one knew this better than Black women.

And yet Chris seemed to be evading your expectations, and not for the sake of keeping you on your toes. It was as if his aura existed outside of your expectations all together. He didn’t need to trick you, or convince you. He was just himself, and that self was perhaps better than the vast majority of men you’d met in your life. Could that be? Was it really possible? It seemed like you’d find out regardless.

***

Large hoop earrings are truly a staple piece for any iconic outfit. Without the dread of a formal dinner, you were excited to play with your wardrobe a little bit. There was a beautiful pastel pink camisole that matched a floral set of pumps quite perfectly. The slicked back ponytail and the knitted cardigan are simply added bonuses. Ya girl looked good as per the usual is the moral of the story.

By the time he knocks on your door there’s a giddiness to you. Grownup dating seemed to lack a certain excitement at that point in your life. Oftentimes priorities didn’t match up, men didn’t say what they really wanted, or truly were after. But it really did seem like Chris just wanted to show you a good time. And as much as you were trying to keep the walls up and stay smart, you couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might prove you wrong.

“Hello.” He smiled warmly at the threshold. “You look beautiful.”

Your brain had short-circuited. This was basically nuclear warfare and you were not having it! He was wearing a thin black sweater that stretched tightly across the firmness of his chest. There was a level of scruff that was absolutely tantalizing, and the way his eyes were one step away from twinkling like an anime character was a reality that suffocated you with the weight of it. It was truly too much. This man looked straight out of a factory. The wind had been zapped from your sails. Dammit.

“You look...really good yourself.” You hummed. “Like, unnaturally good actually.”

He only laughed wild and carefree arms coming up into a shrug.

“I gotta keep up with you somehow, right? So you ready to go?”

“Yes actually, let me just shoot a quick text…” You mumbled, swiping your fingers across the screen.

y/n: Okay we’re leaving the house. Remember if I don’t text back for an hour without stating why to track my phone.

Raya: don’t worry girl ain’t nobody gone call the police on captain america. Yo black ass wouldn’t make it a second

Jesse: Me and my cousins will ride up there swinging if need be. You just say the word mija

Tanya: or not word….cause the girl might be dead????

Jesse: Oh...you right

Y/n: okay BYE NOW

Usually the group text for dates was centered on safety and precaution. You had a feeling this one was going to be fully for them to clown your ass for the rest of the night.

Chris gets the door for you, and it’s easy to note immediately that you’re sliding into a tesla. The fact that it looks like a spaceship on the inside is a dead giveaway. But the car is warm and the second he slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame takes up precedence in the vehicle. His non-driving arm lands on the middle console sending parks of heat over to your seat with stark intensity.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going? You know that’s like prime serial killer talk right?” You noted.

He smiled again, this wide grin that seemed to transform his entire face. It seemed infectious just to look at him.

“Gosh you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re heading towards the city and not away from it. It’s a public place, I promise.”

“Okay Chris. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now.” You teased.

He looked over at you instead of the road.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Oh chile….

“Mmm. Noted.”

There had been a certain energy the night you met. It had existed in the non-existent space between your bodies as he held you against his chest. A sort of aura that pulled you, pulled the both of you in. It had felt a little overwhelming then, but to know that it existed now within the small confines of the car was another thing entirely. Your body tilted in the direction of his unconsciously, your elbow propped on the console directly next to his. You were drawn to him. And the good news was he seemed to be too.

You were both confused and happy to see him steer clear of the usual Beverly Hills or Hollywood spots. Where does one such movie star as Chris Evans take a woman on a date anyway? Your girls had discussed everything from WolfGang Puck to the Rosevelt. The sun was sinking low and heavy in the sky as night began its arrival. As he navigated you to the Santa Monica Pier you felt the giddiness from early wreck havoc in your belly. It was so far from anything you could have ever expected in the best way possible. All the nerves of being with this guy you really liked sort of melted away and gave way for excitement.

“The boardwalk huh?” You grinned out the window.

“Yea. There’s great street food, games, views. I figure it’s pretty tough to have a bad time here. Increases my chances of you agreeing to a second date.” He smirked.

You laughed a little louder than your flirting giggle and turned to face him straight on.

“Oh so you already plotting the second date now!”

He laughed right along with you.

“Sweetheart I’m on date number four up here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“Sheesh! Well I don’t want to disappoint, but I played point guard in high school so if we find some hoops I’ma have to put your ass to shame.”

“Oh she’s trash talking me already ladies and gentlemen!”

You were already taking your seatbelt off and reaching for the door handle. It was the most excited you’d ever been on a date, couldn’t even remember the last time someone took you some place to be goofy and play games. You typed your destination into your group chat and told your girls not to bother you. It was finna be a night.

It comes to no surprise that you end up at the arcade. He buys the tokens, you buy the beers. And then...it’s on.

“I want to start by saying that I am firm in my masculinity. Basketball is not my game, and I stand by that.”

You rolled your eyes around your beer and quickly took off your cardigan to free your arms.

“Boy, put the tokens in the machine and quit playing.”

He only grins at you so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Side by side in front of the basketball arcade game, you each take shots at the swinging net. Unfortunately there are no bonus points for fine looking biceps while missing shots. This leaves you to crush your opponent--date, whatever--by over twenty points. Though Chris was “firm in his masculinity” this did not stop him from being competitive, so he quickly threw more tokens into the machine and tugged the sleeves of his too-tight sweater up his arms. He makes a shot while you just stared at him, a little dazed. You only beat him by eight that time. Rude.

“Okay,” Chris panted. “I lied. I do play basketball. I like to think I’m pretty good at it too, but you definitely just kicked my ass.”

“I was MVP all three years I played. It’s not your fault.” You giggled.

“You play in college at all?” He asked as you took your beers and moved on to a new game.

You shook your head. “I went to Howard for both undergrad and my masters. We’re D1 and I wasn’t that good. I got an academic scholarship instead.”

“So brains and a killer arm? Anything else I should know?”

“Hmm...I have an irrational fear of mice? I found a mouse once in my kitchen when I was a little girl. I got so scared that I literally fainted.”

“Brains, killer arm, faints at the side of mice. So, I guess Cinderella for date number two is out.”

You placed your arm on his shoulder as you laughed. The sheer volume of muscle was not lost on you, nor the way your mouth salivated in response. Woops.

“I’d be down to watch Ratatouille. That’s my favorite food movie ever, I think. I guess animated equals not so scary.”

He smiled and let you keep your palm on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary.

“Duly noted. Shall we?”

Chris beats you in skee ball, and you beat him in some random zombie shooter game. Eventually he lets you lean on him to take your shoes off so that the two of you can do a dance revolution game. It’s silly and awful, and you laugh the entire way through it. There’s more arm touching and at some point he finds an excuse to touch your waist again. The way you bite your lip and stare up at him is only interrupted by the squeal of children’s laughter. There’s an increase in your heart beat that can’t be explained by the physical activity of the game alone, and the heat in his eyes is not nearly PG-13 enough.

“Should we uh...go get a snack or something?” You mumbled still peering up at his lips.

His grip on your waist only grows tighter, and you swear it’s past them kids' bedtime.

“Sure, why not?” He grins before slowly letting you go.

Sweet jesus.

It’s only when there’s a foot of space between the two of you that you can breathe normally again. But then he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Breathing is clearly overrated.

You buy two different flavors of icecream to split and find a bench tucked away in the lights of the pier to keep talking.

“So what about you?” You asked between globs of cookie dough.

“What about me?”

“I know what you do for a living obviously but like...Where are you from? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? How do you take your coffee? That kinda shit.”

He beams at you and holds a spoon of his rocky road to your lips. You hold eye contact as your lips wrap around the spoon. His lips part just barely and you know you’re not the only who can’t get a grip tonight. Good.

He clears his throat. “I’m originally from Boston, but I grew up in a town like thirty minutes away called Sudbury. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and an older sister. They’re all much smarter than me I promise. My uh father remarried so I’ve got some half-siblings too. I can break out the family tree sometime if you want. I really enjoy seafood. I think it has something to do with where I grew up. I take my coffee black.”

“Boston, eh? LA must have taken some getting used to.”

He chuckled. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to LA. I have a place in Massachusetts. It keeps my mom happy, and makes it easy to go home. I’m between projects for now, but its easier sometimes to just be here for the talk shows and the meetings and what not. I’ll be honest it’s been looking up lately though.”

Damn him and his ocean eyes and his dumb dumb smile and his stupid facial hair. And...now he’s putting more ice cream in your mouth. Diabolical.

“What about you? From DC to LA?” He asked.

“Ugh it does feel pretty cliche, I know. I never in a million years though I’d live out here. It’s tough cause all my family is east coast as well. When I was fresh out of grad school I got offered a job at a firm out here. The salary and the benefits were some of the best of my class. I couldn’t really say no. And now I mean...you saw me and my girls. I found community out here. It’s scary to think of losing that.”

“Hey that makes sense. You’ve made a life for yourself here. That’s really admirable.”

“Yea I guess. It helps to live away from the worst of it all. And I suppose LA does sometimes come with perks.” You smiled in his direction.

“I could not agree more.”

*Meanwhile in your phone*

Raya: what do we think? Is she still alive?

Tanya: Girl please. The only thing that girl is at risk for is a good dicking.

Raya: sljgdlkfgjkl you goin to hell

Jesse: Should we take our bets now?

Tanya: I’m putting five on the captain throwing her back out TONIGHT

Raya: I’m putting ten on y/n holding out just to be stubborn af

Jesse: I’m with Raya on this one.

You walk through the sand together with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. There’s everything from playful jabs to probing questions to heavy flirting. At some point it transcends the innocence of a first date. Perhaps it's the moment when he offers to carry your heels so you can feel the sand between your toes. Or the moment when you tell him something funny and he laughs into your neck till all you can feel is the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin. Maybe it’s the feel of his fingers untangling your hair from your cardigan when the wind traps it. There’s a softness to him in all his overt physicality. He thumbs at your chin playfully and smiles down at you. It’s not just softness then. It’s tenderness too. And you melt into him.

“Hi.” he whispered till you smiled.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“Can I kiss you by chance?”

Your arms slide closer wrapping firmly around his neck.

“Absolutely.”

If his chest is rock-hard muscle then his lips are the antithesis of that. The kiss is soft and yearning when he wraps them around your own, and his hands ain’t bad either. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in him and he in you until there’s no clear discernment of where one begins and the other ends. But it doesn’t matter when his tongue is just as teasing and probing at his personality, and you fingers scratch roughly through the strands of his hair.

The only thing that could possibly bring such a perfect moment to an end is the need to breathe. You pull away with a stuttering gasp, and he hides his face in your neck with a whine that awakens a whole new fire with you.

“Wow.” He sighed.

“Yea...Wow.”

You blinked a couple of times to try and bring yourself back to reality and out of...whatever the hell that was.

“I should uh--I should get you home right? You had a long day.”

He squeezed at your shoulders before pulling away and you swore it was colder without him near. As the night suddenly hurdled towards a close, you felt a sense of longing. You weren’t quite ready to let him go yet, and the anticipation of being without him was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. The only good news is he holds your hand the entire walk back to the car, and his shoulder makes for lovely resting space.

The car ride feels like a fraction of the time it took to get there. Perhaps it's because you know each other better now, have a taste of what it’s like to be next to one another. Like a junky you were hooked. White, Black, or green, there wasn’t anything that could stop you from wanting to be near him. He was infectious, and he’d gotten himself directly under your skin.

“Could I walk you to the door?” He asks.

“Please.” You nodded.

You take smaller steps as if that will make it all go slower. And a grin forms slowly on your lips when you notice his much lengthier legs attempting to do the same. It’s the kind of PG-13 shit you’d never really experienced before. How pathetic that the second you got just a tiny bit of it you were practically begging for more.

The light beneath your door illuminates the movement of your bodies. You turned with your back to the door to face him, aware for the first time that you’d been smiling for a while, that you had no idea how to stop smiling.

“I gotta say I had a really great time.” You murmured. “Thank you for the effort and the fun and...the kiss.”

“That means the world to me. All I wanted was for you to have a good time. Honestly I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“You know, I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on as well.”

He smiled widely at you. “Good. So now we’ve set the bar so high that it really only makes sense for us to go on another date right?”

“I think I could be up for that, yea.”

“Could you be up for another kiss?” He teased.

“Could you be up for coming inside?” You countered.

His eyes widened at that, the intricate game of you both keep each other on your toes unfolding. You weren’t even sure where the idea had come from. You certainly hadn’t planned it. At some point you realized you had to go inside, and the thought of him being on the other side of the door just didn’t feel right.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose if you’re tired. I know your work day was long.”

You nodded eyes skimming from his ankles to his hair.

“Suddenly? Not so tired.”

“Me neither. Let’s go inside.”

That’s what you thought.

You unlocked the door to your place leading him into the living room.

“Um make yourself comfortable. I just gotta let my girls know I got home alright. Do you want anything to drink?” You asked.

“I better not. Still gotta drive home.”

There was something about his lack of confidence about getting laid that had you pausing in the kitchen. Few men had ever made it past the threshold on the first date. The threshold may as well have been a neon arrow towards your vagina. Not that you’d decided to have sex with him. Of course not...

Y/n: I know y’all are not placing bets that center around my pussy. Get a life.

Raya: Girl I’m married with two kids and you just went out with Chris Evans. Your life is my life. Don’t take that from me.

Tanya: Now sis, why are you texting us when there is some red, white, and blue DICK to be had.

Jesse: djdflkjgdf

Raya: lmao. She got a point. Did he drop you off?

Y/n: He did.

Tanya: Annnnnnnnnnnd?

Y/n: Annnnnnd my date ain’t over. I simply must be going. Night night!

Your phone began to erupt with buzzes in your palm. You quickly set it to silent to ignore the peanut gallery and headed back to your date.

Chris was in your living room staring at a photo you had set up on the wall. It was you, your mother, and your little brother all wrapped up in each other from your graduation the second time. The fact that his ass was poised like a piece of fruit begging to be plucked from the tree is a secondary detail.

“Is this your family?” He grinned. “You look just like your mother.”

You stalked closer, ready to be in his space again, and smiled.

“This was for degree number two. I’m the first to ever get a master’s, and my mom couldn’t stop crying the whole day. This is the only picture I had where she wasn’t obviously in tears.” You hummed.

“That’s beautiful. She’s got so much to be proud of. You’re clearly an amazing woman.”

Most may have tilted their head in shyness, maybe looked at the ground and ignored the compliment. Such a cliche. You had learned long ago that the most radical, most self-loving thing you could do was believe your own hype. Others will rarely do it for you. Chris seemed to be the exception to many rules.

You raised your chin proudly. “Thank you. Every ounce of it, I get from her. I can assure you of that.”

“I believe you. Mothers really are the superheroes of the world, no pun intended.”

You reached for his hand slowly, heart warming at the way he instantly went to intertwine your fingers. He was truly nestling himself inside your head, your walls coming down one by one. Silence pursued as you led him towards the couch, his eyes raking over every inch of you as you moved. As his back hit the couch, you stepped out of your heels. His legs were deeply parted and the thickness of his thighs looked like the perfect seat. It didn’t help the way his hands were gripping his thighs like an invitation. That knot that sometimes appeared in your belly when he was around tightened.

“Can I sit with you?” You hummed.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like.”

His voice had suddenly gone husky and deep, your eyes fluttering wantonly at the sound. You were mostly definitely going to take him up on that.

You placed your foot on the space of the cushion right next to his thigh, and used the leverage to climb yourself into his lap. His hands immediately came to rest on the small of your back pulling you close, close, close.

This kiss is better. Much better.

Whatever gentlemanly urges he’d proudly displayed throughout the night, quickly gave way to a new urge, a hunger that boiled hot for each of you. It was the same feeling you’d felt when he first caught you at the bar, multiplied by a million. His facial hair rubbed tantalizing along your jaw as he kissed and bit and marked you with reckless abandon. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and tugged sharply. The moan he released in response had your hips bucking up against his.

“God, come here.” He muttered against your throat.

His too-large palms went from your back to your ass and suddenly he was tugging you rougher, firmer, right against something firm of his own.

“Oh shit.” you whimpered thighs tightening around his waist. “Touch me.”

His lips began a trail from your neck down your cleavage, beard scratching up the flesh until your back was arching in lust.

“Take this off.” He demanded with a tug to your cardigan.

No problem there.

“You next.” You whined and reached for the bottom of his sweater instead.

Your camisole joined the rest of the pile on the floor and suddenly his tongue was finding the patch of skin right between your breasts. Wet didn’t begin to describe what you were experiencing in that moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous you know that?” He huffed.

Your fingers gripped at his knee for leverage and you leaned back just enough to give your hips room to breathe. And move.

“Fuck.”

You giggled at Chris, your hips sliding against his in the most amazing rhythm.

“I like it when you lose that little nice-guy thing you got going on. What else do you got hidden from me, Chris?”

His hands moved to the thick of your thighs and squeezed hard until you lost your own grip of self-control.

“I think you like to take the reins. I think every part of your life is carefully constructed to your liking. But I’m starting to wonder what it might look like if you lost a little control, y/n. Do you think I could make you do that?”

Your eyes, though hooded with the overwhelming emotions he was making you feel, found a way to burst open at his words. Because in just one single night he saw you. Saw you in a way that you had not willingly given out. There was an armor that you put on to walk out into the world, something intentionally crafted to keep you safe. How had he disabled it in just one night? As sexy as it was, it was also scary. Were you ready to let him take control?

“Look if you wanna make me lose control? You better have something damn good to show for it, sir.” You grinned.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

And just like that you were being lifted into the air like a spaceship taking launch. A man had never lifted you with such ease since you were a child. A grown ass woman of your size wasn’t just thrown around like a rag-doll. Dainty had certainly never been used to describe you. And yet, Chris had managed to stand with your legs and arms wrapped around his like a kola to a tree. His hands on your lower body only throw you further out of whack. This shit was insane. And your pussy was transcending physics with how wet he’d manage to make you.

“Can I take you to bed?” He panted, breath harsh against your lips.

You groaned. “God, yes, boy scout. Please take me to bed.”

Your bed seems perfectly crafted for two, or maybe that’s just the feel of him sucking at the skin of your pulse point. His tongue is suddenly everywhere. On your neck. Below your sternum. At the jut of your hip. He strips you of your jeans and falls victim to the slim space between your thighs. His palms now work on mapping them expansively but not without exploring the thin piece of fabric that separates him from the wetness of your inner folds. All it takes is the tip of his nose to rub against the pubic mound, right above your clit, and you just kind of lose it.

“Holy shit! Please. Just please.” You whined, hips bucking closer to his mouth.

A grin descended upon his face that held all of the cockiness of a man who was sure of himself. It was the first time he’d ever looked like that to you. And lord was it hot.

“Sweetheart listen to me.” He said smoothly. “I’m gonna make you cum now. But you gotta be good for me. Can you do that?”

Your lips parted in shock. What does one say to such a thing?

“Okay.”

He’s not interested in torturing you, at least not this time. As soon as you promise to be good, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and he’s on you. Firm flicks of his tongue and hard sucks of his lips quickly leaves your underwear sodden. It appears he has no interest in taking them off, and you might just care if it weren’t for the way he was rocking your body. Most men couldn’t find a clit if there was a neon sign pointing to it. Chris finds it like it's his damn address. He sucks and licks and drools until your thighs pulse, until your back arches, until your body feels poised like spring begging to break.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders trying desperately to pull him closer. You’re not gonna make it.

“I--I gotta...I gotta cum.” You huffed.

He nods while he’s eating you out and takes your statement as a direction to slip his fingers between the soaked material of your underwear. You’re so wet that there’s barely any hit of tension as his finger slides deep inside of you. You can hear it now right beside the desperate pants of your mouth, the crude slip of his fingers digging into you, searching and pumping. He curls it just right, touches that place, until you can’t breathe, until your bursting for him like an overripe fruit.

Your body throbs and pulses as the orgasm rocks its way through you and he never moves, just licks away your release with the same intensity. When you collapse, he lays his head against your thigh and grins up at you with wet lips and a wet beard and eyes completely void of anything but tenderness.

“Oh fuck off.” You whined pushing your hand tiredly against his face.

He chuckled but absolutely did not fuck off. Instead he took to placing kisses along the skin of your inner thighs as if he was rewinding the coil inside of you so that he could make you come loose all over again.

“You done?” He hummed nosing at your pubic bone. “We can be done, just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

You bit your lip and watched him for a few minutes. His fingers were drawing patterns on your leg, his lips feeling like they shot sparks all across your skin. You wanted him bad. Whoever said consent wasn’t sexy hadn’t had Chris Evans in their bed obviously.

“Come up here.”

His eyes finally left the dream of your thighs and locked with yours. He trailed slowly up your body, thighs and arms bracketing either side of you. Your back arched involuntarily until your chests touched. He kissed you long enough for the taste of yourself to get lost in your own mouth. His facial hair still scratched hotly at your flesh.There wasn’t anything you wanted more than for him to destroy you in that moment. So that’s exactly what you said.

“Chris?” You mumbled against his lips.

He immediately backed away. “Yea?”

You reached over to the drawer of your bedside table and grabbed aimlessly for protection. The condom wrapper fell into his hand and your legs came naturally around his waist.

“I’d like for you to wreck me...please.”

It didn’t sound like a question. It was much more a demand than a plea. But your boy scout aimed to please. And please he did.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly when Nicki Minaj said You’ll never catch me in a light-skin nigga’s bed, it took on a whole new meaning. Surely she meant light skin like Drake, and sis definitely had a point. But... surely Nicki couldn’t hate you for the choices you made that night, and all the ones you’d go on to make for this man in particular. After-all, it was technically your bed.

buy me a ko-fi?

173 notes · View notes

pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Two Points Higher | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 5380

A/N: I started binging Criminal Minds last week and I’m already on season 5... Spencer Reid is precious and my asexual heart needed some platonic fluff so I wrote it myself.

Warnings: fluff, interrogation, mentions of murder

Having Spencer Reid show up at your office was not an unusual occurrence. Having Spencer Reid show up at your office in the middle of the night with another FBI agent on his heels was.

“See I told you they’d be here,” Spencer almost tripped over a box of records by the door with the speed of which he burst in.

“I get it, I’m married to my job,” you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your computer, “what’s up?”

“(y/n), this is Agent Derek Morgan,” he gestured to the man behind him as he spoke. Spencer pulled up his usual chair in front of your desk and started rummaging in his bag.

“If you can find a seat you’re welcome to take it,” you smiled at Morgan, who was watching Spencer intently.

“We need your help,” Spencer pulled out a stack of photos.

“Spence, I have work to do,” you chided, though you pushed aside what you were working on to take the photos from him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please?”

“You’re not really asking,” Agent Morgan finally cracked a smile at your comment, “I don’t see how I can help you though, these are neat crime scene photos but I’m not in the FBI.” As you observed the images Spencer stood up again, haphazardly pulling books off of your shelves and piling them on his now vacant seat.

“You missed it. Look again,” you scanned the images again, scrutinizing every detail. This time you noticed it, pulling each image closer to your face to really take in what you were seeing.

“Those are my labels. Why are my labels on human bodies?” Spencer pulled one last book off the shelf and started thumbing through it.

His voice was soft this time, as his eyes met yours, “we don’t know.”

You didn’t normally see Spencer when he was working a case like this, something about him seemed different.

“How can I help?”

“The rest of the team is on the way. Have you talked to anyone about your collections recently? Told them how you label and research?”

“The only one I’ve talked to about it is you, but it’s not exactly an industry secret. Anyone who has looked at the exhibits has seen my labels, people just don’t usually care about them.”

Spencer and Morgan exchanged a look, then Morgan stepped out to make a phone call while Spencer filled you in on the next course of action. The rest of the team would be using your office as a field station while they tried to figure out why the unsub would make exact copies of your labels.

“Have you known Reid long?” A blonde woman who Spencer introduced as JJ asked.

“Since preschool,” you recalled.

“(y/n) was the only other kid in class who could read,” Spencer commented from the adjoining collections room where he was poking around for signs of entry.

“Spencer was the only other kid in class who could remember dinosaur names, we made quite the pair until he graduated.”

“You only graduated two years after me.”

“Enough to get you ahead by two doctorates and a bachelors,” you shot back.

“What’s in the water over in Vegas?” Morgan commented, shooting Spencer a look when he started rattling off the exact contents of the water and how it definitely did not affect the development of your brains.

It was already the early hours of the morning, so it was decided that any investigating would wait until a more reasonable hour. The team mostly acquainted themselves with your space, finding places to work, sleep, or follow up on leads. Even Spencer was moving around, restlessly conversing with his colleagues. You kept to yourself at your desk, busying yourself with the bone you were looking at. The research was comfortable, though the background noise wasn’t.

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer said quietly to you after a few hours, leaning over your shoulder to observe the notes you were making. It felt oddly normal, considering the circumstances.

“I’m on to something here, I want to finish this first,” you turned to the next page in your notebook.

“I’m going to go nap in the other room then, wake me up if you need anything, ok?” you looked up at him with a soft smile and nodded. He went into the break room across the hall, laying down on the old couch. You watched after him for a minute then turned back to your work. A few minutes later, JJ sat down in front of your desk.

“Do you spend a lot of time together?”

“If he’s not working with you, he’s with me. I’m almost always here which is why he knows where all of the good sleeping spots are,” you smirked.

“What are you working on?”

“We don’t have any records on this bone, so I do the research and get as much information as I can about it. My official title is ‘Collections Curator’ but Spencer says I’m just as much a profiler as he is.”

“Have you ever thought about joining the Bureau?”

“Spence tried to convince me… once,” you chuckled lightly at the memory, “I like my job, it’s a lot lower stakes than what you do. I don’t need a gun, just some research material and my brain.”

“It does seem… still down here,” JJ observed.

“Our collections are stored down here so it’s all climate controlled. These rooms were free so I asked if I could trade my upstairs office for a collections research suite. Did you know that 80% of a museum’s collection isn’t displayed? The exhibits you see upstairs are only 20% of the entire collection,” you stopped talking when you noticed a change in her expression, “sorry, I’m rambling.”

JJ smiled kindly, “I can see why you’re friends with Reid.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without him growing up. It’s easier to be a kid genius when there’s another kid to be a genius with, makes you feel less alone. He’s always been more competitive though, tougher, too.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re also a genius?”

“I try not to flaunt it, unlike Spencer. If it wasn’t for his eidetic memory we’d have the same number of degrees,” you smirked.

“He’s different with you,” Morgan had stepped into the room and was poking through your stuffed shelves.

“Like I said, it’s easier to be a genius when you have someone else who gets it. Spencer and I don’t talk about what you do in the field, but I see what he looks like when he comes back from traveling. I do my best to make this a space where he can be a genius without all the crime and someone that he can just be himself with.”

“Having a support system is good. He needs one.”

“You said he’s different with me, but he’s also different with you. His behavior is consistent with when he was trying to plan a surprise for my birthday last year, except its a stressful secret not an exciting one.”

“I need to hear the birthday story later, when this is all over. You’re good at noticing details,” Morgan commented. You noticed the way both Morgan and JJ shifted nervously.

“I have to be, that’s how I do my research. One detail can open up a whole string of possibilities, but you all know that. At first I thought it just had to do with him being in the middle of a case, I’ve only seen him a handful of times when he’s working.”

“But?” Morgan’s question was leading, they knew you knew they were hiding something.

“This is the first time he’s ever come into my office wearing his gun.”

There was a pause during which you noticed both agents’ eyes soften.

“I’m no FBI agent, but if dead bodies were showing up with museum labels specific to one curator I would start by questioning the curator. None of you have acted like I’m guilty at all. Why?”

“Reid gave us your alibi and confirmed it all in one breath. The local police still want to bring you in, but they’re having trouble finding you. Reid knew where you were and wanted to get ahead of them, solve this before you were falsely accused.”

“They probably ended up at my apartment. I spend most of my time here, but I keep that lease for storage and other things. Not many people know I practically live here. Do either of you want coffee?” you took off the latex gloves you were wearing as you stood up. They shook their heads with a murmured ‘thanks’.

They started whispering behind you as you walked across the hall to the room where your best friend was spread out on the couch. You paused as you passed him, gently brushing a piece of hair from his face before continuing on to the kitchenette. Leaning against the counter, your gaze fell once again on Spencer as you waited for the coffee to brew. He slowly stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before standing up and joining you by the counter.

“You’re still working?”

“Have to make progress on my own projects while we’re waiting, before your case consumes my workday,” you bumped your elbow into him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, someone is using my specimen labels for murder victims. That’s not ok, my labels should be for museum collections only. I appreciate you telling me. I don’t appreciate whatever secret you and your team are keeping from me.”

“It’s characteristic for unsubs like this to have a fantasy… an unhealthy idolization that’s expressed in the victimology,” he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. You thought for a minute as you poured a cup of coffee for yourself and your best friend.

“You think the unsub fantasizes about me.”

“We don’t know for certain. Two of the victims seem random, but three of them have an uncanny resemblance… and the labels…”

“Is that why you came to my office instead of just calling me for more information?” you leaned into his side, gripping your coffee.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he pressed a kiss into your hair and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s not your fault this is happening. You live your life and I live mine,” you took a sip of your drink.

“You only leave this basement to buy groceries and do laundry. Statistically you’re only seen by a small fraction of people in this city and somehow you’ve been targeted by someone who’s now going around killing people.”

“Statistically, the unsub could have seen anyone who lives in this city, including me. It’s not your fault,” you repeated, “you could have told me though, genius.”

Spencer cracked a tired smile, “didn’t want to scare you more than necessary.”

“You’re a better person than me.”

“You’re smarter than me,” he retorted.

“That’s why you’re a better person. That’s how you can do the job that you do. If I had to interact with strangers every day I’d implode.”

“Spontaneous implosion isn’t possible,” you rolled your eyes at his comment. Before you could respond he spoke again, “I love you.”

His words caught you off guard, not because you didn’t return the feeling but because they never needed to be said. You knew from the way his eyes lit up when he read your notes and how he always made you another coffee when he got one for himself. You had spent practically your whole lives together and you genuinely cared about him in a way you knew was reciprocated. You considered this boy family more than most of your blood relatives. Still, with everything going on it had to be said.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

You stood with his arms around you until the coffee in your hands went cold.

“I need to make sure your friend Derek isn’t messing up my office. Sorry I woke you up,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away. When you made it to the hallway you started walking down towards the largest collection room instead of your office.

“Agent Hotchner? Do you have a minute?” You knocked on the doorframe of the large room that the agent had set up in.

“Of course, is everything ok?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Spencer. I know he’s supposed to be protecting me, but he’s also my best friend. He would put himself in danger- he’s expecting to put himself in danger for me. With all due respect, sir, I know you’re trying to do a job but please promise me that you’ll keep Spencer safe too.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” he said as you sat down in front of him.

“I don’t usually get myself into situations this stressful. My brain is rationalizing by flagging you as an authority figure. I know you’re not my boss but it’s easing my anxiety to think of you as one.”

Hotch looked at you calmly, a small smile on his lips, “I should have known Reid’s best friend would also be a genius.”

“My IQ is two points higher than his…sir,” it felt odd, joking with this man during such a stressful time.

“Reid is family to us too. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Spencer said that the unsub had a fantasy about me, and that’s why he was using my labels,” since your conversation with Spencer, your brain had been reeling for information.

“He asked that we didn’t tell you,” you sighed at his words.

“Of course he did. Now that I know, what information do you need? How can I be more helpful?”

“Reid asked you some questions when he got here,” you nodded, “if you’re up for it, I’d like to get the team together and ask you for more details.”

“Anything that helps,” your answer was definite, so Hotch rounded up the team with the exception of Spencer.

“Shouldn’t Reid be here?” Emily asked when you were all crammed into your office.

“I don’t want him… interfering. I don’t like biased research,” you told her.

“Then I guess we’ll get started. How exactly do you create the labels for your specimens?” Derek started the questioning.

“They’re printed on a specific cardstock that I get on special order. They’re all made down here, by me. I’m also the only one who handles the specimens, I don’t even let Spencer touch them.”

“Are there any other employees that work down here? Custodians, other curators?”

“What are you doing?” Your answer was interrupted by Spencer standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee, in your respective favorite mugs.

“We’re doing research,” you spoke before any of your friend’s colleagues could.

“This looks like an interrogation,” Spencer came to stand behind you protectively, setting both cups down in front of you.

“I asked for this meeting, Spence. I want to help.”

“You should have told me,” he leaned closer to your ear, talking quietly so the rest of the team couldn’t hear. You didn’t usually see your friend this upset.

“Nobody comes down here regularly except for Spencer and I. It’s not open to the public, so anyone else needs a personal invite. Usually that’s when we’re changing exhibits, but everyone who helped me most recently has done it before. If it was one of them they would have killed before the first victim, right?” Derek nodded.

“Nobody else has been here in the last two months?” he repeated. You laughed half heartedly,

“I don’t have much of a social life. The only people I talk to are Spencer, the cashier at the grocery store, and Tim if I see him,” you added the last one as an afterthought.

“Tim?” Spencer stopped fuming by your side when your words piqued his interest.

“He teaches a museum history class at the community college in the city. They come by once a semester and tour the museum. You met him, remember?” Spencer averted his eyes from his team.

“I wouldn’t count that as a meeting,” you fought back a smile, recounting the way Spencer ran past the group of college kids as he tried not to let his severe hangover make him late for work.

“Tell me more about Tim, are you close?” Rossi refocused the meeting.

“No, just friendly. We email to schedule the tour, but it’s always professional. I see him at the grocery store most weeks, but it’s usually just an exchange of pleasantries.”

“How do you run into someone at the grocery store most weeks in a city like this?” Emily asked.

“I always go grocery shopping on Friday afternoons, from three to four. Spencer tells me I shouldn’t be so predictable but I work so much I have to schedule it in otherwise I forget. Tim must have the same schedule.”

“Have you seen Tim recently?”

“Now that I think about it, no. The last time I saw him was two weeks after the tour. He asked if I had dinner plans. That was the night we had tacos,” you bumped elbows with Spencer.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I was making dinner for Spencer. You were all coming back from a trip, Spencer always comes over for dinner when you come home. I know I’m predictable but he’s never missed a dinner.”

“What was his reaction like when he heard you were making dinner for Reid?”

“He looked a little upset. I remember noticing it and thinking it was weird, but at the time I rationalized it. I’m not great at interacting with people. You don’t think Tim did this, do you? He’s really nice, always good with the kids. He asks a lot of questions because the kids don’t- oh God,” your eyes widened when you realized what you were saying. The office exploded in activity, with every agent moving to take action. Even Spencer moved, grabbing your arm and pulling you back across the hall into the break room. You noticed the way his hand was nervously on his gun.

“What happens next?”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s him yet. Garcia will cross check him against the profile. If it’s him, we’ll find him and lock him up. If it’s not… then we’re back to square one.”

“You seem more on edge than for it to be that simple,” you observed.

“Up until the most recent tour, Tim was able to admire you from afar. He saw you every week at the grocery store, and twice a year got to come down here to your personal paradise and see what you were doing. That was good enough for him until he saw me leaving here. That was the stressor. He suspected that we were… uh…”

“Dating?”

“Yeah. He tried to confirm it by asking about dinner two weeks later. It was coincidence that I was coming over that night. That was all he needed to kill out of rage.”

“You aren’t still blaming yourself for this, are you? Tim never asked if we were together. He never asked if I was with anyone at all. If he had this could have gone a lot differently. It’s his fault for assuming, not ours.”

Spencer put a hand on your back gently, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be reassuring you.”

As you rolled your eyes and told him it didn’t matter, Morgan stepped into the room.

“We’re heading out to catch this guy. Prentiss and JJ are staying, Garcia is watching the security cameras at all the entrances. Are you staying or going?” Morgan’s question was directed at Spencer. He thought for a minute, you knew he was considering the possibilities. If he stayed he could protect you personally, and he would also be protecting himself. If he went, he could personally take down the person who wanted to harm you and could be a good lure, but there was also a chance he would be targeted.

“I’ll stay. Keep me posted,” Morgan nodded, casting you a glance before running out.

“Now we wait,” Spencer rocked back on his heels, “will you show me that bone you were working on?” You were surprised he wanted to go back to business as usual, but maybe that was just it. You both needed a distraction from all of the chaos happening above ground without you. You went back to your office where Emily and JJ were. Their conversation paused when you stepped in.

“(y/n) and I are going to work on identifying this bone, there’s coffee across the hall if you want it,” Spencer said to the women.

“Thanks for staying,” you added, earning kind sympathetic looks from them as they stepped out.

“So, a long bone?” Spencer took one look at the fragment on your desk.

“Wow, he’s a genius,” you teased, sitting down, “here’s what I’ve got so far-”

You and Spencer spent hours researching. JJ and Emily popped in occasionally, but you were too engrossed in your work to see the amused glances exchanged between them as you bantered with your best friend. Spencer was trying really hard to keep things normal for you and this side of his genius, the way you fed off of each other’s stream of consciousness, was not something his coworkers usually got to witness.

Two hours into your work Spencer’s phone rang, causing you both to startle.

“Hotch,” he was quiet as he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, “yeah, uh, yeah we’ll be right there,” he hung up and turned to you.

“They got him, but there was no real proof. They’re interrogating him now, they want us there to help.”

“Us?” you followed him out of the office as he went to find Emily and JJ.

“He’s not talking, Hotch thinks he might break for me…”

“Or me…” you finished the thought for him. The car ride was tense, and even with Spencer by your side you felt very out of place. Spencer made sure you were next to him even through the whirlwind that happened when you got to the interrogation room. Through the glass you saw Morgan talking to Tim, though Tim wasn’t doing much talking.

“(y/n), would you feel comfortable going in and talking to him? Morgan will be there too, he’ll keep you safe,” Rossi asked.

Before Spencer could protest you nodded and squared your shoulders.

“Of course. What do I need to do?”

“Morgan will do most of the questioning. You just need to get him talking.”

You took a breath and stepped into the room, watching the relief on Tim’s face when you did.

“(y/n), I’m so glad you’re here. This is all just a misunderstanding. I’m not the guy they’re looking for.”

“It’s not up to me to decide that, Tim.”

“You’re here to tell them it wasn’t me, right?”

“They’ve already told us everything we need to know. You’re still talking to me,” Morgan said, pulling Tim’s attention away from you.

“Then why are they here? I see the way you all carry those guns around, it’s too dangerous,” Tim said.

“Too dangerous for who?” Morgan pressed.

“For (y/n).”

“So you care about them, are you close?” you watched Tim’s reaction.

“Very, you can ask me anything about them, I know it all,” he was confident in his answer. Morgan glanced at you and you gave him a small nod.

“What does (y/n) do for work?”

“They’re the Collections Curator at the museum. They spend all of their time there, except on Fridays when they go grocery shopping,” Tim was enthusiastic in his answer, and looked to you for validation. You nodded gently, encouraging him.

“How do you know that?” Morgan leaned forward a bit.

“My class has been touring the collections suite for years. That’s how we met, then I ran into them at the grocery store and we got to talking,” Morgan nodded, pausing for a moment.

“I guess you are close. Since you know so much, this will probably be an easy one. What is (y/n)’s boyfriend’s name?” you tensed, waiting for the answer.

“Spencer. He’s tall, I’ve only seen him once,” he grumbled.

“(y/n), you can tell him,” Morgan said, keeping his eyes on the handcuffed man in front of you.

“Tim, I don’t have a boyfriend,” your words were soft. Tim’s eyes narrowed.

“You do! I saw him, that’s why we can’t be together!” he started to sweat under the harsh light.

“He’s just my friend, Tim. You never asked,” you were trying your hardest to stay composed.

“I did ask! You said you were having dinner together! He was good enough for you to have dinner with, I KILLED FOR YOU. DIDN’T YOU SEE, I LABELED THEM JUST LIKE YOU DO. I DID THAT FOR YOU. HE WOULD NEVER,” Tim’s outburst caused him to stand up and lunge across the table at you. Derek simultaneously pushed you back and pushed him down, you weren’t really sure how. Tim was still thrashing around and yelling all sorts of things you were sure were going to incarcerate him, but above the noise Morgan was able to speak.

“That’s all we need. Thank you, (y/n).”

When you stepped out of the interrogation room you moved immediately into Spencer’s arms, like gravity was pulling you into the one person you felt safest with.

“You’re ok. It’s ok. We��re ok,” he kept repeating.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into the material of his sweater. His words stopped so he could listen, “he seemed so normal.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do they always seem normal?” Spencer sighed, you felt his chest move with the breath.

“No, not always.” You felt his muscles tense as he held you tighter. He went back to repeating his mantra of reassurance as you caught sight of two police officers escorting Tim out of the interrogation room.

“Reid, Hotch wants to see you,” Emily approached the two of you once the room had cleared.

“Go, I’m alright,” you told him, stepping out of his embrace. He kissed the top of your head before leaving you alone with Emily.

“You did a great job in there,” she said as you walked back to the bullpen.

“It didn’t feel like it,” you told her honestly, “I’ve known Tim for years, he was always so nice to me. He never seemed…capable… but the way he yelled…”

“I know. It’s over now, though. Is there anything we can get for you? Coffee?” you sat down at Spencer’s desk, feeling exhaustion wash over you.

“No, thanks. I think I’m just going to go back to the museum. I have some work there that needs some attention. Do you think Spencer could drive me? I’m not awake enough to take public transportation.”

“I’m driving, but we’re not going to the museum,” Spencer loped over from Hotch’s office, grabbing his jacket and bag from the back of his chair.

“What? Why not?”

“You’re coming back to my apartment. Hotch’s orders, you’re not allowed to argue.”

As much as you wanted to, you decided not to put up a fight and instead got into the Bureau vehicle with your best friend. It was quiet as he drove, you wanted to say something but you didn’t know what the right words would be to describe how thankful you were to have him in your life. The silence continued until you were inside, when Spencer offered you something to eat.

“Are you sure?” he asked from the kitchen when you declined. You were by his bookshelves, running your finger down the spines of the many books he owned. Even though most of the time you spent with Spencer was in the museum, you had been to his apartment before on multiple occasions. You had never been there long enough to read his large collection of books, though you wished you had the time because you always trusted Spencer’s book recommendations.

“I’m sure. Thanks, though,” you paused to pull a Chaucer book off the shelf, “why did Hotch want me to come home with you?”

“He wanted you somewhere safe and comfortable, where you can process what happened without being completely alone. I know you wanted to go back to the museum but I also know what you’re like when you’re working and going back to work isn’t going to help you process what just happened. I thought coming here would give you a chance to eat and sleep,” he took the book out of your hands and put it back in its place.

“Is it that obvious?” you were having a hard time keeping your eyelids open. Spencer laughed lightly.

“It is, you should get some rest. I’ll be right out here, I have to finish this report,” he gestured to the folder he had brought home. You nodded, padding over to the bedroom. As soon as you crossed the threshold you could feel your distance from Spencer, who was leaning against the counter scratching away at the file with a pen.

“Spencer?” he turned to you quickly, his eyebrows mashing together in concern.

“Is that report kitchen specific, or could you do it in here?” his face softened. He left the file abandoned where it was on the counter as he rushed over to you. He helped you into bed, before sitting at the opposite end and settling by your feet.

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe now,” he put a hand on your leg. The pressure was reassuring, to say the least, and you found yourself easily slipping into sleep underneath Spencer’s quilt.

When you woke, Spencer was still at the end of the bed with a book in his hands. His feet, clad in mismatched socks, were crossed by your shoulder. You gently prodded at his foot, causing him to twitch and look up from what he was reading.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, putting the book down beside him. You sat up and stretched out your arms.

“You’re still here,” you smirked.

“It’s my apartment,” his quip was light and gentle.

“You’re right, I should get back to the museum,” you started to get up, but Spencer put a hand on your foot.

“Stay here for a while. You work too much, some time off would be good for you.”

“You work just as much as I do, genius. I’m not going to loiter in your apartment while you’re off fighting crime.”

“Hotch is letting me stay home for a few days. If an urgent case comes up I’ll help remotely, but I’m not leaving you.”

“Spence, you don’t have to-“

“I want to, (y/n). You’re my best friend who just went through a traumatic experience. Your family is 2,431 miles away, but even if they were closer you wouldn’t spend time with them. You said it yourself, I’m the only one you talk to regularly. I’m not going to abandon you now.”

“Haven’t we talked about you profiling me?” Spencer blushed.

“That wasn’t a profile, just information.”

“Sure,” you yawned.

“Go back to sleep, you still have some catching up to do.”

“You’re keeping track?” you asked, though you laid back down to get more comfortable.

“It’s simple subtraction, (y/n). I don’t need a PhD in mathematics to know you have slept far less than is healthy for the last three days,” he picked up the book again, finding the place where he left off.

“What are you reading?” his eyes flickered up to meet yours again.

“Dickens, Great Expectations.”

“You’ve read that one before,” you commented, surprised he didn’t have more to say on the subject.

“I have. I thought you might like it, I was just passing the time while you were sleeping. I can read it to you, if you want. It always made me feel better when my mom read to me.”

“I’d really like that,” you settled deeper into the pillow, listening to your friend’s voice as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time since Spencer had burst into your office, you finally felt content.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #platonic imagine #platonic fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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can-youimagine · 4 years ago

Note

not really “hamilton”,,,, but anywho, hi could you write a daveed fic where the reader is rafael’s older sister (like by a couple years) and she meets daveed through rafa, but rafa is all whiny over his sister getting w daveed.. but he eventually gives in because he’s happy that she’s happy and he gets to mess w daveed about “goin soft” and stuff?? thank u i love ur writing❤️

Sorry, this took so long! I had a blast writing this! Also, I’m not really sure if this is what you wanted. I am happy to rewrite it if you want!

“You know how you’re my incredibly successful sister, and I love you so much,” your brother says through the phone before you even have the time to say hello.

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just-”

“Nope,” you balance the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you unlock your car, “What do you want?”

“Look, my friend and I are in New York for a thing he’s working on. Can we just stay with you for a few days until one of us can rent a place?”

“Fine, whatever. When will you be here?”

“We’re outside your door. Thanks! I owe you!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll add this to the list. I’ll be home in twenty.” You hang up the phone before he has a chance to ask for anything else. Of course, he moved to New York on a whim.

When you get to your apartment, you see two men sitting outside the building, waiting for someone, you, to let them in. When Rafael sees you, he jumps up. “(Y/N)! Thank you so much! It’ll only be a few days, I promise. A week, at most.”

You nod your head. “Take all the time you need.” You turn your attention to his friend. “Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m sure if you can put up with Rafa, you can put up with me for a few days.”

He chuckles. “Daveed. Thank you so much. All of this is new last minute.”

As you make your way up to your apartment, Daveed explains his project, but you can’t bring yourself to listen. The way he talks about something he’s interested in is infectious, the way his eyes light up and how his lips curl into a soft smile.

“I’m sure (Y/N)’ll love it. She’s a huge nerd. Still working for the Frick?” Rafael asks, pulling you out of your Daveed-induced trance.

“No. I’m with the Natural History museum now. Although, if you bothered to look at the papers before you sat on them, you would have known that,” you respond, snatching the papers from the chair. Daveed laughs at the interaction before gathering papers from the couch. “I’ve got a couch in here and in my office that you can fight over. Bathroom’s in that door. That’s my room,” you explain, pointing into each of the rooms. “I was planning on leftovers for dinner, but I’m afraid I don’t have that much. There are some takeout menus around here somewhere, if you guys want to order something.”

“You’re paying?”

You raise an eyebrow at your brother. “You’re sleeping on the street?”

He smirks.

“Just pick something, will you.”

He quickly decides on something, not wanting to push his luck any further. While you wait for the food, you get to know Daveed a bit more. You both share the couch, Rafael having been banished to the floor when he made a comment about you being “as old as the artifacts you work with”.

Eventually, between the food and spending time with Daveed, you lose track of time. When you finally look at the clock, you jump off the couch. “Shit, I’ve got to go to work in, well, a few hours now.” You give each of them a hug. “I’m going to attempt to look presentable. You two should get some rest. Try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

“I would never,” Daveed exclaims in mock offense.

You laugh. “Your job is to keep him in check.”

You don’t bother to catch any sleep. Instead, you hop into the shower. Even though you aren’t near him anymore, you can’t stop thinking about Daveed. You had heard about him well before meeting him, but you didn’t pay much mind to it. You assumed that he was going to be just as annoying as your brother, but as soon as you met him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

As you step out of the shower, you hear a loud crash and a string of curses. “Do I want to know?” you ask, getting dressed.

“No!” they answer in unison.

You laugh. “Better be fixed when I come out.”

Luckily, by the time you are ready to leave, they seemed to have fixed whatever it is that they broke. “I’m gonna head out. See you later.” You move to hug both of them, but Rafael stops you. “Nuh-uh. We’ve exceeded our hug quota for the year.”

“Guess I’ll just have to get his hug,” Daveed says before wrapping his arms around you. You melt into his touch, forgetting about everything.

Until your brother clears his throat. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

You push yourself away, leave it to him to ruin your moment. “Yeah. I’ll be back around six. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, will do,” Daveed says, awkwardly stepping away from you. “See you later.”

You nod, grabbing your purse and heading out the door. Before it closes, you can just make out your brother hiss, “What the hell was that?”

You stay in the hall, listening to them.

“What was what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t.”

“So, you have absolutely no interest in my sister?”

“I, well, I,” he stutters, trying to come up with an answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

You hear them move around, so you can’t hear what they are saying anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for better or worse.

You don’t get any work done. You spend the entire day thinking about what you heard. Surely, you were just imagining things. There’s no way that he could have any interest in you. He was going to Broadway, and you were working in the back halls of a museum. “He’ll be gone in a week, and then you can stop thinking about him,” you mutter to yourself.

“You’re back early,” Rafael says as you walk into your apartment.

“I don’t think I have to explain myself to you.” You set your purse on the table. “I went ahead and picked up dinner.” You busy yourself by putting the bag in the fridge. “Johnson was having a sale, so I figured that I could go ahead and pick something up. How’d the search go?”

“Horrible! Does anyone in this city ever leave?”

You laugh. “I think Macy down the hall is close to leaving and going back to Nebraska. You could check it out.”

“You really want to be living with me again?”

“I really just want you out of my place as quickly as possible.”

Suddenly, Rafa gets a devious smirk on his face. “You know what, you’re right. I’ll go down and check.” He quickly gets up and rushes out of your apartment, leaving you standing in the kitchen rather bewildered.

Not long after he leaves, Daveed comes out of your office. “Where did he take off to?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea.” You are suddenly aware of how small your apartment is, how close Daveed is. “I-uh-I got dinner. It’s in the fridge whenever you want it.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” you respond, “yeah.”

He smiles, taking a step closer to you. “You’re a lot like your brother, y’ know.”

You place your hand over your heart. “Why, I am offended! I-”

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

He places his hand on the wall behind you, effectively trapping you. “You’re not?”

“N-nope,” you choke out.

“So, you wouldn’t be nervous at all, if I kissed you right now.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat. You have to be dreaming, right? He seriously can’t be asking to kiss you right now. “No.”

“Good,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you. You are no longer dreaming. Every part of your body that he touches feels like it’s on fire. As he pulls away, you collapse into him. “Still nervous?”

You shake your head. “Never was.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

By the time Rafa returns from wherever he ran off to, you and Daveed and curled up on the couch, talking over whatever mindless show you had put on. “Really, on my couch?”

“You always know how to ruin a moment,” you say, tossing a pillow in his direction.

In a true younger brother fashion, Rafael settles between the two of you on the couch. “So, what are we watching?”

You and Daveed share a look before getting off the couch. “You are watching Superstore.” You pull Daveed into your room with much protest from your brother. When you hear the TV shut off and your brother start pacing, you sigh. “I should go talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Daveed answers, making now attempt to let you up.

“Alright.” You push him off of you. “I’ll be back.” When you walk out of your room, you see Rafa pacing the room.

“Done so soon?”

“What has gotten into you?”

He stands, looking out the window with his back facing you. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah, brooding and grumbling is definitely fine.” You stand next to him. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you dating him.”

“So, you left to check on an apartment that isn’t on the market yet?”

“I just... I thought that this would make both of you happy. I-and you can’t repeat this to anyone-love both of you, and I want you both to be happy, but when I saw you together... I guess I just got worried that you would leave me behind. Like when you-”

“Moved to New York?”

He looks down. “Yeah.”

“I did move here to get away from you,” you admit. “We both tell stories, and you do it much better than me.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. “Look, this is the one compliment that I’m going to give you, so take it. I know that you wouldn’t write like you do if I were still home. You don’t want to make me look bad.”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone.”

You shake your head. “And, I was right. Look, I’d never leave you behind to hurt you, just to help you.”

“How do you know if something’s going to hurt me?”

“The same way I knew that playing with the Christmas ornaments was a bad idea. It’s hurt me before.”

“You’re sure that being with Diggs is a good idea?”

“You seem to trust him.”

“He’s a good guy. Though, I never thought that I would ever get to see him this soft. He spent the entire day talking about you.’

You smile. “We good?”

He pulls you into a hug. “We good.”

“What happened to the hug quota?” you tease.

“I didn’t see you last year. You owe me this one.”

“I heard there was hugging going on out here,” a familiar voice interjects.

You both open your arms to him. “Get in here, D!”

“I also thought I heard you say that you love me.”

“I was in an emotional place, don’t judge me.”

“I hope you’re not as hardheaded as him,” Daveed says to you.

“It’s in our blood,” you and your brother answer in unison.

#daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs imagine #rafael casal x reader #rafael casal imagine #hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader

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