#like why bother matching if you don’t wanna talk?? especially when i reply within 30 minutes??

[transmechanicus]

Not to sound like a whiny little bitch but my ass really is doing all the fucking work to initiate and carry conversations on this here Hinge app and it’s really freaking irritating to make this effort and basically get one response like 48 hours after my opener, then get ghosted when i ask follow up questions, and have this happen repeatedly ad infinitum.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.�� in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

[iwritesickfic]

perfect, part 1

“You don’t look well,” Bo says, and Dell waves a hand in dismissal.

“I look fine.” he slides into the car next to the younger man and the driver starts off before the door is even closed.

“Ok, you look fine, but I can tell...” He trails off, and Dell laughs softly. Even under the weather he looks lovely. It’d be very hard to tell if you didn’t see him everyday, but because he does, Bo notices every bit that’s off. he’s considerably paler, and his eyes are red rimmed like they are when he hasn’t gotten any sleep. His lips are chapped, and the way he keeps touching his septum with his knuckle is evidence something’s wrong.

All that said, he looks otherwise immaculate. His shirt is ironed and crisp as normal, his curls are brushed the way they always are, he’s clean shaven and obnoxiously punctual.

“What can you tell?” He asks, teasing, and Bo sighs, glancing again at the driver. He lowers his voice.

“That you’re ill.” Dell smirks.

“And what does my being ill matter?” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice. Bo sighs.

“It matters because you probably need some rest and some tea and a day off instead of running around-” Dell cuts him short.

“Do I have time for a day off?” Bo frowns. They absolutely don’t. It’s been only a few weeks since Dell’s mother, reigning queen of their tiny, forgotten, european country announced her decision to step down. Which meant Dell, the royal family’s only son, would be king. And for Bo, the personal assistant hired by his mother, meant an extreme uptick in the amount of things he needed to manage per day. 

“We could -”

“Don’t say we could work something out. We can’t work something out. This week is busy and we’re not cancelling everything just because you’re under the impression I have a cold.” Dell seems completely unwilling to keep the conversation between just the two of them, so Bo stops keeping his voice low.

“I’m under the impression?”

“Have I said I don’t feel well?” Bo sighs.

“No.”

“So it remains to be seen.” 

The truth is that Dell doesn’t need an assistant. At least not one that rides with him to appointments and is constantly within five feet. Dell needs someone who will answer his emails, not someone to babysit him. Especially not someone a year and half younger. He’s been cordial but it’s clear he doesn’t really enjoy Bo’s presence. He’s not condescending or anything, he just seems to get a lot of fun out of joking and teasing and sarcasm.

“Just trying to be nice,” Bo says, and Dell gives an almost sad smile.

“Your job isn’t to be nice to me or ask if I’m ill, Bowen. It’s to make sure I get to the places I need to be to do my job. The concern is very kind but it’s not necessary.”

Bo wants to argue, but he won’t. He’s not concerned because he thinks it’s necessary. He’s concerned because over the past two months he’s grown to actually care about him. He won’t say that though, because though Dell would probably just find it funny there’s a major possibility that someone up the chain of command would find it unprofessional. Also, he doesn’t need to give Dell any more ammunition for teasing.

So, they go about the day as normal, Dell being his normally charming self through meetings and lunch and meetings and dinner while Bo sits a few feet to the left, taking notes or answering emails or trying to look occupied. The most awkward hour of the day is when Bo is forced to sit in on Dell’s meal with his girlfriend. He’s seated a table away, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still Bo’s job to eavesdrop on them.

By the end of the day, back in the car to the palace, Dell looks considerably worse. As much as he can look worse. He’s started to sniffle, and he’s definitely more pale than he was this morning. The most worrisome thing is that he’s started to shiver. Bo doesn’t mention it.

They part ways, Bo headed to his small apartment on the palace grounds, Dell headed to a likely gorgeous private wing decorated with art that costs more than Bo’s salary.

The next morning Dell looks worse - his eyes are still bleary, and even in a thick sweater he’s shivering. His nose is a little pink, and he’s carrying a travel packet of tissues when he climbs into the car. It’s a rainy March morning, warm enough to keep snow at bay but cold enough to be unpleasant.

“Should I -” Dell cuts him off, his voice sounding a bit deeper and raspier than normal.

“No, it’s fine. I can manage.” He gives the younger man one of signature charming smiles and Bo feels something in his chest melt a little bit. He tries to shove it down. He should not feel this way about his boss. His straight, taken, totally-out-of-his-league boss. Still, Dell seems to sense his nerves. “Something’s wrong?” He asks, still smirking. Bo feels his cheeks heat.

“No, nothing.” He forces a little smile before burying his face back into his phone, pretending to write an email. 

“What’s on the schedule?” Bo’s grateful to have something concrete to focus on.

“Uh, the garden dedication. Oh, shit.” Dell standing out in the cold drizzle for an hour and a half is not going to be good. They’ve got umbrellas but the cold is bad enough on its own. “We could try -”

“It’s ok,” he gestures to his coat and scarf, “I’m prepared for it.”

“But...” Bo bites his lip.

“You’re worried I’ll catch my death?” Dell teases, and Bo rolls his eyes.

“That’d be a blessing.”

“Then who would bother you all day?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way.

“Right I would.”

Despite all of Dell’s protests, after about five minutes of standing outside for the ceremony he looks miserable. At least Bo can tell he’s miserable. To anyone else he probably looks fairly normal, apart from constantly wiping his nose. It’s baffling how everything he does he manages to make look polite and charming and sophisticated. 

When the event is over, Bo can see the relief in Dell’s entire posture. That is until his mother approaches them.

“Bowen we won’t be needing you for the rest of the day. Consider it some paid time off.”

Bo’s eyebrows furrow but before he can say anything Dell speaks up.

“Why is that?” He seems tense again, though Bo isn’t sure why. Truthfully he’d much rather spend a day following Dell around than home alone watching television, even more so because it’s clear Dell’s walking the line between a cold and something worse. And Bo is well aware no one but him gives a damn about how Dell actually feels. 

“There’s no need, you’ll be with us the rest of the day.”

Dell looks like he wants to argue but he just gives a polite smile. He gives Bo a little nod.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bo hesitates, he wants to object, wants to insist he stay, but he doesn’t. He just nods and takes the car back to the palace, changing out of his semi-damp clothes and into some sweats. The rest of the day passes slowly, and he decides that at 8:30, he’s going to Dell’s room with some tea. He shouldn’t be so worried, but he is, and the only way to get his mind to stop racing is just to confirm that Dell is in fact doing just fine.

At 8:25 he grabs the thermos of tea and sets off toward Dell’s bedroom. He’s been here a few times, mostly on mornings when they can’t wait until they get in the car to talk logistics, but never for any kind of personal reason. He’s not really sure if it’s allowed, but he’ll take the chance.

When he finally arrives to the door it takes him a minute to gather the courage to knock. The door opens slowly to reveal Dell in an oversized t shirt and boxers, flushed and shimmering with sweat, his curls stringy and limp. Bo’s never even seen him in a shirt without buttons, let alone boxers and a t shirt. The room is freezing, Bo can feel it seeping out into the hallway. Dell looks mildly confused, his eyes half lidded.

“Is there something we need to talk about?” His voice is hoarse and broken in places, some of the sounds rounded from congestion. He sniffles wetly.

“No, I uh...” Bo is so taken aback he’s having a hard time formulating a sentence. “I brought some tea.” He holds it out sort of awkwardly, and Dell takes it, cracking a small smile. They stand there in silence for a few moments, and Bo swears he can see the older man swaying on his feet. One of his hands rests on the door frame.

“That’s all?” He asks, and the teasing tone in his voice is apparent. Evidently Dell is never ill enough to let Bo off the hook.

“Yeah, I guess. I mostly wanted to see how your cold was.”

“Worried about me?” He asks, still smiling, and Bo rolls his eyes. he’s about to reply when Dell breaks into a fit of coughs. They sound like they come from deep in his chest, like they hurt. By the time he’s done he’s trembling, all the color gone from his face. “Before you ask, yes, I feel awful.”

“Can I come in?” The words slip out before Bo has a chance to hold them back. Dell raises his eyebrows.

“You wanna come in?”

“Uh, no, I-um, I ju-” Bo mumbles before Dell cuts him off.

“No, it’s fine. Yeah, come in. Sorry, it’s a little bit much.”

Bo hesitantly steps inside and Dell closes the door. Bo’s never actually been inside any of the core royal family member’s suites. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn, but when Dell flips on a lamp Bo’s able to get a decent look.

the room is massive, and though the furniture looks undoubtedly expensive, it doesn’t look how Bo expected it to. It’s more modern and minimal than he anticipated. It doesn’t really match the aesthetics of the rest of the room - the marble floor, intricate wallpaper, fancy wood working all scream excess while all the furniture though obviously well made is understated.

There’s a sitting area with a television, a huge bed, and what appears to be an equally massive bathroom and closet. One of the windows is open, which explains the cold, and Dell waves him over to where he’s sitting on the couch. He sits gingerly, and Dell gives a weary smile. 

“Now you know how the other half lives.”

“That’s not why I wanted to come in.” Dell just raises his eyebrows. “I wanted to just uh, make sure you’re alright.” Dell sighs and rubs his eyes. He sniffles.

“We’ve got tomorrow off, I’ll be fine. Just need some sleep.” He sniffles again, and wipes his red tinged nose with a tissue. Bo’s heart is pounding. 

“You need more than sleep.” He has no idea where he’s getting all this courage. Dell smirks.

“And what do I need?”

“Well you’ve got a fever, clearly, and that cough sounds pretty bad. I don’t know if sleep will do it, especially considering the temperature in here.” Dell looks sort of impressed.

“You wanna look after me.” It’s not a question. Bo freezes.

“I mean...if you wanted somebody to -”

“Bowen, I’ll be honest with you.” Bo’s heart stops completely. “It’s been probably 15 years since I’ve had anyone look after me because I was sick. And even then, no one’s ever done it for free. And I’m pretty sure you know this isn’t part of your job. So my question is, why?”

A thousand thoughts are running through his head, but none of them seem quite right to say out loud. Because he has a desperate crush? Because he’s worried? Because his heart hurts thinking about him all alone sick as he is?

“I care about you. Even though you...hate me, I don’t wanna leave you all alone like this.” Dell laughs softly, and Bo feels his heart sink until he hears him speak.

“Why would you think I hate you?”

“It’s...it’s obvious.” Dell laughs again, this time breaking into a fit of coughs. 

“Christ, Bo.” He shakes his head and pushes his hair off his face. His hands are shaking. “I don’t have the energy or the lung capacity to talk about this right now.” He’s takes an unsteady breath. “Listen, I would be...I would be so fucking grateful if you wanted to look after me. If you wanted to.” 

For once, Bo doesn’t over think his answer.

“Of course I do.” Dell smiles and swallows hard.

“Thank you.” His voice is almost a whisper. Bo’s frozen for a few moments before he breaks their gaze.

“Have you taken anything?” Dell looks confused. “For the fever.”

“The fever?” Bo finally cracks a smile himself.

“I mean, I haven’t checked yet or anything but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got a fever.” He reaches out to test Dell’s forehead but pauses. “can I?”

“Go for it.”

The moment his palm connects with Dell’s overheated skin he winces. It’s worse than he was anticipating. The blonde is absolutely on fire. He tests his cheek, then again with the back of his hand. 

“Your hands are freezing,” Dell mumbles, and Bo wants to push his damp curls out of his eyes but he just pulls his hand back. Dell seems almost disappointed.

“No, you’ve got a fever, it just feels like it. I’ve gotta get a thermometer though to see what exactly we’re dealing with. What else is....what’s going on? Other than the cough.”

“Head hurts. My nose is a fucking mess, too.” Bo hasn’t seen very much but even still he knows what Dell’s talking about. It’s red, peeling a bit around the base of his nostrils, and every few moments he gives a wet sniffle.  

“Well you definitely need some ibuprofen. And water too, probably. And some tissues.”

“I think that’s a fair conclusion.” He shivers, and Bo gets up to close the window. 

“Alright, well I’ll just go back -” Dell cuts him off.

“No, no, I’ve got everything. In the bathroom,” he says, slumped further on the couch, still shivering. 

“Yeah?” Bo’s a bit surprised. It doesn’t seem like Dell would’ve ever had the need for a thermometer. Ibuprofen is a little easier to understand, but even then he can’t picture Dell ever needing any sort of help. Dell just nods, and Bo walks to the bathroom door, too aware of Dell’s eyes on him. He opens the medicine cabinet and though he’s not sure what he expected, it certainly wasn’t shelves of cold and flu remedies. Even more surprising is that they almost all look half-used.

“You getting lost in there?” Dell calls, and Bo snaps back to the current task, grabbing the thermometer and one of the few bottles of ibuprofen. When he steps back into the larger room, Dell’s slumped on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket.

Bo sits down on the coffee table in front of him and their knees touch. He fiddles with the thermometer for a moment before handing it to Dell, who places it under his tongue. 

“You’ve got a lot of stuff in there,” he says after a few awkward moments of silence and Dell gives a tired smirk. 

“Are you going to ask me about it or is that just an observation?” He says around the small device. Bo tries to backpedal.

“No, I’m - I was just...I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

“And why not?” Dell seems to find it funny, making Bo nervous. 

“I don’t know, I guess -” Dell cuts him off.

“I don’t look like someone who gets sick very often?” He asks, and Bo swallows hard.

“Yeah, I mean I...” Bo tries to think of something that would indicate Dell’s lack of vulnerability. “You’re just always so perfect, I guess.” He almost regrets the words. Is it too obvious to call him perfect? The thermometer beeps before Dell can reply, and Bo’s glad. Well he’s glad until he sees the reading - 102.4. The worry must show on his face because Dell starts to speak.

“What is it?” His voice is so weary.

“102.4, that’s -” Dell cuts him off before he can finish.

“Not so bad. I could probably manage on my own if you don’t want to stay. I wouldn’t hold it against you,” he says, and while for a second Bo thinks it might be some weird guilt trip manipulation tactic, Dell looks completely genuine. Nonchalant even. Bo bites his lip, debating what his response should be. He’s pulled back to reality when Dell starts to sit up.

“Hey, it’s alright, what do you need?” He puts a hand on his shoulder, easing him back into the cushions. Dell looks confused.

“I was gonna grab some water,” he says, and Bo nods.

“Ok, just let me know I’ll get whatever you need.” He’s about to get up when he pauses. “Listen, if you were implying that you want me to leave, I definitely will, but trust me I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to be.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to work without pay,” he says, and Bo sighs.

“It’s not...I’m...” He doesn’t know how else to phrase it without just admitting he cares for him, and he decides it’s not the most pressing thing to address at the moment. “Whatever. Where’s -”

“The kitchen.” He nods toward an archway near the back of the room, and Bo nods. 

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” He’s already in the small - yet somehow still expensive looking - kitchen when he hears Dell speak again.

“You don’t need to tell me you’ll be right back. I can make the assumption,” he calls, and Bo smiles. He’s a little shocked when he opens the fridge. He was expecting it to be empty - the royal family has a chef on staff - but it’s got a decent supply. It’s healthy food too, which makes Bo smile a bit as well. It’s exactly what he’d expect from Dell, it’s the perfection that seeps into everything he touches. There’s no beer, no half-empty ketchup, no old take out containers or anything that could be considered “dessert”. Even in this place where presumably no one but Dell should ever be, everything is perfect. He grabs a bottle of water and walks back into the main room.

“You cook a lot?” he asks, and Dell nods, taking the bottle. He manages to open it even though his hands are shaking. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” He takes a small sip.

“I guess I’m just a surprising person, hm?” Bo’s almost totally distracted from the matter at hand, but when he gets a better look at Dell’s appearance, he feels a  small pang of worry in his chest. He’s really shivering, his cheeks are flushed and his breath is unsteady, his lips chapped from breathing through his mouth.

“Alright, time for ibuprofen.” He grabs the bottle and shakes two into his palm, passing them to Dell who downs them with a swig of water. He starts to cough right after, almost doubling over and burying his face in his sleeve. Bo’s anxious listening, they sound so desperate, trying so hard to expel the illness that sits so heavy in his chest, moving enough to make his cough sound deep and painful, but not enough to give any real relief. 

When he’s finally done he’s almost hyper ventilating trying to catch his breath, and Bo wishes there was something he could do more than just sit and watch. He places a careful hand on Dell’s shoulder and hands him back the water, which Dell drinks eagerly. He lets out a shaky little laugh.

“Sorry, that’s so gross,” he says, his voice still a bit raw from the coughing fit. Bo frowns.

“It’s not, don’t worry about that.” Dell seems to relax a little beneath his hand, closing his eyes, and Bo uses to other to feel his forehead. He probably should’ve asked first, but Dell doesn’t seem to mind, letting out a small contented sigh. He’s really burning, Bo thinks it’s probably safe to say this is the worst fever he’s ever felt. He pulls his hand away. “I’m gonna grab something,” he says, and Dell nods, eyes still closed.

He grabs a washcloth from the bathroom and soaks it in cold water. He wringing out the excess when he hears Dell’s voice.

“Are you coming right back? You didn’t specify.” 

“How can you be so sick and still have energy to tease me?” He asks, arriving back at the couch. He presses the washcloth to Dell’s forehead and he lets out a small sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and Bo moves it to the side of his throat. 

“I haven’t used one of these in forever,” he mumbles, and Bo furrows his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” He flips the compress over, laying the cool side back on his forehead. 

“They’re hard to use. You have to lay really still.” Bo decides it’s finally time to ask the question that’s been eating at him.

“You get sick a lot?” Dell opens his eyes, a little smile on his lips.

“What gave you that idea, Sherlock?” Bo gives an indignant laugh.

“I mean I thought so but, I don’t know, it seemed like a personal question.” Dell raises his eyebrows.

“Well I think it should be pretty obvious. Considering how much we see each other.”

“What?” Bo’s very confused now, and Dell looks surprised, but expression quickly changes to one of understanding.

“How many times have you seen me sick, Bo?” It sounds like a trick question.

“Once. Today. Or twice I guess if you count yesterday.” Dell rubs his eyes.

“Well my mother hired you in January, I believe, so that’s two months. In winter no less.” He stops a moment, as if he’s calculating. “I’ve honestly been sick more often than not, I just thought you knew.”

“What? No, of course I didn’t know. I never - fuck, Dell, I -” His heart feels like it’s breaking. Dell, on the other hand, looks sort of amused.

“It’s ok, really. I like you a little more now though to be honest. I always assumed you just didn’t give a shit, but -”

“Of course I do! I -” He stutters, trying to sift through his memories to find out how he missed this. He’s shocked into silence when Dell puts a hand on his shoulder, then on his cheek. His expression has softened.

“It’s ok. Really. I’ll admit I try not to let it interfere with anything, I guess it’s just obvious to me because I’m the one who feels like shit, but I guess it’s good to hear the facade is almost flawless. You noticed this morning, but I guess this is also an exceptionally shitty cold or flu or whatever.” He takes his hand back, and only then Bo registers how warm it was. He sets his jaw.

“Do you wanna sleep here or in bed?” Dell seems taken aback.

“Uh, bed, I guess?” Bo gives a quick nod and pulls him up, supporting him for the short distance. When he’s seated on the bed, Bo wordlessly starts to collect the thermometer, his water bottle, the extra blanket. When he gets back, he slides the thermometer under his tongue.

“What’s going on?” He says around the device, and Bo gives him a serious look.

“I’m making up for the last two months.”

[instakpop]

Jungkook scenario - Waste it on me

{Image Credit}

Requested by anon

Genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, virgin

Lyric inspiration: So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time waste it on me

His POV

“Hey! I’m on my way over. I’m so glad you called! I feel like we haven’t really hung out in forever. We’ll talk soon, okay? Bye!”

I replayed the voicemail over and over. Adoring the sound of her voice. Y/n. How do I begin to describe her? Do I start with her looks? Her mesmerizing eyes, down to her beautiful legs. She’s gorgeous. And of all the people in the world to spend her night with. She chose me.

But to her, I’m Jungkookie. The purely platonic guy friend who always comes through for her. Especially when she got dumped by her now, exboyfriend. After two and a half years together, she truly thought he was the one, and it killed me. Honestly, he was an alright guy, but there were times when he didn’t seem fully invested in the relationship. She’d look at him with love in her eyes, but he didn’t return the same attention.

“I just hate that I wasted so much time and energy on him. I can never get that back.” She told me. The moment they broke up, she came straight to me. But after a few weeks, I couldn’t hear it anymore. I started coming up with lame excuses to get out of another sob story on my couch. He wasn’t worth her time, to begin with. If anything, I dodged the chance of meeting with her because I was afraid of confessing my feelings to her and ruining my fair shot of being with her.

But now today. Tonight I’m going to sit her down and tell her how I feel. Once and for all. I just had to get the words out. Then it’s all on her. I just can’t keep being just her friend. I’m in love with her.

Your POV

When you arrived at Jungkook’s house, you felt a sense of… relief? you’re always more relaxed around him. You don’t have to put on a brave face or fake a laugh, because he makes you laugh for real.

Before you could knock on the door, Jungkook swung it open, greeting you with a smile. “Hey! Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving you a warm welcome. You went straight for his couch, missing the cozy comfort of it. Every time you came to visit, you both cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie, or have a lazy dinner or just talk about the troubles of life. It’s been a few months since that happened and you never knew why it stopped so suddenly.

“So, How are things?” You asked as Jungkook sat beside you. “It’s been a little while.”

“Yeah. I’ve been good, busy, exhausted, but good.” His smile was slightly unconvincing. But it was probably just a work thing.

“Work?”

“Yeah, among other things.” He held his head low. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You asked. “I haven’t heard from you in months and now you can’t even look at me.”

“Y/n. You did nothing wrong. I just… I can’t say it.”

You took a moment to process. His words and actions weren’t matching up. Why would he have you come here if he can’t tell you what bothers him?

“Is it about you and me? You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

His head shot up, looking at you with both alarm and grief. “No, it’s not that at all. I just… I’m having a complicated issue… with a girl I really like.”

“Oh.” You were relieved. He’s always had a hard time with girls. He rarely shows interest and when he does, he shies away from the subject altogether.

“Yeah. I’ve kinda been friend-zoned.”

“Well, take it from me. You don’t want to dive in too fast. If she was really special she’d see you for the great guy you are.” You rubbed his back, consoling him. “Wait… did you… do anything with her?”

He huffed in amusement and shook his head. “No, Y/n. I didn’t lose my virginity to her.”

“Good. Sex just complicates things even more. Your perfect girl will come. She just needs time to meet you.”

“So you’ve said.” He rubbed his neck, clearly exhibiting how uncomfortable he is.

“Well, let’s change the subject. Do you wanna order in? Pizza?”

“Sure. I’ll go order it. The usual?”

“Yes, please!” You replied, happily. You were glad you two were able to get that out of the way. Jungkook is so important to you to let him getaway.

His POV

YOU IDIOT! I thought. It was the perfect opportunity to tell her how I felt but instead, I just made someone else up. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I always shut down? I let every moment get away from me. Not anymore. I’m gonna go right back in there and just say it. This just can’t go on.

I almost turned the corner when my stomach rumbled. Maybe I should order food first.

---

When I came back into the room she went ahead and turn the TV on to the movie channel.

“Okay. The pizza will be here in 30 minutes.” This is it. Tell her what’s on your mind in the next thirty minutes.

I sat back down beside her and tried to relax. She scooted closer and rested her head on my shoulder. In an instant, it felt just like the last, nearly three years, never even happened. She was never someone else's and I could still be the shoulder she leans on. But, just like all the times before, I started to daydream. I pretended that she was mine, and she cuddled with me, not because I’m her friend, but because she loved me back.

I looked down at her sparkling eyes as she watched the film, her soft hair on my neck and her soft lips. God, I wanted to kiss her so badly. But I can’t.

“You know. I’ve always admired you for waiting for the right person.” She said abruptly. “I feel like I should have waited longer for my first time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Most guys would pounce on the opportunity to lose their virginity, but you’re different. You’re holding out for a girl you truly love.”

This is it. Say it! “Like you?” Oh god… I said it…

“What?” She lifted her head from y shoulder and looked me deep in the eyes.

“L-like you,” I repeated, feeling a little less confident. “I… I love you Y/n. I want it to be you.”

By heart is pounding in my throat. She’s just staring at me. Everything we’ve been through, everything we can be, depends on this moment.

With a soft sigh, she bows her head. “Jungkook.” Her she said with a small break in her voice. ”you shouldn't waste something like that on a mess like me.”

I grabbed her hand, reviving my courage within a second. ”Y/n you are not a waste. You're the only girl I've ever connected with. You're the first girl I've ever fallen for and those feelings haven't changed… you may have thought he was the one but I know for a fact that you are the one for me.”

She looked back up at me, tears threatening to fall. I didn’t want to make her sad. If I could take all the pain away I would. But first. I had to know how she felt about me.

“Please say something,” I begged

“Jungkook, I-” The doorbell rang, briefly breaking the tension in the room.

I groaned softly and Y/n let out a giggle. At least someone made her happy, if only for a moment. I got off the couch and grabbed my wallet. Quickly I paid the delivery person and hurried back to the couch, setting our dinner on the table in front of us.

“So, what are you thinking?” I asked.

“Well… I’d be lying if I said I never thought of you… in that way.” She said, avoiding eye contact. “But I’m just not sure. Your friendship means everything to me. I can’t just do this with you and have you regret it.”

I took her hands again, urging her to understand. “Y/n, this isn’t just about you being my first. Just sitting here on the couch makes me fall harder for you. I want a relationship with you.”

After what felt like forever, she finally looked up at me. The sadness and confusion in her eyes have faded away and I begin to feel like I really have a shot.

Your POV

The way he looks at you says it all. You’re not just a friend, you’re not a fantasy. You really are the girl he’s been waiting for. Not just to take his virginity, but to be his girlfriend, his partner, his lover. You wanted to say yes, you wanted to show him the ways of love, but for the first time in all your years of knowing each other, Jungkook finally made the first move.

He leaned right in, bringing his lips to yours in a chaste, gentle, loving kiss. Your heart melted at the feel of his kiss. You held his cheeks in your hands, kissing him back. You both sat there, pouring every emotion, every missed opportunity, every hope for what this could be into it.

You hummed to your self, smiling a little. You with you knew it sooner, but he’s actually an amazing kisser. His lips moved with yours, creating sparks and tingles throughout your body. He pulled you in closer by your waist, needing more of you. Under other circumstances, you would let him take you here on the couch, but he deserved more than that. He deserved something he’d remember fondly.

You broke away, unable to hide your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, catching his breath and grinning right back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He confessed.

“Then let’s continue this, elsewhere.”

You get off the couch, offering him your hands. He smirked at you and willingly accepted. You both walked hand in hand to his room, eager to capitalize on this turn of events. You turned back to him, kissing him again. There’s a very high chance that you’ll become addicted to his kisses.

“Lie down.” You instructed. He did as you said, hurrying to sit on his bed.

His POV

It’s happening. Y/n is about to be my first.

She stood in front of me, smiling confidently as she raised her top over her head, tossing it aside. She stared deep into my eyes as she pulled her skinny jeans down her legs. Skillfully, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor in front of her. I watched every movement, hypnotized by her gorgeous body It was like a dream. A dream I’ve had so many times.

Slowly, she walked toward me, taking my hands in hers and placing them on the waistband of her cotton panties. I blinked a few times, both trying to enjoy this moment and hold on to the reality of it. I pulled them off, gradually moving down her smooth legs until they hit the floor.

It was as if my breath completely left my lungs. My mouth watered at the sight of her womanhood.

Y/n lifted my chin, meeting my lustful gaze. “Your turn.” She purred. This girl will be the death of me.

Your POV

You could tell he was relaxed. You wished your first time was more like this. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even enjoy it. To make things worse, your boyfriend at the time hardly lasted two minutes. He couldn’t have cared less if he was pleasing you… which he didn’t. At all.

Jungkook deserved more though. He needed someone who can make him feel comfortable in his own skin. After all, that’s all you have to wear in these situations.

He stripped out of his shirt, but his nerves began to set in again when he got to his belt buckle. His hands started to shake, making it difficult to unbuckle. You came forward quickly. Helping him with it. Straddling him, you unbuttoned his pants, His breath hitched when you grazed his growing bulge. He stared at your breasts, swallowing hard.

Smiling, you hung your arms over his shoulders. “Touch me.”

With a long breath, Jungkook cupped your breasts, gently massaging them. You hummed in pleasure; Loving his pure touch. Leaning forward, you kissed his temple. Nothing felt forced or awkward with him. He loves you for who you are, and now, you’ve come to realize that you love him too.

His lips pressed to the base of your neck, right between your collarbones. You are certain he could feel your pulse flutter against his lips. Holding his face in your hands, you lifted his head. The look in his eyes was exactly what you needed to see. It was a look you’ve never been on the receiving end of. Genuine, unconditional love. It was enough to take your breath away.

He leaned up and kissed you, hard. His hands traveled from your breasts to your hips. This was it.

You broke away briefly, lining yourself up to his erect cock. “Ready?” You asked.

“Now more than ever.” He answered.

Without another word, you sank down; slowly, carefully, gradually inching onto his lap. His sweet lips parted, his big brown eyes closed as he felt your wet heat take him in, little by little.

His POV

It’s completely indescribable. The feel of her had me seeing stars. She’s so… tight, and warm around me. Wait… am I hurting her?

My eyes flew open in a slight panic. “Are you okay?”

Judging by the look on her face, I seriously doubt she’s in any pain. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were barely closed as her hips met mine.

“Mmm, Yes. I’m okay.” She said, almost in a moan. God, she’s sexy. She knows exactly what she wants. I just have to try and keep up.

I kissed her neck and she grinded on me, jolting, suddenly. The thought of me hurting her returned quickly but, once again, she moaned; louder this time.

“Oh, baby~,” She said in a seductive voice.

My confusion melted away when I realized, she found her g-spot… because of me. I smiled to myself and bucked my hips, making her moan out loud a third time.

“You’re teasing me now?” She said, staring down at me.

I grabbed her hips tighter, moving her up a little. She took the hint and started to move. Every time she came down, she grinded into me. I laid back on the bed, moving my hips up to match hers.

“Jungkook~” I loved the way she said my name like that. I wanted to make her feel like this all the time. She’s mine. No one else’s.

Your POV

After a while, you started to get a little harder with your thrusts. The sound of skin slapping as you bounced filled the room. Every time you looked at him, you felt your heart skip a beat. This was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Before it was just sex, but here, with him, you’re making love. It’s equally emotional and physical. You’re in love with your best friend.

You started feeling your stomach tighten. Your arms were covered in goosebumps and your palms went up in tingles. You were close. 

“Y-Y/n…” Jungkook was close too, but he was starting to worry.

“It’s okay, baby. Let go. Let it all go.”

Suddenly, your climax came at full force. You clutched his chests and your back arched. Jungkook held onto you as he came deep inside you. He quivered and growled under you. He has never been sexier. The sight of him caused a few aftershocks, but soon enough, your limbs went weak and you laid beside him on his bed.

His POV

My first time. It’s something I will remember forever. Because of her. It wasn’t just with anyone. It was with the one girl I’ve been in love with for years. My Y/n. I turned over, watching her glow under the dimmed bedroom lights. She looks angelic.

After a moment, she broke the silence. “You know… In a way that was a first for me too.” 

“Really? How?”

“I’ve been in intimate relationships but I’ve never truly made love like that.” She turned her head to look back at me and smiled. “Ever.”

“So, it was good for you too?” I asked.

She giggled at my seemingly ridiculous question.

“Of course.” Her hand came up to caress my cheek. “I love you, Jungkook.”

My heart swelled. Tears pricked my eyes but I blinked that away and replied, “I love you too, Y/n. Always.” I took her hand, pressing it to my lips.

She and I laid there for a while longer, passing a few sweet nothings before she fell asleep. I had a few minutes to gaze at her before I drifted to sleep as well.

Your POV

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by the sun streaming in. Normally you would fight the urge to wake up and fall back to sleep, but you wanted to see Jungkook. You opened your eyes, but no one was there.

You sprung up, terrified that he left. Oh, god. He regrets last night. You wrapped a sheet around yourself and rushed to the living room, hoping he was still here.

“Jungkook?” You called out.

“In the kitchen.” He hollered.

You released a long exhale, glad he hasn’t run away. You went into the kitchen, smirking when you spotted your marks on his chest.

“Morning, beautiful.” He walked over to you, kissing you sweetly.

“Hmm~ Handsome.” You responded.

“I’m glad your up. I was just about to serve up breakfast.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“I don’t, but the masterful people at the pizza place down the street do.” He pulled the reheated pizza out of the oven and grinned. “Leftovers, baby!”

You laughed at his goofy mood and took his hands. “Maybe after breakfast, we can experience another first time together.”

“What would that be?” He asked, inching closer to you.

You gave him a lust-filled smile and said, “...Sex in the kitchen.”

THE END

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 30

The end of the year was quickly approaching and everyone from our group agreed on a strategic plan to meet up and head downtown to enjoy the New Year’s Eve festivities. Though I was thrilled to be bringing in the New Year with all my friends, I couldn’t help but feel remorseful throughout the day because I knew there was one important person who I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the occasion with… Trey. Unbeknownst to me, I wore every bit of my emotions on my sleeve and the one person in the world to read me better than I could read my own self was right by my side to notice… “What’s the matter with you girl?” Destani asked as she stood behind me, brushing my hair up into a slick poof at the very top of my head. I hadn't noticed that I’d fallen into a trance with the deepest frown to show for it “What? Oh… nothing.” Wrapping her hand around the end of my ponytail, she gently tilted my head to one side and peered down at me with a raised brow “And why are you lying? I see it all in your face… something ain’t right with you. What’s up?” Sighing, I stared down at my twiddling thumbs and silently wished that sometimes she didn’t know me so well. “Well, let’s just use you for an example. Let’s say that tonight you were going out with one particular guy to celebrate the New Year, but there was this other guy that you’ve been spending a lot of time with that you’re not gonna be with to bring in the New Year. How would you feel about that?” With a huff, she stopped what she was doing altogether and glared down at me “Well first of all, my attention would be all on the guy that I know I’ll actually be with and not the guy who I won’t be with… even though it’s quite sad to know that he’s not gonna be bringing in the New Year with me,” She shook her head sadly and shut her eyes momentarily before continuing on, “And second of all, I’m pretty sure Trey will be alright. Besides, you’ve been so wrapped up in him for the past month that you’ve barely had any sort of time for the one who really matter’s in this situation.” “Who?” I asked. “Chris!” “But that’s the thing Dez, I have been spending time with Chris since Christmas and I haven’t talked to Trey at all since then.” “Sy’Diyah, you don’t get it do you? You’ve been down with Chris since you were eight years old and now all of a sudden, some random nigga who looks good snatches your attention away. There is something wrong with that picture if you ask me… especially since Chris’s fine yellow ass is a single man now.” With a deep sigh I shut my eyes... I was beginning to feel the first signs of a looming headache “It’s not about how long I’ve been friends with Chris, Destani. It’s about the fact that he’s had all this time to make up his mind and make something happen with us, but has he approached me yet to tell me exactly how he feels? No, he hasn’t.” “So why does he have to be the one to make the first move?” She asked with an exaggerated smack of her lips. “What do you mean?” “I mean, I’m pretty sure you also haven’t told him how you feel so why are you sitting around waiting on him to make the first move? If you can’t handle seeing him gallivanting around in your face with other females, then maybe it’s time for you to make your move and go claim your man… shit, maybe he’s waiting on you.” With yet another sigh, I decided to clamp my mouth shut and claim defeat in this argument, because I knew that she was ultimately right. Once Destani was done with my hair, I headed for my closet to gather up my outfit for the night. “I hope you not mad boo.” She blurted. “No, I’m not.” “Well why are you so quiet?” “Just… thinking.” “You know what,” She started, following me into my closet, “New Year’s resolution for you… stop thinking about shit so much. It clouds your mind and you end up missing out on what’s really going on around you.” “Okay Dr. Phil, I’ll stop thinking.” I snickered as she rolled her eyes. -- Nearly half an hour later, Destani and I were dressed and waiting down in the den for the remainder of the group to arrive. We sat there, lightly conversing and watching the beginning of a few New Year’s countdowns on the television when the doorbell finally rang. “Hey hoes… oh, girl that purse is cute.” I could hear Destani’s loud voice from the foyer as she greeted Tameka and Nalay. “Hey Sy, you look so cute!” Nalay commented once she made her way into the den. “Thanks Nay, so do you.” I noted as I stood to greet her with a hug. Planting ourselves on the plush couches in the den, we engaged in small talk as we waited for the boys to show. As if on cue, the doorbell rang once more and within minutes everyone from our group finally stood altogether in the den, arguing over who would ride with who. Standing off to one side of the room, I held back my laughter as I watched them fuss amongst themselves and I gasped and nearly choked at the sudden feeling of a strong pair of hands gliding along my hips. “You riding with me right?” I heard his voice and smelled the sweet mint on his breath before I saw him, but I instantly grinned at the thought of that picture-perfect face. Without hesitation, I nodded in agreement and followed his lead as he grabbed my hand and led me toward the front door. “Where the hell ya’ll going?” Tameka asked as we passed her. “To my truck,” Chris replied without pausing to look back, “And whoever else is riding in it better come the fuck on.” The simplicity of his statement triggered a chain reaction and soon, it was decided that Destani and Rashad with ride with Chris and I, and BJ and Dontay would ride with Nalay and Tameka. We cruised along down the road to the tune of Meek Mill’s B-boy and Destani and Rashad entertained themselves in the backseat by rapping along to the song as loud as they could. I could feel the truck creeping to a stop and I didn’t even bother to look up to see if we’d made it downtown… my mind was completely consumed with the dilemma I’d discussed with Destani earlier. I twitched and immediately snapped out of my daze once I felt the warmth of Chris's hand hovering over mine. “What’s the matter?” “Oh… nothing.” I mumbled, glancing at him only to find him already staring right back. He stared for a few more seconds until the light became green then finally returned his attention to the road “You can tell me about it later.” I stared at him utterly amazed at his ability, much like Destani’s, to understand when there was something bothering me. It didn't take long for me to become immersed in the sight of him and in that instance, I could truly appreciate the relationship that we shared. I gazed at him, mesmerized by the way he wore his simple blue fitted hoodie and dark denim fitted jeans. He wore stark white Jordan’s to match the white fitted resting perfectly atop his head and the glistening watch on his right wrist accentuated the Charlie Brown chain resting peacefully around his neck… “Sy’Diyah!” I blinked back to reality and peered through the windshield to see that the entire group had exited the truck, leaving Chris and I as the only two still inside. “Huh?” I muttered stupidly. “We’re here now, come on.” He smirked. With a nod, I pushed my door open and climbed down out of the truck then carefully shut it behind myself. Chris moved swiftly around to my side and tossed an arm loosely over my shoulders, pulling me securely to his side “You wanna tell me what’s bothering you now or later?” “I don’t want to tell you what’s bothering me ever because there is nothing bothering me.” I countered. “Hope,” He uttered, nudging his hip against my side, “You know damn well you can’t lie for shit right?” I giggled and rested my head against his arm “Well then I guess I’ll tell you later.” -- “Ohhh, look!” I cooed, pulling away from Chris’s protective grasp to make a beeline directly toward a shelf full of New Year’s glasses in a quaint corner store we’d come across. He watched with twinkling eyes full of humor as I snagged a pair and headed for the nearest mirror to view myself. I snickered at my own reflection and instantly doubled over with laughter as Chris approached me with a matching pair of strobe light glasses. “These hoes are fly right? We should get em.” He stated with a wide grin. “Yes… you get those and I’ll get these.” “Cool.” He smiled giddily as he bit into the center of his bottom lip. The most feminine squeal fled his lips the moment he turned to faced yet another shelf piled with New Year’s hats, crowns, and a plethora of other items. By the time we left the store, Chris was sporting a pair of bright blue flashing glasses while I wore all white glasses and a red and gold tiara. We sauntered on along through the crowded streets of downtown Richmond and I could feel Chris dancing around behind me to the boisterous music blaring all around us. I looked up as the music grew louder to see an illuminated sign that read Club Illusion. I gawked at the brilliant sign of the club, failing to notice that we were moving directly toward the entrance. “Wait Chris, where are we going?” I asked once I felt him press a hand firmly against my lower back, ushering me closer to the club. “In here.” He said, reaching around behind me to point up at the sign. “We can’t go in here, look at the line. And I’m pretty sure it’s an eighteen and up club… Chris I can’t go in there.” Panic was beginning to set in as he aligned both hands against my hips, gripping tightly as he guided me directly toward the front of the line. Glancing up from the clipboard resting in his hands, the bouncer grinned immediately and held out a hand almost too eagerly to greet Chris “Aye, what’s up Kin?” Chris slid the glasses down from his face and stepped forward to return the handshake “What’s happening Bigga?” I stood at his side, curious by his exchange with the large black man. I wasn’t sure if I was hearing things or if this man was seeing things, but I was sure he’d mistaken Chris for someone else. “Aye Kin, you know the spot is poppin big time tonight man. You head on in my nigga, cause I’m tellin you,” He paused, leaning in closer to Chris with a sly grin, “The bitches is bad as hell and they already know you gonna be in the building tonight.” Chris chuckled along with this “Bigga” person and tossed an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into place at his side “Nah man, I’m not on that tonight. Just tryna bring in the New Year with my lady.” With an understanding nod, the bouncer smirked and winked in my direction before reaching over and unlatching the red rope leading into the club “I respect that boss man. You two enjoy yourselves.” I followed closely behind Chris as he walked through the open entrance and tried to tune out the merciless comments from the sea of females behind me. We journeyed through a small hallway leading to one of the main areas of the club and the deeper into the building we traveled, the more people lingered against the walls of the hall. I watched everyone around me carefully and rolled my eyes with irritation at the sight of nearly every single female in the near vicinity gawking at the guy latched possessively onto my arm. “Say lil mama, why don’t you let lil pretty boy go and come fuck with a real nigga?” An unfamiliar voice called out off to my side, but I prepared to keep moving into the club because I was sure he wasn’t referring to me. “How about you watch who the fuck you talking to bruh.” Chris barked, barely turning his attention to our bold intruder. “And how about you watch who the fuck you talking to, fuck ass nigga? I believe I was speaking to the beautiful young lady here.” The exchange happened quickly and before I knew it, Chris had turned his full attention to the guy and whipped me around to stand behind him. He eyed the man menacingly, lining his face up directly in front of his. Within seconds the once tense shoulders of the man relaxed and if I wasn’t mistaken… a strike of fear flashed in his eyes. “Or how about I stick my foot so far up your fucking ass it fills your big ass mouth so it can help you shut the fuck up, homeboy?” His tone hadn’t raised an octave, but the look in his eye was deadly and not to be questioned. “Aye man, I was just fucking with you dawg. I ain’t mean to disrespect you or your woman Kin… I swear I was fucking with you man.” He stumbled back away from us and once he was out of Chris’s arm reach, he moved full speed for the club’s exit. I stood stock still and frozen with fear as I watched Chris, unaware that for the first time I had encountered a side to him that would make more of an impact on my life than I could ever imagine... TBC...