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patscorner · 1 month

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FAMILY DINNER

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, narcissistic dad, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed(NO DETAIL), lmk if I missed something

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"Baby, it'll be fine. I'm sure they're not so bad." Chris spoke. It was 6:45, and you and Chris were heading to a family dinner. After you and him had started dating, him, his brothers, and your family have been begging to meet one another.

But you knew better. You knew your dad couldn't hold his tongue, and you knew your mom couldn't hold back her comments about how you sat, how you spoke, how you looked. You knew your brothers and your sisters knew how to mess with you, not enough to make you cry, but just enough to piss you off.

"Chris, you have no idea." You say, leg bouncing nervously as you both sat in the back seat of the van. You only agreed to go if Matt and Nick came with, knowing that Chris wasn't going to be able to keep his temper in check.

"Don't worry, y/n, it'll be okay. It's not like any of us are gonna provoke them. They don't have any reason to hate us." Matt chimed in from the drivers seat. Chris squeezed your thigh reassuringly.

"It's not you guys that I'm worried about." You muttered, biting your nails. You just hoped your dad didn't have much to drink tonight.

"Plus, we're youtubers, a little back handed comment isn't gonna affect us." Nick smiled triumphantly.

Boy, were they in for a treat.

____

After what felt like 2 minutes, Matt parked the car in front of your childhood home. You've dreaded this moment ever since you and Chris started dating. You knew the time would come, but you just ignored it and pushed it back as far as you could. But eventually, everyone became impatient, and you were pushed out of your comfort zone.

Chris wasn't prepared. None of them were because nothing could prepare them for what they were getting into. Growing up with 2 older brothers, a younger brother, and 2 younger sisters, you knew just how quick it could turn hostile. You knew how it could be peaceful one moment, and the next, 2 people are driving off, 3 are crying, and one is smashing plates.

It could get ugly quick. Mostly, you were able to hide most of your family troubles from Chris, only occasionally giving him bits and pieces. This was completely different. This was a full view of what and where you grew up, and if anything was off or revealed, Chris would be there to see. That scared the shit out of you.

And Chris knew that, so he didn't push, no matter how eager he was. He never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. This, though, meant a lot to him, so he did voice his opinion.

So here you were, standing outside of the home you grew up in, with your boyfriend and his triplet brothers. You take a deep breath before knocking.

Here we go.

You lean back into Chris, who's hand found home around your waist, squeezing gently. He kissed the crown of your head, whispering, "Relax, baby, we got this."

You nod as you hear the lock turn and the door open. Your oldest brother, Peter, who was 26, stood in front of you. He looked much different from the last time you'd seen him, which was like 2 years ago.

Last time you two were together was at Christmas when your dad decided to get plastered the morning of Christmas and destroyed everyone's presents. Thousands of dollars down the drain. You swallowed at the memory.

"C'mere kid." Was all Peter said before engulfing you into a long needed hug.

You melted into your brothers touch. "It's been too long. Way too long." You mumble against his chest.

When you pull away, you see tears in Peter's eyes. You slap his chest playfully, "Oh, you big baby, don't cry."

He laughs, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. You laugh and hold his hand.

Nick clears his throat, bringing your and Peter's attention to the three same face boys.

"Oh! Yeah, Peter, meet my boyfriend, Chris, and his older brothers, Matt and Nick." You say, moving out of the way for the men to exchange greetings and hand shakes.

"I'd like to apologize in advance, I'm definitely gonna have trouble telling you guys apart." Peter laughs.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It happens all the time." Matt reassures. Nick and Chris nod in agreement.

"Okay, well, Dad's at the store - thank God -" He interrupted himself, putting his hands together and looking up, earning a chuckle from you, "but everyone else, excluding Cam, is here."

Your heart drops at his sentence. Your second oldest brother, Cameron, hadn't been to a family gathering since he moved out. You can't say you blame him, knowing your family, you wish you'd had the heart to leave too. It was still disappointing, despite how much you understood. Cam and you had always been the closest growing up, and your heart ached, knowing the rest of your family ruined that bond for you two. You and him were only 2 years apart, him being 22, and you being 20.

You knew you shouldn't have expected him to magically appear, but you were hopeful.

"That's okay. Let's go inside, I want them to meet the rest of the dumbasses." You say, trying to hide the disappointment, and it mostly worked, but when you turned around, you knew Chris knew.

He always knew.

You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, leading him into your house, gesturing Matt and Nick to follow.

Peter leads everyone down the hallway, the sound of playful yelling sounding from the living room. Peter took a left, walking into the room, smiling widely.

"Guess who's here!" He says happily, turning around to you, who stands in the doorway, smiling widely.

James, Maya, and Julia, your younger siblings, looked up and smiled widely.

"Y/nnnn!" Maya yelled, getting up and hugging you tightly. "Woah! Hey, hi baby." You say, smiling into her head.

Maya was the youngest, at 11 years old. She was the peacemaker, no matter how demanding, she probably had the best communication skills out of everyone. Which is saying something, she's 11.

"Alright, alright, save some for us." You look up and see your youngest brother, James, standing next to Julia, waiting their turn for a hug.

You let go of Maya and walk over to the 15 year old twins and embrace them tightly. God, how you missed them. This hug was shorter, only because your mother spoke up.

"Well, finally! What took you guys so long?" She asked, rolling her eyes. You break the hug, sighing heavily.

"Hi, mom. I'm happy to see you, too. Uh, this is Chris and his triplet brothers, Matt and Nick." You say, lifting your hand, gesturing towards the three men.

You smile as your siblings exchange greetings with the triplets, just as Peter did, happy that they were in a good mood. You turn back to your mom, who has a strange look on her face.

"What?" You ask, confused, sitting down on the couch next to her. "I thought you were only bringing your boyfriend? Or are you dating all three?"

Your eyes shoot to hers, a look of disgust covering your face. "What-Mom, no! Matt's talking to someone and Nick..." You cut yourself off, debating whether or not telling you mom about Nick's sexuality. It's not that your mom was homophobic, she just wasn't exactly open to it. You knew that if you told her, she'd figure out a way to make an untimely and out of pocket comment about it.

"Nick...?" Your mom gestures you to continue speaking.

You open your mouth to speak, but you hear the front door open. Oh shit. The party has started.

"Dad's here!" Maya shouts, running to the door. Chris sat down on the couch next to you, Matt and Nick next to him.

You notice Nick talking to Julia about her favorite music artists, and it looks like their having a good time. Peter and Matt seem to be getting along, while Chris and James talk about the most recent Celtics game.

Despite all the calm conversations going on around you, you can't help but feel nervous. Your dad's here, which puts everyone, at least on your side, on high alert, making sure they tiptoe on their words.

Chris notices you tense up and place his hand on your thigh, which you reach and squeeze his hand, not for his sake, but for yours.

Your dad walks in and freezes for a moment. It was a long moment, long enough for everyone to notice his presence and get silent. You and him stare at each other, not breaking eye contact for a minute.

Finally, after the deafening silence, you decide to speak. "Hey, dad." You breathe.

His shocked face turns into a soft smile. "Hey, kiddo, c'mere." You smile softly, cherishing the peace while it lasts. You stand up and walk over to your dad and embrace him. You knew what he was capable of, but you also knew how much he loved you and your siblings.

You could be mad at him all you wanted, but he's still your dad. "I missed you, y/n." He mutters into your head. You smile into his chest because as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him too. When he wasn't drunk or being an ass, he was a pretty awesome person.

You pull away, and he kisses your cheek before gesturing to the audience behind you. "And who are these fine gentlemen?" He asked.

You smiled. "That one's Chris, my boyfriend, and those are his triplet brothers, Nick and Matt." You say, gesturing to the boys, who wave as their introduced.

"Nice to meet you all, especially you, Chris." He smiles sarcastically. Here we go.

Suddenly, his demeanor changed. His shoulders tensed, and his fist clenched. You look at him curiously and wonder what flipped the switch, what pissed him off this time.

Chris smiles kindly. "Nice to meet you, too, sir."

Your dad nods before glancing at you and looking up again. "Dinner should be ready. How's everyone feel about spaghetti?" He clapsed his hands together.

He earns a collective 'yes' from everyone before picking up Maya in his arms and carrying her to the kitchen. Everyone stands up and begins to follow, except for you and Chris. He grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him.

"You okay, ma?" He asked. He must've noticed your demeanor change from happy and cheery to suspicious and confusion.

You nod your head hesitantly, still thinking about how quickly your father changed his mind about being kind. "Uh... yeah, yeah, I'm okay." You say softly.

He looks at you curiously. "Are you sure?" You nod again. "Yeah, let's go eat."

____

Quiet chatter amongst the families began at the dinner table, after everybody had gotten food. You noticed your anxiety seemingly grow stronger as the dinner continued. Nothing had happened yet, and that's what scared you.

Your leg bounced under the table, and despite Chris's attempts to soothe you by rubbing your thigh, nothing seemed to work. Even Chris's touch seemed to be too much, too overwhelming.

You feel your breathing catch in your throat, and suddenly, the gentle chatter becomes too overwhelming. The scraping of the forks echoed loudly in your ears as your hands started to sweat.

You stand up abruptly, catching the attention of all three triplets and James.

"Excuse me." You muttered before rushing to the bathroom and closing the door.

You curl into a ball, breathing heavily as tears fall from your eyes. You weren't having a panic attack yet, but if you didn't get your breathing in check, you'd get one soon.

You list off things in your head, things that make you happy. Sunshine, Chris, dogs in clothes, Chris, Sour Patch Kids, Chris

Speaking of which, you hear the door open, and you force yourself to look up, seeing your loving boyfriend. He got down on your level, taking your hand and putting it on his chest.

You catch on quickly, taking breaths that match his, well, kinda. Yours are shakier, but you're getting there. "It's okay, baby, you're okay. Shhh.." Chris whispers, his other hand rubbing your back.

You sigh as you finally take a deep breath of air, leaning your head against Chris's shoulder as he hands rub shapes on your back.

"It's okay, baby, you're stressing yourself out. It'll be okay." He whispers as he stands up and pulls you up with him.

He embraces you once again as you sniffle into his hoodie. You pull back and wipe your face aggressively, laughing quietly.

Chris cups your face, wiping your tears before pressing a kiss so soft, it was almost ghostlike, on your lips. You smile at him.

"Thank you, baby." You say rubbing his bicep in appreciation. He smiles down at you, kissing your forehead. "Of course, baby. I love you. Are you ready?"

You nod, and Chris opens the door, hand in yours as you all walk back into the dining room. Most conversations continued, but you noticed your dad and mom talking quietly amongst themselves, and it didn't look pleasant.

Your dad's eyes shoot to yours as he chuckles darkly.

Fuck. This can't end well.

"And what the fuck were you two doing?"

You smile, trying to swallow your fear. You notice Chris squeeze your hand, and you squeezed back in reassurance.

"Just had to take a breather. It's all good now, though, don't worry." You say as you and Chris sit down. You hope it's enough to satisfy your dad's curiosity, but unfortunately it's not.

"So you and him didn't just fuck in the bathroom." You freeze. Every conversation stops immediately at those words, as he wasn't quiet about it.

"What- dad, no. Why would you say that?" You sputter as a pink hue comes over your face. You glance at Chris, who's just as shocked as you.

"Sir, I'd never do that, especially here." Chris says calmly, but you can tell that one comment pissed him off completely.

Your dad stares at you both as a silence covers the room like a weighted blanket. Just when the tension seems to reach its peak, your dad speaks up.

"Good. Now, let's eat." He says, passing the food to you.

Jesus, this is gonna be a long night.

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Part 2 is coming soon.

@sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @matthewsmocktailss-deactivated2 @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff

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dumbseee · 11 months

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viral.

f1 au: in which y/n is a famous youtuber who went viral for her vlogs. her personality is what made people like her, but fans notice something strange in her new vlog which made them speculate about a possible new boyfriend.

lando norris x youtuber!reader

fc: nailea devora.

note: english isn’t my first language!

liked by bellahadid, emmachamberlain, francisca.cgomes and 356 987 others.

y/n: new vlog’s out! check it out and leave your thoughts in the comments <3

fan: I MISSED YOU Y/N

fan2: ugh i wish i looked like you

fan3: you’re so perfect

fan4: I LOVE YOU Y/N

fan5: y/n and emma collaboration WHEN

fan6: her vlogs are my safe place fr

liked by yourbestfriend, lilymhe, selenagomez and 688 986 others.

y/n: an angel took these 🤍

lilymhe: miss you!

liked by y/n.

fan1: WHO IS THE ANGEL

fan2: y/n i can’t believe you cheated on me

fan3: WHO IS IT

fan4: WHO TOOK THE PHOTOS??

fan5: lily in the comments… kika liking her recents pictures… i’m connecting the dots

fan6: @.fan5 pls get help

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, francisca.cgomes and 1 799 000 others.

y/n: your girl is happy thanks to that angel <3 (we’ve been hiding that for a year i can finally breath)

fan1: A YEAR???

fan2: NOT MY GF

fan3: i hope lando can fight

landonorris: i can finally brag about you being my girlfriend

liked by y/n.

lilymhe: FINALLY

francisca.cgomes: cuties

fan4: OMG OMG OMG

danielricciardo: about damn time

fan5: THIS IS MY MULTIVERSE

fan6: NOOOO WE LOST HER

liked by daniel.jpg, maxfewtrell, y/n and 567 876 others.

lando.jpg: here’s a little dump of my girl smiling because this is my favorite sight ever.

daniel.jpg: dude you are so going to get beat up for that last slide

maxfewtrell: y/n i have a whole folder full of lando’s embarrassing photos text me if you need any

y/n: @.maxfewtrell oh i’ll definitely need those

y/n: you are SO dead lando norris

fan1: THATS SO CUTE

fan2: « my girl » 🫠🫠🫠

fan3: her smile omg

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flowermiist · 3 months

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A warm heart - II

Click here to check out past chapters if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 3k

A/N: Hii!! I’m really excited for this chapter (as with every other) I’d like to apologize if this took me more time than I intended, work has been quite heavy lately but all the kind comments make me smile soo much. Enjoy!! And please don’t forget to like, reblog and let me know your thoughts about this chapter if you’d like!

After leaving your car at Harrison’s garage, you take an uber home. The mechanic told you it would take about three days to properly fix what was wrong with the engine, you didn’t give it much thought.

You sit in the back seat of the Uber and place your grocery bags on your lap, you sigh and open your purse, seeing the small note with John’s number – It was written on an old receipt the man managed to find in one of the pockets of his jeans, using a black pen you always keep in the glove compartment of your car.

You sink back into your thoughts while looking out the window. You don’t know whether to call his number or not, you sigh and keep thinking, as intense as it might sound, you know that if you call his number and he doesn’t pick up, you’ll be too embarrassed to ever attempt to call him again – You promise yourself that if he doesn’t pick up, you won’t call again.

It wasn’t like you wanted anything other than to thank him again properly for helping you back there. John was nice, yes, but he was still a stranger and you didn’t really know much about him.

You turn your head to the other window and realize you’ve reached your destiny, you pay the grumpy driver and make your way into place.

The charms hanging from the keychain jingle as you open the front door. You sigh and close the door behind you, locking it before you start walking towards the kitchen with the grocery bags in hand as well as your personal bag that has the receipt with the phone number of certain man – you make sure to place the groceries where they belong and you kneel down to the drawers of the counter where you store the bags you used, might come handy anytime.

The tripod is still on the counter where you left it. You check the battery of your camera before grabbing the ingredients for the homemade sourdough bread you’ve been preparing for your next video.

So after washing and drying your hands, you re-adjust the camera to the tripod and begin recording the process, making sure the lightning looks good enough.

When you try to start the small oven to preheat it and have it ready for the bread, it does not respond which makes you confused since last time you used it, which was over a week ago, it had been working – not anymore, apparently.

What is going on? Why is everything you own acting up? First the car now the fucking oven, great.

Not wanting to get pissed any further, you choose to use the oven of your stove which of course, was bigger and would take more time to heat up.

This was going to be a long night for sure.

John finishes putting the clean dishes away, the TV in the background with some History Channel show he was not paying attention to, but it was just the background noise he wanted.

Not particularly interested in what the telly had to offer anymore, he turns it off and does the same with the lights of the living room as well.

John Price has always had a pretty strict rule for himself and for his house, to turn off every light he wasn’t using – except for the old lamp he had in his living room next to the couch but besides from that one lamp, every other room that was not being used did not need any artificial lighting.

As he’s about to walk towards the stairs, the man remembers the laundry he had put in the dryer earlier, he had completely forgotten about it – “Fucking ’ell…” the words escape his lips as he clicks his tongue in annoyance and moves towards the uility room of his house, where the clothes should be.

After opening the small lid of the dryer, John places the clean clothes in the basket, grabs the old iron and the ironing board. He has never liked to leave things to the last minute, never liked to do things in a hurry and do them badly. John knows it’s better to iron the clean clothes now rather than leave them all wrinkly and forgotten.

Placing the ironing board in the living room, he folds out the winkly t-shirt and connects the iron, waiting for it to start producing enough heat and get this shit over with as soon as possible.

Some steam appears and he grabs the handle, making smooth movements with the iron, moving it from from the neck to the short sleeve of the green cotton t-shirt.

Looking back at it, the material is still the same, wrinkly and with obvious creases. John gathers his patience and moves the iron again, using a rough hand to stretch the fabric more and trying to press one of the buttons to make more heat yet nothing happens.

His mind drifts towards today’s events as all he can hear is the sound of the iron against the clothes – Your smile was still in the back of his mind and the thought of the big possibility of you not calling his number crosses his mind. Was he too forward? Would you call?

Without noticing, he moves the iron over his thumb and part of the back of his hand, groaning out in pain loudly as the sharp pain immediately hits him. John quickly grabs his left wrist. “God fuckin’ damnit, old fucking thing!” – Endless insults rumble through his chest, escaping through gritted teeth as the man is scrunching up his face with discomfort looking at the back of his hand where the bright red mark on his thumb throbs.

The smell of burning fabric and steam catches his attention again, looking down at the iron burning his shirt he quickly grabs it and places it vertically, taking a moment to manage the anger rising inside him, his face almost red.

John lifts up the green t-shirt, his gaze darkens as he sees the dark hole over the sleeve of the fabric. “Awesome.” He states with anger and sarcasm as he throws the t-shirt on the floor and unplugs the iron, contemplating smashing it against the wall for a single second but knowing it won’t solve anything.

Breathing through his nose while calming down, he walks to the kitchen sink, gritting his teeth in discomfort as he washes the burning part of his left hand – A first degree burn, nothing he can’t handle.

The basket with clothes ready to be ironed remains forgotten as John grabs one of the aid kits he keeps inside one of his kitchen counters. The man clearly has experience with dealing with these superficial wounds as he loosely wraps some of the bandage around it, covering the red area.

“What a muppet.” He grits through his teeth, directed to nobody but himself.

When you finally finish the video, you look at the clock, it is around 21:30 and you are tired, however; you aren’t too tired to go to bed just yet – and besides that, there’s still something you want to do before going to bed or rather someone you want to talk to.

The bread has such a good smell, freshly baked as you cut a big piece and put some cheese, tomato slices and arugula over it before biting and almost melting at the delicious flavor filling your palate.

You walk towards your bedroom and open the drawer of the nightstand right next to your bed to grab the pack of cigarettes on the second drawer. You were never a smoker but you liked the taste of nicotine on your mouth from time to time, especially after such a long day like this one.

You open all the windows to make sure the smell does not stay inside the apartment, you may like the taste and how the nicotine relaxes your mind but you still find the smell of it sticking to your clothes absolutely annoying.

Walking back to the living room, you grab our purse as the cigarette remains between your lips, the string of smoke and the smell over you now, your eyes open more when you look at the old receipt with the man’s number and smile, grabbing the cigarette from your lips and exhaling the smoke out of you.

At this point, all you are wearing is a pair of gray lacy underwear and a white tank top.

You look at the wrinkled paper and gather some courage before you dial the number and press on the green phone icon to call.

John sits on his back porch, a cigar between his index and middle finger.

His attention is immediately caught when he hears the ringing sound of his phone back in the living room, where he left it before moving to wash the dishes. Who would be calling him at this time of the night if it was not work related?

He grunts as his knees crack when he stands up and walks back inside, seeing the “unknown” contact and quietly staring at the number. Could it be?... No, he does not want to get his hopes up.

“Hello?” A hoarse, masculine voice speaks through the line with a tone full of curiosity and some clear seriousness, you immediately smile, holding the cigarette as sink down on the swing chair of your balcony.

“Hope it isn’t too late.” You say, bringing your hand closer to your mouth and position and the nail of your right thumb between your teeth when you hear a low chuckle. He recognized your voice, of course he would.

“How are you?” The man immediately asks after you stop talking – If you were able to see him, you’d see the way he scratches the beard on his cheek and goes back to his porch, a small smile between his thin lips.

“I’m good…” There’s a small silence before you speak again, keeping the phone close to your ear with your left hand. “Wanted to thank you again for everything, you know…”

John hums in acknowledgement – “No need to thank me, it was quite an honor for me to help my cooking teacher…” Is he flirting? No, that has to be a trick your mind wants to play with you for fun.

“How’s the car, eh? Hope it didn’t stop in the middle of the road.” He slightly tilts his head to the side while speaking, changing the topic rather fast.

“Well… I left it with the mechanic, won’t have it for a few days – took an uber home.”

You could have asked me to drive you home – He wants to say as he takes a puff of the thick cigar between his fingers. Of course, he would not rush into anything. He was still a stranger to you after all and the thought of possibly sounding creepy cringes him.

“Sounds like you had quite the battle then, with all those grocery bags?” His tone makes you chuckle and that gives him some relief yet he doesn’t want to think much of this call for now.

“I did, actually. Came home and filmed my next video.” You say, forgetting about the cigarette between your fingers and you move your hand away from your face.

“Mhm… Next recipe then?”

“Yes.”

“May I know ’bout it?”

“Nope.”

John chuckles quietly and it makes you smile.

“It’s a surprise...” The calmness of your voice is clear and it resonates in his ears.

“I don’t mind waiting then.” His voice is just as calm as yours.

There’s a comfortable silence through the line when the question pops out and you decide to ask it, to learn more about him.

“You said you had experience with changing tires.”

“Indeed.” John responds, giving you silence of his own for you to speak.

“Well, you got me wondering if you were actually my mechanic in disguise.” It lights up the mood a little bit when you hear a breathy smile. John grins before replying.

“I could be, you never know…”

“Where did you get the experience?”

He thinks of his answer...

“Different places ’round the world.” It’s vague and definitely not enough for you to figure him out completely and you are eager to do so.

A hum sounds through your throat, you take a drag of your cigarette and exhale. Not keeping the smoke inside for too long.

“You travel a lot?”

“Quite a lot, yes.” His voice is still calm. John is pondering whether he should say more or leave it at that, he is not the most open man when it comes to his line of work.

“Business men travel a lot.” The suggestion arises in the air when your words are spoken.

“They do, don’t they?” The sarcasm he uses answers absolutely nothing, he’s messing with you and you can clearly tell he finds it funny.

“Maybe you’re a famous lawyer traveling from one boring conference to another…” Another one of your suggestions.

John can’t help but grin a little at your response – “No, nothing like that.”

“Doctor?”

“No, not that either.”

You sigh, you won’t deny this is entertaining but you were getting nowhere so you give it one final try – “Well... They say military men travel a lot... Are you one of them?”

“Correct.” A calm voice replies and you try not to cheer loudly at finally guessing a part of this man’s life.

“So you’re in the military?” You want to make sure you’re right, even if he was clear and brief.

“I am.”

The line goes quiet before you break the silence.

“Explains a lot then.” You try to sound unimpressed as you shrug and it does get to him because now he’s curious.

“Does it?” He moves the cigar to his lips again, taking a puff and looking up at the dark sky.

The phone call hides the teasing smile painted over your lips. “Yeah, you look it.”

Before John can question your words any further, you change the topic.

“I’m pretty sure there are evil gnomes messing with my stuff.”

Your words don’t fail to impress him as he exhales smoke through his nostrils.

“You believe in that stuff?” The thick british accent and his raspy masculine voice could not be more noticeable as he tries not to sound rude while making fun of your possible beliefs.

A chuckle escapes your lips and you pretend to act offended by his selection of words “And what if I do?” A brief pause – “First my car then my oven…”

It catches his attention, John tilts his head like some curious dog and keeps the phone pressed against his ear.

“Did the secret recipe go wrong?”

“Well, almost.” You sigh and elaborate. “So I got this… smaller oven, easier to use compared to the bigger one that comes with the stove but as I tried to preheat it, it stopped responding.” “I’ll have to get a new one tomorrow.”

With a sigh, you get up from the swing and get closer to have a view of the street under your building, you take another drag of your cigarette as you place your elbows on the frame of the balcony, feeling the cold breeze embrace your exposed thighs and caress your almost naked arms, moving your hair with it.

“Could help you look for a new one.” The same husky voice sounds through the speaker of your phone. John’s eyes dart around his back yard, a man like him is never fully off guard. No matter where.

“You’ve already helped me enough… I- don’t really want to bother you.” There’s some embarrassment in the tone you use, looking up at the dark night sky while exhaling a slow – thin string of smoke out of your lips.

The man gazes at his bandaged thumb then at his fingers holding the cigar.

“Wouldn’t mind a shopping expedition, could use one m’self.”

This catches your attention, curiosity enters your mind. “Yeah?”

John won’t admit the fact that he burnt his hand with the old iron because he was distracted, he would rather lie that sound like a fool.

“Got this old iron at home, burnt my bloody hand while trying to use it, burnt my goddamn t-shirt too.” Some embarrassment makes the british man scrunch up his face, he doesn’t want to sound like a potty mouth.

He clears his throat before continuing – “Would be good to kill two birds in a stone, ya get your oven and I get my iron… Some advice could be useful too – ’bout the iron, ’course...”

A small smile escapes your lips as you reply to the man on the line - “Sounds like a good plan then...”

“Sounds like it.”

“Could drive you to the store with me if that’s alright.”

Right, you haven’t thought about how you’d get there.

“Will need one.” Of course you will, dummy, You don’t have your car with you – Says that little voice within your head, the one that tries to prevent you from saying too much.

His deep voice is heard again through the speaker of your phone. “Right, no problem.”

John replies, his tone monotone and casual about it which you’re thankful for.

“What time can I pick you up at? Got all day.”

“I get out of work at five, a friend will drop me off at home… Is six too late for you?”

“Don’t worry ’bout it, six ’s fine.” John says calmly and you smile.

“I’ll text you the address then.” You sit back on the hanging chair as the wind moves your hair and you squish the head of the cigarette against the ashtray placed on the small glass table of your balcony.

“Six it is then.” That voice rumbles through his chest and without even knowing you just put your cigarette away, he sticks the head of the cigar against the wood of his porch, leaving a small mark, putting his own cigar away almost at the same time as you.

“Good night, John.”

“Sleep tight, Y/N.”

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard @blckbrrybasket @shuttlelauncher81 @thychuvaluswife @airzonaaa @mamanmae @cadotoast @ateliefloresdaprimavera @heyitsmarimari @markitvz @live-love-be-unique @syoddeye @hyriefortuno (Let me know im the comments if you’d like to be added! Dm me for removals! ♡)

#captain price #john price #call of duty #john price x reader #cod #cod mw2 #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod x reader #writing

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foxyyaoguai · 10 months

Text

The antis have been all over my posts in the last few days, so I wanted to share my experiences and write a guide on how to deal with them.

First off: Our ships and character preferences are valid, no matter how hard some people try to demonize them. We are part of fandom and allowed to post about the things we enjoy, just like everyone else. Our fanfics, fanart, video edits, photo edits, etc. are all works of love and they deserve to exist and be explored by others.

✨ Strategies for dealing with antis ✨

Don’t engage. I have checked the bios of all the antis that left comments under my posts, and the majority of them are minors. You don’t want to talk to minors in fandom spaces!! And a conversation based on logic or reason won’t be possible either.

Delete their comments. Tumblr, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube allow you to delete comments, DO IT!! You created something with love and hateful comments have no place underneath it. Even if the comment just makes you uncomfortable and isn’t outright hateful, it is perfectly reasonable to delete it for your own sanity.

Block generously. Not only the people who target you specifically but also anyone who engages in character- or ship-bashing. People who do that for one ship will do it for other ships too and it’s extremely bad fandom etiquette. When you see a character or ship-bashing post, block everyone who liked it and then the poster.

Report people for harassment. The rules vary by site, but especially threats of violence should be reported. Also, if someone follows you to another social media site after you’ve blocked them, that is called block evading and you should report that too.

When you see other people getting hateful comments underneath their posts, leave a nice comment to offset some of the negativity. Your being supportive can make the difference between this person never posting again and them being motivated to keep going. People are always welcome to send me links to a post that is getting targeted by antis and I’ll like it and leave a nice comment. 🥰

Don’t let the bad comments outshine the positive ones! Every time my post gets enough traction for antis to find it, it also gets lots of lovely reactions. Many people have told me that my content and recommendations made them ship my OTP, and that is the single thing that makes me happier than anything else. Take a screenshot and look at these kinds of comments when you feel down. This is the real reason you should keep posting.

Most hate comments are exceptionally uncreative. It helps to laugh about it, preferably with a friend. ✨ Remember, you used your energy to create something and you should be proud of it!

When you see a creator you like, but they also display obnoxious behavior towards people who like other ships, characters, or dynamics, at the very least don’t give them a platform by sharing their posts.

Stay safe. Don’t post personal information online.

It’s completely valid to step away from social media for some time. Private your accounts, turn off notifications, do a canon reread, read some fanfics in peace. Whatever it takes to remind you why you love the things you love.

Bonus Tip: Watch videos of cute animals to destress. Bunnies nose-booping each other can (and will) cure anti-induced anxiety. :)

✨ Platforms sorted by least to most toxic and my advice for using them ✨

1. Discord

Discord is great because you can join servers specifically for your favorite characters and ships. If a server doesn’t already exist, consider setting one up! Pro tip: only invite people that have positively interacted with you in the past. A small server consisting of nice people is a lot more fun than a large server consisting of members that can’t get along or are only marginally interested in the topic.

Fandom Discord servers have clear guidelines on what you can post. As long as you follow the rules, people have no grounds for calling you out. In my experience, moderators are quick to respond to harassment.

When you join a server and you see they heavily restrict certain types of content, it is a red flag. Proceed with caution, even if you plan to only talk about “safe” characters and ships.

2. Tumblr

I have rarely gotten hateful comments on Tumblr, and the few times I did they were easy to delete.

A lot of the older fandom generations use Tumblr and they are more mature and accepting of all kinds of content.

3. Twitter

Twitter makes it easy to curate your own fandom experience. You can mute words you don’t like to see on your timeline, mute and block users, and most people have their ship preferences in their bio.

4. Instagram

My Instagram posts about Jadecest get a lot of positive interaction, even more than on Twitter. There are unpleasant comments once in a while, but they are easy to delete.

Blocking a user will delete all their comments from your posts.

5. YouTube

People who don’t like your ship will downvote your videos and downvotes lead to the algorithm not recommending your videos.

I have gotten a few negative comments, but they are easy to delete.

6. Reddit

When you post in a fandom subreddit, everyone will see the post, independent of their ship preferences.

There are a lot of minors on Reddit.

You can’t delete comments.

Most fandom subreddits are poorly moderated.

7. TikTok

I have gotten the most hate comments on TikTok. They can be filtered or deleted, but antis interacting with your video by leaving hate comments will lead to the algorithm recommending your content to even more antis. It can get very ugly.

If you post on TikTok consider turning off comments, stitches, and video replies. You can also mark your content as 18+, so it won’t get recommended to minors. (Again, antis tend to be underage.)

Platforms are more toxic the more they show your content to people outside your bubble. Discord, Tumblr, and Twitter keep your content relatively well contained to your circle of friends. Reddit, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram heavily promote your content outside your bubble, which is good, because more people are going to see it, but also bad, because it reaches more antis.

~~~

Antis are loud and obnoxious, but it’s important to remember that they are a minority. Ship and let ship still exists, especially among the people who have been in fandom spaces for more than just a few years. Don’t be afraid to post your content and express your love for your favorite characters and ships! I, for one, would love to see your creations, and many other people would love to see them too.

What are your experiences and strategies for dealing with antis?

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seospicybin · 1 year

Text

ONE CLICK.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Han has a habit of stalking you online and wishes to get to know you in real life. He finally gets his wish after one night of accidentally sliding into your DM. (8,6k words)

Author's note: a big thank you to my baby @hyunee1 for helping me with this fic. Love you much much 😘

Click.

That's how Han usually ends his tough day of busy schedules, sitting on his bed with the bluish glow of his phone in his dark bedroom, clicking on everything about you.

His eyes move up and down trying to catch the speed of his finger scrolling the page of your Instagram, there's a new series of pictures you posted this afternoon. He guesses he missed the notification, and he automatically double-taps it without thinking, as he always does.

He swipes to see all the pictures of you having a day out in sunny weather, a picture of your lipstick mark on your coffee mug, your hand petting a puppy, of you looking out at the mountain view in distance, another two of your self-portraits of that cute smile he likes so much and on the last slide is a picture of a colorful kite against the clear blue sky.

The caption says ''you’re a kite that toys with my heartstrings."

Han recognizes the lyrics to a song, he goes to the comment box then types the continuation of the lyrics, "but it won’t fly cause I’m too fickle, what do I do?"

He hits send and smiles in satisfaction, knowing that you wouldn't recognize him since he's using a secondary account with a made-up name, he can't be too careful in this kind of thing.

He swipes the pictures to the second slide of your selfie, where he can see the crinkles in your eyes that get him wondering if you're just as beautiful in real life or more, he bets it's the latter.

He unconsciously double-taps the Instagram post again, it's already in his default he believes.

He moves on to the other social media you have, Twitter, to see if you share any TMI for today just like you always do. A piece of information that seems to be useless to everyone else is a piece of treasure for him, it’s a step closer to getting to know you better.

"I'm having plums after a long time, they're so sweet and I think it's my new favorite fruit."

You posted the tweet along with a picture of ripe-looking plums in a bowl and another one of you holding the fruit close to your cheek, he can see the resemblance in the way the color of the fruit matches the blush of your cheeks.

Gah! He wishes he can touch those cheeks and feel how soft they are, he's going a little crazy thinking if he could kiss them. He laughs for making himself flustered out of the blue, not to add alone in his bedroom.

He hits the like button and switches to your fan account to check new updates about you, he trusts the information he get from your fans rather than the ones he can easily access on the internet because they're mostly clickbait or fake news, he knows that better than anyone.

There are new photos of you attending a fashion event, you in that white dress with a high slit on the side, revealing just enough skin but at the same time, making him want more.

He zooms in on each picture and touches the phone screen like he could feel you physically by doing it, something is undeniably attractive about you that keeps pulling him in.

Sometimes he wonders if you're real and if you are, is it possible for him to reach you? Meeting you? Talk to you? See your cute smile with his own eyes?

To convince him that you're real, he exits Twitter to access another app.

Truthfully, he specifically made an account for stalking you on whatever social platform you have on the internet, it's the only time he's free to be his honest self, which is a fool for you.

He opens YouTube and one of your vlogs is making an appearance on his homepage, he goes to your channel to see if he missed any new uploads from you. The last one you uploaded is a week ago, he scrolls down to watch the one he always comes back to, the one that kickstarts this obsession of you.

There was nothing special about it, he stumbled on your vlog one day and he didn't know why but he watched it to the end, it somehow fascinated him, how you slowly lured him to keep on watching

There's just something about you, it's your bubbly personality or how you keep your attitude real and let everyone knows it's just how you usually act in real life.

Han met so many people in the industry he works in, he knows when someone is true or fake, and he can tell it now just from a glance.

But you, you're your authentic self, there's no pretense. He doesn't care if people say it's a biased view but he stands his ground.

He casts the video to his TV and hits the play button, the vlog starts with the opening sound that he recognizes too well, your laugh.

You went for a weekend away to a beach and the opening scene is of you waking up in the middle of the night, talking about how you like hearing the sound of the waves while clutching the blanket close to your chest.

It makes him daydream about you a lot, what it's like if he gets to lay next to you and cuddle you under the cover. It’s a wishful thinking but he can't help himself.

The scene changes to the view of the beach and you running around in the sand, there's one scene that he can vividly play in the back of his head without watching it. You look out at the sea from the pier, the wind blowing your way and the short skirt you're wearing swaying away with the wind.

He has a thing with you in short skirts or maybe this thing started from seeing you wearing this specific piece of clothing a lot in your pictures.

He keeps it to himself, he only allows himself to daydream only good things about you and doesn't want to ruin it with his lewd thoughts

Next thing he knows, he waves back at you as you waved your hand at the end of the video before it cuts to a black screen. Fourteen minutes of video is not enough.

Frankly, admiring you virtually like this will never be enough, he wants to go to you and meets you in real life.

But a man like him can only dream, right?

He wakes up with a smile to a new notification of your new Instagram story.

You're having coffee with a few different kinds of pastries for breakfast.

"I love sweets so much, what should I do?" You wrote on the post.

He types a reply in the message box,

"Then let me buy as much sweet as you want!" He writes then presses send without the slightest of hesitancy. He had done it a few times, responding to your Instagram stories with messages like that or just a simple 'goodnight' or 'you've worked hard today' to show his admiration to you.

Han never knew that someone he knew through social media would affect him this much, just seeing your pictures is enough to take his mind off things, and watching your video is how he unwinds after a tiring day.

It comes to the point that he misses you and when he does, he'll click on you.

On good or bad days, sober or drunk, he always finds time to click on everything about you.

In fact, he's drunk of out his mind when got home tonight. He crashes onto the bed without taking his shoes off first, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket, and clicks on you again.

There's a new Instagram post from you, three pictures of you having a night out at an event and it's just like you know how much he likes seeing you in it, you're dressed in a leather mini skirt and paired it with a flimsy white top that people can see through the fabric, exposing the lacey corset you're wearing under.

He keeps hitting the like button as he's staring at your pictures.

"Are you wearing that skirt for me, baby?" He speaks to his phone screen.

He brings his phone close to his face to take a closer look instead of zooming in on your pictures, "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

He puts his phone on his chest and lays there with his eyes closed, intoxicated.

"Fuck..." he sighs at the dark of his room, forgot to turn the lights on the way to his bed.

"I can't take this anymore!"

He lifts his phone and clicks on your Instagram profile, he opens the direct messages he sent to you which come to no surprise to him are left unread.

He snorts as he scrolls up and down all the messages he sent to you, he sounded like a love fool and he admits he is.

"I'll let you know, baby, I'll let you know..." he says as he starts typing new messages, pouring out all of his thoughts and letting them unfiltered.

All it takes is just one click, one click and you'll know.

Han has been chugging water nonstop the whole morning to wash the alcohol in his system.

He has a schedule today, a performance at an award show and he's sober enough to do his job, he's just feeling a little queasy, that's it.

It's not easy though, he feels like dying after finishing rehearsal and he swears to never drink again, maybe he'll eventually do but maybe not try not to drink alcohol the night before a performance.

The other members start chattering when they bump into someone after getting off the stage from rehearsal, he wonders who it is that makes them all collectively swoon.

He feels like shrinking when he sees that it's you or he wishes he could shrink into a microscopic size when he realized that he's not well presented, his hair is sweaty and his eyes are bleary, the hangover drawn on his face.

And you, you're looking nice even in the casual attire of blue jeans and a black shirt with your hair down.

This is not how he pictured meeting you for the first time would be like. Heck! He didn't even dare to dream of meeting you in real life.

He decides to hide behind his members, out of your sight and out of existence. He hears your voice as you give encouragement for today's stage and excuse yourself to get to your rehearsal.

"Good luck for today!" You say for the last time and someone takes you away.

Back to the waiting room, he goes to his phone and opens your fan account, he misses the update about you going to attend the same show with him tonight.

You also post a new Instagram story, 'rehearsing for tonight' you wrote on it along with a smiling emoticon.

It's like he is programmed to respond to anything you post, he types an encouragement for you, 'you'll do well tonight!'

He closes the app but for a second, he notices something on the messages he sent you. He reopens the app and goes through the DM between you and him, his breath caught in his throat when he sees the long messages he sent to you last night.

His eyes skim over some parts but he can tell how inappropriate they sound, he must have lost it last night to ever let you know his unfiltered thoughts about you.

And that's not the worst of it all, he scrolls down to the last message he sent, and below it, there's a little sign that says 'seen'.

It's like his soul has just left his body at that very second, his phone drops onto his lap and he leans back on the sofa, empty eyes looking at the ceiling, his mind blanks, and his mouth got dry.

How are all of these happening in a span of a few hours? Is it real? Is he in a dream? He can't tell which is which anymore.

All he thinks about is the messages he sent you and the fact that you know.

Now you know.

Han succeeds in not meeting you again during the show but when he learns that they have to attend the after-party, he dreads his life again.

It's exclusive just for the guests of the show and that means he'll be in a smaller place, in one room with you and the possibility of meeting you is bigger.

He keeps himself on alert for any sight of you, it's funny remembering how he wanted to meet you but now he wanted the opposite.

He shouldn't be afraid because he interacts with you online in incognito. You don't know that it's him, you probably think that it's just a stupid teenager who's obsessing over you at home and not him.

He keeps reminding himself that but he just can't calm himself down, his foot bouncing the whole night out of nerves.

He secludes himself in a quiet corner of the hotel ballroom and gulps down every glass of champagne that the server passing around on a tray.

He's buzzed enough to dull his mind and calm his nerves, he doesn't know if it's better to get drunk again.

"You need one more?"

He almost jumps in shock and he's aware of how rude he is for reacting like that to you, you come out of nowhere and offer him a drink.

"I'm sorry, I-I..." his mouth got dry again and he stammers his words.

You softly laugh, "I'm sorry if I disturb you," you say.

He hurriedly takes the glass of champagne you offer him before you think that you did intrude on his space, you didn't but he did been trying to avoid you.

He grips the champagne flute so hard that he swears he can hear the glass starts to crack or it's just his imagination and he's right, he knows he's right that you're much prettier in person.

Your eyes crinkle even in the dim of lights and you smell so nice, like a slice of cake or of that dessert you like so much, creamy and nice and... sweet.

You take a small sip of your champagne, "I've been wanting to talk to you the whole night," you begin.

The fear starts to creep in again and he can feel sweat forming on his back. He keeps swallowing air as if trying to keep the truth from coming out.

"It's just now that I get to talk to you," you continue with a smile.

That sweet smile dazzles him and he blinks his eyes a few times to imprint that in his mind.

"I wanted to—"

Oh no? Do you know that it's him? Should he come clean about it before you lay out the fact?

His foot bounced faster, his mouth got drier and the champagne flute is about to shatter in his grip, the beads of cold sweat rolling down his back and...

"I'm sorry I sent you those messages!" He blurts out with his eyes closed, too embarrassed about the reality he has to live in right now.

"Huh?"

"I was drunk... I-I wasn't thinking straight, I was... I didn't know why I send those messages, I only realized it this afternoon after meeting you during rehearsal," he starts blabbering, knowing well his excuses won't cut for an apology but it's just the truth.

He heavily sighs and tries again, "I deeply, deeply apologize to you!" His face drops, looking down at his feet and feeling so frustrated over himself.

You got quiet for a while then clear your throat, "but I was about to say that I like all of the songs you wrote..." your words trail off as the knowledge registered to you.

He looks up at you with eyes widening in pure shock, oh no, he just made a fool of himself. Why did he crack so easily like that?

He knew that you wouldn't know but now you know because he blurted the truth like that.

"W-what?" He stutters in disbelief while his hand groping around to find something he can hold on to.

You probably think that he's a weirdo or a pervert or a combination of both. You must be disgusted by him, right? You must be...

Then you crack a laugh then say, "oh, so it's you?"

His brain is malfunctioning, he's losing control of his own body and all he can do is stare at you, hoping that he's invisible to you now.

"You're the one who sent me those messages," you say but in an intrigued kind of way rather than a disgusted one.

You put your champagne glass and place your hand on your chest, cracking another laugh at him, "you're one of my followers?" You ask in disbelief.

He is unable to speak yet but he manages to order his body to nod.

"Oh wow, this is so... unexpected!" You exclaim with a grin.

Wait, this reaction is unexpected to him as well. Aren't you supposed to be getting as far away from him as possible and wish to never see him again?

You take your champagne again and finish it in one long sip then gasp. There's a silence going on for a few seconds and you take a step closer to him while holding the empty wine glass in your hand, "so..."

His breath hitched and he holds his breath, afraid that the scent of your sweet perfume will enchant him.

"It was you who sent those messages?" You ask for confirmation.

Han nods repeatedly while keep holding his breath as if he's underwater.

You look away and sheepishly smile, your teeth faintly biting your lower lip.

He's turning blue from holding his breath and when you put the empty glass away is when he finally lets himself breathe. He should start speaking now before things get worse, "I apologize for—"

"Will you really do all that to me?" You cut him off with a provoking question.

He blinks his eyes, nonplussed. He has the answer but he's not sure you will accept it well.

"Buy you as much sweet as you want?" He wildly guesses to save him from making another mistake.

You laugh again from hearing his response, "you're really cute," you say to him.

One compliment is enough to get him flustered and that laugh of yours charms him well, it works to relax him a little.

"Do you have your phone with you?" You ask.

Just like you cast a spell at him, he quickly obeys you, groping his body for his phone, and takes it out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

You take it from him and add your phone number to his contacts, then hand it back to him after.

"You have my number now," you inform him.

"Okay," he shortly replies because he doesn't know how to answer that. His brain is still malfunctioning at the moment.

You laugh again, it's just how clueless he is at the whole situation that makes him awkwardly cute like a lost little puppy.

Your manager finds you at the right time, "we have to leave," she says to you.

"Alright," you answer and gather your purse from the table.

You stay for a while after your manager leaves and come up to him, "before we do anything else I hope you know what to do with my number," you say.

You leave him there, star-struck and in awe.

He needs time to process what just happened to him in the last 24 hours but he knows what to do with your number.

"A+ for the eagerness!"

You say the moment you pick up the phone call from him.

Han doesn't want to play cool and make you wait, that's not what he wants. You know how much of a fool he is for you so what the use in playing hard-to-get? Plus, he's in no position to do that.

That's why he calls you as soon as he gets some privacy in his home.

He's all relaxed now that your reaction is far from what he pictured in his head, knowing that you're not grossed out by his filthy thoughts making him feel at ease.

He thinks of something cool to say but his head is empty except for the heavenly smell of your perfume.

"Hi," he awkwardly says to the phone.

Then there's that giggle again, he's addicted to the sound of it already.

"I'll be away for three days and be back on Thursday but I'll be tired by then so Friday?"

It's not that he's not experienced in dating, he dated someone before but that was a long time ago and he didn't have time to do all that again between his busy schedules, now he's just as inexperienced as his teen self, having zero ideas with what you meant by that.

"Friday?" He asks back in confusion.

"Before you get to do what you wanted to do to me, shouldn't you take me on a date first?" You give him a clearer context.

He finally gets what you're saying, you want him to take you on a date. He tries to memorize his schedule and checks the calendar if he has anything on that day, he needs to do some work in the studio but he believes he can finish it earlier.

"Friday afternoon?" He asks again.

There are a few seconds of silence going then he hears a rustle from your end, he's imagining that you're talking to him on the phone while lying on your bed.

"Friday afternoon is fine with me," you finally reply with a low sigh.

It makes him feel like he's there with you, lying next to you on your bed. Without he intends to, he lays down on his bed with his eyes closed, and with the sound of your low breathing he's listening through the phone, it helps him paint the imagery vividly in his head.

Your eyes, your smile, your blushing cheeks, and your sweet-smelling perfume...

"I have to go now, I'm tired," You cut through the scene and shatter his imagination.

He takes a breath to knock some sense back into him that no matter how much he wants to keep talking to you, he can't keep you occupied just to fill his selfish need of hearing your voice.

"Okay."

You softly sigh into the phone, "Goodnight!"

"Sleep well, goodnight!" He says back.

Then you hang up the phone and the call-ending tune reels him back to the reality, that he's alone in his room with the lights off.

That doesn't change the fact that he has become the last person you're talking to before you go to sleep. He's not sure if he'd be in your dream but you'll be in his tonight.

Han finishes as soon as he can.

But he's not good at rushing things that he finished a bit longer than he intended to, he picks up some food on the way.

He doesn't want to risk being spotted by people by having a date out, he hesitated a lot when he asks you if it's okay if you're coming to his place instead.

He doesn't want to give the impression that he's forward about what he wants, but he's glad you understand his good intention.

He stares out at the rain outside as he's waiting, letting the coffee grounds sit for a few seconds after he pours hot water over and let it drip.

The sounds of the raindrops pattering against the window and the smell of coffee relaxed him, despite he has been nervous since last night, frankly though, he has been for the last few days since he spoke with you on the phone.

Then the doorbell rings and his heart skip a beat.

He gathers all of his senses, promised to not make a fool out of himself this time, then opens the door.

"Hi!" You say the second you appear in front of him.

It still feels like a dream to him, seeing you in flesh and with his own eyes, breathing the same air with you in his apartment.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

He snaps himself out of his daze and opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you in, "come in, please!"

You flash him a smile as you walk past him, letting yourself into his apartment and taking a look around the place. You put your purse and take your cardigan off, place them on the sofa.

"You live alone?" You ask.

"Yeah," he stands there a safe distance away from you.

"No pets?"

"I have a dog but he lives with my parents since I rarely home," he answers.

You nod and turn around to see him, "it's a nice place," you say with a smile.

He feels good about himself, he did a good job at tidying up the things around his place in one night. He hides his triumphant smile and remembers to offer you a drink.

"Coffee?" He offers.

You notice that he's been brewing coffee in the kitchen, "yes, please!"

He walks to the kitchen, "with ice or...?"

"With ice, yes!" You reply.

You're following him to the kitchen to watch him prepare an iced coffee for you.

"Drip coffee?"

He sheepishly smiles at you for noticing it, putting ice cubes into the glass before pouring in the coffee.

"And that's the same coffee I always drink," you say with a raised eyebrow.

Han doesn't mean to show off, he just wanted to make sure that he provides you with everything that you like. Your favorite coffee brand and how you like drip coffee which reminds him that he bought that sweet you like so much.

He takes it out of the fridge and takes out the box of macaroons, he bought all the flavors you like and serves it with the iced coffee.

You look at it then look at him and shot him an impressed smile.

"Of course you know," you say with a smile as you take a sip of your coffee with a straw.

Flustered, Han scratches the back of his head and looks down, "the store happened to be on my way home so..." he vaguely explains.

"As far as I remember, they don't have any branch near here nor your agency," you casually say.

Uh oh! He just got caught lying to your face and doesn't know how to save himself from it.

"That's so sweet of you!" You praise him out of the blue, again giving him the opposite reaction to what he expected.

He looks up at you, finally able to see your eyes to eyes and you're glowing under the fluorescent light. He sees you taking one of the macaroons.

"You should try it, it's good!" You bring the macaroon close to his mouth and tell him to take a bite.

He slowly opens his mouth and lets you feed it to him, taking a little bite of it

"It's good, right?" You say, then shove the rest of the macaroon he just bites into your mouth.

"So good," he says back.

With the permission you got from him, you continue the tour around his house, exploring the rooms one by one.

It's his bedroom you're curious about the most while Han holds his breath as you get inside, he doesn't know what makes him this nervous.

He watches as you approach his desk, you must be aware of the mess on his desk, he was working on something last night and forgot to tidy up after.

"Are you working on something?" You ask, standing next to his desk and playing with an action figure from his collection.

"Yeah, I was working on a track," he answers with his hands gripping the headrest of the chair.

"Can I have a listen?" You ask.

He likes how you sweetly ask for permission for everything like a little child.

"I understand if you can't," you add as you put down the mini figurine back on his desk.

"No, of course, you can, let me just..." he quickly sits on the chair and searches for the track he worked on until late at night on his laptop.

Once he found it, he hands you the headphone.

"It's not finished yet," he informs you before hitting the play button.

Your eyes are looking at him for the whole minute you're listening to his unfinished track, a faint smile appears once in a while, and slightly bob your head here and there.

"I like this," you say, handing him the headphones back.

"Yeah?"

"I think I have a thing for every song you wrote," you say then turning away to move on to the next room.

His room is spacious but why it suddenly feels so small to him, not in the most suffocating way but he feels drawn to get close to you.

He hears your gasp as you step into his closet, he follows you there and sees you standing in the middle of the room.

You look over your shoulder and say, "And here I thought I have too many shoes!"

Han sheepishly smiles and stands by the doorway, watching you look at his shoe collection, then look at his clothes hanging on the other side of the wall.

You pull out one of his jackets and ask, "may I try?"

And how can he refuse when you ask sweetly like that?

"Sure!"

You take the jacket from the hanger and put it on, walking to the full-length mirror to see how it looks on you.

"What do you think?" You ask for his opinion while looking at his reflection in the mirror.

To be honest, you look good in everything but seeing you in his clothes makes you look more appealing, more alluring he wants you more and more and more.

He clears his throat and pushes the thought away, "you look cool!"

There goes your giggle, his new favorite sound and you put the jacket back on its hanger, putting it back where it belongs.

"Then what about the skirt I wear?" You ask.

His eyes instantly shift to the skirt you're wearing, it's plaid in the colors red and black. It's short and tight, he likes how it accentuates your curve and how it looks on you.

You're coming toward him in slow steps and stop right in front of him, "didn't you say you like seeing me in a short skirt?"

He wonders if you can hear his heart drumming in his chest because he can hear it loud in his ears, deafening.

You're not making a contact with him but his body's temperature is already rising from the proximity.

And your eyes are on him with a subtle sly smile on your face.

You turn around with your back facing him and take his hands, placing them on each side of your hip.

Han looks straight ahead, at both of your reflections in the mirror, and damn, he looks like he belongs there, right next to you.

You catch his eyes through the reflection before sliding his hands down to let him touch the hem of your skirt.

"I'm wearing this for you," you say, still looking at him through the mirror.

Everything else is just so quiet at that moment that he thought you were whispering.

His eyes lower to where his hands touch your skirt and without warning, you pull him closer until his chest meets your back.

Looking over your shoulder with your face merely inches away from his, "do you like it?" You ask.

He swallows hard and tries to think of something to say even though the answer is obvious.

Your head leans back on his shoulder, leaving only an inch between your lips and his.

"I'm wearing this so you can do what you wanted to do to me," you say with your sweet breath brushing his cheek as you speak.

He recalls the messages he sent to you on that one drunken night when he spilled all of his unfiltered thoughts of you.

How do you know I like seeing you in tight, little skirts?

I can't think straight whenever I see you in them. You want me to get in trouble, do you?

His eyes flick back to the reflection of you together and his hands are on you, your hand guiding his going under that he can feel the warm flesh of your thigh.

I take it that whenever you're wearing that tiny skirt you want me to cause a trouble.

And he's holding on to every last shred of sense left in him to not cause trouble. But you make his hand pull the hem of your skirt higher, exposing your thigh and the smooth skin that glows even in the dim light.

Do you want to know what trouble I'll cause?

Just one touch on your silky skin and it's enough to make him give in, he splays his hand on your thigh with your hand on top of his.

I'll touch you there, baby. Lift the hem of your skirt bit by bit, then I'll touch your thighs and that soft skin of yours.

Your skin is warm under his touch and it's getting hot as his hand inches closer to that heavenly thing between your legs.

But he stops once his fingers meet the lacey fabric of your underwear, he might be drunk that night but he remembers everything he wrote that night in the back of his head like the lyrics of his favorite song.

And you think I'll touch you there with my hands? No, baby. My hands may be impatient but my mouth is greedy.

His greedy mouth is getting impatient as well, those red-painted lips tantalize him and so he kisses you. It's even better that you welcomed his kiss with such eagerness, a burst of sweet and hot like a birthday cake with so many candles, he wants to blow on it and eat it too.

His hands are moving on their own, tracing the sides of your body and squeezing your flesh, every touch is a reminder that you're real, this is real.

For a second, he glances at the mirror to assure him that he's not seeing things, he's kissing you with his hands all over you.

You turn around to face him and put your hands around his neck, your red lipstick is fading from his hungry kisses but it doesn't make you less attractive to him.

He lowers his mouth on you again and holds you close, slowly lifting you off the floor to carry you back to his bedroom.

Once he puts you back down, you're walking backward then lying down on the bed.

Han is standing there, watching you waiting for him to let him do what he has been fantasizing about you and your body.

I'll touch you there with my mouth. I'll bury my head between your legs and smell you forever, get myself drunk in your scent.

He kneels on the floor so close to the edge of the bed and parts your legs open, he can see the flimsy fabric of your underwear that covers so little.

How can you wear something so provocative under your skirt?

His eyes are on you as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh, he begins making a trail of kisses from there until his mouth lands where he wanted the most, he believes that's where you wanted him the most as he feels the fabric is damp from your wetness.

He rolls down the hem of your skirt until it hunches up around your waist so you can see how he doesn't hesitate to kiss your clothed core then buries his nose to inhale your scent.

I wonder what you smell like? I bet your smell will get me drooling like a kid at a candy shop. All I know is I'll crave a lick, a bite, I won't stop until I get enough taste.

This craving is growing bigger the longer he stalls, he pulls your underwear down and takes a sniff at it before tossing it aside. There's nothing like drinking water right from the fountain and he's getting thirsty with every passing second.

You make one sweet cake, baby and I'll eat you out like it's my birthday. I'll lick the icing off, gobble on you until I get to that sweet, sweet filling, and lick my fingers clean when I'm done.

And it feels like his birthday, he's not the type to celebrate it every year but he certainly like how it's all about him on that particular day and he wants to make you remember how he enjoys eating you out, from the way you tug at his hair he can tell that you enjoy it too.

"Oh— oh, fuck!" You mutter under your breath with your other hand fisting the bedsheet.

The way you arch your back against his mouth tells him you want more of it, you want him to leave nothing but how his mouth feels on you.

Oh, those soft whimpers you let out as you cum with his tongue on your clit, it feels like the confetti pops and rains down on him.

Your essence floods his mouth and he smears it all over your cunt with his fingers, so he can lick it all over with his tongue.

You prop your elbow against the mattress, look at him and ask, "How'd it taste?"

He shoves his fingers coated with your juice in response.

I always have the dessert first and that's how I like it, sweet and creamy, full of a burst of flavors.

He crawls over your body to come to you, kissing you down and planting the natural scent of your body all over his bed, pieces of clothing are off from each other's bodies.

You take a second to look at his body, the muscles on his chest, his broad shoulders, and his impeccable small waist, it's nothing like you've seen before but somehow you like it, he has his own charms.

He looks down on you as you place soft yet searing kisses on his neck and chest, closing his eyes to take it all in, how your lips feel on his skin.

"Fuck, I'm going crazy," he says, holding your face in his hands.

"But we're only halfway there," you say with a sly smile, then turn over on the bed, on all fours with your ass jutting up at him.

That skirt is what starts all this, that skirt is the cause of all this trouble, therefore it should stay on you. It will stay on you as I take you from behind, holding on to your skirt as I thrust into you.

You're naked except for the skirt hunches up around your waist, he takes a moment to run his hand down your spine and the beautiful arc of your back then when his hand meets your skirt, he takes a fistful of it in his hand.

You're moaning just from him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock and you're so little, he doubts that you can take him well.

His doubt evaporated the second he enters you, slowly and you take it well. You continuously moan until his whole length buries deep inside your tight, velvety walls.

Han has been keeping his moans to himself by pressing his lips together with his jaws all clenched.

You want it slow, you say? No baby, why don't you try to keep up with me? You can blame that itty bitty skirt you wear later.

Your loud moans are enough to beat the sound of the heavy rain outside, the skin-slapping sounds come second, and then there are his grunts that escape through his gritted teeth.

Your head drops onto the pillow with your hands crumpling the sheet, trying to take his hard pounding as he chases his high.

He keeps adding speed as he goes while you keep tightening around his cock, giving him a hard time to last longer than he intended to.

I won't stop, I won't stop until you learn your lesson. I want you to remember that every time you put on that skirt, you'll think of the trouble I'll cause.

His eyes shift from looking at how he's fucking you through the reflection in the mirror to his cock going in and out of you, both giving him the same amount of pleasure.

But it's you, it's you who allowed him to indulge himself in you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeatedly says under his breath every time he almost slips away.

But it's you, you just feel too good and your moans are luring him to give himself in.

His eyes screws shut as he puts all of his into his thrusts and cumming, he realizes that he's going in raw into you a few seconds too late and hurriedly pulls out.

His cum dripping down and he got some drops on you too but he is high in pleasure to notice. His body goes limp but he feels the softness of your body when he collapses on top of you.

Fuck, how I wish I can do all that to you, my sweet pie! I'll always be in trouble just from thinking of you nonetheless.

But that little skirt, that little skirt will be the end of me.

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is you and he keeps on blinking his eyes, thinking he's still sleeping.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" You ask with a hand propping your head, looking down at him.

"Am I dreaming?" He asks with confused, squinted eyes.

You softly giggle and gently poke his cheek with your finger, "is that enough to convince you?"

You keep poking his cheek with your index finger, "your cheeks are incredibly soft," you say.

He should be the one curious about you then it hits him that he's under the duvet with you, naked. As if that's enough to convince him that he's not dreaming it, he grabs your hand and kisses it.

Then the reality hits him, he must have dozed off after the sex and cringed at himself, which surely will leave a bad impression on you.

"How long I've been sleeping?" He asks.

"Not long," you reply, turning on the bed to lay on your stomach with the upper half of your body overlapping his.

Now it feels real, having your body on him and your skin on his skin. He puts his hand on the side of your face and brushes your hair to the side, holding it there.

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming right now?" he innocently asks.

You lean in and give him a long peck on the lips, "how about now?" You ask once you break the kiss.

He shakes his head, "I'm not sure," he answers with a faint smile on his face.

"Just say you want me to kiss you again," you say with an eye-roll and place a kiss on his lips, a little longer than the previous one.

"Still think you're dreaming?" You ask again while biting your lower lip.

He doesn't answer but brings his face close to kiss you. With his hands wrapped around you, he rolls on the bed and has you underneath him, kissing you hard and deep.

He takes a break to catch his breath and looks down at you, with your eyes closed and lips wet from the kisses. You're so beautiful that it still doesn't feel real to him.

"I forgot to tell you that I can't stay the night over," you tell him, resting your hand flat on his magnificent chest muscle.

He frowns at the information but he understands, he lives the same way too where his work dictates his life, not the other way around.

"When do you have to leave?" He asks.

You glance at the clock on his bedside table, "in like two hours," you answer while dragging your hand lower to his abdomen.

"Okay," he meekly says because he can't do anything about it.

You keep dragging your hand lower and lower and he starts to notice where it leads.

He shoots you questioning glances and you respond with a smirk, then you bring your mouth close to his ear to whisper, "but I think we have enough time to..."

He closes his eyes as he feels your hand inch closer to his member, getting hard from you implying that you want to go again before you leave.

But your hand takes a turn back to his chest and you lay your head back on the pillow, "order some food because I'm starving," you say, followed by a series of a giggle from succeeding at playing him.

Han scoffs, he can't believe he almost fall for it but he concedes, no matter what he should treat his guest well.

He collapses on his side of the bed and asks, "what do you want for dinner?"

You shift to lay on your side, "Uhm..." you hum as you think with your hand under your chin.

It feels like he's looking at a pictorial in a magazine, therefore he doesn't mind you taking a long time to pick your dinner.

"On a second thought..." you say, snapping him out of his daze.

You get up from the bed and the duvet slides down your body, exposing your body to him like he needed the reminder of how gorgeous you look in your birthday suit.

"We can order the food later," you say and slip your hand under the duvet, closing into his cock that is getting hard from the anticipation.

He groans as your hand finally makes contact with his semi-hard cock with your eyes bore into him as you speak.

"I'd like to have my dessert first," you add with a sly smile.

Click.

That's still what he does every night, clicking on everything about you. Scrolling down your Instagram page and double taps on the beautiful pictures you took of yourself, leaving a comment on it with emoticons that consist mostly of hearts.

It's when he lays on his bed like this that the image of you fucking him that day flashed through his mind and he remembers everything so vividly.

Your mouth was slightly parted open with soft moans spilling out of it, your skin glows under the dim light, your breasts bouncing with every movement you made, and your ample flesh in his hands. To add to his suffering, he remembers how good to be inside you, and when you cum all over him, it's something that he does not even dare to fantasize about.

Fuck, now that he thinks about it, his cock is twitching in his pants.

He checks his phone and the last text he sent you looks so lonely without your reply.

On the day of the date, he watched you get dressed from the doorway of his bedroom, you put your skirt back on and turned around to look at him.

"I think you owe me a skirt," you said, showing him the mess he made on the fabric and he believed it's his cum dropping on your skirt when he hastily pulled out of you.

That's what was inside the package, a skirt that he owes you and he carefully picked it with the help of his stylist, frankly, he also chose one that he would love to see on you.

He's been waiting for your reply, wanting to know whether you like it or not. Alas, you've been keeping him on his toes all day.

To compensate for the absence of your presence in his day, he goes to your YouTube page to watch his favorite video of you, it feels a whole lot different watching it after he met you in real life. It enhances everything since he knows how you look like, how you smell, how you taste, and how you feel like.

He can't take it anymore, he craves you so badly like he's running low on sugar.

If you're not going to reply then he'll just send you another text, screw being a cool guy! He'll let you know how much he wants to see you.

Like you're listening to the rant in his head, the three dots appear on the chat box which means that you're typing a message for him.

He bites his lower lip with his fingers tapping the back of his phone nervously.

"I got the package!" You write.

His fingers automatically respond to your text and compose a reply even before his brain can think of an answer.

"Yeah?"

"The skirt. I love it!" You wrote along with three hearts emoticons.

He triumphantly smiles in the dark of his room, deep down, he knows that you'll like his pick.

"I'm glad you like it," he replies and presses send.

Before he forgets to ask it, he composes a new text.

"Have you tried it on?"

"Yes."

"And it fits?"

"Want to see?" You ask back instead of confirming whether it fits or not.

But you're offering him a visual aid and he absolutely can't say no to this. Heck, he would love just to see your shadow.

"With pleasure," he replies and bites his lower lip so hard that it turns white

You send him a picture and he quickly opens it, it's the lower half of your body with the skirt on and it amazes him that it fits you so perfectly, he did make a good choice.

Then you send another picture and it comes unexpectedly, he opens it to see you wearing nothing but the skirt.

It's clear that you're taking the picture yourself since you took it through the reflection in the mirror but you know how to tease him, how to get him going, and to make him crave you.

It takes him a minute to admire the picture you send him and another minute to compose a reply.

"Now that you do that, you know what will happen, right?"

Instead of answering him, you send him a video and he couldn't be faster to open it.

The video only lasts for a few seconds, it's you lifting the hem of the skirt to show him the white underwear you're wearing under. The fabric is so flimsy he can see right through and see the thing he craves the most.

"Come and cause trouble!" You send a text after the video.

It's like he's back on that night when he was drunk and being enticed by your tight, little skirt but he would never regret clicking send on those messages.

He's on his senses now, trying to make a good choice, he licks his lips before typing a reply to you.

"Aren't you the troublemaker?"

"You will be the end of me!" He adds, then paces around his room to get dressed. He's aware of how much of a fool he is for you, just pictures of you in a skirt and you got him wrapped in your little finger. Did he mind though? Not at all.

He stops by the threshold to send another text for you, "I'm coming."

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harrysmimi · 1 year

Text

Coffee And Pancakes

Synopsis: One where Harry visits this cafe everyday for this one person he likes (requested)

CW: mentions/slivers chronic pain pls put your mental health first and read with caution if it if something that bothers you. I wrote this because it hit home to me the most combining two requests I got.

Series Masterlist | More of my work

Harry very much liked to visit new cafes in the city everytime. Especially if they served healthy breakfast options.

This Cafe restaurant he goes to particularly caught his special interest, all because of this barista who works there. He saw her the very first day he decided to check out the place, he noticed she was wearing his a crewneck from his old solo merch instantly telling him she was a fan. She also wore a baby green baseball hat to hide the hairnet which he saw every employee wearing. His favourite was her big glasses with dainty frame she wore always.

Since then everytime he visits he liked to watch as she tries not to freak out and take each of his orders, how she stutters even though he orders the same thing everyday he goes there. He liked to talk to her, her name is YN and she works there full-time, he's gotten to know that much about her so far.

But he also remembers her mentioning how Niall once reacted to her video of singing his song on some YouTube channel a few years ago when she was talking about One Direction with her this one very beautiful day. She even suggested he does the same and his fans would love to see that.

Today he was accompanied by his friends and his sister as they were going to catch up after a long time. Gemma has been bugging him to hang out with her so he took out the day for her as his usual schedule consists of going on a walk, after a shower head to the cafe and go straight to studios. He needs to give his family some time too!

Though it made him a teeny bit upset he couldn't talk to YN. But there was always another day, unless she decided to quit her job for some reason. He also really enjoyed his day with his sister and their mum also joined them later.

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

It wasn't until the next four days Harry got to see YN again, apparently she wasn't there for work for some reason. It was a friday so he had to wait the weekend but his heart was broke again he didn't find her there on Monday either. He was again disappointed today thinking he wasn't going to see hee there and her friends didn't know when she'd be returning, he didn't ask that because that would be creepy but he over heard a few of her friends talking about her.

Did she quit her job?

He still needed a coffee so he still went the cafe and planned to directly head to studio, call Mitch and Ben early today. Just as he entered the shop he could take a few peaks at the same baby green hat he saw everyday by the coffee machines. Harry's tummy started fluttering with butterflies as he did. He ordered his usual coffe and Pancakes with extra maple syrup.

"Hey you," he heard her voice chirp as she loaded the espresso machine.

"Hey you," he couldn't help the smile which dared to take over his features, "haven't seen you here in a while, how are you?"

"I'm good, I am good," she nodded still getting on with her work, she took out almond milk from the fridge as she poured it into the metal jug and proceeded towards the frother. "How are you? I wasn't in for work for two days, graduated last Friday."

"Oh, congratulations!" he was quite amused by the new information, "what did you major in?"

"In Indian classical music, minored in music history." She seemed very proud of herself though he was quite unsure if it was the degree she was talking about or the pretty design he poured onto the latte she just made, a little swan he could make it out to be.

"Impressive." He commented earning a soft puff of giggle from her. He swore his heart broke into a million pieces then and then watching that smile and giggles of her voice.

"Just a minute." She excused herself and called out the customer who's order was just made, and proceeded to make his coffee.

Harry truly didn't know how to take the conversation ahead. He didn't wanted to ask her what her future plans are with music, it truly had him fascinated because well he's a musician himself!

"Here are your pancakes with extra maple syrup and coffee." YN gave Harry his order, "enjoy!"

"Thank you so much, love." He smiled taking the tray from her as he went to his original spot next to coffee station where she's usually doing her job. He saw she'd drawn a little smily at the end of his name on the cup, something she'd do here and there to show off her doodling skills.

The cafe was silent, there was no ruckus by angry entitled customers as he read his book and indulged his breakfast. It wasn't until a teenage couple walked in and he noticed a bit of banter going on at the cash counter.

"Come on, you drive a fucking tesla, how is one coffee going to affect you?" The young guy said, YN was stood right there with nothing but anger and disappointment on her face.

"I work here, get out Asher." YN sighed, "Ashlyn do you still want your order?"

"Yes, please." The girl nodded and paid for her order.

"I'm going to tell Mumma about." The guy warned her.

"Go on," YN rolled her eyes, "I am not giving you any free coffee, you're old enough go get a fucking job and stop being a fucking brat that you've grown to be!" She turned to the girl, "Ashlyn your order will be ready in five."

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

Now it's been almost a month to that situation but it's been on Harry's mind all this time, even though he knows It was none of his business and he's seen her deal with rude customers before but he reckoned the teen was her brother by the conversation.

YN on the other had have had enough from her family, especially her little brother. Being the second oldest of six children she has always been taken for granted. But she carried on with her work that day pushing to take care of later when she's visiting her therapist on the Friday.

Harry was sat in the cafe this morning like usual, eating away his pancakes. Promise, he doesn't eat those everyday, it's only for when his mood strikes!

"Hey Harry!" A voice called from behind catching his attention. It was his friends Kyle who he's known since school.

"Hey," Harry greeted him, "haven't seen you in a long time." They shared their usual bro-hug and sat down.

"Yeah, I've been busy lately with the restaurant we just opened." Kyle said. "Never thought you'd be the kind to go out to get breakfast, how do you like it here so far?"

"Oh, I've been coming here from last month or so." Harry smiled sheepishly not wanting to share the exact reason why he's been going there for that long, "it's quite nice in here, the staff's amazing, so is the food. You should try their muffins."

Kyle chuckled, "this is my mum's cafe, I come by to check in on stuff when she can't." He shared, "and yes the muffins are our speciality here. Grandma's recipe."

"Ah!" He smiled, finding it amusing, "no wonder why it's so good then! Gran Bunny makes the muffins."

Harry felt nostalgic. He'd go over to Kyle's whenever and his grandma would have something or other to force feed him and his friends as kids. He doubts she'd spare any of them even now that they're all grown ups pushing their thirties. Some of Harry and Kyle's would admit to online go over to the boy's house for food which he did not mind, his family loved having people over.

"Have you been to Holmes Chapel lately?" Harry asked, be hasn't been there in a long time either.

"Yeah, I was there last week to see Granny." Kyle shared and they talked, catching up. Harry kept stealing glances at YN as she went about her work as usual catching his attention here and there. "Have you got a crush on her, mate?" Kyle said catching all of Harry's attention at once.

"No," he shook his head, "why'd you say that?"

"You're literally staring at her."

"No I'm not." Harry refused to admit it to his friend who's technically also YN's boss.

"She's a nice girl, a little too young for you I'd say. But you can try asking her out if you wish." Kyle teased his friends sat in front of him, slumped on his chair poking at the last buts of pancake on his plate drenched in maple syrup.

"What do you mean too young?"

"She started working here when she was 15, Granny says, as a cashier but she stuck around its been about good six to seven years since." Kyle shared, "she's got more patience than a turtle and has out lasted many of our older employees here."

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

Harry was walking home at around eight-thirty from studio calling it a day for writing. He was frustrated with the writers block he's been trying to get over from past two weeks. Busy on his phone texting his creative director about the new single from his previous album, he bumped into someone.

"Ah!" The person hissed in pain as they stumble back on their feet.

"Oh my god, I am sorry. I wasn't looking—" he stopped seeing it was YN, he looked to his left to see he was just passing the cafe she works at. "Hey, you okay?" He enquired watching her squeeze her hand in pain. He didn't bump into her that hard, did he?

"You want me to help you with something?" He asked, concerned as she was still hissing in agony. It scared him because he didn't know what was happening, was she playing a prank on him? But he saw a sheen in her eyes before sucked in a deep breath. "Did I bump into you that hard? I'm so sorry?" He spoke again, he noticed there was keys in the keyhole of the door, she was closing up.

"Oh no, lemme see." He carefully reached for her hand to see if she's injured severely. But she wasn't.

"I, uhh, no it's okay. I'm fine." She assured him, pulling her hand hand from his.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure." She nodded and proceeded to lock up the door. He found it adorably weird how she used her knuckles to turn the keys. "You needed coffee this late?"

"No, no I was on my way back home." He shared, "are you sure I didnt hurt you?"

"No you didn't, you're fine. I'm fine." She rushed.

"You work this late?"

"No, took up extra shifts for this month." She shared.

"Okay." He nodded, stood there awkwardly not knowing what to say. She sighed.

"Okay I'll take your leave now, have a good night, Harry." She smiled. Harry swore his heart was about to burst.

"Uhh, yeah. Good night." He nodded, trying to reciprocate the same smile without coming out as a creep. She started her little penguin-esque walk upto the side walk all bundled up in her oversized hoodie and her coat, it was getting colder. He watched her unlock a Tesla — so that douche bag wasn't wrong about it!— and was about to get in before he rushed upto her. "Hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She turned to him, her car door between them.

"Are you free tomorrow after work?"

'Oh my god! Okay it's happening!' the inner Michael Scott started screaming inside his mind as he asked the question. But she looked at him confused.

"I don't have worked tomorrow, why?" She said canting her head a side, a smile threatening to tug on the corner of her lips.

"I, ehm, wanted to—" he stuttered feeling his throat go dry in instant, "I wanted to ask if you'd like to grab a coffee or maybe lunch?" He blurt out just before rushing to add, "If, if you wish."

YN swallowed thickly as she looked at him for a moment longer, not believing what was really happening. The guy she spent minority of her childhood and all of her teenage years obsessing over is asking her to grab a coffe with him? Is she dreaming? She contemplated how to answer him, not wanting to break his heart. No one has asked her out since she was in highschool and that too ended horribly to add to her many traumas.

"I... uhh... Harry!" She found it difficult to find words from her vocabulary, "I, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow in the morning. It might take me whole day."

She's telling the truth okay!

The way his puppy face turned into one of upset made her heart drop to her stomach, she doesn't want to turn him down. "That's okay." He sighed, looking down at his vans toeing at the concrete pavement.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" He lifted his head up to look at her. Soft, tiredness never left her features, a gentle crease between her brows.

"I'm not turning you down," she said, catching full and more of his attention, "if you'd like we can still go grab dinner or go the next day."

"I, ehm, yeah I'd like that." He nodded, rubbing a nervous finger under his nose, his classic move when he's nervous. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"This would sound stupid," he mumbled under his breath before taking a careful step closer to her, but she heard him, "can I get your number so I can text you tomorrow?"

"Sure." She smiled. He's sure he's as red as an apple as he felt heat rush upto his cheeks and find it amusing enough to smile at. He fished out his phone from his back pocket and unlocked it before he handed it to her. She took his phone with her shaky hands as she typed in her number and name. Was it that cold? She didn't seemed nervous. Maybe it's just the minor adrenaline rush keeping him warm to even notice, it's nearing October. He even sent her a smiley made of colon and end parenthesis so she knows it's him.

"Shouldn't hold you back longer it's getting late." He said taking his phone from her and checking her new contact in his phone to make sure he doesn't text the wrong number later.

"Mhmm. See you." She said with a petite wave tickling at her finger tips. He waved back and waited for her safely get in her car and drive off before he headed back home himself.

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

Harry couldn't bother to go to the cafe today, he made coffee at home today. It was pretty shitty but it was going to work and keep caffeinated him enough for the day at the studio. He felt very motivated to write today!

Though he kept picking up his phone and resting it face down back again throughout his studio session. He wanted to text YN and ask how's her doctor's visit going but that would make him appear as though he's been an obsessed creep of some sort, wouldn't it? He just can't get her off his mind there. He hoped she's doing fine even though he doesn't know her that well yet.

He felt anxious to text her but he told her he was going to. Excusing himself Harry picked up his phone and headed out for a moment. Finally clicking over her contact he saw she'd saved it with her name, plain and simple, he took that extra second to add a little sparkle emoji next to her name before he started drafting her a message. There was around quarter left for six.

- Hey you,

- how's your doctor's appointment going?

He cringed at his question. Three dots appeared on his screen indicating that she's writing a response back.

YN ✨

- Hey you,

- I'm so bored sitting here !!! 😩

- how is your day going?

He chuckled at her choice of emoji at the end of her complain.

- been in studio since morning, so I'd say I'm having an amazing day.

YN ✨

- I am soooo jealous!

- hey, it's my turn now I'll text you in a bit.

He took in a long breathe of relief that it's going to be over for her and he can take her out later. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Lads, I think we should wrap up for the day." Harry announced reentering the studio room.

"I'm staying to work on this tonight." Ben said, lifting his head up from the computer to look at him.

"Have you been seeing someone?" Sarah pointed out. She has been accompanying their writings sessions lately with Mitch. "You arrive at the studio late, you leave early. What is going on?" Even Mitch shot him his own suspicious glare from where he was sat next to Ben.

Having been put up in a spot Harry froze on his spot for a moment. He wants to keep this to himself if anything further happens for a little while, "no, I'm just hungry. I'm making pasta today, do you guys want to join?"

"Nah, I'll pass this time." Mitch waved him off before getting back to jis work with Ben. He used his cooking as excuse because no one likes when he cooks. He's agree he sucks at it, especially when it comes to pasta dishes.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Harry said after he'd gathered his stuff, "Sarah, bring your baby tomorrow."

"Aye!" She gave him a salute as he walked out.

Harry drove back home and hopped in shower taking his time to clean up as he's gone straight to studio after his intense run after Mitch called him up to play him a new tune. Just when he was out of shower he recieved a text from YN.

YN✨

- it's finally over! 😭

- oh, I hope you don't mind me. I've been complaining since you texted me

He chuckled. Of course he doesn't mind her complains over text. He could listen to her all day, everyday if she lets him.

- it's fine love.

- do you still want to grab dinner?

Honestly, he felt more comfortable now asking her questions. And he's really looking forward to this.

- yeah, I'll be home in thirty.

He smiled checking the time. It was half past six. He typed his message leaving her enough to get home and get ready if she wishes.

- I'll come and pick you up at 8?

- is that alright?

Harry felt so stupidly smitten that everytime those three little dots appeared on his screen his heart never fails to almost jump out of his mouth. Her message came in along with her little address.

- yeah, that gives me enough time.

He threw his phone back on his bed as he walked into his closet pushing him into the biggest turmoil of the day; what is he going to wear?!

At the end he settles on a pair if regular fit jeans and his yellowish cream Bode shirt with a tank top underneath to keep him warm. He pulled out a jacket to go with it as it's already freezing cold outside as it's nearing October end. He made sure there was no dust and dirt on the piece of clothing which has been sitting in his closet for almost a year now. He left the house making sure everything is in it's place and all the windows and doors are locked.

YN on the other hand was panicking. For starters, she was stuck in traffic on her way back home, her water heater started acting up when she went to take a shower after sitting in a hospital for entire day. Plus her chronic pain did nothing but added to one and half hour she had to get ready.

It was nearing winter which meant her arthritis was going to flare up, that meant more frequent visits to her doctor and physiotherapist. October has been truly a spooky season for her from past ten year now. She was just eleven when she had a life changing diagnosis, which her parents never bothered to look at for the longest blaming it on her introvert-ness. But now she's been living alone since she moved for college, life has been more easier on her.

Living alone came with it's own perks. No one bothered her. No one told her what she can and can not do. Living alone meant more savings, especially after she found herself lucky that her grandfather left her tuition fees in his will. She was able to buy herself a flat, it's been just a year she moved into her own home, no longer having to live with creepy roommates or crappy flats. Her brother has been very jealous of her recent purchase of her Tesla, but that was a different story. No one believed her working at a cafe got her all these things, she could careless.

Just as she was starting to put on her make-up to look tad bit presentable with her tired face with massive dark circles. She got a text from Harry saying he's waiting for her. She doesn't quite know if it's a date or he wants to hang out, but she had two options which are, go out with him bare faced or make him wait for ten more minutes.

God she hates being late!

Harry had to wait all for five minutes before he got a text from YN.

YN✨

- omg I'm so sorry!

- I need five more minutes plsss

- you can come up.

- pls

- it's very cold outside!

- I feel so badddd

He laughed at her frantic texting. He recieved a number of her flat with another row of apologies and asking him to upstairs as it's very cold outside. He took up her offer after contemplating. He took the lift up to her floor and walked down the corridor finding hers. Her door was right at the very end of the hallway. It was very calm and quiet.

Taking a deep breath he tapped on her door with his knuckles not opting to ring the bell. Still hoping he was at the right door, he was proven right when her door swung open.

"Hey you," he smiled.

"Hey, please come in." She stepped aside. "I just need five more minutes. I promise I'm not like this!"

"Hey it's okay, I'll wait for you." He chuckled. She brought him a glass of water.

"Please take a seat." She gestured at the yellow sofa in her living room, "five minutes." With that she walked into her bathroom.

YN house screamed that jt was her. Though she was still adding a few touches here and there. But what caught Harry's eye apart from bright yellow sofa with two coffee brown love seats in the living room was her little dining table for two which had an aquarium on it pushed towards the wall. He never thought she'd had a pet, let alone a fish. He pulled himself a chair as he admired the beta fish living a good life in it. He saw a little yellow sticky note with a messy writing on it which said 'His Royal Highness, King McFish the first'.

He didn't realised he let out an audible laugh reading that until his own voice rang through his ears.

"Don't laugh." He heard YN call from her bathroom, probably getting ready. She walked out all ready. "I didn't name him that."

"Who did?"

"It's my neighbours daughter, I baby sit her some times." YN shared walking to her balcony and shutting the door closed. "She named him that because she was eating McDonald's that day."

"He's a royal then, isn't he?" Harry chuckled hearing the back story still watching him swim around. And he doesn't blame the little girl, the fish was really looked royal. Black fins with a yellow body, truly calming and easy on eyes to watch it swim around.

He finally looked at YN, she was ready. Dressed in a pair of brown panta, a white over sized turtle neck sweater which looked handmade. He was blown away seeing her hair which would usually be covered by a hair net at work. She'd decided to braid her long hair leaving it draped up front over her rught shoulder, her curtain bangs styled perfectly. He noticed she had even put on just a tad bit of makeup.

"I like your jumper." He commented watching walk upto the table.

"Oh!" She sounded, looking down at her jumper running smoothing sweater paw over the front, "thank you. I made it."

"I thought so." He smirked proud of his little judgement. "Are we ready to go?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, grabbed her coat hanging on the vacant chair, slipped her phone and a chapstick into a pocket. All the while Harry waited patiently for her as she slipped on her shoes before they headed out. Like a gentleman he is, he got the door for her. He was quite liking her taking her time, it only meant he got more time himself to spend with her that way. Though he was infatuated by her pet fish for a moment there.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you last night?" He enquired as he drove them to his favorites Italian diner, watching her squeeze her hands. Maybe he was reaching and she was just nervous.

"No, you didn't." She turned to look at him wanting to say something further but shut her mouth.

She didn't wanted to tell him her medical history there. It wasn't his fault that her body turns more fragile during colder months, it was a tiny accident. And that was her nervous tick. She's going out on dinner with Harry after all!

This was her first date (if it was because he didn't specify it when he asked her) after that shitty prom date she had, when her girlfriend ditched her last minute to go with the football team captain instead. She wasn't all that heartbroken because they were dating merely two months before. YN had best time regardless with her two best friends.

"Is this a date?" She wondered.

"Of course it is. Do you still want it to be?" Harry spoke taking her by complete surprise.

"Did I said that out loud?" YN gasped covering her mouth in disbelief. She knew it she is going to fuck it up!

"I can read minds." He shrugged glancing at her occasionally as he drove, "you were thinking way too loud."

YN just shook her head sheepishly, feeling her cheeks heat up and heart basically jumping in her ears. Harry had a good laugh teasing her there.

God, he looks even prettier in person!

She couldn't believe she's going on a date. Let alone with Harry. This was something she was sure she would be telling her grandkids in future for sure.

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

Harry pulled a chair for YN before he took a seat himself. They were immediately greeted by the waiter with a menu card. She noticed it had all kinds of beverages on it, especially majority of alcoholic ones. It was a bummer she doesn't drink as alcohol clashes with her medications. She can't even drink more than half a cup of coffee a day because of that.

"Have you decided?" Harry asked.

"I, uh, I don't drink so I'll stick to water." She shared.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't ask." Harry said.

"It's okay, you didn't know."

They were handed the menu card with starters and main course. She didn't know if they were going for both so she picked both not wanting to embarrass herself more in front of Harry. She used up the rest of her time to gather her courage to talk to the waiter.

Don't get her wrong, she works in the same field but she doesn't like to go out to eat for this exact reason. It gives her major anxiety and thanks to her mither who'd forced her to take French and Italian in school that she knew how to pronounce these dishes.

"Are we ready with your order for starters, ma'am?" The waiter asked her first out of both of them, great!

She glanced at Harry once before looking down at her menu picking first thing she saw in front of her having long forgotten what she actually picked, "I'll have, uh, a Caprese Salad, please."

Now when has be eaten a salad in her whole life?

Sure her friend Alex made her and their other friend Brielle the same salad, and she picked only the cheese in it. This was going to be way more embarrassing. Harry ordered some type of soup.

"How did your doctor's appointment go, everything alright?" Harry enquired.

"Mhmm," she nodded, "just a routine check up. I, ehm, have arthritis so I tend to get more... I don't know to put this— sick... during colder months." She finally shared.

Harry felt even more bad now, he definitely did not bump into her that hard but she's already in pain, even that small bump causes her to wince in complete agony, no wonder why her hands were shaky last night. It took him long to put two and two together then and there.

"I'm sorry, love, did it hurt bad?" He felt guilt build up in his gut.

"No, Harry," she rushed, "I told you it's okay. You didn't know." She cooed, reaching for his hand over the table.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am sure!" She assured him.

"Okay." He nodded.

"You're writing new music you said?" She asked, curious.

"Mhmm." He nodded, "quite a hassle actually. Been going through a massive creative block."

"Awh!" She cooed again.

"Enough about me, you tell me now, what made you get a degree in Music?" He asked.

"Who doesn't love music?" She shrugged, "I certainly do."

"Yeah?" He chuckled at her adorably enthusiasm.

"My grand dad was a teacher, he taught Indian classical music his whole life." She shared, "him and I were very close so I picked up from his hobby and passion."

"That's sweet." He commented, "do you sing?"

"Meh, you can say that I sound more like a dying horse. I'm more into just the art of it, that's why I took the music history too."

"Huh, interesting." He canted his head to aside as he said so, "tell me more about it."

The entire Harry urged her to talk about what she liked and she did with that much enthusiasm. Harry later went with simple Alfredo pasta and YN with some Gnocchi, they even ended up switching. The fight to split the bill was won by Harry as he asked her out, so it was all on him.

"Do you want to get icecream or something warm?" Harry asked as they walked out of the restaurant.

"It's very cold for Icecream." She reminded him.

"Then something warm it is," he opened the door to his car for her, "would you like some hot chocolate, it's a bit late for coffee I reckon?"

"Yeah. But it's on me." She said buckling up her seat belt.

"No, no," he warned her as he drove to the nearest Starbucks as that's the only place which would be open that late. The driveway on the passenger side, as YN ordered for two hot chocolates and paid for it the moment they reached the window. "Hey, you're making me upset!"

"Too bad, too bad my friend." She shrugged stuffing her wallet back in her coat pocket, he just chuckled giving up arguing with her already. He drove to the next window and finally parked in the car park.

Taking in a long breathe, he reflected on his day real quick. Or his evening you can say. He liked his time spent with her like he expected he would. He longed to hear her talk more about literally anything, than hear her calling out people come pick up their orders at the cafe. He wanted to do this again with her. Go out or hang out with her.

"I had a really good time with you, Harry." She shared, leaning back on her seat comfortably.

"Yeah?" He turned his head to look at her, "I did too."

"I know I shouldn't say this, but this doesn't feel real that I went on a date with you!" She shared hesitantly.

"Well, to put you at ease my love, I'm a narcissist so I don't mind that." He chuckled, she scoffed jokingly at his comment. She had much more to say much it can wait for some other time which is not their first date. They sat there in silence, a comfortable one might we add sipping on their hot chocolates.

"Don't make it awkward, say something." She spoke after a while.

"It's not awkward." Harry shrugged. "Is there anything to talk about?" He wondered.

"Not really." She looked at time on her watch, "I've got work tomorrow, I think we should call it a night."

"Mhmm," he sighed sadly, pulling out of the car park, he started driving back to her place.

The drive back to her place was awfully short for his liking. He stopped by her building, and got out with her.

"Thank you for going out with me." He said, "hope we could do this some time again?"

"Yeah," she smiled sheepishly. "We could do that."

"We'll plan that out soon then, yeah?" He carefully reached for her, to his surprise she slipped her hand right in his. Her felt cold against his.

"Mhmm." She nodded, "hug?" Without a word uttered Harry wrapped her in his arms, in a warm embrace making sure to be extra delicate with her. She draped her own around his shoulders. "Text me when you get back, okay?"

"I will." He nodded, with a last gentle squeeze he let her go.

"Good night." She said, gently slipping her hand from him.

"Good night, love." He waved at her as he walked back into her building.

Sighing he got back into his car, drove home with a possible second date.

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

N O T E:

1) Please do leave a comment about how you like this one.

2) Reminder that my requests are open atm.

3) it really calmed me writing this one. Hehe! The way of self validations I find. But I hope the person aho requested this liked it too. 🥺

Thank you so much for reading!

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

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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sgiandubh · 9 months

Text

Pretzel logic

I never liked funerals - who does? - and I have always tried to avoid them, under different pretexts. This is one of the moments we meet the Great Beyond and we are at our most vulnerable. It's only fair and it is not something to be taken lightly, ever.

August 10, 2022 happened a few days before I decided to give OL a try and by the time I landed in here, that YouTube live had already been taken offline, perhaps with good reason.

That people watched it should come as no surprise to anybody: it happens in all cultures and societies - Death fascinates us and makes us curious, even if it's a questionable, voyeuristic kind of curiosity. It was posted for everyone to see, on the biggest content streaming platform on planet Earth. It was posted in consideration of the ending peak moment of the COVID pandemic, to allow for more people to attend, with the family's prior consent. It was most probably shot from the organ balcony, at a respectful distance and I am being told the streaming was blurry: a good thing, if you ask me. People screeching for "more clarity" of those screenshots should, in my humble opinion, think twice: context and taboo and all that.

That people saw something bizarre in the front pew was unavoidable. That the said detail (Occam's Razor would help us conclude that ambiguous things are usually anything but...) was screenshot, edited and made its way in here and elsewhere - impossible to control. However, I have not read any disrespectful comments about the event. Nobody snarked. Nobody grinned. A hole in the plot was pointed out, adding to the whole array of inconsistencies and if I remember well, it was almost missed out entirely (a taboo is a taboo, after all) and started its career online only days after.

Was it shared ad nauseam? Maybe - but who the hell am I to judge? Again, not something you can control, unless you set yourself up as the Torquemadas of this fandom and slap everybody on the wrist with your twisted righteousness. When your people discuss the Data Lounge findings in great, lewd detail, that is called having fun and (I love that one, don't you?) gossiping, as if you were just talking about Miss Scarlett's new petticoat, not a man's reputation. When our people dare to post pictures from a public event, or published for public consumption, that is immediately taxed as being insane or snooping.

A neutral person venturing in here would call out the bias immediately. I call out your hypocrisy and have no problem doing it in writing. And I never peddled neutrality, in here: I simply peddled decency and I remind everyone I have probably never posted any pictures from August 10, 2022 (I will triple check later, but I am pretty sure I didn't). It is a personal choice and, as you know very well, I am not alone in the Shipper community. Far from it.

That you chose August 10 to post the largest, most consistent amount of content I have read on your blogs during the last six months, shows me once more what I already knew: you simply can't help yourself, can you? It's all about slap-a-shipper day, even if this community remained remarkably silent and collected, yesterday. Extremes exist, they are a fact of life: silencing them is useless and unproductive, at least as far as I am concerned.

You have once again showed me your true colors, Mordor. At the end of the day, you do not really have a problem with the pictures floating out there. What you do have a BIG problem with, is the person sitting in the front pew and you would go to great lengths - to any lengths, for that matter - to disguise it under a thick sanctimonious cloak of civic disgust. Your shrieks backfire: if anything, they confirm, not deny. And for the sake of politics, anything goes. It is, therefore, ironic, that in order to post your reasoning, you did look, in great detail and for a consistent amount of time, at the same exact screenshots and pictures you send to hell so gleefully.

Spare me the dramatics.

#fandom

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mattphobiia · 2 months

Text

STREAMER.

i finally prepare the last touches before clicking start to begin my stream, sitting back into my chair as i watch the viewers increase as the minutes pass by and my chat begins to get active.

"hey chat! how are we all feeling today?" i say as i begin to set up my screen so all the viewers can see. i look over for a minute to see what everyone was talking about only to see my chat spamming that i was wearing "fresh love" which started to confuse me.

"guys, why are you bringing up my outfit?" i laugh awkwardly as i click at the mouse selecting the game folders. "my best friend got it for me so i don't know what you are all talking about."

"anyways, i've opened all my games so spam my chat with whatever you want to see me play!" i cough, trying to distract the viewers as they all begin to change the topic.

"for fucks sake, all i'm seeing in the chat are all the horror games." i sigh in annoyance. "do you all want me to have a heart attack?"

i hesitantly click to the most suggested when in the corner of my eye i see my chat spamming even crazier than before. i scan through the comments to see many people saying some guy called chris had joined.

"chat who is chris?" i ask curiously as i pause to look at my stream. "chris sturniolo?" i quickly got out your phone to search for his instagram when a verified user came up and turns out i was wearing his merch brand, fresh love.

"oh, damn. hes a big creator!" i gasp, looking through his account as i turn my phone to the stream. "well, hey chris if you're still here!"

i turn my attention back to the game as i engage properly while my heart raced with nerves until the sound effect of someone subscribing made me jump, along with a donation.

chrissturniolo subscribed!

chrissturniolo donated $100!

"holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me!" i scream, jolting backwards and nearly falling from my chair as i place my hand on my chest to feel my heart pounding. "thanks for the $100 and sub chris sturniolo."

i had been streaming for over two hours now, and this chris guy had been donating a couple hundred dollars numerous times just to talk to me directly and my chat was going absolutely crazy over him. i honestly didn't see the hype until i got the idea from someone in the chat to check out their youtube channel, and something about that sparked my interest.

"chat.... i have a surprise for you all!" i say excitedly. "ive seen many comments begging for me to react to the sturniolo's videos so... that's what i'll be doing for the next hour!"

a couple minutes before i searched up their channel, i received another donation from chris, but was that a surprise?

chrissturniolo donated $1,000!

"chris! holy shit dude!" i yell excitedly, nearly beginning to cry as i get up from my chair to get out of the camera frame. "i can't believe this... thank you so much!" i say while the tears of happiness slowly seeped from my eyes. i slowly sat back down as i wipe my eyes before looking at the chat, realising he had left a message underneath the previous donation and i read it out loud.

"thanks for the support, treat yourself princess- princess?!" my eyes widen as i lean closer to the screen, almost in denial. "damn chrissy, thanks!"

i click onto their channel as i select one of their most recent car videos, almost gasping for air once i saw what they actually look like.

"chat is it just me or is chris really attractive?" i question, slightly smirking predicting the reaction of everyone, knowing they would act feral. "oh, thanks for the $5 donation chris!"

chrissturniolo: 😳😳 whats the instagram???

i read out his comment as i pull up another tab to open instagram, showing off my secret account that not even my own supporters had as i continue to speak.

"this is the spam account, but i consider it my main since i don't actually use the other one. as you can tell, i definitely post myself in some... questionable clothing choices!"

immediately on screen, chris's notification popped up saying that he followed me, along with many others where he was liking my posts.

"well, the whole stream saw your notifications chrissy. anyways, back to reacting." i say, giggling to myself as i saw through my peripheral vision that the chat had began to speed up rapidly.

"well that was a fun time! i dont know why i havent watched them sooner, but ill be getting off now to rest. chris, ill talk to you later. bye everyone!" i finally say, giving a wink to the camera for chris as i end the stream, falling back into my chair as i let out a sigh.

well, that was a very unexpected surprise to my stream. my thoughts suddenly get interrupted when i notice chris had sent me a private message.

chris: hope you enjoy all that money i gave😉

you: i definitely will, you live in la/boston right?

chris: yesss, i live in la but usually go to boston to visit parents

you: thats cute

you: would you ever want to meet up?

chris: i'll do anything for a girl like you🥴

you: 🫣🫣🫣

MASTERLIST

a/n : this is not proof read and i also started off in second person perspective (you,your,etc.) so im sorry if that is still there🥲 im also having a bit of writers block atm but im trying to write more! thank you for all the support tho:)

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

Note

Hi!! Do you have any good streamer AU recs? I'm a sucker for a good streamer AU. Preferably one where Crowley and Beelzebub are friends. Thank you!!

We have youtuber fics here on our #social media tag, so check those out. Here are a few more...

Of Love and Loss (RIP Ms Beakman) by lucky_spike (T)

Crowley is a little bored now that he is no longer on Hell's payroll. He finds something else to do. Aziraphale is supportive.

My Love to Keep Me Warm by slateblueflowers (T)

The January after the apocalypse doesn't happen, Aziraphale and Crowley get a little restless and decide to challenge each other to a contest: who can take the other on the best human (winter-time) date? To the victor go the bragging rights! Watch the dates on Aziraphale's YouTube channel. Who do you think wins? ------ Date #1: An Old Favourite. Channel: Aziraphale Fell’s YouTube Channel. Views: 8 • January 3 Likes: 7 Dislikes: 1 Share | Save | Report [A man withdraws hands from the camera lens and crouches over, revealing a shock of unruly blond hair, a gleeful smile, and rosy cheeks. He steps back and turns to face a man leaning insouciantly against a kitchen countertop.]

i am just the (new invention) by littlesnowpea (T)

A list of hobbies Crowley has picked up over the past 6000 years: -gardening -cooking -fashion -pining for Aziraphale -making YouTube videos A list of hobbies Aziraphale has picked up over the past 6000 years: -reading -book restoration -music -pining for Crowley -commenting on Crowley’s YouTube videos When Aziraphale starts giving Crowley flowers, Crowley takes to his YouTube channel to discuss the meaning behind it, where Aziraphale comments encouragement to confess his feelings – under an alias, of course. There is absolutely no way any of this could ever go wrong.

The Tenant by MarisFerasi (E)

They Were Roommates Human AU Trope set during Lockdown 2020: Crowley got kicked out by an ex a few months ago and has couch surfed his last wave of his few friends' benevolence. He finds a listing for a bedsit in Soho and goes to check out the place, and finds the fussy little angel of a landlord quite charming indeed. He moves in and they quickly become friends, but both desire more and pining ensues. The real issues begin when Crowley loses his main job during major cutbacks because of the pandemic, and has to rely on his side hustle of online sex work to pay the rent, and Zira finds out. What will happen? Will the two part ways? Will Zira ask Crowley to leave when he finds out his "dirty little secret"?

Changing of the Seasons by AppleSeeds (T)

Confined to his bookshop, Aziraphale joins a virtual training session about urban foraging led by botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley, and feels some relief from his anxiety for the first time since lockdown began. After that, he watches every video Crowley has posted online, but will he ever get up the courage to actually interact with him? After all, Crowley keeps giving him opportunities to do so... Perhaps once the lockdown is over, some one-to-one nature-based relaxation therapy might be just what Aziraphale needs?

Talk about the weather by nightbloomingcereus (M)

Television meteorologist Aziraphale Fell and Youtube storm chaser A. J. Crowley have nothing in common aside from a purely professional interest in the weather and a mutually beneficial arrangement to lend a hand when needed. So what if they bicker and flirt more than your typical professional acquaintances, or if their arrangement inevitably veers into more personal territory? It's not as if they're in love or anything. Absolutely not.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #social media #youtuber au #mod d

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tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine · 7 months

Text

okay this is for the "I say Havers"-meta anon because I feel a bit bad that I didn't give you what you wanted🙈

So we pick it up again after, the last post I showed you.

Captain says his line about the cover drive, Havers thanks him and then this happens :

(Two btws: -I remember making one of my silly little lazy posts with "say something I'm giving up on you" to this image

-just found out whilst looking for the GIF: I actually can tell from Gifs that only have his facial expression what has been said to him and at which point we are in the scene,solely based on his expression😮 )

Sorry back to the meta:

Would you look at him. In the first scene we have with him Cap dismisses him by saying "carry on" and Havers gets back to his duties. But here Cap, all wrapped up in his feelings made room for a pause by not saying anything after his cricket comment.

Now Havers says this and of course he can't just leave,he has to be dismissed and my boy has places to be (north-africa). But this is clearly not him asking for further commands etc.

Look at his eyes completely fixed on Cap and his raised eyebrow and the movement of the head. It's simutaneously the gesture one makes to remind someone that it's their turn to speak or do something as well as it looks like he tries to not only encourage Cap but is trying to indicate that "If you have anything to say, now is the time". Basically it looks like he's desperately waiting/yearning/hoping that Cap will adress his feelings/confess his feelings. He's almost trying to nudge him mentally to spit something out. (Still believe His inner monologue here was "say something, say something, say something!")

But Cap just confirms that that's all and in this second Havers realises that Cap won't say anything. And look how dissapointed he looks because it's just not happening. He's giving up and very very briefly has to get his facial expression in check. he turns to leave

(Excuse the screenshot quality I'm typing this on my phone and had to take this from YouTube)

So Cap now panicks a bit because this is probably the last conversation they'll be having and he at least has something to say that resembles a good bye or an I miss you just something to tell Havers what he means to him. So at the last minute:

and of course Havers whips around with an expectant look the only difference is he does not look like he's screaming internally wondering If Cap will confess anymore. I guess because he's already in his stiff upper lip/professional mode because my god the man can hide his emotions Like 1000 times better than Cap. Also he has given up after Cap gave him emotional whiplash twice already in this conversation. But nonetheless there is still a faint hope which is shown by how fucking fast he turns towards him.

So the next part hast been said by others before. Cap tries to say something, his courage leaves him, he shakes his head to himself and settles for

With this pleading look on his face of I dunno "please I mean it"? "please you have to understand/to see"? "Please believe me when I say"?

Wordwise though he's going the semi professional route of "I really liked working with you because I like you as a colleague"

So now Havers reaction which I for the longest time could not get. I mean i get the nod that's a "acknowledged....thank you ...you too... bye"

But the smile? So yeah now I gotta say first of all professional mode is on. But also in a way he got an "It's a shame that you're going, I wish you we're staying" but just not as a romantic confession. So he's smiling because at least he got that and it was sincere? Also happy that Cap did at least say something about his emotions towards him in the end?

seriously interpretations on that smile are very welcome.

Sorry this all is again incoherent babbling, but at least it's now about the right part of the scene.

#Anon ask #bbc ghosts #Redding Weddy #Capvers #Caphavers #Meta #My soft boy and my creaky boy #I Love them your honour #I am going to be so late for Work now whooopsie #Lieutenant Havers #BBC Ghosts the Captain

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filthforfriends · 7 months

Text

Chapter 1: Checking In

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction)

Word count: 3.5k

Damiano David x Y/n

His family and his friends, mutual and otherwise, made tepid comments about Damiano’s wellbeing. They knew they didn’t have the right to ask anything of you, not anymore.

“Just checking in! I know the breakup was tough.” Tough. The word choice made you outright laugh. It was something you’d say to a child who just lost a football game. I know that was tough, buddy.

“Hey, checking in, hope you’re doing well.”

“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, y/n.”

“I know I checked in on you earlier, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” I was forced to choose between my sanity and my relationship, but God granted me neither.

“I’m doing fine, all things considered.” “Checking in” was their excuse to call, it was a transition to statements like, “We all miss you alot. Hope we’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” “Well, I’m glad you’re doing well, since I know Damia has been struggling.” “Have you heard from Dami? I was gonna call and ask how he’s doing as well. I heard he’s not coping well.” “You were such a force for good in his life. I think he really needs that.” “I wish I knew how to get Damiano closer to being fine, too.” That last one earned a real life eye roll. At least his friends had the etiquette to feel guilty for dragging you back into it.

You were certain that your heart couldn’t bear to love someone hellbent on self-destructing. You were certain that Damiano wasn’t going to get sober of his own volition. He’d lose his temper when you’d bring up those two years of not drinking. Articles, books, podcasts, speeches, YouTube videos, TV, movies, therapy, support groups, doctors, even a sobriety coach. You spent more time on resources for his addiction disorder than you did self-care, or hobbies, or some days, even work. Your life revolved around stopping this behavior before he became a tragic stereotype and left a black hole in your life. Damiano’s life revolved around Maneskin’s unrelenting schedule.

He’d do anything to reclaim his autonomy, but the options were slim. The documents from Sony US hadn’t been translated with nuance and you wondered if that might void some of it. Hoped, really. He’d signed his life away to realize his dream. Now all he could do is show his handlers that they’d bought a faulty machine. In fact, he was self-destructive enough that he’d do it just to spite them.

The first time Damiano was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning, you found about a dozen ways to reassure yourself that everything wasn’t falling apart. He’d been sober for two years so his tolerance was low. Damiano was probably drinking the same amount. Then you found out it’d been hard alcohol, no mixers. Now the excuses were he didn’t remember when to stop. He had to relearn how to self regulate when drinking.

Ethan had been the one to call the first time, when they’d managed to contain it. The second it was his head of security, Ronnie. In a totally normal and healthy way, you combed through Twitter for an hour. The knot in your stomach said the news would break and it did. Splashed across tabloids was a haggard looking picture of Dami that you tried to date based on his outfit. Your therapist called your behavior “obsessive,” but followed it up with a surprising amount of empathy.

“Tough love can be equally painful on both sides.” You’d never told her you still loved him. It was obvious. For the first time, carrying around all Damiano’s secrets felt like a burden. You’d never betray his confidence, despite how poisonous he’d been towards the end. SME had you sign a non-disclosure agreement in early 2021. You’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, that there wasn’t enough money in the world to pay you to talk to the press. Sony had simply said, “for now,” prompting Dami’s stereotypically Italian temper to flare.

Ronnie was more concerned with you telling Damiano that he’d relayed this information, clearly against your ex-boyfriend’s wishes.

“Be honest with me, are you breaching contract by calling me?” There’s a very long sign on the other end of the line.

“Technically, no. He hasn’t taken you off his emergency contacts. I’m more concerned about the disruption it would cause.”

“Disruption?”

“Explosion. Whatever he’s ingesting has made him volatile, constantly on edge. The edge of rage, that is. We’ve stopped hoping for good days and started hoping for some good hours every few days, ideally around showtime or interviews.”

“Wow, okay. I know he has a temper –”

“He’s never not angry. It's always simmering under the surface.” Through the silence, you can hear the sounds of the hospital. Layers of anxious voices and the constant beeping of some machine.

“You didn’t do this.”

“I know,” you respond automatically.

“Y/n, you didn’t do this. He did this to himself.” Dami had violated boundary after boundary as you set them. He became less recognisable, until he wasn’t the person you fell in love with. Full of creativity, light, good humor, who loved art and comradery more than he did any substance.

“I mean, I don’t think the breakup is why he’s so angry. The depression is probably from the alcohol. That’s actually why I’m calling.” Ronnie has the same tone of voice as those who are “checking in.” “The decision has been made, that he’s going to rehab.”

“Good.” With your back braced against the wall, you slide down onto the floor with relief.

“That decision has been made without Damiano’s consent.”

“Can’t you consult him?”

“No,” Ronnie says firmly. “Addicts aren’t rational.” It was the first time you’d heard someone call Dami an addict. Before now, that word had only existed in your own head.

“I can’t believe it got to this point so quickly.” Your cat, Princess, senses your anxiety and rubs against you. Dami had picked her out as a tiny kitten. When would she start wondering where her dad was? Maybe not yet, he was gone for long stretches of time on tour. Princess doesn’t know he isn’t coming home, and that thought both makes you jealous and sob hysterically.

“Y/n? Y/n? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you sniff, eyes burning.

“SME is using the full weight of its influence to force Dami into rehab. He might call you and say anything he can think of to get out of it. Don’t believe him. You can’t trust him right now.” The thought of Dami calling and begging you to fly him home, only to go on a bender makes you sick.

“Should I block his number and Whatsapp?”

“That's up to you.”

“You called to tell me it's up to me?”

“I called you to warn you. So you could steal yourself. So you’d know about it before the tabloids.”

“I suppose now that Dami’s hospitalization is public, someone is also gonna leak that he’s going to rehab. Cover their own asses?” Ronnie falls silent. “You know, going to rehab in privacy would be a fuck load more effective. Let them wonder.”

“I wish they would.” Here was the impasse you always reached. Damiano treated as a doll to be flung around for profit, as if he didn’t have a soul.

“Fine. Thanks for calling me.” Each time, you tried to tell them not to update you in the future, and each time your tongue refused to form the words.

“Y/n, I have a feeling that something is really not right with him. That it could get much worse before it gets better.” Now, he’s managed to tick you off.

“Ronnie, I tried everything in my goddamn power to keep him from crashing and burning. More than anyone else! I devoted hours to –”

“Y/n, I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him from self-destructing. I tried!” The sound of tears creeps into your voice. “I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. I don’t know if he was refusing to get better or was unable to, but either way I…tried.”

“No one questions that. I mean that Damiano might need for things to get worse for them to eventually get better. He’s stubborn and short-sighted. I want you to be ready.”

“How much worse?” you whisper.

“He might need to bruise his ass on rock bottom to stop idealizing self-destruction.”

“‘Live fast, die young’ sounds a lot like I’d rather stick it to the man than grow old with you. My ego is bigger than my love for you”

“I don’t know that that’s true, y/n. For some people it's a matter of time before they become addicts when they’re put into this pressure cooker. I’ve seen it before.

“And?”

“Only Damiano can pull himself out of it.”

“So I just wasted my time,” you respond bitterly.

“Showing Damiano how deeply and unequivocally you loved him might save him still.”

“I thought he had to save himself.”

“You’re telling me that after five years he’s not a part of you and vice versa?”

“No.” No, I’m not telling you that, because I know the opposite to be true so viscerally that it has almost destroyed me. The part of Damiano that lay in your heart should be withering in his absence, but it remained very much alive. How do you move on from someone you hadn’t broken up with? The version of Dami that caused you to end it wasn’t truly representative of his character. He was still in there, progressively buried under the rubble of this revolt. The man you loved was unreachable which also made it impossible to move on. Every day he held you in his hellish limbo.

Damiano did his 30 days. Then 30 hours after discharge, he overdosed in Milan. You started buying a train ticket as soon as you saw Ronnie’s contact on the screen.

“Is he alive?”

“Yes, but he’s on a ventilator.”

“God damn it Dami,” you whimper, doubled over and on the verge of screaming into your hand. “What's happening?”

“That's literally all I know. Someone found him in the bathroom of a bougie nightclub and gave him Narcan, thank god. His lips were purple, so…” For a moment Ronnie’s voice is drowned out by a sob. “It’s gonna be messy. The ambulance was photographed.”

“Christ.” This would make international celebrity news. Every asshole who’d typecast Dam after Eurovision would be competing for the most public validation.

“We don’t think it was intentional.”

“But how bad was it? Like would he think he was gonna die in the moment? Was he alone? How long was he conscious? What – what about organ failure. What if –”

“Y/n, I don’t know,” Ronnie says slowly. “I will call when I have more information.” You’d been on the train for 20 minutes before your phone rang. He was going to be okay. You balled up your coat and screamed, using it as a gag.

“Turns out, to compensate for the hangovers, he’s been doing cocaine.” Never has irony been more painful. “He wasn’t testing his drugs. The coke was laced with fentanyl. Another line might have killed him.” Only then does the possibility that Damiano could end his own life become apparent. It swallows up every other aspect of your reality, until you’re standing in the doorway of his hospital room.

Thomas’ girlfriend Mia sees you first and runs in for a hug. Ethan and Vic were sleeping in their hotel rooms. Ronnie’s jacket is crumpled in a chair, forgotten after drifting off to sleep probably.

“Hey! Ronnie said you might come, but…” But I’m not Damia’s girlfriend. Perhaps he’d found someone new, and you were encroaching on their territory.

“Shit, I just thought that, um…is he dating –”

“No.” The amount of relief that provided was just evidence of how damaged you were. “He’s been in a coma for almost three hours, lots of good brain activity. He should wake up soon.”

“Coma?” you squeaked. In Tom’s eyes you saw how taxing this new Damiano had been. You weren’t the only one that loved him unconditionally.

“Yeah.” Thomas rubs his face and sighs. “Fuck. We have so much shit tomorrow.” SME had scheduled a press tour as soon as Damiano was discharged, to make up for lost time. Everything was pushed back because the band couldn’t release something they hadn’t done publicity for.

“I’ll sit with him for a while,” you reassure. Mia helps Tom up out of the chair. After exchanging appropriate greetings, they exit the room, whose door remains open. Now you had to look at him. The ventilator emits rhythmic rushes of air, so your eyes find the source of the sound first. Then you follow the tubing until it enters Damiano. He’s gray, sickly looking like he had COVID again. Surely they already tested for that.

The concern had been damaging his voice, like the tobacco and weed hadn’t already put his vocal chords on the edge of irreversible harm. How damaging is a plastic tube shoved down your throat? Alcohol caused esophageal cancer and coke eviscerated your sinuses. What would those do to his singing voice?

You’d refrained from watching his gigs, but now you have the compulsion to find a video of this morning’s interview. It was just the talking portion, no performance. That was Sony’s idea of easing back into the public’s eye. In the thumbnail, he doesn’t look like an addict. Damiano’s skin had aged backwards while in rehab. He was beautiful, pale from so much time in doors, but healthy. The fact that he’d managed so much damage in a matter of hours made you nauseous.

You sat in the bathroom while the feeling passed. The pale green tiles were cold. Should you leave? You couldn’t even work up the bravery to touch him. But if you left, Dami could wake up alone with a tube down his throat, confused that he wasn’t dead. Meanwhile, the fluorescent lights illuminate details in the reflection of the mirror that you’d prefer not to be made aware of. After pondering some adult acne, you decide that you aren’t the type of person to abandon someone, just because they abandoned you.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you startle the nurse at Damiano’s bedside.

“Geez, I didn’t know you were in there!” She brings a hand to her ample bosom while taking a deep breath.

“Shit, sorry. I was just…having an existential crisis.”

“Ah, so you must be the girlfriend, then.”

“Yep,” you answer automatically. After five years, that response was ingrained into your frontal lobe. This would have been the first time you answered no.

“I’m Maria and I’m gonna be your nurse this morning.”

“Morning?”

“It is…” she checks her smart watch, “5:04. So early morning.” Her chipper tone gives you cognitive dissonance. “I’m just gonna take some blood, just to monitor how his organs are functioning. Unfortunately a tiny amount of fentanyl can wreak havoc.”

“His organs are failing?”

“No,” she answers firmly, going so far as to round the bed and pat you on the shoulder before putting on latex gloves. “He’s young and it's his first OD. He could bounce back quickly, but a coma is the body's last ditch effort at keeping itself alive. He’s lucky.” She gives you a knowing look. “I can recommend some great treatment programs, now that he officially has his Substance Use Disorder diagnosis.”

“Um.”

“Maybe we’ll tackle that around breakfast time. Now why don’t you hold onto his hand.” She ties a purple tourniquet around his bicep on his left arm while you gingerly take a seat. “Mhm, go ahead,” she permits, completely oblivious to the war raging inside you.

“Does – does it help?” Your left hand quivers, half an inch above his, close enough to feel the heat. For some reason, you expect Dami’s skin to be cold too, like a corpse.

“It can be difficult to find a good vein after an overdose.”

“Are his veins damaged?”

“We didn’t find any evidence that he was using intravenously. Unfortunately hypoxia, A.K.A. oxygen deprivation, is a result of –”

“Will he have brain damage?”

“You’ll have to ask the doctor that question.”

“Does Narcan hurt?”

“No, but he’ll probably have a headache.”

“Does overdosing on fentanyl hurt?”

“It’s heavily sedating.”

“Would he know that he was overdosing?”

“Depends on how experienced of a drug user he is.”

“I’m pretty positive that this is his first overdose.”

“Then probably not.”

“Would he be scared then?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Would he be afraid of dying?”

“Honey, hold his hand.” Maria pats you on the shoulder as you finally set your palm against Damiano’s. His skin is warm, as always, and he feels sturdy. The sensation of his hand in yours brings back so many memories that you’re fighting not to drown in them. It's strange, him not responding as you squeeze down. Dam loved to talk about marriage, how the ceremony would go, the reception. You’d debated matching rings. Now you watched the blue line of his heart rate on the beeping monitor.

“Okay, all done,” Maria announced, smoothing adhesive labels over vials of blood. “The doctor will be in shortly and – oh.” She freezes, then presses the call button.

“Is he okay?” Your heart falls from your chest to stomach, out your ass, and lands on the linoleum floor.

“Yep, looks like he’s coming out of it, actually. Stand up,” Maria requests, pulling on your arm. “Make sure you’re in his line of sight. Waking up on life support can be quite disorienting.” Damiano’s face looks the same, but then his pupils move under his eyelids. You’re the first thing he’ll see and that pressure is impossible to bear.

“I can’t! I’m so sorry.” You rub your eyes then stand up, grabbing your purse and overnight bag. Maria doesn’t protest. She lets you leave in a flurry of movement and tears, throwing the door open so forcefully that it hits the wall. Once outside of the hospital room, you immediately feel compelled to go back. Dami had never done anything to warrant being left alone at such a pivotal, terrifying moment. You knew with absolute certainty that if the roles were reversed, he’d have never left your side.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath upon re-entering the hospital room, holding Dami’s right hand in both of your own. “Okay, I’m here. What now?”

“We wait,” Maria answers, as a doctor enters the room. There's the medication given, vitals taken, brain activity analyzed. The waves on the monitor become closer together, then more drastic. Medical personnel may be accustomed to it, but the rapid beeping elevates your anxiety.

“We’re bringing him up out of it gradually, so he doesn’t hurt himself,” narrates a young doctor. “Mr. David will have regained a level of consciousness by now. Probably thinks he’s dreaming.” How would a person not startle while waking up with a tube in their throat? It’d been almost three months since you’d last seen him, but if you thought about it that way, you’d just run. Instead, you imagine that you’re waking Damiano up from a bad dream, even though it was typically the other way around.

“Will he recognize your voice?”

“Of course.” The response comes out defensive when you didn’t intend it to be.

“Talk to him.”

“I…okay.” You lean down, getting closer to his ear. “Dami, it’s y/n. It’s y/n, I’m really here. It's me, baby.” That last word gets stuck in your throat. It’d be so long. How many messages had you missed? He must have tried to contact you.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t answered. I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know if saying something is the right thing.” Maria and the other nurse in the room are looking at you with a bit of judgment, but the doctor is focused on the monitors.

“Great. That’s great.” You raise a shaky hand to Damiano’s cheek and brush your thumb back and forth.

“As soon as I heard, I got on a train. I still think about you everyday, even more than when we were together. Hopefully you won’t remember any of this, me babbling on. I’d call it pathetic, but you wouldn’t like that.”

“Page whatever respiratory therapist is on call this morning, please. Thank you.” For another couple minutes you wait for improvement, signs that your boyfriend still existed in this body. The doctor is enthralled in what appears to be unchanging information to you, and administers another dose of something.

“I always thought it was kind of sudden,” you confess. “Damia, if you can hear me, come towards the surface.”

“He can definitely hear you. I’m Dr. Williams, by the way, or just Paul.” The young physician never breaks focus. “Common misconception. If waking up from sleep isn’t instant, why would waking up from a coma be,” he chuckles. Damiano’s hand twitches at the wrist, like a muscle spasm.

“He just moved!”

“Mm-hm.”

“Is everything okay?” Ethan exclaims, having walked in while all your focus was elsewhere. Someone herds him into the hall and closes the door. Then Dami squeezes down on your hand, properly, like he intends to. His eyes flutter and you feel his presence enter the room.

Notes: Chapter 2 posted on Sunday. Let me know if you find this fic interesting/compelling so far. I'll be posting two short chapters a week, word count ranging from 2.9 - 7.3k. Hello to the new members of my taglist!

-XOXO Eden

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