#and hes willing to be the one that gets slammed by a kid online if shes willing to learn and she is! just slowly

[moeblob]

for my fake mmo plot here take my beloved two grown men and their online daughter who doesnt have tact (they try to teach her how to be nice online and unfortunately it's not going super well)

Mister Delta - a mage in game who really enjoys PvP and is a high ranker. He's a teacher irl and his last name is Change so he made a stupid chemistry joke for a username.

Lord Kappa - wanted to be King Kappa but it was taken so he's just vibing with a different honorific. Is a chef irl. Has a very big crush on Delta.

Little Lambda - the actual teenager (like baby teen, 13/14 or something) who doesn't really have friends in school. Mostly interacts with her dad irl who calls her "little lamb" and when she realized it was taken online, she googled "words that start with lamb" and went with lambda with no further research. Has zero online etiquette but she's working on it..... kinda.

(her apology was "I'm sorry that you're gay and didn't want people to know" and so Kappa was like "great thank you for this apology." and now he's like WELP my crush knows I'm gay now but we're online so it's fine and nothing will come from this and it's fine)

[obsessedwrhys]

The Seven and The Boys with forced supe reader(like Billy’s little sister as revenge for billy and the boys constantly causing problems)

Rouge powers reader————powers turn on and off randomly

can absorb life forces and powers(which they can steal(albeit accidentally))

Very stubborn and sarcastic just like her brother

Home lander is probably extra yandere for tons of reasons and keeps the reader in a glass room(enclosure or whatever)(think a zoo exhibit or big aquarium tank without water—— that one room from You or the glass apartment In Supernova for the kid with the same sort of powers)so that he can see his pet/prize/whatever tf he plans to do with them

-🌑

I keep seeing this as a full blown fic in my mind but I don’t have the skills to pull it off so I’d like to see other people’s takes on the idea!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader

ᯓ★ I read your req and I'm intrigued so this is my attempt on it, hope it meets your expectations. This is like a full on story lol (angst, gore, death, killing, looooots of cursing like I'm not even exaggerating, homelander being homelander, some fluff at the end?)

With your brother's reputation, it's hard to ever live your whole life without the constant need to look over the shoulder. You always liked to tell yourself that after cutting ties with him, it will ensure you your safety, but those words were nothing more than just lies.

Losing Becca changed him completely. You could still recall the last time you spoke to him, the talk regarding your concern escalating into a heated argument.

"I'm telling you! You have no chance against a literal superpowered person! You'll get yourself killed!" You raised your voice, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, but this ain't a life worth livin' for anyways" He brushed your words off like he usually does. You watch in disbelief as he pours himself alcohol.

"Fuck you. You're such an asshole..." You said and he nods at you as he lifts his glass up.

"I'll drink to that" You scoff when he actually drank from his cup, the sound of him sipping ticking you off.

"Okay, fine, get yourself killed! But I won't stand to be here when it happens. I want you out of my life. I never wanna see you. I never even want to hear from you again! You're... you're..." You gasp as you start to sob. He turns to you, nothing but a blank expression on his face.

"Hey... take it easy—"

"No! Don't you fucking tell me to take this shit easy when you just admit to me that you're willing to throw away your life for some blonde american supe! You are a shitty brother! You're just like dad!"

"Don't you fuckin' compare me to that cunt!"

"I fucking said what I said!"

"Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!"

The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen. You could feel your chest rising and falling, your face burning from the overwhelming anger. Butcher sighs at the sight of you as he looks away with his eyes closed.

"You don't know half the things I know sis... you have to understand..."

"No... don't bother telling me. I already know that you'll never change..." You grabbed your things and before he could stop you, you left the house, slamming the door while you were at it.

For the next 8 years, you would find yourself living somehow a happier life. Making friends, going through relationships and heartbreaks, getting multiple jobs to pay for your apartment. It was like an ocean wave since it was never steady but you couldn't deny you've never felt more alive.

However, even on these good days, there were nights you'd find yourself waking up to nightmares. Nightmares of your brother dying. Nightmares of being abandoned. It always left you covered in cold sweats and sometimes you couldn't go back to sleep so you'd just sit by the window or watch some videos online to keep your mind off it.

Even though you convince yourself you were happier.

You never felt secure.

You always felt like something was out to get you.

Especially after you saw the news of him theorised to have killed the senior vice president working at Vought. You couldn't bother to remember her name cause the image of your brother was hauntingly enough. That's when you realised, if they were after him, what if they were also after you?

You stood at the counter of the restaurant you worked at. The job was new as you interviewed for the role of the cashier. Though all these days of dealing with rude customers and having to force a smile is making you want to rethink a different job. Just then, the door to the restaurant opens.

"Welcome!" You said as cheerfully as you can. Instead of searching for a table to sit, the customer approaches you.

"I'm sorry but where's the restroom? I really need to go" The customer spoke, he was wearing an awfully lots of layers, even shades indoors.

"It's just at the back to the right, there's a huge sign, it's hard to miss it" You smiled and the customer stares at you for a while before nodding.

"Thank you"

Finally, he leaves and you couldn't help but be relieved. Why were you holding your breath in the first place? After a couple more hours of standing around and smiling, your shift was done. You did your daily duties and cleaned up the place, making sure it was clean before you leave.

"Bye (Y/N)! Don't forget about our hangout this Friday night!" Your friend spoke as she leaves first.

"Trust me I'm looking forward to it!" You replied before heading to the back of the building to throw the trash away.

You were on your way to the huge bins until you felt the trash bag become lighter. You stare down and was annoyed the second you saw that the bag had tore. It's settled, you're getting a new job after you get your salary. You crouched down and tried to think of ways to solve the issue.

Once you stood up, you felt a sharp pain on your neck. Before you could even do anything to find the source of the pain, you collapsed. The last thing you could feel before becoming unconscious was the touch of someone catching you.

....

"Will it work?"

........

"We've only tested on rats. We're not sure sir"

...........

"Do I have to rephrase? If she dies, you fucking die with her, you understand?"

...............

"Yes sir"

.....................

"Good. Now do what you're only good for, you fucking worthless piece of shit"

...............................

Lights... knives... syringes... you slowly awoke on the floor as faint images of what you would recall as a memory began flashing in your head. Did that happen? It felt real. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of time to register the room you were in.

You were... in a cage?

You looked around, the walls and floors made of white marbles which made it cold when your skin made contact with it. Now that you realised, you were no longer in your uniform, you seemed to be wearing some kind of gown patients would wear for surgery.

"Morning sunshine!" Your body jumped when you heard a familiar voice, a voice you only heard on the tv or radio shows. You stare at him as he walks to the center, a few feet from your cage.

It was Homelander. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face to the person behind the reasons of your brother's rampage.

"Did you rest well?" He asks, an eary grin on his face. You looked around the inside of your glass cage.

"Couldn't you have given me a mattress?" You said. Your concern catching him a bit off guard but he didn't show it.

"Well, we tried to give you something more comfortable to sleep on but it seems like anyone who tried to even touch you ended up well... what's the word for it... withered. Dead. Nothing but a corpse suck dry of it's life" He said but you had no idea what any of his words meant.

"Is this some joke?" He chuckles.

"No. No joke (Y/N). I'm simply just giving my hypothesis on your new powers"

Powers? You have to be high right?

Did whatever pain that you felt was the mark of your death?

Is this some sick twisted illusion of yours created in hell?

"Yeah right... and I'm fucking Beyonce. Would you like to see my collection of Grammys?" You said sarcastically, clearly not taking anything seriously.

Homelander doesn't say anything but just laugh, since you were clearly convinced this was hell and that you were dead, you laughed along with him. He trembles his shoulders as if he's cold, that devilish grin still on his face.

"Wooo! You're a jokester aren't you (Y/N)? I know I'm just gonna love you. How about I bring you a gift as a symbol of our blossoming friendship?" He asked but he had already left the room. Your answer never even needed at all.

As your laughter died down, you were left alone in the room. You felt high. Too realistically high. Were you pumped with drugs? Shit... you grabbed your head as you tried to process the feeling until you heard the sound of a high pitched scream. You turn your head to find it to be your friend from work. She was shoved into the room and right when she stood up to leave, the door was shut.

"Let me the fuck out! You fucking bitch! You promised me weed!" She slammed on the door a couple of times after attempting to twist the doorknob open.

"Cleo?" She turns to you, her masacra ruined from her tears.

"(Y/N)? Holy shit what happened to your hair?" She said and you were confused until you checked to see the front strands of your hair now dyed white.

Okay now what in the actual fuck is happening...

"I don't know...? Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Some fucker promised me weed for some cash. I should have known better when I saw how cheap it was" She sighs as she sits against the door.

Suddenly the glass door on your cage sprung open. The two of you exchanged confused expressions. Is this some kind of trick? You wondered but either way you stepped out from your cage and began to approach your friend. She sighs as she curls up into a ball.

"What the fuck even is this place...?" She asks after you finally sat down beside her. You rubbed her arm to provide some comfort.

"I don't know... this feels real and fake at the same time. Hey, if by any chance we were in a puzzle just like in Saw, how much do you wanna bet who'd win—?" You nudged her playfully but instead of getting a response. She falls over.

Her face was pale white. Eyes dilated. The veins on her body growing visibly purple. The sight left you in shock and you quickly grabbed her by the shoulder to jerk her a few times. No words left her mouth except sounds of gasping, as if the air was getting sucked out of her lungs.

"Cleo! What the fuck! Holy fucking shit!" You cursed and it didn't take long until her body grows limp. Like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin left.

Afraid the same would happen to you, you quickly ran into your cage. You sat at the corner, trying your hardest not to look at your friend. That was real. This isn't some stupid trick set up by Satan. This is fucking real.

But why is this happening?

Why you?

The glass door slammed shut and the noise made your body jump. The door to the room opened but got stuck at the weight of your friend's corpse. You could hear the sound of disgust come from Homelander as he ends up kicking body aside to be able to open the door fully.

"So... did you like my gift?"

"What the fuck did you do? Did you poison her?" You said which he seemed offended at.

"Me? Oh please, I can shoot fucking lasers out of my eyes and I choose to poison some fucking nobody? I mean look at her" He chuckles, his eyes staring at the corpse of what was your friend.

His tone and words growing a small wave of anger within your chest.

"What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want" He said, the smile on his face gone. He was now serious. His gaze cold enough to send shivers down your body.

"(Y/N) Butcher. Butcher. I didn't know he had a little sister" He took a step closer, then another, until he was face to face to the glass, staring down at your figure hiding away in the corner.

"He really doesn't get scared huh? Not afraid of death, to take a life, not even me. And well... since he fucking hates supes so much, then I might as well make his beloved sister one. If I can't strike fear in him, you will" Homelander spoke, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. As if all of this was bringing him some sick enjoyment.

"Everyone will be the pawn and you'll be the queen... so save your strength. You're gonna need it sweetheart" He turned around and as he leaves, he stares at the corpse for a quick moment. Even from inside the cage you could hear him shout for the people working to clean the body.

Fuck... this cannot be your life now...

You're now an animal kept in a cage.

Hours progressed to days then months. The only thing keeping you entertained was... the toilet? Aside from that was the visits Homelander would pay you every now and then to make sure you were alive. It almost seemed like he had expected you to be dead by now but you weren't, which he's impressed about.

You laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. You were bored so you decided to try to count from 1 to 10000 this time. Just as you got to 482, the door opened and you turned to see it wasn't Homelander but rather a worker. Assuming he's just here to clean, you turned back to the ceiling to continue counting.

"Pssh, ma dame, do you hear me?" He knocks on the glass, his french accent caught your attention.

"I don't care. I'm not gonna strip for you"

"Nono! That's not why I'm here, your brother, Billy Butcher? He sent me here" His name striking something in you. You got up as your eyes are slightly widened.

"He knows I'm here?"

"Yes... he's here as well. He's gonna try to get you out of here"

Just as he finishes talking, the glass door sprung open. He gets in the cage and reaches for you but right as you reach for his hand, you remembered you weren't the same anymore, you were cursed, so you quickly pull your hand away. Your action causes the man to tilt his head in confusion.

"Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt you" He tries to take a few steps closer but you quickly stepped back.

"No.... no stop! That's enough!" You raised your hands gesturing him to stand where he's at.

"Don't touch me..." You added and he stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back until he's out of the cage.

"Okay... but you must follow me. We don't have much time left" He said, walking out of the room and you hesitated for a while before following after him.

When walking down the hallway, you couldn't help but look around the area. This was your first time seeing the place you've been trapped inside for supposedly months. As you followed the strange man who saved you, you noticed that he seemed to be talking to someone over his earpiece. Was it Butcher?

After managing to sneak past several guards and having a few close calls, you two finally made it out from one of the back doors. You hurried as you followed the man somewhere. You couldn't believe it. The feel of the wind and the smell of the grass was making you wish you appreciated the outdoor more.

"Were you noticed?" His friend who's been on the look out asked. He shakes his head.

"No" After hearing his reponse, his friend turns to look at you.

"I'm M.M.... C'mon, your brother put in a lot to save you" He began walking away and the two of you simply went along.

He did?

"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Frenchie. It's nice to meet you" The man who saved you earlier said with a smile and you weakly smile back.

The moment the three of you reached a van parked in a safe area. The door slide open and your eyes widened once you were locked eyes with someone familiar. Yet he looked so much different now. He grew a beard. You had to admit, it made him look less ugly.

"(Y/N)..." He got out of the van and was ready to embrace you but you quickly avoided his grasp. This causes him to stand there with his arms hanging there awkwardly.

"Ooookay.... get in" M.M told Frenchie and they did just that, sliding the door close to give you both the privacy.

"All these years and you still hate your ol' brother" He jokes as he drops his hands down to his sides, but it was clear that he was upset at your actions and trying to hide it.

"Don't touch me"

"I got it"

The two of you stood there and you were staring at him a little too hard. Thoughts racing in your head like a racetrack. What the fuck has he been up to these years and how did he even find you?

"So... are we jus' gonna stand here and wait for 'em to realise you're missin'?" He nods at the facility nearby and you sigh.

"You're taking me home" You walked over to the passenger seat but the sound of Butcher clicking his tongue made you stop halfway in your tracks. Now you were standing in front of the van.

"Not gonna happen. Is your head loose of screws sis? They know who you are now, which means they know where you live. You're gonna be stayin' with me" He said.

Shit... there's really no chance of a normal life now. You really are cursed.

"Stay with you? With these guys?" You point at the van and from the front of the vehicle, you could see his friends all huddled in the back, the whole time they've been secretly listening to the conversation but once you pointed at them, they tried to act as though they haven't been doing so.

"They can protect you"

"I don't need protecting. The last thing I need is someone doing that"

"Oh really? Then mind sharing your experience in there? Was it a luxury? How much longer do you think you could have lasted if I hadn't found you" He took a few steps closer and you gave him a warning look.

"You're my sister... you think a few fights is gonna change that?" He tried reaching for your shoulder and you quickly dodged it. Failing to notice, tears were beginning to well up in your eyes because deep inside, you were desperately in need of comfort, a hug, anything physical but you couldn't even have that.

"You can't touch me... nobody can.... f-fuck... I killed my friend just by touching her..." You began to sob, your hands grabbing onto your face in an attempt to hide your expression. A frown appears on his face.

"What the fuck did they do to you...?"

"They made me a freak! They gave me these fucked up powers!! I don't want this...!" You cried, wishing this was another of your nightmares and that none of this was real.

"It's okay... come here..." He began to step closer to you but you were too numb from the feeling to even react.

Taking off his coat, he puts it securely around you before wrapping you in his arms. For the first time in months, you finally felt the presence of another person's embrace. The warmth felt so good. It was like you were melting from it. Your sobs grew weak as you nuzzle onto his chest, the fabric separating the contact of your skin with his. This was everything you needed right now.

"We'll get through this... these powers of yours ain't gonna scare me away" He said, rubbing your back gently.

"Thank you..." You muttered.

After you escaped and made it safely away from your prison. Homelander was alerted of your escape a few hours later. He arrives at the facility, walking down the hallway as the doctors walking by were scared to see him and trying their best to avoid his sight. Once he walks in the office of the head security, the man sprung up almost instinctly.

"Sir" He greets him. Homelander doesn't say anything but stare at him... before breaking into a smile.

"Great job, at least you're good at failing at your job. Now show me" He walks over to the guard's side who's hurrying to click a few things on his computer to show him what he came here for.

"The tracker we planted in her is working well and fine. She's currently in a vehicle heading somewhere"

"Good... it's like sending a cat to a bunch of rats" Homelander then gave the man a strong pat on the shoulder.

"Do we go after them sir?"

"No, keep an eye on her for now. I'll tell you when the time is ready" Without any further discussion, he left the office. A plan already set in his mind.

(I might make a part 2 but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested, it'll be sort of fluff where the boys figure out her powers, some angst? Idk, tell me if you think I should)

[hqnahas]

Mtg octgn image packs

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The ability to 'not get sued' if you make this.

#Mtg octgn image packs for free

So no, a big corporation is not going to hand out a license, even if it isn't making money, for free - again, the rights are not 'if we all put in some cash' kind of money.Īnd even if someone like me got all of the money necessary from winning the lottery or something. They were not interested in promoting their product through a successful card game in the early 2000s when Raw Deal was making good money. (Note that we aren't talking about "Let's take up a collection, everybody chip in!" kind of money here.) However, they do want to MAKE MONEY, and might be willing to share their interests in Raw Deal for a price. They tried with Conan, that flopped, they tried a joint venture on Stargate CCG - they wouldn't even reprint the original set when it sold out everywhere. I haven't talked to Comic Images, but they are absolutely out of the CCG business. ) Since no one would want to PAY just to play Raw Deal Online, this plan fails in stage one. That IS, after all, why people are in business. If you are MAKING MONEY, he will allow it so he can make some money from his design. I've talked to Mike Foley myself, he is interested in allowing the Raw Deal engine to be used IF there is a business plan. It comes in two forms: no interest in taking 'no' for an answer, or simple ignorance of corporate business affairs. After the initial 'Raw Deal online?' question, people either accept the answer, or they present Denial. As I said, we get this every couple months. Unless you won the lottery last night, and don't really want the money. Foley, and whoever would buy the licenses needed to make the deal worthwhile." It all comes down to this: "There isn't enough money to be made in this game for WWE, CI, M. Raw Deal may have been a success for a while, but they did take a hit on other games.

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And with Slam Attax's recent history (It didn't do too well either IIRC), the license just wouldn't be worth what they want for it.ģ: As for Comic Images, they appear to be perfectly happy out of the card game market. I'm in no way an insider, but from memory:ġ: Last I heard, one of the engine co-creators (Foley) is still trying to shop the mechanic system to another game.Ģ: WWE gave up on Raw Deal because the player base wasn't big enough, in their opinion, to justify the license. I hope this helps put solutions on the table for this issue If advertisement is an issue, u can always use Sunny, DX, John Cena, or any one else that has excellent mic skills to advertise this on Raw/smackdown.

#Mtg octgn image packs how to

There gots to be enough smart people that know how to run servers that play this game to apply to the company if it gets up off the ground again?Ĥ. Kids would eat this stuff up, especially if they can pretend to be CM PUNK, John Cena, etc.ģ. Petition the WWE to reintroduce it to the public. Petition the family of creator to allow someone to legally continue it.Ģ.

[harryssweatcreaturee]

Who’s better? II

a/n: sooo harry was a nasty bitter b*&%@ in the first part buuuuuuuuut (:

word count: 2.6k

warnings: mentions of surgery

--

(Y/N) knew Harry could be mean, but this? This beat everything he’s ever done or said to her. Her chest was heaving with anger, her purse and car keys falling from her hands onto the ground before she stepped closer to Harry. “You are fucking unbelievable. I can’t believe that you are so insecure and pathetic to think something so undermining of me. Accept the fact that I’m a great fucking doctor and worked just as hard if not harder than you did!” (Y/N) kept shoving her finger against his chest with every emphasis of her argument. She was furious, livid at the man in front of her. And all Harry could do was take it.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you but don’t you ever, and I mean ever, insult me of something so disgusting and low again. If there’s anything you should fucking know about me, is that I work hard for what I want, and you should know this better than anybody.” (Y/N) had tears pooling at the waterline of her eyes from the fury lacing with her blood, now taking a step away from Harry. “I highly suggest you keep your distance from me, doctor. Remember I’m your boss now.” And just like that, she turned around and picked up her stuff from the ground before finishing her walk to her car and slamming the door shut once she entered.

Harry stood there, feeling sheepish and although it was well deserved for his cruel words, it hurt to watch the anger fill her like if she were about to explode.

It wasn’t his intention to say something so nasty. Truly… Harry didn’t even know what he wanted to say but his anger got the best of him, and Harry had no control.

--

Like an embarrassed dog with its tail between its legs, Harry went home feeling like an asshole. It’s all he’s ever been to (Y/N) and now he’s starting to regret it. It only made him think of how angry he’d get if he’d catch another soul speak to her that way, but he was the one at fault. His hand was the one on the gun and those words shot right through her when his trigger-happy finger went berserk. Not his best moment.

The man tried to think of ways he could apologize, knowing this would take quite some time because (Y/N) made it very clear that she wanted him well out of her way.

Flowers? No. Wine? No. Surgeries? No. She can have all of them if she wants because she controls that now. All his best cases? No. Nothing made sense. Harry figured it could only be fixed with time and him having to start cleaning up his act. After all, she was right. She is his boss now and the man didn’t want to lose his job.

--

“Are you kidding me? Dr. Clarke, I respect you and all your choices, but I don’t want anyone else to assist me on this surgery. Please, reconsider. We’d save a young woman, and we’d make the hospital look good.” (Y/N) begged the doctor, “Again, Dr. (Y/L/N), I believe this surgery’s risk outweigh the benefits and it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

(Y/N) was left alone in her office, groaning in frustration. A young woman came from across the country for a second opinion since her previous neurologist told her the tumor in her brain was inoperable. She went online and found (Y/N) was a prestigious neurologist and she had to see her. (Y/N) ran some more imaging and sure, the tumor was in a part of her brain that could risk losing mobility at a high percentage, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew she could do it, but she couldn’t do it alone.

Originally, Harry would surely be her first choice, but after the shit he pulled the previous night, her next best bet was Dr. Clarke. Now leaving her planted, she had no choice. She opened her laptop to send Harry an email to meet her as soon as possible.

Meet me in my office. STAT. – Dr. (Y/L/N). Chief, Neurology.

Harry was walking into the hospital when he got the email. He swore he was about to be told to grab his things and leave. This was terrible. This is the moment where Harry had to deal with the consequences of his messy actions, and he was in disbelief that it got him this bad.

He went up the stairs up to the neurology floor, walking towards her office with his heart hammering in his ribcage. His knuckles met the door briefly before opening, finding (Y/N) sat on her desk with a frustrated look on her face as she pointed at the chair parallel from hers for him to sit.

“Dr. (Y/L/N).” He said in a manner of a respectful greeting.

(Y/N) had no time for games and bullshit, cutting straight to the point. “I have a 23-year-old woman here to see me with an inoperable tumor.” She handed him the tablet that showed her CT’s and MRI. “That looks operable to me and you’re assisting today at 3. I already cleared your schedule after your Craniectomy at 2.” Harry looked over the imaging as she spoke, agreeing that it did look operable and albeit it looked like it was going to be one long and hard surgery, if there were two people that could do it, it would be Harry and (Y/N).

“I’ll see you at 3.”

--

(Y/N) was scrubbing in, washing her hands attentively when she heard the door whip open, Harry coming in and beginning to scrub in beside her.

She hated how her body and mind worked in such synchrony. (Y/N) physically felt the air she was breathing heavier, as if it were a sin to inhale the oxygen around her. Her chest felt tight, and her heart was now beating hard. Harry angered her so much that the mere thought of him had her body immediately almost as if she were shutting down.

Harry was quiet while he scrubbed, lasting a few seconds longer than (Y/N) since she was done before him. The surgical nurses prepped and gowned them, (Y/N) standing by the head of her patient with Harry soon joining her.

“Scalpel.”

--

(Y/N) had no doubt in mind that the surgery was going to be a success. Harry and (Y/N) stood there for 13 hours, through cramps and burning eyes but they removed the tumor without damaging any nerves. It was amazing really.

It was nearly midnight, (Y/N) standing at her locker while she checked her phone for a few moments before she was grabbing all her things to go. Harry walked into the lounge, eyeing her quickly before sighing. “Can we talk?” She looked to the side, eyes meeting his. “Did I not make myself clear when I said to leave me alone? Because I can tell you in another language if it’ll help you understand better.” Harry frowned, daring to step just a little bit closer to her. “I understand but please, let me apologize. I didn’t mean what I said, and I was incredibly harsh to you. I really don’t want this animosity between us anymore. Really (Y/N), I’m sorry.”

She looked at him with no change in her expression, part of her wanting to accept his apology, but a bigger part of her was still hurt by his words. “You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to be where I am today, constantly being undermined by men the whole way. Your words didn’t taint me, but they were a reminder of all the men I had to shit on to prove that I’m a great doctor. Believe me when I tell you I’ll add you to the list if you ever try me again, Harry.” Her voice was mellow and soft, yet clear in contrast to her harsh and loud tone from the previous night.

(Y/N) didn’t let Harry say another word before she was on her way out the door, Harry now a foot away from her to stop her, “Wait... um… it’s late. Let me walk you to your car.” Any other day, she would’ve bitched him off and walked by herself but after that long surgery that left her lower back and calves in pain, she had no energy.

They walked in silence to her car, Harry standing a few feet away as he watched her pull away from the parking lot and go home.

--

For the next week or so, (Y/N) and Harry barely crossed paths but he was being different and weird towards her. At least for the Harry she knew, this was someone else. He always arrived before her so when she’d stop by the lounge to drop off her purse and grab her coat, there would be a muffin and a shot of espresso by the table near her locker. Any emails he’d sent weren’t as bitter as before, he’d add a signature instead of simply sending something as if he was demanding an order from her, and what stood out the most to her, the smiles he’d send her way the few times they would walk by each other in the hallway.

It was now Thursday of the following week, and they have another surgery together. Harry was first to scrub in this time, (Y/N) following behind only a minute after. Usually, they’d keep silence between them but today, Harry broke the barrier. “There’s karaoke night at this bar that I go to every Thursday.” (Y/N) looked up from the head she was currently working in, just looking at him confused for a second before her attention diverted back to the open skull. “Okay?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we should go tonight after our shifts end. We’re both free of surgeries after this one. No patients that might hold us back for longer. Maybe try and make amends?” Harry sounded genuine and (Y/N) wished she’d be bitter enough to say no. But she was too nice and too sweet despite their past hatred for one another. It was draining and maybe that was what they needed to end antipathy between them. “As long as they serve lemon drop martinis.” She said in turn of saying yes, but he’d definitely catch the hint.

--

They both headed to the bar in their own separate cars, Harry arriving first and opening a tab for them with a scotch for him and her requested lemon drop martini. (Y/N) walked into the bar, her gaze curiously looking around and she already loved the vibe. It didn’t look gross, people weren’t terribly loud, the music was at the perfect volume, it was great. She spotted Harry by the bar, making her way to him, and quickly noticing he’d started them on the drinks.

“Thanks.” She sighed as she sat beside him, craning her neck around from the pain on her cervical spine due to looking down the whole surgery.

“S’no problem.” Harry stated before taking a sip of his strong scotch. “Before anything, I just want to say that you are a great doctor and I admire your work. You were right, I was insecure, and I felt threatened and I have a bad habit of saying things I don’t mean when I’m angry although it doesn’t excuse my behavior.” (Y/N) turned her body to face him, a small frown on her face. “Look Harry, I know it may not seem like it because this is the first time we have a civil conversation but I’m not a mean person. Let’s forget that ever happened and let start from scratch. Yeah?”

Harry nodded and the corner of his lips perked up, (Y/N) reciprocating as she sighed in relief because she just couldn’t deal with the whole back and forth anymore. “Let’s toast on your new position and I want to properly congratulate you for being a badass doctor and now my boss.” She giggled and raised her glass to his as a small clink filled the air between them. “Alright, Dr. Styles. Tell me who you really are. I know there’s more than that cocky little act you’ve got going on.”

They spoke for about 30 minutes and were a couple of drinks in before Harry was up on the small makeshift stage belting out the lyrics to My Way by Frank Sinatra. (Y/N) laughed the whole while, Harry putting on an extremely dramatic show the whole while he sang.

It was proven to (Y/N) that this was what they needed. Damn Harry for having a good idea for once.

After his performance was over, he made his way back to (Y/N) in a fit of chuckles and seemingly out of breath. “Fuck, they took every bit of energy from me.” She shook her head with a small laugh, taking a sip of her martini. “Great performance, though. Think you should quit the whole doctor thing and pursue music.” Harry started to laugh, grabbing his glass. “Great idea, but no.”

--

The pair decided they call it a night at about 12:30 at midnight, not wanting to get too inebriated since they both worked early shifts the next day. Harry walked her to her car while she explained why she thought the gall bladder was the most useless organ in the body. “I mean, seriously! It does nothing important and it just pains you until it’s out. Why even have it in us? We barely need it to survive.” Harry nodded in agreement, “Mhm. You make a valid point.:

They reached her car, (Y/N) digging through her purse to find her keys, looking up at Harry once she had them in her hand.

Harry had a look in his eyes that she couldn’t explain. It almost looked endearing, but she didn’t want to think of something that was literally fucking impossible because a week ago, they wanted each other’s heads on silver platters. She stayed looking at him, Harry’s eyes not daring to break their gaze from hers. The air around them felt thick, his eyes glistening so nicely and (Y/N) could imagine herself getting lost in them.

“Um, well, good night, Harry. Thank you for tonight. See you tomorrow.” She broke the silence, Harry seeming like he was broken from a trance as a sigh escaped his lips. “Yeah. G’night. Please text me when you get home, so I know you arrived safely.”

They had exchanged numbers some time during the night, so she nodded with a small smile adorning her lips. “Will do. Let me know when you get home too.”

Home. x

(Y/N) saw flash on the screen in the middle section of the dashboard of her car from Harry. She was about two minutes away from home, quickly responding once she did arrive and was in the safe confine of the walls of her home.

I’m home. Thank you, again.

Harry was quick to reply.

No need to thank me, love. The least I can do.

(Y/N) felt her heart speed up at the endearment at the end of his first statement. This could not be happening. Not when she hated him less than a month ago. Not when he accused her of fucking her way to the top. There was no way she could have a crush bubbling inside her for the doctor that was dying to see her demise not too long ago. Sure, there were many occasions in which she’d imagine her thighs wrapped around his face to shut him up and gain some pleasure herself but that was the extent of it, or so she thought.

And as for Harry? He felt it happening inside his chest and he allowed it. Would she allow it too?

-

taglist: @mouthfulloftoothpastehs

[etceteraon]

losing heart | hjs

pairing: gamer!jisung x female reader

genre: f2l, fluff, romance, angst

warnings: slight language

word count: 10.2k

summary: after meeting and starting to date your close online friend of a few months, you start to realize that maybe you might have been better off staying online.

a/n: this is my first fic and I really hope it's enjoyable, I worked really hard on it and hope it meets any expectations. I also wanted to thank

@softbbyg0rl

for being so kind as to help me proofread this and actually help me expand upon it, I'm really thankful for their help and this probably wouldn't be half of what it is without them helping me out. I am indebted to them /j. I also had another friend help me read over this and I promised them a jeongin x reader in return, so expect that in the near future!

Video games had never been an issue for you before. You enjoyed them yourself normally, occupying yourself with various titles and genres of video games. Growing up you were known as the nerdy kid, finding interest in things that the other kids deemed ‘weird’. Really it was just that they were closed minded and couldn’t accept anything that was different or new. Anime and video games were entertaining, it didn't matter to you what other people thought about it. It was something that had helped you bond with some of your family members, and had helped you make a few friends over the years, one of them being your current boyfriend, Han Jisung.

The two of you had met online in a game you both enjoyed, Genshin Impact. Normally conversation in this game wasn’t much, just asking what the other needed and helping the other out with it. Things like domains, bosses, etc. After that was all said and done, you said your goodbyes and left, more than likely never encountering the other player ever again. When you and Jisung had met in the game however, things had gone much differently. It was only after about an hour of grinding domains that he had asked for your Discord, the two of you chatting on there for a few weeks before you both mustered up the courage to voice call. A few weeks after that, it was video calls. Only a couple months later, you two were very close friends, playing games and hanging out whenever you both had free time.

How quickly you two had clicked was a mystery to the both of you, but even your online friends were surprised at how fast you had let Han Jisung into your circle. Normally you were very particular about who you spoke to, let alone on a daily basis. Whenever you first met someone you usually spent the first few weeks getting a read on their personality and getting to know them before even thinking about actually getting close to them. It seemed Jisung had just rubbed off on you so quickly you hadn’t had a chance to actually go through your usual process.

When Jisung had suddenly brought up the idea of meeting in person just six months after first meeting each other online, it came as a shock to you, not expecting him to be the one to suggest it since you had learned he was actually an introvert despite his online persona. You had both learned that you lived relatively close to each other, having discussed where you lived previously. It was still about a two hour trip from your house though. Jisung of course had suggested he be the one to travel, but you didn’t want to cause him any more anxiety than he already had and told him you’d be more than willing to do the traveling.

A week was all it had taken for you to get on a bus and travel from your hometown to his. Jisung was texting you the entire ride there, clearly nervous with how many questions he was asking, probably wondering to himself if he should just call it all off. Your other online friends had gotten quite jealous since you hadn’t even met them yet, but you had to remind them just how much further away they were compared to him. They couldn’t argue with that. The two hour ride hadn’t felt long, your legs relieved to be standing upright as you exited the bus, holding your bag close as you looked around nervously. You had never done something like this before, and you honestly hadn’t even realized just how nervous you were up until now.

Scanning the busy sidewalk, you squinted, nibbling on your bottom lip as you struggled to focus, your heart slamming against your chest. Having to wear masks didn’t make things any easier, only being able to see the top half of people's faces really limited your ability to recognize someone you had only ever seen over the phone. After a few minutes, you had begun to wonder if Jisung had up and ditched you. Scrambling for your phone, you nearly dropped it, hissing as you unlocked it and looked over your messages with Jisung. He had said he was on his way to the bus stop a half an hour ago. It couldn’t take him that long could it?

About to call him, you walked over to the bench and sat yourself down, pressing the dial button and placing the phone up to your ear, looking around sheepishly, silently wondering if you were going to be ghosted and have to take another two hour drive home. Faintly you could hear the sound of a phone ringing, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you turned your attention to the source, seeing a rather short male with bleach blonde hair running towards the bus stop with a motorcycle helmet in hand. It was only moments before the male wearing all black actually reached the stop, looking around, locking eyes with you for a moment before pulling out his phone that was ringing and taking less than a second to look at the caller ID before answering.

“Y/n? I just got here- Where are you?” He questioned, nearly making you scoff into your phone’s receiver as you stood up, looking directly at him and cocking an eyebrow.

“Right in front of you.”

The slow turn and the look of realization was more than comical. Jisung’s eyes widening and then scrunching as he smiled under his mask. Hanging up the phone he slowly walked over, rubbing the back of his neck as he cleared his throat, shaking slightly with anxiety. “I uh, I’m sorry for getting here late. I kind of ran into an issue and had to do some last minute problem solving.” He explained, earning a head tilt from you. “What kind of problem?” You asked, wanting him to elaborate.

A quiet chuckle left his lips as he held up the motorcycle helmet he was holding, motioning back towards a bike that was parked on the side of the road. “I only had one. So I had to go and buy another.” You were sure your expression had matched Jisung’s from just moments before, in shock as you realized the motorcycle was his. If he was slow at realizing you were right in front of him, you were slow in realizing something much more obvious. “You never told me you drive a motorcycle…” You trailed off, Jisung nodding slowly in agreement.

“Ride a motorcycle but yeah. It never really came up and I’m not one of those people who constantly brags about riding one. It’s just a mode of transportation and happens to be cheaper than a car.” He shrugged, and honestly, you couldn’t argue with his reasoning. Clearing your throat, you shrugged your bag further up onto your shoulder, shifting your weight back and forth on your feet. “Well, I’m here. Now what?”

Jisung paused for a moment, seemingly processing your words before motioning towards his bike once more. “I figured we could go back to my place. I figured I’d order food since I’m not the best cook as you know. Almost burnt down my apartment on multiple occasions. My roommate is there, but he’s really chill. You’ve heard him every now and then on call or on mic. He normally keeps to himself, but I already told him about you coming and he doesn’t mind.” He stopped, thinking about whether or not that was everything he was wanting to say. “...Yeah. Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that of course. We can always go somewhere public and just hang out like that.” He offered, clearly not wanting to make you do anything you didn’t want to do.

“No, that sounds great.” You assured him, seeing his eyes scrunch as he smiled again, nodding happily. “Okay cool, let me just-” He stepped forward, getting alarmingly close and leaning forward. It felt as if your heart had stopped beating and the world was moving in slow motion around you. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Jisung placed the helmet he had been holding on your head, knocking you right out of your trance. “-ouch…” You mumbled, Jisung leaning back just slightly to look you in the eyes.

“Sorry, it’s kind of heavy, but it’ll keep your head intact.” He joked quietly, making sure everything was tight, locked and secure before stepping back and flipping the shield to cover your face, smirking slightly as he smacked the top of the helmet. “You good in there?”

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the shield back up to glare at him, smacking his arm as he laughed. “So you’re an ass in person too?” Jisung clicked his tongue before snapping his fingers and shooting finger guns at you. “You know it.” You were internally cringing, but before you could even think about teasing him for it, he was walking over to his bike and you had no choice but to follow, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

You watched as he got on his bike, pulling his helmet on with ease and starting the engine, the loud sound making you flinch. If Jisung noticed this he didn’t comment on it, simply looking over at you and moving his head to the side, signaling for you to get on the bike. You had never rode one before, so this was a nerve wracking situation. What happened if you fell off? What if you got into an accident? Your mom had always told you just how dangerous motorcycles were. What if this was a bad idea?

Suddenly, Jisung was off of his bike and his hands were on your waist, lifting you up and onto the motorcycle, flipping your face shield back down before getting back on himself. He kicked the stand up so he was now balancing the bike himself. Looking back at you, he raised his voice so you could hear him over the sound of the motor. “I’d suggest you put your arms around me unless you wanna fall off.” Mean, but you knew he was just trying to tease you. You didn’t waste any time to wrap your arms securely around his waist, your head resting against his back. You swear you could feel him laugh as he flipped his face shield down, but you didn’t have any time to really think about it before he was off, riding down the streets of Incheon with you clinging to him for dear life.

The ride to his apartment felt like forever when in reality it only took a few minutes. Your grip on him hadn’t loosened in the slightest, far too afraid of falling from the motorcycle. Even after he had parked and turned off the engine, you were still sticking to him, an audible laugh leaving his lips as he took off his helmet. “You plan on letting go anytime soon?” He teased, you only shaking your head in response. He snickered before carefully prying your hands off of his waist, getting off of the bike and helping you off before taking your helmet and tilting his head slightly, noting your expression. “Was it that bad? I tried to be a little less reckless than normal.” His tone was joking, but you could tell he was genuinely concerned he had scared you.

“N-No it wasn’t that bad, just not used to it.” You assured him, stumbling slightly as you tried to take a step forward, his arms quickly reaching forward and holding you so you didn’t fall. “Jeez, we’re lucky you don’t have very far to walk.” Again with the teasing. You weren’t surprised by it though, Jisung had always been like that when you two talked. You scoffed, hanging on to his arm as you steadied yourself. “Shut up Ji. Where’s your place?” You questioned, Jisung smirking before leading you towards the building, letting you hang on to his arm without much thought. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest despite having told you that physical contact made him nervous. You wondered what had changed. Carefully leading you inside and through the building, the both of you made it to his apartment, you finally letting go of him as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. If his roommate was home you weren’t sure why the door was locked, but you didn’t bother to question it as the door opened and Jisung motioned inside. “Ladies first.”

“When have you ever considered me a lady?” You joked, stepping into the apartment and looking around curiously, Jisung scoffing at your question as he shut the door behind the both of you. “Since always. You are one are you not?”

Shrugging, you didn’t answer his question, tugging at the straps on your bag as you walked further into the apartment. For some reason the decor didn’t really feel like it matched Jisung. After all, he had this whole e-boy/rocker look going on and you had fully expected the apartment to be messy and unorganized, but it was the complete opposite. It was clean, spotless even, and it made you wonder if he had cleaned simply because he knew you were coming to visit. Turning to look over your shoulder, Jisung smiled sheepishly, fiddling with a zipper on his leather jacket. “My roommate helped clean everything up. It doesn’t usually look like this.” He admitted, making you laugh and shake your head. “I figured as much.”

As if on cue, another male stepped out of a room in the hall, locking eyes with you and giving you a questioning look before noticing Jisung standing beside you, putting two and two together as a smile started to form on his face. “Oh, you must be Y/n-ssi.” He stated matter-of-factly, making his way down the hall towards the both of you and holding out his hand to you in greeting. You gingerly grasped his hand, smiling softly as he began to introduce himself while shaking your hand. “I’m Yang Jeongin, 01’ liner.”

Your eyes lit up at the realization that you were both the same age, “L/n Y/n, also 01’ liner.” You stated, watching as he relaxed a little realizing that he no longer needed to be so formal with you. The two of you let go of each other's hands, “Ah, well it’s nice to meet you Y/n. Jisung hyung has talked about you a lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced back at Jisung who smiled and shrugged as if to say he didn’t know what Jeongin was referring to. “I hope it was only good things.” You returned your attention to the male in front of you, watching as he chuckled and quickly nodded his head in agreement with your words. “Only good things. He’s always going on about how much he enjoys your company and how pr-”

“Yang Jeongin- '' Jisung cut him off suddenly, the younger male’s eyes widening before a mischievous smile crossed his face. The two males exchanged various expressions, you watching in confusion as they had a silent conversation with their faces. After a few moments, you cleared your throat, feeling awkward just standing between the two as they acted as if you weren’t right there. Snapping out of it, Jisung looked at you, quickly putting on a smile as he placed a hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the hall. “How about we hang out in my room, hm?”

“Wha- but I thought-” You trailed off, Jeongin following behind the two of you. “Seriously Jisung hyung? I thought we were all gonna hang out-” He mumbled, Jisung shaking his head as he practically pushed you into his room, stepping inside and shutting the door on Jeongin before the younger could hold it open. Locking it, Jisung turned to you, noticing your quizzical expression. He chuckled nervously, placing his hands in his pockets as he averted his gaze. “I just thought it might be better to hang out alone for a little while.” He stated, though his words sounded off, like he was only partly telling the truth.

You decided not to pry however, glancing at the door behind him. “What about Jeongin? He seemed upset.” Jisung shook his head, moving away from the door and closer to you. “He’ll be fine. He’s only being like that since we don’t normally have people over. After we hang out on our own for a while and go back out there he’ll forget about it.” He sounded so sure of himself that you had no reason not to believe him, nodding slowly as Jisung bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly debating something in his head.

“What’s up Ji?” You questioned, said male letting out a breathy laugh, not at all surprised that you had noticed something was going on in his head. “I uh- well I didn’t want to make it weird or anything but… I was wondering if I could give you a hug?” He sounded like he was nervous, and that suspicion was confirmed when you noticed how he was refusing to look at you, shifting back and forth on his feet. You found this cute, giggling quietly as you looked him over. You had just been practically glued to him while he was taking you back to his place on his motorcycle and now he was all shy and nervous because he wanted a hug?

Wordlessly, you crossed the remaining space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him. Jisung tensed up slightly at your touch, remaining still for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close and resting his head on top of yours. “I made that weird didn’t I?” Snickering, you nodded, still keeping your hold on him but closing your eyes. “Just a little, but it’s fine. You make everything weird.”

An offended sound left his lips, earning a laugh from you as he pouted. “I do not make everything weird.” He mumbled, watching as you slowly pulled away and sat down on his bed, glancing around the room to actually take everything in. The decor in his room definitely made more sense, anime posters and figurines, manga, various instruments, LED lights adorning the ceiling, his gaming setup. It was all very Han Jisung. A light blush adorned Jisung’s cheeks as he cleared his throat and sat down beside you, nibbling the inside of his cheek. “Sailor Moon huh?” You teased, watching as his ears turned red with embarrassment.

“You’re gonna make me take all of this down right now I swear.” He huffed, eyeing you as you took your bag off and set it on the floor before falling back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling and kicking your feet. “I think it’s cute. I like Sailor Moon too, she’s pretty.” You admitted, meeting his gaze to show that you were being honest.

“I mean, what’s not to like about her? She’s funny, sweet, caring, cute- plus she has a cute cat and super powers. Not only that but her outfit when she transforms is adorable. I’d wear that if I could.” You trailed off, watching as Jisung’s expression changed. You couldn’t read what it was, but there was a slight sparkle in his eyes as you spoke about his favorite anime character. “What are you thinking about?” You pondered, Jisung smiling as he snapped out of his trance, laying down beside you. “I just didn’t expect you to like Sailor Moon too. We never talked about that before so I didn’t even know you liked anime.” You considered his words before realizing that he was right, nodding slowly.

“I do. I watch it every now and then when I have time, but I grew up watching it. Dragon Ball Z, Sailor Moon, Naruto, the essentials.” The two of you talked about anime and your other interests besides gaming for a while, simply laying on Jisung’s bed as you both relaxed and spent time together, getting to know each other a little more. It was almost comical how easily you two got comfortable with each other despite having never met in person up until then. You both stayed there for about an hour before Jisung had brought up his music, asking you if you wanted to hear what he had been working on. Of course you obliged, sitting up as he grabbed his guitar and made his way back over, playing a few songs for you after getting over his initial nervousness to sing in front of you.

You praised him for how good he was at singing and playing the guitar, also mentioning just how thoughtful and beautiful his lyrics were. He turned bright red at your compliments, shaking his head as he put his guitar back, holding out his hand to you as he came back over, asking if you wanted to go out into the living room and watch some TV and order some food. Of course you agreed and took his hand, getting up and following him out of his room and into the living room where Jeongin was sitting, his eyes moving from the TV to the both of you. “Oh, are you finally gonna come out here and hang out?” You could tell he was upset, but not enough to cause his voice to sound angry.

Jisung simply nodded at his roommate, going over to the couch and scooting him over before sitting down himself and patting the empty spot beside him for you to sit. You made your way over to the two males, slowly sitting down as you looked at what Jeongin had been watching, some YouTuber playing a game you had never seen before. Looked like both of the boys were gamers, which made sense. Jisung took the remote from Jeongin, switching it from YouTube to Netflix and clicking his account before handing you the remote. “You can watch whatever you want.” He told you, pulling out his phone so he could order food, Jeongin looking over his shoulder as he mumbled to the older male what he felt like eating. You laughed quietly, shaking your head before returning your focus to the TV.

You picked out an animated movie you hadn’t seen in a while, reaching forward and setting the  TV remote down on the small table situated in front of the couch. Leaning back you noticed Jisung’s eyes glued to the TV, confused at his expression until Jeongin also looked up. “Ah, Jisung hyung watches this all the time. I think I’ve seen it at least twenty times.” He mumbled, your eyes widening as you leaned forward to grab the remote. “I can pick something else if you both have already seen this-” Jisung quickly reached forward, shaking his head as he took the remote and set it back down.

“No, it’s fine. If you want to watch it, we can watch it.” There was something different about his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what. Nodding, you went back to your previous sitting position, Jisung mumbling something you didn’t catch before handing you his phone. “What do you feel like eating?”

The three of you debated over what to eat for a while, mainly because you would suggest something, they would agree and you would go right back to asking them if they were really okay with what you had picked and then you were back to square one. Eventually you actually managed to decide on something, Jisung ordering for all three of you and then focusing on the movie. The three of you sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. It was about halfway through the movie that the food arrived, Jeongin getting up before Jisung could, opening the door and thanking the delivery person before bringing the food in and shutting the door behind him. He quickly sorted out the food in the kitchen before bringing it all over, handing both you and Jisung yours before sitting down and starting to eat his own, not even bothering to wait or thank Jisung.

Giggling, you quietly thanked Jisung who shrugged it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal as he began to eat. The rest of the night was spent pretty much the same, the three of you watching various movies before Jeongin decided to retire for the night, saying goodnight to both you and Jisung before shutting himself in his room, leaving you and Jisung alone in the living room. Once the movie you were watching was over, Jisung cleared his throat, causing you to look over at him, feeling a little tired, but not trying to show it. Of course, it seemed like Jisung knew even with you trying to hide it, a soft smile on his lips as he slowly stood up. “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.” Always the gentleman.

You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head before you could, “I’m not letting you take the couch. So either you take the bed, or I end up on the floor. If you sleep on the couch I’m sleeping on the floor, so either way I’m not sleeping in my bed. Would you rather me sleep on the couch or the floor?” He didn’t give you much choice, but you knew he wasn’t bluffing. Groaning, you lifted yourself off the couch, ignoring his cheeky laugh as he led you back to his room, turning on the light and showing you where everything was in case you needed it. He then reminded you that he’d be on the couch in the event you needed him for anything, saying goodnight and giving you another hug before leaving his room and shutting the door to give you some privacy.

Everything felt like a daydream up until that point, a sigh leaving your lips now that you were alone in his bedroom. You locked the door so you could change into your nightclothes. After you had done so, you moved to unlock the door, your attention grabbed by an out of place manga just after. You walked over, picking it up and moving to put it back in its place, only for pages to fall out of it, your eyes widening when you thought you had accidentally ruined something of his, only to notice when going to pick them up that they were song lyrics and different ideas for songs. You felt like you were invading his privacy, quickly trying to stuff the pages back into the manga before your eyes fell upon your name. Furrowing your eyebrows, you couldn’t help but look over the page, eyes widening.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and before you could react Jisung was already in the room. “Sorry I forgot that I need to get my clothes-” He stopped once he caught sight of you, clearly in shock with how he simply stood there. You smiled sheepishly, placing the paper you held back into the manga and closing it. “I didn’t mean to look through it. I was going to put it up because I saw that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be and then a bunch of pages fell out.” You tried to explain, Jisung finally moved to take the manga from you, setting it back down on his desk before looking you in the eyes.

“You read it didn’t you?” His voice was calm, but you could tell by how quickly his eyes were scanning your face that he was anxious to hear your answer. Nodding, you bit down on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say or do. Jisung sighed, taking a step back and running a hand through his bleached locks, “God- I didn’t want you to find that… I meant to tell you, like actually tell you. I wanted to send you that song once I had finished it.” He mumbled, his admission making your cheeks heat up a little. So you weren’t reading too much into everything.

Reaching forward, you pulled Jisung into a hug, clearly surprising him as he squeaked in surprise. “Wh-” Before he could even finish his question, you interjected. “I like you too Ji.” It was simple, it was to the point, it was the truth.  You felt Jisung tense in your grip before relaxing completely only seconds later, pulling you closer to him as he let out a breathy chuckle. “So, I don’t need to send you that song?” He questioned, looking down at you as you smiled. “I’d still love to hear it.” Smiling, Jisung leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll finally be able to finish it now.”

That was how everything had started, and that was what got you here. Laying in your shared bed staring up at the ceiling as the subtle sound of clicking and the drag of a computer mouse filled the room. You weren’t sure how long you had been laying here, but it had been a while. Slowly, you turned your body to the side, seeing your boyfriend's back turned towards you, facing his monitors, headphones over his ears. You weren’t sure when was the last time the two of you had actually spent any time together. In between work and his constant gaming addiction, it seemed you were always left to occupy yourself. When you got back from your job, he was usually asleep, so you’d climb into bed with him and sleep yourself. Almost every time when you would get up, he’d either be gone or sitting at his desk and playing video games. That was when your dislike for video games began.

Today was no different it seemed, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you reached over to your nightstand, picking up your phone and checking the time. It was late. Though you could have guessed that by how dark the room was, the LEDs on the ceiling the only thing illuminating the room. They had been Jisung’s idea, but you hadn’t objected since you figured it would be both of your living space and he ought to have some things of his own as well. You felt a sinking in your chest as you came to the realization that your fear was more than likely true. You had gone off to work that morning hoping, praying that Jisung would at least remember your birthday. But it seemed he hadn’t, far too engrossed in his video games to even notice you were awake.

Gulping, you pulled yourself off of the mattress, deciding you weren’t going to make a big scene. You left the bedroom in silence, going out to the small living room of the apartment and sitting yourself down on the couch in front of the TV. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Reaching forward, you turned on the TV, figuring a distraction would help keep all of your emotions at bay. That or it would drown out the sound of you crying once you finally broke, knowing it was only a matter of time before that actually became reality. You didn’t even bother to actually pay attention to what you had put on the screen, merely turning up the volume as you pulled your knees up to your chest, lowering your head so you could no longer see.

You weren’t sure where things had gone wrong. Really, nothing had. You and Jisung had been very happy from the beginning, and you had no issues up until you both actually decided to move in together. You thought that living together would have actually made it easier on the both of you, not having to manage your work/life load as much. Trying to date while living two hours away from each other and having jobs on top of that made things harder, but now that you two were actually living in the same apartment, it felt like you actually spent less time with each other. Odd how that worked.

In the moment, you were tempted to just grab your things and leave, overwhelmed with the amount of emotions you were feeling. Anger, sadness, betrayal, loneliness… it was all just piling on. It probably didn’t help that you never expressed how you were feeling, pretending everything was just fine when you knew it wasn’t. You were just never one to create a problem, opting to just suffer than make anyone else uncomfortable or feel bad. The sound of someone knocking on the door had forced any tears that were about to fall back into your tear ducts. You knew Jisung couldn’t hear with his headphones on, so you begrudgingly picked yourself off of the sofa, sulking over to the door and prying it open, looking out with a dead expression up until your eyes met ones you hadn’t seen in months.

“Chan?” You breathed, unable to believe he was actually standing in front of your apartment. When you had moved in with Jisung, you had moved to Incheon in order to not make it hard on him. This had caused you to leave your family and friends behind, including your friend since middle school, Bang Chan. He always had impeccable timing. Beaming, Chan held out a box that held a cake in it, a present in his other hand as he tilted his head sweetly, his curls falling just slightly. “Happy birthday Y/n! Surprised you didn’t I?” He chuckled slightly, watching as you took a step back, a hand over your mouth as you tried to contain yourself.

It seemed to be just enough to send you over the edge however, tears spilling from your eyes before you could stop them, a broken sob leaving your lips as Chan’s happy expression quickly changed to one of concern. “Oh God-'' He didn’t even ask to be let in despite having never visited yours and Jisung’s apartment before, stepping in, he shut the door with his foot. It took him only seconds to find a place to set down the cake and present he held, bending down slightly as he held your arms and tried to look you in the eyes, seemingly searching them for an answer. “Y/n what’s wrong?” He had known you for so long, there was no getting out of this one.

He knew that you never cried in front of anyone unless something was really wrong. That or you had been holding in your emotions for too long. This time it happened to be both. You weren’t able to blame it on being happy to see him, he’d be able to tell you were lying immediately. God why had he decided to visit you now of all times? Sniffling, you tried your best to stop crying, shakily wiping away your tears before Chan wiped the remainder away with his thumb, arching an eyebrow as he awaited an answer.

“I-I just… God…” You fumbled over your words, not exactly sure how to explain what was going through your head to Chan. Of course, it seemed he could sense this, taking your wrist and leading you over to the couch you had previously been curled up on, sitting you both down and smiling softly. “You can take your time Y/n. I’m not gonna rush you. Just tell me what’s going on and why you’re so upset.” He always had to be so understanding and kind. You just weren’t sure if he would be as understanding and kind to your boyfriend after you told him what was bothering you. He had always been overprotective and had even tried to talk you out of moving in with Jisung in the first place.

“O-Okay well, it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just Jisung and I haven’t been spending much time together lately. I’m just lonely and upset.” You mumbled, watching Chan’s jaw harden at the mention of Jisung, his eyes narrowing and growing dark as he tried to put the pieces together. There were things you weren’t telling him and he knew it. “Is he busy with work?” He questioned, your heart clenching. Chan really was just going to get to the root of the issue wasn’t he?

“He is sometimes…” You trailed off, nibbling on your bottom lip as you avoided Chan’s gaze. You hated it when he got angry. It was rare for him to do so, but when he did, he was terrifying. “What about other times?” His voice was cool and even, showing no signs of anger, but you knew better. You knew he was probably itching to get his hands on Jisung and in your mind you were wondering whether letting him in was a good idea.

“Well… when he gets back from work he usually sleeps or plays his games. When I get back from work he’s either at his job, sleeping or gaming. I mean, gaming is his form of stress relief so… I get it. It used to be mine so I can’t really be upset with him for that. I can’t be mad at him for sleeping or going to work either. It’s not that big of a deal.” You were making excuses for him and you knew it. But you didn’t want Chan to lose his cool. The thought was more scary than spending your birthday alone. “So he’s choosing video games over you.” Chan stated bluntly, anger creeping into his voice.

Slowly, you decided to look at him, only to see he wasn’t even looking at you now, but rather around the apartment, one of his fists clenched as he tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. You didn’t respond to his statement, so it was only a few moments before he looked you in the eyes, giving you a look that told you to correct him if he was wrong. You searched your mind for something, anything, but you came up with nothing, gulping as you slowly lowered your head, sighing shakily. “I-I guess.” You whispered, feeling your body grow cold as you admitted it to yourself aloud. Chan cleared his throat, nodding as he looked around the apartment once again. “Is he at work right now?” The silence that filled the apartment was his only indication of that, but when you looked around, unsure, he could tell that he was wrong in his assumption.

“He’s here right now isn’t he?” He scoffed, the anger he had been holding back making a swift appearance as he got to his feet. Eyes widening, you quickly grabbed onto your friend's arm, knowing he could easily overpower you and do what he wanted, but he wouldn’t. He may know you like the back of his hand, but you knew him just as well. “Chan please. Don’t make this a big thing. I’m already upset and things getting out of hand is only going to make it worse.”

“Y/n-” Chan started, looking back at you, anger fading as he looked into your eyes, knowing that ultimately he was going to do whatever it was you asked of him. “Can I just talk to him? You and I both know that you don’t deserve to be treated like this.” He bargained, only causing you to shake your head in disagreement. “You know for a fact that you won’t be able to hold yourself back if you ‘just talk to him’.” You gave him a knowing look and he simply huffed, averting his gaze. He knew you were right.

“You brought cake right? How about we just have that and hang out? That’d make me feel better.” Chan’s tension had eased slightly at your request, taking a deep breath as he nodded, deciding he was simply going to appease you since it was your birthday after all. Getting off of the couch, Chan grabbed the cake and present he had set down in a hurry, going into the kitchen and setting it down once again. You followed shortly after him, looking over as he opened the box, a soft smile gracing your lips. He had remembered your favorite color. “It’s very pretty.” You praised. Chan clicked his tongue as he opened a pack of candles, starting to place them on the top of the cake. “Of course it is, I picked it out.” He teased, causing you to roll your eyes and smack his arm. “God you’re annoying.”

Snickering he shrugged his shoulders, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and carefully lighting the candles. “Yet you still miss me. Crazy how that works.” Looks like you two were right back to how you had always been. He wasn’t wrong though, you had really missed him. Being pulled away from everything you knew just for Jisung had been hard, but it had been something you were willing to do for your relationship. One you weren’t even sure was there anymore. Pulling you from your thoughts, Chan started singing. His voice had always been amazing. After he had finished, you blew out the candles, Chan grinning and ruffling your hair before pulling out the candles and starting to search the kitchen for something to cut the cake with. “So, what did you wish for?”

He always asked that question. Every single birthday of yours without fail. You always responded with the same thing. “You know I can’t tell you that. If I tell you it won’t come true.” Laughing, Chan shook his head, amazed that you still stuck by that. “You actually think that matters?” He questioned, earning a nod from you as you opened the drawer that held your kitchen utensils, pulling out a knife and handing it to Chan who thanked you before getting to work on cutting the cake. “Have any of your wishes come true that you haven’t told anyone about?” He pondered, the question making you think back on your previous birthday wishes.

“Mmm, there have been a few actually.” Chan gave you a questioning look, pausing as he did so. “Like what? Since they’ve already happened you should be able to tell me right?” You considered it before figuring that he was probably right, pulling out two plates and forks before sitting yourself down on one of the barstools that were placed along the island in the kitchen. “For my sixteenth birthday I wished for a skateboard and I ended up getting it that day.” You stated, Chan smirking as he continued to cut the cake, shaking his head.

“Maybe because you had been bugging your parents for it for a whole year. Only to never use it despite me telling you I’d teach you how to ride it.” He added in the last part just to chastise you, placing a piece of cake on a plate before handing it to you along with a fork. “I highly doubt that had anything to do with your wish.” You rolled your eyes as you took a bite of cake, humming quietly. He had remembered your favorite flavor of cake too. Of course he had.

“You don’t have to hate on me for believing in birthday wishes just because you don’t Chan. I get it, you’re too grown up to believe in something silly and childish like birthday wishes.” You could tell he got slightly irked by your words, scoffing as he got himself a piece of cake. “That’s not even it-”

“Then what is it?” You cut him off before he could finish, tilting your head slightly as you stared at him. Chan slowly took a bite of cake, looking you in the eyes, considering his next words carefully. “None of my birthday wishes ever came true. So I stopped believing in things like that. I think it’s endearing that you still do though.” He admitted, causing you to frown. “None of them? Not one?” You questioned, Chan seeming to think back on it as he stood there in silence, looking down at the cake. “Mm, I guess there was one that came true?” He sounded unsure, but you leaned forward in your seat, smiling as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I think it was my eighth birthday? The memory is kind of foggy, but I remember wishing for another sibling. It’s kind of dumb now that I think about it, but it did come true.” He shrugged, looking back up at you as you giggled while taking another bite of cake. “I’d say that’s a pretty big wish. The stars probably just figured that wish was enough for a while.” Chan rolled his eyes, snickering as he shook his head. “Yeah sure, whatever you say Y/n.”

The two of you enjoyed each other’s presence for a while, seeming to forget about the issue at hand which was exactly what you had been wanting. Not wanting to confront it or make a big deal out of anything. Chan was helping you ignore your problems and you were more than grateful, the male stating that he wanted to watch you open the present he had got you, so you both moved from the kitchen to the living room, the TV still playing whatever it was you had put on. Gingerly, Chan set the present on your lap, waiting patiently for you to open it.

You had always gotten nervous when it came to opening gifts. You were never a fan of surprises and presents were just wrapped surprises. Slowly, you pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, peeking inside. Your eyes widened once you realized what it was he had gotten you, gasping as you practically ripped it out of the bag, looking it over with wide eyes. “Oh my god- This is so expensive Chan. You really shouldn’t have.” You pried your eyes from the present to meet his gaze, seeing just how happy he was with your reaction to the gift. “I knew you’d like it. I’m sure you’ve been eyeing it for a while now. You always do that with the new lines.” He stated, making you nod in agreement.

“I actually had this in my cart for when I could afford it. It still scares me how well you know me. I never even told you about the new line.” Chan simply shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal. “What can I say, I’m just that good.” He chuckled, already leaning back as you reached forward to smack him.

For a few hours the two of you just sat and talked, not even realizing just how late it was getting. The two of you were making up for lost time, only able to talk over the phone or text, sometimes video call depending on just how busy the two of you were. Life as a producer was busy, that was also part of the reason you were so surprised he had shown up at your front door. It was the last thing you had been expecting. Just like you hadn’t been expecting Jisung to leave your bedroom. It seemed he and Chan had noticed each other’s presence before you had even noticed Jisung, standing silently in the hallway as he looked between the two of you. You immediately turned your gaze to Chan, seeing the look that was on his face before had returned. That wasn’t good.

“Who is that-?” Jisung finally spoke, looking at you with confusion and slight fear. It was then you remembered that Jisung and Chan had never officially met, your eyes widening as you motioned over to your childhood friend. “Chan. Bang Chan. I’ve told you about him, remember? My best friend since middle school.” You explained, Jisung’s expression growing more relaxed as he slowly nodded, remembering discussing him before. “Ah, yeah. We’ve never met before.” Jisung smiled, making his way over to the couch and holding out his hand.

Chan stared at it for a moment before deciding not to be a total ass. He took his hand and shook it, gripping it tightly before paying Jisung a sickeningly sweet smile. “No we haven’t. I’m sorry for not telling you before coming over but I thought I’d surprise Y/n for her birthday.” There it was. You had been expecting him to say something, but you hadn’t been expecting him to say it right out of the gate like that. Confusion was written on Jisung’s face for a moment before his eyes widened in realization, his gaze quickly flitting to yours. “O-Oh…” It seemed he finally understood the tension coming from Chan.

Slowly you lowered your gaze, fiddling with the present Chan had gotten you. Jisung took a moment to look at it before looking to the kitchen, seeing the cake sitting on the counter. “Y/n… I’m… I-I didn’t realize…” He stammered, unsure of what to say or do. After all, there wasn’t much he could do now. “It’s fine.” You mumbled out, forcing a smile as you looked up at him, hating to see just how upset and guilty he looked. Chan on the other hand, wasn’t having it.

“Look, I know it’s our first time meeting and Y/n told me not to make a scene, so I won’t. However, it’s not fine. You should know Y/n well enough to know that she doesn’t like to voice what’s upsetting her. You may be busy with work, or stressed, or whatever, but you ignoring her for your video games is something that shouldn’t be happening. Forgetting her birthday? Don’t you think that’s a little much? Do you see the problem? Y/n shouldn’t have to beg you for attention. You should be paying attention to your girlfriend regardless of what your work life is like and if you can’t handle that, you shouldn’t be stringing her along. She doesn’t deserve that and you know it.” His words were harsh and to the point, but he got across what he wanted to. Jisung gulped, biting on his lower lip as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re right.” Jisung mumbled, hanging his head. “I’ve gotten so absorbed in gaming because of stress from work, but that’s not an excuse. I should have been paying more attention to Y/n, so much more attention. I-I honestly can’t believe I forgot her birthday. I didn’t even realize just how bad I was getting… I just…” He sighed, stopping himself as he turned from Chan to look at you, taking a few steps closer before bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. “I’m so sorry Y/n. Really I am. I don’t have any excuses. How I’ve been treating you is wrong and I realize that. I promise I’ll change.” He spoke softly, searching your eyes as he apologized.

You could tell he was being genuine, seeing tears pricking at his eyes as he spoke to you. “You’d better or I’ll come right back here and take her home with me.” Chan muttered, causing you to roll your eyes at him. “Chan-” You chided, earning a sigh from him as he stood up, placing his hands in the air as a sign of defeat as he made his way into the kitchen. “Sorry, I’ll give you guys a minute.” It was clear he didn’t want to, but he would do it for you.

Sighing quietly once Chan had left the room, you looked to Jisung and patted the part of the couch Chan had just been sitting on, waiting for Jisung to take his place before sitting crisscrossed and facing him. “Ji… I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not upset. I am. I’m really upset. I had honestly thought that you would pull through and remember my birthday but you didn’t. It honestly felt like a stab to the heart. However, I’m also not going to say you’re completely at fault since I haven’t been honest and voiced how I was feeling to you. Keeping quiet and just letting things get worse was my own doing and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you.” You mumbled, Jisung furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head as he reached forward, taking hold of both of your hands. “Hey, no. You’re not taking the blame for this. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me when you haven’t done anything wrong. You never once forgot anything important to me and I forgot your birthday. That’s huge and I’m gonna be apologizing for it forever. I should have realized what I was doing to you. That was my fault not yours, okay?”

You frowned, getting ready to disagree. “I’m not budging on this one. You have no reason to be apologizing to me. You know I’m right.” You didn’t, but you weren’t going to argue with him. Once Jisung saw you were done trying to blame yourself, he sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead, the memory of the day you had first met in person coming back to you. “I’m really really sorry and I’m gonna make it up to you somehow, I promise.” You hummed, closing your eyes as Jisung pulled you into his chest. This was more contact than you had with him over the past few months.

“You’re making a lot of promises tonight Han Jisung.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and looking up as he nodded in agreement. “I know, but I plan to keep them. I’m going to change and I’m going to make it up to you.” Smiling faintly, you hummed again, not wanting to say anything else as you rested against your boyfriend's chest, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to relish in his presence. You hadn’t fully forgiven him, you were sure he knew that as well, but you were just glad the biggest thing was out of the way and you wouldn’t have to tiptoe around the issue anymore. The rest of it would be him regaining your trust and fulfilling his promises. “Happy birthday baby.” A quiet mumble left Jisung’s lips as he kissed the top of your head, earning a smile from you.

“Technically her birthday has already passed. It’s nearly two in the morning.” Chan suddenly cut in, causing both you and Jisung to turn and look at him, you with a glare and Jisung with a questioning gaze. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I see you two have made up for the most part so uh, seeing as I traveled two hours to get here, you both mind if I crash on the couch?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Jisung beat you to it. “Sure, it actually pulls out into a bed since my old roommate comes over sometimes and crashes. I can set it up for you.” His sudden agreement surprised you, but you decided not to question it, Chan nodding as he motioned towards the door.

“Cool. My stuff’s in my car so I’ll be back.” He then left without another word, Jisung watching him go before looking back at you. “Am I sleeping on the floor then?” He questioned, causing you to roll your eyes. “Ji, when have I ever made you sleep on the couch or anything like that?”

He smiled faintly, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted himself off the couch before helping you up. “Well technically the first day we met.” Shaking your head you went to the kitchen, putting the cake and everything else away as Jisung moved things around in the living room before pulling the couch out into a bed. “You were the one that didn’t let me sleep on the couch. I was going to, but you forced me to sleep on your bed.” As Jisung was fixing the pillows, Chan walked back into the apartment, this time locking the door behind him. He set his things down by the couch, giving Jisung a sideways look when their eyes met. “What-?” Jisung trailed off, looking down at the bed before looking back up at Chan.

“Blankets?” Jisung’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh yeah right, sorry.” He swiftly turned and walked down the hall towards the small closet that held clean blankets and pillows they kept aside. From the kitchen, you gave Chan a look that told him to knock it off, the male deciding to act like he had no idea what you were looking at him like that for. Jisung returned with blankets in hand, setting them down on the bed. “There, is this enough?” He questioned, Chan looking them over for a moment before simply nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine.” No thank you, no ounce of appreciation in his voice.

Jisung cleared his throat, nodding slowly before turning around and making his way into the kitchen where you were cleaning up and telling you that he’d do it. It took a bit of convincing, but eventually he had kicked you out of the kitchen, finishing up by himself. You huffed as you went over to Chan who was fixing his bed for the night. “You know you don’t have to be such an ass to him. He apologized.” You mumbled, keeping your voice quiet so Jisung didn’t hear. Chan sighed, straightening out the blankets before grabbing his bag and setting it on the bed, looking through his things. “I’m still pissed at him. He’s lucky I didn’t beat him into the ground. The only reason I didn’t is because you told me not to.”

“And I appreciate that, but he is still my boyfriend and I would like for you two to get along. I don’t want to have to play mediator any time you two are around each other.” There was silence for a moment before Chan sighed, nodding in agreement. “Fine. I’ll tone it down.” Smiling, you gave him a small hug, “Thank you.” You peeped, him only groaning in acknowledgement.

“Where’s your bathroom so I can change?” You showed him to the bathroom before starting back down the hall towards the kitchen, only to meet Jisung halfway, him holding your gift from Chan in his arm, folded nicely. He lifted it, smiling sheepishly. “He’s really good with gifts huh? I know you’ve been eyeing this thing since the new line came out.” You were genuinely surprised he had known that since he had been so preoccupied the last few months. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he seemed to notice. “You leave your tabs open a lot on your laptop. When I wake up for work you usually leave it out, so I noticed that you were looking at it fairly often.” He explained, your eyes widening slightly. “Oh… I didn’t even realize.” You half-whispered, Jisung chuckling quietly.

“I’ll go put this up.” He smiled before brushing past you and into your room. Chan left the bathroom only moments after, changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants much like Jisung had been wearing as long as you’d been awake. “You should sleep. It’s late.” He spoke, causing you to nod before watching him make his way down the hall towards the living room. “Are you going to sleep?” You asked, knowing that he had issues sleeping, always had.

“I’m gonna try, but don’t let me keep you up. I’ll be fine out here, I’m a grown man you know.” He teased, earning a quiet laugh from you. “Okay, well thank you for everything tonight Chan. I really appreciate it.” Turning, he smiled, his signature dimple smile. “No need to thank me. I just expect you to travel two hours for my birthday now. I’ve set the bar high.”

Your playful banter went on for a while longer before you both said goodnight and you retired to your shared room with Jisung. Stepping inside you shut the door behind you, immediately noticing Jisung busy unplugging all of his gaming stuff. Your eyes widened, “Ji- This isn’t… I didn’t mean you had to-” You couldn’t even form words, Jisung turning to look back at you. “I know. I just think it would be best for me to stop completely for now. Get things back in order before I even think about introducing this back into my life. It got way out of hand and I don’t want that to happen again. So I’m prioritizing.”

“B-But that’s… don’t you think it’s too much?” Your voice was quiet, unsure as Jisung shook his head, unplugging one final cord and picking himself up off of the floor, dusting himself off. “No. Considering I’ve put you on the side burner for months now, I think it’s more than enough. Gaming will always be there, but I don’t want to lose you because of it.” Shifting uncomfortably, you picked at your fingers, unsure about the whole thing. Jisung walked over, pulling you into his arms and resting his head on top of yours. “I’m sure about this okay? So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…” You trailed off, deciding that if it was Jisung’s decision, you didn’t have any reason to argue with him. “Okay. Well, how about we go to sleep, and since you’re off tomorrow, I can take tomorrow off, probably call in sick-- and we can go do something, just me and you? There’s a fashion show downtown I believe. You can wear your new present from Chan and you’ll be the best dressed person, along with the best looking. Then we can go out to eat, or before. Whatever you wanna do baby.” Smiling you relaxed in his grasp, “That sounds great Ji.”

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr​ : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations.    The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week.  The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.  

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”. 


With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place.


He only crossed the line once. 



You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.  

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.  

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.    

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday. 

Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was. 

You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again. 

Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction. 

Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along. 

“We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).  

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on. 

Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.  

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)  

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.  

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?  

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer. 


As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence. 



Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.  

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”

 Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy. 
You just couldn’t. 
You couldn’t leave him. 

There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him. 

Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.



That chest…



…was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.

Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock,  he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it? 


Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion. 

He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?  

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”

You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”



Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.

“…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him. 



A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.  

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

[dontshootmespence]

Challenge Accepted

Summary: Spencer is desperate to return to teaching in person amid the COVID-19 pandemic, but with restrictions still looming large, his girlfriend finds a way to switch up his online teaching.

Words: 943

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving).

A/N: This is the first time I’m writing in like two months because school has been kicking my ass, but I had a request for a piece where Spencer is remote teaching because of COVID and the reader does her best to distract him...sooooo here it goes. :D

From the kitchen, you heard Spencer’s feet pitter patter across the hardwood floors of the apartment. The space wasn’t cramped by any means, it was sizeable, especially for the price in downtown DC, but after weeks upon weeks of quarantining due to the coronavirus, even your spacious apartment was starting to feel like a shoebox.

Spencer’s quickstep either meant he was excited to get his lecture going or he was frustrated in the confines of your apartment and was desperate to get back to teaching in person. His face said it all.

“Losing it?” You asked.

Spencer huffed an threw his head back, brown curls bouncing as he nodded his head and stomped his feet in the mildest of temper tantrums. “I just want this to be over. I understand why it’s necessary, I just really miss teaching in person,” he said sadly, almost wistfully staring out the window. “In person, I feel like I can form relationships with my students. Over Zoom, I can barely hear people, the sound fades in and out, and everyone else is in the same boat. We’re all just tired and...over it.”

If that wasn’t the one of the most relatable things he’d ever said. Padding across the room, you wrapped your arms around him and gave his waist a little squeeze. “Hey,” you said slowly, a devious idea forming jumping forward from the back of your brain. “Do you want me to spice up your lecture a little bit?”

At first, his frustration got in the way of your not-so-hidden meaning, but as soon as your hand traveled down toward his belt, your hand slipping between the leather and his skin, a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “People will be able to tell!”

“Only if you can’t control yourself, Spence.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asked.

“Is it a challenge you’re willing to accept?” 

This whole pandemic was getting to you both so his little scrunched up smile was a welcome sight. “Yes, please. Can we have a safe word or something so I can tell you if it’s getting to be too much and I’m actually going to come on camera? Because I’d actually like to keep my job and go back to teaching in person after this whole thing is over.”

Nodding, you returned to washing dishes in the kitchen while Spencer readied himself for his lecture. After finally settling on two taps on the back of the neck if he couldn’t take it anymore, he began the day’s lecture - a specialty he chose about forensic handwriting analysis.

You heard some now familiar terms - graphology, structural differences, connecting strokes and slants - and allowed Spencer to get into the swing of his lecture before you stripped completely bare and crawled across the floor and underneath his desk.

He quickly glanced down to see you bare, skin blushed, your hands traveling slowly and delicately up his legs. When he stumbled over his words, he hid it with a cough that no one would believe and continued on. Carefully, you slipped your hand into his boxers (thankfully, teaching from home meant he could look business up top with boxers on the bottom) and pulled his cock out. 

When you heard the hitch in his voice, you smiled to yourself and licked a strip up the underside of his cock, flicking your tongue back and forth across the tip before dipping to that sweet spot at the front that always drove him wild. Spencer did his best to keep control, moving swiftly between accentuating each and every word to allowing facts and statistics to flow from his mouth in an attempt to keep his secret just that. 

As soon as he managed to control his breathing again, you slapped the head against your tongue and looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. His eyes met yours and you knew you’d ‘get it’ later, but you were willing to suffer the consequences later to have all the control right now. 

While Spencer regaled his students with the differences between left slants and right slants and no slants and what it all meant, you swallowed around his cock and scooted yourself forward, trying to take as much of him as possible without making any noise. At least not too much noise.

To you, each slurp and gag felt loud and obvious, but Spencer spoke louder. These kids he was teaching would be able to see right through it, but you didn’t care all that much. They’d be fine with it. If anything it might give him a little more ‘street cred’ so to speak. 

Leaning forward on your hands, you wrapped your lips around his cock and flattened your tongue, attempting to take as much of him as fast as you could without banging your head on the desk. That didn’t go well. Spencer tapped the back of your neck twice and told his students he wasn’t feeling well, hastily stopping the lecture recording and slamming the laptop shut. “Fuck! Are you trying to kill me?!”

“No, I’m trying to make you come,” you laughed.

“You think my students bought that?” He snaked his hands through your hair and pulled you back toward his cock, which you eagerly lapped at.

You chuckled against him. “Not in the slightest. But I think they’ll be cool with it. We’re all just trying to make it through this pandemic with our sanities in tact.”

As you wrapped your lips around him again, he groaned. “If you keep taking me like that, I might lose my sanity anyway.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Don’t shout.

summary: Harry doesn't know what to do after he lied to Y/N.

word count: 1.7k

based on these requests:

"fuck i didn’t mean to send that haha okay for ‘shy little boy’ can u do something where yn and harry fight over him going to a girls house while on tour (but she’s a friend) when he gets back home yn ignores him bc she found out n stuff (the kid is not home i can’t remember his name srry) hope this makes sense"

and

"How about when Harry and y/n fight and Artemis thinks they are going to break up but he doesn't want Harry to leave him. I love you writing. Artemis is sooo cute uWu."

and

"hey idk if you’re taking requests but i was wondering if you could do one where you and harry get into an argument where he makes you cry and artemis sees and gets mad at harry and won’t talk to him until harry apologizes to you,, ty !!"

and

"where y/n and harry have there first big fight"

and

"For the my shy little boy series, could you do one where y/n and Harry fight about something and Artemis gets upset at one of them as well?"

a/n: had to change the requests a bit but i hoped they worked together!! I enjoy writing angst so i liked doing this one :)

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: 

Y/N was never one to pick up a fight. She was the type of person who preferred bottle up her feelings, most of the time. Usually she didn't have drama in her life aside from the occasional four-year-old tantrums and stuff, but then again she hasn't dated anyone in what felt like years. And she has never dated a famous person before, so every day she learned something new.

Like how trust is the most fundamental part of a relationship. She couldn't believe every little thing that was put in the internet about him, as eighty percent of it was all fake information. So she always trusted Harry and waited for his side of things before jumping to any conclusions.

However, this time, she couldn't do that. Not when dozens of pictures of him leaving one of his ex-girlfriend's house with the same clothes from the day before where all over the internet. She couldn't care less about that part, to be honest. What she was hurt about was the fact that Harry told her he was at his hotel and wasn't going to go out that night.

She knew Harry had friends, a lot of them were women. And she was no one to tell him who he could and could not hang out with. What she felt betrayed about was that he lied about it.

Now, Y/N considered herself a very mature person. But this time she allowed to feel angry and ignored every call of Harry's, not being in the mood to talk to him after she saw those pictures.

When he was back to London, he already had figured what was the problem. And he couldn't blame Y/N for ignoring him either, so as soon as he landed, Harry went straight to Y/N's home, determined to give her an explanation.

Y/N opened the door, raising an eyebrow at him but let him in anyway. She turned around and walked to the kitchen, completely ignoring him. Harry closed the door behind him and followed her, knowing her silence was anything but a good sign.

"Where's Artemis?" He asked softly, trying to make small conversation.

"His room." She murmured, raising a glass of water up to her mouth to drink from it.

"Are you mad at me?" He already knew the answer, but he didn't know how to bring up the subject. All he received was a bitter laugh from her. "I'm sorry..."

"For what? Because you lied to me or because you got caught?"

"Caught? Nothing happened, Y/N."

"Then why did you lied to me?!" She almost slammed the glass on the kitchen island, growing really angry. "Why you didn't tell me you were with her?"

"I didn't want you to be mad." He murmured, like a little kid who was being scolded.

"And how do you think i am right now? Uh?" Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/N stared at him. "I trust you, Harry. Every day, all the time. All i ever ask from you is honesty. What happens when i can't even get that?"

Harry panicked for a second, not knowing if she was going to break up with him over this. "Please, tell me how i can make it better."

"Start with telling me why you lied." She demanded. "And don't say because you didn't want to upset me because i'm not buying that. I called you the night before those pictures were taken. You told me you were at your hotel room, was that even true?"

He nodded furiously. "I was at my room when i called you. I swear."

"You told me you were gonna take a shower then you'd call again to wish Artemis a good night, but you never did. Harry, i called you, three times and you didn't answer. Here i was thinking you were so tired of working you fell asleep when in reality you were at you ex's house doing god knows what!" A single tear rolled down her left eye, breaking Harry's heart.

"She called me. She had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a friend." He said. "We drank a little, that's why i couldn't drive back to the hotel. I slept in her couch. Nothing happened, baby, you have to believe me."

"I'm not worried about you cheating, Harry. I worry about you lying to me. How can i trust you if you don't tell me the truth?" More tears fell from her eyes. "I don't want to be that type of girlfriend, but i thought we could tell each other everything."

"And we can, god, we can. I'm sorry, so sorry, baby."

 "Were you still going to tell me even if those pictures didn't come out?" She asked. Her lip was trembling as she waited for him to answer, however, Harry stayed silent. "That's what i thought."

She tried to walk out of the kitchen, but Harry wrapped his hand around her wrist gently, stopping her from leaving. But Y/N was too hurt right now to react properly, so she snapped. "Don't!"

"Mummy?" A much smaller, scared voice was heard, making both adults swallow hard. "Why are you crying?" Artemis was confused when he saw the tears on his mother' face, but then his eyes landed on Harry. Under any other circumstances, he'd jump on his arms, excited he was back home. But he was quick to put two and two together, and he instantly blamed Harry for his mummy's tears. So he furrowed, stepping in front of Y/N to take a good look at her.

"Hey, baby. Were you there long?" Y/N asked him, running a hand through his soft curls. Artemis shook his head. He didn't heard much, and what he heard he didn't understand. Just that his mum was shouting and Harry was apologizing for something. "Let's go back to your room, okay?"

She took his hand and guided him back to his room, staying with him for a little bit to show him she was okay. She knew Harry wouldn't leave, especially not after a fight, but she wasn’t sure she could keep fighting with him once she came out.

Harry made the decision to make lunch for them, hoping Y/N would be willing to talk to him. He knew Artemis was now mad at him too, and Harry felt so bad for upsetting his two loves. God only knows how protective Artemis is of his mum.

He didn’t even know why he couldn’t answer Y/N’s last question. He didn’t think paparazzi would take pictures of him entering and exiting his ex-girlfriend’s house, or that Y/N would react in that way. But he also understood how bad it looked from her perspective.

“You’re still here.” He heard her voice from behind.

“I’d never leave while we’re like this.” Harry turned to look at her, furrowing when he saw her red eyes. “I never meant to upset you.” She nodded, staying quiet. “I know how the world makes it look every time I’m out with someone from the opposite sex, I’ve been targeted as the biggest player for that.”

“Those things are not true.”

“And you know that. But… in my past relationships, they didn’t believe me. They’d automatically assume the worst, that’s why I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want the opinion you have of me to change. I’m truly sorry.”

Y/N sighed. She looked at him in the eye and could see how vulnerable Harry was allowing himself to be right now, how honest and regretful his eyes looked.

“You’re a good friend, and a good boyfriend. That’s what I think of you. Harry, you don’t have to lie or hide things from me. I know nothing happened, I trust you in that. Just, please, be honest with me. I don’t want to find out of things when there’s already millions of pictures online, I want to hear the truth from you so we can save arguments like these.”

Harry nodded furiously, again. “I promise, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” She stated. Harry walked towards her and pulled her for a tight hug, squeezing her close to his chest and sighing in relief. “But Artemis is kind of upset too.”

“I should go apologize to him too. We shouldn’t have been fighting with him in the house.”

“Go talk to him, I’ll finish this.” She pointed at the almost done meal Harry was cooking.

He obeyed, making his way towards the little boy’s room. The door wasn’t entire closed but he still knocked before entering. “Hey.” He said softly, but Artemis didn’t answer. “I’m sorry you heard that, monkey.”

“You made my mummy cry.” He stated, crossing his little arms across his chest, looking exactly like Y/N while doing it. “You have to apologize.”

“I already did, kiddo. Mummy and I have talked, now I want to say sorry to you, for upsetting you.” Harry knelt in front of him.

“Are you gonna leave?” He said, his mood drastically changed as his eyes filled with tears.

Harry was confused by the question, but was quick to assure him. “Of course not. Everything’s fine, monkey. Adults fight sometimes, but I’m not gonna leave, ever.”

“That’s what my teacher told Susie but her dad doesn’t live with her anymore.” He rubbed his eyes with his little fists, whipping his tears.

“But that’s not us, Artemis. I’m here, do you see? I’m never gonna leave you or your mummy.”

“Promise?” Artemis offered him his right pinky and Harry wrapped his much bigger one around it without hesitation.

“You have my word.”

They hugged, Artemis wrapped his little arms around his neck, applying a little pressure as he was still afraid Harry would leave him. But in response, Harry just squeezed him closer to him. He sat on the floor with Artemis on his lap, letting him calm down as he cooed at him.

“I love you.” Harry barely heard the words, as Artemis spoke above a whisper, still pressed to Harry’s tattooed chest.

But he still heard. And he couldn’t help the dimpled smile from appearing on his face. He loved this boy more than he could ever begin to describe, and the reassurance that the feeling was mutual was always something Harry loved to hear.

He kissed the top of his head, brushing some blonde curls out of his small face so he could look directly at his hazel eyes. “Not as much as I love you.”

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

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[zirkkun]

just before.

just before. (Undertale fanfic - based off of Wickedtale by @alch3mic​ - rated M by AO3 standards.)

+ soldier!sans x dancer!reader (they/them prns)

+ 4456 words, english

+ prologue to soldier’s story. first time he ever meets dancer.

+ cw: mentions of murder, classism, yandere/obsessive personality, abusive/controlling parents

+ “he hadn't heard that phrase in years. so constantly aware of the corruption plaguing the world... well, as it seemed, there was still one highlight to live to protect.”

+ AO3 link

Ebott City. The corrupted hell hole that was somehow above ground, while the actual hole the "monsters" came from had been far more palatable. At least, in one case. Many didn't have the same experience he did, but… whatever. That didn't really matter. He didn't really care about it anymore. Why dwell on the past? There's too much shit going on in the present to even have time for something like that.

Day-to-day life was flooded: constantly moving, constantly working, never slowing, never stopping. There's no time for that. The day he gets time to take off and sleep, get whatever medication he's sure he needs for his horrifically weak non-stomach, and lead a healthy and safe lifestyle while retaining his wealth? Ha. In dreams, maybe. This city wasn't kind enough for that. Though, maybe if his ambitions weren't so specific, he wouldn't have fallen into this path of endless work… but it's a little late for that.

His brother had made use of their skills the two of them had attained growing up, and with that opened a dance studio where others of all sorts could come through and learn how to dance. A small corner of peace in this awful world, that little building, where monsters and humans could both dance without feud, where rich and poor could both talk without judgement. Maybe it was ironic, maybe it was fate, or maybe it was straight coincidence that his brother had named the place "Enchanted Dancing." He knew that the name was merely in reference to the magic of their home where everyone had their own sort of dances they practiced, which they all soon found was very different from most other monsters who had battle magic specialties. But even still… heh, ah, it just further proved his point. The only decent place in the world was the Underground, before they ever surfaced.

A beep. 6:00 P.M. Work.

Or, rather, his second line of work.

While he'd abandoned his dance skills long ago, he never really fully disconnected with music as a whole. It's not like he really could when he doesn't have anything else to his life or history -- he doesn't know anything else. So, he made it a pastime to make his own musical works, trying to sell them online for money, but quickly found it's not exactly easy for people to find your work… let alone get them to pay for it when they do. He had run low on money fast -- so fast that he needed something quick and easy that he could do to not end up on the curb in a weeks' time.

He doesn't remember how he heard about it, or really what possessed him to go along with it anyway; but somewhere along the line, he'd caught word of some pretentious wealthy human furiously rattling off how their reputation would be "demolished" if the rumor that had begun about their business didn't come to a halt. How they would pay "insane amounts of money" to have that rumor "eradicated." You know, without really doing any work themself, or trying to better the work that they were doing, or fixing the root of their problem to begin with… Yes, because throwing money at the problem until it's pushed onto someone else is the better solution.

And yet… when someone comes up to you in your hour of despair, presenting to you an arguably invisible layer of protection in this world of work or die, something to get you out of the dark and stop the ticking clock of your otherwise inevitable doom…

It's not like he was going to turn down the offer.

He'd forged some sort of alias -- whatever it was at the time no longer mattered, since he'd had many over the half year or so he's been doing this -- and scribbled out a note of sorts explaining what was, at the time, a feigned, short "resume" for work as an information broker. The note was left with the pretentious prick, who did, in fact, end up contacting him in the end, offering more money than he thought he'd ever see in his waking life. Needless to say, he took the job… and found the issue to be so incredibly simple to resolve that even a child could have done it.

Well, no.

A child would have had more sense of morality.

... probably.

Who was he kidding here, honestly? He complains about the rich on a regular basis, their foolish waste of money, their apathy towards those that didn't have any money, just pure care for only money.

But here he was.

Morality erased.

Lives ruined.

Bank account overflowing.

Doing the same things they were doing.

The very least he could do -- and the very least he does do -- is support those whose music he'd wanted to support while he was on the edge of homelessness. Even some of his online friends, music composition friends, were consistently met with the cash they needed in a moment's notice. "Where did you even get this kind of money?" they would ask him. He would just jokingly say that an old witch blessed him with unending wealth, or something else to that extent of unbelievable ridiculousness.

But, unfortunately, not all of his money could go towards such good causes. While he did have far beyond the money to sustain multiple dozen families, at least a third of it was thrown right back into the exchange as he paid person after person for job after job he was unwilling to do.

There was no blood on his hands. No dust caked into his bones.

But it was splattered all over the money he handed out like trick-or-treat candy.

He'd met two others, notably, that did a lot of work alongside him. A crafty cat and a wily wolf… figuratively, of course. The three of them sharing the same first name, they merely tossed nicknames at each other. More often than he probably realized, they took much of his budget for work he was far too lazy to bother with. You know, scouring the dark web for information, stalking people to track their pathing… the occasional hit here and there. Sometimes, he would do it himself, but only if he really felt up to it… and frankly, he was never in the mood for murder. But that damn wolf was shockingly willing -- for the right paycheck.

He did recognize, however, the two of them did seem to have a mutual similarity that he, personally, did not share.

… he did not have anyone close to him. He didn't have anyone who looked after him, cared for him. It didn't bother him until recently, when apparently that damn wolf managed to lock the object of his affection into a relationship. Even the cat seemed bitter when he heard the news. Someone so fucked as him still manages to find someone?

… the world was just trying with his emotions at this point. Taunting happiness at the end of a pole taped to the back of his head, leaving it just out of reach, but always in his way and always in his line of sight.

Of course, he had his brother…

... who he doesn't talk to for weeks at a time…

... and he keeps turning down his offers to meet up again…

… yes, he had his brother. A strong emphasis on the "had."

He was alone. He knew that. But, at least for the case of his brother, he'd done it on purpose.

The last thing he wants is to have his brother, someone so passionate and pure, hands still clearly clean of sin; find out he has the richest humans of the city wrapped around his fingers out of both fear and dependability.

So, frankly, sometimes he found himself jealous of the other two. The other two who had someone to care for them.

He supposed the trio of them could sort of be friends…

He'd met the wolf a few times in person, both intentionally and not.

He'd bumped into the cat, wasted in a bar, more than once.

… No, they really weren't his friends. Co-workers is the best way he could probably describe them.

Yes, he was just jealous of them.

He was alone.

…

… Well, work isn't going to start itself. He pulled his phone back up to his face, clicking it on to see how long he'd zoned out for. 6:03 P.M. Not too terrible. He slammed shut his laptop, pushing back from his chair as he went to put on the outfit that had practically become his "uniform" at this point. A dark under layer of tight leggings and a fitted long-sleeve athletic tee with a zip-up turtleneck; a desaturated over layer of a baggy, now sleeveless hoodie and equally as baggy gym shorts. And, of course, a hat, as usual… but he wore those no matter the time of day.

His apartment door clicked shut behind him as he left, and once the door was locked, he evaporated into thin air.

-- only to appear, moments later, in front of one of the most lavish mansions in the richest part of Ebott City. It was so bleeding with "I'm such a rich, extra asshole" energy that it made his Soul twist with disgust. The walls were marble, shimmering from small lights below them to show off their sparkling, smooth surface. Each edge of the building was lined with gold-plated metal, even the rails to the stairway. Arching windows stood on either side of the front door, which was probably big enough for an average sized elephant to fit into with some extra ear room to boot.

Thank the stars he didn't have to go inside again. He already knew what his job was for the night, and to be back inside that disgustingly overdone building these pretentious humans called "home"... Just thinking about it made him feel beyond insulted.

He took another shortcut -- this time, finding himself on the rooftop. Although the sun had not yet fully set, even so, it was still much darker here than standing in front of the artificially-lit trophy they called a front entrance. He popped open his phone again. 6:05 P.M.

Unlocking it completely, he pulled up a message from the cat he'd gotten this morning.

morning soldier~ i managed to get done what you needed me to for today last night. which, you owe me BIG-TIME for, mister.

i was up until 4 am doing this!!

Soldier checked the timestamp. Yesterday, 11:34 P.M. Does that cat think he's an idiot? Whatever, it's not like this was the important part of the message. But, if anything, he's getting docked pay for really bad lying. It's not like the guy needs more alcohol money, anyway.

here's a list compiled of all the parties in ebott tonight. i only looked for ones starting after 6 pm like you asked, but there was still far too many… the list is very long (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

[file download link]

i hope you're happy!!! cause im not looking any more than that!!!!! ☆⌒(> _ <)

He downloaded the file to his phone, browsing through it to see what parties had been collected into the spreadsheet. He only could assume that's what was bringing them out, at the very least.

Oh, yes, his job for the evening. That's integral information, I suppose.

The mansion whose roof he sat upon currently was owned by a human family with the surname King. They had twelve children, all adopted, but were all also kept on very rigorous and strict schedules. The eldest of the children very recently had been caught sneaking out of the house every evening by one of their siblings, and sleeping noticeably late in the morning, their final semester of university was suffering from this all as they refused to finish their thesis. So, naturally as it is for all the rich, they threw their money at the problem hoping that would fix it.

Today's "that" was the skeleton monster sitting on their roof, waiting to see when someone would eventually leave the house.

With a hefty sum of money, upfront payment, as usual; Soldier was told to follow their child for three nights, and to report back after that time with what they had been up to. Seemed easy enough. Of all the jobs he'd gotten, tailing someone for a few days and tracking their every move was probably the easiest he's ever had the misfortune of doing.

He continued to scroll through the list. He had been given absolutely nothing to work with from the Kigngs as to where their kid was headed or when they tended to leave the house, or any information of actual use; so he was going into the job without a clue as to what he was really looking for. It was probably the most difficult aspect of the job -- hence why he outsourced the bulk of it. As for the "where," parties seemed like a reasonable assumption to make for a human college student. That's a rather common stereotype of sorts, college students getting drunk at party after party, is it not? Better than nothing, he supposed. Nothing else really came to mind anyway, but that doesn't mean there wasn't another option. Even still, it's a better start than nothing.

Now he had to just wait for the "when." He had the list in front of him, hoping he could deduce when the human would leave their house… but the more he read it over, the more bored he got. Guess the cat wasted his time. Oh well. That's not Soldier's problem.

Just as he locked his screen shut, planning to come down from the roof and investigate any exits that might be hidden to most of the house, he heard an absurdly loud sound he initially thought was a gunshot, followed by a raspy huff of various curses. Peering over the edge of the rooftop, after shortcutting there silently to avoid making attention towards himself; he noticed there was, in fact, no gunshot, but rather, an awfully messy and junky trap door of sorts, seemingly made of plywood. A human, who he assumed was the one who swore earlier, grabbed a bush that had been sitting next to it, picking it up like it was nothing and placing it over the door. It was in line with several other, similar bushes. The human dusted off their hands before walking, keeping a close eye on the mansion walls to their side.

Well, looks like he's found who he's supposed to tail.

He kept watch over them for as long as his eyes could follow, and then, the moment they left his vision, he shortcutted to where they had been moments ago, though slightly distanced as to be hidden nearby; and simply repeated the process. Soldier knew this part of the city better than the back of his hand, so he knew where he was at all times, as well, making shortcutting silently even easier.

… However, what he didn't understand was where the hell this human was headed. A few times he tried clicking on his phone, scrolling through the list again, but they weren't headed in any direction towards any party. And even when they started heading in the direction of one… they would end up taking a "wrong" turn and dodging it completely.

…

… this was taking a really long time…

It's… almost been an hour by now. Soldier's starting to recognize this area a little less. He knew the map layout, but not all of the details about where they were or what was distinctly different about each street. They were outside of the rich part of town, but not quite in the poorer side that he was used to, either. If he was remembering correctly, this was in the direction of downtown. Unless this human's planning on breaking into some probably-already-crashed college dorm party for the night, they definitely weren't planning to party at all. Okay, well, that throws that plan out the window.

But now he had no idea what to expect. Were they banned from getting help, so they're actively seeking it out? Unlikely. Were they secretly addicted to drugs? Unless it was alcohol, getting away with drug smuggling in downtown was a horrific, nearly impossible idea. Did they have a significant other that their family wouldn't let them see? Well… he had no idea. Thoughts and questions and possibilities kept cycling in and out, but he never lost sight of where they were going.

And, sure enough, the bright downtown lights descended upon them as they started making their way across the long bridge leading to the most eventful point of the city. Due to the sheer length of the bridge, and the fact that Soldier was not as well-versed in the map of the downtown Ebott area… he resorted to traditional stalking, mimicking their every step as casually and nonchalantly as possible, as though to avoid being spotted.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. One new message.

weeeeell? was my work useful? >:3c

He merely huffed half a laugh before typing out his response.

i didnt use it at all

what?! Σ(･口･) soldier, i went through all that hard work, and you didn't even LOOK at it???

i looked at it

i didnt use it

...you're at least still paying me, right?

no

you are the WORST 凸(｀△´＋）

i'm never doing anything for you again >:(

you dont need the alcohol money anyway

But the cat never responded to that one. Well, Soldier's never been the best at landing most jokes, despite his tendency to make them. Clearly sarcasm wasn't his strong point either. Whatever. He'd pay him later.

He put his phone back in his pocket, putting his attention back to his job as the bridge finally began to end. If the human was suspicious of his following them, they showed no signs of it. Good. Frankly, being silent by stalking someone in this manner isn't his strong suit. He had assumed they would have stayed nearby… not gone to the other side of the city.

The sun had set, but even still, downtown was overwhelmed with artificial lighting, and frankly, it was already giving Soldier a headache and he hadn't even been here for more than 10 minutes. Curse his ridiculously weak and sensitive body.

The human kept walking along, though their pace was beginning to hasten as they flickered their gaze between stepping and a phone screen. Naturally, he also quickened his footing, although unsure as to why. Maybe they were running late for something?

They took a sharp left into a shady alleyway; Soldier shortcut to its entrance, spotting them sprinting down it as fast as they could before eventually climbing up a wooden fence at the end, reaching its peak and jumping over it with ease. Like they'd done this many times before. Soldier, confused, checked the name of the buildings on either side of the alleyway… but neither were significant. One was even an apartment building of sorts, but it looked abandoned at best. Well, might as well continue.

Reaching the end of the alley and pushing himself over the fence with magic to avoid making as much sound as possible, Soldier's feet landed on the concrete of the other side. It was surprisingly… clean. As if someone kept it nice regularly. He went to take a step forward when he heard chattering, and instead, tucked himself behind the smallest edge of the nearby wall, barely peering over its edge to see the rest of the area.

It was like a very small park. Perhaps a courtyard? But it was too barren for that. Well, all except the trees. There were four skinny trunks sprouted from the ground, all of different kinds, and probably no more than two and a half meters tall. Around them was a square-shaped sidewalk of the same concrete he was standing on.

But, at that center of the trees, were two humans, not one. He recognized the one he'd been following up until this point -- vaguely, and mostly just from the color of their clothing -- but the other was new.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I was held up worrying I was going to get caught…" the human he'd followed spoke. "My dad apparently hired someone to follow me for a few days. One of my sisters told me… she apparently ratted me out -- she was forced to -- and now my dad's on a manhunt to find out what I'm doing."

"Yikes," the other person responded. They had a higher pitched voice, but a lower tone of interest. "Sorry to hear about it. You didn't need to come racing here to tell me that, you know. You could have stayed home and texted me to move the lesson."

Lesson?

"No, it's fine. I came because I wanted to. It probably would have been better if I waited… but I was too excited about tonight," the human explained. "It's the first time we're practicing the whole dance routine straight through. I've been practicing on my own some other nights, too."

… dance routine?

The other human let go of a heavy laugh. "You've really been practicing for two weeks straight with no other dance party breaks?"

"I said on some other nights!"

The both of them laughed.

But Soldier was stuck on "dance routine."

A phrase he typically only heard from his brother anymore, and he barely talked to him as is.

A phrase he'd never said himself in… so long.

An act he hasn't tried since they were still trapped Underground…

An act that, even back then, he'd sworn off doing after so many years of it.

It's like he'd been punched directly in the Soul. Possibly even with a knife.

"Well, are you ready to start, then?"

Soldier's attention peered back to the two humans.

"Yup, whenever you are!"

There was a brief period of silence.

Then the music started. He didn't recognize it at first…

But the realization that it was his own piece hit him in the face like a truck. Some sort of shivering heat rushed through his body. … embarrassment? ...maybe? He… wasn't sure.

But even still…

He soon became entranced by their dancing.

Only the human he had been following was dancing the routine. Every step timed perfectly to every beat and measure… so meticulously performed with such dedication. But then, some old part of him started to creep back from where it had been shoved away, as he started judging the technique of their every move. Sure, they had a… beautiful dedication to every step they took… but much of it was wrong. Though, they were not missteps. Everything planned was executed with confident perfection. The moves themselves were wrong. Some of them didn't match the tone of the piece at all, and it was clear that they were self-taught, just based on how they were moving in between each one. He wasn't mad, no… no, rather… he was utterly fascinated.

Soldier stood and watched the whole routine, start to finish. Though, he couldn't help but have a yelp from his own Soul every time they did something his own memory was screeching to be incorrect. It was yelping because… he wanted to correct them. He wanted to walk up to them, tell them what was wrong with their choices, and point them in the right direction. He wanted to… take them by the hand, directing their movements through his, teaching them how to dance the way he was taught. He… couldn't stop staring…

A scream. Soldier shortcut in a panic. He was now on the opposite side of the wooden fence, back in they alleyway.

"What, what is it?" The voice of the second human.

"I… I thought I saw someone." A breathy, horrified tone from the dancer. "I thought someone was watching me but… th-then I blinked and… they were gone."

The second human huffed angrily. "You haven't been getting proper sleep lately, have you? Maybe you should go home and rest."

Still breathing heavily, the dancer hummed a sound of malcontent. "I… Can I finish the routine first?"

"Really, now…" But with a sigh, the second human allowed them to start again from the beginning.

Meanwhile, Soldier…

He was doing his best not to scream on his own. So many emotions overwhelmed him entirely. Most of which he could not identify. But one thing would not stop looping in his mind. One thing other than a raging beat echoing in his skull from the sound of his own Soul racing, that was. In fact, that only heightened.

The thought of taking their hand. Teaching them to dance.

The overwhelming feeling of hearing someone else not just listening to his work… but expanding upon it. Being able to express themself through it. Being able to see themself through him.

The raging passion burning deep inside of him, regretting his forgone dancing career. It ate at his Soul, bit by bit. Begging his laziness to cave for them and them alone.

The fact that all of these thoughts happened in the very same millisecond that he made eye contact with them… he felt unexplainably and weirdly hot.

That eye contact. Their eyes, their face. They were almost as beautiful as the dances they performed… no… perhaps even more so.

Another loud beat echoed in his skull. The song was reaching its end. He knew he needed to start going home before he was caught.

But part of him wanted to be caught.

Part of him wanted to catch them.

… And all of him wanted to see them dancing… just one more time. Once more, that's all he asks.

Just one more time.

Maybe… maybe that will suffice.

Maybe that will drive away the fortissimo thoughts clouding his sense of reality. Maybe he'll be able to go back to…

A thought. A separate one, remembered from earlier this same evening.

"Alone."

He was… alone.

…

Did he really want to go down the same paths as…?

No, not really.

But it seemed his Soul was not giving him much other option. The mere thought of never being able to label himself as lonely… and if it was because of someone as beautiful as them…

Well. He already was a hypocrite, chanting against a society he partook in regularly. What other damage could be done by reaffirming what he already knew?

Besides. His Soul was desperate.

He wanted that dancer for his own.

No… no, this was most certainly a need.

[obwjam]

okay your writing is amazing. could u write something with bucky and sam finding a scared tiny? to celebrate the falcon and the winter soldier coming out

fjsdflksfl thank u!! 🥺 i literally love them so much it’s a problem i cannot wait for ep 2

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

“Sam, what the hell is that?”

“What--I don’t know! What makes you think I would know?”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s some 21st century thing--”

“21st century thing -- do you know what you sound like sometimes? Like a parody, that’s what.”

“Hey, how am I supposed to--”

“Come on man, stop yelling! Look. You’re scaring it.”

“Her.”

“What?”

“I said her! I… think it’s a her.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at the tiny, cowering figure in front of him. Whatever this thing was, it did have long hair and female-looking features. 

“Fine. Her. You’re scaring her. Happy?”

“Yes I am, actually. Thank you.”

“Ugh.” Sam rolled his eyes. It had taken Bucky months to finally answer his texts, and when he arrived at his old acquaintance’s apartment, they had found this little thing wandering around the countertop. Just his luck that he couldn’t have one normal day in his life.

“...what are we gonna do with her?” Bucky asked, the snippiness gone from his voice. He thought he was being paranoid. He didn’t have a whole lot of stuff in his possession, so anytime something went missing or was moved around, he noticed. Ever since he had moved in, he had a feeling he was being watched. He thought it was just a symptom of being a civilian after having been a killing machine on autopilot for 70 years. 

“Do we have to do anything?” Sam frowned, peering harder. The girl was visibly shaking, clutching onto what he could only assume was some kind of homemade satchel. “She looks terrified.”

“I think I would be too if I were her,” Bucky said, leaning in a bit closer to get a better look at her. She flinched and stumbled backwards, making Bucky’s heart wrench. Their gazes were locked, and Bucky swore he could feel her fear just by looking at her eyes. Maybe he could just…

“Hey, hey, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Sam warned, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. His gloved hand had started to move toward her, and the fear in her eyes only intensified.

“I don’t want her to run away,” Bucky said quietly. “She could get hurt.”

She gulped. Not only had she been discovered, but the giants weren’t going to let her go? She should have known this was going to happen. This is why borrowers never test their luck.

“Look, I wanna help too, but…” Sam trailed off. It felt weird talking about her when she was right there in front of them. He turned his attention to her, and he saw her clutch her bag harder and bring one of her legs back. She was preparing to run. “What’s your name?”

She was frozen. Why would he want to know her name? 

“It’s alright,” Sam said softly. He bent down so his face was at her level. “I’m Sam. This is Bucky. I know you’re probably freakin’ out down there, but we don’t wanna hurt you.”

Her eyes darted from giant to giant. She had never seen the one in front of her before -- Sam. And the one who owned this place -- Bucky -- rarely ever said a word. He spent most of his time watching TV, cooking or sleeping. She had quickly learned that borrowing at night would be a no-go with the way he woke up screaming and sweating almost every night. But he went out every single afternoon without fail. How was she supposed to know he’d come back with somebody this time?

“I don’t think she can understand us,” Bucky said, hovering over Sam’s shoulder.

“That’s bullshit. Of course she can understand us.” He paused. “You can understand us, right?”

Meekly, the tiny girl nodded. Sam turned to Bucky with an “of course I was right” face.

“P-please…” she whimpered. Sam and Bucky looked at her in surprise. “Please--please let me go…”

Sam was taken aback. “We’re not… nobody’s keeping you here,” he said so quietly it was practically a whisper. Her eyes flashed up to Bucky, who was looking at her with his mouth agape. 

“He wants to.”

Sam turned his head to Bucky. He looked wildly uncomfortable.

“Man, we gotta let her go,” Sam said, a hint of melancholy to his voice.

“It’s not safe for you out there,” Bucky replied immediately, addressing the girl. “We can help you.”

“N-no, you--you can’t,” she spluttered, taking a few small steps backwards. The two stared at each other in a long silence, eyes trembling. 

She had to make her move.

She spun on her heels and pushed off her back foot toward the small crack in the wall she had entered through minutes earlier. She nearly tripped as her momentum shifted, but she was able to center herself as she picked up speed. 

But before she could get very far, she smacked into something. She could barely even blink before a massive gloved hand slammed down in front of her path and she helplessly bounced off it, falling to the ground in a heap. Why did it just feel like she hit a brick wall?

“Dude!” Sam yelled, standing up to his full height and grabbing Bucky’s shoulders. He pushed him, and the two staggered backwards. Bucky’s gaze never left the girl. 

“What the hell was that! You hurt her!”

“I…” Bucky started, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t really explain why he did what he just did. The girl groaned, rolling over onto her back as the pain slowly melted and gave way to terror. It didn’t matter what she wanted to do. She was powerless against them. She slowly sat up, brought her hands to her face and began to cry.

“Good going, man,” Sam groaned, giving Bucky a shove before turning back to the girl.

“Hey, it--it’s alright,” Sam tried to sound soothing. “Don’t cry. Please. He didn’t mean to do that. He doesn’t know his own strength sometimes.” 

The girl shook her head and kept crying. 

“I don’t think you’re helping.”

Sam scoffed and looked at Bucky. “Oh, you wanna try?”

Slowly, Bucky walked back over to the counter and knelt down. The girl looked so small, curled in on herself. She had barely made a shockwave when she hit his hand.

“I’m… sorry,” he said stiffly. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Man, are you kidding me?”

“What? I said sorry!”

“Oh my god.” Sam rubbed his eyes and tugged on Bucky’s shoulder. The two stood up and shuffled over to the back wall, keeping a loose eye on the girl. She was still crying and not looking.

“Look, dude. I don’t know what the hell she’s supposed to be, but I do know that she’s scared shitless of us. Of you. And you seem to have a problem with that.”

Bucky was silent.

“I’d rather just let her go, but if you really wanna try and help her, you gotta stop being so afraid of yourself, or else she’ll never stop being afraid of you too. Okay?”

A few beats of silence fell between the two. The only sounds they could hear were the muffled bustle of the street outside and her soft sobs and gasps.

Slowly, Bucky made his way back to the counter again. Sam stayed put.

“Hey,” he said, cringing at how silly he sounded. The girl whipped her head up, surprised to see Bucky in front of her. The sounds of her crying were quickly replaced with whimpers. “No no, it’s okay. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you before. Honest. I--I just… it’s a rough place out there. I’m sure you know that, but--but I--we--me and Sam--we could help, you know. Help you stay safe.”

She rubbed the excess tears from her eyes and blinked.

“It wouldn’t be that hard. We could give you food and a warm place to sleep at night.”

“Only warm if you know how to go online and pay your bills,” Sam smirked from the back. Bucky shot him a look.

“Don’t listen to him. I know how to 'go online’.”

“You still use a flip phone.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow when he heard a sound from her he didn’t expect: laughter. Her hand covered her mouth, but her eyes were smiling at their banter.

“You… do you really want to help?” she ventured to ask. Bucky stared at her for a second, surprised and elated to hear her say something.

“Of course I do. You shouldn’t have to survive on your own if there are people who’re willing to help.”

Sam smiled, kicking himself up off the wall and putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Nobody should.”

“Do you wanna tell us your name now?” Bucky asked. He found himself smiling at her relaxed body language. Her leg was bouncing and she still gave them nervous looks, but she wasn’t cowering anymore and she certainly wasn’t crying.

“Ava,” she said quietly. “My name’s Ava.”

“Ava,” Bucky repeated. “That’s nice.”

“So, James, Ava,” Sam said, “why don’t I go get us some lunch, and you two can stay here and get to know each other better. Alright?”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled. He was starving. “I’ll take pastrami on rye. Go to Jerry’s, he’ll know it’s for me.” Bucky turned to his tiny friend, who was looking at Sam warily. It struck him that the fear of seeing him towering over her like a building wasn’t going to go away after a few pleasantries were exchanged. They could work on that.

“I… uh…” Ava didn’t know what to say. “I dunno. Surprise me, I--I guess. I’ve never had to choose…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you something,” Sam chirped. “You kids behave now, you hear?”

“Get outta here!” Bucky yelled playfully, waving his hand at Sam as he shut the door behind him. 

Ava couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Maybe giants weren’t so bad after all.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Yanois - Second Impressions Can Bring Misfortune

Read Part One here, or check it out on AO3!

Though their first meeting could have gone better, Illinois might be a little fond of the mystery prisoner. Let’s just hope his famous luck doesn’t run out…

Warning: There is an instance of deadnaming under the read-more. It’s accidental, but be mindful if that might cause a little upset. (I promise this doesn’t end on a bad note)

Word Count: 2,448 (sorry, it’s four hand-written pages)

-

After his encounter with the brash prisoner, Illinois found he couldn’t get the other man out of his head. It was hardly an attraction (no, shut up! It wasn’t!), but he accepted that there was a level of interest in the unknown. Perhaps it was the prisoner’s standoffish attitude, or how he seemed utterly disinterested yet keenly focused. He didn’t heckle during the lecture, so he wasn’t there for the sole purpose of causing trouble.

But the question that plagued Illinois was painfully simple: what was the prisoner’s name? He hated how badly he wanted to know. Ah, the curse of the archaeologist - insatiable curiosity! With no starting point, Illinois took inspiration from his work and fetched his laptop to start the research.

Most prisoners were from Texas, but not all. The stranger’s accent suggested he was potentially from New York, so Illinois decided to sieve through articles that made reference to a transferral to a Texan prison first. His abundance of good luck meant that it only took an hour to find a result that was most fitting. The article was several years old and discussed the outcome of a rather tragic case. The information was put to the back of his mind - Warden Murderslaughter always said to never talk about an inmate’s crime unless they bring it up first - as Illinois instead took the important information. The photograph used of the criminal was old, but it matched. Which meant… He had a name! All he had to do was wait until the next time he was set to visit Happy Trails Penitentiary.

-

As luck would have it, he merely had to wait a week. When he wasn’t travelling as part of archaeological trips, Illinois would volunteer two Saturdays a month to teach the inmates. Unlike his history lectures, these consisted of smaller groups of prisoners undertaking a short course on several points in history; which would be rounded off with each prisoner completing a short research project on something that interested them in the course. All he needed was to put his possessions in the room he used for classes, and then he would be free to find the right prisoner if he arrived earlier than usual. The inmates followed a set schedule with minor variations depending on when their work shifts were. He had been volunteering long enough to know when one of the crossover periods would take place. It would be easy to find him!

The rec yard was fruitless, as was the library. But it was upon leaving the chow hall that Illinois spotted the man of the hour. He seemed in a hurry as the prisoner dashed toward the hall.

“Ah! Can I have a moment?” Illinois called out. The tattooed man screeched to a halt, bemused once he realised who wanted his attention. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so it had to be him. 

“Sure. Fine. What?” His eyes didn’t stay on Illinois, but instead darted to the clock.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but I’d like a chance to talk. We got off on the wrong foot last time.” Even Illinois knew it didn’t go well. “Are you free after your shift?”

“U-uh…. Yeah?” Thrown by the turn of events, it appeared the bold prisoner was willing to cooperate. “I know I’d never hear the end of it if my friends heard I refused. They’s is always singing youse’s praises. ‘Sides, second chances is always a good thing, right?” He looked as though he was about to say something else, but decided against it. Regardless, Illinois was elated.

“Excellent! In that case, I’ll be in the classroom just opposite the library until seven this evening. Call by when you’re free. Even if there’s a class going on, sit in on it anyway.” The prisoner nodded and hurried past once he knew he was dismissed. Before the other disappeared into the chow hall, Illinois belatedly realised he should be more polite about this. He guessed the other might be swallowing his pride in accepting the invitation to chat, given their first meeting. The least he could do was show some manners.

“Thank you! I look forward to chatting, █████!”

Whatever progress had been made was instantly thrown aside. The prisoner froze in the doorway. Though his back was to Illinois, the archaeologist could see that the other was rigid. It wasn’t a reaction Illinois associated with hearing one’s own name…. Unless it was a name they didn’t use anymore.

“O-oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no -” For once, Illinois found himself stammering in a frantic attempt to get an apology out. It was to no avail, as a fistful of his shirt had been grabbed and he was slammed against the wall.

“I don’t know what sorta shit game youse is playing,” the prisoner hissed, “But if youse is gonna act like youse is better than me by being such a sly bitch…. I really wanna beat the shit outta youse, but I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Yancy! That’s enough!” The prisoner - Yancy? - dropped Illinois without hesitation and didn’t struggle when two guards rushed over and restrained him. “Bring him into th’ chow hall to calm down. I’ll speak to him in a sec. As fer you…” Yancy was led away by the guards, and it was hard to ignore how withdrawn he seemed compared to minutes earlier. With heavy guilt, Illinois pulled his attention away to finally acknowledge Warden Murderslaughter, who had been the one to stop the disaster in its tracks. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Illinois. Out of all our volunteers, I thought you would’ve known our most important rule better than anyone else: don’t provoke th’ inmates with topics that are touchy fer ‘em.”

“But I didn’t know -” Illinois’ head turned toward the chow hall’s entrance. “I only wanted to get to know him. I didn’t mean to…”

“Who told you that name?”

“No one?” He looked back at the Warden with confusion. “I read it in an article covering the trial online.” The Warden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Son… You could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta bother if you’d thought to ask someone here, even over the phone. It isn’t like you to mess up like this.” He put an arm around Illinois’ shoulder and began guiding him toward the staff breakroom. “The name you used is correct, if you go by legal documents or the press, but it’s not the name he goes by. Everyone calls him ‘Yancy’. See, his birth name has links to pretty painful memories that I don’t think he’ll ever recover from, and he’s been striving to prove he’s a better person as ‘Yancy’. So to turn ‘round and use th’ wrong name is like a slap to the face and a surefire way for him to hate you. Now, I know you had good intentions and it was an honest mistake, but you need to be more careful. Next time you see him, give him a good, proper apology. Just know he’s probably gonna be frosty toward ya. I’ll go talk to him and check if he’s okay, let him know you didn't mean to use the wrong name.” The Warden threw a glance over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Yancy’s a good kid, despite how he acts sometimes. He’s been through some rough times, but his heart’s stayed in the right place. If he can have a friend outside the prison… I think it’ll do him some good. Now, get yourrself a coffee before you start classes.”

Illinois blinked, genuinely surprised to realise they had arrived. Murderslaughter gave him a hearty slap on the back of the shoulder (Illinois had learned long ago the art of hiding the wince from the strength of such actions) before making his way back to the chow hall.

---

In the chow hall, Yancy was a mess. He sat far away from anyone else who might have been there. A cup of water had been given to him, but it was used more as a stress ball rather than a drink. He didn’t know what to think. How could someone act like they wanted to be a friend, then turn around in the same breath and say something that implied the complete opposite? Why remind him of what he did long ago? The cup was put aside so he could slump across the table with a defeated groan. █████… Was that all he was ever going to be to the outside world? Would the attempts he has made to be a better person forever go unnoticed under the large, looming shadow of his crimes? Then again, prisoners like him were locked away to be forgotten about by the world.

His form tensed the moment he spotted the Warden sitting opposite him. This was it - he was going to be scolded and sent to Solitary, and probably lose other privileges on top of that. How dare Yancy lay a finger on the visitor everyone worshipped!!

But it was nothing like that. Murderslaughter checked if he was okay. They sat in silence for a few moments so Yancy could try and collect himself without anyone else approaching. Then, the Warden praised him for not completely lashing out, but then took time to explain Illinois’ side of things.

“- He’s not like the reporters or anyone else who comes to ‘visit’ you. He was a moron who didn’t ask th’ staff for your name. It seems like he wants to try an’ be friends…. But it’s fine if ya don’t wanna see him today. An’ if you’d rather go lie down instead of working, that’s fine too.

“N-no… I’d rather work. Don’t really wanna be left alone with my thoughts just yet.”

-

Yancy spent the rest of the morning washing dishes. The work wasn’t ‘busy’ enough to keep his mind distracted, but it was labour-intensive and he could work out his frustration on the crockery. By the time he finished his shift and lunch, he returned to his cell with an idea - he needed to get rid of the White Jaguar model. It had to be the source of the blame.

But just like a blasted boomerang, the clay figure kept returning to him in ridiculous manners throughout the afternoon. Yancy dropped it in the trash on the way outside, only to be tapped on the shoulder by another prisoner who thought it was dropped by mistake. Trying to gift it to anyone in the Gang had them refuse - Bam-Bam had initially accepted, but changed his mind when he held the tiny model and handed it back to Yancy with the excuse that it ‘belonged’ to him. He then hid it in the long grass in the rec yard. When no one immediately found it, he went to the bathroom, returned to his cell… And was greeted with the terrifying sight of the White Jaguar sitting on his pillow, staring at him. Overcome with frustration, he decided to simply break it. He threw it at the wall with all his might. Instead of smashing, it ricocheted off the wall and toppled his radio that had been on his bed, before landing neatly on the pillow. Yancy picked it up, he swore there was a look of smugness on the Jaguar’s face, which reminded him of… Wait.

He could simply return it to Illinois and ask him never to speak to Yancy again. It would solve two problems at once.

---

“Come in!” Illinois’ voice was upbeat as he tidied the classroom after a day of workshops. The guilt from earlier had been put aside in favour of professionalism. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. However, that professionalism immediately slipped the moment he saw who entered.

“Yancy!” The name was blurted out with relief more than pleasantry. Whatever Illinois had been putting into his briefcase was unceremoniously dumped as he gave Yancy his full attention. “Before you say anything…. I want to apologise for this morning. I made the mistake of not checking with the staff what name you prefer to go by. It was careless of me. I know I upset you, and I am truly sorry. You don’t need to forgive me, as I know it’s something that hurt you… But I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use that name, and I’ll never use it again, Yancy.”

Yancy was dumbfounded. No one who deliberately used that name apologised. They never cared that it made him uncomfortable and upset. Emotions stung him for the second time that day, but polar opposites to the anger that had nearly consumed him in the morning.

“I-I, uh… Thanks. For apologising, I mean. Takes balls to admit youse was wrong ‘bout something. But it means a lot that, y’know, youse said sorry. So… If it’s okay with youse, we can consider it forgiven and forgotten.” Yancy looked ill at ease, but Illinois couldn’t blame him. It would be better to find a new topic to talk about before Yancy decided to swiftly dismiss himself. At that moment, Yancy adjusted his stance, drawing Illinois’ attention to his hand.

“Is that the White Jaguar model I gave you?”

Yancy blinked and looked at his hand like he didn’t know it had existed until that very moment. He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a quick shake of his head. When he did speak again, there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, uh… Had a few people asking ‘bout it, but I don’t remember shit from that talk so… Is it too late to join one of these class things you is doing?” Yancy mentally slapped himself for doing the opposite of what he had intended, but it wasn’t met with a cocky reaction. Instead, Illinois’ face lit up like the Fourth of July and invited Yancy to the desk so they could check if there was a class that would fit neatly into Yancy’s schedule. There was a hint of awkwardness between them, but Illinois was optimistic that this could be the start of a better chapter for them.

However, he did get a little ahead of himself and winked at Yancy just before the prisoner left. Yancy rolled his eyes, but the dismissive look had a trace of amusement in it as he left. Once the door closed, Illinois found himself staring at it for several long moments.

Okay… Maybe there was a bit of an attraction toward Yancy after all.

[svtskneecaps]

crew and cast

(gender neutral) reader x jihoon

genre: fluff + some?? angst? listen i tried lmao; words: 2.8k

well howdy @toxicsocial​ tis i, your tct secret santa. so uh, i can’t actually make people cry in a timely manner and i didn’t figure most people would be down to read like 9k of buildup, so!! the angst is minimal!!! but i tried really hard and i hope you like it i love you so much also i forgot to title it again until right now so don’t look at it too hard

You loved your high school’s theatre crew. From freshman year they’d been a staple in your life. It was refreshingly stable to be able to walk into the tech room anytime and reliably know what would be going on. Except, there was one thing about theatre you couldn’t stand: Lee Jihoon. You’d avoided him since freshman year, but unfortunately for you, you’d taken over the position of Run Crew Head and Prop Master, and he was the Student Director. You were forced to sit through every production meeting with him.

Which, fine. You’d do anything for the show to run well. But that didn’t change the fact that he made you want to commit a crime.

Or three.

“Great news guys!” you yelled, sweeping into the tech room. “The crutches still aren’t right and Jihoon wants us to repaint the brickwork on the platforms to be less ‘garish’ and the typewriter is from the 1940s when it should be from the 1890s and I’m going to set something on fire!”

Chan slammed his head against the nearest cabinet. “This is the third time he’s rejected the brickwork, oh my god.”

“Fourth time he’s hated the crutches too, and I’ve told him that the only period accurate typewriter in the basement is literally one wrong keystroke from breaking onstage but I guess he’s willing to take that risk for a typewriter that’s going to be in one scene.” You massaged your forehead. “I’m gonna stay late Wednesday so we can have our shit together by Hell Week.”

“I’ll have to join.” Chan peeled his head off the cabinet, cracking his knuckles. “You think Mingyu’s got time to spare? I might get him to help; there’s way too much platform for me to do in time.”

“Dunno, he’s pretty busy.” Vernon scooped a loose screw out of a sawdust pile and swept the whole thing into the dustpan. “Makeup’s been working hard to get the ‘ragged urchin’ look right.”

“I’ll con Soonyoung into it then, I don’t think they’re rehearsing the dance numbers tomorrow so he might be free.”

“I wish you luck with that, dude.” You scooped the crutch off the floor. “I gotta go beg costumes to let me into the basement storage and see if there’s another goddamn piece of fabric I can use for the crutches.”

“You have fun.”

You ended up getting lucky; Minghao already needed to go down there so you wouldn’t have to fight for cell signal to make sure you were allowed to deface the cloth scraps you’d found.

“You seem stressed,” he noted as he unlocked the basement door.

You snorted. “Stressed is an understatement.”

“Jihoon again?”

“If he tells me to redo the damn crutches again I’m going to nail him to the wall.”

Minghao lead the way down the stairs. “I really thought you had it that time.”

“Nothing is good enough for that guy.”

He shrugged. “He just wants the show to go well.”

“Yeah, well, so do I. He doesn’t have to get up everybody’s ass sticking his opinions where they don’t belong. He’s never been crew, why does he get to make us repaint the entire damn set anyway?”

“He’s the director.”

“Everyone else thought the bricks looked fine!”

Minghao looked at you sideways. “What’s your deal with Jihoon?”

“Like I said, poking his nose where it doesn’t--”

“No, you had beef before he got appointed Student Director.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. He’s always kind of been a pain even when he was ensemble.” You drove your finger into your temple. “And he broke a crucial prop that wasn’t his the night before the show opened and didn’t tell me.”

“You did props?”

“Buddy I was Prop Master. I literally didn’t find out until the Stage Manager tried to run that scene before school.” You glared absently at the shelves of typewriters to one side of the walkway. “I literally had to skip my last three classes and dinner to get a replacement and he never even apologized for it.”

Minghao whistled. “That’s unforgivable.”

“Tell me about it.” You waded through the costume racks to get to the bins of scraps in the back.

“And you’ve never considered forgiving and forgetting? I mean, it’s been two years.”

You sighed, leaning the crutch against a shelf. “I mean. . .”

He snickered. “Come on, it’s just you and me and the ghosts down here, you can say it.”

“I mean. . . he just makes me so mad!” You yanked the lid off a tote with a snap that echoed across the basement. “Like, every time I start thinking maybe he’s not so bad he pulls some other shit on me and I slam right back into hating his goddamn guts.”

“You’re on the same team,” Minghao called down the row. “You’re just trying to make the show better.”

“Making the show better shouldn’t involve painting the entire set three times.”

“I’m just saying, it’d put at least three years back on your lifespan.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You managed to update the crutches by the end of the day, and repainted the entire set on Wednesday--although you had to sacrifice your lunch and free periods and several hours after school to get it all done. Thursday left you with a finished set and another production meeting.

He didn’t like the bricks.

You saw red.

In the hallway, you pulled him aside.

“What don’t you like about the bricks?”

He frowned. “They detract attention from the actors.”

You wanted to seize him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “It’s gray! It is the darkest most nondescript color we have in the buckets and you’re telling me it detracts attention from the actors? You haven’t even seen them rehearse with it!”

“It’s gonna be too much,” he argued. “It’s the same color as half the costumes--”

“I have seen every single costume in the show, it’s not even close to the same pigment!”

“Even still--”

“Listen,” you snapped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “if you want the set redone in time for Hell Week then I expect to see you in the goddamn tech room tomorrow after school wearing something you don’t mind getting paint on because I’m not going to make Chan and Vernon repaint the entire damn set by themselves for the fifth time and I have to figure out how to keep that 1890s typewriter from falling apart, do I make myself clear?”

He looked almost disgusted at the prospect, but he nodded stiffly. “Crystal.”

You turned on your heel just as stiffly, striding away before you lost all composure.

To your complete surprise, Jihoon actually showed up the next day, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a shirt so faded that whatever decal had been on the front had long washed away.

“So he arrives!” Chan yelled from his perch on the desk, where he’d been watching you wrestle with the typewriter.

Jihoon looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he squared his shoulders. “Where do you need me?”

“We gotta move all the set pieces in before we start,” Chan said. “Then I’ll probably have you start on the legs. We gotta wait for Vernon before we can move the tall stuff. One sec, I’ll--” he bolted into the hallway.

Jihoon stared after him, then looked to you. “Where is he going?”

“To tell Vernon we’re actually doing the repaint.” You shrugged. “Honestly I’m surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would.”

“Actually you just said you understood the ultimatum; we had no idea if you’d show or not.”

“Oh.”

You shrugged. “Good to have you anyway.”

Chan returned with Vernon before the silence could get too awkward, and you helped them move all the platforms back into the tech room. From there, Vernon set up his speaker and the real work began.

Jihoon helped choose the color of the bricks (and Chan threatened to really break his leg if he changed his mind about it later), and they got to laying down the base coat. You went back to glaring at the typewriter and reading through every antiques article you could find online.

After trying seven different methods to no avail, you shoved your chair away from the desk. “Typewriters are hellspawn created by the Devil himself to punish unfortunate Prop Masters.”

Vernon snickered. “That good, huh?”

“I’m going to put a screwdriver through the keyboard,” you said mildly.

“Okay maybe don’t do that.” Chan paused to pull a clean paintbrush out of his pocket and throw it at you. “You know where the overalls are; come take a break.”

“Why do you just have that?” Jihoon asked.

“A painter is always prepared.”

Jihoon glanced at you. You shrugged. “I don’t question it.”

Between the four of you, you managed to finish all but one platform by the time Chan and Vernon had to go. Being older, you had infinite time, so you cracked your knuckles and sat back at the typewriter. Jihoon lingered in the doorway.

“You need any help?”

You looked up. “Nah, I think I got it. Thank you, though.”

He shifted. “Listen, I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot but, I’m sorry. I know I never really apologized for the prop, and I’m sorry for how long it took, too.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. It’s kind of unfair of me to hold it against you this long anyway, so, I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t the only reason he made you so angry, but that chip on your shoulder made a lot of other offenses you would have normally overlooked seem larger.

“Can we maybe start over?” he asked. “Freshman year all over again?”

You actually found yourself nodding. “As long as you don’t make us repaint the set ever again.”

He laughed, running a paint-stained hand through his hair. “No, I won’t. I can’t do that to your crew again.”

“Good. Cause we weren’t kidding about breaking your legs.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He hiked up his backpack. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Happy Hell Week.”

Hell Week was hell (and the sky is blue).

Three of the actors lost their voices four days before Opening Night. One of the glasses for the restaurant scene shattered during the dance number--even though it was supposed to be offstage already--and the third lead got very close to twisting her ankle after landing a jump wrong. The actors could never manage to find their light, there were technical glitches with the backstage mics, and you were so on edge that if you heard the word standby you’d jump so bad you’d bruise your knee on the table.

The typewriter gave you more anxiety than it was worth. The actress using it had strict instructions not to actually touch the keys, because the only thing holding it together was gaff tape. You’d put Jun and Wonwoo in charge of bringing the desk it sat on onstage, because you trusted them to have it under control and keep it from tipping, because if it tipped at an angle any more than about 30 degrees, the keys would get out of alignment and that required time and experience to fix, of which you had neither.

Needless to say, you were two steps away from tearing your hair out.

At least you weren’t fighting with Jihoon, though. You’d even gone out to grab takeout with him for dinner, once, and yelling about all the problems in the car was really cathartic and you came back refreshed and relaxed, for once (only for every muscle in your back to clench at once because an actor bumped the prop table in their hurry to get in costume and one of the glasses fell over).

But it was Opening Night, and you were wound tighter than a spring waiting for everything to go wrong.

And it did.

Jihoon was in the hallway behind the stage, giving Joshua a few final notes about his big solo, and he didn’t check his surroundings closely enough. In his wild gesturing to demonstrate the level of enthusiasm, his arm clipped the typewriter.

And it fell.

He stared at it. Joshua stared at it. You could not tear your eyes from it.

The keys had tilted out of alignment. The bar holding the paper was skewed. The decorative paneling to one side had cracked down the middle. You didn’t have time to fix it before it went on. Maybe you couldn’t fix it at all.

“I am so sorry--” Jihoon started, but you stopped him with a hand, balling the other into a fist.

“Don’t,” you forced through your teeth, because you didn’t want to start yelling at him; it was an honest mistake and it was your fault for not resettling it on the desk after the last run. You were just seething with rage, at yourself, at the typewriter--you didn’t want to project it.

“Ten minutes to go!” someone yelled down the hall. You forced yourself to exhale, gingerly picking it up, flinching with every shift of the keys.

“Is there anything I can--”

“Get to the booth. Tell Seungcheol what happened, just-- be in your place. Jun!” you yelled into the tech room. His head jerked up. “I need you to take over headset for me, can you do that?”

His mouth fell open seeing the typewriter and he nodded, wordlessly, leaping to his feet and hurrying backstage.

Jihoon still stood there, looking between the typewriter and you with an anguished expression. “You’re sure you don’t--”

“I got it,” you said again, clipped. “I can handle it. I can-- just get to the booth, Jihoon!”

You hadn’t yelled. You knew enough not to yell when the audience was already in their seats. But your words had the same effect, because he flinched, and he nodded, and he turned the other way and ran.

Your rage was turning inward as fast as it was dulling, but you had a show to put on, so you placed the broken typewriter carefully on a counter in the tech room and sprinted for the basement.

You managed to get the 1970s typewriter back upstairs and on the desk before it went on, and the show went on without a hitch. The actors hit their marks, all the props found their way back to the prop table, and the pit orchestra didn’t have to loop a section for a missed cue even once.

You waited until everyone was gone before you let yourself cry.

“I really am sorry.”

You looked up.

Jihoon stood in the doorway, twisting his hands.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s partially my fault for not making sure it was centered right.” You rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, hoping to disguise the redness. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”

“I don’t know if it can even be fixed,” you said, staring blankly at the remains of the typewriter in front of you. “It might-- it might be beyond my help.”

For a long moment, you stared at it, mind spiralling.

You pushed yourself up. “They’ll want to lock up.” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll just come in before the show and work on it. Maybe get Jun to grab me some McDonald’s or something and eat during the intermission.”

Jihoon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not healthy.”

“I’ve done it before.” You waved him off. “The show must go on, you know?” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The day came by in flashes as you researched the typewriter with a renewed vigor. You could probably use hot glue and some kind of putty to hide the crack in the paneling, you could probably put the keys back or at the very least tape them to look like they were back, from a distance. The bar at the top would be much harder but you hadn’t really inspected it the night before so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was?

You didn’t feel particularly hopeful when you stopped by the tech room to pick up the typewriter.

Until you saw the typewriter.

“What the fuck.” It was fixed. The keys aligned, the crack sealed, the bar sitting on top just as it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like it had when you’d first set it on that desk.

Jihoon came around the corner, dried putty staining his hands. “Hey,” he said, seeming tired but absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you do this?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want you putting your health on the line.”

“Oh my god, thank you. I can’t-- this is incredible!” You kept tracing your fingers over the ridge formed by the sealed crack, but you couldn’t see it.

“I did a good job, then?” He put his hands in his pockets, grinning.

“Better than good, oh my god I could kiss you!”

Your cheeks burned when you realized what you’d said, but he laughed. “Whoa, buy me dinner first.”

“Bet,” you said, accepting it like a challenge. “You pick the place, I’ll pay.”

“Okay,” he said, and then lifted his hands. “I gotta wash up.”

“Meet you by the front door in five?”

“It’s a date.”

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[sunmoonandeddie]

don’t forget to sing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,973

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, mention of sickness

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

This was just fucking perfect.

Of course.  Of course you’d move to New York City three weeks before a fucking pandemic.  Cities were a cesspool for illness, and the Big Apple was no exception.

Your dreams of going out and exploring the city and finding little spots that you could call your own now that you were a real New Yorker and not just a tourist anymore were gone.  You’d been so busy unpacking and getting set up at your new job that you’d only gotten to go out for groceries.

And now all of New York City was shut down.  Broadway was closed, for heaven’s sake.  You couldn’t remember a time when that had ever happened in your lifetime.

It was mildly terrifying.  And by mildly, you meant extremely.

Thankfully, your job was primarily online anyway.  You were a playwright and you were basically an intern and assistant for Tony Kushner, possibly one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

But you were lonely.  At least before you were ordered to stay home, you could go out and get a little human interaction at the grocery store, even if the cashier was just telling you your total.  But now, everyone at the grocery store eyed each other warily.  Like you’d infect them with the virus at any second.

Which, it was possible.  It was why you only went late at night in order to avoid most of the crowds.  And also why you’d sewn a mask out of an old t-shirt in order to protect yourself.  And also why you’d stocked up on groceries so you wouldn’t have to go for about two weeks.

“I don’t know,” you said as you held the phone to your ear, wandering back and forth in your tiny little apartment.  Your best friend was on the other side, a thousand miles away.  “It’s getting really bad here.”

And, of course, she could try to understand, but Hope was all the way across the country.  She’d gotten a job in her hometown in California after graduation.  “I think we’re starting to head that way, too.  Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so,” you said, trying to be cheerful as you sat at your desk, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “I’m used to being alone, remember?  I’m a writer.  All I need is coffee and my laptop and I’m ready to hibernate.”

Hope let out a sigh, and you could hear the creak of her bed as she laid down.  “I don’t know.  I just think that maybe you should come out here.”

“I can’t.  I don’t have that kind of money.  And I just got here.  I don’t want to run away at the first sign of trouble,” you said as you opened up your laptop.  “Besides, I’m probably safer here locked away in my apartment by myself than I would be in your big house with you, your parents, and Scott.  Your parents work in a lab with hundreds of other people.  They have no idea if any of them have it.  It’d probably be safer for you to come stay here with me.”

“Me in that shoe box?” She scoffed.  “As if.”

Your laptop whirred to life as you ran your finger back and forth over the mouse pad.  “We talked about this.  You’re a California girl.  I’m New York.”  A smirk settled over your face as you cradled the phone between your ear and your shoulder, typing in your password.  “Two households, both alike in dignity—”

“Jesus, theatre kids are the worst,” she muttered.

You barked out a laugh as you pulled up your latest word document.  “I’m a grown woman, you know.”  You reached over your desk and opened up the curtains, figuring you could use a little change of scenery, even if it was just the apartment building across the alley.  The red brick was illuminated by the setting sun, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold.

There’s a tense pause between the two of you.  There’s a lot of unspoken words.

The both of you know that this is serious.  People are dying and there’s nothing the two of you can really do except hope and stay inside as much as possible and wash your hands.  And this is the first time the two of you have lived apart since your sophomore year of university.  It’s a big change and of course, all this happens right when you’re on your own.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hope asked, her voice cracking.

Taking in a shaky breath, you rest her head in your hand.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be okay.  You just worry about staying healthy yourself, okay?  And take care of your parents.”

Her parents were both a little older, and they were at risk with everything going around.  They’d become your second family in the years since you’d first met Hope, and had even let you live with them for a while after graduation while you saved up for your move to New York City.  Hell, they’d paid for you to come spend school breaks with them.  They were your family.

And now you were all alone with no way to get to them.  Even if you did want to fly, all incoming and outgoing flights were being canceled.  They hadn’t officially announced that they’d be closing the airports, but it was coming.

A light in the apartment across the alley from yours flicked on, and your eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“Oh…,” you breathed out, accidentally cutting off what Hope was saying.

“What?”

“There’s a…  There’s a man.”

“A man?!  We are in a pandemic!  There’s no dating in a pandemic!”

You went quiet as your elbow rested on your desk, your chin in your hand.  “He’s… gorgeous.”

And gorgeous, he was.  He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower, with the towel swung low on his hips.  Dark hair was smattered across his broad chest like some hero on the cover of a trashy romance novel.  He ran his fingers through his long, damp hair as he opened up the drawers of his dresser, picking out boxers and sweats.

“God…  He looks like he just walked off a photoshoot with, like… Vogue,” you said quietly.  Drool was starting to drip from the corner of your mouth, you were so entranced.

“Wait…  Really?” Hope said, her voice rising.  “I need details!  Now!”

Brows furrowed, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  “You have a boyfriend.”

“Who I haven’t gotten to see in over a week.  Scott is the love of my life, but I need to live vicariously through you,” she said.  “The most romance we have right now is when his internet actually works and we get to FaceTime.”

You were in a trance, just watching him move around his room.  “You know how cute I thought Jimmy Woo was?  He was in my Econ class and then we went on, like… two dates?”

“Yeah.”

“I would feed Jimmy Woo to a pack of hyenas if this man asked me to.”

But of course, nothing good could last.  Your elbow slipped off the edge of the desk and your face slammed down onto the wood.  “Oh, my god,” you groaned as you fell to the ground, clutching your mouth.  “Holy fuck…”

Hope was shouting at you through the phone, demanding to know whether or not you were okay.  She was more frantic than you’d ever heard her.

Pulling your hand away from your face, you winced as you saw the dark red blood.  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit…”  You didn’t think you’d knocked out a tooth, thank god.  You were sure that you’d be able to feel that.  “Yeah…  I think I’m okay.”  You started to pull yourself up, glaring at the blood that was on the edge of the desk.

But when you found the Most Handsome Man in the World staring at you from his window, looking just as worried as Hope sounded in his towel, you quickly ducked back down, willing him to go away.  You don’t think you’d ever been so embarrassed.

“Hope, I’m going to throw myself from the Brooklyn Bridge,” you hissed into the phone as you sat on the floor, leaning against your desk.  “He saw me bust my face open!  Or he heard it!”

There’s a pause, and then a snort.  “You have to admit, it’s kinda funny.  And the type of thing that would only happen to you.”

“Gee, I’m so happy you’re having fun with this,” you said.

You stayed down there for an extraordinarily long time, hoping to whatever god was out there that he’d stop looking.  When you finally emerged from your hiding place, you found that he was watching a movie with his bedroom light off, his eyes completely focused on the television.

And there was a whiteboard leaning against the window, messy scrawl in blue marker.

Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad!!  And I’m glad you enjoyed the show ;)

More than a little appalled at how blatant he was, you grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a Sharpie, writing out your reply before sticking it to the window with a piece of tape.

Nothing but a busted lip and broken pride :(

You shut your curtains, carefully cleaning your wound before getting to work on your latest writing assignment.  Though occasionally, you could remember the strange interaction and a smile would creep across your face.

Which would then cause you to wince in pain as the cut on your lip came open again.

Right before you went to bed, you peeked out of your curtains to see if he’d replied again.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what I saw :)  Goodnight!

You quickly wrote out a reply, taping it up before heading to bed.

Pinky promise?  Goodnight!

When you woke up, there was already another note left for you, and the man seemed to be gone.

Good morning!  I hope your lips feel better!

You had no idea when he’d be back or why the hell he’d left.  It was a pandemic after all.

Granted, a lot of people still had to work in this whole mess.  It was ridiculous.

Feeling a little bold, you wrote out a message.

You wanna kiss it better?

But you quickly crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it away.  Despite the fact that you’d seen him almost completely naked the night before, you didn’t know him.  He’d only said three sentences to you so far, and they were written out.

It was the quarantine equivalent of sliding into someone’s direct messages on Twitter or Instagram.

Should you even reply?  He was…  He was the kind of guy you saw on Love Island.  Too perfect and too ripped and sweet and mysterious and friendly, all at the same time.

You’d been getting into a lot of shows you wouldn’t have watched before while quarantined.  You’d watched the entire first season of the American version of the show, and you’d probably start the United Kingdom version sometime that day.  It wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

“Have you written back to him?” Hope asked as you set up your laptop on your desk, pulling up Spotify.

“What?” You asked, your phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder.  “No.  It was a one time thing.  It’s done.”  Before she could reply, you said your goodbyes and hung up.  You really needed to clean and that wasn’t going to happen if you chattered away on the phone with Hope like you usually did.

Music blasted from your laptop’s speaker after you hit play, and you threw open the window, letting the late winter air in.  It had started to get really stuffy in your apartment and you needed something to do other than work and binge watching or you’d go insane.

You didn’t even notice that your neighbor that lived across the alley had come home, and was watching you with a delighted smile on his face.

You were half-dancing, half-cleaning, belting out the lyrics without a care as you got more and more into it.  “Didn’t even know it!  No punches left to roll with!  You got to keep me focused!  You want it?  Say so!” You sang, twirling around with your trash can in hand as you picked up all the various little items.  “Let me check my chest, my breath right quick!  He ain’t ever seen it in a dress like this!  He ain’t ever even been impressed like this!”

Unseen by you, the mysterious stranger took a few steps forward, grateful that he’d left his window open.

“Prolly why I got him quiet on the set like zip!  Like it, love it, need it bad!  Take it, own it, steal it fast!  Boy, stop playin!’  Grab my ass!  Why you acting like you—”  You turned around, breaking off with a squeak as you saw him standing there watching you, your trashcan and an empty mug in hand.  You were completely frozen as he stared at you with a slight smile, leaving you a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of just how awful you looked.  Your hair hadn’t been washed, or your face.  You were wearing a men’s two XL hoodie that you’d stolen from some guy you’d fucked for a few months in college and a pair of sweatpants that you’d had since you were on the middle school track team that were still too long in the feet.  You’d done shot put and discus.

Why the fuck were you thinking about shot put and discus?  You hadn’t thought about it over twelve years.  It wasn’t like you were ever any good at it.

The Most Handsome Man in the World was staring at you, holding a takeout box at a mug of tea.  But at least he was fully dressed, even if that didn’t awake away from how attractive he was.  “Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

“Hi.”  Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you’d never wanted to slam your head against the wall more.  How could you be this much of a fucking loser?

“I like your music choice.  Who is that?” He asked curiously as he set his food on the bed, kicking off his shoes before sitting down.

Yeah, he was definitely just as attractive fully clothed as he was naked, which was truly a feat in itself.  Surely there was some kind of award for that, right?

You realized you’d been staring at him in silence and coughed, replying, “Doja Cat.”

“How’s your lip?”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The two of you stared at each other, him happily munching on the chicken nuggets he’d picked up.  You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m James,” he said after swallowing.  “But my friends call me Bucky.”

You gave him your name as you slowly moved a few steps closer, sitting down in your desk chair and pulling your knees up to your chest.  “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

He chuckled, dipping his next nugget into the sweet and sour sauce.  “My middle name is Buchanan.  My best friend, Steve, started calling me Bucky when we were in kindergarten, and I don’t know… it just stuck.”

“I mean…”  You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her legs.  “‘S alright.  I like James though.”

“You can call me James.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

It felt intimate, somehow.  Calling him by his first name.

The quarantine was forcing people to revert back to Victorian ways of social conduct.  If you were lucky, you’d get your own Mr. Darcy.

But with the sweats you had on, it was more than likely that you’d end up an old spinster.

How did he find it so easy to talk to a complete stranger?  Granted, you were a lot less intimidating than he was.

“How’s your lip?” He asked, his head tilting to the side as he peered over at you.  “You don’t need stitches, right?”

There was an unspoken worry there.  Needing stitches meant you’d probably go without, since all the hospitals were so backed up with those that had fallen ill.  And going to the hospital just meant you’d risk your own health by coming in close contact with those going to get treated for Covid-19.

“If you do, I have a first aid kit I keep here in my apartment with the stuff to do stitches,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “But I wouldn’t exactly be able to come over there to help you.  You’d have to do the stitches yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.  “Why do you have the stuff to do stitches in your first aid kit?  I did see this one episode of one of those crime shows where they used safety pins to hold a gash open, but I can’t remember what show it was.”

Mirth sparkled in his eyes as he watched you.  “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing.  But then you remembered, and your heart sank.  “Oh.  I… James.”

James looked rather sheepish as he looked down at his feet.  “It’s nothing really.  But I can’t use the elevator since it would risk someone being in an enclosed space with me.  So… you know.  I don’t really need leg day, right?”  He let out a weak laugh, clearly trying to blow it off.  “I’m not allowed to use the gym anymore.  Not that I would.  I don’t want to risk infecting anyone, even if I don’t have it yet.”

The way he said ‘yet’ hurt your heart.  He knew the position he was in, how dangerous it was.

There was nothing you could really say to him.  What the hell could you say?  Thank you for your service?  Technically, you could, but you remembered how your dad had felt about it.  He’d been a field doctor over in Afghanistan until he’d died on his fifth tour.

“I was just doing what needed to be done, sweetheart,” he’d said to you when you’d asked.  “Trying to save as many people as possible.  I don’t need thanks for that.”

But fuck.  James was going out everyday to fight an opponent that he couldn’t see.

“My lip is fine,” you said eventually, breaking the silence with a weak smile.

“Good,” he said, clearing his throat.  “I’ll let you get back to your solo concert.  I’ve gotta shower.”

Things went on as normally.  Or, at least, as normal as things could be in a time like that.  Only now, you had someone to talk to that wasn’t Hope every night.

He wouldn’t tell you about what it was like at the hospital though.  He’d get this far away look in his eyes and his face would pale.  “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin,’” he’d croon, a sad smile on his lips.  “You let me worry, and you just keep yourself safe and inside, okay?”

Sometimes you’d miss him.  He’d be at the hospital for days on end, sleeping in on-call rooms and eating from vending machines.  That’s when you’d leave little notes all over your window for him to read when he got back.

But then one day he came home and you could just tell that he was more worn down that usual.

“James?” You called out softly as you pushed the window open.  You hadn’t seen him in two days.  “Are you okay?”  You leaned half out the window, your elbows resting on the ledge.

He took in a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he willed himself not to cry.

“James?”  You’re about to repeat your question when he looks up, staring blankly at the wall.

“Steve has it,” he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Your heart stopped inside your chest.  “Oh.  Oh, James…,” you breathed out.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks, his hands clenched at his sides.  “I went into a room in the ER and there he was.”

You’d heard so many stories about his best friend since childhood that you felt like you knew Steve already.  Bucky had met him when they were just five years old, on the first day of kindergarten, and it’d been history from there.  But Steve had been sickly and small up until they were about seventeen, when he’d undergone some revolutionary clinical trial.  Fixing his heart and lungs had kick started his entire system and it was like everything magically went away.

“Not even that stupid treatment prevented him from getting sick,” Bucky said quietly.  “He looked…  He looked like he was on his deathbed.”

You paused, before crawling out of the window and out onto the fire escape.  “James, take my hand.”

You knew it was stupid.  It was really, really stupid.  He was around those with the virus daily, but he needed you.  You’d risk it to give him a little bit of comfort.

“What?” He said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head.  “No.  No.  I can’t.  What if I give it to you?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said, insistently holding your hand out to him.  “Take my hand.”

Sniffling, he reached his hand out of his window and took yours, your fingers intertwining.  He took in a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears coming on as he squeezed his eyes shut.  “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted after a long moment just holding your hand.  “I’m so fucking scared.  I don’t want to go in there day after day.  I know people need me but I…”  He looked up at you with sea glass eyes.  “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to,” you said firmly, with as much conviction as you could muster up.  “You hear me?  You’re not going to die, and neither is Steve.  We’re going to make it through this.”

“Sometimes I just… hold their hand,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear.  “They’re dying alone.  Their family and friends aren’t allowed in to see them.  So I just… stay with them.  So they have someone there.”  Bucky lets his head fall into his chest, his shoulders slumping.  “And then I have to call the family to let them know.  And I just hope that maybe…  knowing I was there with them helps a little.  But it’s not the same.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, not daring to look down because you’re several stories up and if you lean a little too far, it would result in a trip to the hospital you can’t afford.  You haven’t been outside in days.

You don’t realize that you’re crying right along with him until you taste the salty brine of your tears on your lips.

“We’re going to be okay, James,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.  “This won’t last forever.  And I’m going to be here with you, okay?  No matter what happens.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.”

He squeezed your hand once more before letting go, nodding for you to go back inside.  “Go wash your hands.  Now.”

A smile creeps across your face as you surrender to his wishes, crawling back through your window.  “Yes, sir.”

He’s touch and go the next few days.  Sometimes he seems upbeat, positive even, about the whole situation.  Others…  Well.  He had plenty of reason to be down.

“You know, you’re a pretty good singer,” he commented one night.  He was sitting against the window, leaning his head against the frame.  You had climbed out onto the fire escape again with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.  “That night that I heard you singing to that song…  The Doja Cat one?  You’re good.”  His head tilted to the side in the way that a puppy might.  “Why don’t you sing more often?”

“I used to,” you said after a deep sigh.  “I used to sing a lot.  I was going to be a musical theatre actress.  But I got told so often that I was better at writing than performing so… I don’t know.  I guess I just decided it’d be better to pursue something I was better at.”

His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he looked at you.

You’d never had someone look at you the way he did.  Like he wanted to see all of you, like he craved it, needed it, even.  It was exhilarating.

“That doesn’t mean you stop singing.”  He moved to rest his chin in his palm.  “Even if you don’t become a performer professionally, you don’t stop singing.  Especially in times like these.”

“What?  Like those fake videos of people in Italy?” You asked with a snort.  A breeze wound through the alley and you tightened the blanket around you.  “The one that Katy Perry retweeted?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said with an eye roll.  “My ma used to sing around the house.  Hearing you…  It made me feel like I was home again.  Just for a little while.”  He smiled slyly.  “And you have pretty sick dance moves.”

Groaning, you climbed back into your window, shooting a glare at him.  “You promised not to talk about my dancing!”

“It was cute!”

“Was not!”

“Was to!”

You took in a deep breath as you stared at him with narrowed eyes.  “No,” you said, pointing a finger at him.  “No, it’s not.”  Before he could reply, you started to shut the window, calling out, “Goodnight, James!”  The window shut with a definitive click and you winked as he flipped you the middle finger.

Steve came home three weeks later, completely clean of the virus.  The quarantine finally ended on May 22nd, 2020, the amount of cases down to maybe a hundred that were contained within the hospital.

In that time, you’d gone outside a total of six times to get groceries.  You’d gained ten pounds, even with the basic exercises you were doing in your apartment to keep you active.  You’d also saved up two thousand dollars, since you weren’t going out and you’d put a parental lock on your laptop and phone so you couldn’t go online shopping until further notice, but you were lucky in that way.  You had an extremely well-paying job that you could do online, and your boss wasn’t an asshole.

Millions of New Yorkers flooded the streets, crying and hugging and touching everyone.

You hadn’t been touched in so long.  The last time had been when you’d held Bucky’s hand on your balcony, and that had been the only time he’d allowed it since he didn’t want to get you sick.

He’d been lucky that he didn’t get it himself.  Most of those that had fallen ill were healthcare workers.  Overworked, tired healthcare workers.

You stepped out of the front doors of your apartment building, feeling an overwhelming sense of elation.  You’d already talked to Hope that morning on FaceTime.  Her and her parents were celebrating by going to their favorite restaurant that was allowing dine-in again.

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched the people around you.  It reminded you a little bit of those pictures of V-Day in New York City at the end of World War II.

But where was Bucky?

He’d been at work yesterday, and since you hadn’t seen him, it probably meant that he’d passed out in an on-call room instead of coming home.

But you needed to see him.  You didn’t care if he was all gross and greasy.  You just needed him.

You loved him.

Your eyes locked in on a familiar head of long, brown hair sticking a little bit above the crowd.  He was awful tall.  When he turned his head, it only confirmed it.  “JAMES!” You shouted, trying to break through the roar of the crowd.  “JAMES!”

His brows furrowed, his head turning a little towards the sound of his voice.  When his eyes landed on you they went wide as saucers, his lips forming your name even though you couldn’t hear him over the people.

The two of you pushed through the hordes of people, trying to reach one another.  When you finally broke through, you threw yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck as he twirled you around.  The both of you were crying happy tears, wide smiles on your faces.

“We made it,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “We’re okay.”  You pulled back enough to cup his face, so many words you wanted to say getting caught in your throat.

But before you could say them, he pulled you into a kiss, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip.  Grinning against your lips, he dipped you just a little, holding you tight.  To passerby, it was a remnant of the iconic V-Day kiss.  But you couldn’t think about that.  All you could think about was Bucky.

“Hi,” he said softly as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

Your nose nudged against his as your eyes fluttered open.  “Hi.”

He stole another kiss, your heart skipping a beat inside your chest.  “You better not stop singing now that this is over,” he said quietly as he held you to him, refusing to let go.  “Can’t go a day without hearing your pretty voice.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Your sap.”

“My sap?!”

He had a cheeky smile as he looked at you, cupping your cheeks.  “Does this mean I can take you on a date now?”

You were lucky.  You knew people who got the virus, but none of them had died.  Others didn’t have the same luck unfortunately, and it was a tragedy.  But you don’t stop singing during dark times.  You just sing a little louder.

[the-fandom-queen]

The BAU as students in online school

Derek

-This is the kid whose excuse is always “my wifi wasn’t working”. Its why he’s late to class, why his homework was submitted 2 days past the deadline, and why he didn’t respond to the teacher’s question.

-The thing is: You never know when he is telling the truth and when he is lying.

-Because think about it: there are at least 3 people using the wifi at once in Derek's house (assume that his sisters are in school too). The wifi is bound to be trashy.

-So half the time it really is connectivity issues, and half the time he just woke up late.

-He is also the kid to abuse the late work policy. Turns in 4 assignments throughout the whole semester, but when it is time for final grades to go in, he suddenly has 36 completed projects.

-Teachers hate him but in the end he still gets a B- in the class 

Penelope

-The first thing she did once school started was change her profile picture on zoom to her favorite anime character.

-She zones out as soon as class starts

-She gets away with it though because she is also the tech support for all her teachers

-She’s the kid to do all the daily assignments but refuses to complete the big projects

-Her grades would be higher if she wrote that essay, she knows this but doesn’t care

-She is also the kid who volunteers to be the chat monitor and she makes it her personal duty to read every joke sent, relevant or not

Emily

-Is constantly getting kicked out for not turning her camera on

-When she does turn it on her room is pitch black so you can’t see her

-Uses the ‘record a video of yourself nodding and set it as your zoom background’ trick religiously

-Because of how her schedule worked out she ended up taking PE during online school, the best decision she ever made.

-Sleeps through classes and yet somehow still manages to get a B+

-Teachers hate her, other students envy her

JJ

-She’s trying her best, she really is

-Online school just isn’t for her

-Staring at a screen all day just to stare at a screen some more for homework is killing her

-Despite this, she is more active in class than anyone

-Her camera is on, she unmutes her mic to ask questions, she even asks the teacher how their family is doing

-She also has a really hard time keeping track of her assignments

-3 planners and yet she she somehow missed her government homework

-Her teachers know she is trying so they are more willing to accept late work from her.

-This year would be the hardest she’d ever work for a B- and she would be proud

Spencer

-He hates online school with all his heart

-His school probably allowed students to go back if they wanted but his germaphobia trumped his hatred for zoom calls so he’s online full time.

-He gains no mental stimulation from staying online so he often just doesn’t do his work.

-When he does do it, he does all the work he was missing and all the work due in the next month in one sitting

-His attendance is terrible. Why show up to learn nothing?

-Breakout rooms either give him a place to ramble about the subject at hand or 

-They make him slam his laptop shut.

-Despite all of this, he still gets straight A’s

Aaron

-Turns his camera on because he has to, but will not unmute unless he is forced to

-Not only does he have perfect attendance but he also does CLUBS (yes, plural)

-He’s doing the most and the least at the same time and it still makes everyone else look bad

-He has like 3251 tabs open and is too scared to close any because “What if i need it later??”

-Multitasking KING. Can do 2 separate homework assignments while listening to a lecture and taking notes for a different class.

-(Yet he can’t listen to music and study but that’s besides the point)

-Probably uses his lunch break to help Sean with his work

-He gets 3 hours of sleep a night because the fear of missing an assignment haunts his dreams

Rossi

-The only pandemic i can imagine teenage Rossi living through is the Spanish flu 

[keanureevesisbae]

Coach Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: Amelia sees coach Cavill at Benji’s practice, the day after the pumpkin patch. 

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

‘Oh no, honey,’ I say to Benji, when we’re off the parking lot, ‘I forgot my bag in the car. You go inside and get changed, I’ll be right there.’

Benji simply nods and walks inside, his sports bag thrown over his shoulder, while I hurry back to the car, to grab my bag. My head has all over the place since the moment I woke up and me forgetting my bag in the car, fits exactly in today’s events. I rush back inside and before I can walk around the corner, I hear: ‘Benji, is your mom not with you today?’

‘She is, just getting her bag out of the car.’

‘Right,’ Henry says. ‘Get dressed, okay? Ricky is doing the warm-up today, but after that, we’ll work on your grip and some other things. I saw a few things this Saturday that I want you to improve on a bit more.’

‘Sure thing, coach.’

I have to try not to scream, because Henry freaking Cavill was asking my son if I wasn’t with him today, meaning he must’ve really wanted to see me, right? Or am I reading way too much into this?

I mean, I’m thirty five years old and this stuff shouldn’t make me this giddy as if I was still in high school. Right?

Right?

I walk around the corner, to see Henry in his judogi, his black belt securely wrapped and tied around his hips. ‘Hi Henry,’ I say.

‘Amelia.’ Is his face lighting up? Am I seeing this correctly, thus not reading way too much into this? ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘I’ve got your sandwich with me.’ I rummage through my bag that has been everything but organized today (I’m really a mess) and give him the packed sandwich. I massage my temple when he has taken the sandwich out of my hand.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m having one of those days that everything I do, just miserably fails. It’s a surprise Benji and I made it here alive.’ I let out a deep sigh and say: ‘I’ll just grab a cup of coffee, maybe I’ll feel better after that.’

‘Why don’t I get you a cup, while you go sit on the bleachers?’ he suggests. ‘Want a cappuccino?’

‘That would be great. I mean, I can totally get it myself.’

He shakes his head. ‘Allow me, please. Besides, if I get it for you, it’s free.’ He sends me a wink and I’m nearly one with the tiles, but I manage to keep myself upright.

‘Okay, if you insist,’ I chuckle. I watch him walk to the bar, before I make my way to the bleachers. Benji rushes towards me and throws the roll of tape to me. I somehow manage to catch it with simply one hand.

‘Nice one, mom.’ He plops next to me and I start taping in his ankle.

Henry joins us, with a cup of cappuccino in his hand. He tells me he’ll hold onto it, so I can finish up taping Benji. The two of them start to talk about the things they’ll work on today and after Benji gave me a kiss, he rushes off to join his friends. ‘Here you go,’ Henry tells me and I hear the gossiping mothers behind me audibly gasp.

Yeah, eat that up after you ladies all gossiped about me after the game.

‘Thanks, I really need it. Oh, I didn’t know they did latte art here,’ I note, seeing the heart on my cappuccino.

‘They don’t,’ he says. ‘I made it for you.’

‘Henry Cavill,’ I say with a smile out of disbelieve. ‘You keep on surprising.’

‘I sure do,’ he chuckles. ‘Back in Jersey I worked in a cafe and was one of the best barista’s they had.’ He buffs out his chest, causing me to roll my eyes, but that is more to cover up my upcoming giggles, because I’m flustered.

Call me a thirsty bitch, but I would kill to see a glimpse of his bare chest.

‘Well, I’m a professional cappuccino drinker, so let me see if this is any good.’ I cock an eyebrow, before I take a sip and goodness me, this is delicious! How is this even possible? ‘This… This is wonderful,’ I note, ‘might be one of the best cappuccino’s I’ve ever had.’

He smiles. ‘Well, I can make you a cappuccino every time you’re here. If you want of course.’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Really, thank you.’

‘Not a single problem, Amelia. It’s my absolute pleasure.’

I take another sip and say: ‘You left your pumpkin at our place.’

‘I realized when I got home,’ he says. ‘Okay, I might have left it on purpose, so I had an excuse to visit your house again. It sure is a lot cozier than my place and it feels like a home. Even with the enormous pile of laundry.’

I gasp, as I try to ignore the fact that he left the pumpkin on purpose so he could visit my house again. ‘You promised me not to look.’

‘Couldn’t help it. There was a lot of laundry,’ he laughs. ‘Oh, I was wondering actually: did Hattie stop by today?’

I nod. ‘She did and the three kids whose parents were going to pick them up a little later, absolutely adored her already.’

‘I think she would be a lovely teacher,’ he says. ‘She seems like the patient kind.’

‘Oh, she is. She babysat Isabella and Yara a few times and somehow didn’t need to sedate them. though I told her she could. An absolute angel she is, so I’m really grateful that she’ll be helping me out.’ This cappuccino is finished way sooner than I intended to. ‘Well, I have a deal,’ I say, ‘how about I bring you sandwiches and you make me cappuccino’s?’

‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ Henry smiles at me and looks into my cup. ‘Let me take this,’ he says.

He stands up to walk away, but I grab his sleeve, causing him to halt. ‘Thank you, Henry.’

‘For what?’

‘Everything,’ I say. ‘After this shitty day… This was exactly what I needed.’

Henry smiles and nods. ‘Of course, Amelia. I’m happy to do it.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Benji and I walk towards the car, his arm hooked through mine. He never showers at the centre, but always at home, because he doesn’t want to be naked around everyone and honestly, I totally get it. When I had to share a bathroom with eight other girls back at our dorm in Seoul, I quickly learned that privacy is barely a thing, but it was hard on me the first few weeks.

‘No, no, no,’ I groan, crouching down near the tire, that is really really flat. I really can’t use this today. I actually can’t use this ever, but today seems like the worst day. I nearly pull out my hairs out of frustration and I am willing to just lay on the pavement and not to move, even when cars pass by. I slam the door with my hands.

‘Mom, it’s okay.’

I look over my shoulder. ‘No, it’s not. Everything is going wrong today.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

I shake my head. ‘No, I’m not going to let you fix the tire. Knowing you, you’ll sprain your wrist, or weirdly enough, injure your back. Believe me, I’ve been there. Just… Let me think for a second.’

‘I can ask someone,’ Benji says, placing down his bag. ‘Just wait here.’

‘No, honey, I swear, if you bring back Keaton Johnson’s dad, I’m going to kill you. That man bullied me all the way through high school, but when I got back from Korea, he all of the sudden asked me out and didn’t understand no for an answer. He stalked me for three weeks!’

‘Well, I don’t like Keaton Johnson,’ Benji deadpans. ‘He always pinches me when trying to get out of a headlock and his dad is always really loud, so don’t you worry.’ He sends me me a reassuring smile, before rushing back inside. I open the trunk of the car, trying to look for that spare tire and the other stuff you need for changing a tire. My mom once showed me how to do this, but I injured my shoulder doing so, so that was the end of that.

‘Mom, I brought back-up.’

I turn around and see Benji and Henry walking towards the car. ‘Oh,’ I say and I want to say something else, but the words just don’t come out.

‘Got a flat tire?’ Henry asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘This really isn’t your day now, is it?’ he laughs and I shake my head. ‘Well, I may be a judo trainer, but I also happen to be a knight in shining armor on the side, luckily for you.’

You’re an adult woman, Amelia, please, don’t blush because of this. ‘Then I think you’ve got this covered,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’ll just lean back and let you boys do this.’

‘Have you ever changed a tire, Benji?’ Henry asks, who rolls up the sleeves of his sweater. He is already wearing his normal clothes again, instead of the judogi, making me wonder if he wasn’t going to continue to give training tonight.

‘I haven’t, coach.’

‘Well, first time for everything. You should take off your jacket. It looks new and there is a chance you might get a little dirty.’

Benji hands me his jacket and rubs his hands together. ‘My dad always wanted to teach me,’ he admits, ‘however he never got time.’

‘That,’ I say, ‘and he didn’t know how to change a tire.’

‘Can you change a tire?’ Benji asks me.

‘Well, I did do it once with grandma, only I injured my shoulder, so you, Benji, need to be careful. But, to answer your questions, I can read the instructions online and if I really needed to, I could do this. Why would I do it, when I have two very capable men around me? I think I should just leave it up to them.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Henry lets out a deep breath and gets up, stretching his back. ‘Well, this looks good and please, remember that this will only bring you home.’ Before I can say something about that, he fist bumps Benji. ‘Thanks kid, you’re a great help.’

‘I am?’ Benji asks. ‘I barely did anything.’

‘You did plenty,’ Henry says with a smile. ‘You always do.’

Benji blushes and I pat him on the back. ‘Thanks, coach.’ He loads in his own bag and some other things and says goodbye to Henry, before getting in.

‘You truly are a knight in shining armor,’ I say to Henry. ‘Really, I don’t know how to make this up to you. Somehow you’ve managed to make this day not absolutely terrible. First the cappuccino, then you change my tire and all in that progress, you are the greatest to my son. Are you even real, Henry?’

‘Very real,’ he tells me. ‘And it’s always my absolute pleasure.’ He walks to my car door and opens it for me. ‘Here, allow me, Amelia.’ He holds out his hand and though I roll my eyes, I take his hand and he helps me in my car. ‘Well Benji,’ he says, holding the door in one hand, as he leans against the doorframe with his other, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and hopefully your mom will join us too.’

‘My mom always brings me to practice,’ Benji says, ‘don’t you worry.’

Is Henry blushing and is my son teasing him? ‘See you two tomorrow then,’ he awkwardly says, ‘and remember, Amelia, you have to get that tire checked. This one will just take you home.’

‘I know, Henry,’ I say with a laugh. ‘You’ve told me this four times already.’

‘Shoot, I’m sorry,’ he laughs, ‘just wanted to make sure.’ He clears his throat, before closing the door and I start the car.

‘Mom, are you happy?’ Benji asks.

I look to the side, before I pull up and wave to Henry. ‘Why are you asking that? I’m always happy.’

‘You were happy with dad, but that faded over the years. When we found out about dad and Mindy,’—it’s good to know that Benji hates her just as much as I do—‘you weren’t happy anymore and that broke my heart. During the process of you and dad finalizing the divorce, I missed who you were. I mean, you still put on a brave face for me and Isabella and you were amazing, but… Seeing you smile around someone who is very important to me, that means a lot.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ I say. ‘That is so sweet of you. But, I don’t want to make rushed decisions. Besides, there is nothing going on between me and your coach.’

‘Yet,’ he says, ‘I can see it in the way you two look at each other.’

‘Since when did you become such an old lady?’ I ask him. ‘Goodness me, you sound just like my grandmother.’

Benji laughs. ‘Well, he always asks about you.’

‘We’ve known him for a week, maybe he just wants to get to know your family dynamics a bit more. He is new in town, so yeah.’

‘Mom, do you even believe that yourself?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Anyways, during stretching, he usually helps us and he has been asking some things about you. Like, the types of flowers you like, about your favorite movies and books and how you like your tea.’

Wow… ‘And what did you answer?’

‘Told them you love tulips, but only if they are the same color, that you love every movie with Keanu Reeves in it, that you only read books you can use for class or for your own development and that you like fennel tea.’

My son knows me way too well. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’

‘Because… I don’t want to interfere in my mom’s dating life.’

‘Benji! This is barely a dating life.’

‘What is it then?’

I simply shrug. ‘I don’t know. Remember, I only dated your father. I have no experience in this whatsoever. Benji, honey, I love you very much, but why am I talking about my so called dating life with you?’

‘Because,’ he chuckles, ‘I just want to make one thing clear: if you date my coach, I wouldn’t mind. That’s all.’

‘You’re a weird kid. My weird kid, but still…’

He nudges my shoulder and laughs. ‘Just think about it.’

✰ ✰ ✰

I managed to put Isabella and Benji both to bed and at ten o’clock, I finally have the chance to sit on the front porch. I lean back in the wooden chair and let out a deep sigh, thinking about how the hell I’m going to do that with the tire tomorrow. Johnny has to get to work tomorrow and won’t be back until ten in the evening, Eve has important meetings and has enough time to pick up Isabella and Yara after school, but not to help me with my car and I have to get to work.

I watch a very familiar looking car park in front of the house and Henry gets out of his car, together with Kal, who rushes towards me.

‘Hi, big bear,’ I say to him, as I scratch him behind his ears. ‘I missed you too.’ I look up and smile at Henry. ‘What a surprise visit. I’m almost thinking that you are obsessed with me.’

Henry chuckles, before taking place right next to me. ‘Well, while I was bugging you about making sure you get your tire checked, I forgot that you might be too busy. I figured I’d offer to help out. I can drive you guys to school and take your car to the shop. After that I can pick you up from work. I know that Eve picks up Isabella and Yara, so…’

I smile, as my eyes water. ‘That is so thoughtful.’

‘I’m happy to help and I don’t want you to drive around too long with the spare tire.’

I can’t help but note: ‘You seem to care.’

‘Of course I care.’

I look up to Henry, as Kal places his head on my knee. ‘Henry, I need to say something.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘If I were single and didn’t have two kids, I’d totally go for this, whatever it is between us, but… I have two kids, I have an ex-husband and I can’t drag Benji and Isabella into something I don’t know how it will end.’

‘That is totally understandable,’ he says. Obviously he understands, he is the definition of perfection. Look-wise and personality-wise.

‘I spoke to Benji about it and he was very supportive of it and I know that Isabella will be too, but… I don’t want to rush anything. So, my pace, okay?’

‘I don’t want to rush things either,’ he says. ‘But I do have to say that it’s such an honor to be around you.’

‘Don’t over exaggerate,’ I laugh.

‘I’m not! It’s just that you are so strong and easy to be around with. Guess I’m lucky that I bumped into you in the store, picked up your tampon box, only to see you later again that night.’

‘Oh no, not the tampon box,’ I whine. ‘Can’t believe you brought that up.’

‘It’s okay, it’s just tampons.’ He clears his throat and bumps his knee against mine. ‘Well, you know, I actually watched some of your former group’s music videos and performances.’

‘Oh shoot,’ I chuckle, ‘this is so embarrassing.’

‘It’s not. I quite liked it, actually. It was very catchy. You sure are main vocalist material. I mean, for someone who only was sixteen in some of the performances, you sure as hell can sing. You still do that?’

Those compliments make me blush like crazy and thankfully it’s pretty dark, so no one can actually see it. ��Every now and then. I usually sing in class or with my kids or at Eve’s place as a joke. I also like to overdo the happy birthday-songs.’

‘Well, my birthday is in May, so I think I have to wait awhile before I can hear an exaggerated version of ‘happy birthday’ by the one and only Amelia Jung.’

‘Well, you are always invited to come to Benji’s birthday in January and of course, my birthday in December.’

‘Your birthday is in December? When?’

‘December twenty-first. The first official day of the winter.’

He nods. ‘Well, I’ll wait for my invitation.’

‘You should,’ I say. ‘I don’t like uninvited guests.’ I look up, only to see Henry already looking at me again. ‘Well, about tomorrow, I want to leave here at seven thirty. It’s pretty early, I know, but I have to prepare some things and since my brain was all over the place today, I think I have some fixing up to do.’

‘Then I’ll be here at seven thirty, with a cappuccino for you, in exchange for one of your delicious sandwiches.’

‘Of course,’ I chuckle, standing up and giving Kal a big kiss. ‘See you tomorrow, Henry.’

‘See you tomorrow, Amelia Jung.’