#it’s day 3 of a four day weekend and I’ve been fucking SICK

[touchmycoat]

Assembled a lil terrarium 🥺 we’ve got waffle plants, fittonia, and bacopas among the moss

#terrarium #plants #I feel blessed #it’s day 3 of a four day weekend and I’ve been fucking SICK #so today was really good: bought the plants and assembled my child #plants were 100NTD #container was also 100 #crocheted the top cover & bottom mat out of scrap yarn & twine #personal #aaahhh nature is healing #I’ve been fucking miserable lmfao #but nah 💞

[brockachu]

the sedins and luongo are being inducted into the hhof on their first year of eligibility. first ballot. i’m in tears i’m not kidding. i’ve been down fucking Bad with covid for the past 4 days and today on the first day i can fucking breathe and stay conscious for more than 4 hours at a time the sedins and lu are going into the hhof i’m laughing and crying in my lil armchair i’m So Happy

#i just. i’m alive and i’ve been writing and i’ve been thinking about these fucking dudes for weeks #i’m just like really fucking happy to be alive and enjoying it like idk how to say this without sounding fucking ridiculous #i have a fucking chronic cough i was so worried this would make it flare up or actually make it worse #i’ve been sick in bed filled with dread and catastrophizing for four fucking days #my dog has been crying outside my door for three days bc i can’t let him sleep in here in case he carries it to my housemates #i couldn’t listen to music for the past 3 days bc the migraines got so bad and i basically live with music on usually #at its worst with my cough i literally can’t laugh without hyperventilating. it’s so depressing. #i just like 2 months ago finally shook of a really bad depressive episode paired with the Worst seasonal depression in years #i have survived this past 9mos by transmuting my feelings through hockey #the sedins & lu in hhof is so gratifying. so important. one day maybe i’ll have the words for it in poem #god do i need to write a sedins poem & a lu poem. they’re just. so important. so good. #did y’all know lu was the only nhler to speak in support of the marjorie stoneman douglas kids? yeah #i just told someone on twitter about the sedins & bc children’s hospital #i’m fucking happily sobbing listening to muna & bad bunny & rina sawayama #i am So Grateful to be alive and mostly healthy and for my brain to not be fighting me as much and god yeah #i’m not even mad i missed pride this weekend! 😂 the sun is shining and so is motherfucking aily #aily talks #canucks lb

[its-time-to-write]

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps. 

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine. 

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice. 

The hormones don’t help either. 

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out. 

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off. 

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain. 

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie. 

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago. 

Shit. 

You call him back and he answers on the first ring. 

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff. 

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate. 

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags. 

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross. 

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun. 

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross. 

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does. 

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are. 

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. 

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out. 

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep. 

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[quinloki]

Omg noooo you’re sick boo

I’m sorry all the Marco right away was too much for your system (jk)

Pls take it easy!!! Ugh sick on a weekend what a waste. I’ve been bleh so I have no good thoughts to send you I’m so sorry!!!!

Omg also I never saw that you had a list of nicknames

QT imma die that’s so fitting for you

I hope I’ve never called you something you don’t like pls be sure to let me know 🫡🫡

And my autocorrect always tries to correct it to double n and I’m like no!! I typed the right thing!!

Ok off topic but hope you feel better soon!! Gotta take extra care this time of year when the seasons are changing!! I’m glad your spouse is there to take care of you!!

XD

Everyone's autocorrect makes it's Quinn, so I tend to let that one slide, but it is really, honestly, truly Quin.

like all good swears, mine is also four letters. ^_^

And I'm not so sick I can't sit up, so I am poking at words a little, and playing some SDV. Doing my best to take it easy, but I'll probably be in bed a good 2-3 hours earlier than last night at the least.

The real kick is going to be if I get worse tomorrow or not. I hope it's just a quick shift in the weather that kicked my ass, and not a case of bronchitis. I get that usually yearly.

one year it was severe. May that never happen again. I didn't sleep for three days and was ready to go to hospital (probably should've gone after the first sleepless night honestly, but fuck hospital bills man).

I hope you're doing good my friend ^_^

#quin answers #kazieai

[thenightlymirror]

Where to begin?

I’m totally fucked.

Of the 14 big monuments we had sitting in the back, some since 2021, we got three done by a local contractor I emailed personally. Then I went into Beast Mode and tried to get the grounds crew to get ready for 5 monuments when the granite company came next. Then, end of day before the delivery, I see that the foundation for the guy who’s been coming in every week, who’s father died two years ago, comes in saying “Listen I don’t want to cause a problem. I would take him to another cemetery if I could, but I can’t. Just please install his tombstone that’s already here.” I have personally issued the paperwork three times, with many pleas. And it’s not done.

I’m furious. I come in the next day, bring it to the GM, the superintendent, who has one of his main guys suspended for the week. My boss stops by and says “Oh, one of the grounds guys walked off today.” Later, in my office, she’s like, “It’s such a shame Bryan isn’t here this week, when we need him the most.” Like she didn’t piss him off and nearly get him to quit and then had to suspend him. Psycho shit. I’m running around like crazy, I find two markers that were never actually ordered because the rubbings were never submitted. I’m in the dirt, in a caved in grave, trying to do a rubbing on a caved in headstone in a caved in grave, of a young daughter’s little bunny rabbits to match for her sister’s tombstone. I get called back because they need the golf cart to cheer up some friends of a cop that got killed. I understand, but I’m just beat red, soaked in sweat, so pissed.

By the end of the day, the foundation is in. I ask the GM about the giant bench that needs to be installed. I haven’t checked that the foundation was installed with my own eyes, because I told the GM that it wasn’t done last week, and then she personally insisted they finished it after. I ask her again if it is done. I realize I don’t believe a word she says. I check. It’s not in. What the holy fuck. I cannot trust a single fucking person at this place.

The delivery never comes.

The next day I come down with some stomach illness and feel like I’ve been hit with a truck. They let me go, my trainer stays. She proceeded to have a horrible fucking day. We have a huge stack of shit to do that has been delayed because we are trying to get all these monuments and other random headstones and bronzes that have been piling behind the garage out. She gets nothing done because she keeps having new pissed off customers yelling at her at the front desk. The delivery truck arrives, insisted the foundation for that bench is there because the GM STILL INSISTS that is that case, treats her like an idiot.

The vendor got 7 monuments in. Not 5, not 4. Seven.

The trainer texts me crying on the way home. I left work at 11am. Hit the bed and slept until 4pm. She texts. I fall back asleep until 1am. I watch 30 minutes of Best in Show, sleep until 6:30.

Back behind the garage, there’s more progress than ever. You can almost see the ground. By deus ex machina, we are doing better than we ever imagined we’d be. I work slowly through the day taking stock. Drive by and sit with the coyote for a while. (I told Buck the coyote was named Junebug, after a friend of mine). I leave at 3:00 because I’m still tired. Wake up at 4am totally refreshed, finally realizing how sick I must have been.

Work through Memorial Day weekend. Only four days off this month.

Today, my trainer is finally back. It’s nice to see her. We plan to see a family in the afternoon who has the stone monument in stock, is still trying to make changes to the design, and also wanted it completed in 3 week. No. They try to cancel but realize they have no where to go, so we’re going to help them design it.

We go out to lunch. I bring my tarot cards. Her reading says that she has a precocious student who is going to inspire her toward a happily ever after. Whatever that means. Mine says that I am dreaming of escaping, either like a thief in the night, or sad, exhausted, and defeated, but in the end I stay, just barely ahead of the pack. She gets a phone call.

She’s gone for a long time on this call. I do another reading for myself, which this time is a lot more optimistic. The King of Pentacles.

She comes back to the table, her face is bright red, covered in tears. “Are you ready to go?”

“Are you okay?”

She can’t tell me what’s wrong. I ask “Did you get promoted?” She laughs. No. She says, “You can’t tell Carlene.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. It occurs to me that maybe they’re moving Carlene somewhere else to attack her boss. No. I tell her, “You know, this job. If you’re this miserable, maybe you should do something else. These days, they all add up.” They’re pulling my trainer out at the end of the week to work on something else. I’ll never be trained. Not really. We just sort of solved their emergency, and now I’m going to be one more memorialist at this location who has no idea what they’re doing.

She feels bad because I’m totally fucked. Her whole job is to coordinate and make us the best there is, and the company just doesn’t give a fuck. They just want to save money. I’m just trying to be like “No, it’s ok. You’ll be gone for a while. I’ll still call. I have Sandra. I’ll be fine.”

I give her 15 minutes in the car to just cry.

I’m getting the room ready to meet this family. She comes in. She says she can’t look at my face without crying. She leaves. The mother comes in, I’m alone, but I talk to her for a while and try to guide her through some process that I barely understand myself. The husband comes in. When the trainer comes in, it’s so obvious she’s fucking devastated. There’s two parents of a dead boy here, and she’s so fucked up.

I take the family outside to look at other monuments and explain the different engraving techniques to them. She gets a call, disappears for a long time. I come back in with the family once we decide on a few things and send her a text that we’re back in the arrangement room.

It goes well. We come up with a proof. I hand her a pillow from the couch and tell her to take off her glasses. I hit her a few times and she hits me back. Back in my office, I ask her if she needs a hug. She says no. She says she just needs to not be a baby. I have five files slapped on my desk at the end of the day for burials that need to be finalized. She’s trying to act happy when she goes, even though she’s still a wreck, which is all the more heartbreaking.

At one point, I am trying to pull up my bank account on my computer to see if I have enough money to walk out on my job, but I pause, and slow down, and get back to work.

[feathery-dreamer]

so anyway I started stressing

Tomorrow the four of us will be going on a one-week trip through Germany. But, I’m considering telling the others I won’t be coming along, to preserve my health.

Since this wednesday’s day trip, I’ve been thinking - four of these seven days will be spent on the road. There’s gonna be a half-dozen hours of driving, until we end up with massive headaches (and likely sick to the stomach). But also they all snore and I have light sleep, so I’m not gonna be able to rest in a hotel room at all.

Not to mention the prospective of spending all my free time with my sister, whose meaningless rambles I can’t tolerate anymore. Plus she has the worst, wall-rattling snore of everyone, and I’m always paired up with her in hotel rooms. Spending all of my free time and “resting” hours with her, is gonna destroy my emotional and physical wellbeing.

I know, I should’ve never agreed to come along in the first place, instead of changing my mind the day before. But I keep forgetting how much “vacations” like this affect my health, accept the offer every time and then end up a fucking mess. I only accepted because I thought it’d be good exercise and improve my depression. I don’t think sitting through a car ride all day, and then be kept all night, will be good for that.

They’re not even new or significant places, it’s just my father’s compulsion to fill any 3+ day period with “stuff”. Just like the time we went camping over the extended weekend of French independence day, though that was new at least. We lost sleep because the dipshit next to us set off fireworks (on dry grass, near cars with fuel tanks) and then froze by morning in our sleeping bags. I did get to fly my kite, and bonded with a group of old men playing pétanque who saw it - my parents didn’t even think to look.

This is why the most fun I’ve had was always with my local group, separately from any family. A murder mystery game across an island two weeks ago, tree-surfing the week before, a theater play (La Tendresse) in may... Those were good, I exercised my body and mind a lot, got plenty of fresh air and distraction from boring routine.

#my life #stress #anxiety #sleep deprivation #insanity #depression

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

@sumebreaks @rainbowpowaa @momsteeeve @timelesstay @carostar2020 @rose-moon-mist @alwaysbeanunknownfan @liatlyn @weirdowithnobeardo @supercalifragilisticprincess @blushingpogue @heartofeden @airwaveee @subaehun @gonnashinelikestars @soundbreaker-harms @gothicwidowsworld @leilanixx @gold-star-for-me @number-0-iz @goinggoinggonzo @iiwontgiveuponmilkk @a-tel-o-pho-bia @tearvnclw @reecebib @chouetteschaussettes​ @lilypander​ @gatheringstormclouds @pig32​ @oliviazinnegan​ @tattooedmuses​ @someone-you-dontknow​ @gemmamitch​ @chims-kookies​ @jasmine2042003​ @sxperncturalimpala67​ @ausblack​ @gingerspicetalks​ @epistrofh-twn-ypogeiwn-poihtwn​ @lizziel1410​ @stephyra17 @hannah-olivia​ @ausblack​ @kylobien​ @vampirestookmydoubts​ @that-one-shitty-blog​

#benny watts x reader #benny watts imagines #benny watts imagines #benny watts x femreader #benny watts #the queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit #Thomas Brodie Sangster #Thomas Brodie Sangster imagines #newt #Beth Harmon #Anya Taylor joy

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

SWAT Guy (Part 3)

(Gif @a-profoundbond​)

Summary: Dean gets pulled out into a call and needs Sam for backup when some of his usual guys are out. But something isn’t right about the whole situation and is about to cause a world of trouble for everyone involved...

Masterlist

Pairing: SWAT officer!Dean x reader

Square: Dean Smith

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping, minor violence

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Sam is the reader’s brother. This was written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!…

_______

“Hi Sammy,” you said. He popped his head up from his desk and smiled. “I’m fine. Dean’s truck is in the shop so I’m picking him up today is all.”

“Lucky you. You get to deal with that hot mess on the way home,” said Sam, waiving his hand across the way. You turned and saw Dean in a suit, reading over a file at his desk. 

“Uh, what is he wearing?”

“He was deposed today,” said Sam. You turned back and cocked your head. “It’s like giving a witness statement kinda. We don’t always have time to go to the court house and not every case requires it.”

“He didn’t mention it.”

“I think he forgot. That’s my suit he’s wearing,” said Sam. You looked him over and noticed he was in his workout clothes, a smile crossing your face. “Shut it.”

“You guys are becoming friends,” you grinned.

“He’s a cocky asshole,” said Sam, flipping through some papers. “But he makes you happy.”

“Are his pants rolled up?” you asked with a smirk, catching site of the cuff at the bottom over his work boots.

“Oh trust me. We’ve been ragging on him all day long,” said Sam. “Staying over Dean’s again tonight?”

“Probably,” you said as you started to leave. 

“Y/N. Don’t you think you guys are going a little fast?” he asked.

“Sam. He’s been my boyfriend for nearly two months and I’m a big girl,” you said. He held up his hands and your walked around his desk, giving him a hug. “This isn’t another Lou incident.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again is all.”

“Dean’s different than Lou. Even you can know that.”

“You still fell for Lou.”

“I was in love with the idea of being in love. I didn’t love Lou.”

“Do you think you might love Dean?”

“I could see myself doing that down the road,” you said. “I gotta take Mr. Grumples home so he can get ready to have dinner at our place-”

“No,” groaned Sam, his head thrown back. “I just spent nearly nine hours with the guy.”

“He’s been over there all day and Dean’s downstairs is torn apart from the electrician right now. Come on. He hangs out for one night? Pretty please big brother?” you asked. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sucker.”

“You’re cooking,” he said. You hummed and headed across the way to Dean’s office, rattling on the doorway.

“Howdy handsome,” you said. He lifted his head up and grinned. “Look at your cute little suit.”

“I hate it,” he said. “God, stick me in my SWAT uniform any day over this shit.”

“You do look nice, even if the suit doesn’t quite fit,” you said, one of the guys from his SWAT team poking his head in the door. “Hi-”

“We got a hostage situation downtown,” said Henry, Dean jumping out of his seat. “Hey Y/N. Gotta run.”

“Y/N, I’ll see you at my place tonight, okay?” said Dean, ducking out of his office. “It’s gonna be a few hours probably.”

“Okay,” you said, walking forward and grabbing his hand.

“Y/N, I gotta go get suited up,” he said. 

“I know,” you said, leaning up and kissing him. “Be safe.”

“Always am,” he said, someone else from his team he recognized jogging down the hall.

“Dean! Hold up!” he called as Dean started to leave. “Micky’s out sick today.”

“Shit. Steve’s on vacation too,” said Dean. “Who’s on the roster?”

“Gary but I know he and his wife are driving up to the lake this weekend. He took a half day. He’s an hour out,” he said. Dean scanned his eyes and looked around the room, biting his bottom lip. “Weston!”

“What?” shouted Sam from his office.

“Dress. Now. Hughie, get him suited up. I want him on strictly surveillance. It’s all he’s cleared for,” said Dean as Sam jogged out of his office. “I said now Weston!”

“Dean,” you said as he started heading down the hall. 

“I’ll keep him safe. I promise. I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.”

Four Hours Later

“Oh my God,” you said as Sam walked into the house, still in his SWAT gear. “What is going on? A cop showed up an hour ago and said I couldn’t leave. He’s been parked out front all-”

“Y/N,” said Sam, showing in another man you recognized from their work. “This is Officer Todd. He’s Dean’s supervisor and he’s responsible for the SWAT organization in our department. He needs to ask you some questions.”

“Where’s Dean?” you asked. Officer Todd stared at you and took a deep breath. “Where’s Dean?”

“I need to-”

“Is he dead?” you asked with a thick swallow.

“We don’t believe so,” said the officer. 

“How the fuck don’t you know the answer? Either he is or-”

“An erroneous situation happened and we will all yell and place blame at another time. But if you want to help Dean, I need you to answer anything I ask of you and I mean anything,” he said. 

“What happened to Dean? Where is he? Is he stuck on your call you-”

“Y/N, we don’t know where he is,” said Sam. You stuck out your neck and Sam shut his eyes. “It was a trap and we fell for it.”

“It was a hostage situation. You-”

“It was a mistake. We believe Dean was the real target. We’re unable to locate him. Now I need you to answer my questions. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find Dean, alright?” asked Officer Todd. You nodded and sat down on the couch, the officer pulling out a notepad.

“Hey,” said the cop that’d been parked in the driveway, Sam and officer Todd long gone. You lifted your head up from the couch where you watched late night TV, the cop giving you a smile. “Can I use your bathroom quick?”

“Around the corner to the left. First door on the right,” you said. He waved and stepped inside, ducking around as you let out a sigh. You tugged your blanket up over yourself, bolting upright when you heard a thud. “Officer Hendricks? You okay?”

You got up and looked around the corner, two men in masks standing there. You turned and bolted for the front door, a foot tripping you along the way, smacking you straight into the ground. You rolled and stared up at them, one of them squatting down close to you.

“We need you to get something for us,” he said. “It’s at the police station. If you get it for us, you can have back your boyfriend.”

“Look at this,” said the other guy, taking a picture off the wall. “She’s with a cop.”

“That ain’t Smith,” said the first guy, looking around the room and spotting a picture of you and Sam from when you were kids. “It’s her brother.”

“He could get it and we bring her with us.” They stared down at you where you’d backed up next to the end table. “It might keep Smith more complacent. We’re gonna need that password eventually and she’ll get us that password.”

You reached into the basket and pulled out the gun hidden there, both men more in awe than anything else.

“No I don’t think you two understand how this works,” you said, standing up. “You tell me where Dean is and maybe I don’t shoot your dicks off if I like the answer.”

“She wouldn’t-” You pulled the trigger and shot the shorter one in the thigh, the other guy jumping.

“That was a warning shot. Now where’s Dean?”

Three Hours Later

You spun around in the office chair you’d been sat in for over an hour, slumped down and checking out of the door every few minutes.

“Hey,” said Sam, suddenly in the doorway. You turned and he was smiling, looking to his right. “Got somebody who says they owe you one.”

Dean smirked as he stepped into view, a black eye and scuffed up cheek but he looked relatively okay. You got up and gave him a hug, Dean laughing to himself.

“So you can cook and have that level of marksmanship? You’re the full package, aren’t ya,” said Dean, squeezing you tight. 

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“He’s fine. A few scrapes. Bigger issue is what these guys wanted,” said Sam.

“I’ve got the security code to our SWAT arsenal. It’s located near the back so it’s pretty easy to get in and out if you have the code,” he said.

“So it wasn’t you they wanted?”

“Just the info I had. The electrician at my house the past few days wasn’t a real one. They were snooping through my crap, trying to find it written down somewhere.”

“There’s a lot of stuff in that room that we don’t want on the street,” said Sam. “This is my case now. Something bigger is going on we don’t know about yet.”

“It’s highly unlikely they’d try that method of getting access again,” said Dean, glancing to Sam. “But Sam and I think it might be a good idea if I stayed with you guys for a while, until this settles down.”

“So you’re the one that gets kidnapped and I stop a kidnapping and save you yet I’m the one that needs protection,” you said. 

“God no. I want you watching my back,” said Dean. “I’m the wimp around here.”

You smiled and he gave you a kiss, wincing a little as you noticed the split lip. 

“If that’s okay with you that is.”

“Yeah,” you said, Sam ducking past you into his office. “Hey. When were you gonna tell me you signed up for the backup squad?”

“I thought it might help me look at things from a different perspective,” said Sam.

“You just wanted to wear the pants. They do make your ass look great I gotta say, Sammy,” teased Dean.

“Can you go get kidnapped again or something?” said Sam, stretching in his seat. “I gotta write up my report. Take him home Y/N. They’re leaving a few officers just in case.”

“I can do that,” you said. “Don’t stay too late, Sam.”

“I won’t,” said Sam, Dean leaving your side to head into his office.

“Y/N,” said Sam quietly. “Keep an eye on him. It might be a rough night for him.”

“He told you.”

“That he’s got PTSD? Yeah when we debriefed him he told me,” said Sam. “So keep an eye on him.”

“You tell him you do too?” you asked. 

“No. Someday,” he said as Dean came back with his backpack. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Later Sammy,” said Dean with a wave.

“I’m regretting this already.”

“Ouch,” hissed Dean as you put a new bandage on his writs at home. “That hurts.”

“You’re supposed to change them every few hours and your other ones were all bloody. This cream is supposed to help you not scar,” you said, undoing his other wrist. He pouted as you removed the roll, his right wrist as torn up and scabbed as the left was. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and he yanked it to his chest. You held up your hands and he offered it back slowly. “It’s alright.”

You tried to be more gentle as you put on the cream, carefully wrapping up the wrist again. Dean put his hands in his lap while you put the rest of the first aid stuff in your bathroom. You found him still sat on top of your bed when you returned, Dean picking at the bandage on his ankle.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry I put you in danger.” He kept his head down and you sat beside him, tucking your knees into your chest.

“You didn’t put me in danger. Bad people did. If it wasn’t you it would have been your supervisor or someone else that knew that code. They thought you were the easiest to get to was all. Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Hold onto me tonight?” he asked. 

“That I can do.” You wrapped your arms around him and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. But I will. I’ll tell you about the other stuff someday too.”  

“Okay,” you said. “It’s pretty late. How about I get you some of Sam’s clothes to sleep in?”

“That big hoodie over there looks pretty nice,” he said, nodding to the one draped over your chair. You slid away and got up, helping him into it, tugging it down. 

“Looks good on you,” you said. You turned on your corner light and hit off the main switch, pulling back the covers for both of you to get under.

“Y/N?” You hummed as you tugged the blankets up and wrapped your arms around him. “Be careful. Sam was right. Whoever wanted those weapons is still out there. They want to do something bad.”

“I will be. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to steal some guns.”

“It’s not just guns in there. Maybe you got a point. Maybe they want something else in there,” said Dean. 

“We’ll bring it up tomorrow. Tonight let’s try to relax okay?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Tomorrow’ll be better Dean, I promise.”

_________

A/N: Read the final part coming soon!

#tell me a story bingo #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x #dean x you

[floralseokjin]

PBN drabble; A surprise

warnings; smidgen of angst, fluff!!  word count; 1.6k

author’s note; i know i’ve missed a lot of the in between, and i will try to catch up on those drabbles at a later date, but the need to write this was too much. it’s been an idea of mine for ages, finally had to share!! please enjoy the surprise 😘

5:15. 

Yoongi would be home any minute now. Your gut turned, a new kind of sick twisting your insides. For the past four days you’d felt awful. Throwing up a handful of times too. Yoongi was hellbent it was the steak you’d eaten on the weekend. You weren’t so sure. The restaurant you’d had it from was your favourite. You always ate there. 

No. This was a different kind of sick. You’d had food poisoning before, it was horrific. It wasn’t stomach flu either. Yoongi was fine, so it wasn’t catching. This was different. More of a constant nausea. It reminded you of carsickness. You used to suffer with that a lot when you were kid. 

You hadn’t thought much of it at first, maybe you were just tired or something, under the weather, but then Seulgi and her logic had suggested something yesterday afternoon. Maybe you were pregnant. Of course she’s been joking around, but you couldn’t shake it. What if you were?

You’d stopped taking the pill two months ago, wanting to try another form of contraception after giving your body a few months break. You’d been told your periods could be irregular to start off with, so while the first had come on time, you hadn’t thought much of the second one being late. Some of the signs had been there. Bloating, painful boobs, tiredness... just no actual period. A quick google search told you they were also early signs of pregnancy. Impossible. Surely? You’d been using a condom every single time. Although maybe they weren’t the most effective. What if one had split without you both realising? 

This morning Yoongi had already left for work by the time you’d woken up, still feeling rough. Your heart had sunk. There was only one thing left to do. Just to put your mind at ease. You needed to take a pregnancy test. Calling out of work (for the third day in a row), you’d gotten showered quickly, making the short walk to the drugstore in record time. You were being stupid, you kept telling yourself. You repeated it over and over again as you walked home. Over and over again as you rushed to the bathroom and peed on the stupid stick. There was no way you were pregnant. There couldn’t be. 

Could there? 

Waiting those three minutes for the results were the most nerve-racking (and longest) of your life, but nothing could prepare you once you saw those two pink lines. It was like your world had stopped. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. You immediately threw up. Whether it be from actual morning sickness, shock or panic. All three probably. 

You weren’t ready to have a baby, surely? Yes, you and Yoongi spoke about it from time to time, but it was mostly done in jest. You loved one another but that didn’t mean you were all set to have a baby. You’d been together 4 years, living together for just over one. What would he say? What would you even tell him?! 

You spent the rest of the day numb. Curled up on the sofa, the television playing to itself. You wanted to call your mom, you wanted to tell Seulgi, but you knew Yoongi should be the first to know. So alone, your thoughts orbited around all your anxieties. 

Hearing his keys in the front door, a fresh wave of nausea turned your gut. You heard him in the entry way, kicking his shoes off, his keys landing in the bowl on the little side table you’d both picked out. You’d made a home for yourselves so easily, the thought comforted you for a quick second, but then you saw his face come into view, stood in the doorway. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, a puzzled look on his face. “I thought you were at work.” 

“I called out.” Your voice was hoarse, you hadn’t used it in a few hours. 

As you cleared your throat, Yoongi’s frown deepened. “Are you still feeling sick?” He rushed over, taking a seat next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

You leaned your head against him, letting your eyes flutter closed. Comforted by his warmth, his smell. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad. You were in this with the man you trusted most in this world. The man you loved so fricking much. He loved you too. Always had. 

“It was that steak from Bruno’s, I’m telling you.” He was adamant, stroking a hand through your hair, fingers combing through the tangles. You’d been so out of it today you hadn’t even brushed it. “We should call them up, get our money back.” 

You pressed your face into his warmth, taking one last moment for yourself before you moved, left him, creating a distance between your bodies. “It wasn’t the steak.” 

You could hear the concern in his voice when he said your name. “What’s wrong?”

You shoved a hand in your hoody pocket, fist clenching around a stick of plastic, psyching yourself up. Beside you, Yoongi rubbed your back, getting more and more worried. He chuckled awkwardly. “Come on, babe, you’re scaring me.” 

You didn’t want to scare him. You found your voice, removing the test from your pocket as you spoke. “I’m feeling sick because I’m pregnant.” 

Saying the words out loud for the first time felt weird. Yoongi stiffened up beside you, eyes wide as he stared at the test in your hand. Hesitantly he took it from you, bringing it closer. You didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled. 

“What are we going to do, Yoongi?” Your voice was a whisper. “I don’t understand how it happened. We always use protection.” 

You didn’t think he heard you, still staring at the stick. “You’re pregnant?” You nodded as he finally tore his eyes away and looked at you. You watched the beginnings of smile twitch at his mouth. “We’re going to have a baby?” 

For a moment your chest felt lighter. “If you want to,” you heard yourself say. 

This time he broke out into gummy grin. Despite still looking and sounding dazed, he seemed...happy? Excited? “Of course I want to!” He exclaimed, in his own little world as he stared at the test again. 

He was holding it in both hands now, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re pregnant,” he pretty much awed. Your heart swelled. After feeling heavy all day it was  a very much welcomed improvement. 

“Wait–” He turned his head, suddenly realising something. “Do you want to?” Your earlier behaviour had only just dawned on him, now his forehead creased with fresh concern. 

“I’m in shock.” You answered honestly. “We didn’t plan for it. I thought maybe you’d...” You petered out. Why had you been so worried to tell him again? Taking his arm, you smiled. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. “I want to too.” 

Suddenly you found yourself embraced in his warmth, a bear hug of sorts, Yoongi’s arms squeezing you tight. You felt his lips at your crown and closed your eyes, gripping his sweatshirt, safe and sound. 

“Shit. We’re having a baby?!” He laughed in amazement, over your shoulder. He was still clutching the test. 

“I’m fairly certain.” You chuckled, a hand rooting around inside your hoody again. “I took three tests.” In a bid to be sure, you’d driven to a drugstore ten minutes away. All three had given you the same result. You were definitely pregnant. 

Yoongi broke away, laughing at what he’d just heard, eager to see the evidence. He held them all, gazing at each line and cross and even the word ‘pregnant’ in small black font. “Fuck. How did you piss so much?” 

The laughter bubbled from your throat. Of course it did. He had that ability. No matter the situation he could always get you laughing. You were even more thankful in this moment. 

“Anxiety.” (Although, you had read it was an early symptom of pregnancy too – peeing a lot.) 

Despite your laughter, a couple of tears trickled down your cheeks. Yoongi caught them immediately. “Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, dropping the tests in his lap to reach for your face and kiss them away. 

“They’re not sad tears,” you reassured. You hadn’t cried all day but seeing Yoongi so happy was what got you in the end. 

His eyes were still filled with concern though, pushing the hair out of your face, searching for something in your eyes.. “Were you worried about telling me?” 

“I don’t know why,” you confirmed. It seemed silly now. All your worries seemed pointless. Why had you been so scared at the prospect of raising a child? Of course you could do it. Especially with Yoongi at your side. 

Yoongi understood you. He rubbed your upper back. “I know it’s a shock but it’s not the end of the world.” You smiled thankfully, letting his words soothe you. “In fact, you could say it’s the beginning of the world.” His happy little grin got you, giggling at his lame ass line. 

He leaned in, rubbing his nose with yours. “Our world.” You cupped his face as he pressed a kiss to your mouth, letting your eyes close briefly before he pulled away. “I love you,” he sang softly. 

His eyes were twinkling, the happiness he felt obvious. “I love you too,” you sang right back. 

Chuckling under his breath he was still amazed. “We made a baby.” 

Running your fingers through his dark hair, you grinned and confirmed. “We made a baby.”

#fic:pbn #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || ii

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. but is it worth the complications it could cause?

warnings: f!reader, mentions of depression/implied depiction of depression

wc: 2.9k

m.list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3 

last time... 

He leant in, pressing his lips against yours softly. You froze, every nerve in your body now on high alert.

Iwaizumi Hajime? Kissing you? No way. No. Better yet, your first kiss? You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening.

And yet the burning of your cheeks, the swelling of your heart, the feeling of his lips pressed against yours all said otherwise. This was happening.

✧ ✧ ✧

You’d half-convinced yourself that it was all a dream. There was no way Hajime had kissed you last night. No way he’d looked at you like that – like you were the most delightful thing he’d ever seen.

It sounded far too good to be true.

But the smile he’d given you in the morning told you otherwise.

It was so gentle, so honest. There’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve only caught a few times before, and each time he knew you could see it, he had always looked away.

But this morning was different. Because last night had been different.

Because he’d kissed you.

The two of you were in the kitchen, Iwaizumi with a cup of milk in hand and you empty-handed. You had intended to come and get yourself some breakfast, but you weren’t sure if you could stomach it now. Not with all these butterflies crashing around in there.

You hadn’t even said anything to each other – just looking at him was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt into a useless puddle. 

He nodded to the kitchen counter. You followed his gaze to a mug, the string and tag of a tea bag dangling over the side. One look at the tag and you knew it was your favourite. 

Oh. He remembered. You weren’t even sure if you’d told him that detail, but he’d paid enough attention regardless. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, casting your eyes to the ground.              

Come on, you thought, at least say thank you. You’ve spoken to him plenty of times before. If anything, you should be less nervous now – he’d kissed you. Kissed you! That meant that he must like you a little bit, right?

Your heart bloomed in your chest, spreading a feeling like static throughout your body. At the very least, you could say good morning. And you knew – you just knew – that he would smile at you again. That’s enough motivation.

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes back up.

“Are you alright?” Tooru’s voice popped your bubble. He was standing just to your left, bread bun in hand and cheeks puffy like a squirrel’s.

“Hm?” You tried to pay him no attention; you absolutely didn’t want to give Tooru a reason to tease.

“You look sick.”

Of course. You shot him a glare, the dreamy look on your face morphing into a scowl. “Oh, thanks?”

“What?” Tooru whined, mouth full of bread.

“You’re being rude.”

Tooru scoffed, swallowing in one big gulp. “I am just a concerned brother, I don’t know why you’re demonizing me—”

You rolled your eyes, stalking over to the kettle.

Chances were a conversation with Hajime was likely out of the question, at least for today. You didn’t want to just announce this… thing between you to Tooru.

You’d just text him later.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Here,” he smiled, holding your boba out to you. He knew your favourite order like it was his own. That enough made your heart go wild.

“Thanks,” you blushed, letting your fingers brush against his as you took the cup from him.

You caught a glimpse of colour in Iwaizumi’s cheeks, and your heart fluttered.

He stabbed his straw into his boba and brought it to his lips.

He had such nice lips. They weren’t particularly big or striking, but they were nicely shaped. They complimented his face, balancing well with the rest of his features. And best of all, they were softer than—

You snapped your eyes away, heat flooding through your face.

God, you were embarrassing. This was embarrassing.

The two of you had already kissed. Why were you so damn awkward. Surely, you could hold his hand. That usually came before kissing for most couples. You might be working backwards, but that was okay, right?

“Hey, uh… Hajime?” Your throat was dry, your hands clammy.

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. This was still harder than you’d given it credit for. Even if you had crossed other lines, this was still more exciting than it should be. “Can I hold your hand?”

There’s a moment of silence. A long silence.

Had you said something wrong? Was this moving too quickly? But he’d kissed you…

“Ah, that’s…” He said finally. You caught your breath. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh…” You tried to swallow down the weird little lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Not, uh…” He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not until we’ve told Oikawa.”

“Right,” you nodded. You fought the urge to shake off your disappointment, to stretch out the fuzziness in your hands.  

You’d get there eventually, you told yourself. One of these days, you’d walk hand-in-hand with Iwaizumi Hajime, happy and giggly and open about your feelings.

You couldn’t wait for that day.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where’s Hajime?” You asked, juice box in hand and frown on your face.

“He said he needed to study this weekend,” Tooru yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

You did your best not to pout.

Other than your Tuesday walks, Friday was the only other opportunity each week to spend time with him without it being too obvious.

But he wasn’t there this Friday.

A little knot sat at the bottom of your stomach, small enough to be ignored, but heavy enough to give you pause.

You shook your head, frowning.

No, you were being silly. He was just busy this weekend – and perhaps you should be, too. There was no reason for you to be so worried.

Not when he’d given you no real reason to be.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been almost two weeks since he’d kissed you.

It’s been four days since he’d had a proper conversation with you.

On reflection, he had been a little weird on Thursday. His texts had been drier than usual – and he was already a pretty dry texter. Then, he hadn’t come over to your house on Friday like he usually did.

And then, he hadn’t texted you at all over the weekend.

That little knot in your stomach from Friday had gotten tighter, bigger, more demanding.

It’s like he was hiding you away. Some part of you – a part you very much wanted to throttle – feared that he was doing so because he was ashamed. That being seen with you would be embarrassing. Not that he’d given you any reason to think that, but the worry just wouldn’t shift.

The more logical part of your brain knew he was doing it so Tooru wouldn’t see you together. That alone is enough to root a deeper, more violent anxiety through your stomach.

But he had to walk you home today. You didn’t feel like he’d bail on that, at least.  

To your relief, he was waiting for you at the school gate.

But as you made your way to the boba shop, he didn’t say much. He wasn’t the most talkative of people, but even this was quiet for him.

And when he was purchasing both your drinks, he made no comment about your financial ‘situation’. The most you could get out of him were some anecdotes from practice or what assignments and exams he had coming up.

And as you walked on, the stretches of silence grew longer. Usually, you wouldn’t mind them, but these days…

Hajime sighed, slowing to a stop. You shuttered to a stop after him, only just becoming aware of your surroundings.

To your left, the mountains. To your right, some rocks and a wall. In front of you, Hajime.

This was familiar. This spot, this boba, this afternoon.

But something was distinctly off. This wasn’t your typical outing to go look at the mountains. This was different.

You bit the inside of your cheek. So, he was of the same mind as you.

“So,” you sighed, sitting yourself down on the rocks. It was warm to the touch, likely from basking in the summer sun all afternoon. Hajime remained standing, his eyes trained on the mountains.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what there was to say. Was this his way of telling you he wasn’t interested? Was that it? You’d never really been involved like this with a guy before, so the potential was there. Was this just standard practice for boys?

“How are you?” Hajime asked, a strange stiffness in his voice. There was usually a bit of tightness in his face, a light scowl or a look of intense concentration. But even he looked tenser than usual.

“I’m okay,” you lied. You took a moment to try and catch his eye. He wouldn’t look at you. “How about you?” You asked, hoping to alleviate at least some of the awful atmosphere that had begun to cloud around the two of you. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Perhaps you were being more polite about it than you should’ve. Perhaps you should’ve stormed up to him with a vengeance, demanding to know why he was suddenly ignoring you after taking your very first kiss.

But you just didn’t have the guts to do that. Not at seventeen.

“Yeah…” Hajime mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

You were well-aware that it wasn’t entirely a lie. He was Seijoh’s ace after all. And his studies were becoming more and more important. You knew as much.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

You bit your lip, looking down at your skirt. You took a deep breath, placing your boba on the ground next to you.

“Hey, Hajime… I think we should talk,” you swallowed, your heart stuttering in your chest. “About…”

“I know.” He cleared his throat, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah…” You braved a glance at him.

His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed in that familiar knot.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Hajime?” You murmured, clenching your fists in your lap. You wanted to reach out to him, to place a comforting hand on his back. But your instincts were at war with one another, unsure of what to do.

He looked at you for the first time. There’s something like torment behind his eyes. Hopelessness, conflict, regret. It felt like something really terrible had happened – was about to happen.

It felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Look, I…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best if we pretend this never happened.”

The world shuttered to a stop. The mild afternoon sun was now searing your skin.

“What?”

“There’s too much that could go wrong.” His response was instantaneous – a little too quick by your count.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, twisting your skirt in your fists.

He was quiet for a long moment, still looking at the sky. “What if we broke up?”

You froze, objections dying in your throat. It was a fair question. But you weren’t sure if it was entirely relevant.

“We haven’t even given it a shot yet,” you murmured, trying to swallow down the discomfort brewing in your chest.

“And it’s best if we don’t.” His voice was firm, blunt. It’s the voice he used when trying to get through to Tooru.

Tooru…

“Did he say something to you?” You asked quietly, closing your eyes. If your brother…

“He doesn’t know.” Hajime knew exactly what you were talking about. “And it’s best if he didn’t.”

“Why not?” There’s something else brewing in your chest, not unlike indignation.

“One of the guys asked him about you,” Hajime said, his voice spread thin.

“They did?” You frowned. You knew who ‘the guys’ were. But you hadn’t spent enough time with the volleyball team for you to actually know what any of them were like. Although, you were only fixated on Hajime. That might have something to do with it.

“Yeah…” Hajime nodded. “And he was pretty mad.”

Really? Tooru had the gall to get angry at the fact a boy expressed interest in you? That’s why Hajime wanted to call this off?

“Are you scared of him?” You snapped before you could stop yourself.

He sighed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Your response was quick, sharp, irritated. But if Hajime caught onto that, he didn’t say.

“It’s just…” He sighed. “It could get messy.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to still the barrage of questions you had. This didn’t make sense. Why would he—

“I don’t want to lose both of you.” His voice was soft, fragile. More fragile than you’ve ever heard it be.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say to that.

“What do you think he’s going to do if he thinks I’m messing around with you?”

Your chest ached. “Messing around?” The corners of your eyes were starting to sting.

“I don’t mean it like that—”

“Is that what you saw it as?”

“No.” He almost shouted that. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. “But he will.”

You understood.

God, you understood.

Hajime was scared that you thought he was using you. That he was playing with your feelings and leading you on. Worse yet, he was frightened that Tooru would think that way, too.

Would Tooru perceive it as a betrayal? Would your relationship cause conflict in their friendship? Would you fuck everything up by getting involved?

Tooru trusted him more than anyone. You knew how much Hajime meant to him.

And you knew that Hajime wasn’t going to throw that away for a crush.

You took a deep breath. Your throat had grown painfully dry, and your stomach was starting to swell. You needed to get home.

“Alright,” you said, standing to your feet.

Hajime stared at you for a moment, a strange brew of emotions in his eyes. You didn’t have the energy to try and work them out.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi,” you mumbled, giving him a quick bow. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He was silent for a long moment as you bent down to pick up your boba. The boba he’d bought you. He hadn’t teased you for your lack of funds today. Had that been a preemptive apology?

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You didn’t look at him as you turned around, already plotting your walk home without him. Surely he’d understand that you needed to be alone right now.

He didn’t chase after you. Not as you walked away. Not as you threw your unfinished boba into a bin. Not as you held back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, fists clenched at your sides.

A weight pressed inside your chest, something so heavy and immovable that you knew you couldn’t keep it down this time. The bitterness you’d been trying to stifle for years bled through your ribs, rippling through your body.

Tooru got everything.

He got the passion, the drive, the direction.

He got all the attention, the opportunities, the praise.

He got Hajime.

✧ ✧ ✧

The cool touch of porcelain in the pitch dark was more soothing than you’d given it credit for.

You hadn’t known what else to do. If you were in your room, chances were someone could walk in – especially if you turned all the lights off and hid under your covers.

Admittedly, hiding in the bathroom with all the lights turned off was no less suspicious. But there’s something comforting about the cold and dark. Your brother had been onto something all those years ago.

When you were younger, you’d found Tooru sitting in the bathtub, knees drawn up to his chest while he cried.

He’d been fourteen at the time. You were barely thirteen.

You hadn’t known what to do – the first thing you did was run for Hajime.

That’s what you’d always done when it came to Tooru. You always turned to Iwaizumi – without fail, that was your answer to almost every issue. It was the only thing you could think of, even to this day.

The light flickered on. You flinched, your eyes screwing shut at the sudden assault on your retinas.

Someone yelped. It wasn’t you.

You whipped your head round, squinting at him.

“What are you doing in here?” Tooru asked, face marked mainly by confusion but not without a hint of concern.

“Just… sitting,” you said, blinking a few times.

There was no way you’d tell him why you were here. Something in you felt like that’d be wrong; that, maybe, you’d be betraying Iwaizumi’s trust.  

“What happened?” Tooru asked, his voice soft and tender. He crouched down besides the bathtub, propping his elbows on the ledge.

You shook your head, looking away from him.

“You can tell me,” Tooru pouted. “Do you need me to beat someone up for you?”

“No,” you choked, cursing yourself for the crack in your voice. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

You glared at him, sniffling. God, you must look pathetic.

“Hey,” Tooru held his hands up. “I’m just being honest.”

You let out a long sigh, rolling your shoulders.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You sure?” Tooru said, concern heavy in his voice. “I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Tooru,” you sighed.

You couldn’t tell him. Even if he offered to support you, offered to beat up anyone who broke your heart.

Because the very person that had broken your heart was the very same boy who pulled him up off the ground. 

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime imagine #tiny love

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah? 

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up . 

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking. 

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself. 

 I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God. 

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce. 

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and  I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face. 

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son. 

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking? 

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart. 

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying. 

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding. 

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did. 

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests. 

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction. 

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him. 

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer. 

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes. 

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in. 

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone. 

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little. 

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly. 

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared. 

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there? 

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly. 

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there. 

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.” 

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise. 

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee? 

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date  me. 

 Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t . 

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle. 

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped. 

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more. 

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up. 

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink. 

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully. 

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me. 

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.” 

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though. 

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. 

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

 I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

 “ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely. 

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back. 

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “ 

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands. 

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully. 

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

 I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly. 

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it. 

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight? 

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed? 

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me. 

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare. 

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build. 

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder. 

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered. 

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”  

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that. 

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.  

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced. 

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t argue further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well. 

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains. 

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?” 

His voice. Fuck. 

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me. 

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that. 

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face. 

 What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.” 

I shook my head. 

 “I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him. 

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine. 

“Get those handcuffs.” 

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie. 

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me. 

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....” 

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise. 

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked. 

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke. 

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders. 

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me. 

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML. 

Also requests open :) 

#bts fanfics #bts smut #bts #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics

[everybodyscupoftea]

this is the life

ole miss rafe x reader

you and your boyfriend deal with your ~futures~

literally no one asked for this lol, i’m sorry

(warnings: cursing)

Your animal and dairy sciences seminar had a report due that you’d stayed up very late making last minute edits to because you were stressed it was really bad. The next morning was brutal. Not only was in an 8 a.m. lecture, but your coffee machine was out and you overslept, barely giving yourself enough time to get to class before the professor checked attendance.

You slid into your seat, out of breath, just as started scanning the seating chart for attendance. The boy who sits next to you turned to ask, “Library was backed up this morning?”

“What?” you asked, halfway paying attention, still scrambling to get your notebook out.

“Since you’re running late, I’m assuming it’s because the library was busy when you went to print your report.”

Your stomach dropped and you swore, “Fuck. I forgot to print it. Fucking fuck. I submitted it online but I forgot we needed to hand him a physical copy too. Oh god I can’t afford to fail this class.” You were getting worked up and the boy was starting to look more and more like he regretted talking to you in the first place.

“I mean he’s pretty chill, so I’m sure if you explain he’ll let you bring it by his office later.”

The boy had a point, but you were already too far gone. For the rest of the class, you were unfocused, and if someone asked you what he lectured on, you’d have no clue, so preoccupied with rehearsing how you were going to beg him for an extension. You only had one other class, and you’d definitely be able to print it out and run it to him between them, but that was depending on if he let you.

Just as class was ending, your phone vibrated in your hoodie pocket, and you checked it, immediately calmed at seeing a text from your boyfriend. Rafe sent Can’t wait to see you this weekend and whatever had a grip on your chest loosened enough for you to take a full breath for the first time since waking up.

After speaking to your professor and his reassurance that you didn’t really need to worry much about the written report, that it was just to ensure everyone had it turned in prior to class, you left, much happier, but the exhaustion hitting you straight in the gut.

Thankfully, all you had left that day was a communication elective and then to drive to Rafe’s apartment in Oxford. He’d convinced you to make the trip because he wanted to show you around the place he’d called home for four years after leaving behind his “hometown trauma.” His words.

Your class flew by, people were giving speeches and you’d given yours Wednesday, so you sat there mindlessly, half asleep, until she dismissed the class for the weekend. Stopping back by your apartment to pick up your overnight bag, you decided to last minute check your PO Box, it had been a while. To your shock, you actually had mail, and when you saw the return address, the sick feeling returned to your stomach.

There was about a two-hour drive to Rafe’s apartment from Starkville, and you had the option of opening the letter containing either the best news or the worst news of your life before the drive or at Rafe’s apartment. Part of you wanted to know then, but a stronger part of you wanted to be with Rafe so he could comfort you if necessary.

Instead of making a decision, you felt your tired brain could not, you called Rafe. He answered before the second ring and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I see that receptionist job taught you some useful skills.”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Answering my calls fast, that’s good because my time is money.”

Rafe sighed, “Can I help you?”

“Someone’s mad. But, yes, should I open the letter from the vet school now or wait until I get to Oxford.”

You heard some shuffling around before he answered, “You think you can wait? I actually have something to tell you too.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” you were a little worried, “Is everything okay?”

“I think so. We just need to talk.”

“Right, talk, are you sure everything’s good?”

“Yeah, stop worrying. Just drive on over.”

You had been excited to go visit, but after that phone call you wanted to go back to bed. With a deep sigh, you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and slumped backward. Blinking away the spots, you buckled up, pit in your stomach, and drove to your favorite coffee shop in Starkville. If shit was going to go down in Oxford you were going to have your comfort drink.

StrangeBrew’s drive-thru was packed and you tapped your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as you waited to order your blueberry cobbler cold brew with soy milk. Right as the barista handed you the to-go cup, your phone vibrated and Rafe had sent drive safe!! <3. The fuck did that mean in the context of your earlier phone conversation?!

The drive to Oxford was boring as hell. You’d made it before, a band you liked had played there one night, and you and some friends had made the reluctant trip to see them. Turning on your podcast, you focused on nothing but the drive, pushing aside relationship doubts and the growing anxiety about the letter sitting in your passenger seat.

You called Rafe when you got close, and he was waiting outside his building when you finally found a visitor’s spot. He jogged over to grab your overnight bag and bent down to give you a quick kiss, before greeting you with, “Hey, baby, how was the drive?”

“Boring as fuck, nothing new.”

“Went smoothly?”

“About as smooth as possible. I’ve had to pee for the last like 40 minutes though, so it’d be great if I could do that now.”

He laughed and turned to walk to his building, motioning for you to follow him. You did, scampering a little to keep up with his long strides, and he unlocked a door on the first floor, holding it open for you, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.”

Rafe was sitting on the couch when you made it back out to the living room, and you finally took a good look at him. His laptop was on the coffee table and he was wearing a pair of Ole Miss sweats, a worn-out t-shirt, and a pair of glasses you were unaware he needed.

“Take a picture,” he interrupted your train of thought and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Cameron. Now, tell me what you want to talk about so I can open my letter.”

“No, open your letter first and then we’ll talk.”

You weren’t sure why he was so insistent or why your heart rate tripled, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t the coffee. With shaking hands, you held up the letter from the MSU Vet School. All of your undergrad work came down to that letter, whether you’d have to take a gap year and try to find work to apply again or whether you could move forward in your career path.

Rafe watched on eagerly as you carefully tore it open and started reading. Eyes jumping across the page, unable to focus, you barely made out, Congratulations and We welcome you and We look forward to seeing you next fall.

With a gasp, you launched yourself at an unprepared Rafe and latched on, arms wrapped around his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly and asked, gently, “Good news?”

“I’m going to Vet School,” you whispered, voice cracking in the middle of your sentence.

“Fucking right you are, my little Rockstar.”

Your face heated up and you buried it in the crook of his neck, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Only to come crashing back down a few seconds later as you remembered Rafe wanted to talk. Pulling back slowly, you asked, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

His face lit up and he leaned forward, hanging on to you so he didn’t accidentally dump you onto the floor, and grabbed his laptop. Clicking to his email, he showed you the message he had pulled up from Mississippi State University Department of History Admissions.

“So, you know I’ve been interested in teaching,” he started, “and I’m debating whether I’d like to teach college or not.”

“Yeah, last we talked, you were leaning toward college professor, right?”

“Right. Well, I applied to a few schools that had a PhD program I was interested in, and I heard back from my top choice.”

Your mind was racing, still not connecting the dots, until he motioned at his laptop. Looking back down, you skimmed the email, telling him that he’d been accepted into MSU’s PhD in European History program and gasped, turning back to him in excitement, “No way?!”

“Way,” he told you, wide grin on his face.

Jaw dropped, your mind raced to put together a coherent thought, “How long have you been planning this?”

“The program is good, this isn’t a new thought, but MSU obviously jumped up my preference list to the top after we got together.”

“Fuckin whipped,” you teased and he tilted your chin down to kiss you.

Pulling away he brushed some of your hair back, “Only for you.”

As he leaned in again, you were the one to pull back, “Wait, we have to celebrate!”

Rafe groaned, “No, let me kiss you.”

“No! I want food, I spent the entire ride thinking I was going to get dumped when I got here.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“We need to talk,” you quoted, “that’s one scary fucking sentence, Cameron.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“Well you did.”

Rafe leaned in to kiss you again and pulled back to add, “You really think I’d make you drive all the way here, just to break up with you. I’m wounded you think that lowly of me.”

“You are an asshole.”

Rolling his eyes, he pinched your cheek gently, “Be nice to me, I’m sacrificing my dignity and lowering myself to Mississippi State’s standards.”

Blinking a few times in surprise at his sudden switch, you told him back, “Fuck off, I’m sure you were last choice as soon as they saw where you got your undergrad degree.”

Without saying anything else, he kissed you again, gripping behind your knees and shifting so your back was on the couch. As he lowered himself down on top of you, you decided that food could wait. You had your future to celebrate.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe obx #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #college rafe #ole miss rafe

[gingeralepdf]

A Little Love

A/N: here she isss!!! this is the piece that i wrote for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that was set up by the amazing @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h and @oh-honey-styles (thank you for organizing all of this!! you’re all legends!!)

extra big thank you to lydia @youresogolden-h and brailey @daydreamsofh for being such sweet beta readers <3

this is my first ever attempt at writing fic, so i hope you enjoy it!

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption

Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

word count: ~8K

**April 25, 2020, 11:15am**

It’s a comfortable spring day in San Francisco. The windows are cracked, letting in sweet smelling fresh air and the moderate bustle of people out and about. Despite the perfect weather to be out at the market or taking a walk in the park, you’re currently at your neighbor’s apartment, slouched on the couch in the living room and in the midst of a New Girl marathon. Or rather, you are in the midst of a New Girl marathon, but your friend has not looked up from the guitar he is restringing for the past fifteen minutes.

You’ve been stealing glances at Harry from the other end of the couch. He has the guitar laying across his lap. He’s able to take all of the strings off and put three new ones on without a problem, but something about the fourth string seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. Every time he gets the string wound up on the tuning key, it snaps loose, like it can’t hold the tension. After several attempts with the same result, Harry sets his string winder on the coffee table and lets out a frustrated huff while scratching his forehead.

Although you know it’s probably best to not make a comment while he’s annoyed, you decide to make one anyway.

Just as he grabs the winder from the coffee table and goes in for another attempt at the string, you blurt out, “I thought the whole point of watching Netflix at your house instead of mine was so you could work and watch at the same time.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slowly cranes his head to look in your direction, “I am watching.”

“Right, so tell me what Miranda has been up to,” you challenge.

Harry lowers his head in concentration, making another attempt at winding up the string on the tuning key, “She’s like… going on a date or something.”

“Miranda isn’t even a character in the show!”

The tuning key once again snaps loose. Harry’s nostrils flare and he mutters a quick “Fucks sake.”

A moment passes where the only sound in the room is the TV. You’re trying to gauge whether or not you’ve actually pissed him off a bit. You decide to bite your tongue and see what he is going to say next.

Harry finally shifts his eyes from the guitar to you, “Obviously I can’t work and watch at the same time.”

You give him a pointed look, “You think?”

“I promise I can finish this project pretty quick, and then I’ll watch, like, four episodes, uninterrupted. I just need to go get some parts so… would you mind pausing it?”

Once the show is paused, Harry gets up from his spot on the couch, gently sets the guitar on the floor, and turns to exit the living room. However, he is stopped short since your legs are making a barricade between the couch and the coffee table. With a mischievous grin on his face, he uses his shin to slowly push your legs away from him so that your feet slide off the end of the table and onto the floor. Your jaw drops in exaggerated offense. Giggles erupt from both of you as he narrowly avoids your attempts to trip him while he steps over your legs and then jogs across the room to his workspace.

A huge benefit of living a couple of buildings away from your best friend is that any given day of the week can be spent like this. The both of you can always be found at either one of your apartments watching hours of Netflix, working on projects, or sharing meals.

Just as you were enjoying the moment of silence that fell onto the room, your phone and Harry’s phone buzz on the coffee table. With a quiet groan, you slowly sit up from the couch to see a text from your boss, sent in a group chat with yourself and Harry.

Would either of you be able to work the closing shift tonight? Sarah called in sick and the rest of the shift leads can’t work today.

Although you and Harry were both looking forward to having a Saturday off, you knew the bar was a little short-staffed this weekend, so you both kind of saw this coming.

“Is that who I think it is?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, Adam’s asking one of us to work the closing shift tonight. Sarah called in sick and I guess Charlotte can’t work today.”

Harry groans as he makes his way back to his previous spot on the couch and plops down with a screwdriver and a plastic bag containing what looks to be a new set of tuning keys in hand.

Harry takes a moment to look around his living room, taking in all of the instrument cases stacked around the small apartment, scratching his jaw in thought. “I mean, I would take it, but I’ve got a lot of projects that have to get done this weekend.”

“I guess that just leaves me then,” you say flatly, sinking further into the couch and staring straight ahead out of the window across the room.

“‘M’ sorry,” Harry says with a light chuckle at your dramatics, “I’ll owe you one.” His offer comes out more like a question.

You look back in his direction to see him with a wide, dimpled grin staring back at you. You know he’s just trying to make you feel better, and it works.

After sending a quick text to your boss letting him know you would be there tonight, you sit up straight and grab the remote from the coffee table. “That’s a really tempting offer. I’ve got a lot of sick days saved up, you know?”

“Heyyyy,” Harry draws out in a playfully offended tone.

You chuckle before asking, “Can we just finish this episode so I can go home and get some rest before work?”

“Yeah I think we can do that.” He sets the screwdriver and plastic bag on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, folding his hands together to rest on his stomach.

You press play on the remote and settle into another day with your best friend.

**April 26, 2020. 1:47am**

About ten minutes until the bar closes, and there are still three large, lively groups hanging around. You and your coworkers have done as many pre-closing tasks as you possibly could, aside from taking the drink glasses straight out of the customers’ hands. Now it just seems to be the longest waiting game ever until you’re officially allowed to kick everyone out.

While you’re all busying yourselves with wiping down counters and straightening chairs, the front door swings open.

Just as you’re about to put on your best customer service face that you can muster, you see a familiar blue and white plaid jacket and fluffy brown curls. Harry is strolling in, surveying the crowd of customers as he’s making his way to where you’re standing at the bar. You see that he is donning a form-fitting grey t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on it, light brown high-waisted pants, and a delicate looking pearl necklace. He always seems to be able to effortlessly look put together, even when he is making bold choices.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and ask with exaggerated charm, “Come here often?”

“Oh god.” He laughs at your ill attempt at comedy through a pained expression.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “Same as always.”

Harry has made it a routine to walk home with you when you’re working the closing shift. Even when you insist that there’s no need for him to stay up so late when he’s not working.

He glances around before looking back at you, “Is there anything I can help with right now?”

You shake your head. “Just waiting for them to leave so we can clean everything.”

“Bollocks,” he mutters before puckering his lips.

You decide to go around the corner of the bar to the prep area where the music controls are. Hopefully the customers will take the hint that it’s time to leave once you lower the volume.

After a few minutes, all of the staff are breathing a collective sigh of relief when one group makes their way to the door and the other two groups shortly follow suit.

By the time you follow the crowd out and you lock the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Considering how busy it was tonight, you’re counting this as a small victory.

Harry and your other coworkers are going around cleaning up glasses and bottles and taking them back to the sink while you make your way to the register to start your shift lead duties.

Once the tips are divided, you take a look around and see that your coworkers are steadily making their way through the cleaning checklist. With Harry’s help, things are moving along pretty quickly. You pull the first bundle of cash out of the drawer and start counting.

After getting the cash drawer sorted out, and counting out a new one for Monday, you hear your coworker saying your name. “I think we’ve done everything on the cleaning checklist. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Actually, all I have left to do is inventory. I’m not gonna hold you hostage for that, so you guys are free to head out if you want to.”

Your coworkers are saying goodnight and clocking out shortly after. Once they're gone, you’re left with the faint buzzing of the refrigerators and the light music over the speakers. You turn around to face the shelves of bottles and notice a few that are running low and need replacing. You go down the ‘employees only’ hallway to the back stockroom and grab all the bottles you need. Hugging them to your chest, you make your way back down the hallway. You walk about halfway when a figure jumps out of the supply closet to your right, causing you to jump backwards and let out a scream.

Harry’s howling laughter echoes through the hallway as you try to catch your breath and will your heart to stop racing.

You finally regain some composure and turn to fully face Harry. His laughter has reduced to occasional soft chuckles falling past his pursed lips. If your arms weren’t full, you would most likely be smacking him for scaring the shit out of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You do your best to give him death glare, but your voice is now shaking with laughter as well. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop any of this stuff, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but you should have seen your face. Holy shit.” He opens his arms and slowly steps toward you to bring you in for a hug.

“Well if you’re so sorry, put these on the shelf for me.” You say as you thrust the bottles into his chest, making him grunt out a laugh.

You walk to the front with Harry trailing behind you. All you have left to do is make a few notes for Adam before finally clocking out. You’ve never been more excited for your head to hit the pillow when you get home.

As you’re making your notes, Harry is pacing about behind you, straightening out all of the bottles on the shelves. He lets out a long observant hum.

“What?”

“Just noticed this guy’s almost empty,” he holds up a bottle of tequila and swirls around what little liquor is left in it. One corner of his mouth turns up before he looks at you, “Enough left for two more shots, probably.”

“Is that so?”

“Y’ wanna find out?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you tilt your head up and tap your chin in thought “I don’t know how I feel about taking shots with people who jump out of supply closets to scare me.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He’s exaggerating and drawing all of his words out as he walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you so that his hands are resting on your left shoulder and he rests the side of his head on the back of yours. “I’m sorry. Please take a shot with me.”

Although it's pointless since he can’t see your face, you roll your eyes in response, “Fine. Pour me one.”

His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze before he moves away and reaches under the counter then puts two shot glasses onto the bar. He reaches behind him for the nearly empty bottle and pours the perfect amount into each glass. Taking them both in his hands, he extends one to you.

You don’t miss the chuckle that he lets out as you take the glass from him. After giving him a questioning look, you notice a slight blush on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was just thinking. This,” he gestures to the two of you and the glasses you’re both holding “reminds me of the day you got into the art institute.”

Around this time a year ago, you had spent weeks pouring over your application for the San Francisco Art Institute and months after that waiting to hear anything back. When you got the acceptance email toward the end of your shift at work, Harry was the first person that you told. Just over a year ago, you were standing with Harry behind this same bar when you told him the good news. Your chest filled with warmth at his reaction. He wrapped you in a nearly suffocating hug as he loudly declared, “I told you you had a kick ass portfolio! So fuckin proud of you.”

Right after he released you from the hug, he poured each of you a shot. Harry then made the impromptu decision of doing a bar crawl after you both got off, deeming the two shots “not enough celebration”.

After a night full of slightly over the top celebrating, you were practically dragging Harry home. It wasn’t until you got to his apartment building that he realized he had left his keys and wallet at one of the bars. Not wanting to drag him back across town, you ended up bringing him back to your apartment just around the corner.

It took a lot of coaxing, but you were able to get him to drink a big glass of water before helping him brush his teeth with your spare toothbrush.

You have a lot of vague and fuzzy memories from that night, but there are two that remain crystal clear. One is the moment when you were clumsily leading him to your couch and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Wish I could kiss you.” And the other is the way your stomach dropped and your heart nearly fluttered out of control at his drunken confession.

The conversations about that night always turned into jokes about you being able to handle your liquor better than he could. His comment was never brought up by either of you. You weren’t sure if he would even remember it, or if either of you really wanted to.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “we should never be allowed to celebrate anything after that. We were miserable the next day.”

You lock eyes with him and for a split second there’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Like a different kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before this moment.

It’s fleeting, however, because he glances down at your hands and clinks your glasses together. You tilt your heads back at the same time, feeling the burn in your throats and letting out sharp exhales once it’s passed.

Harry takes your glass from your hand and silently goes to the prep area. You hear the sink running as you finish up your notes to your boss and you clock out.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah I just need to get my-” you stop mid-sentence when you turn around to see Harry already holding out your bag that had been hanging up in the prep area. You mutter a ‘never mind’ as you take it from him.

Harry grabs his jacket from the pool table and you stroll to the front door together, turning off lights as you go.

You finally step out into the chilly nighttime air. The only noises are coming from the small scattered groups of people gathering in front of the bars on the block that are just closing.

After locking the doors, you and Harry start trudging along the sidewalk up the steep hill. If you had known that it was going to get so much colder and windier during the night, you would have brought a jacket with you. You fold your arms and grit your teeth as another cold breeze hits you from the front.

You don’t even notice Harry taking off his jacket until he’s holding it in front of your face. You pause your walking for a moment to gently take it from his hand.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Well I’m not gonna watch you shiver all the way home.”

You frown a bit as you look at the jacket in your hands. You can still feel the warmth from Harry’s body heat on the hand that’s grasping the inside of it. Having that little bit of warmth already makes you feel better, but you hate to think that he’s going to be the one gritting his teeth against the cold.

He says your name through a chuckle and you look up to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just put the jacket on and let’s get you home, yeah?”

**April 26th, 2020. 5:30am**

It should be considered a crime to be wide awake at this hour, considering the small amount of sleep you’ve gotten. The only thing you had the energy to do when you got home last night was change out of your work clothes and fall into bed. You remember glancing at your clock and reading 3:15 a.m. before your eyelids grew heavy and closed.

The reminder of Harry’s drunk confession that you thought was water under the bridge is now flooding your mind as you desperately try to fall back to sleep. You try to push down the memory of his giggles as you made the strenuous effort of finding the switch on your living room lamp while having nearly all of his body weight leaned against you for support. You try to push down the memory of his flushed cheeks in the glowing yellow light when you finally got him settled on your couch. You try to push down the memory of running your fingers through his soft curls and giving his hairline a soft kiss before going to bed. You try to think of literally anything else.

It isn’t until the very first hints of daylight enter your room that you decide to give up.

The floor is cold on your feet as you walk to your bathroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

After a quick shower and putting on your favorite t-shirt and jeans, you feel less sluggish. You focus on going through your kitchen pantry to find something for your growling stomach.

Although you wish that you were still sleeping soundly in your bed, you think of how rare it is to get to see this city both at the dead of night and when it’s slowly starting to wake up. To be able to greet the light in your living room as it dances across the pictures on your walls and you mill about with your bowl of cereal.

The pictures lined up on your walls remind you of the project that you started last week that you need new photos for. You go to your closet and get the bag that holds your digital camera. Your mind is buzzing at the thought of taking it to the park before it gets too crowded.

You put on a jacket and shoes, pull your camera bag over your shoulder, and head out into the chilly Sunday morning.

********************

You round the corner of your block and start making your way down the steep hill, admiring the multicolored houses across the street that are glowing softly in the morning light. A smile spreads across your face as you reach into your bag for your camera and your fisheye lens. Once you’ve captured a few shots that you’re happy with, you move on toward the park.

You’re coming up on Harry’s building, and you instinctively glance up at the second story bay window that you know belongs to his apartment. Because this side of his building is still in the shade at this point in the day, you can see that his light is on.

“What’s he doing up?” you think to yourself. He’s always been an early riser, but considering how late you both stayed up, you would hope that he had been able to get some extra sleep.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, Harry appears in the window. His blinds are wide open, so you can clearly see him stepping up to his record player and delicately placing the needle on the vinyl. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth.

What your eyes are more drawn to, however, is his choice of clothing, or lack thereof. He’s standing in front of his window in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of underwear. You knew the t-shirt too well as the one he found at a thrift store years ago and became obsessed with after reading the ‘Treat People With Kindness’ logo on the front. He steps back from the record player and tilts his head back to brush his teeth. You watch as his jaw flexes and is accentuated by the light scruff of facial hair along it.

It’s becoming alarmingly clear to you that you are alone in the middle of the sidewalk, about thirty feet away from your best friend’s window, ogling him as he’s minding his own business. As much as your palms are sweating and your stomach is doing somersaults at the prospect of being spotted, you cannot bring yourself to continue walking. You wouldn’t mind becoming a permanent part of the sidewalk if it meant having this kind of view.

Harry turns and walks away from the window. You finally snap out of your daze and hurry past his window, thankful for the help of the downhill slope to move you along. Once you get to the corner of the block, you stop and lean your back against the building. Lightly smacking your forehead, you mutter out loud to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

********************

The trip to the park turned out to be a perfect way to spend the morning. You ended up taking a lot of pictures of murals and flowers before the park started to get too busy.

With your favorite album playing through your headphones, your mind is now buzzing with the excitement of having new photos to edit.

Once you cross the street, you’re now standing on the corner of your block. One way would lead you once again past the window to Harry’s apartment. The other way would help you avoid another potentially awkward sighting, but was much longer and usually includes lines for overcrowded restaurants.

Keeping your head down, you continue walking straight ahead in the same direction that you came from.

As you’re hiking up the hill, you suddenly hear a voice that you know is not coming through your headphones. You turn your volume down and listen to your surroundings. Plain as day, someone behind you shouts your name. You rip your headphones out and whip around to see Harry waving at you from his window.

“Hey! You wanna come up for breakfast?”

Your feet are firmly planted to the sidewalk, much like they were about an hour ago when you stood in the same spot and ogled this man.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, and pathetically jabbed your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “Actually I… I-I was gonna-”

“I’ve got coffee from Trieste,” he says in a sing-song tone.

You internally roll your eyes and curse him for knowing that you can never deny coffee from your favorite place in town. Plus, wracking your brain for a good excuse to be on your way is becoming difficult due to the hunger pains starting up in your stomach. That bowl of cereal is only holding you over for so long.

You look up at his dimpled face and relax your shoulders, “Okay, yeah. Yeah I’ll come up.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you!” is the last thing you hear before he shuts his window and you make your way to the stairs.

You climb up to the second story and turn down his hallway. When you’re standing in front of his door, you can hear music playing.

You open the door and you’re met with the sounds of trumpets. Harry has Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” playing on his record player. He has it just loud enough to where it won’t annoy any of his neighbors, but it still fills every corner of the living room. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into a similar scene here. You know this to be one of his favorite songs to play in the morning.

You close the door behind you and take in the state of the room as you walk through. The instrument cases are a little more organized than they had been yesterday. Smaller ones are stacked up next to his workstation and the larger ones are stacked up in the corner next to his couch. His laptop sits open on the coffee table and a haphazard stack of blank paper repair tags sat next to it.

The camera bag on your shoulder is now starting to feel heavy, so you plop down on the couch. Your ears perk up at the sound of Harry singing along with the record from the kitchen.

“You can have an aeroplane flyin’. If you bring your blue sky back.”

Following the smell of coffee, you walk over to the doorway of the small kitchen. Harry is  standing at the counter. Thankfully he is not wearing the outfit that you saw him in earlier. He’s wearing brown trousers and a cream colored flannel with black and green stripes. He also has on his signature pair of scuffed up black vans.

There is a small table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen next to the window with a vase of sunflowers and a couple of books sitting on it. You walk over to the table to inspect the books more closely. Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton & John Armstrong and The Course of Love, also by Alain de Botton. Before you get the chance to flip them over and read the descriptions, Harry clears his throat.

“Coffee’s ready.” He sets the kettle down on the counter and dances his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his mugs.

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face, admiring his ability to always be so energetic in the mornings.

He takes the filter out of the chemex and chunks it in the trash before pouring the coffee into two mugs. The way he turns with a mug in each hand, extending one to you, is extremely reminiscent of last night. After you take the mug from his hands, he scoots past you into the living room. The volume of the music lowers to a faint background noise before he appears again in the kitchen.

“So,” he pauses to reach into the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it on the counter, “what are you doing up so early? Figured you’d be in bed till noon. Seemed pretty exhausted last night.” He takes a long sip of coffee, waiting for your response.

Suddenly you’re doing everything to not look in his direction. Your eyes are shifting from the table to the flowers to the mug in your hands.

“Um… yeah I woke up at like 5:30 for some reason and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I just decided to take a walk with my camera.” Your last few words echo from your mug before you take a big sip.

Harry clicks his tongue. “M’ sorry, that sucks. Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You involuntarily gasp at his question, causing the coffee to go directly down the wrong pipe. Several harsh coughs erupt from your chest.

Harry acts quickly, muttering a quick “shit” before taking the cup from your hand and setting it on the table along with his. He steps behind you and you hear a chair scoot out from the table. His hands gently wrap around your upper arms, prompting you to have a seat. You fold over in the chair, gripping the edge of the table for stability. After a few more strong coughs, you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Harry’s fingertips rubbing soothing circles on your back sends electricity up and down your spine.

His hand slides off of your back as he steps away from you, “Alright? Want some water?” He’s already walking over to his cabinet and pulling out a glass before you respond.

Once you clear your throat, you croak out, “Yeah I’m fine, that’s fine.”

He sets the glass on the table in front of you, turns back to the carton of eggs on the counter and starts cracking some into a pan.

After taking some sips of your water, you say, “So I was going to ask you the same question. What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, funny enough, I also had to wake up around 5:30. I’ve got a client coming to pick up her trumpet this morning and I had to get everything sorted and clean up a bit before she got here.”

Nodding your head, you tease, “Oh yeah, it looks really good in there. Was starting to forget what your floor looked like.”

Your heart leaps at the sound of Harry’s belly laugh. “Wow. Wowwwwww. Already giving me a hard time. At this hour. Jesus.”

You laugh at his exaggerated reaction while he simply shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the front door. Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Must be her, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do those?” You stand up from your spot at the table and gesture to the pan.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he exits the kitchen.

A moment later, you hear the sound of a woman’s voice greeting Harry. It sounds like they’re just standing in his entryway because you can’t really make out what either of them are saying.

Meanwhile, you go about scrambling eggs, making toast, and getting out plates and silverware. By the time Harry is back in the kitchen, you’re already starting to put everything on the table.

You pick up the books from the table and hold them up to Harry, “Where do you want these?”

“Oh uh, I’ll just put those on the coffee table.” When you hand them off to him, he holds up the copy of Art as Therapy. “This one’s for you though, make sure you take it with you today.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Just thought it looked like something you would enjoy. Saw it when I was looking for this other one.” He holds up The Course of Love.

Before you could say anything, he’s disappeared again into the living room.

Once you’re both sitting at the table and digging into your breakfast, Harry asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

You squint your eyes at him. “I mean, I don’t really have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

“Well that client that was just here offered me two free tickets to her jazz band’s show tonight as, like, an extra ‘thank you’.” He shrugs, “Might be fun to go to.”

With a straight face, you reply, “I can’t, I’m booked tonight.”

You stare at each other for a minute in silence trying not to crack a smile, until you both start snorting.

“I know you’re free because the bar is closed and Sarah is still sick.” Harry tosses his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair like he’s just won an argument.

You mirror him by crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “What if I have plans with Mitch? Sarah’s boyfriend?”

Harry furrows his brows and looks at you, baffled, “I know who Mitch is, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Because I knew it would throw you off.”

“Alright, I’ll just take Mitch to the concert then.”

You drop your jaw and lightly kick his leg under the table. “What time is this concert?” You ask, slipping out of your teasing tone.

“It’s at seven.” Harry leans forward and lifts his coffee from the table, holding it up to you.

You grab yours from the table and clink it with his before finishing off the remainder of your coffee.

***********************

Back at your apartment, you’re leaning back in your chair at the desk in your living room, waiting for your pictures from today to upload on your computer. Your hands run over the smooth blue and green cover of Art as Therapy. In the few years that you have known Harry, you’ve swapped countless book recommendations back and forth, and the bookshelves in your apartments are constantly changing due to all of the borrowing you both do. You’ve even gotten each other books for birthdays and other holidays. This is the first book that he has bought for you completely unprompted. You hadn’t even heard of the author until today, so it’s not like he heard you mention in passing wanting to read his books.

You flip the book over and read the description, then flip to the first few pages to see a statement about the authors. “Their proposal is that certain great works of art offer clues on managing the tensions and confusions of everyday life and that, approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.”

Quickly shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you check the progress on your photos. Approximately 20 minutes remaining.

You huff, slap the book closed, and toss it on the desk before getting up and walking to your room. There’s an old shoe box on one of your shelves that you like to go through when you’re feeling sad or having a weird day, which feels about right at this moment.

You plop down on your bed and set the box in front of you, opening up the lid. The rush of nostalgia and warmth that comes over you when going through this box is overwhelming sometimes. It’s filled with miscellaneous photos that you’ve taken on your film camera over the past few years. There are some that capture your favorite buildings and murals throughout the city. There are a lot from when you went to the pride celebrations last year. The majority of the pictures in the box capture candid moments of your friends and family. These kinds of pictures are the ones that remind you of why you love photography so much and even after getting high marks on your work for the institute, these are the ones that you end up feeling the most proud of.

You see your friends from out of state standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge from the time they paid you a surprise visit. Another one shows your cousin at his college graduation. There’s one of your friend and coworker, Sarah, and her boyfriend Mitch from the day you and Harry helped them move into their new apartment, proudly holding up the keys, smiling from ear to ear.

And then there’s quite a lot of Harry. Harry playing pool at a bar across town, Harry at the beach tossing a football with Mitch, a kind of blurry one of him going crazy at an Ariana Grande concert. You laugh out loud when you find the one of him proudly wearing your dress during a drunken game of truth or dare, and the one of him making a ‘kissy’ face at you in those obnoxious Gucci sunglasses that he wore for pretty much an entire summer. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve experienced together until you go back and look at these pictures.

You’ve been flipping through them pretty quickly, but you come across one that makes you freeze. It’s from your friend’s birthday party a few months ago. You got someone to take a picture of yourself with Sarah and Mitch, but Harry decided to jump in. In the picture, Mitch is in the middle of you and Sarah, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Harry has his arms hugged tight around your middle and his cheek is pressed to yours. It could be seen as a form of affection, if his face wasn’t covered in icing from your friend’s birthday cake. The photo is perfectly timed to capture everyone’s shocked laughter.

Just by looking at this photo again, you can feel his smile against your cheek and his arms holding you close. It’s a feeling you’ve been wanting more of ever since that night. Maybe that’s the ‘intimate question’ you’ve been asking yourself- Do you really want more with Harry?

**April 26th, 2020. 6:58pm**

You’re sure nobody on the street could miss you and Harry. After saying quick ‘thank you’s to the uber driver, you grab hands and start jogging toward the entrance of the SFJAZZ Center- a three story building with windows wrapping all the way around. The show is supposed to start in two minutes. You would have arrived much earlier if Harry hadn’t left the tickets on his kitchen table. You’re both dodging and weaving through people on the sidewalk, you in your favorite floral dress and Harry in a bold green suit jacket.

Once in the lobby, you both reduce your pace to a brisk walk and you readjust the bag on your shoulder. Harry’s hand is still holding yours as you’re both scanning the lobby for the right place to go. You spot a couple of employees closing doors labeled ‘main hall seating’.

“Over here,” you say, pulling Harry along with you.

Luckily, you’re able to catch the ushers in time to show them your tickets and be let in. The expansive auditorium is filled with the sound of chattering people and musicians warming up their instruments.

Thankfully, your seats are in a row toward the back and to the left of the stage, so you don’t have to make too big of a scene when scooting past people. Right when you settle in, the house lights dim, the chatter rapidly dies down, and the band on the stage goes silent.

The lull is soon replaced with applause when a woman walks out and stands center stage. She introduces herself as the director of programming and welcomes the audience. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your support means so much to this center as we continue to make music and art and do what we love to do.” She pauses to hold up a booklet in her hands. “As you may have seen in your program, tonight’s performance is a special one.”

For the first time, you glance around the room and notice almost everyone but you and Harry has a program in their lap or held in their hands.

The woman on stage continues. “Some of you may know this, and some of you may not, but April is the birth month of American jazz singer, Billie Holiday. So, to honor her legacy, this lovely band sitting behind me has put together arrangements of some of her greatest hits.” Applause fills the room once again.

“Some of the performances tonight will feature vocalists and some will be done with the band only, so I hope everyone will find something they enjoy. Now, without further ado, I present to you A Little Love, with Billie Holiday.”

There is applause for a third time, but your hands are suddenly too heavy in your lap to join in. As the director exits the stage and another woman, presumably the vocalist, takes her place, your mind is reeling at the situation you’re currently in. How have you wound up at a jazz concert dedicated to love, that you decided to attend on a whim, with your best friend that you suddenly have overwhelming feelings for?

All of the subtle signs and notions of feelings you have had over the years have turned into blaring alarms, and they’re all pointing to one person. The man sitting right next to you, who is also sitting stock still in his seat.

There’s a drumroll from the stage followed by a light and smooth saxophone solo that brings you back into the moment. The vocalist begins the captivating first verse of Billie Holiday’s You Go to My Head.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You slowly sink about three inches down into your seat. You wish you had a program now so that you could at least use it to fan your face. You reach your hand up to dab at your forehead.

At the same time Harry takes a deep breath and lightly trills his lips while itching the bridge of his nose.

The vocalist continues to sing the lyrics that are hitting you directly in the gut.

The thrill of the thought

That you might give a thought to my plea

Casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself “Get a hold of yourself”

Can’t you see that it never can be

You glance around the auditorium as much as you can without turning your head in Harry’s direction, wondering if anyone else is feeling the temperature rise or the tension that seems to be wrapped around the both of you.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine

Hasn’t the ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Your mind is reeling yet again at the situation you’re in. This must be some kind of elaborate prank that the universe is pulling on you. You’re half expecting a spotlight to fall on you and Harry that nobody in the room would even question.

The feeling doesn’t lift as the concert goes on. Soulful songs about a lover’s eyes, falling in love, how easy it is to live when you’re in love. Even where there is not a vocalist, you seem to know what the songs are implying.

Something that comes up in your rapid stream of thoughts is the author’s note you read earlier, “approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.” You ask yourself the question again: Do you want more with Harry?

You think about the pictures of the times you’ve spent together. Crazy shifts at the bar, days in the park, breakfasts, dinners, late nights staying up talking about god knows what. You know the answer. You’ve always known the answer.

It seems like your heart has caught up with your thoughts, because it’s pounding in your chest.

Halfway through the final song of the night, you decide to steal a glance at Harry. Slowly turning your head, you peek through the corner of your eye.

A quick jolt of electricity runs through your entire body when you see that Harry already has his eyes on you. You turn your head back to the stage, but you can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

When thunderous applause breaks out after the final song, Harry turns his head back to the stage as you both limply clap along with the audience.

******************

This is the most quiet car ride of your life. There isn’t even any music being played in the background. The only words that have been exchanged between you and Harry since the concert ended were when he asked you if it was okay for the uber to just drop you both at your building and you answered with a simple ‘sure’.

There are so many feelings swirling around in you that you don’t know what to do with, and you definitely don’t want all of them to spill out in this stranger’s car, so you keep your jaw clenched as you look out of the window.

The car comes to a stop outside of your building and you both mutter ‘thank you’s as you climb out. You both silently make your way through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway to your door.

Just last night you were making the same trip. You were making light jokes about wanting to steal Harry’s jacket and he was joking back, accusing you of wanting him to freeze to death. You had to remind each other not to laugh so loud so you wouldn’t disturb anyone. Now the only sound in the hallway is your shoes on the floor.

Once you reach your door, you open your bag and start digging for your keys. “Thanks, um, thanks for inviting me. It was a really good show.” You find your keys and push them into the lock before turning your eyes to Harry.

He has one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Yeah it was... it was fun. Glad you could come with me.” He moves his hands from their places and awkwardly moves his arms out for a hug.

You smile and let out a sharp exhale through your nose at the awkwardness of this whole situation, but you gladly reciprocate the hug. Your arms completely wrap around each other, your hands tightly gripping his jacket. You can smell his cologne, like ginger and honey and cedar, and it’s making your head spin. You embrace for a few seconds and then release each other.

Harry sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps to turn away.

You turn the key in the lock, then turn your head to watch Harry take his first few steps away from you. You don’t want him to get any further.

“Harry?”

He stops and turns around to face you. “Yeah?”

You cannot believe the question that’s coming to your mind, but it’s the only thing that’s been coherent enough to put into words. You gulp and take a deep breath before asking, “Do you… do you still wish you could kiss me?”

You watch about three different emotions pass across Harry’s face. His mouth opens, his head tilts to the side, then his mouth closes and his eyes shift to the floor.

You feel a flood of regret. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. That was stupid. He doesn’t remember. Just play it off.

You know your face is flushed with embarrassment as you speak softly, “I’m sorry. I just. That night that you were really drunk and I brought you back here, you said that you wish- that you wished y-”

Hearing Harry say your name stops your rambling. “Don’t be sorry. I know what I said.” He’s eyeing you cautiously and taking a couple of steps toward you again. “And… yeah. I still wish I could kiss you. Felt that way for… a while now.”

Tears are brimming your eyes as you look into his, trying to absorb what he’s just said. Then it’s almost like the floor beneath you tilts in his direction, nudging you to move forward until you’re standing directly in front of him. You can smell his cologne again.

With your eyes still locked into his, you slowly raise your hands to place them on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper, “I wish I could kiss you, too.”

Harry gulps and shifts his eyes down to your lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose before you feel his hand lightly grip your waist and his other hand takes a similar position on your neck.

You both stand there for a few breaths, eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

You start to lean in and then stop about half way and close your eyes. You’re both just waiting to see who will close the gap.

After a moment, you feel Harry’s grip on your neck and waist tighten and you feel him leaning in. Then his lips are on yours. They’re on yours again and again. You tilt your heads to deepen the kisses and he takes a step toward you. You follow his lead until your back is pressed against your door.

As much as it pains you to do so, you have to stop so you can catch your breath. You reach one of your hands into his hair and lightly pull him away. Both of you are breathing  in sync.

Once your breathing is evened out, you lock eyes with Harry. Your heart flutters when you exchange shy but knowing smiles and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

After clearing your throat, you move your hand to your door knob. “Do you want to come in?”

Harry glances at your hand then returns his eyes to yours. He purses his lips and takes a sharp breath in. “I just want to know what you want.”

What just happened a few seconds ago already seems monumental to you. After the emotional roller coaster of this day, you’re not sure whether or not you’re ready for more tonight.

You take your hand from the doorknob and run it along his shoulder to return it to its previous position on his neck. “Honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted from today.” You watch as Harry nods his head in understanding. “I think all I want tonight is to hold you,” you notice the softness in his eyes, the same softness that you noticed for a fleeting second in the bar last night. “And keep kissing you.” This makes a lopsided smirk pop onto his face. “And I want to talk in the morning. About us.”

Harry leans in and presses a sweet peck to your lips. “I think we can do that.”

*******************

If anyone would have told you that your day was going to end with you and Harry in your bed, your head on his chest, and him running his fingers soothingly over your back, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Harry?” you say softly, just as your eyelids are starting to get heavy.

His fingers stop for a moment, “Yeah?”

Thinking over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, you start to erupt into sleepy giggles. “Did you know that the performance was gonna be,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “that?”

Harry lets out a deep belly laugh and when you glance up at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have planned that if I tried.”

Before you know it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, recounting the insane timing of the whole situation.

Harry rolls to his side so that he’s facing you and places a lingering kiss on your lips. “I’ll have to tell that client that any repairs she wants are on the house now.”

You throw your head back laughing and he pulls you into his chest, smothering your neck with kisses before resting his chin on top of your head.

If this is all you could have for the rest of your life, just a little love from each other, you would never want anything more.

************************************************************

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#pypfc #writing #a little love #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #alcohol tw

[rounove]

Shyan Fan fic Recommendation

Anon I want to kiss you right now. I have been waiting for this question for years

Batch 1

*All | orphan_account

Ryan's got an itch only Shane can scratch.

*"Come over here and make me." | aldhafera 

“Shane, stop that this instant!” “Come over here and make me.” In which Ryan fears something followed them home and Shane just wants to give the (definitely non-existent) ghosts a show. 

Por Favor, Sweetheart |  carrieonfighting

Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

(This one’s so domestic I think I melted)

the choices we make |  exul

Shane and Ryan find themselves in a world where much is the same, yet everything is different. An apartment that's theirs, but not theirs. Photos of them that were never taken. And most importantly a child, who's somehow theirs, yet they've never seen her before. or Shane and Ryan wake up in a world where they're married and have a baby. 

and then there were two (idiots) |  sessrumnir

Shane kisses Ryan by accident one day. A week later they are still trying to process what happened. 

*Body Farming |  shiphitsthefan

Failed suppressants and a surprise heat: the worst of cliches, and here Ryan stands, living the trope on location with the alpha he’s hopelessly in love with. Even worse, they’re spending the night in the famous Bell Witch Cave, completely alone and with no way to contact the outside world.

Ryan knows he can survive and keep his preheat a secret, as long as Shane will stop being so protective and concerned. After all, it’s not like Shane wants to bond with him.

Right?

*breathe out so i can breathe you in |  trxshmxuth

They've been tiptoeing around each other for months now, walking on ice so thin that Ryan can practically see the sexual tension swirling and raging underneath. Ryan's almost afraid that when the ice finally cracks, he's not going to be able to resurface again.On their next Unsolved investigation, the ice breaks.

eventually, the darkness stares back |  EAST (WESTAGE)

Shane realizes he likes Ryan exactly the way he is: alive. 

Four Down, One to Go |  sunshinewinchesters

Ryan is sick and Shane is having a really shitty week. 

*Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better |  beethechange

Ryan stops short in the doorway of his bedroom, banging his shoulder against the doorframe in his haste, because he’s too late. Shane’s kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his bedside table, peering down at the contents, hand frozen in a hover like he’d been about to reach in. His face is a blank mask.

“Ah. I keep the batteries in the top drawer. Not. Not the bottom one.”

“Yes,” Shane says, cocking his head to the left in puzzlement, and then he pauses for a fraction of a second too long as he considers his words. “I can see that the batteries are not in the bottom drawer.”

*How Deep (Is Your Love) |  touchinghearts

The last thing Shane expects when he exits the bathroom is for his boyfriend to appear out of fucking nowhere, pin him against the wall, and swallow his cock down in the open hallway of a hotel. 

It's a love/hate kind of thing. |  heyghouls

Shane is an executive producer at BuzzFeed and Ryan is his intern. It's not love at first sight for the boys, but will they finally see eye to eye when they realize they have more in common than they thought? Shane is an introvert who finds it hard to let people in, and Ryan is a cute loving boy who just wants to figure the guy out. 

Just Out of Reach |  formosus_iniquis  

A variation on the "I asked for your help getting a book off the top shelf and and you laughed at my taste and called me a nerd so I shoved you into a table of nonfiction best-sellers and that’s how we both got banned from the quirky community bookstore" prompt 

keep you like an oath |  spoopyy

"I'm in love with you," Ryan says, desperate."No, you're in love with the views."

kiss me like you mean it |  rocketshiptospace

“Hi,” Tall man says, taking in the sight in front of him. “I’m sorry, I heard banging and yelling and I just, are you okay?”

“No. Yes. Maybe,” Ryan says, slowly standing back up on two legs again. “My door won’t open.” He eventually ads, when him and Tall man have just stared at each other for a few seconds.

“That’s unfortunate,” Tall man says, smiling at him. He has a really nice smile. “But it happens. It’s an old building, you know. Doors get stuck sometime. Here, let me try,” He steps past Ryan, and places his hand on the door handle. The door swings open like it’s nothing.

or, Ryan's apartment building plays matchmaker.

*Muscles Better and Nerves More |  beethechange

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way. 

the calm before crescendo |  abovetheruins

Alternate title: 5 times Shane Madej was flustered by Ryan Bergara, and 1 time he finally did something about it. 

*The Desk Fic |  SincerelyLeah

Shane was having a shitty Monday morning and it was all because of one person, Ryan Bergara. But, by now he should know that endless teasing gets Shane more than riled up. 

Things That Go Bump in the Night (and 7 till 12 at weekends) |   HoopyFrood

Shane works at a Haunted House. Ryan is Ryan. Things go about as well as you'd imagine. 

Tranquility Base |  sessrumnir

After their successful Sims series, Kelsey has a different video proposal for the boys. This time, they're testing how fast gossip travels in the office. But Ryan doesn't expect their relationship to change so fast because of it. 

*wasted on you |  cursingcursive (queenradi)

there's a reason shane loves when ryan wears his clothes. 

Weird |  Helsabot

One night, the stack of pillows between them becomes one stack too many. “Let me— let me hit you with a thought. A theory.” “A postulation?” “Sure. Let me postulate at you.” “Postulate away, baby.”

You Make Me Glow |  sohapppily

Whenever they were on their ghoul excursions, Shane always had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue and a twisted smirk to shoot at Ryan’s terror. He was mostly the same way in their unrecorded life, but they played up the banter for the sake of The Boys. Although it was a welcome respite for Ryan, seeing Shane in these settings with nothing but sleep on his features never failed to be a bit jarring.

Ryan couldn’t look away.

lightning in a bottle |  LexTheMoose

Love is slow-dancing on the balcony of a house party at 11 PM. 

meet me halfway |  poetdameron

In a world where everything changed over the night, Ryan and Shane's minds connect miles away, making Shane the man of Ryan's dreams. Literally. 

Batch 2

*And they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) |  Squeakyshroom

All my notes said on this one was “this is pure sex jesus”

2:10 to Wellton |  quackers

and i'm puffing my chest, getting red in the face |  pissedofsandwich

Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis |   MiraclesofPaul

*BFFS Get Married For A Week - Ryan and Shane |  aspookycryptidsock

distorted truths |  hwsinbs

*Everything's Weird and We're Always in Danger |   beethechange

hammer me to the cross of my despair |   heartchains

I Think the Ghost Likes You |   cactsu

*I’ve Kissed You Before, but I Didn’t Do It Right (Can I Try Again) |   beethechange

if i should fall |  abovetheruins

*Just The Facts |   millyvanilly (miloisnothere)

*Out of Control with Ryan |  beethechange

*Pushing All Your Buttons |  beethechange

satisfaction brought it back |  ElasticElla

Short Stack |  Anonymous

*Thank you, Satan |  Squeakyshroom

The Chain |  Lafayette1777

Rough water |  heyghouls

Batch 3

The Thrilling Gardner Museum Heist |  orphan_account

One in Five Billion |  punk_rock_yuppie

a short history of almost something |  cooliohoolio

*A Suspicion of Feelings |  beethechange

I Will Be the Sun, I Will Wake You Up |  sohapppily

*ready if it happens with you |  sarcasticfishes

*The Denial Twist |  beethechange

The Bizarre Road Trip Of A Missing Family |  icantwritegood

Beautiful Crime |  orphan_account

The Odd Death of Michelle Von Emster |  icantwritegood

won't you ride on my fast machine? |  ElasticElla 

Batch 4

*Breathe |  quackers

*The Hunger |  poetdameron

Black Sun |  quackers

contrapposto |  spoopyy

(Let me tell you that I never liked major character death but I accidentally read this one without reading the warning and YOO I am a fan of major character death now. This was beautifully written!)

darling it's a faded notion |  varnes

(This was the very first shyan fic I’ve read and still one of the best one’s)

*Full-Court Press |  beethechange

(I remember this one oh my god this has jersey kink in it and I didn’t even know what it means until I read this and it awaken something in me. This writer I swear to god. They could write Ryan and Shane fucking in a hot dog costume on top of the mountains and I’d still be into it.)

*Ryan Number One |  quackers

(THIS has everything I want and didn’t know I needed. This is hot this is sexy. Five star porn right here.)

theft by finding |  varnes 

*Wicked Game |  quackers

(This is my favorite. This ruined me in so many ways and I got so affected and shaken up that I can’t draw anything for months. I have been to so many fandoms and read hundreds of fics but nothing has fucked me up like this. I have to switch to a different fandom because I am having the longest art block ever because I keep thinking about this fic. I am not exaggerating I swear if you see my previous posts there’s quite a gap in my shyan art. And I am saying this in the highest of compliment, this fic changed my life.)

*Translucent |  poetdameron 

*Begin the Begin, Over and Over |  beethechange 

*Let the Sunshine Burn Your Eyes |  YogurtTime 

*Look How Long They Are |  drunkkenobi

*The Disturbing Mystery of the Jamison Family |  icantwritegood

(This one’s fun! I fucking love this one! Lot’s of angry sex. The banter! The banter holy shit hmm!! I don’t want to spoil anymore. It’s dark but it’s funny it’s also hot and sad. This writer loooves angst.)

*Collide |  needywitch 

* - has porn

This got way longer than I thought and I couldn’t even put the summary in some of them but all of these are worth the read. This fandom has so much talented writers that my small monkey brain went fucking bananas on the list. 

#rousponse #shyan fic rec #Anon must be expecting 5-10 fics because it's such a light-hearted ask

[vickers-n-lickers]

Moonlit pt. 3

Trigger Warning: Unaliving thoughts, violence, zombies))

Six rounds left.

He thought about doing it right then and there.

Her first. Then him.

Jill warned him they always come back unless they get a bullet in the head.

Maybe she'd try to eat him if she came back.

I'd… deserve it.

Well, he thought he did.

Her ghost disagreed with the notion from the back of his mind.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Hey Joan, it's Dad. It's about four in the afternoon. I, uh, I accidentally picked up Jenna from the Y. Sorry, I thought it was my night. You can have Brad call off the search. I bet you both have been worried sick. She's up here in Stoneville with me. She and the dog are settled in for the night, I'll drop her off at school first thing in the morning and him at the house. I'm really sorry, Joan. Hey, do give me a call back so I make sure you got this message, okay? Love you, Scooter. Bye."

"Do you remember when you fell in love with me?" Brad asked, a grin crossing his lips when nails drug low along his stomach.

Joan made a thoughtful sound as she lifted her head. Messy strands of brunette were carefully tucked behind an ear. "That's a secret." She giggled when he squinted and scowled suddenly at her.

"Tell me."

Long fingers swept back wild strands. "Nope. Never. Don't you dare do puppy dog eyes. Bradley! That is blackmail. That is a crime, sir!"

Holding in a laugh, he poked out his lower lip to match the mournful lift in his brow. He smiled when she laughed.

"Ugh! You monster. Fine…" Rolling off of him, she nestled into the crook of his arm. "During the last bad blizzard."

Brad blinked, rolling on his side to face her. "That was three years before we started dating."

The woman just shrugged, tracing the line of his collarbone in the dark. "So?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You had so many female admirers, I knew I couldn't compete."

Brad's brows immediately quirked in confusion. "Who?"

"The ladies that work in the records office."

His jaw dropped in horror. "They're in their sixties and I don't appreciate those catcalls every time Wesker sends me down there."

Joan wrinkled her nose, fighting back a snicker. "I bet they all have your sweet recruitment poster on their bedroom ceilings."

"Oh my God, Joan! Why would you put that in my head?" He pulled away when she started cackling.

"I bet they call the number late night hoping you'll answer. 'Is there an oral exam, Brad?'," She squealed with laughter when wagging fingers went for her hips.

"C'mon. Real reason." His smile was so warm and free in the slant of light peeking through the blinds.

It always melted the frost off her spirit. A long sigh escaped, her hand smoothed over his as it ran up her cheek. "The real reason? Because I come with baggage."

He scoffed. "We all do."

She shook her head. "Jack always told me no man would want me with Jenna being on the spectrum and me being a single mother. I…" Her shoulders lifted and dropped. "Part of me believed him, I guess."

Brad was quiet for the longest time. The clock on the nightstand read twelve in glowing red. Unmoving, outside of breath and blinking, he spoke barely above a whisper. "That is the cruelest shit I've ever heard in my life. There's nothing wrong with Jenna. She's a little girl. Nobody can control that. You didn't expect to be Mom and Dad… What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Joan bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. That's Jack. He thinks he has an answer for everything. 'Everyone leaves, Joan. Remember your mother…'"

Brad's stare turned hard as he propped himself up with an elbow. "I'm not fuckin' going anywhere." Short nails ran over where moonlight met her shoulder. "Hey… You know when I fell in love with you?" His lips turned up when she shook her head again. "It was when you said 'I'm Joan'." When her form rose and fell harshly from breath, his arms looped and pulled her fast to him. Kissing away tears, his nose pressed along the side of hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Joan, it's Dad again. It's about nine o'clock. I really hope you have a good reason for not calling me back. The news is a mess so I recon you're still stuck in traffic trying to get home. Before I forget, your brother and his wife are going to be here tomorrow morning so how about you two just come on up for the rest of the week and weekend? Your brother's been jabberin' my ear off about meeting Brad anyway. They can talk shop about helicopters and we'll go fishin'. Love ya, Scooter. Byeeeee!"

The office stunk sterile. Jenna's dirty shoes swung back and forth on the exam table as she waited, expressive gray eyes fixed on the man sitting next to her on a chair. She reached out suddenly, poking at the emblem stitched in blue with white stars on his shoulder. She smiled brightly when he feigned a scowl.

"Alright then, Miss Piper…" Annette's brows lifted as she closed the door behind her. "And who are you?"

Brad was on his feet in a second, offering a hand. "Brad Vickers, Joan is at soundcheck. So, I…" His brows lifted when the blonde woman stepped around him and took a seat at the desk next to the exam table. "…Brought her for shots."

Annette smiled fondly to the girl, fingers looping in the air as she spoke in total silence to the girl.

Jenna's hands suddenly were animated, signing away a response to her doctor.

Brad sat down quietly, watching the two.

Birkin nodded, her stare turning back to the man. "Do you sign at all, Mister Vickers?"

"Still learnin'… What did she say?"

A nail scratched along one of her brows as she began to take down some notes. "She said you're her dad and you fly airplanes."

Soft brown eyes lifted up to the little one on the table. A smile drew itself across his mouth as she fiddled with the buttons on her coat.

A clean needle appeared when the cap was removed, quickly jabbed into a vial of clear liquid. The Umbrella symbol stenciled in red the only color to show.

Brows lifting, the man offered a hand to the young girl. Fingers gently gripping, his stare met her spooked one as Annette prepared.

"Just gonna be a little pinch, sweetie…"

He frowned when Jenna winced one eye totally shut.

"One more and we'll call it a day. Good girl. You're so brave," Annette cooed, a Barbie sticker soon in Jenna's hands. Her stare turned to Brad. "Tell her mother she's due for one last booster in six weeks and I'll get the referral she needs in the mail tomorrow."

Brad nodded, pulling his coat back on. "I'll let her know."

They were almost out of the exam room when Annette called out. "Have you gotten your flu shot yet this year, Mister Vickers?"

Brad's eyes went wide.

Back in the room.

Jenna looked from her new sticker still on its sheet up to the man sitting on the exam table.

Brad just pursed his lips, letting his air out when Annette returned with the vaccine.

"Alright, your turn."

Jenna offered her tiny hand to hold onto.

Annette couldn't hide her chuckle at the pair.

Jenna was still smiling at her two bright pink stickers when they arrived back home.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Scooter, it's Dad. It's about six-forty in the mornin'. Your brother just got in. I am assuming you and Brad went home and just crashed out. Please call me back, I don't think Jenna needs to go back to school today. The girls are here. How about I just call the school at eight and she play hooky so she can see her cousins? I heard helicopters flying earlier. What in the world happened last night? Call me, girl. Bye!"

The phone clicked back on the receiver as Jack turned away. "I swear that girl gives me more gray hair every day. Lookin' for the coffee, Son?"

Henry shook his head as he opened another cabinet. "Creamer?"

"It's in the pantry." Fingers running over thinning hair, Jack forced a smile as his daughter-in-law stepped around the corner. "Hey stranger, been a while." His arms opened as the curly haired blonde wrapped hers around him. "Mmmm! I missed you two. How's Seattle?"

"Cold, wet… I love it up there." Michelle replied, smiling as two little bodies pushed their way between her and their grandpa. "Girls, take your bags upstairs before harassing your grandpa." Their whines only made her smile wider. "We're going fishing later, hurry up!"

"Yeah, girls… Jenna is up there so keep it down, okay?" Jack let out a sigh as the two were out of sight. "It ain't like Joan to not answer me. Somethings off."

"Who knows, Dad. Scooter isn't the sharpest tool in the shed all the time," Henry said with a shrug, stirring dried creamer into his coffee.

"They might have realized they were baby free for a night and decided to start making the next one," Michelle replied, a wry grin on her face as her brows popped.

Henry feigned a gag. "Gross."

Jack let out a sigh. "For once in my life, I hope that's the case. Maybe I'll have a grandson next year and we'll all have a laugh at this."

Both smiled at the man seated at the kitchen table.

A bright flash suddenly filled all of the windows, and a minute later the entire house violently shook.

Henry slammed the car door behind him, ball cap fished from the back of his belt and slung low over his eyes as he strode in the direction of the red tinted sky. "Stay in the car, Dad. I got this."

"You sure?"

"It's fine. Stay in the car. I'll find out what's going on." So much screaming, so many people bumping into him as they fled down the narrow paths between cars. It was total chaos.

What the fuck is going on?

He managed to make his way toward the crowd gathered at the roadblocks. He hung back, eyes veering over the many armed forms behind the barriers.

"My husband is still in the city! When will we be let in?"

"I have to get home!"

"What was that explosion? Was that a missile?"

Ducking through the crowd, he made his way toward the end of the barrier. Green eyes clicked their stare from one body to another. From the guy smoking, to another checking his gear, his eyes narrowed as he frowned.

He was fastening his seatbelt as soon as the door to the car was shut. "Drive, Dad. We gotta go."

"What about Joan?"

"Dad, just drive. Let's get out of here before we're pinned in. You're clear still." He took a look over his shoulder to the rear window.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"Just get the car turned around! C'mon, Dad." He let out a sigh as the wheel cranked and the car was thrown into drive. "You're right, something is really wrong."

"What? What are you talkin' about?"

"None of those guys have flags on their shoulders. No unit patches. Nothin'. No name tape, no Army over their hearts. One guy had a grenade launcher out and was smoking."

"What does that mean, Henry?"

The pilot just shook his head. "I don't know. They're not Army though, Dad. They want us to think they are though..."

Jack looked frantic behind the wheel. "Maybe we should check the other roads going in? We have to be able to get in somewhere."

Henry shook his head. "No, no. The reporter back there said the city had been hit with a missiles."

"What? Oh my God…"

The raven haired man choked back tears, blinking them away as the car swerved. "Let me drive, Dad."

"He hasn't been home much since the riots began," Joan said quietly. Wrapped up in a housecoat, she coughed harshly into her elbow. "I uh… I don't know what to tell you, Jill. We don't talk anymore. He's hellbent on keeping his job. I don't think he understands how close I am to leaving him."

"I'm sorry things are rough," Jill replied, the coffee in her cup cold when she took a sip.

"If Forest where here…." The woman bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "God, ever since they were killed it's like he died with them. You know? He's not soft and gentle anymore. He's just… he's just dead but walking around."

Jill grimaced at the thought. "I don't really need to talk to Brad. I wanted to ask you about when you worked for Umbrella. What did you do for them?"

"I uh… I was told I was guarding these massive coolers full of vaccines that required being at a low temperature at all times. Then, well before he died, Albert sent me a disc with instructions to look at it if anything happened to him." She wiped at her eyes, red and swollen. "Those monsters you told us about? I was guarding something like them. He had manifests and notes that said exactly what was in the coolers. There were pictures…" Her thumbs brushed over the side of her mug.

Jill's eyes were enormous.

Her voice was flat, emptied out and hollow. "Did you know most of those things used to be human? They were humans and I helped them take those poor people… Jesus Christ…" She couldn't help but weep, a dish towel used to wipe it all away.

"Joan do you still have the disc?"

The woman nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah you can have it."

"It's going to be fine. The military is outside of the city. Help is here, Joan."

"That's bullshit and you know it! We're locked down. There's a curfew, there are more reports of people being attacked. I heard it on the radio!"

"Just drunks, Joan."

"No Brad! We both know that's not what's happening. We should have left town already."

Anger finally beat down the last wall he had, and it would be taken out on her. "If you want to leave, go ahead! I'm not going. My life is here. I might be able to sleep at home for once instead of at my fuckin' desk! I'm tired of this bullshit, Joan!"

"It's all bullshit, huh? Our friends are dead, Brad! They're all dead! That's not bullshit," her voice wavered. "I can't believe you sided with the prick who not only canned me, but is trying to lie about how all of your friends died!"

"It's your own fucking fault you got canned! If you hadn't been such a fuckin' idiot you'd still have a decent job!"

Her eyes were enormous at that, shoulders then squared… then predatory. A panther in the brush, she looked ready to rip him apart.

He looked ready to make a mistake as soon as she did.

The moment passed.

Joan took what dignity she still had and left.

A hand went to the pocket on his vest.

The ring went back on Joan's hand.

He couldn't bear the idea of another hand having it.

He locked the doors and made his way out the back. The alley was empty.

Uptown was the next stop. He was getting the fuck out of town by the end of the night.

She hadn't asked him to be brave.

She had asked him to survive.

#tw sucidal ideation #death tw