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hd-junglebook · 3 days

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It's Always Been You

Part 3

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Word Count - 4,855

A:N this isn't exactly what I pictured for this chapter, but it goes into more detail about their feelings. Which idk about you, but I have been dying to figure out.

Y/N stepped out of the apartment building, the cold night air whipping at her face and stinging her tear-stained cheeks. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose herself as she made her way down the sidewalk, her heels clicking against the pavement.

As she approached the curb, she saw a sleek grey Mercedes parked along the street, its engine idling softly. The driver's side door opened, and a tall, handsome man stepped out, a concerned expression on his face as he hurried to greet her.

"Hi," he said, his voice warm and slightly hesitant. "Are you alright? I got scared you were gonna ditch me out here."

Y/N forced a laugh, the sound hollow and brittle to her own ears. She felt a pang of guilt at the concern in his voice. If only he knew how close she had come to canceling.

How the thought of walking back into that apartment and facing Jack again made her stomach churn with a sickening mixture of heartbreak and humiliation.

She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over once again.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it, couldn't bear the thought of spending another night alone in her room, crying herself to sleep over a man who would never love her the way she wanted him to.

So instead, she pasted on a smile, straightening her shoulders with false bravado, hoping that the dim streetlights would hide the redness of her eyes and the tremor in her hands.

"No, no, I wouldn't do that," she said, her voice falsely bright. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. I just had a little trouble finding my keys." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Liam studied her face for a moment, his blue eyes searching hers. His brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? You look upset." He reached out tentatively, his fingertips grazing her arm in a comforting gesture.

Y/n hesitated, chewing on her lower lip as she debated whether to tell him the truth. She had only matched with Liam a while ago, and the last thing she wanted was to burden him with her problems.

But there was something about his gentle, caring demeanor that made her feel safe and understood. She met his gaze, seeing only kindness and warmth reflected back at her.

"It's nothing," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She averted her gaze, focusing on a crack in the sidewalk. "Me and my roommate just had a disagreement. Happens all the time." The words felt flimsy, a poor attempt to downplay the depth of her pain.

Liam's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the icy cold that surrounded them.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I hope tonight makes you feel better." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing gesture.

Y/N nodded, blinking back fresh tears. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "I'm sure it will Liam." She managed a small, grateful smile, hoping it reached her eyes.

The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he held out his hand to her. "No worries," he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

"I'm just glad you're here. I've been looking forward to this all week." His excitement was palpable, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flicker of warmth in her chest at his words, a tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, this night wouldn't be a complete disaster.

She hesitated for a brief moment before placing her hand in his, letting him help her into the car, the leather seats cool and smooth against her bare legs. The simple chivalrous gesture made her feel cared for, a welcome change from the emptiness that had consumed her.

As they climbed into the warmth of the Mercedes, Y/N felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope. Maybe, just maybe, Liam could help her forget about Jack, even for a little while.

She glanced over at him as he settled into the driver's seat, admiring the strong line of his jaw and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel with easy confidence.

they drove away from the curb, Y/N leaned her head back against the headrest, her eyes drifting closed as she tried to block out the memory of Jack's words, the look of pity and regret on his face as he shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths, focusing on the present moment and the possibility of a fresh start.

.…

Jacks POV

Jack stormed back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. His heart heart throbbed violently, a nauseating mixture of anger, jealousy, and regret churning in his stomach as he replayed the conversation with Y/N over and over again in his mind.

He paced the length of the living room, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to calm the rage that threatened to consume him. The apartment felt too small, too cramped, the walls closing in on him as he struggled to breathe past the lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, he saw reminders of Y/N - the soft grey blanket she always curled up with on movie nights, the stack of her favorite books on the coffee table, the framed picture of the two of them at graduation, their arms around each other and their smiles wide and carefree.

He picked up the picture and stared at it for a long moment, his heart aching. He couldn't believe that everything was over. They had been together for so long, he couldn't imagine his life without her. He threw the picture across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

He sank down on the couch, his head in his hands.

With a growl of frustration, Jack snatched up his phone, his fingers shaking as he opened the tracking app and searched for Y/N's location. He knew it was wrong, knew that he had no right to invade her privacy like this, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know where she was, needed to know that she was safe.

The app showed her moving through the city, the little red dot that represented her weaving through the streets at a steady pace. Jack watched it for a long moment, his heart clenching with every passing second, before he finally tore his eyes away, disgusted with himself.

He stalked into the kitchen, his mind racing as he tried to think of something, anything, to distract himself from the pain that threatened to tear him apart.

His eyes fell on the recipe box that Y/N had brought with her when she moved in, the faded index cards inside filled with her grandmother's handwriting and the smells of childhood memories.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jack pulled the box open and flipped through the cards, his fingers tracing the loops and whorls of each letter.

He stopped at a card that had 'Grandma's Best Chocolate Chip Cookies' written in large, loopy letters. It was Y/N's favorite recipe, the one she always used to make when she was feeling down or just wanted to fill the house with the scent of home.

Jack was pulling out ingredients, his hands moving on autopilot as he measured and mixed and stirred, his movements slow and deliberate. He measured the flour and sugar, added the butter and eggs, and then stirred in the chocolate chips.

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air, the warm, comforting scent of Y/N's favorite cookies wrapping around him like a hug.

Jack took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He could do this. He could make these cookies, and maybe, just maybe, it would help him to feel a little bit closer to Y/N.

But even as he worked, his mind wouldn't let him rest. He kept seeing the look on Y/N's face as he told her he didn't feel the same way, the way her eyes had filled with tears and her lips had trembled with the effort of holding back a sob.

He kept hearing the sound of her heels clicking on the floor as she walked away from him, the finality of it like a knife to the heart.

The cookies came out of the oven, golden brown and perfect, but Jack barely noticed. He was too busy pacing the length of the kitchen, his phone clutched in his hand as he checked Y/N's location over and over again, watching as the little red dot moved further and further away from him.

The hours ticked by, the night deepening outside the windows as Jack lost himself in his thoughts. The apartment was a mess, the kitchen counter covered in flour and sugar and dirty mixing bowls, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

All he could think about was Y/N, and the way he had ruined everything with his cowardice and his fear.

Finally, as the first rays of dawn began to peek through the curtains, Jack collapsed onto the couch, his body exhausted and his heart heavy with the weight of his mistakes.

He closed his eyes, the image of Y/N's tear-stained face burned into his mind like a brand, a reminder of everything he had lost and everything he had thrown away.

Jack knew that he had no one to blame but himself, knew that he had let his own insecurities and doubts get in the way of something that could have been beautiful.

And now, as he lay there in the silence of the empty apartment, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon still lingering in the air, he couldn't help but wonder if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

…

Jack stood at the edge of the rink, his eyes glued to his phone as he refreshed Y/N's location for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Three days had passed since their argument, three days since she had walked out of the apartment and out of his life, and he still hadn't heard a word from her.

He had texted her countless times, his messages ranging from frantic apologies to desperate pleas for her to come home. But every time, he was met with silence, the little blue checkmarks next to his messages taunting him with their unresponsiveness.

The sound of skates scraping against the ice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Nico gliding towards him, a concerned expression on his face. Jack quickly shoved his phone into his pocket, hoping that his teammate hadn't noticed the way his hands were shaking.

"What's wrong with you, Jack?" Nico asked, his thick Swiss accent making the words sound even more blunt than they already were. "Did you break up with your girlfriend again?"

Jack flinched at the question, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. If only it were that simple, he thought bitterly. If only he had a girlfriend to break up with, instead of a best friend he had driven away with his own stupidity and cowardice.

"No," he said, his voice rough and hoarse from lack of sleep. "It's not that. It's... it's Y/N."

Nico's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his eyes widening as he took in the dark circles beneath Jack's eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks. "Y/N?" he repeated, his voice laced with confusion. "What happened with Y/N?"

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't told anyone about the argument, hadn't wanted to admit to the world how badly he had screwed things up.

But standing there on the ice, with Nico looking at him with such concern and understanding, he felt the words spilling out of him before he could stop them.

"I messed up," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I told her I didn't feel the same way about her, and now she's gone. She hasn't come home in three days, and she won't answer any of my texts or calls. I don't know what to do."

“You idiot,” he said, but his voice lacked any real malice. “Why would you say something like that to her? You know how much she cares about you.”

“I know,” Jack said miserably. “I just... I panicked. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to hurt her. But I guess I did anyway.”

Nico was silent for a moment, his eyes searching Jack's face as if he were trying to read the truth behind his words. Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle but firm.

"Jack," he said, his hand coming up to rest on his teammate's shoulder. "I know you care about Y/N, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to give her space, need to let her come to you when she's ready."

Jack shook his head, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. "I can't," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose her, Nico. She's my best friend, the most important person in my life. I don't know how to be without her."

Nico sighed, his eyes softening with sympathy. "I know," he said, his voice almost tender. "But you can't force her to forgive you, Jack. You have to let her come to that decision on her own. And in the meantime, you need to focus on taking care of yourself. You're no good to anyone if you're running yourself into the ground like this."

Jack knew that Nico was right, knew that he couldn't keep going on like this. But the thought of letting go, of giving up on the one person who meant everything to him, made his chest ache with a pain that felt almost physical.

"I don't know if I can do that," he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

Nico smiled, his hand squeezing Jack's shoulder in a gesture of comfort and support. "You are," he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence.

"You're one of the strongest people I know, Jack. And you're not alone in this. Your team is here for you, and we'll support you every step of the way."

Jack felt a rush of gratitude at his teammate's words, a tiny flicker of hope sparking to life in his chest. He knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, that there would be days when the pain would feel like too much to bear.

But with his friends by his side, and the memory of Y/N's smile to guide him, he knew that he could find his way back to the light, no matter how dark the path might seem.

"Thanks, Nico," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Nico grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Probably drive yourself crazy," he said, his tone teasing. "But that's what friends are for, right?"

Jack laughed, the sound weak and watery, but genuine, nonetheless. And as he stepped back onto the ice, his skates cutting through the smooth surface with a newfound sense of purpose.

…

y/n’s POV

Y/N sat on Liam's couch, her phone clutched in her hand as she scrolled mindlessly through her social media feeds. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the shower running in the bathroom. She tried to focus on the pictures and posts flashing across her screen, but her mind kept drifting back to the one person she was trying so hard to forget.

Jack.

The name echoed in her mind like a heartbeat, a constant reminder of the pain and heartbreak she had left behind. It had been three days since she had walked out of their apartment, three days since she had last seen his face or heard his voice.

And yet, he was still there, lurking in the corners of her mind like a ghost she couldn't shake.

She knew that she was just using Liam as a distraction, a way to numb the ache in her chest and forget about the hole in her heart. But he was a good one, always there with a smile and a joke whenever she needed it most.

Whenever she found herself slipping back into thoughts of Jack, Liam would appear at her side, his presence a comforting reminder that she wasn't alone.

Y/N sighed, her fingers hovering over her phone screen as she debated whether to check Jack's social media. She knew it was a bad idea, knew that seeing his face would only make the pain worse. But a part of her couldn't help but wonder what he was doing, couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of her too.

Before she could give in to the temptation, the sound of Liam's voice broke through her thoughts.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower, Y/N," he called out, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he grabbed some clothes from his bedroom.

Y/N looked up from her phone, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Okay, don't take too long," she called back, her voice light and teasing.

She heard the bathroom door click shut, and then the sound of the shower turning on, the water pattering against the tiles in a steady rhythm. Y/N leaned back against the couch cushions, her eyes drifting closed as she tried to push away the thoughts of Jack that still lingered in her mind.

But even as she sat there, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Liam's apartment, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The ache in her chest was still there, a constant reminder of the love she had lost and the friendship she had left behind.

Jack's absence left a void that no amount of distraction could fill, and Y/n was beginning to realize that she needed to confront her feelings head-on. The sound of running water filled the room, Y/n closed her eyes, steeling herself for the inevitable confrontation with her emotions.

Her phone pinging broke the silence of his living room. "can’t wait to see you! mom and I gonna pick you up from the airport." The text from Luke read.

Y/N's heart sank as she read the text message, the words on the screen a stark reminder of the life she had left behind. In the whirlwind of emotions and distractions of the past few days, she had completely forgotten about their planned weekend trip back to Michigan.

She cursed under her breath, her mind already racing with the logistics of packing and getting to the airport on time. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was already 10:30, and she knew that Jack would likely be home by now, probably wondering where she was and why she hadn't come back.

With a sigh, Y/N threw her phone into her purse and made her way over to the bathroom door. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the wood as she debated what to say. Finally, she knocked softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

"Hey Liam," she called out, her tone apologetic. "I totally forgot I have a weekend trip to pack for. I need to head out."

There was a pause, and then the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back. Liam peeked his head out, his hair damp and his skin glistening with water droplets. He had a small smile on his lips, but Y/N could see the disappointment lurking in his eyes.

"Oh, okay," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Do you need a ride? I can take you."

Y/N hesitated, the offer tempting in its simplicity. It would be so easy to let Liam drive her home, to put off the inevitable confrontation with Jack for just a little while longer.

But she knew that she couldn't keep running forever, knew that eventually, she would have to face the music and deal with the consequences of her actions.

"No, that's okay," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I can take a cab. I don't want to put you out."

Liam shook his head, his smile widening. "Don't be silly," he said, his tone light and teasing. "I was just getting out anyway. Let me drive you back home."

Y/N felt a rush of gratitude at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest at the kindness and generosity of his offer. She knew that she was lucky to have him in her life, knew that he would always be there for her, no matter what the future might hold.

"Okay," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Liam. I really appreciate it."

Liam grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anything for you, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with a fondness that made her heart ache. "Just give me a minute to get dressed, and we'll be on our way."

Y/N nodded, her throat tight with emotion as she watched him disappear back into the bathroom. She knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, that there would be moments of doubt and uncertainty.

And as she stood there, waiting for Liam to emerge from the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, the journey ahead would lead her back to the place she had always called home, back to the love that had always been waiting for her, just out of reach.

…

The hallway was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the soft glow of the emergency exit sign at the end of the corridor. Her footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor, each step bringing her closer to the door of the apartment she shared with Jack.

Y/N's heart raced as she stepped out of the elevator, the familiar scent of home filling her nostrils.

Liam followed close behind her, his presence a comforting warmth at her back. Y/N could feel the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her shirt, and for a moment, she allowed herself to lean into him, to draw strength from his solid, steady presence.

But just as they were about to reach the door, Liam's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around Y/N's wrist and pulling her back towards him. She let out a gasp of surprise, her heart leaping into her throat as she spun around to face him.

In the dim light of the hallway, Liam's face was shadowed, his features obscured by the darkness. But Y/N could still see the glint of his eyes, the curve of his lips as he smiled down at her. His breath ghosted across her cheek, warm and slightly sweet, like he had just taken a sip of hot cocoa.

Y/N's heart raced as Liam pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist like a coil of heat. The hallway was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the soft glow of the elevator buttons behind them.

The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and the faint aroma of cleaning products, a sharp contrast to the warm, spicy scent of Liam's cologne.

His face was mere inches from hers, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the sound so loud that she was sure he could hear it too.

"I had a great few days with you," Liam murmured, his voice low and husky. His fingers trailed up her spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Y/N shivered, her skin tingling with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

She knew that she should pull away, knew that this was a dangerous game to play. But there was something about the way Liam looked at her, something about the heat in his gaze and the strength of his touch, that made her feel alive in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the sound of the elevator and the hum of the fluorescent lights receding into the background.

All Y/N could focus on was the warmth of Liam's body against hers, the way his fingers tangled in her hair and his breath mingled with her own.

She didn't hear the soft ding of the elevator arriving on their floor, didn't hear the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, the rush of blood in her ears as Liam leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above her own.

Her head was spinning, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger, frustration, and desperation. It was time to stop chasing after a dream that would never come true, time to stop pining for a man who would never see her as anything more than a friend.

And in that moment, something inside her snapped. Before she could think twice, Y/N reached up and grabbed Liam's face, pulling him down to her level and crashing her lips against his.

The kiss was hot and hungry, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing that had been building inside her for so long. Y/N poured everything she had into that kiss, every ounce of emotion and desire and desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find with Liam what she had always wanted with Jack.

But even as Liam's arms wrapped around her waist, even as his tongue tangled with hers and his hands roamed over her body, Y/N knew that it wasn't enough.

The spark that she felt with Jack, the electricity that crackled between them every time they touched, was conspicuously absent.

Kissing Liam was nice, but it didn't set her soul on fire the way Jack's mere presence did.

Finally, Y/N pulled back, her chest heaving and her lips swollen. She looked up at Liam, her eyes searching his face for some sign of the connection she so desperately craved.

But all she saw was a man who cared for her, who wanted to be there for her, but who could never make her feel the way Jack did.

"I'll see you when I get back, Liam," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Three days. And I’ll come home."

Liam's face softened, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. "Okay, Y/N," he murmured, his voice gentle and understanding. "Don’t forget about me." And so, with a final, shuddering breath, Y/N pulled back from Liam's embrace, her eyes shining with a new determination.

"Y/N?"

Y/N's shoulders tensed, her heart leaping into her throat as she spun around to face the source of the sound. And there, standing at the end of the hallway, his face a mask of shock and hurt, was Jack.

The sight of him hit her like a punch to the gut, the air rushing out of her lungs in a sharp gasp. He looked tired and worn, his hair disheveled and his eyes rimmed with red.

Even in the dim light of the hallway, she could see the pain etched into every line of his face, the betrayal and confusion swirling in his gaze.

"Jack," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

But even as the words left her lips, she knew they were a mistake. She could see the anger flashing in Jack's eyes, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

In that moment, she knew that whatever fragile peace they had managed to maintain over the past few days was about to come crashing down around them.

The hallway suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in on her like a vice. The scent of cigarette smoke and cleaning products was overwhelming, making her head spin and her stomach churn. And still, Jack stood there, his gaze boring into hers like a laser, his presence a physical force that she could feel in every cell of her body.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, to try to explain or apologize or beg for forgiveness. But before she could get a word out she thought back to their fight. The things jack had said to her in this same cover of darkness.

Jack brushed past, his steps leading him into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud. Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut, the air rushing out of her lungs in a sharp gasp.

…

Tag List <3

@favsrachz @jacktoria4ever @bunbunbl0gs @ivy-34 @rebelatbay

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boysbellyrubs · 3 days

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'Fine This Morning'

Another detective fic is here!! This time I was lightly inspired by a prompt of a character feeling fine in the morning and suddenly coming down with something. it's semi-long, so I hope you enjoy :))

Jack laid his jacket over his chair, placed his coffee on the desk and sat across from Harry.

“Morning.” It was barely morning anymore, but, force of habit.

Harry looked up from his desk, “Good morning. Where have you been?” He sat back from his work, folding his arms to give Jack a funny look.

“The morgue,” He pulled out a pen, clicking the end a few times before writing a quick reminder to write up the findings from said morgue trip. Jack took a sip of coffee, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, nothing. Thought you’d be somewhere more interesting.” Harry slumped back into his seat. Jack could see he was just pretending to write, his pen hovering just above the paper. Jack chuckled,

“Looking for gossip?” He asked. Harry’s cheeks reddened at being caught. He immediately got back into his work, hunching over to block his face. Jack really laughed now, “Don’t go all shy on me.” He joked, now leaning forward to get his own work done.

While they worked, all types of people filed into the department. Jack couldn’t help but overhear a family that had lost their young boy over the weekend, desperately asking for some help. He looked up, noticing the mother crying and the father absolutely ripping into one of the younger detectives. It was causing a bit of a ruckus. He looked over to Harry, giving him a nod.

Walking over to the couple, the mother noticed their approach. She latched onto Jack, “Please, sir, can you help us?” She shook him about, surprisingly strong. It left him feeling a little unbalanced. She cried out again. Jack put his hands on her shoulders, gently pulling her off him.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but you need to calm down. You too, sir.” The father turned to face him, anger painted across his features. He looked down at Harry then to Jack,

“You’re detectives aren’t you? Can’t you help us?” He jabbed a finger at Harry’s chest. Jack stepped in front to avoid further confrontation. The couple noticed his stern expression and seemed to back off, remembering just who they were talking to.

Jack took a step back, “Now, if we can all calm down-”

“Calm down?!” The father was riled again, “Just who do you think you are? We lost our son and no one is helping us.” He took a step at Jack. Suddenly, Jack felt a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea what this man could do, and with his grief and anger, he figured it wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Why do you need detectives?” Harry asked.

A moment of indecision came across the man’s face. His eyes bore into Jack’s and moved to Harry, seemingly debating whether or not to back down. Jack tried to keep his back straight and his feet planted. The man stepped back and Jack felt a weight come off his chest. A shallow breath fell from his mouth. The father held onto his wife, giving their attention to Harry.

“We think it was murder. He always hung around a bad crowd, we think one of them killed him.” Names were exchanged, and Harry took them over to his desk. Jack watched as they left, trying to calm his racing heart. He couldn’t understand why that moment had caused such panic in him. His hands were clammy and his head was unsteady.

Jack trudged back to his desk. Falling into his chair, he pushed his hair back and shut his eyes. He could vaguely make out the conversation across from him, but he didn’t really care. The couple were probably just paranoid. It wasn’t a very nice thing to think, but with how he was feeling, he didn’t want to do nice. He planted his elbow on the desk, looking down at the report he was nearly finished with before the interruption. With a final few sentences, he signed off on it and filed it away with the rest of the case reports.

Without a word, he waved the file to Lawrence and left to put it in storage. The case was completely solved, with a simple explanation of drug overdose on the victim. He was walking back to his desk when a wave of vertigo hit him. Without intending to, he caught himself heavily with the wall. His eyes were clamped shut. Jack tried to breathe.

“Hey, Woods. Too hard on the booze last night?” Detective Watson strolled past, her own case file in hand. She nudged him in the arm.

Jack looked at her. She didn’t even seem to notice his distress, “Yeah, you could say that.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply and kept walking. Every step he took shook up his brain. Jack felt increasingly sick the closer he got to his desk. The couple were still there, but looked to be successfully calmed. Harry gave him a quick glance before he finished up his conversation with the couple. They thanked him profusely, but as they were leaving, gave Jack a glare. He didn’t care. He wasn’t here to please everyone.

“I told them I’d look at the file but I don’t think I’m going to find anything. Sounds like the kid was just unlucky,” Harry stuck a note on his computer screen, probably their phone number, and looked back at Jack.

Harry had just opened his mouth to say something more when the Chief came over to their desk. He had a thundercloud above his head.

“You two, we got an urgent case downtown. Just got the call, it’s fresh. You got it?” With the Chief glaring at them, Jack and Harry collected their things and set off. They took Jack’s car and got to the scene around ten minutes later. They were met with the usual hubbub as they stepped out of the car. Jack swore he felt his feet skid on the concrete, but they were perfectly stationary. He ignored it, flashing his badge to the police officers in front of the yellow tape. The body was lying face up in the middle of the footpath, eyes wide. There was an obvious stab wound in his stomach.

Harry crouched down, “Well, at least we know how they died.” He did a quick survey of the area around the body, but found no weapon.

Jack stood back, the sight getting to him. He stepped around the body and looked into the bushes and rubbish bins. No weapon there either. He tried to keep his head and body moving together to avoid any more vertigo, which probably made him look like a robot. With Harry covering the immediate area, Jack set off to go take a look around some of the alleys.

Out of sight from everyone, he allowed himself a few moments to breathe. Everything was just getting worse as time passed. His hands were perpetually sweating, his head was pounding and every little movement made the world violently tilt, and to make everything just a little worse, he was beginning to feel nauseated. He was feeling fine that morning. No headache, no dizziness, no nothing. After the incident with that couple, everything just went downhill.

He doubted that they had passed something onto him. No sickness would ever work that quickly. Jack found himself lost in thought when a scrape of a boot caught his attention. Suddenly, his brain was on overdrive and he carefully slid his gun out of its holster, bringing it up in front of him. He took quiet steps, calculating where the noise had come from. The obvious guess was from behind the big dumpster so he rounded his gun past there first. No one.

He kept moving further down the alley when the noise happened again. But from right behind him. Jack spun, assaulted by vertigo, but he kept his cool. In front of him was a young man, around mid-20s with a knife gripped tightly in his left hand.

“Drop the knife.” Jack said plainly. No use in yelling just yet.

The man’s body stuttered a bit. Like he was fighting with some invisible force that told him to put the knife down. He readjusted his grip on the weapon, “And what if I don’t?” He taunted, taking a step towards Jack.

“I’ll shoot you down. Then you’d go straight into a jail cell. You wouldn’t want that,” Jack tried to keep his words strong. He still hadn’t recovered from the spin earlier. He desperately tried to keep his arms out and stable, “Put it down.” He emphasised.

There was about five seconds of nothing, and then the man lunged forward with the knife. He was sloppy and Jack managed to dodge him. He went flying past him, so Jack turned around and shot him twice in the leg, enough to make him drop and cry out. He ran over to him, holding the gun now at his head, “What did I say? Now sit still while the others come.”

Jack stood back, knowing the perp wouldn’t get anywhere. He stumbled back into the dumpster, his back roughly smacking into the cold metal. He shivered. Now with the adrenaline slowly leaving his body, he felt every ounce of illness and symptom like never before. He put his hand to his head, stifling back a groan as that little movement caused a fresh wave of nausea to splash against his insides.

He heard rather than saw other police officers entering the alley, all with their own guns raised.

“Over here,” Jack mumbled, vaguely pointing to the man. He heard the thump of boots run past him and then the jingle of handcuffs.

Jack had to move. The smell of rubbish wafting up from the bin was making everything worse. With all the strength he had left, he exited the alley, squinting at the burn of the setting sun. Thank god his day was nearly over, he desperately needed to puke and preferably in his own home. The suspect was kicking and screaming as he got walked out to the ambulance, blood steadily dripping down from his right leg. He gave Jack a beady eyed glare, spitting at his feet. Jack was used to it.

Detective Lawrence came up behind him, patting him on the shoulder. It caused Jack’s centre of gravity to shift, “Good one, Woods. How’d ya know he was back there?”

“Lucky guess.” He muttered. Jack politely shook off Harry’s hand, stumbling his way over to the car. He would deal with the rest of this bullshit tomorrow. He was about five seconds away from either passing out or vomiting.

Thankfully, he was somehow able to hold it all down for him to get back to the station, gather his things, say goodbye to Harry and drive home. Now that he was home though, the feeling that he felt after shooting the man in the alley was back but increased by tenfold. Every little movement caused a sickly burp to shoot up his throat, and his head to quite literally spin. He hobbled over to his bathroom, hand running along the wall, and practically fell in front of his toilet.

He spat thick saliva, “Ohh, god.” He moaned out. This was the worst thing he had ever felt in a while. His belly angrily whined at him, forcing a strained hiccup and a burp to come tumbling out of his mouth. He just needed to puke, then he would be fine. Everything was curdled in his stomach. Jack spit again, the saliva dangling off his lips.

He breathed deep through his nose, burps filtering up through his throat. Before he could even get a chance to realise what was happening, a gag tore its way up his throat and out came a thick wave of vomit. He retched again, head spinning. He very quickly realised he was going to fall over and plonked his hands heavily onto the tile. With his body stable, his belly had free rein to do whatever it needed and his cheeks puffed up to spew out another mouthful of vomit.

Jack coughed on that one, groaning as he was given absolutely no time to breathe as another gag brought another wave. His stomach contracted and heaved.

“Fuck m’ life,” He groaned, “Jesus.” His words slurred together much like the mess in his belly. Jack felt like actual garbage. He burped again and it stung his throat. However, he felt like he wasn’t about to puke again, so he gathered all of his strength and sat back from the toilet. All he wanted was his bed and sleep, just to forget about the agony of the day. His stomach was aching, and his head was reeling, nothing seemed to want to stay still when he looked at it. He moaned again, wondering how the hell he was going to actually get into bed.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the floor and clung tightly onto the bathroom sink. He stared at his reflection, disgusted by the pale cheeks and dark circles. Jack splashed some water onto his face, swishing some around his mouth for good measure, and made the journey to his room. Finally getting into bed felt heavenly. He simply laid on his side, breathing softly and curling around a pillow.

The day played through his mind like a DVD. The couple, the storage room, the crime scene, the man with the knife. And the fact that he had somehow gotten sick between it all. His morning was normal, his routine had no deviations. What kind of bug from Hell had he caught? It made his head spin thinking about it. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, whining a bit. He felt his body relax deeper and sleep slowly sunk her claws into him. His phone was on his bedside table, ready to call in sick tomorrow.

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#quite proud of this one ngl #jack #harry #oc's #emeto #stomach ache #belly kink #stomach flu #emetophilia #vomiting #dizziness #burping #sickfic

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