Eᴠᴇɴ A Wᴏʀᴍ Wɪʟʟ Tᴜʀɴ || DBD GʜᴏsᴛFᴀᴄᴇ x GN!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tʜʀᴇᴇ

...Baby One More... - Britney...
0:01 ❍─────── 3:31
⊲⊲ Ⅱ ⊳⊳

next time.

the thought buzzed in danny's— jed olsen's head as he made his way to the gazette, a copy of a resume in hand.

the office was large and open, dozens of waist-high cubicles and larger work tables scattered across the floor. it buzzed with activity, humming with more ferocity than a disturbed hornets nest.

jed olsen strode to the front desk, where you should've been. he offered a smile to the man seated at the desk, likely another intern, and said in the smoothest voice he could muster "i'm looking for mr jim garcia, doll. can you you point me in his direction?"

the intern stuttered and flushed, gaping at jed for a good few seconds before someone interrupted. "i felt a disturbance in the force— who said my name?" jed looked up to see the real life version of jim garcia. he'd only seen a few black-and-white prints in the back of newspapers, but they didn't seem to do him justice.

jed offered a hand to shake mr garcia's and the newspaper owner accepted it with a fervent shake. the man glanced down at the page in jed's freehand. "oh! you must be here for the job opening!"

"oh, now i'm sure you're plenty busy right now—"

"nonsense!"

☏

rain. it pattered like a drum, like your heartbeat running on three cups of coffee and no food. the rain glistened like shattered glass, like—
there it was.

the police had told you to get a therapist.
you refused. you weren't sure why.

you stepped under the awning for the gazette, shaking out your umbrella.

the inside was bustling with activity, and you stepped into the fold, thankful no one gave you a second glance.

a voice boomed. "my favorite
person!" you scrunched your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to look at jim until he stood in front of you.
"can you make me some more coffee?"
you cracked your eyes open, peeking at him through your hand.

"how many have you hand already?"

"only two," he responded proudly.

letting out a playful, long-suffering sigh, you nodded. a man stood besides jim, watching the encounter intently. tall, lean, reminding you of some sort of big cat— something in a familiar, sweet form, but the gleaming muscle beneath their pelt gave them away. you couldn't tell what gave this man away, but it intrigued you.

you'd always had questionable taste.
he locked eyes with you, and they were light, intense. you dropped his gaze first.

"ah, yes— i nearly forgot— this is our new hire, jed olsen." jim clapped the man on the shoulder.

you offered your name and your hand, giving him a slight smile. he repeated your name, as if rolling it on his tongue. he purred your name back at you before accepting your offered hand.
"pleasure to finally meet you, doll. you can call me jed."

his touch was electric. maybe your taste was more than questionable.

he held on for a moment longer than what was polite. you excused yourself to brew another pot of coffee— and mull over your feelings.

you made it into the breakroom, ignoring the way you could feel his searing gaze the whole way, sending red-hot splinters down your nervous system. you slumped against the door as it closed, leaning your head back and whispering "what the fuck?"

"the new hire?" it was one of the other interns, one you recognized from a few of your college classes— aliyah.

"yeah," you replied. "he's..."

"hot," she finished, nodding so fervently part of her veil came untucked. you buried your head into your hands, giggling, and aliyah joined in.

someone else started to push on the door and you sprang away. another intern entered. he glanced at you and aliyah before zeroing in on the coffee.
after a mad dash and downing still-steaming coffee, he turned around to face the two of you.

"we're all in agreement that jed is hot, right?"
he grinned at the pair of you when you nodded.
"well, we're all in luck. there's gonna be a work mixer in less than a week."

the door opened again. a junior editor stepped in, face almost violently red.
the intern by the coffee machine spoke first—
"hi. this is the 'ogling jed olsen' club. how can we help you?"

the junior editor sighed. "i'll schedule us some group therapy."

AN: the 'ogling jed olsen' club is the in-story depiction of the comments section. bc y'all are batshit insane and hilarious.